Uncovering the Grief I Called “Feeling Sorry for Myself”

That Morning When the Heavy Energy Hit

It was just a regular morning—nothing bad had happened. I grabbed my coffee, sat down to do some research, and then… bam. This familiar “energy” settled on my shoulders like a wet blanket. All the joy got sucked right out of the day. Suddenly I felt helpless, overwhelmed, buried.

I noticed it this time. Instead of pushing through, I asked, What just triggered this? And there they were—those old tapes playing in my head: “What do you have to be so sorry for? Why are you feeling sorry for yourself?”

For the first time ever, I stopped and really listened to those words. I asked myself, What does “feeling sorry for myself” even mean? And the answer hit me like a ton of bricks: It was grief. Just straight-up grief. Another layer of hidden trauma so baked into my life it felt normal. I’d been trained to feel guilty for it, stuff it down, and wait for it to pass… eventually.

As I kept noticing, more thoughts and memories bubbled up. I’m sharing them here in case you’ve heard the same messages growing up. If any of this rings true, drop a comment below—let’s remind each other we’re not alone.

The Programming We All Know Too Well

Ever been told, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!” Or how about, “What do you have to complain about? Others are suffering way more than you.”

Telling yourself to stop feeling sorry for yourself is just denying the grief trying to come up for air. You get stuck in this endless loop—grief that never gets seen, never gets resolved… because you’re not allowed to acknowledge it.

And that line about others suffering more? That’s you gaslighting yourself into thinking your pain doesn’t count. That you’re selfish for even feeling it. That you don’t deserve to have emotions.

Then there’s the flip side: “What are you so happy about?” Seriously? What emotions are even left? Oh yeah—anger. And guess what? That’s punished too. Remember being told as a kid, “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you something to cry about”? Translation: Your feelings are inconvenient. Shut them down or else.

Even your joy can be “too much.” The person shutting you down isn’t feeling it, and you’re irritating them. (How dare you!)

Hidden Trauma in Plain Sight

This is what hidden trauma looks like—constant messages that your worth, your emotions, your thoughts don’t matter as much as everyone else’s. You’re too loud, too quiet, too something. The takeaway? Others are more important than you. You’re not worth the bother, the empathy, or the guidance to figure out what the heck these big feelings even are.

That’s a parent’s job, right? To guide a kid through life, including emotions they’ve never navigated before. But how can they teach what they were never taught? Your feelings just poke their own unhealed wounds, and the cycle keeps rolling. In some families, it turns into yelling, physical punishment, explosive anger—anything to make sure you never acknowledge pain, never inconvenience anyone, never shine too bright. Joy? That’s like rubbing salt in someone else’s wound. (How dare you!)

We grow up and try to make sense of it. Some of us fight back—demanding control, respect, obedience. Others become people-pleasers, saying yes at all costs (and the cost is always us). Both are two sides of the same narcissistic coin. You can’t have one without the other. And we’re doomed to repeat this survival system until we see it for what it is.

Worse? This same dynamic runs governments, schools, communities… and yes, even churches. Self-sacrifice gets a gold star, but it’s really a desperate plea: See me. Value me. Love me. People-pleasers attract the opposite—abusers who see others as tools to fix, shape, or discard so their life is easier.

Now What Do We Do With This?

If I hadn’t stumbled across life-changing books, videos, and podcasts, I’d still be blind to these childhood beliefs robbing me of joy today. I was sixty years old before I started peeling back these layers—and now I share them in our Circles Journey Groups.

On paper, I had it all together: featured in TIME magazine for Sarah’s Tent, the online community I built for pastors’ wives and women in ministry. Served in ministry my whole life, ending as a senior pastor’s wife. But behind the titles? So many stories. So much pain. So many lessons.

When we closed Living Stones Church and Academy (the nonprofit behind our church and school), I knew I couldn’t keep these truths to myself. This is the human condition—playing out behind every institutional wall where answers should be, but often aren’t.

If a leader—whether in a family, organization, or congregation—doesn’t know their own trauma, they can’t help anyone else with theirs. Worse, they’ll “minister” from their pain, building empires instead of feeding sheep.

I can’t fit fifteen years of hard-won wisdom into one post. But I keep writing, sharing resources, and creating safe spaces to uncover what’s holding you back—so you can help yourself and others with love and health.