I am afraid of how normal sadness has started to feel

Dear Delyara, Not dramatic sadness. Not breakdown sadness. The quieter kind. The kind that still makes dinner. Still turns up. Still answers questions. Still keeps the house moving. But moves through all of it slightly dimmed, slightly far away, slightly less alive than it should. That’s the part that frightens me. Because sadness like this can hide for a long time under words like tired, busy, hormonal, stressed, overwhelmed, practical, just a lot going on. All of that may be true. And still, underneath it, I can feel something lower and heavier that I don’t fully trust anymore. I’m scared I’ve become too good at looking functional while carrying an inner life that feels increasingly grey. I’m scared I’ll keep naming it too softly until it takes more from me than it already has.