When Grief Feels Haunted — Is It Just Fear, or Something More?

Welcome back to Unfiltered Diaries—a space where we write what’s real, even when it’s hard to say out loud.

Grief has a strange way of reshaping the world around us. It doesn’t just hurt—it haunts, lingers, unsettles. Sometimes, it pulls us into silence. Other times, it births fears we never had before. Today’s Dear Diary entry is one of those tender, raw moments when loss opens a door to questions we don’t always know how to ask—about fear, about the spirit world, about what remains after someone we love is gone.

If you’ve ever experienced a kind of grief that made the air feel heavier or the shadows feel closer, keep reading. This one’s for you.

Dear Diary,

“After my sister passed away, I developed a deep fear-one I couldn’t quite explain. I became terrified of being alone. I couldn’t sleep alone, sit alone, or even be by myself without feeling uneasy. I constantly needed someone around to talk to or at least to
see people nearby. It’s not that l’m afraid of her—I loved her—but l’m scared of something else… something that might be pretending to be her.
Something that’s not really her at all.
Do you think this is just paranoia? Or could it be something more?”
–Anonymous

Whew… this one hit different. First, I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing a sister—that kind of pain carves into your soul in a way that’s hard to put into words. And then, when grief starts showing up in strange, unsettling ways? It can feel like your mind and spirit are walking through shadows with no clear way out.

What you’re describing isn’t uncommon, especially after the loss of someone deeply close. Grief isn’t always quiet sobbing or moments of sadness. Sometimes it’s fear. Sometimes it’s restlessness. Sometimes it takes the shape of things that make us question our own sanity.

You’re not crazy. You’re not broken. You’re reacting to an emotional and spiritual shock—and when we don’t have words or understanding for that weight, our bodies and minds try to protect us in any way they can, even through hypervigilance or fear.

Now… about the part where you said, “I’m scared of something that might be pretending to be her.”

That’s chilling—and I don’t say that to scare you. I say that because it’s okay to be honest when things feel spiritually off. You don’t have to explain it away. Whether it’s lingering trauma, a psychological reaction, or something that leans into the spiritual realm, your fear is real. And it deserves gentleness, not judgment.

This might be a moment to cleanse your space—emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Light a candle. Say a prayer. Play music that feels like peace. Talk to a therapist. Talk to a trusted spiritual advisor. Go to church- get closer to God. Open the windows and speak aloud: “Only light and love are welcome here. I release anything that does not serve me.”

Grief can make the veil feel thin. You’re not imagining that. But you’re also not helpless in it.

Ask yourself:

What makes me feel safe?
What practices bring me back to center?
Am I allowing myself to grieve—or just trying to survive?

There’s no shame in needing people close right now. But also remember: you are not alone, even when it feels like it.

You’ve survived a loss that cracked you open. Now it’s about gently rebuilding what that loss tried to take. Piece by piece. Night by night.

You are not crazy.

You are grieving.

You are deeply human.

And you are protected.

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