Feeling Everything and Nothing at the Same Time in Grief

By Amber Chapman

Last edited October 13, 2026

This Week's Theme: The In Between

I sat down to write you a "real" newsletter this week. Something helpful. Something with structure.

I couldn't do it.

I just don't have it.

So instead, here's the truth: I feel everything and nothing at the same time. And I don't know how to explain that to anyone who hasn't been here.

The Reality Check: The Paradox No One Warns You About

Grief is supposed to be one thing. Sadness. Tears. Missing them.

But this, this is something else.

It's laughing or crying in one moment, and then feeling completely hollow ten minutes later. It's the wave that knocks me sideways, followed by hours of flat nothing. It's being unable to feel the feelings I know are in there somewhere.

People ask how I'm doing and I don't know how to answer because the truth is: I don't know. I'm both okay and not okay, but I'm also not actively falling apart. I'm just... here. I feel muted even. Like someone turned the volume down on my life.

WHAT I'M LEARNING ABOUT THE NUMBNESS

The numbness isn't a failure to grieve. It's protection.

My nervous system can only hold so much. Sometimes the loss is too big to process, so my brain does me a favor — it turns down the dial just enough to let me keep breathing.

Right now, my numbness looks like:

• Going through motions without feeling them
• Forgetting Dad's gone, then remembering again
• Not crying when you "should"
• Feeling oddly fine and wondering what's wrong with me

It doesn't mean I don't love him. It doesn't mean I'm broken. It means my body is doing what it needs to do to survive this.

The feelings are still there and they'll come when I'm ready or when I'm not.

WHAT I'M LEARNING ABOUT THE EVERYTHING

And then there are the waves.

Right now, they are small. They don't come when I expect them - not at the memorial or at the "appropriate" moments. They come when I see his slippers. When an Otis Redding or Al Green song plays. When I reach for my phone to call him.

The everything is exhausting because I can't predict it or control it which means I can't prepare for it.

At the end of the day, there's no wrong way to do this.

All we can do is take everything one day (and sometimes, one hour) at a time.

Final Thought

That's it for this week. I'm still here. Still not okay, but still showing up anyway.

Maybe that's enough for now. Maybe showing up is the whole thing.