Moving Forward Without Pretending

If you read my post yesterday, then you would know that we lost one of our two beagles. If not then here a quick summary as I process this:

She was 13 going on 14. She’d been ill, losing sight, and multiple vet visits didn’t change the direction. This week she barely ate – then, oddly, on Thursday she ate two full bowls. Morning and late afternoon. A small spark. Then her eye swelled massively, and she just laid there. Not resting. Not herself. Just, done. At the vet, waiting, she slept deeply. Inside the office it was the same – like she was quietly signaling: I know this is it. Thank you for adopting me and taking care of me. I’ll see you on the other side.

That was Thursday.

This is the part after: the quiet house, the mental replays, and that uncomfortable gap where life continues, even when you’re not ready.

I know this was “just a pet” or “just an animal”, but to us it was family. Trust me, if you have had a dog, you’ll know what I am talking about.

The “Moving Forward” Trap

Most people hear “move forward” and translate it as:

• stop feeling
• get productive again
• distract yourself until it fades

I get the impulse. Staying busy is socially approved numbness.

But here’s the catch: if you move forward by skipping over it, you don’t actually move forward. You just carry it – unprocessed – into everything else. Then it leaks out as impatience, irritability, insomnia, or that low-grade “what’s the point?” feeling you can’t quite name.

Again, I’m no therapist. But I’ve watched enough humans (including myself) to know this:

what you don’t feel on purpose, you feel later by surprise.

The Only Two Jobs Right Now

After a loss, especially one you saw coming but still weren’t ready for, you basically have two jobs:

1. Tell the truth about what happened

Not the dramatic version. The true version. Thursday wasn’t “just a pet.” It was years of presence, routine, loyalty, and care. It was responsibility. It was love in a small body that somehow took up a huge amount of emotional space. If you downplay it to “be strong,” you don’t get extra points. You just get lonelier. Ask my wife on my character.

2. Choose the next right step

Not a five-year plan. Not a reinvention. Just the next step that’s honest and stable. And yes, sometimes the next right step is, making coffee, taking a shower, replying to one email, or sitting quietly for ten minutes without trying to optimize the grief away.

That counts.

A Practical Way to Move Forward (Without Lying to Yourself)

Here’s a simple sequence I use when life hits hard and I still have to be functional.

The 4-step “Forward, Not Fake” reset

1. Name the feeling in plain language. “I’m sad.” “I’m empty.” “I’m relieved it’s over and guilty about the relief.” (That one happens more than people admit.)
2. Name what matters now (one sentence). “I want to honor what we had by living awake.” “I want to show up for the people and responsibilities still here.”
3. Pick one stabilizing action. Something boring on purpose: tidy one room, take a walk, cook something simple, handle one small task you’ve been avoiding.
4. Allow one moment of stillness. Ten minutes. No phone. No productivity podcast. Just space.

The point isn’t to “solve” grief. The point is to stay honest while life keeps moving.

What Yesterday Taught Me About Mindset (Again)

Thursday wasn’t just painful – it was clarifying. It reminded me that mindset isn’t positive thoughts. It’s the lens you choose when you can’t change the facts. And the lens I’m choosing is this:

Deliberate doesn’t mean dramatic

A deliberate life is mostly small choices repeated:

• saying what you mean
• spending time where you actually want your life to be
• not postponing the important stuff for a mythical “when things calm down”

Because Thursday made one thing painfully obvious, you don’t always get a warning that feels like a warning. Sometimes you get two bowls of food and a brief hope, and then you get the end.

Grief and Momentum Can Coexist

This is the part some people resist: you can mourn and still move. Not because you’re cold. Because you’re alive.

Moving forward doesn’t dishonor what you lost. If anything, moving forward well is the tribute. The care you gave then becomes the standard you live by now.

So yes—there’s sadness.

And also responsibility.

And still, life.

You can hold all of that at once.

Key Takeaways

• “Moving forward” doesn’t mean “moving on.” It means moving honestly.
• If you skip the feelings, they don’t disappear. They reschedule themselves.
• Your job isn’t to be inspirational. It’s to be real and steady.
• A deliberate life is built from small, repeatable choices, not dramatic overhauls.
• Grief and momentum aren’t enemies. They can coexist without canceling each other out.

One Challenge (next 24 hours)

Do this in the next day – no performance, no posting, no overthinking:

1. Write three sentences (private) answering:

• • What did “this event” remind me matters most?
  • What have I been postponing that I don’t want to postpone anymore?
  • What is one small action I can take this week to live more deliberately?

2. Then take one action within 15 minutes of writing it.

• • Something small but real: a call, a message, scheduling something important, or making time for someone you keep “meaning to” see.

That’s forward motion. Quiet. Real. Enough.

So my last question to you is what are you going to do differently on the ordinary days so you don’t need a crisis to wake you up?

Mindset First. Keep thriving!