Embracing Disappointment – A Softer Way to Hold What Hurts
Hello Lovely Souls,
When was the last time you felt disappointed?
There are so many ways it can show up, and it can often arrive quietly. If you’re anything like me, you probably experienced it pretty recently. Maybe a friend didn’t show up the way you’d hoped. Maybe a work opportunity fell through. Or maybe you didn’t follow through in the way you promised yourself you would.
Disappointment often carries an extra sting because it’s rooted in something tender: hope.
Hope usually involves some kind of emotional investment—mixed with a whole lot of uncertainty. We imagine a possibility, something we care about, and wait for the outcome. When things don’t unfold the way we hoped, we’re often left holding not just the moment itself—but everything we layered onto it.
What can make it feel even heavier is the story underneath the surface.
It’s rarely just about what happened. It’s about what we made it mean.
A missed text becomes, “I’m not a priority.”
A declined opportunity echoes, “I’m not good enough.”
Even when we disappoint ourselves, it can reinforce old narratives like, “I’m a failure.”
These stories often come from earlier wounds, not present-day truth. And they can quietly amplify the pain of disappointment until it feels like more than we can hold.
Instead of pushing it away, rushing to reframe, or avoiding the risk of hope altogether, what if we moved through disappointment with care?
Here’s a soft, reflective process that might support you the next time you’re sitting with disappointment:
Acknowledge the feeling: Pause. Notice where disappointment lives in your body. Maybe it’s a heavy chest, a tight jaw, or a knot in your stomach. Let yourself be present with it—without needing to fix or change it right away.
Get curious about the story: What does this moment feel like it means? Does it remind you of something from the past—an old belief about your worth, lovability, or capability? Name the narrative without judgment.
Hold that part with compassion: That story likely came from a time when you needed protection. A younger version of you was trying to make sense of something hard. You don’t have to believe it now, but you can honour the tenderness behind it.
Let yourself grieve: Disappointment is often layered with grief—grieving a version of the future you imagined. That doesn’t mean it’s gone forever, but it may be unfolding in a different way than expected. Letting go of the specific shape of that vision creates space for something new.
Gently challenge the assumption: Once there’s some emotional space, ask: Is that story really true? What else might be possible here? You’re not trying to bypass the feeling—just loosen the grip of the story.
Offer yourself a soft reframe: Maybe: This hurts, and I’m still worthy. This isn’t what I wanted, but I trust something else is unfolding. Disappointment doesn’t mean I failed—it means I cared.
One of the best companions to hope is openness—not to anything, but to something new. It doesn’t require certainty—just the willingness to stay soft when the outcome is unclear.
Openness to a different path.
Openness to unknown timing.
Openness to the idea that what didn’t happen wasn’t rejection—just redirection.
It doesn’t always feel good. And it doesn’t always make sense in the moment.
But if we can stay open to what we can’t yet see clearly, we may be surprised by what meets us on the other side.
As Brené Brown writes in Daring Greatly:
“Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose.”
Hope is vulnerable.
But so is joy. And love. And growth.
When we soften into disappointment with tenderness and curiosity, we make space for all of it.
Disappointment isn’t something to fix or avoid—it’s something to tend to.
When we meet it with presence, compassion, and curiosity, we begin to shift—we remember that caring deeply is not a weakness—it’s a doorway.
And through that doorway, something new can find us.
With heartfelt gratitude,
Christina
