- 10 Nov, 2025 *
Yesterday, my friends and I gathered on discord for a few games of league. I’ve found that my stamina for the game is pretty low these days. It requires a lot of focus and mental fortitude, which I don’t exactly have in spades at the moment. I told my friends to keep playing without me and sat in voice chat with them in silence as I did some research on grief. I looked into how people process losing a parent in the way she did: how long people take to ‘recover’ from it (answer: forever), the stages of it, and ways to cope. I pored over scientific …
- 10 Nov, 2025 *
Yesterday, my friends and I gathered on discord for a few games of league. I’ve found that my stamina for the game is pretty low these days. It requires a lot of focus and mental fortitude, which I don’t exactly have in spades at the moment. I told my friends to keep playing without me and sat in voice chat with them in silence as I did some research on grief. I looked into how people process losing a parent in the way she did: how long people take to ‘recover’ from it (answer: forever), the stages of it, and ways to cope. I pored over scientific research papers, handbooks, lists of books on the topic, NYC-based support groups. Why am I doing all of this, I started to wonder. She broke up with me. She doesn’t want me to think about her. Maybe she would hate that I’m spending my time doing this.
Studying grief in a structured manner did bring some clarity on my own breakup grief. For example, I was pretty confused on why I only hysterically sobbed about it two weeks after the fact, but I learned that the brain adaptively numbs and detaches, temporarily. But it also brought me peace to sit down and find the answers she couldn’t give me about how she’s feeling and why she pushed me away. Even then, I know this is partially an act of care. I want her to know I’m doing all of this. I want to share what I’ve learned with her, in hopes it helps. Above all, I feel an awful and strong desire to prove her wrong, to demonstrate that I do know how to be there for her. I wish I could focus on myself instead. Some days, I do. I went on a run the other day! I’ve been eating, writing, going to therapy, seeing friends! I’m trying, and some days, succeeding.. a little..
But for so long I’ve derived peace and meaning from the act of care for her. My continued impulses are proof that I did care, that I was patient, that I was willing. That’s why it hurts so much that she turned this breakup around on me and pointed it at me, after all my attempts to reach her when she was struggling, after all my desperation. Ugh. I feel sick just thinking about it and I have nowhere to put that feeling. Except here, I guess.