11/04/2025
Grief messes with you.
It gets in your head and your body.
Even good things make you nervous now.
You don’t trust peace.
You don’t trust timing.
You’ve seen how fast life can turn,
so you brace yourself — even when there’s nothing to brace for.
You used to look forward to things.
You used to believe that hard work, love, or prayer could change how it ended.
You hoped the treatment would work.
You hoped they’d pull through.
You hoped you’d have more time.
And when none of that happened, something inside you shut down.
Now it’s hard to believe in much of anything.
When something good happens, you wait for it to go wrong.
When people talk about blessings, you stay quiet.
You don’t want to sound bitter,
but you can’t fake excitement when you’ve watched life take what you love most.
This is what grief does.
It wrecks your sense of safety.
It makes every bit of good feel temporary.
You start guarding yourself,
because it feels easier to expect the worst than to hope for more.
But the part of you that still wants to believe in life —
the part that’s tired of holding back —
it isn’t gone.
It’s just buried under everything you’ve been through.
And one day, when you’re ready,
you’ll feel something shift.
The part of you that still wants to live,
to laugh,
to feel excitement,
to make plans,
to see a future,
will find its way back.
