Living Grief

I once heard the phrase "grief is love with nowhere to go." I hesitate to call what I'm feeling grief, for fear it places my feelings on the same level as those who have experienced death, a grief I can have no comprehension of.

The reality, though, is that I don't know what else to call what I'm feeling. I used to be so close to my family. Through my divorce, and parenting kids who quite frankly aren't easy to parent, I have lost those family connections. We are actively left out of social events. Yesterday was a Halloween party at my brother's house that I've gone to every year since I can remember. When I reached out to ask what time we could come, they said they're hosting friends only this year, not family.

My family used to be my best friends. We would hang out multiple times a week and get together with our kids for family dinners at least once a week. We would travel and go on vacations together. And that's all gone now.

On top of that, I have two neurodivergent teenagers who desperately need me to be a lot more present than I really am, and I recently got laid off. I work in the tech industry, and jobs are dropping like flies.

I want so badly to be self-sufficient, to be strong, to be confident. When I went through my divorce, I never thought the loss I would miss most would be my family. Things were better when I was married and pretending everything was OK. There is so much grief in recognizing that people really aren't able to be there for you when life is hard, the way you thought they would be. And I don't expect much.

It breaks my heart when my kids ask why they can't see their cousins as much. I absorb as much as I can by telling them it's my choice not to go over. I want to protect them from knowing that they aren't wanted by my family. I want to protect them from the pain I feel, as much as I can, for as long as I can.

But today is hard. It's so hard, and I just needed to say it out loud: I'm hurting.