Blog

Sometimes grief doesn’t hit when you expect it to. Sometimes you make it through the hard part... the conversation, the event, the errand, the birthday, the gathering and you think, Okay... I’m doing alright. You hold it together. You smile at the right moments. You answer the questions. You do what needs to be done. And then you get in your car. Or you get home and close the door. Or you finally sit down at night when everything is quiet. And that’s when it hits. That’s what

I didn’t expect grief to affect my brain the way it does. I expected sadness. Tears. That hollow feeling in your chest. What I didn’t expect was how hard it could be to think. To find words. To remember simple things. To finish a sentence and forget what I was saying halfway through. Grief can make you feel like you’re walking around in a fog, like your mind is trying to function normally, but something underneath it is taking up all the space. Sometimes it looks like: forget

There’s a part of grief that can feel confusing, even scary. It’s not the tears. It’s the moments when there are no tears at all. When you wake up and feel... flat. When you go through the day like you’re watching yourself from the outside. When people expect you to be falling apart, and you’re just... functioning. Sometimes it can make you wonder: Do I not care enough? Why am I not feeling what I’m “supposed” to feel? What kind of person feels nothing after something devasta