Behind closed doors, we never truly know what someone is going through. We can’t always understand how they feel, what they think needs to be done, or how they navigate their emotions.
Right now, I’m grieving in ways I can’t always explain. There are different forms of grief, and sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what’s causing the sadness. Is it my monthly cycle? Is it the ache I feel from missing my grandma or my dad? Is it the regret over past mistakes, the longing to rewind time? Or is it the pressure of feeling like I’m falling short as a person, as a child of God, as a friend, a sister, a family member?
These tears are something no one else will ever truly understand. I sometimes wish people could feel what I feel, but often, they just don’t. And maybe that’s okay.
There’s a certain isolation in grief, a silent battle that we face alone. We want someone to understand, to step into our shoes, to see the world from our eyes—even just for a moment. But sometimes, it’s just not possible.
Why do we feel that way? Why do we want others to know exactly what we're going through? Maybe it’s because we long for validation, or perhaps we just want to feel less alone in our struggles. But in the end, we often have to figure it out on our own, even if we wish we didn’t have to.
It’s hard. It’s painful. But it’s something we all face in our own way. And sometimes, all we can do is keep going, even when no one understands why we’re crying, or why we feel the way we do.
Authentically,
Tam
Add comment
Comments