Happy Birthday Baby

First birthday since his death. I miss him so so much.

I’m tired.

Not just the kind of tired that sleep can fix but soul tired. A weariness that sits in my bones and refuses to lift. Since my husband passed, everything feels heavier. Even breathing sometimes feels like effort.

Grief is not linear. People say that, and I believed it in theory. But living it is something else entirely. One moment I think I’m okay, and the next I feel like I’m drowning in a wave I didn’t see coming. I don’t cry every day anymore, but I also don’t truly feel joy either. I’m stuck in this numb, gray in-between. And it’s exhausting.

The motivation I used to have for life, for work, for things that used to excite me it’s slipping away. I feel like I’m watching the world go on without me, and I don’t know how to catch up. Or if I even want to.

I miss him. I miss the sound of his voice, the way he’d hold my hand when he knew I was overwhelmed, the way he made everything feel safe even the chaos. Now everything feels… uncertain. Raw. Like I’m walking around with a cracked-open heart that hasn’t found a way to heal.

I don’t share this looking for pity. I share it because maybe someone else out there is feeling the same. Maybe you’re grieving too a person, a relationship, a version of life that’s gone. And maybe you also feel like you’re losing yourself in the process.

If that’s you: I see you. I don’t have answers. I barely have energy. But I know that writing these words, even through tears, is something. And maybe that “something” is enough for today.

Tomorrow is not promised. But neither is this pain permanent.

One breath. One moment. One small step at a time.