TO FEEL OR NOT TO FEEL

TO FEEL OR NOT TO FEEL
When Loss Makes the Heart Question Everything
A Personal Story by Elizabeth Blake-Thomas

​I don’t want to feel love again.

Yes, this is extreme. But it is how I feel. I am all for expressing true feelings, and this is how I feel right now, in this moment. I do not want to go through the deep love I once felt only to have it torn away and taken from me. That is the truth of it. That is what grief and loss do to you.

Why do I keep repeating the word “feel”? It is because, as a society, we are rarely given the time to truly acknowledge our emotions. The first thing we feel is not always honest, or we shove it under the carpet. It takes time to recognize our real feelings. Speaking them aloud and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable is the next step, and that can be hard. Friends, family, outsiders often want to know that our emotions can be neatly packaged. It makes them feel balanced and safe. So sometimes we share how we are feeling, but within limits, within what feels socially acceptable.

“How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”
“Yeah, great.”

How often do we actually have that conversation each day? What would happen if we spoke our truth about how we feel? I also have people who try to convince me that my feelings are not real.

“I don’t want to love again.”
“You feel that way now, but you won’t in the future.”
“I’m sure you don’t mean that.”
“It’ll be good for you to get another dog.”

When someone is vulnerable and shares their heart, do we sit quietly and listen or do we try to change their mind?

Right now, I am writing a lot of children’s books about grief, love, loss, and neurodivergency. One of the books I have just finished is called The Suitcase, the Rucksack, and the Purse. It is a story inspired by how I saw myself during one of my deepest moments of grief. I am learning to sit with my feelings. I lost my best friend and soulmate, my four-legged white Maltese. The shock of her sudden passing was enormous, but it was the depth of that loss that left me unmoored, something I had never felt before.

I want to share this with you before it is published because it feels right. I hope it helps someone feel unafraid to share, to show, and to acknowledge how they are feeling. Then to take the next step: to explore why they feel that way, what it means, and finally, to be okay with the answer even if it changes. There is no right or wrong.

Once upon a time, there was a lady who carried a suitcase, a rucksack, and a purse. She was not from the town, yet every day she came and sat on the park bench. Her hair was long, her shoulders heavy, and her eyes sad.

She would talk to the butterflies, pet the dogs, and smile at the children running past. She would smell the roses and sit on a blanket, close her eyes, and feel the warmth of the sun on her face.

One sunny day, a little girl stood at the top of the slide and noticed the lady. She slid down and walked over. The lady looked up and smiled. The little girl sat down next to her and said nothing, simply sitting in the shared silence.

​“Would you like to hear a story?” the lady asked.
“Yes, please,” the girl replied eagerly.
“Once upon a time, there was a young girl.”
“Like me,” the little girl interrupted.
“Maybe. She would wear hats and long, floaty dresses, and she did not have a care in the world. She would come to the park with her little fluffy white dog, her best friend. They did everything together: chased butterflies, played with other dogs, and watched the children run past. They would sit among the roses and smell them and have picnics on the blanket.”

She paused.

“They would sit on this very park bench together.”
Silence fell. The little girl looked up at the lady.
“You have a lot of bags. What is inside them?”
“Feelings, thoughts, memories, love, hurt, sadness, anger, confusion, my tears, my smiles.”
“That is a lot to carry,” whispered the girl softly.
“Is it heavy?” she asked.
“Some days it is heavier than others,” sighed the lady.
“What would happen if you unpacked the bags?” asked the girl.
“I am scared to. So I choose to carry them. Sometimes people offer to help, and other days I carry them alone.”
“I am not very strong, so I do not think I can help you,” said the little girl, concerned.
“You have helped me just by sitting here with me while I rest. You listened and shared this moment with me.”

The little girl reached for the lady’s hand. She held her fingers, clasped her thumb, and smiled, looking deep into her blue eyes.

“I will watch your bags for a moment if you want to go on the swing.”

The lady stood, leaving her bags behind. She walked to the swing, took a deep breath, let her shoulders fall, and for a few moments, let it all go. The swing lifted her high into the sky, higher and higher, her bags far below. She felt like she was flying. In that moment, she was as light as air. Looking down, she saw not her bags, but her little white dog, smiling up at her, full of love.

THE END

If it is difficult to explain how you feel, creative tools can help clarify things. Painting, drawing, writing, journaling, or simply sitting with your thoughts without worrying about what others think can make your feelings more tangible. Be brave enough to sit with them. It is important not to let the body absorb unresolved emotions, because you will only have to face them later. ∎