see how i'm dealing with the grief

Manchester By the Sea is incredible in the most understated way possible. It seems like it should be this extremely dramatic over-acted film, and instead it just felt like invading someone’s actual life. I didn’t actually spend any of it laughing or crying, just feeling. I was brought back to my own memories of that kind of overwhelming grief that’s awkward and you have no idea how to even deal with it. Casey Affleck says a million words without speaking. There is such an understanding of real grief and it made the whole film so cathartic. It cut like a knife and was a relief at the same time. 

anonymous asked:

Hey, you should upload more Swaptale! I'm kidding, I'm sorry, I thought this would be at least a little funny, it was not. I entirely respect your decision as an artist to discontinue something that brought you such grief, and I can, after seeing what some of the fandom was like, understand why you would not want to deal with Undertale. Uhh... Have a nice day?

hey thanks i think ur the first person in a while thast mentioned swaptale and not also said 1) “when is more/make more” 2) “how was it going to end” 3) “such a shame we didnt get an ending!! :)))”

likealeafinthesea  asked:

How do you deal with loss, with grief? In 23 days it'll be a year since my mom died and I'm still suffocating.

Dear wevegotwingstofly,


I don’t know how to stop fighting for something, even when the battle isn’t mine and even when it isn’t winnable. 2015 was a year of loss for me, and my coping mechanisms netted me a letter from the DMV urging me to reconsider my driving habits, a town in Colorado that probably never wants to see me again, and apparently a newfound habit of wandering away from my body. I’m not sure anyone should take coping lessons from me.

The only thing I can say I’ve learned is that it was a real mistake to tell myself that I was over it. I was in a hurry to be okay again, but thinking I was over it only made me continually shocked by the volatile version of me that sprang out without warning. It only made me find endless excuses for why my novel wasn’t getting done in the usual amount of time. It only made it persist in an untenable, poisonous state for months. It just made it quiet, until it wasn’t.

It’s easier to live with loss now that I’ve realized I can be both not over it and also okay. I can be both truly happy about the rest of my life and haunted by loss at the same time and it isn’t a contradiction. I let myself consider how beaten up I am over it, and then I move on. It works a lot better than ignoring it until fires are glowing in my heart. On a bad evening, I’ll use my three-minute rule. That helps. Setting allowed limits for it frees up my emotional bandwidth to fight battles that can actually be won. 

But mostly, I plug along, trying to be a person I’m proud of being; a hero in my own life. I think it’s working? I can’t tell. It’s too soon. Ask me in a year.

I hope you find a breath of air soon.



I’m processing the episode, and I love that while it’s a packed one (it is our 3rd to last episode after all) that has a number premise and introduces team machine 2, it still has at least some small space to explore the idea of grief.

Specifically the idea that there are different expressions of grief with the Machine and Shaw.

Harold accuses the Machine that she couldn’t possibly understand what he’s feeling, but the Machine begs to differ. She ran 12483 simulations in the last remaining seconds before Root’s death. She watched her die in all 12483 of them. The Machine was desperate to save Root. Her argument on what love is, can be interpreted as her loving all of humanity (which is a conversation in itself, especially given how many times the show referred to her as a deity, because it’s then suddenly an all-seeing, all-loving entity who watches over people while powerless to intervene on a grand scale…), but Root was special. She was her friend, her prophet, her love, whatever you want to call it. She was like her. Someone who could understand her. Someone who was capable of terrible things, and yet chose to do good under Harold’s guidance. The Machine could’ve chosen out of thousands of voices but it chose Root’s. Which, as Harold points out the obvious, is only fitting since she already did that, chose Root as her voice all those years ago when she became the Analogue Interface. Her AI.

Even if the Machine is just an Artificial Intelligence, and even though Harold is too stubborn to see and admit it, the Machine’s grief is obvious. Palpable. Maybe it’s different from what Harold is feeling, but it’s just as real to her as it is to him. She’s lost Root too.

Meanwhile we have Shaw. Shaw, who didn’t show up to the burial of Root’s body. Fusco is worried about her, but he also doesn’t understand why she’s not grieving. But John has a much better understanding of Shaw: “just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean she’s not grieving”. We, as audience members of course see the signs even more clearly. We know the importance of the playground, the roundabout, we know what it means that she’s touching the place behind her ear. She’s wondering if this is a simulation. She wants it to be a simulation. She’s experiencing the Denial stage of her grief. She goes as far as offering herself up to the security camera, to Samaritan, for it to end. Seeing that from Shaw of all people actually makes it all the more heartbreaking. No wonder that John is worried about her too.

But Shaw can’t experience or express grief or emotions the same way, and we get another reminder of that during their interrogation.

“If I could feel sympathy for you, Charlie, I would. But I don’t. What I do feel is anger. I’m angry that you’re trying to kill the president. I’m angry that we’re stuck in a room with you. But most of all, I’m angry that you have people that you can love and you chose to sign their death warrants.

Shaw can’t love or grief the way other people do, and she’s always been acutely aware of that. This might go into a bit of a headcanon territory, but I always felt like Shaw chose to make up for that, for not being able to feel things as deeply for the people she loved, by honoring them in other ways. She honored her father, her parents by choosing to follow their examples, to do good, she chose to honor Cole’s or Carter’s memory by trying to get justice for them. And by the end of the episode, that’s what we see her doing again. She’s back to fighting Samaritan in full force, because that’s what Root would’ve wanted. She found a way to honor her memory after all, because that’s how Shaw can deal with her grief, what she finds comfort in.

So, even if we didn’t get a massive fallout episode like we did with Devil’s Share, I do like the stuff that we did get. There are a number of ways to experience grief, and not only the characters on the show, but we as an audience do it all differently.

anonymous asked:

I keep seeing and hearing "Change your thoughts, change your mind." "Happiness is a choice." But the thing is... I'm hurt and I'm hurting and pain and grief they just don't go away and that isn't always how you deal with it. I want to feel better, I do... but I don't think it's just as simple as changing my mind. Things need time to heal. What do you think?

Sometimes when we’re hurting for so long we find comfort in the pain. It is familiar to us. Like at the end of the day when you just want to curl into bed and cry because that’s just what you do, that’s just how it’s been. It’s easy to be angry when someone says “just think happy thoughts,” or “just be positive” or “be optimistic,” because you know it is not as simple as that. It never has been. You are allowed to hurt. You are allowed to feel. Allow yourself to feel your emotions and express them as they come, but don’t allow yourself to stay there.
When people say happiness is a choice, think of it as choosing all those little things you do every day to feel better. Things you might not even notice like getting a coffee before work, seeing your dog in the morning, texting your friend that inside joke. It is not as simple as just changing your mind, because changing your entire mindset is not simple. It takes time. But you can choose to do things that make you feel good, and you can choose to see things differently. Like if you just got dumped, you can see it as “I can do so much better” instead of “why am I not good enough.” You can choose to start changing your life.
It’s important to recognize that you do not have to stay where you are. The way you’re feeling doesn’t have to be permanent. When you believe that it is possible to feel better, that’s when you will begin to feel better. I promise you it is all uphill from here.