The Weight of Unspoken Words

Finding peace amidst the pain of unresolved relationships and unspoken truths. Guest post

Note from Caitlin of Dose of Wonder: The below post is a guest post from Susan Shier of

GO SIMPLE

and is talking in today’s post about grief and loss and relationships with a powerful story.

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Thanksgiving Day 2024.

There was no text.
No call.
It marked a new low in our relationship.

How did we get here? What went wrong?

Despite our best efforts, relationships sometimes unravel. The pain deepens when a once-close bond is broken. In this case, it’s my sister.

My brain says, "She's adopted. You’re not aligned. Let it go." A defense mechanism, perhaps, trying to justify the loss. But my heart aches for the memories we shared growing up. Losing Mom and Dad was hard enough. Losing her feels unbearable.

I know she’s grieving, too, but why push me away? It stirs my core wound: feeling unloved. And here I am—unloved, ruminating on the same thoughts: She doesn’t care. She doesn’t love you. Maybe she never did.

Years ago, my daughter pointed out what I couldn’t see: "It was always a fake relationship." That hurt deeply.

Things changed after her daughter died. Dad passed six years ago, and Mom last year. I thought we’d face this grief together. Instead, we became a mess.

Too many unspoken truths. Too many tight-lipped conversations. Attempts to bridge the gap were dismissed as me being too much. I’ve learned that honesty isn’t straightforward for everyone. Some prefer to discard a relationship rather than confront difficult emotions. But that hurts when you’re the one being discarded.

Add the loss of my niece, and I feel utterly lost. My nuclear family is gone. Yes, I have my husband and daughters, but the dissolution of my family of origin weighs heavily.

We don’t talk. We don’t see each other. Even if I visit New York, we’d barely interact. Why? Because I refuse to fake it. I feel everything—deeply.

But you don’t. You bottle it up. You’re stuck in the belief that you’re unlovable and flawed. Your lack of self-awareness is tearing those who care for you apart.

I can’t do it anymore. I crave deep, meaningful connections. I grieve for the family we once were—for the love we had. At nearly 60, I feel orphaned.

I keep this pain hidden from my husband and daughters. I don’t want them to think they’re less important or overshadowed by what I’ve lost.

There wasn’t a fight—just an accumulation of wounds. Yes, I stormed out of my niece’s wake. Overwhelmed by emotions, I couldn’t stay. I skipped her celebration of life. Maybe that was the breaking point. If so, I’m to blame.

But I’ve always followed my heart, leaning into my emotions. I feel my family never understood this depth—the weight of words left unsaid.

This has been years in the making. It began a decade ago when I wasn’t invited to a child’s birthday party. Mom told me to let it go. I couldn’t. It was the first clear sign something was wrong.

Attempts to address it were met with gaslighting: "Nothing’s wrong. Sorry, you feel that way. Everything is fine."

But it wasn’t okay. And still, no one gave it a voice.

Of course. Here's a way to bring your thoughts to a conclusion:

I’ve carried this pain for so long, hoping for clarity, resolution, or even just acknowledgment. But sometimes, the closure we need doesn’t come from others—it has to come from within.

I’m learning to accept that not all relationships can be mended, no matter how much we wish otherwise. Boundaries are not walls; they are acts of self-preservation. They protect the love and energy I need to pour into those who value and reciprocate it.

Yes, this loss hurts deeply. The grief feels insurmountable at times, but I refuse to let it define me. I have my husband, my daughters, and the life I’ve built. I won’t let what’s missing overshadow what remains.

I’m focusing on relationships that align with my values—ones rooted in honesty, mutual respect, and love. As much as I mourn what’s been lost, I know I can’t carry this weight forever.

Sometimes, moving on isn’t giving up. It’s permitting yourself to heal.

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Thanks so much to Susan for being a guest on Dose of Wonder and sharing her story with us here! And don’t forget to check out her Substack below (or here if viewing on the app) to get insights on mental health or if you need help simplifying your life and optimizing tech and your time!