Rebuilding Identity After Grief, Loss, or Trauma

I’m not sure if this is true for you, but where I’m writing from, I’m wrapping up a season—or maybe a few. I’m approaching another birthday. And I’m neck-deep in reinventing myself.

What prompts reinvention at 40?

Read on. And a gentle warning—this gets honest. My hope is that it invites you to redefine yourself at any stage, if who you are—and how you are being—no longer serves your highest good.

Have you ever realized you are “face down in the moment”?

Burned out. Ashamed. Overwhelmed by ideas you wish you could bring to life—but something inside you needs acknowledgment before you move forward.

As a woman in lifelong recovery from sexual abuse and intimate partner violence, living with a mental health condition, I’ve been there more times than I can count. And what those moments have taught me is this:

Sometimes, it’s necessary to lose the plot.

To fall down. To fall apart. To pause long enough to take stock of where you are, how it feels to be there—and whether you want to keep living the way you’ve been living.

I’m not only a survivor—I’m a lifestyle educator and a champion for whole-person care. I believe the mind, body, and spirit all require support for us to express our healthiest selves. My training as a Health Coach gave me structure—tools like the “wellness wheel,” which views spiritual, financial, physical, and emotional health as interconnected.

That framework has held me, even when my life hasn’t.

Because here’s the truth: you can have the tools and still find yourself out of alignment.

Five years ago, I began laying tracks for a new life for my daughter and I. I knew we needed to leave our home environment. I didn’t know how we would make it work—I just knew staying wasn’t an option.

I wanted her to see a mother who respected herself enough to move away from harm and toward something better.

So we packed. We stepped forward. And we trusted the Universe to meet us halfway.

It has.

Reinvention doesn’t happen once. It happens in layers.

Just when I thought I had arrived, a new need would surface—requiring another pivot, more resource navigation, and the use of skillful means I didn’t yet know I had.

Now, five years into rebuilding, I found myself in a different kind of crisis.

My body began to push back.

I was fatigued. Foggy. Irritable. In pain.

This was frustrating because on paper I was doing everything right.

I was in therapy. Supporting my daughter in hers. Eating well most of the time. Supplementing with high-quality nutrients, moving my body, and earning good money.

But I felt like I was drowning.

My daughter was getting the short end of me. And deep down, I knew something was off.

It felt like I had a flat tire on my own wellness wheel.

So I asked myself: What’s actually out of alignment?

The answer was uncomfortable.

I had overinvested in one area—financial survival.

Understandably so. I was navigating a demanding legal process, trying to stabilize our lives, and build something sustainable. I worked constantly. Traveled. Networked. Stayed plugged in. My home became my office, and I never really clocked out.

I told myself it was necessary.

And in many ways, it was.

But it came at a cost.

I stopped having fun. I fell behind on simple things. I hit a wall—and instead of pushing through, I slid down it.

At the same time, my daughter’s needs became louder. Clearer. Non-negotiable.

And something in me knew:

It’s time to take the house down to the studs again.

In my work, I ask clients: What pillars do you want to build your life around?

I know mine. And I wasn’t living in alignment with them.

Letting go of the one area where I felt competent—my career—was terrifying. But it made space for something deeper.

A core truth for me: I am here to parent. To love. To experience joy. To show the way.

That’s the life I want to build.

So now, I’m in a season of letting go.

Letting the waters shift. Choosing differently. Allowing myself to step into uncertainty with the belief that something better can be built.

For me, being “face down in the moment” means humbly facing reality—and allowing myself to feel the full weight of it.

It also means acknowledging how far I’ve come.

I’ve carried us into a brighter future than I once thought possible. I’ve built a global community of people who care about women and girls thriving. And now, I’m being called to root more deeply. To snuff out the fires of intergenerational trauma. To be present and regulated in my body so I can co-regulate hers.

So this is my invitation to you:

Is what you’re carrying sustainable?

Do you fantasize about letting it all go?

Do you believe there would be nothing left to rebuild from?

I won’t pretend there isn’t resistance. There is. An entire inner committee, at times.

But what if—just maybe—there’s another part of you waiting to emerge?

You have permission to be a different woman today than you were yesterday.

Reinvention doesn’t require perfection. It requires willingness.

In this season, I’m doing it imperfectly.

I’ve hired my own coach. I nourish my body more intentionally. I create space for my daughter and me to enjoy our lives—not just manage them. I am pursuing business opportunities in my community while I continue to refine my approach.

I’m not waiting to arrive.

I’m learning to trust the process of being in process.

I now lean into the void.

Because that’s where possibility lives, too.

Maybe there is no final destination—only the ongoing question:

Do I like who I am being?

Do I like how my life feels?

And am I willing to choose again, if the answer is no?

Ms. Brinkerhoff is a peer supporter and holistic health coach trained at the Institute for Integrative Nutrition™. Celeste is a passionate advocate for mental well-being and family-centered integrative care. She is committed to reducing stigma and raising awareness about mental health challenges, particularly for parents navigating postpartum issues and generational trauma. You can find her at https://www.iammentallyreal.com/.