Sarah (00:31)
Hi everyone, today we're gonna talk about grieving what you never got and the quiet grief of emotional neglect.

don't remember a tragic event. There was no funeral, no big goodbye. You were closed. You were fed. Maybe even you were told you were loved. And yet, there's this ache, it sneaks up on you sometimes, even when everything seems fine on the outside. During holidays, when your chest tightens and you don't know why. During a movie where a parent finally shows up for their kid.

and you find yourself wiping away tears you didn't expect. When someone asks, how are you really? And you feel sadness, a sadness that you just can't quite explain. If you've ever wondered why you feel so heavy sometimes, why you can be doing just quote unquote fine, but still feel flooded with longing or numbness or sorrow, there is a reason. And it's not because you're weak, it's because

You might be grieving what your nervous system never fully received. And yes, that counts as grief.

Let's talk about what emotional neglect really means. Emotional neglect isn't always about what didn't happen at all. Sometimes it's about what didn't happen enough. Maybe your caregivers told you they loved you. Maybe they made sacrifices. Maybe they showed up for in the best way that they knew how. And even with all of that, your particular system, your unique wiring, maybe needed something more. Maybe you were the sensitive kid in a chaotic house,

An anxious team with feelings that felt too big for the adults around you. Maybe love was offered, but only when you were easy to be around.

This really isn't about blame. It's about your reality and that some emotional needs went unmet and your body remembers even if your mind learned how to explain it away.

And here's the part that no one talks about. There's a kind of grief that doesn't have a funeral. There's no casseroles, no Hallmark cards. Dr. Pauline Boss is a grief expert, and she calls this ambiguous loss. This is the kind of mourning that we carry for what never fully materialized.

You might be grieving a parent who is physically there, but emotionally out of reach, a childhood where the basics were covered, but emotional safety was missing, a version of yourself that could have thrived if there had been more support and attunement. and because there's no ritual for this grief, it often gets minimized, buried, forgotten, but it's real. And naming it even quietly,

can be the start of something different.

You might not call it grief, but your nervous system, it really knows differently. It might show up as feeling heavy or sad around birthdays or holidays, crying during a random TV commercial that touches something deeply inside of you, longing for closeness, but freezing or panicking when that actually happens. feeling shame or guilt just for having emotional needs.

asking yourself for the hundredth time, maybe the thousandth time, if you're just too sensitive. Maybe you told yourself for years, I was fine, but your body really does remember otherwise. It remembers holding your breath when tension filled the room. It remembers shrinking yourself to stay safe. It remembers learning way too early that needing too much could cost you connection. Even now, it might show up in the way your stomach flips when you disappoint someone.

and the tightness in your chest when you even think about asking for help, and the guilt that creeps in when you finally choose yourself. Your mind might rationalize it, but your nervous system? Yep, like I said before, it's telling the truth.

grief isn't just about what you didn't get from others. It's about the parts of yourself that didn't get to fully become. You might find yourself mourning the version of yourself who felt safe being seen. The kid who could be messy, needy, and still be deeply loved. The adult who didn't have to hustle for her worth. Grieving for the you that didn't get to fully exist. And that's real grief too. And it's okay to be heartbroken about that. It's hard.

It's real and it's valid.

Sometimes I'm sure you hear that voice in your head, but my parents tried. yes. And both can be true. You can honor the love that was there and still grieve what was missing. You can hold compassion for them and for yourself. This isn't about making anyone the villain. It's about finally telling the truth your body has always known. Your grief doesn't need a villain.

It just needs acknowledgement.

So what does starting to heal actually look like? It's not about fixing yourself. It's about tending to the parts of you that were left waiting. It might start with naming it, just saying, I didn't get what I needed. It might look like letting yourself cry, letting yourself rage, letting yourself feel confused, letting it just be messy. It might mean learning how to offer yourself the steadiness and the patience you always needed.

It might mean finding spaces, people, therapy, community, where you don't have to explain why it still hurts. it complicated.

can love your family, you can be grateful for what you had and still wish it had been different.

This grief might be quiet, but it certainly isn't small. It's shaped how you love, how you cope, how you trust. Naming it without apology isn't betrayal, It's reclamation. Here at Reclaim Therapy, we hold space for this kind of grief, the kind that's been invisible for too long and you don't have to carry it alone anymore.

You're allowed to grieve what wasn't enough. You're allowed to honor what your younger self needed. And you're allowed to move forward at your own pace, on your own terms. And if you're looking for support, we're here when you're ready. You can connect with us at www.reclaimtherapy.org, or you can sign up as a starting place for our weekly newsletter. Either way, we hope you keep going, because you're already doing something really, really brave.