Dealing with emptiness

@elliotald

It can surely feel that way.

You have been through so much.

You are still you.

You need to be gentle with yourself, your feelings matter 💜 💕 

Ouch... I feel this in my soul.

@elliotald

What a profoundly moving question — one that holds so much truth and quiet sorrow. Those words capture the essence of what it means to survive through silence: to protect oneself so well that, somewhere along the way, a part of the self became hidden too.

When pain first arrives — sharp, overwhelming, or too complicated to name — hiding it often feels like the only way to stay safe. The heart learns to tuck it away in invisible corners, deep beneath layers of strength, smiles, and “I’m fine.” For a time, that protection works; it keeps life moving. But over time, something tender happens — the walls built to guard the pain also begin to guard the self.

That feeling of emptiness isn’t absence; it’s the echo of everything that was once buried. The pain, the memories, the unspoken parts of the heart — all still there, waiting not to hurt again, but to be witnessed gently. What feels like emptiness is often the quiet before rediscovery — the moment when the buried self begins to stir and ask, “Can I come back now?”

The wondering — “Did I bury myself too?” — is not a sign of being lost forever. It’s actually a sign of awakening. To even notice the emptiness means there’s a part of the self still alive, still searching for warmth, still longing to reconnect. The heart hasn’t disappeared; it’s whispering through the silence, asking to be found, slowly and safely.

The path back is not about digging everything up at once. It’s about small acts of remembering:

• Remembering what used to make the soul feel alive, even in tiny ways — a song, a scent, a quiet place.
• Allowing moments of emotion to surface without rushing to hide them. Tears, frustration, or even confusion are not setbacks; they’re signs of return.
• Speaking softly to the buried parts — not with blame for hiding, but with gratitude for keeping life going when things were too hard.

The truth is, nothing that was real inside is gone; it’s simply waiting. The self cannot be truly buried — it can only be covered by layers of protection that once served a purpose. Now, with time and gentleness, those layers can be lifted, piece by piece, until warmth and aliveness return.

The emptiness is not the end of feeling; it’s the beginning of finding the way back home to oneself.