grief – Kristine Binder

Grief is a strange, relentless companion. It comes in waves, some so powerful they knock me off my feet, while others gently lap at my ankles before receding into the background. Lately, though, the waves feel more like a storm. The world is so heavy right now, and I can feel that weight pressing down on my chest. Everywhere I turn, there seems to be another loss, another heartbreak, another reason to grieve.
Losing my dad has been a pain I can hardly describe. It’s not just the absence of his voice or his laugh—it’s the absence of his presence in my life, the anchor he provided, the memories we’ll never create. On top of that, dear friends of mine are mourning loved ones. A young person I cherished as if they were my own has left this world far too soon. Each loss feels like another stone added to the pile I carry, threatening to bury me.There are moments when it all feels so overwhelming that I want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and disappear. The thought of facing another day, carrying another burden, is sometimes too much to bear. But then there are other moments—moments when that grief fuels a fire in me to fight. To show up for my children, my students, my community. To prove that love and resilience can be louder than hate and despair.
Being my mother’s emergency contact now is a new weight I hadn’t prepared for. It’s a role that feels heavy with responsibility and the reminder of how fragile life is. Sometimes, the pressure of it all feels like it might crush me. But then I remember: forward is my pace. Even if it’s just baby steps, I keep moving. One foot in front of the other. One moment at a time.
Grief, I’ve learned, doesn’t go away. It shifts, it changes, and it continues to wash over me in unexpected moments. Some days, I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water. Other days, I find glimmers of peace when the waves recede. But within those waves, I try to find the strength to swim. To reach out to others. To remind myself that while the world feels heavy, we don’t have to carry it alone.
Peace is not always easy to find, but it is there—waiting in the moments when the waves recede, offering us the chance to catch our breath. Let’s take those baby steps together, reminding ourselves that we don’t have to face it alone. In the moments when the storm calms, we can find breath, and maybe even hope, together.
If you’re reading this and you’re feeling the weight of your own grief, know that you’re not alone. Take those baby steps, no matter how small. Cry if you need to. Rest if you can. Fight when you’re ready. And remember: forward is always a pace.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Death.
Grief.
Sadness.
Loss.
Numbness.
This week three people close to me passed away.
All were sudden and two were young…in the prime of life.
And I have not cried.
Not one single tear has escaped my eyes.
I am numb.
My heart aches for the families of these people and I want to take away their pain. But my only real feeling is guilt. I feel guilty for surviving. I feel guilty for my blessings. I feel so horribly guilty for not feeling anything else at all.
I just don’t know what to feel or how to feel it. I am so afraid to allow myself to really grieve. I am afraid that once I open that door, I will not be able to close it. I am scared that if I feel anything, it will overwhelm me. I have been in that place of all consuming grief before and almost did not make it out. I am so terrified that if I allow myself to go down that rabbit hole again, this time I will not make it out alive. And for that I feel more guilt.
So I wonder if my numbness is my soul protecting itself. I wonder if my numbness is my heart closing ranks and saying, “Not now. It’s too heavy for you to carry.” I wonder if my head got all those messages and has shut down the circuits so as not to cause a complete system failure.
Perhaps someday I will feel safe enough to feel all the feelings. But, for now, I will carry on through each day, meeting expectations and helping others with their grief while I remain numb.
For now I will be grateful for the mercy of numbness.
Peace.
#tutulady
#forwardisapace