When Hope Hurts: Navigating Life Transitions and Hidden Grief

“Hope can be just as devastating as despair”

It’s a line from a book I’m currently reading - Beautiful Ugly by Alice Feeney, which I’d happily recommend if you’re looking for a gripping read. But this particular sentence stopped me in my tracks.

It’s not something we often hear, is it? That hope can hurt. That something usually seen as positive, even necessary, can carry its own kind of pain.

But as I sat with those words, I felt a deep sense of knowing in my body, as if they echoed in my bones. They brought me back to a time in my own life when I was caught in a place of grief and uncertainty. When I was clinging to hope so tightly it began to cut.

And I thought of my clients too. Because for so many people I work with, especially those navigating life transitions and losses that don’t always have a name, hope isn’t always the comforting presence we want it to be.

The hidden grief of waiting and not knowing

In counselling, I often sit with people who are holding space for something they desperately want - a reconciliation, a pregnancy, a new beginning, an apology. The things that haven’t arrived but haven’t been ruled out either. They live in that grey area of maybe. One day. What if.

It’s a space full of longing. And yes, sometimes full of hope.

But it’s also exhausting. Because when you’re hoping, you’re investing. You’re bracing. You’re holding a door open in case something or someone walks through. And that kind of waiting can take an emotional toll.

For those experiencing disenfranchised grief, the kind of grief that isn’t always recognised or talked about, this can feel even harder. There’s no script for how to grieve something that hasn’t quite ended, or something that never arrived. And when hope is part of the picture, it can complicate things even further.

When hope becomes pressure

Hope is often framed as something we should feel. We’re told to stay positive. To keep believing. That if we hope hard enough, things will work out.

But that can start to feel like a burden, especially when things aren’t going to plan. Hope that once felt like light can begin to close in, becoming a quiet prison of unanswered questions and aching uncertainty

For clients who are dealing with infertility, relationship breakdowns, or family estrangement, this kind of enforced optimism can create pressure. It can make people feel like they’re failing if they feel angry, tired, or disillusioned. It can silence the parts of us that are grieving.

And sometimes, the most supportive thing counselling can offer is a space to lay that hope down for a while. To stop holding the door open. To rest.

Hope, despair and all the feelings in between

Of course, I’m not suggesting that hope is always harmful. Far from it. Sometimes, it’s what gets us through. It can be a lifeline. But like all feelings, it’s complex.

There’s space for more than one truth. You can be hopeful and heartbroken. You can feel determined one day and despairing the next. You can grieve and still hold a vision for a different future.

Counselling can help you make sense of that messiness. It’s not about choosing hope or despair, positivity or realism. It’s about noticing where you are, what you’re carrying, and what you need to keep going.

Finding steady ground in uncertain times

Transitions, by their nature, are uncertain. Whether you’re navigating retirement, recovering from a breakup, living with illness, or coming to terms with a childless life, there can be so many unknowns.

It’s natural to want to hold on to something that looks like certainty. But sometimes, hope doesn’t offer the solid ground we want it to. Sometimes it keeps us swinging between possible joy and possible loss, and that can feel deeply destabilising.

What counselling offers is not always answers, but steadiness. It gives you a place to unpack all that you’re feeling - the hope, the hurt, the in-between. It gives you permission to stop performing positivity and to be honest about the reality of what it means to live through a time of change.

In closing

That sentence - hope can be just as devastating as despair - might sound bleak at first. But for me, and for many of my clients, there’s something validating in it. It gives language to a feeling that’s hard to name. It reminds us that even emotions we’re told are “good” can be complex. And that’s OK.

If you're in a place where hope feels heavy or your life has been shaped by invisible grief, you're not alone. Counselling can help you make sense of those experiences and find ways to carry them with more gentleness and care.

If this resonates, and you're looking for a space to explore those complicated feelings, you're very welcome to get in touch.