The Physical Weight of Grief

I’ve reached a point where I don’t cry nearly as much when I think about my mom. I still think of her every day—it’s impossible not to when I have daily reminders of her everywhere I go. But the tears don’t flow as freely as they used to.

Instead, when grief strikes now, it has taken on a new, physical form: a boulder on my chest

It feels like a heaviness on my chest. It’s a distinct pressure, as if I’m holding a massive boulder. I can breathe fine, but there’s a constant weight. I imagine it’s the cumulative force of all those daily reminders finally ramming into my chest at once.

The Art of Avoidance

I don’t like this feeling. I try my best to avoid it—as if avoidance is even a choice. There’s no stopping it; it just happens.

It’s been months since the last time I felt this specific “weight,” and I think that’s why I’ve been keeping myself so busy lately. If I stay moving, if I stay productive, maybe I can outrun the boulder. But eventually, I have to stop, and that’s when it settles back in.

I’m sharing this because I know I’m not the only one carrying an invisible weight today. Whether it’s grief, postpartum pressure, or just the heaviness of ‘doing it all’—this is your reminder that you don’t have to outrun the pain to be a good mother or parent. It’s okay to feel the weight.

❤️

I will link a few community resources that you might find helpful.