Stormeyes Enchanted

After a great loss, feelings do not always show up in a neat, organized line.

Wait. What am I saying?

After a great loss, feelings will NOT show up in a neat, organized way so there is no need to think they will.

They do not politely knock on the door and say, “Excuse me, today we will be processing sadness from 9 to 11, anger after lunch, and peaceful acceptance by dinner.”

No.

Grief is not that organized.

Grief kicks the door open wearing mismatched socks, carrying fourteen emotions at once, and acting like you are the one being unreasonable.

One minute you may feel numb.

The next, devastated.

Then angry.

Then strangely calm.

Then guilty because you felt calm.

Then crying because a song came on.

Then laughing at something ridiculous.

Then feeling awful because you laughed.

Then staring into space wondering how any of this can be real.

That is grief.

Messy. Unpredictable. Exhausting. Human.

And after a great loss, especially the kind that changes your entire life, you may need to let yourself feel whatever comes.

Not because every feeling is comfortable.

Not because every feeling is easy.

But because every feeling is information.

Every feeling is part of the story your heart and body are trying to tell.

The Horror and Disbelief Are Real

Some losses are so painful that the mind cannot fully take them in at first.

There can be a kind of horror that sits in your body.

A disbelief that feels almost physical.

You may think, This cannot be real.

You may replay the moment you found out.

You may remember the phone call, the knock, the words, the room, the floor, the sound of your own breathing. You may remember the tv playing in the background, how the weather felt that day, or the way the world suddenly felt wrong.

Shock has a way of freezing time.

And even long after the first days, disbelief can still come back.

You can know what happened and still have moments where your brain says, No. This cannot be my life.

That does not mean you are weak.

It does not mean you are stuck.

It means your heart is trying to understand something that never should have had to happen.

Numbness Counts Too

Sometimes people worry because they are not crying enough.

They think, What is wrong with me? Why am I just sitting here? Why do I feel nothing?

But numbness is not failure.

Sometimes numbness is protection.

Sometimes your mind and body know the full weight of the loss is too much to carry all at once, so they give you a little emotional distance.

It may feel strange.

It may feel cold.

It may make you question yourself.

But numbness is often your nervous system saying, “We are going to survive this one breath at a time.”

You do not have to force tears to prove love.

You do not have to perform grief so other people understand it.

Your love is not measured by how visibly broken you look.

Anger Is Not Always Pretty, But It Is Honest

Anger can be one of the scariest grief emotions because it does not always feel “acceptable.”

People may be comfortable with quiet tears, but anger makes them nervous.

Anger at what happened.

Anger at the person who died.

Anger at doctors, family members, friends, systems, strangers, God, yourself, the whole entire planet and possibly one very specific lamp in your living room that has done nothing wrong.

Grief anger does not always make logical sense.

But it often points to pain.

It says, “This mattered.”

It says, “Something feels unfair.”

It says, “I was not ready.”

It says, “I did not get a choice.”

Anger does not make you bad.

It makes you wounded.

The important thing is not pretending anger is not there. The important thing is finding safe ways to let it move through you without letting it destroy you and everyone else in a ten-foot radius.

Which, yes, is annoying. Emotional regulation really does expect a lot from us, so rude. 🙄

Sadness May Come in Waves

Sadness after loss can feel endless.

It can come quietly, like a heaviness in your chest.

Or suddenly, like a wave that knocks you flat.

It can show up in the grocery store.

In the car.

During a family dinner.

While folding laundry.

When you see their favorite candy, hear their name, smell something familiar, see the hat they used to wear, or realize you have something to tell them and cannot.

Sadness is not something you “get over.”

It is something you learn to carry differently over time.

Some days it may feel gentle.

Other days it may feel impossible.

Both are real.

Both are allowed.

You do not have to apologize for missing someone who mattered.

Guilt Can Be Loud

Guilt is one of grief’s most exhausting roommates.

It moves in without permission and starts rearranging everything.

You may feel guilty for what you did.

What you did not do.

What you said.

What you did not say.

The last conversation.

The missed call.

The argument.

The boundary.

The choice.

The last message.

The thing you could not have known but still punish yourself for not knowing.

And then, as if that were not enough, guilt may also show up when you start having okay moments.

You feel guilty for laughing.

Guilty for eating.

Guilty for sleeping.

Guilty for enjoying the sunshine.

Guilty for wanting life to feel lighter.

But guilt is not always telling the truth.

Sometimes guilt is grief looking for control.

It says, “If I can blame myself, then maybe this horrible thing makes sense.”

But some losses do not make sense.

Some pain cannot be solved by self-punishment. Believe me.

And punishing yourself will not prove your love.

It will only wound the person who is still here trying to survive.

Joy Is Allowed Too

This may be one of the hardest parts to accept.

Joy after loss can feel confusing.

Offensive. Overwhelming. Even nauseating.

You may laugh and immediately feel like you did something wrong.

You may enjoy a good day and wonder if that means you are forgetting.

You may feel peace for a few minutes and panic because peace feels too far away from grief.

But joy is not betrayal.

Joy does not cancel love.

Joy does not erase grief.

Joy does not mean you are “over it.”

Joy is a breath.

A small light.

A reminder that your heart is still alive, even though it has been broken.

After great loss, joy may look different.

It may come with tears.

It may be softer.

It may feel fragile.

It may sit right beside sorrow.

But it still counts.

You are allowed to smile.

You are allowed to laugh.

You are allowed to enjoy the flower, the song, the coffee, the child’s joke, the sunset, the silly memory, the warm breeze, the tiny moment of goodness.

Your person does not become less loved because you felt joy.

Your grief does not become less real because you had one good moment.

Peace May Feel Strange at First

Sometimes peace can be uncomfortable when you have lived in survival mode.

After great loss, your body may become used to bracing.

Waiting.

Scanning.

Preparing for the next awful thing.

So when a quiet moment comes, it may not feel peaceful right away.

It may feel suspicious.

Like, Why is it calm? What is coming next?

But peace is not something you have to reject just because pain has been part of your story.

Peace can be a gift.

Not a replacement.

Not a denial.

Not a sign that everything is fine.

Just a place to rest for a moment.

And after loss, rest matters.

You Do Not Have to Pick One Feeling

One of the hardest lessons in grief is learning that opposite emotions can exist at the same time.

You can be grateful and devastated.

Hopeful and heartbroken.

Angry and loving.

Peaceful and sad.

Joyful and missing someone so much it physically hurts.

You can laugh with your family and still ache because someone is missing from the room.

You can celebrate a milestone and still cry in the bathroom.

You can thank God for what remains and still grieve what was taken.

Human hearts are complicated.

They are allowed to be.

You do not have to choose one emotion and make the others leave.

You can let them all tell the truth.

Feelings Need Compassion, Not Judgment

After loss, it is easy to start judging yourself.

Why am I still crying?
Why am I not crying?
Why am I angry?
Why did I laugh?
Why can’t I be stronger?
Why am I okay today?
Why am I falling apart again?

But grief does not need more judgment.

It needs compassion.

You are not a machine.

You are a person who loved deeply and lost deeply.

Of course your emotions are complicated.

Of course some days make no sense.

Of course your body reacts.

Of course your heart does not know how to neatly organize the impossible.

Instead of asking, “What is wrong with me?” maybe we can begin asking, “What does this feeling need from me?”

Does the horror need grounding?

Does the sadness need tears?

Does the anger need a safe place to be spoken?

Does the guilt need truth?

Does the numbness need patience?

Does the joy need permission?

Does the peace need to be welcomed instead of feared?

That is not weakness.

That is healing.

Let It Move Through You

Feelings are meant to move.

Not all at once.

Not on anyone else’s timeline.

But little by little.

When we push every feeling down, it does not disappear. It waits. It leaks out sideways. It shows up as exhaustion, irritability, anxiety, numbness, resentment, or that sudden urge to reorganize a closet at midnight like the towels personally offended us. (You do this too, right?!)

Again, grief is weird.

Letting yourself feel does not mean letting emotions control your whole life.

It means giving them safe space.

Cry.

Pray.

Journal.

Walk.

Sit outside.

Talk to someone safe.

Listen to music.

Make art.

Scream into a pillow if needed.

Take a shower.

Light a candle.

Say their name.

Laugh when laughter comes.

Rest when peace comes.

Ask for help when the feelings are too heavy to carry alone.

Feeling does not mean falling apart forever.

Sometimes feeling is how we slowly stop falling apart.

All of It Belongs

The horror belongs.

The disbelief belongs.

The grief belongs.

The anger belongs.

The numbness belongs.

The guilt belongs.

The peace belongs.

The laughter belongs.

The joy belongs.

Not because all of it feels good.

But because all of it is part of being human after loss.

You do not have to make grief pretty.

You do not have to make it convenient.

You do not have to make it understandable to everyone around you.

You only have to keep being honest enough to say, “This is what I am feeling today.”

And maybe tomorrow will be different.

That is okay too.

Grief changes shape.

So do we.

Closing Reflection

Maybe today, you do not need to fix every feeling.

Maybe you only need to stop fighting yourself for having them.

If you are horrified, breathe gently.

If you are in disbelief, let yourself admit it still feels unreal.

If you are grieving, let the tears come.

If you are angry, find a safe place to tell the truth.

If you are numb, be patient with your heart.

If you are guilty, ask whether guilt is telling the truth or simply trying to make sense of the pain.

If you are peaceful, receive the rest.

If you are joyful, let the light in. Be light for others!

All of it matters.

All of it belongs.

And none of it means you are grieving wrong.

You are not failing because your emotions are messy.

You are living through something hard.

So let yourself feel what you need to feel today.

Not forever.

Not perfectly.

Just honestly.

One breath.

One moment.

One feeling at a time.

Love and Light

~Mandy