I’ve been thinking a lot and processing a lot of my own grief. While doing that, I’ve come to sense that there’s a certain grief that doesn’t come with funerals or farewells. It comes when someone you once called “friend” starts to feel like a stranger, or worse, like your quietest enemy. It comes when you have to grieve a mother that still lives because they never truly lived up to that title. It comes when you’ve been disappointed one too many times to even feel it anymore.

This type of grief doesn’t let you go easily, nor does it let you close enough to grasp it when you need to feel it. It comes for you. Creeps into the forefront of your mind when you least expect it. Overhauls everything in the smallest of moments. Begs you to feel when feeling is the last thing you want to do.

This is the grief that doesn’t scream… it lingers. It hums in the background of laughter, sits quietly in the empty chair you swore they’d never abandon, and it asks one question louder than any other:

“How long did I lie to myself just to keep them close?”

I’ve had friends who promised they’d show up… and didn’t. Not when it counted. Not when it was promised. I gave so much of myself, time, energy, fierce loyalty, and in return, I got silence, inconsistency, and the slow ache of being forgotten. I don’t think anyone has truly been there in the way that I was for them. You know, like a balanced flow of energy.

I always gave far more than I ever should’ve…

I never forget the weight of words. Sometimes it seems to them… words just sway in the wind… like a loose thread waiting to be cut.

I sit here now, wondering why I always held the scissors but never allowed myself to snip the thread. Why did I keep allowing this to happen? I accepted it from family, suppose to be friends, coworkers… I began to question if I just take things too seriously- maybe the weightlessness of words was supposed to be “flighty”.

Why?

So what’s the blind spot?
Why did I keep letting this happen?

It wasn’t that I didn’t see the red flags. Was I conditioned to believe that I didn’t deserve better? Was I, in fact, programmed to believe that this is just how people are? Is there something inside of me that thinks their mistreatment was okay?

I know gave people excuses just because they had history with me. I have called it everything- but- what it truly is. I’ve said, oh its all a part of my lessons to learn… that they were just playing their part. “No, no… really they are just helping me.” Let’s be honest here though. That is a terrible habit of spiritual bypassing. So is all the excuses I made for them. They didn’t know any better. They have trauma of their own and are acting from it. They can’t “see” what I can see. They are having a bad day or a hard time right now. It’s a part of their lessons in this life…

I called it grace, but really, was it just fear.
Fear of letting go. Fear of speaking up for myself. Fear of sharing the depths of me. Fear of being alone.
Fear that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t worthy of more.

BUT I AM…

I know now that presence is not the same as support. That closeness doesn’t always mean care. That promises without action are just decorated lies.

I know now that I am not hard to love, not at all. I was just surrounded by people who didn’t know how.

A “friend” that use to try to pump my mind full of insecurities told me once that my tribe would show up… She wasn’t right about a lot of things, but I do think she was right about that. My tribe… will show up. I will never again accept anything less.

Not shitty conversations, not mistreatment, not exhausting energy, or jealousy, nor hypocrites that can’t keep their word.

So this is me reclaiming my space.
Not bitter.
Not vengeful.
Just done.

Done pretending their silence didn’t hurt.
Done dimming my truth to keep the peace.
Done calling betrayal “miscommunication.”

---

𝓘 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓵 𝓾𝓹 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷.

I want to sit at the table with souls who speak truth behind my back and to my face. I want people in my life who keep their promises without reminders. I want friends who don’t compete with me, because they see me as part of their rising, not their threat.

---

To anyone who’s felt this same sting:
You’re not alone.
You’re not dramatic.
You’re not asking for too much.
You’re just finally seeing clearly too.

And once your eyes are open,
there is no going back to blindness.

-Mother of Mourning-