The world continues, oblivious.
In the territory of invisible loss, no one sees the pieces of your heart, barely held together, the exhaustion seeping into your very bones just from existing.
Invisible losses reside in the spaces between words, the eroding relationship, in the unspoken goodbyes, in the futures that will never be.
Friends, families — so near, yet separated by a chasm of understanding. They don’t see your grief; because it doesn’t fit into the neat boxes they recognize. ‘
There is no death to mourn, no shared casseroles and condolences. There is no visible wound to bind, and no clear injury to mend. You have lost the love of your life — yet palpable only to you.
Their well-meaning words, practical questions, and attempted consolations land like stones, each one a blow to an already bruised heart.
Hell.
They wouldn’t have asked “What’s next?” if a loved one had died, not merely changed.
They wouldn’t have offered such shallow platitudes if you’d lost a limb, not merely a dream.
You’re limping through life, one breath at a time, while they urge you to run, to plan, to envision a future that feels impossibly distant.
The worst part? You don’t even have the right to be angry.
Because your friends all meant well.
Because there is no one to blame but the loss itself.
So your anger flickers, and then you extinguish it, knowing even your rage would not be legitimate in the world’s eyes.
The silent storm rages and engulfs, engulfs, and then rages.
Invisible loss. The deadliest, loneliest grief imaginable.
They thought you were waving when you were drowning.
How can you explain a pain they can’t feel? How can you justify a grief they cannot see?
The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.
You paste on a smile and murmur something about taking things one day at a time.
The phone call ends, but the weight remains — a crushing reminder of the inescapable truth: you are utterly alone in this invisible grief, forever tied to a sorrow the world refuses to acknowledge.
And you, trapped in the silent wreckage, must find a way to stay alive.
But you will.
This might just have to be a solitary task.
You must relinquish the compulsion to explain, to justify, to make them understand.
Fiercely protect your healing wounds from the scratch of ‘well-meaning’, yet clumsy sympathy.
As long as you accept that this will be a journey of one, you can find peace.
And in that peace is a crack, and in that crack you can stay alive and maybe slowly heal.
I trust that you can handle this.
Channel the same fierce love you had for what you’ve lost into — staying alive.
If you had the courage to love so deeply, to dream so vividly, you have what it takes to survive the burn of losing it.
This is the shadow side of a life fully lived, the price of daring to love.
And your soul will find a way to pay it, to rise again, and most importantly, to love and dream again.
🪡
