Poetry and grieving

Lately, my life has been an unending series of tragic events. It sounds dramatic, I know, but I’m not exaggerating.

I used to upload on PS almost daily, sharing my poems. For once, I felt like my work was getting recognition; I felt like people were cherishing my poems. But then, abruptly, I stopped. Just like that, I stopped writing. I stopped writing poetry, I stopped writing novels, I stopped writing articles and blogs. I just stopped doing my favorite thing in the world. And during these three months, I’ve done nothing. Time slipped by unnoticed. I don't believe this is a very important topic, nor do I think anyone would be interested in reading this blog. But I wanted to share my experience, perhaps to give an explanation to those who read my work and noticed my absence. Or maybe no one really noticed.

I love PS. It’s a beautiful community filled with amazing people who write extraordinary poems. I’ve learned so much here. The lovely words people left in the comments of my poems are something I'll never forget. For once, I felt like I was a part of something meaningful. Since no one supported my work in real life, being part of this community helped me keep writing, to keep going.

However, I think the part of me that was so excited about writing and sharing poems died long ago, when my grandma passed away in January. Ever since then, I’ve felt so lost.

In the beginning, writing was my escape. When the world seemed harsh and unforgiving, my poetry was a sanctuary where I could express my deepest thoughts and emotions. The sense of connection I felt with readers on PS was invigorating. Every like, every comment, every share felt like a validation of my innermost feelings, a sign that I was not alone in my thoughts.

But grief has a way of consuming everything. When my grandma died, it was like a light had been extinguished inside me. She was my biggest supporter, the one who always encouraged me to pursue my passion for writing. Losing her felt like losing a part of myself. The words that once flowed so easily now felt heavy and forced. Every attempt to write was a painful reminder of her absence.

I tried to push through the pain. I thought if I just kept writing, the grief would eventually subside. But it didn’t. Instead, it deepened, making it harder and harder to find joy in the things I once loved. The vibrant community on PS, which had been my refuge, now felt distant and out of reach. The poems that once brought me solace now seemed hollow and meaningless.

I isolated myself, hoping that time would heal the wounds. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, but the numbness remained. I watched as the world moved on without me, feeling like an outsider in my own life. The spark that had fueled my creativity was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss and despair.

I miss the person I was before January. I miss the excitement of crafting a new poem, the thrill of sharing it with others, the joy of reading their responses. I miss feeling connected to something greater than myself. But most of all, I miss my grandma. Her absence has left a void that nothing seems to fill.

Writing this blog is my first attempt at reconnecting with the part of myself that I’ve lost. It’s a small step, but it’s a start. Maybe, by sharing my experience, I can find a way back to the community that once meant so much to me. Maybe I can rediscover the joy of writing and the sense of belonging that came with it.

To those who read my work and wondered where I went, thank you for your patience. I hope to find my way back, to start writing again, to feel that connection once more. Until then, I’m taking it one day at a time, hoping that each new day brings a little more light.