Why Major Life Changes Can Feel Like Traumatic Loss

There’s not one of us who hasn’t experienced any sort of major life changes. And if we haven’t, then that’s something to look forward to. This article hopes to make us all better equipped to manage the next major life transition.

 

Disclaimer: This is a sponsored article, but all thoughts and opinions are my own. Read my full disclosure here.

 

 

Major Life Changes: A Story

 

Does this story sound familiar?

 

The email arrived at 9:47 AM. “Position eliminated effective immediately”.

 

I’m sitting in my car for three hours. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe properly. My chest felt like someone was standing on it, which is the kind of invisible physical agony we don’t talk about.

 

I watched my partner’s name flash on the screen. Over and over. I had no energy to answer. No words to explain that my entire identity—my entire reason for being, in my own mind—had just evaporated. Three months later, I’m still having days where getting dressed feels impossible. Everyone says, “just network” or “update your LinkedIn“, and they sound like cheerful, unhelpful robots.

 

They don’t get it. I’m not mourning a paycheck. I’m mourning who I used to be.

 

This is the messy, uncomfortable truth of major life changes. Nobody warns us about this part. How job loss can sometimes feel like death. How divorce leaves us with a phantom limb syndrome for a partner who is still breathing. How an empty nest leaves us wondering who we are when “Mom” or “Dad” isn’t our primary identifier anymore. We can feel unwanted, unanchored, and utterly adrift.

 

And it’s not just the bad stuff. Even good changes can break us—that dream promotion to management. Buying the house we’ve always wanted. The baby finally arriving. The wedding day passing. Then comes the crash, the post-transition psychological void nobody discusses openly.

 

 

The Neuroscience Of Major Life Changes

 

Our brains are lazy, beautiful things. They absolutely love patterns. Routines become our way of living. Same parking spot. Same lunch routine. When neurons fire together, they wire together for maximum efficiency. It’s how we function on autopilot.

 

Major life changes—a move, a new job, a breakup—are the equivalent of a complete power grid shutdown. They force an instant, brutal rewiring. Every small decision now requires conscious effort. Which route to take? Where should we go for our food shopping? When to wake up? This is the root of the mental exhaustion that we often feel, often before the crisis even starts to sink in.

 

The stress hormone, cortisol, can flood our system when we’re going through major life changes, which can contribute to or help develop mental health issues like depression. It can also cause impairments to our attention, emotional processing, and memory (Lupien, Juster, Raymond, and Marin, 2018). 

 

 

Major Life Changes: Identifying Our Breaking Points

 

Some people need massive trauma to crack. Others, not so much, to the point that even someone’s favourite coffee shop closing could be enough. Neither is wrong. We all have different thresholds. The key is catching the sneaky symptoms that tell us we’re in a tailspin.

 

Sleep: The unconscious alarm

One of our first warning signs is our sleep. Are we talking longer to fall asleep? Are we having trouble staying asleep? Furthermore, when we’re experiencing trauma as we go through a major life transition, it can affect the quality of our sleep, specifically our REM sleep (rapid eye movement, our dream state), which is a time our brain processes emotions and stores our memories.

 

Sleeping well can help process trauma and reduce the emotional impact that it has on us. Even dreams that are quite traumatic because of this are believed to happen to help process it (Newsom, 2025). Think of it like a form of exposure therapy. So if we’re struggling to sleep while going through a major life transition, then it might be a good idea to work on our sleep and get out the old journal to process this transition.

 

Thus, are we experiencing any mysterious pains that are unusual for us? Backaches, headaches/migraines, digestive issues, skin breakouts, and jaw aches are just some of the common ways our bodies can respond physiologically to psychological pain.

 

 

Food relationships

Another warning sign is how our relationship to food changes. Are we forgetting to eat our first meal until late afternoon? Are we living on snack foods or just instant noodles? Alternatively, are we binge eating ice cream or other high-calorie sweets? Or are we ordering takeout constantly because cooking requires decisions we can’t make and energy we don’t have?

 

The lights are on, but no one’s home

Has our ability to concentrate or function vanished or been gradually declining? This can be another warning sign that one of our major life changes is affecting us. Do we find that we need to keep reading the same email five times because we’re not able to take in the information? Did we miss the turn to get home, or miss our stop on public transport? This is a pretty standard stress response (Liu et al., 2020).

 

Anger

Another response to such stress is how we can put the walls up. It’s a defensive response, but one that more often than not leads to a worsening of our wellbeing. A classic sign of this is how short our fuse is, whereby we may be quick to anger or even rage over things that wouldn’t normally cause such a response, such as having slow WiFi. Alternatively, we may find ourselves crying over innocent questions because we’re so overwhelmed by the major life changes in our lives.

 

Isolation

Social withdrawal often creeps in slowly as well. We may find we’re ignoring texts for days or cancelling plans at the last minute. Isolation feels safer than trying to explain the mess we believe we’re becoming. This is where the feeling of being unwanted and pulling away from others becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 

 

Major Life Changes

 

Major life changes can strip away the essential things that make us feel worthwhile and connected. Some of them make sense, but some of them might make less sense, at least not at first glance.

 

Job loss and career void

Work provides more than money. It proves structure. Purpose (for some). Social connection. Identity. Routine. Losing employment means losing all of these simultaneously. Often, the shame hits hardest, especially for those of us taught that our value equals our paycheck or our job title.

 

Financial terror compounds everything. But therapy often focuses only on money anxiety. Missing the deeper wound, as we may have lost our answer to, “What do we do?”.

 

If we get laid off and are struggling to get an interview for a new one, we can often feel lost. The void isn’t just time; it’s purpose. Wake up for what? Shower, why? The couch becomes our new colleague. Then we watch as former colleagues, our work “friends” disappear instantly. They don’t call or message. This can cause us to feel abandoned, but the reality is that work friends are only our friends because of where we work. Sometimes work friends transition to being friend friends, but that’s rarely the case.

 

 

Relationship changes

Just like the loss of work friends is an example of relationships changing, so is divorce, and again, it isn’t just one loss; it’s fifty simultaneous losses. The daily partner presence. Shared jokes. Future plans. The warmth of the bed. The rhythm of evening decompression. But let’s not forget what happens to our couple friends either, and if sides are taken, who will remain as a friend from our shared friendship group?

 

We can find ourselves grieving the weirdest things, such as our partner’s terrible snoring. Fighting over thermostat settings. Even our stupid arguments about dishwasher loading. We’re alone, but the ghosts of the relationship will be everywhere.

 

Parenting transitions

Nobody discusses parental mental health honestly. The crash after birth. The panic of responsibility. The identity dissolution into the parent from what we were before. Someone with more freedom and money.

 

First-time parents lose themselves completely. Friendships evaporate. Hobbies disappear. Career becomes secondary. Marriage strains are unavoidable with the level of exhaustion that comes with being a new parent. Who were we before this tiny dictator arrived?

 

Parents searching for childcare solutions while managing careers need support. Yet, this can be very difficult and often isolating. Finding reliable childcare can feel like an impossible task. If we’re lucky, we may find childcare like the licensed preschool Selwyn at Melodies. But even then, the parental guilt can remain.

 

 

Then there’s empty nest syndrome, which sounds cliché until it hits. Eighteen plus years focused on them. The evolution of getting them to school. Homework battles. University applications. Then silence. House echoes. Purpose evaporates.

 

We may feel that special needs or disability diagnoses shatter expected futures for our children. Dreams require adjustment. The difference becomes normal. Grief for imagined children while loving actual children. Complicated emotions society doesn’t acknowledge. Emotions we can feel guilty for having.

 

Second child syndrome surprises everyone. Should be easier, right? Wrong. Different temperament. Changed dynamics. Jealousy management. Guilt distribution. Double exhaustion. Half the patience. Let’s not forget that adoption trauma goes both ways as well. We may grieve the biological connection. Process lengthy invasive assessments. Navigate attachment challenges. Feel judged constantly. Love fiercely while battling systems.

 

Health diagnoses and psychological impact

Hearing that “we have cancer” changes everything instantly. Even “highly treatable” kinds. The word itself traumatises us. Death enters conversations. The future becomes uncertain. Treatment decisions paralyse us, and there are a million people out there trying to scam you out of money for snack oil treatments. At present, every choice feels like choosing death or suffering. No good options visible.

 

Chronic illness diagnoses hit differently. Diabetes. Multiple sclerosis (MS). Lupus. Fibromyalgia. Such diagnoses can feel like life sentence verdicts. Dreams need modification. Relationships require renegotiation. Identity shifts permanently.

 

Our partners might become caretakers overnight. Our partner becomes a nurse, and we fear the romance may die under the medical weight. Resentment may build silently, in both directions. The carer partner mourns too. Lost plans. Changed partner. Caretaker burden. Future fears. But we’re not the sick ones, so guilt compounds grief.

 

 

Geographic relocations and stability

Moving isn’t just about address changes. It’s a complete life disruption. Favourite coffee shop (or in my case, my favourite curry house). Gone. Running route. Gone. A dentist who knows our teeth. Gone. A neighbour who accepts packages. Gone.

 

International moves multiply trauma. Language barriers. Cultural confusion. Visa anxiety. Banking nightmares. Healthcare systems. School differences. Food strangeness. Complete alienation. Military families know this pain intimately. Constant upheaval. New schools. Lost friendships. Career interruptions for spouses. “Bloom where planted” sounds nice. Exhaustion is reality.

 

Then there’s reverse culture shock that surprises returnees. My home country changed. We changed. Nothing fits anymore. Feel foreign everywhere. Belong nowhere fully. For those relocating within New Zealand, reliable moving companies in South Auckland, such as ZLand, reduce logistical stress. But emotional preparation matters more than perfect packing. But, getting the professionals to move us will do our back and knees a favour. I still experience knee problems from a move I made in 2008.

 

Financial changes and anxiety

Bankruptcy isn’t a financial failure. Although it can often feel that way. But it can sometimes cause an identity collapse. We can feel like we’ve gone from being a responsible person to becoming deadbeat. The provider becomes a burden. Success becomes shame.

 

This can lead to secrecy, which compounds the trauma. Hide from friends. Lie about situations. Pretend normalcy while drowning. Isolation increases desperation.

 

 

Sudden wealth paradoxically also exists, causing breakdowns. Lottery winners. Inheritances. IPO windfalls. Startup acquisitions. Money amplifies existing problems but also creates new ones. Some friends change around wealth. Either want handouts or feel inferior. Family dynamics shift. Siblings’ resentment can grow. Parents expect support. Children become entitled. Money isolates dramatically.

 

Retirement psychology can surprise everyone. “I worked forty years for this moment. Then what?” Days stretch endlessly. Purpose evaporates. Death feels closer. Depression arrives.

 

The unacknowledged grief

Major life changes create something called ambiguous loss. A person exists, but the relationship dies. An ex-spouse lives nearby. Dementia steals a personality. A career dies, but the company lives.

 

Society recognises grief as a result of death. They send casseroles. Offer condolences. They understand that absence. But life transition grief? There are no funerals to give us that closure, where we could grieve for our former selves. That makes the sorrow complicated, isolating, and often impossible to express.

 

 

Building A System Of Resilience

 

Resilience isn’t a personality trait. It’s not something we’re born with. It’s a system of preparation, action, and maintenance. No one has an unlimited source of resilience, especially without the aforementioned preparation, action, and maintenance.

 

Create non-negotiable anchors

Start building these before the crisis hits. They are tiny self-care rituals that survive any storm. For example, get into the habit of a morning walk or an evening tea ritual. Maybe even start doing the crossword on a Sunday evening, or some other hobby we enjoy. When everything else changes, these small constants are what keep us grounded.

 

Physical health is psychological protection

Exercise isn’t vanity during a crisis. It’s medicine. Being active causes the release of endorphins, which helps relieve stress (Ali, Ahmed, Jawad, and Mustafa, 2021). A feeling of basic, bodily accomplishment when we may feel useless. Our physical health is our psychological armour.

 

Therapy is strength training

Therapy isn’t insurance against weakness; it’s strength training. Learning coping strategies before needing them desperately is a good preventive strategy. A crisis isn’t when to start therapy; it’s when to use the tools therapy has already taught us. Thus, getting help early is important.

 

 

Patience over perfection

Often, recovery isn’t a race; it’s a marathon. This can take time, because we’re fundamentally rebuilding who we are. For example, divorce recovery can take years. The first year is generally focused on survival. After that comes rebuilding, but it’s important to know that this, just like any other recovery from any major life changes, is different for everyone. There isn’t a one-size-fits-all plan to follow.

 

Setbacks aren’t failures; they’re data. Things we can learn from, so try not to let them trigger regression. Instead, see what we can learn from these moments so we can prepare for the next occurrence.

 

Growth indicators to track

There are a few signs that will let us know we’re recovering, such as our first genuine laugh. Maybe we watched a microjoy and we actually felt the joy of a cat doing something stupid on Instagram. We may also feel the return of boredom. Being in crisis mode is anything but boring. Boredom requires safety, because our mind then isn’t constantly threat-assessing. Celebrate its arrival.

 

When we start to make plans again, such as making dinner reservations next week, this can be a sign that we’re leaving crisis mode. Hope requires belief in a future, and that returns gradually.

 

Professional support

When multiple symptoms appear, our intervention needs to be urgent. Because major life changes aren’t just stressful; they’re traumatic—they require us to treat them as such. Finding a specialist in transition-related depression, such as The Psychology Atelier, can help us get back on track. They can also help us create a plan to manage this and future major life changes.

 

 

Summary

 

Major life changes can break us, but it’s only temporary. That’s normal. That’s expected. That is survivable. But recovery isn’t returning to the person we were before. That person is gone. Recovery is becoming someone new. Someone who survived. Someone who knows they can break and rebuild, and that knowledge is our most powerful asset. Life is all about change, and even though we might not realise it, we’re changing all the time.

 

Tomorrow will differ from today. That’s both the problem and the only promise that matters.

 

What part of a major life transition hit you the hardest—the loss of routine, the loss of identity, the isolation, or something else?

 

As always, leave your feedback in the comments section below. Also, please share your experiences with major life changes in the comments section below as well. Don’t forget, if you want to stay up-to-date with my blog, you can sign up for my newsletter below. Alternatively, click the red bell icon in the bottom right corner to get push notifications for new articles.

 

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References

 

Ali, A. H., Ahmed, H. S., Jawad, A. S., & Mustafa, M. A. (2021). Endorphin: function and mechanism of action. Sci Arch, 2(1), 9-13. Retrieved from https://sciencearchives.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/Science-Archives-2021-Vol.-2-1-9-13-3.pdf.

Liu, Q., Liu, Y., Leng, X., Han, J., Xia, F., & Chen, H. (2020). Impact of Chronic Stress on Attention Control: Evidence from Behavioral and Event-Related Potential Analyses. Neuroscience bulletin, 36(11), 1395–1410. Retrieved from https://doi.org/10.1007/s12264-020-00549-9 and https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7674527.

Lupien, S. J., Juster, R. P., Raymond, C., & Marin, M. F. (2018). The effects of chronic stress on the human brain: From neurotoxicity, to vulnerability, to opportunity. Frontiers in neuroendocrinology, 49, 91–105. Retrieved from https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yfrne.2018.02.001.

Newsom, R. (2025, July). Trauma and sleep. Sleep Foundation. Retrieved from https://www.sleepfoundation.org/mental-health/trauma-and-sleep.