I No Longer Believe In Happy Endings
I no longer believe in happy endings, because my brother is dead.
There, I got it out of the way. This summer, my life shattered in a way I never imagined. I found my best friend, my older brother, my favorite person, dead in our home. And nothing —absolutely nothing— will ever be the same.
I will never be the same. Neither will my family, my world, nor my sense of self.
For as long as I can remember, I was the optimist of the family. The dreamer, the one who believed in the magic of the universe, who wished on every star, who proudly proclaimed angel numbers whenever I saw them on the clock.
When I discovered "On the Bright Side" by Never Shout Never I made it my personal anthem. A sweet, folky tune about finding strength no matter what life throws at you. I loved that song. I loved what it represented: the belief that no matter how hard things got, you could always find a way to look on the bright side.
And so, at a young age, I adopted this idea as my manifesto.
I proudly wore my "hippy dreamer" label like a badge of honor, always trying to remind everyone around me of the positives in their lives. I was that friend who'd say things like:
"Look on the bright side, it could always be worse"
"Think about how much more you have than others!"
"If it's meant for you, the universe will give it to you!"
I thought I was wise. I thought I had it all figured out. In fact, I convinced myself that I’d make an excellent therapist. I wore my traumas like badges on my chest, believing that if you’d gone through enough pain, you’d earn the wisdom to be a better person. After all, it was all part of the lesson—right?
I became a yoga instructor when I was 20, and preached the healing powers of breathwork, meditation, and positive thinking. The wellness community's culture of "toxic positivity" seeped into my own life, and for a long time, I believed that everyone could find peace and joy if they just changed their mindset.
But as I've grown in my practice, in my life, and in my understanding of grief, I've realized: sometimes the bright side isn’t possible to find. Sometimes there is no happy ending. Sometimes there is just darkness.
Life is a duality: light and dark. Joy and pain. You can’t have one without the other. Sometimes, things happen that simply don’t have a lesson. No upside. No reason. No moral of the story.
And that’s where I am now—staring down the truth that sometimes, life is just unfair, and there’s no way to spin it.
The Lesson From My Brother
My brother was a realist. He didn’t sugarcoat life. He didn’t cling to toxic positivity. He knew how to experience joy in each moment, how to let go of the crap life threw his way, all while keeping his expectations grounded and real.
He didn’t believe in "happy endings", he preferred the movies with the messed up endings. And now that he’s gone, I know he was right. There is no happy ending to death. No neatly tied-up conclusion. No reason why a good, kind man was taken from the world too soon.
So what do I do now?
As a teacher, a coach, a friend, and a partner, I’ve come to realize the greatest gift we can offer one another isn’t advice, isn’t fixing someone’s pain, and it sure as hell isn’t forcing them to see positivity or feel grateful when they’re in the depths of grief.
The greatest gift we can offer is the space to simply be.
- The space to be heard.
- The space to be seen.
- The space to be loved
- The space to be sad
- The space to grieve
We don’t need to make everything better. We don’t need to force someone to feel better before they’re ready. We just need to hold space for them to feel their pain, without judgment, and allow them to find their own path to healing in their own time.
The Silver Lining Seekers: A Reframing of Hope
So, here’s what I’ve learned: maybe we don’t need to force ourselves or others to find the "bright side" when it’s just not possible. Maybe the point isn’t to force yourself into a place of gratitude or positivity when you're drowning in grief. Maybe it’s to simply seek.
Instead of saying, “Look on the bright side,” let’s ask (when we are ready):
Can we seek a silver lining?
It’s an evolution, a reframing of hope, a call to action. Instead of pushing ourselves to feel grateful when we don’t, maybe we just need to have the courage to look for something—anything—that might offer a glimmer of light. It’s not about forcing positivity. It’s about seeking the possibility of healing, of peace, of finding a way forward when it feels like there is no way out.
I No Longer Believe in Happy Endings, But I Do Believe in Healing
Right now, I’m grieving. I am really fucking sad. And that’s okay. I don’t need to rush through it, and I don’t need to pretend that there’s a lesson in this. Sometimes, life just hurts, and that's part of the human experience.
But I do believe that I am ready to stop talking about living my life, and ready to start living it. I do believe that one day I will fully find my way back to joy. And when that day comes, I will be ready to seek the silver linings.
.
Let’s Seek Together
The truth is, we can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel. But we can seek it, even if it’s hidden in the darkness for now.
So, if you’re struggling, if you’re in pain, if life has shattered your world in ways you never imagined—just know that you’re not alone. One day, you'll have the urge to ask for more, to crawl out of the depths of despair and yearn for more than what was given. You will be ready to take things into your own hands, and when that day comes, let’s seek together. And until then, let’s hold space for the darkness, knowing that, eventually, we may find the light.
If this resonates with you, please know that it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to sit with your grief, your pain, and your sadness. And when you’re ready, we can all begin the search for our silver linings.
In Loving Memory of Joel Thomas Thomsen October 08 1985 - August 4th 2024.