Disclaimer: This post discusses grief and loss and may evoke strong emotions. Please read with care and prioritize your well-being.

It’s strange how grief works. I always thought that when you lose someone or something that means so much to you, the tears would come naturally, like an unstoppable wave. But for me, it’s not like that. Instead, I feel this overwhelming sadness that I can’t even express. It’s like my body shuts down the moment the emotions get too big, and I retreat into myself.

I can’t cry in front of people. It’s not that I don’t want to, but something in me just… won’t let it happen. Even when my heart feels like it’s breaking into thousand pieces, the tears stay hidden, locked away where no one can see them.

I think it’s a trauma response. I didn’t realize it at first, but now I can see that this is my way of protecting myself. Grieving in front of others feels too vulnerable, too raw. I can’t stand the thought of people watching me fall apart, so instead, I freeze. I retreat. I shut down.

It’s exhausting, though. Keeping everything bottled up like this makes me feel heavy, like I’m carrying a weight that I can’t put down. And the worst part is, it makes me feel so alone. People don’t always understand this kind of grief—the silent kind. They think if you’re not crying, you must be fine. But I’m not fine. I’m just… quiet.

I want the people around me to understand that my silence isn’t indifference, and it’s not me pushing them away. It’s just how I cope. I’m grieving in my own way, and even though I might not say much or show much, it doesn’t mean I’m not feeling everything deeply. The love and support I feel from others matters more than I can say, even if I don’t always know how to respond.

I’ve started writing things down, like this, because it helps. Somehow, putting the words on paper feels safer than saying them out loud. I don’t have to worry about anyone judging me or telling me how I “should” be grieving. Here, in these pages, I can just be.

I know I need to let people in, even if it’s just a little. Carrying this alone is too much, but it’s hard. It’s so hard to be vulnerable when all you want is to feel safe.

Maybe one day, I’ll learn to cry in front of others. Maybe one day, I’ll stop shutting down and let myself feel everything, no matter who’s watching. But for now, I’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll write, I’ll sit with my sadness, and I’ll remind myself that it’s okay to grieve in my own way.

This is my grief, my process, and my journey. And even if it feels lonely sometimes, I want those who care about me to know: your presence, even in my silence, means more to me than I can express. I’m not shutting you out—I’m just finding my way through this, one quiet moment at a time.