You know,
We talk about grief like it's sadness,
Like it's tears,
Loss,
Something we can pinpoint to.
But a lot of grief doesn't look that way.
A lot of it goes unspoken.
Sometimes grief isn't about losing someone.
It's about what you didn't receive.
What you needed that never came,
And what you had to push down just to get through.
And because it didn't have a clear moment or a clear ending,
It never got named as grief.
So instead,
It shows up in other ways.
In the body.
And the nervous system.
And that feeling that something is still there,
Even if you can't explain it.
And especially as children.
We didn't have the language for it.
We didn't say,
I'm grieving the loss of safety or I'm grieving not being seen.
We just adapted.
And what wasn't felt didn't disappear.
It stayed.
And not as something broken,
But as something unfinished.
So when something rises now,
It's not too much.
It may be something that was never allowed to be felt,
Finally asking to move.
And what you're feeling isn't the problem.
It's what never got to finish.