We’ve spent the past few weeks talking about survival and what happens after life stabilizes enough that survival is no longer the only goal. Recently, we talked about desire returning — that moment when the question shifts from How do I get through this? to What do I actually want now?

But there’s another layer to that transition that I feel we need to talk about more: where purpose comes from.

For many people who have lived through loss, purpose begins in pain. We try to make meaning out of what we endured. We support others walking through similar circumstances. We advocate, volunteer, speak up, and get involved in ways that connect directly to the thing that changed our lives.

There’s nothing wrong with that. In many ways, it’s a natural response.

After my second husband died, I found myself stepping into causes he believed in. I volunteered with the PTO, where he had been a significant presence. Eventually, I ran for the school committee and was elected. In many ways, I was continuing work that mattered deeply to him.

Part of my motivation was honoring his legacy in the community. But there was another part of it, too. Through those commitments, I was learning about a side of him I hadn’t fully understood when we were together. The work he cared about was revealing another dimension of the man I had shared my life with.

For a while, that felt like purpose.

And to be clear, those roles were worthwhile. They mattered to the community and to the people involved. But as time went on, I began to realize something important: while those efforts honored his purpose, they weren’t necessarily addressing mine.

They weren’t fueling my soul.

I didn’t have that realization all at once. It surfaced gradually as I continued moving forward with life. Somewhere along the way, writing became more than therapy. Sharing my experiences became more than reflection. And stepping back into acting — something I had once loved but set aside for practical reasons — began to feel like reclaiming a part of myself that had been waiting patiently in the background.

In other words, my purpose began shifting from honoring pain to building something meaningful from who I am.

Here’s the thing: that distinction matters.

Purpose that grows out of pain can be powerful. Pain sharpens our awareness. It clarifies what matters and often compels us to help others avoid or navigate similar experiences. Many meaningful movements, careers, and missions begin that way.

But pain was never meant to be my only fuel.

Eventually, life asks a different question: not just What did this experience teach you?, but What do you want to create now?

That question opens the door to a different kind of purpose. One that isn’t entirely tied to the moment that changed your life.

In Grief Recovery for Adults, I created and shared the PURPOSE framework — a process designed to help people rebuild their lives with intention after loss. What I’ve come to understand over time is that purpose isn’t something we simply discover once and keep forever. It evolves as we evolve.

Early on, purpose might be about healing (or survival). Later, it might be about helping others. Eventually, it may become something even broader: building, creating, contributing, and exploring life from a place that is no longer defined by what hurt us.

The pain still matters. The lessons still matter. They’re part of the foundation.

But foundations are meant to support something new.

If purpose remains permanently anchored to the hardest chapter of our lives, then pain remains the center of the story. When purpose begins to grow from curiosity, creativity, and intention, the story expands.

That doesn’t erase the past. It simply means the past isn’t the engine anymore.

Looking back, I can see that the path from loss to purpose wasn’t linear for me. It involved honoring someone else’s legacy, learning from the work he valued, and eventually realizing that my own voice and interests were calling me in a different direction.

Writing, sharing, coaching, speaking, performing — those weren’t attempts to escape grief; they were ways of building a life that felt fully my own.

That’s a very different kind of purpose to build a life around.

So here’s the reflection I’ll leave you with this week, and something I’d like you to ponder.

Many of us discover purpose through pain. It’s often the doorway that opens our awareness to what matters most.

But at some point, life invites us to ask a deeper question:

Is my purpose still fueled by what hurt me…

or has it begun to grow from who I am now and who I am becoming?

There’s no right timeline for that shift. It happens differently for everyone. But when purpose begins to move beyond pain and into intention, something changes.

You’re no longer only responding to what happened.

You’re building something because you’re here.

And that might be something worth considering