Living in the Gap

Grief has a way of rupturing the story of our lives. 

There’s the story of your life before the loss: the plans you’d made, the sense of self you’d built, the love you could reach for and touch. 

Somewhere off in the future, you’re told there’s the story of healing from the loss: the meaning you’ll make, the new relationships you’ll build, the joy and purpose you’ll find over time.

Then there’s the gap between stories: where the old one refuses to let go, and the new one refuses to reveal itself. Fresh grief can throw you into that gap and leave you there.

Living in the gap between stories can be profoundly disorienting. 

Humans rely on the stories we tell to make sense of our lives, our relationships, and the world around us. When a loved one dies, or a relationship breaks down, or a child moves away, or a job collapses, or any other big hard thing happens, it can feel like the whole world just stops making sense.  

That’s especially true when we witness a steady stream of impossibly big, impossibly hard things unfolding on a global scale. Personal grief and collective grief can combine into an overwhelming swirl.

Crisis after crisis. Heartbreak after heartbreak. Whole ecosystems and whole communities facing the worst of what the dying stories of capitalism, colonialism, and cultures of supremacy can serve up.  

So many of us are trying to live our way into a new story together. Threads of that story have been woven already—but there’s so much we don’t know yet about what a free future looks like. There’s a chasm of grief between here and there. And still there are the bills to pay, and the kids to feed, and the latest loss to mourn.

How can we make a life in the gap?

Grief is a secret-keeper. It’s a holder of certain painful blessings that we might not choose for ourselves, but that can widen our souls and deepen our sense of aliveness if we let them—and if we have the support we need to make it through.

Here’s one secret grief tells: the gaps are where new worlds are born. 

The stories we tell about our lives can feel like solid ground—but the rupture of grief says otherwise. We don’t live inside our stories. Not really. We live inside the body of a living, breathing, animate world. 

That living world is a place of constant change. In the gap between stories, who we become is shaped not by a pre-written script, but by wild encounters and unscripted unfurlings and endless shapes and textures of surprise.

A straight-line, hyper-productive, grief-phobic culture demands clear definitions—the same tired stories and worn-out scripts, all built on avoidance of pain and loss and endings. By breaking us out of those stories, grief can restore us to the unruly and ungovernable truth of life. 

The gaps are where new worlds are born. They’re where more interesting, more compassionate, and more honest stories can start to unfold. They’re the best place to do the messy, communal work of living and dreaming together. 

The trick is not to go it alone. 

Grief flows best in a context of community care, and the gap becomes livable when we live there together. As one isolated human body, it’s all too much to hold. As one precious being held within a living, loving web, it’s still hard—but what needs to flow can flow. Moments of beauty and joy and wonder have channels to reach us and nourish us.  

So if you find yourself lost in the gap between stories, you don’t need to scramble to get out to find more familiar ground—though it’s normal to have lots of moments where you try to do just that. When you catch yourself reaching for a coherent story, it can help to pause, and breathe, and reach for good care and good guidance instead. 

So many of us are living in the gaps. I’ve been so grateful to land at the Grief House, because I see it as a place where more of us can start to find each other. Another secret: we get to live inside the worlds that grow from there. 

Jojo Donovan is a grief witch and pleasure priestess who can always be found with a tarot deck in their bag, a journal in hand, and rocks in their pockets. They are especially excited to help queer and trans people who are struggling to navigate painful life changes and want to find grounded sources of courage, clarity, and relief. You can follow Jojo on instagram @sevenstonestarot, and join their Substack newsletter for resources on living with spirit in apocalyptic times.