Losing the forbidden self is often more painful than losing a forbidden lover, because the lover might return. The self you sacrificed? It leaves a shape in your life like a phantom limb.

So mourn the flower. Press it into the dictionary of your soul. And then—slowly, imperfectly, with trembling hands—turn back toward the sun. The allowed garden is still there. It is not as thrilling. But it is real. And real is the only place where healing ever grows. If you are struggling with the isolation of losing a forbidden relationship, consider speaking with a therapist who specializes in disenfranchised grief. You do not have to confess the details to heal the wound.

This is the domain of the Forbidden Flower .

Imagine losing your spouse of twenty years. People bring casseroles. They sit with you. They say, "I’m so sorry for your loss."