by Beth Inglish
Lately, I’ve been thinking about loss. Not the loud, catastrophic kind that stops life in its tracks, but the quieter kind. The kind that shows up when you realize you’re changing.
I used to say, “I have nothing to lose.” It sounded brave. Detached. Fearless. But the truth is, we have everything to lose. When you love deeply, when you build something meaningful, when you look around your life and feel genuine gratitude for what you have, there is always something at stake. Growth doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It asks something of you.
Right now, I feel like I’m shedding an older version of myself. I’m stepping into something healthier, clearer, more expansive. It feels bolder. Bigger. But it also feels unfamiliar. And unfamiliar can be unsettling, even when it’s good for you.
There’s a strange grief that comes with becoming. And I don’t think we talk about that part enough.
When you grow, you don’t just gain strength or clarity. You lose identities that once protected you. You lose coping mechanisms that once felt necessary. You lose the version of yourself that knew how to survive in a certain environment. And even if that version was built from fear or limitation, it was still you.
Letting go of that can feel like a small death.
I notice a fear rising in me sometimes. A fear of losing myself as I continue to change. A fear of losing people I love. A fear of losing the stability of what’s familiar. And that fear doesn’t come from nowhere. It reaches back into other moments of loss.
It brings me back to losing my father. To losing a relationship. To losing myself inside that relationship. To the times when letting go wasn’t optional, when life forced the transition before I was ready.
Every one of those moments hurt. Deeply.
And yet, when I look back, I can’t ignore what followed. On the other side of every loss was growth. Not the kind I would have chosen. Not the kind that felt triumphant at first. But growth nonetheless. A new perspective. A deeper capacity for pain and for love. A wider emotional range. A clearer sense of who I am.
We cannot have one without the other.
We don’t get expansion without release. We don’t get freedom without letting something fall away. We don’t get maturity without walking through discomfort. There is a naivety in believing we can keep everything and still evolve.
Some days, I would love to live in that fantasy. I would love for growth to feel clean and uncomplicated. But reality asks something braver of us. It asks us to accept that as we expand, we will outgrow versions of ourselves that once felt necessary.
The part of me that feels like it’s dying right now isn’t my essence. It’s a limitation. It’s a protective layer that helped me survive another season. And even though releasing it feels vulnerable, it also feels honest.
We may have everything to lose, but we also have everything to gain.
Every time I’ve let go of something that no longer fit, I’ve stepped into a fuller version of myself. Every time I’ve walked through grief, I’ve emerged with greater capacity. Not just to endure, but to love. To feel. To show up more completely.
Growth is not comfortable. It is not tidy. It is not without grief. But it is expansive.
And maybe real maturity is understanding that the ache of losing and the thrill of becoming are not opposites. They are partners. One makes space for the other.
30-Second Exercise with Beth
Take a slow breath and notice what feels like it’s changing in your life right now.
Ask yourself: What part of me am I being invited to release?
Then gently ask: What might be waiting for me on the other side of that release?
You don’t have to rush the answer. Growth often feels like loss before it feels like freedom. Let yourself honor both.
About The Author
Beth Inglish is an artist, leader, and transformational speaker who creates spaces where people feel seen, supported, and invited to grow. Through her abstract paintings and keynote experiences, she helps people reconnect to themselves, regulate their nervous systems, and move forward with clarity and confidence. Her work blends creativity, emotional intelligence, and storytelling to create meaningful moments of reflection and change. Whether on stage or in the studio, Beth focuses on helping people feel grounded, aware, and empowered in their lives. Visit her online gallery to explore her work and learn more about the stories behind each piece.
