I mask. As someone who is an intuitive empath and introvert dealing with grief, I often hide my true feelings—a lot.

It’s incredibly exhausting; however, I do it because I’m afraid of losing friends should I reveal what I’m going through.

Right now…

Hiding my feelings means concealing my deep and unbearable grief, guilt, shame, and trauma daily. It means finding the strength to avoid having a meltdown at the store, in my car, with friends, or at home because I miss my brother so much.

It means holding back tears before every meeting or phone call.

It means masking my pain with laughter and smiles.

It means not mentioning the loss after two years because I feel I need to be over it by now.

It means bottling up my grief so I don’t burden my friends or seem overdramatic or toxic. It means showering even when I feel so numb that I can’t feel my skin.

It means keeping my pain to myself because I feel unworthy of love. It means getting up and doing what I need to do every day, even when I don’t want to wake up.  It means pretending everything is alright when I’m dying inside.