Sitting With Emptiness
June 01, 2025
Lately I’ve been sitting with something I usually try to avoid:
That deep, quiet feeling of emptiness.
It’s not loud. It doesn’t scream or demand anything from me.
It’s just there — like a still fog resting over everything.
Not sadness exactly, not numbness either.
Just a hollow kind of space inside that whispers, “Something’s missing.”
And I’ve noticed how quickly I try to fill it.
With noise.
With tasks.
With people.
With food.
With scrolling.
With stories in my head about what’s wrong with me or what I need to fix.
But today, I didn’t try to fill it.
I let it be there.
🌫️ A Space That’s Always Been There
The truth is — this emptiness has always lived inside me.
It comes from all the places love didn’t reach.
From all the times I needed someone and no one came.
From all the moments I swallowed my needs just to keep the peace.
From all the pretending that I was okay when I wasn’t.
And in that emptiness, I sometimes feel lonely.
Not just alone, but lonely in the truest sense — like no one really sees me.
🪞 The Gift of Not Turning Away
But there’s also something tender here.
Because when I stop running from the emptiness, I can actually hear what it’s saying.
It doesn’t want to be filled.
It wants to be witnessed.
Not fixed. Not explained. Not healed in a rush.
Just held.
Gently.
Without judgment.
And in that stillness, there’s a strange kind of peace.
🔁 Not Forever, Just For Now
I know this isn’t forever.
Emptiness is a visitor — not a life sentence.
And sometimes what it’s really asking for is my own presence.
To sit with myself the way I wish someone had once sat with me.
No advice.
No distraction.
Just… presence.
So today, I gave myself that.
And it was enough.
Not everything needs to be filled.
Some spaces are sacred —
And maybe this one is where the real connection begins.