Tender Days
Feeling Numb
When even the grief goes quiet.
Written for the days the feelings won't come.
A note from my heart to yours
There is nothing today. Not sadness. Not anger. Not relief. Just a flat, gray, faraway nothing. You watch yourself go through the day from somewhere outside your own body. 🤍 Numbness is not the absence of love. 🤍 Numbness is your body protecting you. 🤍 You are not 'over it.' You are just resting. Grief is exhausting. Your nervous system can only hold so much, for so long. When it gets too heavy, it puts everything on a shelf for you. That shelf is numbness. It is mercy. 🕊️ You are not a bad mother for not crying today. 🕊️ You are not 'better.' You are still grieving, just quietly. 🕊️ The numbness will pass. It always does. 🕊️ When it lifts, the grief will return. That is not a setback. That is the cycle. Don't try to force feeling. Don't manufacture tears. Don't punish yourself for being calm. Your body is doing what it needs to do. What you can do is small acts of mothering yourself: drink water, eat one warm thing, stand outside for two minutes, take a shower. These small acts are not for emotional breakthrough. They are just for keeping you in the world. That is enough on a numb day. The love is still there. It is just sleeping under the surface, the way the earth sleeps in winter. Spring comes back. So will you.
One small thing, right now
Run warm water over your hands for 20 seconds.
You do not need to force emotion today.
Today, the numbness feels like…
Stays only with you, on this device.
You made it through today. That is enough.