There’s a certain complexity to being human, to experiencing life in all its emotional richness.
In many ways, I love being a sensitive person who romanticizes life. I can feel so deeply, even about the smallest things. But that same sensitivity can also be a heavy burden. The depth at which I feel joy is matched by the depth at which I feel pain and heartache.
Just recently, while waiting for a flight from Croatia to Spain, after spending a few beautiful days with my family, swimming in the ocean, basking in the sun, enjoying little adventures, followed by meeting up with a dear friend in the old town. We shared stories, laughter, and connection.
Then, as I sat waiting at the airport, I received a heartbreaking message: my family’s beloved dog had passed away.Tears came quickly. I tried to be present with the pain, even as I knew I was about to board a plane to continue my journey, to be with friends, to celebrate their love and wedding.
On the plane, with red eyes and a heavy heart, a kind Spanish woman who didn’t speak English offered me some snacks. I believe she sensed my sadness. There was something profoundly comforting in her silent act of empathy, a stranger reaching out with what she had.
In that moment, I gave myself permission to feel the sadness, but I also told myself: I’ll let the grief fully settle when I return home. I was heading to Spain to celebrate love, to be surrounded by joy and community. Somehow, I had to make space for both experiences.
This was a journey of emotional coexistence. I realized that grief and joy can live side by side. I could be heartbroken over my dog’s passing and still feel immense happiness celebrating my friends’ wedding, meeting new people, dancing until sunrise, soaking in love and connection.
I wasn’t suppressing my sadness, but I wasn’t diving fully into it either. I kept gently reminding myself that I would honor it later. There’s a fine line, a delicate balance in how we experience our emotions. Ideally, we want to be present with our feelings, to let them move through us as they arise. But life doesn’t always give us the perfect timing.
So I chose to acknowledge my grief, without fully entering it, because I was given the gift of presence at my friends’ wedding.
When I returned home, I created a small ceremony to honor my grief and the loss of our dog. I let myself cry, ugly, messy, necessary tears. And I still do. I’ve noticed a lingering heaviness in my body, a struggle to find my usual energy. Maybe part of that is because I didn’t fully allow myself to grieve in the moment.
If you ever find yourself in a situation where emotions rise but it doesn’t feel safe or possible to express them fully, try this: take a moment to acknowledge what you’re feeling. Let your body know you see it, you feel it, and that you’ll return to those emotions when the time is right.
This way, you’re not suppressing or running from your feelings you’re honoring them in your own way, with care and intention.
