Since my twin died, I’ve been stuck in a constant state of fight and flight. Her absence isn’t something I grapple with easily. Coming to terms with her death is one part of it, but it’s not the full picture. Coming to terms with the life we had, and the space I now occupy alone, is far more complex.
Losing a twin isn’t just about loss – it's a fracture in identity. She and I shared a beginning, a bond that whether it was understood or not, shaped each other’s reality. And now, everything feels un-anchored, fragmented.
People often say we’re responsible for our own choices – and that’s true. If more of us took the time to truly understand this, we might live with greater care. We might show more compassion, more support. Because the choices others make don’t simply brush past us, they stay with us. They shape us. And often, it takes years to fully grasp just how deeply they’ve affected us, and how far those ripples reach.
If more of us cared to understood that, we would live differently. We would be more compassionate, more supportive. Because the actions of others don’t just pass through us – they leave marks. Sometimes, it takes years to understand how deeply, to understand how those decisions play out. Their decisions and interwoven relationships shape our realities, our healing, and the silence we carry – how we are left to pick up the pieces, and where our voice got tangled in the noise of what wasn't ours to carry.
There are days I want to retreat entirely, and think of 'nothing.' Then the universe reins me in. It knows me, it brings me back. Back to the questions that need to be asked. The loss, the grief. It encourages me to talk about the unspoken things. The uncomfortable moments. The moments it wants me to talk about, it still needs me to talk about, the moments I had no control over. Because that's where the truth resides. The universe implores us all to sit with the truth. It's all I have ever done, it's what I continue to do.
Writing as therapy for grief. I write from the gut, the heart. I don’t always write for answers – I don't always need to. If things feel comfortable, I let those things go. But I write universally to help others who may need answers. I also write because I need somewhere to place the weight of my life, the neglect, the trauma, and the abuse: my truth. A place to let the truth sit.
It's the psychological effect of twin loss that I struggle with. There is truth in grief. An unspoken loss. Her death didn’t just change the shape of my days, or life moving forward without her, it changed the shape of me.
