Key Takeaways
- A popular LinkedIn post used poetic lines about leaving jobs, relationships, places, and closed doors, then claimed a “new you” no longer fits the old life.
- The text is not a scientific claim by itself, but it echoes well-studied themes: grief, identity change, and post-traumatic growth.
- Maximum technical and scientific rigor means separating a moving message from what research can and cannot support.
- If grief stays intense for a long time and blocks daily life, it may need professional care.
Story & Details
A small post, a big pull
In December 2025, a short LinkedIn post spread fast. It sat under familiar buttons like “Recommend,” “Comment,” “Repost,” and “Send.” It appeared to a first-degree network and showed it had been posted two hours earlier. On the phone screen, the time read 19:06; Dutch time 19:06. The battery showed 71%. A single heart reaction rested below the text.
What the post said, in plain English
The message was a reminder built from repeated “for” lines. It spoke about jobs that had to be left, or jobs that ended by force, and that can still be missed. It spoke about relationships that were left for one’s own good, yet still remembered with nostalgia. It spoke about places that were left, with or without packed bags, and the quiet question of what would happen if a return were possible. It spoke about doors that closed suddenly or slowly, and how the heart can feel left behind. It spoke about cycles that ended, even when people try to hold on, because moving forward can feel scary.
Then came the turning point: even if a person could go back to all of that, the newer version of that person has already moved forward. The post named what might have been gained along the way: strength, experience, knowledge, awareness, clarity, and self-love. It ended with a firm line: this newer self does not belong there anymore.
Why people asked about “scientific validity”
After reading it, a reader asked about technical and scientific validity, and then asked again for maximum technical and scientific rigor. That is a fair demand. Many online texts feel true. Fewer are careful with what can be proven.
What science can support, and what it cannot
Research on grief shows that loss can bring real changes in mind and body, and that people do not all follow the same path. Some people recover with time and support. Some people struggle much longer, and symptoms can stay strong and disabling. This is one reason modern clinical work describes prolonged grief disorder and sets criteria around persistence and daily function.
The post also leans into a second idea: growth after hardship. In psychology, “post-traumatic growth” is a term used for positive change reported after severe stress or trauma. Researchers have tried to measure this, for example with the Posttraumatic Growth Inventory, and they also warn that measurement is tricky. A person can feel growth and still feel pain. A person can also feel pressure to claim growth when he is not ready. More recent work argues that strong claims about growth need good methods and, when possible, data that tracks change over time, not only one-time memory.
So the most rigorous reading is balanced: the post is a strong piece of writing about meaning-making, not a lab result. It lines up with real concepts, but it should not be treated like a guarantee that every loss will produce strength, clarity, and self-love.
A tiny Dutch mini-lesson for real life
Simple use: these short lines can fit everyday moments around change, loss, and support.
First phrase: Het spijt me.
Word-by-word: Het = it; spijt = regret; me = me.
Natural use note: often used as “I am sorry,” but it is also used for small everyday apologies.
Second phrase: Sterkte.
Word-by-word: this is one word that carries the idea of strength.
Natural use note: commonly said to someone going through a hard time, like “strength” offered as support, often with a warm tone.
Third phrase: Ik mis je.
Word-by-word: Ik = I; mis = miss; je = you.
Natural use note: direct and personal; used with close people.
A clear, human way to respond on LinkedIn
Many readers want to reply without sounding dramatic. Short, calm lines work well, such as: a simple thanks for the reminder; a note about learning to let go; or a sentence about choosing forward motion with kindness.
Conclusions
The post worked because it named common losses—work, love, place, timing—and then offered a clean ending: the self that survives is not the self that left. Science does not need to fight that message. It only needs to place it correctly: as meaning and language, not proof. With that frame, the words can comfort without turning into a rule that everyone must “grow” on schedule.
Selected References
[1] https://selfadvocacy.ici.umn.edu/learning/changes-grief-loss
[2] https://www.youtube.com/embed/0GrFMkLrDv8?feature=oembed
[3] https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/31180982/
[4] https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/8827649/
[5] https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8062071/
[6] https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/prolonged-grief-disorder
Appendix
Algorithm. A set of rules a platform uses to sort and show content, often based on signals like clicks, time spent, and connections.
First-degree connection. A direct connection on LinkedIn, meaning two accounts have accepted a connection request with each other.
Grief. A natural response to loss that can include emotional pain, changes in thinking, and changes in the body.
LinkedIn. A professional social network where people share work updates, posts, and messages, and connect with others.
Post-traumatic growth. Positive change a person may report after struggling with very hard events, often discussed as changes in priorities, relationships, or self-view.
Prolonged grief disorder. A condition where grief stays intense and persistent and seriously disrupts daily life for a long period.
Scientific rigor. Careful thinking and evidence that avoids overclaiming, separates feelings from facts, and uses good measurement and methods.
Self-concept. The set of beliefs a person has about who he is, including traits, roles, and values.
My Diary - Leonardo Cardillo 