Loss

Loss is not a single moment—it is a series of memories, internal battles, and unspoken regrets that replay without warning. It settles quietly, then consumes loudly. There is constant remorse, a persistent weight that pulls you under, leaving you drowning in sorrow even when you are surrounded by air.

There are moments of helplessness where the pain becomes so overwhelming that you want everything to stop. Not wanting to die, but not wanting to live either. Existing in the space between—where breathing feels automatic, but life feels absent. The heart beats, the lungs work, yet nothing feels alive inside.

You feel lost and powerless, yet you are forced to keep moving forward. Not because you are ready, but because others depend on you. For the sake of your family, for the people who need you every day, you continue. You smile at loved ones who are still here, even while feeling completely empty inside. You show up physically while being emotionally absent.

Loneliness becomes a constant companion, even in rooms full of people who care. Their words reach your ears but carry no sound. You cannot absorb comfort because you are trapped in a deep hole where no light seems to exist. You hear others speak, but you cannot feel their presence. You are breathing, but not living. You know your heart is beating, but you cannot feel it.

There is a strange awareness in knowing you are not alone in these emotions, yet still feeling isolated by them. Grief is personal, and the process has no clear starting point. Healing feels distant, undefined, and intimidating. Still, somewhere within that numbness is the quiet understanding that there is a process—and that one day, you may be ready to begin.

That beginning may look like vulnerability. Allowing yourself to be seen by someone who does not yet know you. Taking the risk of letting someone in without fear, even when trust feels unsafe. Learning what is right for you in this moment, not forever—just for now—until you find your pathway forward.

Healing does not mean forgetting. It means choosing to stop hurting yourself and those around you without carrying guilt for surviving. It means allowing yourself the grace to feel, to pause, and to rebuild at your own pace. Loss changes you—but it does not have to end you.