Grief in the Desertion of One’s Community

Brandon Robbins
5 days ago
3 min read

The wound of leaving, and the wound of being left

Community desertion is a grief that lives between people. It is not only the ache of separation but the rupture of meaning, identity, and belonging. Whether someone leaves by choice, necessity, banishment, or quiet drift, the loss reverberates on all sides—within the one who departs, among those who remain, and in the community body itself.

1. The Grief of the One Who Leaves

For the person who deserts—or is forced out—the grief is often layered and contradictory.

Identity fracture: Community names us. When it is lost, people report a hollowing—Who am I without the mirror that knew me? Traditions, roles, and shared language no longer reflect a self.
Ambiguous loss: The community still exists, just without them. This ambiguity blocks closure and fuels rumination, longing, and self-doubt.
Shame and self-blame: Departures framed as “betrayal” or “failure” often embed shame. Even necessary departures (safety, growth, survival) can feel morally compromised.
Survivor’s grief: Those who leave oppressive or unsafe communities may grieve not only what was lost, but what never was—the community that could have protected them.

2. The Grief of Those Who Remain

Those left behind also carry grief, though it may present as anger or silence.

Abandonment wounds: A departure can be felt as rejection—We were not enough. This can harden into resentment.
Disrupted continuity: Elders lose apprentices, families lose bridges, groups lose memory-bearers. The narrative of “who we are” frays.
Fear of contagion: One leaving can awaken fears that others will follow, threatening stability. This fear sometimes fuels moralizing or erasure.

3. When the Community Abandons the Person

Abandonment by the collective—through exile, shunning, or neglect—deepens the wound.

Social death: Being cut off can feel like a kind of living death: loss of protection, resources, and recognition.
Internalized exile: Repeated messages of unworthiness often become internal voices, complicating trust in future relationships.
Trauma response: Hypervigilance, withdrawal, or anger may emerge—not as character flaws, but as adaptations to social injury.

4. The Community’s Unspoken Grief

Communities that abandon someone rarely name their own loss.

Moral injury: Shunning can violate shared values of care and kinship, creating dissonance that is managed by denial.
Narrowed empathy: To justify exclusion, stories simplify. Complexity is sacrificed, and with it, collective compassion.
Loss of wisdom: Communities lose dissent, creativity, and the learning that comes from rupture honestly faced.

5. The Silence Between Sides

Often, what hurts most is not the departure but the absence of witnessing. Grief needs an audience. When no one can speak the loss aloud—when there is no ritual, no goodbye, no shared meaning—grief calcifies.

6. Paths Toward Repair (When Possible)

Not all rifts can be healed, but some can be tended.

Ritual acknowledgment: Naming the loss—without forcing reconciliation—restores dignity to all parties.
Plural narratives: Allowing multiple truths reduces the need for blame.
Boundary-respecting contact: Even limited, symbolic contact can soften absolute exile.
Chosen community: For those abandoned, building new bonds is not a replacement but a continuation of the human need to belong.

7. Holding the Paradox

Community desertion teaches a painful paradox: people can be both harmed and harming; leaving can be both betrayal and survival; belonging can wound, and exile can save. Grief here is not a problem to solve but a truth to carry—with honesty, care, and, when possible, shared witness.