The Weight of Unspoken Loss

Came out of therapy and tears are still rolling down my cheeks. Sessions like today are hard to come out of. I feel dizzy, as if I’ve unloaded so much of the past’s burdens that my head is empty and disoriented—like it’s not used to not carrying so much regret, pain, and confusion. Although disoriented, I also feel clarity. Clarity on how much unresolved feelings, emotions, and broken relationships—whether known or unknowingly—occupy such a vast space in day-to-day life. They sit in the dark, brooding, until that darkness becomes the norm. Heavy becomes the norm.

I am 40 years old now, and today I realize how even the slightest disagreement can turn into a dark memory, quietly molding itself into a root deep within the fragile space called self-love.

I constantly go back to being a child—fragile, messy, unsullied, unaccepting, angry, unapologetically just. How much it hurts to be her, to live in her world, seeing so much ugliness, so much innocence being stripped away. Maturity barges in too early, kicking that box with toys under the bed that I was so scared to look at. What good does it do to look under the bed now, only to find there was no box there for a long time? How wasteful to wish, to hope, to wait.

I’ve lost so many friends along the way. What they call part of normalcy, part of growing up, I call injustice. There was this girl when I was 8. We went to the same school, and she was my best friend. Married off too early before I could say goodbye. It has been too long. I have lived with the pain of losing her so early in my life, even though she has moved on—aged, mothering, growing, wrinkling. In my memory, though, she remains a tiny, chubby girl with heavy bones and black-as-night smooth hair. Laughter, joy, and the early exploration of love.

We both dreamed of getting married and having families, but while she was pushed into it too early, I didn’t experience it until my late 30s. She used to wear her mama’s shiny heels, and I’d wear her old veil. We loved pretending to be brides. What I wouldn’t give to be kids with her again.

Note: These series of stories are part of my new project "University of Self", tribute to my life on this earth for 40 years.