Hey user5152
Thanks for taking the time to write and my sincere condolences for the loss of your loved ones. It definitely feels like a quiet cry under all the noise of expectations. The emptiness you described… not just about the job or time passing, but the way burnout strips colour from everything and when you add grief on top of that, it’s like the silence inside becomes deafening.
The people you lost, they probably once filled those quiet spaces with laughter, small habits, maybe just presence. Losing them leaves a gap that nothing quite fits into. But grief doesn’t have to mean shutting down or being solemn all the time. Sometimes remembering the silly, joyful, or tender moments with them, even out loud, can soften that ache. It’s a way of saying, thank you for what you gave me, and in that gratitude, a little warmth sneaks back in.
You also mentioned how hard it is to connect with your mum, introvert versus extrovert, two very different worlds. But connection isn’t about matching energy levels; it’s about hearts meeting somewhere real. Maybe some steps to make connection work, for you to consider if you don’t mind my offerings.
- Notice your emotion if you are glad, sad, mad, or scared.
- Ask what your mind is saying about it, “am I feeling judged, or am I judging myself?”
- Let yourself name it gently when you talk to her, even if it’s just “I miss feeling close to you.”
- And together, try to talk about those unspoken rules or expectations, not to solve anything, but to understand what’s sitting between you.
The way you describe being tired of everyone telling you what to do, that’s another layer of burnout talking. When you’ve given for years, and suddenly nothing gives back, it’s normal to want to retreat. What your body and heart might be asking for isn’t more doing, but more being… seen, held and allowed to rest.
For now, maybe the goal isn’t to find meaning but to allow moments of life to find you again. A memory, song or one small act of care and if this emptiness ever grows heavier or starts to feel unsafe, please feel free to write it here. Where grief, rest, and your quiet longing for connection can breathe a little, until that spark begins to flicker again.