Let's dive into an important work that helps reframe our past perceptions of difficult events in our lives: Necessary Losses: The Loves, Illusions, Dependencies, and Impossible Expectations That All of Us Have to Give Up in Order to Grow by Judith Viorst (published in 1986). It's a beautiful, thoughtful book—part philosophy, part psychology, part literature—that reframes loss not as something to dread or avoid, but as an essential, even life-giving part of becoming fully human.
Viorst's core message is simple yet profound: We grow by losing and leaving and letting go. Life is paved with renunciations—things we must give up to move forward, mature, and develop deeper wisdom, resilience, and authentic connection. These aren't optional tragedies; they're necessary losses. Without them, we'd stay stuck in illusions, dependencies, or childish versions of ourselves.
She traces this across the entire lifespan, starting from birth. The very first loss is the primal separation from the mother—the end of that "blurred-boundary bliss" of oneness where we're completely held, fed, and protected unconditionally. That cut of the umbilical cord kicks off our lifelong journey of individuation: becoming separate, responsible, connected people. From there, she walks through stages and types of loss:
- Childhood and adolescence — Losing the illusion of omnipotence (we're not the center of the universe), the fantasy of perfect parental love, the safety of childhood dependencies, innocence about sex and the world, and the belief that we'll always be young and invulnerable.
- Adulthood and relationships — Letting go of impossible expectations in love and marriage (no one can be our everything, fix us, or make us whole), the myth of perfect romance, control over others, and the idea that we can avoid conflict or pain forever.
- Midlife and beyond — The gradual (or sudden) losses of youth, physical vitality, career identities, dreams we won't achieve, and—most painfully—the people we love through separation, divorce, illness, or death.
- The ultimate losses — Facing our own aging, the death of parents or children (which upend our sense of order), and eventually our own mortality.
Viorst weaves in psychoanalysis (Freud, Mahler on separation-individuation), poetry, literary excerpts, personal stories, and research to show how universal these experiences are. Loss isn't just death or breakup—it's also losing illusions of safety, power, freedom, and the younger self who thought they'd never wrinkle or die.
The hopeful flip side: Every necessary loss brings a corresponding gain. Grieving the end of symbiosis teaches independence and selfhood. Letting go of idealized love opens space for real, imperfect intimacy. Mourning a loved one builds resilience, empathy, and a deeper appreciation for life. Accepting mortality sharpens our priorities and deepens meaning. We emerge wiser, more compassionate, more present—not despite the losses, but because of them.
The book isn't a step-by-step workbook like Bradshaw's (no specific exercises or visualizations), but it's rich with reflections that invite you to look at your own life story through this lens. Viorst's warm, honest, sometimes witty voice makes heavy topics feel human and bearable. She normalizes grief without minimizing it, showing that mourning well is how we honor what mattered—and how we keep growing.
In therapy terms, this book helps reframe stuck places: When you're grieving a relationship, a lost dream, a parent's aging, or your own changing body, it's not "just" sadness—it's part of the developmental work of becoming more whole. Accepting that loss is inevitable doesn't make it easy, but it can reduce shame or resistance ("Why is this happening to me?") and open curiosity ("What might this loss be teaching me? What new capacity or perspective is emerging?").
Does any particular loss feel especially alive for you right now—maybe something from earlier life that's echoing, or a more recent one? We could explore how it fits into this bigger picture of necessary losses and gains. Many clients find the book comforting and validating; it's like a wise friend saying, "This hurts because it matters—and that's exactly how growth happens."