What I Haven’t Said Out Loud Yet
What I Haven’t Said Out Loud Yet
The moment everything shifted. I don’t know if there was one exact moment. Honestly, I wish I could point to a day, a sentence, something clear and defined but it wasn’t like that. It was quieter and subtle at first and easy to dismiss if I wanted to.
Small things that didn’t feel small once I let myself really see them and if I’m being honest, I think part of me didn’t want to see it because seeing it meant acknowledging something I wasn’t ready to hold. That things were changing and that the roles I had known my whole life were no longer steady.
That the person who had always been “the strong one” in my world was beginning to need something different, something more. This was not just from me, but from everyone. We all rallied regardless of her individual relationships, we all came together and worked as a team.
I felt it before I could name it. In my body, in my chest and in that quiet tension that shows up when your heart knows something your mind is still trying to avoid. There was a moment, maybe not obvious to anyone else, but I remember feeling it.
That shift.
Where I stopped just being the daughter and started becoming the one who notices, who anticipates, who carries. I don’t think I said anything out loud because I don’t think I even fully let myself think it. However, something inside of me whispered, “this is different now” and I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t ready for the weight of that realization and I wasn’t ready for what it might mean long-term. In all honesty, I wasn’t ready to feel like I needed to be stronger than I felt and if I’m really honest, there was grief in that moment. It was not loud grief and not the kind that stops everything but a quiet kind.
The kind that sits beside you and the kind that says, “Hold on… something is changing” and at the same time, there was love. A deep, instinctive kind of love that doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It just shows up and it says, “If they need you, you will be there.”
So now I find myself holding both. The love that makes me want to show up fully and the grief that reminds me why this is so hard. I don’t have this figured out and I don’t have a perfect way to walk through it but I am here.
Learning how to notice without panicking and learning how to help without taking over. Also, Learning how to sit in moments that feel both sacred and heavy. Maybe that is enough for right now.
What I’m Learning
I’m learning that acknowledging the shift does not make it worse and avoiding it doesn’t protect me. It just delays the moment I have to feel it and I am learning that I can feel unready and still be willing. I guess both can exist.
I want to leave you with something that has helped others walking this same road. As a therapist, one book I return to again and again with clients is The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk. It can be heavy . I always recommend reading slowly and with support but it may help you understand why grief lives in your body, not just your mind.
For Anyone Walking This Too
If you have felt that quiet shift and if you have noticed things changing and didn’t quite know what to do with it, remember, you are not behind. Also, you are not doing it wrong and you are not alone. This is one of the most tender transitions we walk through and it makes sense that your heart would feel it deeply.
Helpful Resource:
I keep a list of books and resources I have personally found meaningful for faith, grief, parenting, boundaries, and hard seasons here: Helpful Resources I Love.
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