05/19/2026
For the past two years, I’ve been walking around feeling like I was here… but not fully living.
I couldn’t understand what was happening to me because I couldn’t name it. I thought grief was something obvious. Something dramatic. Something you recognized immediately. And because I had survived deep losses before, I honestly believed I had somehow become immune to it.
I wasn’t.
Grief doesn’t always arrive as tears.
Sometimes it arrives as numbness.
As exhaustion.
As anxiety that won’t let you sleep.
As feeling disconnected from yourself, your purpose, and even the things that once grounded you.
Instead of turning toward my spiritual practice, I turned away from it. I replaced meditation, prayer, and quiet reflection with binge watching Netflix for hours just to escape my own mind. I stayed busy. I smiled. I showed up. I told myself to “fake it until you make it.”
But grief does not heal when it’s ignored.
It waits patiently for you to acknowledge it.
Everything familiar felt like it was slipping away all at once. I kept trying to force myself back into the version of me that existed before the losses, but she was gone too.
That was the hardest truth:
sometimes healing isn’t about “getting back to normal.”
Sometimes it’s about learning to embrace a new normal.
Little by little, through prayer, honest conversations, deep friendships, and people who loved me enough to sit with me in the dark, the fog began to lift. Not overnight. Not magically. But slowly. Gently.
I’m learning that grief is not weakness.
It’s love with nowhere to go.
It’s the soul trying to make sense of change.
It’s proof that something mattered deeply.
And if you are in a season where you feel disconnected, anxious, exhausted, or unlike yourself… maybe you are not broken. Maybe you are grieving.
Be gentle with yourself.
Rest. Pray if you can. Borrow hope from the people who love you until you can hold it again on your own.
There is life after the fog.
Not the same life.
But still a meaningful, beautiful, sacred one.
