Hi, Reader.

May I tell you something that took me years to figure out? Years.

I had been on my healing journey for a while. Done the support groups. Done the reading. Done the therapy. Done the hard conversations with myself about my childhood and my mom and all of it.

And I still felt this heaviness I couldn't explain.

I thought it was anger.

I thought it was frustration.

I thought it was just me being someone who was hanging onto the past.

It wasn't any of those things.

It was grief.

I was grieving the mother I needed and wanted to have.

The sober one. The safe one. The one who would have shown up to my cross-country meets and cheered. The one who would have asked how my day was and listened to the answer.

That mother really never existed.

I realized my mom experienced so much trauma in her own childhood and young life that she simply could not be the mother I needed her to be. Not because she didn't love me. Because she didn't have it to give.

I wasn't just grieving her. I grieved everything that I didn't have due to having a mother with a substance use disorder: A carefree childhood. A peaceful, safe home. The chance to just be a kid.

Now here's why this kind of grief is so sneaky, Reader.

Nobody died.

Your parent is still here. Still showing up at holidays. Still calling your phone.

So, when you try to explain this feeling, people say things like:

"But your mom's still alive."

"At least you have a parent."

"Be grateful."

As if gratitude and grief can't live in the same body.

They can. They do. I promise.

You're not grieving your parent as they are.

You're grieving the version of them that should have existed.

And that loss is real.

The fact that it didn't come with a casserole and a sympathy card doesn't make it smaller.

It makes it harder, I believe. It’s slow. It’s hidden from the surface. It’s lonely.

I made a video that goes deep on this. What you're actually grieving. Why this grief makes you feel alone. And how to carry it without letting it run your life.

→ Watch the full video here.​

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I don't think this grief goes away. I think it changes shape. I think you learn to carry it differently.

Naming the grief can be a hugely helpful step in healing.

Because once you know it's grief, you can stop asking what's wrong with you.

Nothing is wrong with you. You lost something real. It makes sense that you would grieve that.

​→ Video is here when you're ready.​

Have you been carrying this kind of grief, Reader? Hit reply and tell me. Even one word. Even just "yes." I read every single one.

Know someone who's carrying this? Forward this email. Sometimes just hearing "it's grief" is the thing that changes everything. Sign up to receive this free newsletter.​

Resources and Recommendations

🎬 Why you feel guilty doing nothing (Nope, it's not laziness.) ​Watch the video.

💐 Mother's Day feels complicated? You're not alone. ​Read my tips for navigating it.​

📘 The books, tools & resources that helped me most Everything I recommend, all in one place. ​Check out the resources ​

👋 P.S. If you’re new here… You're receiving this email because you signed up for it. You likely grew up being the responsible one and you're learning that your first job is actually taking care of yourself. I'm Jody Lamb. I'm an author and memoirist who had to figure all of this out from scratch. I've been writing and making videos about it since 2009. Every email is a mix of honest stories, practical stuff, and the kind of permission I wish someone had given me years ago. My memoir, My Job is Me, comes out September 2026. I'm really glad you're here. 📖 Grab the free Blueprint: jodylamb.com/guide​ 🎥 Watch on YouTube: youtube.com/jodylamb 🌐 Visit: www.jodylamb.com​