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I'm going to post something that might get dropped into the void and that's okay. It's for me, and about my healing. It's a far cry from the normal shitposting that is all I can bring myself to clutter the feed with. This is probably confusing and unknown for anyone that joined COVID year onward but IYKYK. I've never really let myself fully process losing Dream. My entire life has been suppressing bad things that happened, I'm an expert at it. Therapy has uncovered this as a survival mechanism, something that allows me to move forward by minimalizing the emotional impact that terrible things have had. This is only half of course-most of my life up until the past half-decade has also simply not allowed me time and space to process. The very day I learned what happened to Dream, I was starting a job as a supervisor position and I asked my manager if I could have the day off to process and grieve. My manager's response that is burned into my cortex, was, "I just lost my father, you see me here working? Life moves on, you have responsibilities." And that stuck with me. That I didn't get to process things. Because life moves on. And that's probably the hardest part of grief and loss. Life continues around those affected with an uncaring, steady pace. Most people don't know what you carry, and even if they do, the amount of people that can genuinely communicate about it is minimal. I'm guilty. My lifetime of trauma has made it so difficult to be there for other people in their pain, and it's only this year that I've made a dedicated effort to approach people in a vulnerable and genuine way. It's scary. It's like being naked, but with your soul. And I don't blame anyone who doesn't want to do that. But if Dream has taught me anything, it's that when we DON'T take the time to be close, to communicate, to understand what people are going through, what's too much-that we may not ever get the chance to. Please check on those you love. Please be there. Even if it's hard to do for yourself, do it for her.