“Grief isn’t simple or straightforward. Significant losses, particularly traumatic ones, stick with you and start to become a part of who you are. Unresolved grief can end up feeling like a weight permanently strapped to your back. You can function with it there, sure, but eventually it takes its toll on you and slowly starts draining you piece by piece. When we lose someone in a traumatic way, our brain processes the loss differently than normal memories.
Neuroscience tells us that trauma stimulates the amygdala, which is the area of our brain that is responsible for fear responses. The extra activity in this part of the brain interferes with the brain’s processing of that traumatic event, which is why traumatic losses can feel constantly present, rather than the brain accepting that they’ve happened in the past. This causes what we call ‘intrusive memories’ or flashbacks, where grief is experienced just as vividly and as raw as when it first happened, making it feel like the loss is happening currently, no matter how much time has actually passed.
Continually carrying this unresolved grief can keep triggering the body’s stress response, making it stay active, releasing cortisol and adrenaline into our systems regularly. Prolonged exposure to these stress hormones can lead to chronic fatigue, decreased cognitive function, weakened immunity, depression, and anxiety. Basically, grief will physically and emotionally wear you down over time because your body and brain are stuck in a state of constant hyper-vigilance.
It’s important to understand that healing doesn’t mean completely erasing or forgetting a loss. From a psychological perspective, attempting to erase painful memories isn’t realistic or even healthy. Blocking out these memories can cause more issues over time, just to still have to deal with them down the line. Healing is about understanding how to accept the grief so it becomes a logical, meaningful part of our life story. When you integrate loss in a healthy way, it becomes less disruptive to your nervous system.”
Yeah…a lot, right?
I lean back in my chair, my eyes drifting to the ceiling. How do you carry something that keeps getting heavier? At what point do you say, I can’t even move anymore? Isabel took a piece of me when she died, and I haven’t felt okay since. I need someone to go in and manually fix my brain, so I stop reliving losing her over and over again. I want to stop living in fear of that happening with someone else I love, and shutting those emotions off, so I can’t feel that pain ever again.
I thought that giving all my struggles to God meant he would take them away, not still force me to hold onto them. Sure, I’ve stopped the obvious self-destructive behaviors—drinking until I couldn’t feel, doing a line of coke to feel this fabricated happiness to fill the void of feeling nothing anymore, and hooking up just to have the need met of some kind of physical connection without having to experience real intimacy…but none of those external changes have erased the guilt, the pain, or the ache that feels permanent.
I sigh, flipping the page of my textbook and trying to refocus on my notes when my attention is pulled away yet again as I feel this urge to look up. I don’t understand why as I look around until—
I seeher.
It’s one of the girls we almost ran into while she was with her friends. The girl who made me look like a complete idiot and creep for staring as I walked past. The one I haven’t been able to erase the image of in my head since…but she’s almost unrecognizable today. Although I couldn’t forget that face if I wanted to. It’s not that she’s any less beautiful right now—I think that would be nearly impossible—it’s this cloud around her that I see instantly…even if nobody else does.
She walks in slowly, clearly exhausted. It’s not just her tired eyes or slumped shoulders; it’s something deeper. It’s the type of exhaustion that’s beyond physical. I recognize it immediately. It’s unmistakable, because I know that feeling. I’ve lived with that feeling for long enough to be able to read it on someone else.
She finds an empty table not far from mine and quietly sits down, pulling out some books and a laptop. She puts in a pair of headphones and adjusts her hoodie, pulling it low over her face.
I watch her for a second longer, my curiosity about her tugging at me. I know I should look away, get back to studying, but there’s something about her presence that draws me in, which sounds crazy. I don’t even know her. I don’t know her name or anything about her. She’s just another stranger, another random face around campus.
I force my eyes back down to my textbook, determined to get a few productive studying hours in, but when I glance up a while later again, her head is resting on her arms, clearly asleep. This ache hits my chest. She looks so vulnerable, so fragile, so…alone. I want to check on her, but that’s weird, right? And so not my place to do, so I just leave her be. I get as much work done as I can, continuing to glance up at her every so often. She never moves. If I didn’t see the slight rise and fall of her body when I looked close enough, I would almost think she was dead. I wonder if part of that apparent tiredness is from coping with some substance, the same way that I used to. I don’t know why that thought pains me for her.
You literally don’t know this girl, Sebastian. What’s gotten into you? You’ve never cared about a girl’s well-being a day in your life…and she’s a complete stranger.
Once I pack up all my stuff and go to head out, I still can’t quiet that pull to go check on her. I hesitate for a second before making my way over. As I reach her table, I pause, taking in the peaceful but heavy expression on her face. I gently nudge her shoulder, and she jolts awake, a little disoriented. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, until they find mine, confusion swimming in those beautiful green—slightly dilated—eyes. I wonder if that’s from the exhaustion or something she’s recently taken.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently, not wanting to bother her too much. I just couldn’t walk out of here without making sure she was okay.
She looks back at me with a blank expression at first, and nowI’mthe one who giveshera confused look, still waiting for her to answer.
“Did you say something?” she asks softly, still blinking away the sleep.
I offer a small smile, trying to appear casual and not creepy. “I asked if you were okay. You’ve been out cold over here for a while.”
She looks slightly defensive, her brows pulling together in suspicion. “Um, yeah? Were you watching me sleep or something?”
I laugh a little, amused at her bluntness. “No. I was in here when you came in, so I saw you sit down over here, then at some point, I guess you fell asleep, and when I was getting up to leave, I saw you were still asleep, so I thought I should maybe check on you.”
She stares up at me, then really stares, as if trying to figure something out about me. I use the moment to fully take her in, how striking she is, even in this slightly disheveled state. Something about her makes it hard for me to look away.
“You know,” I continue lightly, trying to break whatever trance we’re both suddenly caught in, “since most people just come here to study or work and typically sleep back in their dorms.”
She snaps out of her daze,glaring at me now. “Funny. I just had a long night, that’s all.”
She glances around, looking for something. “Um, what time is it?”
I quickly pull out my phone, checking the time and telling her. She jolts up from her seat, grabbing her stuff in a chaotic rush. I would offer my help, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s a lot going on here. It’s almost endearing, watching her all flustered and scattered like this. It’s so different from the guarded expression she had just moments ago.
“Crap. I’m so late for my class.” She swings her bag over her shoulder and starts to walk away before abruptly turning back around, meeting my gaze again with a hesitant smile. “Hey! What’s your name?”
“Bash,” I tell her.
She pauses. “What kind of name is Bash?”
