If you recognise these 9 signs, you may have experienced hidden childhood grief

We all carry stories we haven’t finished reading.

Some chapters are joyful, others messy—and a few stay tucked so far inside that we hardly notice them. Hidden childhood grief lives in those buried pages.

It shows up later as quirks we can’t explain, emotions that overflow, or a nagging feeling that something’s off even when life looks good on paper.

When I first swapped spreadsheets for psychology articles, I was shocked by how often adults trip over sorrows they never knew they were carrying.

If you’ve ever wondered why certain patterns stick no matter how hard you work on yourself, childhood grief might be lingering underneath.

Below are nine subtle signs I see most often. As you read, ask yourself: “Where does this show up in my life?” If a point resonates, I’ll offer a practical way to start untangling it.

1. Persistent people-pleasing

Do you agree to favors before you even check your calendar?

I used to volunteer for every late-night project back in my finance days. Praise felt like oxygen, and I’d do anything to keep it flowing.

Looking back, I was trying to avoid the sting of disappointment I felt as a kid whenever adults argued. Pleasing everyone became my safety blanket.

Try this: The next time someone asks for something, buy yourself a pause. Say, “Let me check and get back to you.” That tiny buffer lets your wiser self weigh the cost before your inner child says yes out of fear.

2. Emotional numbness or detachment

Some people feel too much; others feel nothing at all.

If you catch yourself saying, “I’m fine” while clueless about what you actually feel, you may have frozen feelings long ago to survive chaotic moments.

Trauma researcher Dr. Bessel van der Kolk notes that traumatized people often need help “befriending the sensations in their bodies” so emotions become tolerable again.

Try this: Set a three-times-a-day phone alarm labeled “Feel check.” When it rings, pause and name one physical sensation (tight shoulders?), one emotion (mild irritation?), and one need (stretch?). Language reconnects mind and body without forcing big confessions.

3. Perfectionism and overachievement

I never aimed for good enough—only spotless. Spreadsheets? Pristine formatting.

Garden beds? No weed in sight. Perfectionism often masks grief by turning uncertainty into controllable checklists.

Author and addiction specialist Anne Wilson Schaef warns, “Perfectionism is self-abuse of the highest order.”

 Ouch—yet freeing, because it shifts the focus from performance to compassion.

Try this: Choose one task today to complete at 90 percent. Eat the slightly burnt cookie. Send the email with one reread instead of five. Notice how the world keeps spinning—and how much lighter you feel.

4. Fear of abandonment or rejection

Ever reread a friend’s text three times, convinced the period instead of a heart emoji means the friendship is over?

Hyper-vigilance around losing people often points to early-life separations: divorce, hospital stays, or even a beloved teacher moving away.

Try this: Draft (but don’t send) the worst-case-scenario text: “I think you’re mad at me and will disappear.” Seeing it on-screen helps you realize how unlikely it sounds.

Then replace it with a grounding statement: “We’ve had many good exchanges; one slow reply isn’t proof of abandonment.”

5. Disproportionate reactions to small losses

Your partner accidentally breaks a mug and you feel gut-punched.

Logical brain knows it’s a $5 cup; emotional brain grieves like it’s a family heirloom.

Small losses can reopen the unprocessed “big one” from childhood—maybe the sudden death of a pet or a move that forced you to leave friends.

Try this: When a minor loss hits hard, whisper, “This feels larger than today.” Place a hand on your chest and breathe out for twice as long as you breathe in.

Longer exhales calm the nervous system so you can separate present sadness from past grief.

6. Difficulty trusting closeness

You crave intimacy but keep emotional escape routes ready—ghosting after a few dates, joking when conversation gets sincere.

Hidden grief teaches kids that connections hurt, so adult you guards the door.

Try this: Practice low-stakes vulnerability. Tell a colleague, “I’m nervous about the presentation tomorrow.”

Notice if they respond kindly. Collecting micro-experiences of safe sharing retrains your brain that closeness isn’t automatically dangerous.

7. Heavy nostalgia and clinging to the past

Old playlists, childhood cartoons, even outdated software—if you use these as comfort blankets, ask yourself what part of the past feels safer than today.

Neuroscientist Dr. Mary-Frances O’Connor explains in The Grieving Brain that grief is “a form of learning” in which the brain must update itself to a world that has changed. Nostalgia can stall that lesson.

Try this: Allocate a “memory hour” once a week. Flip through photos, play the mixtape, cry if you need. Then close the box and engage in a brand-new activity—new recipe, new trail.

Balancing past and present teaches the brain it can honor memories and still explore.

8. Hyper-empathy and the caretaker role

You sense a co-worker’s tension before she speaks or feel a stranger’s sadness across the café.

Kids who carried emotional weight for parents often grow into adults who read rooms like weather stations.

Hyper-empathy is beautiful but draining.

Try this: Before you rush to comfort someone, ask, “Did they seek my support?” If not, silently wish them well and check whether you need support first. Boundaries protect compassion from becoming self-neglect.

9. Trouble saying goodbye and handling transitions

Leaving parties last, dreading job changes, or postponing farewells are classic grief echoes. Each goodbye reminds your nervous system of abrupt endings from childhood.

Compassion researcher Dr. Kristin Neff notes that offering ourselves the same kindness we extend to friends is key to navigating uncomfortable change.

Try this: Create a “goodbye ritual.” When a project wraps, write three lessons it taught you, say thanks aloud, and shred a symbolic sticky note.

Rituals give endings structure, making them feel less like free-fall and more like a landing.

Final thoughts

If several of these signs hit home, take heart—you’re already halfway to healing simply by noticing.

Hidden grief isn’t a character flaw; it’s an unfinished story waiting for a more compassionate author.

Therapy (particularly grief-informed or inner-child work), journaling, and supportive friendships turn the page faster, but even small daily experiments—pausing before you people-please or breathing through a minor loss—chip away at the weight.

Most importantly, remember that grief is love in a heavy coat. When you learn to hang that coat up now and then, your shoulders can carry joy again.

Keep observing with kindness. Every insight you gain is proof that your past shapes you—but it never has to trap you.