#finding closure

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

I hate that you broke me, I hate that I have trust issues because of you, I hate that I hurt people, but most of all, I hate that I'm still not able to hate you.

[rebellenotes]

Grieving What You Cannot Touch

I’ve always found it strange how we’re taught to grieve for tangible losses—a person, a place, a thing—but never for the intangible. Nobody tells you how to mourn the parts of yourself you’ve outgrown, or the life you thought you’d have, or the innocence that quietly slipped away when you weren’t paying attention. It’s an ache without a name, a grief that doesn’t fit into tidy boxes like funerals or goodbyes. And yet, it lingers, just as heavy, just as real.

I feel like that type of grief is often closely related to nostalgia. Or rather that nostalgia is, amongst other things, the experience of grieving the past. But it’s not just about longing for what was—it’s about grieving what never was. The version of your life that didn’t come to pass, the connections you hoped for but never formed. For me, it’s the emotional relationship I never had with the male members of my family, particularly my father.

Growing up, I never experienced the father-daughter bond I’d see in movies or hear about from friends. My dad was always emotionally unavailable—distant in a way I couldn’t name as a child but felt keenly in the space between us. I’ve recently learned that when I was 2 or 3 years old, he was in and out of the hospital due to his cancer. During those formative years, my world revolved around my mom, not my dad. And as I piece these things together as an adult, I can’t help but wonder how those early days shaped me. Did I subconsciously decide, even as a toddler, that I couldn’t rely on male figures for emotional connection? Did I carry that into my relationships later on?

The grief here isn’t just for the past; it’s for the ripple effects it has in the present. I grieve the father I wish I had, the kind of dad who would have taught me how to trust male figures, how to feel secure in their presence. But I also grieve the way that absence shaped me into someone who still struggles with those connections today. It’s not a straightforward pain. It’s layered with love, disappointment, and a quiet understanding that sometimes people can’t give you what you need—not because they don’t care, but because they didn’t know how.

This kind of grief is tricky because it’s not rooted in a single event or moment. It’s a slow, quiet loss that stretches across years, shaping you in ways you don’t realize until you look back. And when you do, it’s not just sadness you feel—it’s a mix of everything: anger, longing, confusion, acceptance. You grieve what you didn’t have, what you didn’t know to ask for, and what you’ll never fully get back.

And yet, in grieving, there’s also clarity. There’s a sense of giving yourself permission to name the loss, even if it feels abstract. To say, “This mattered. This hurt. And I’m allowed to feel it.” Because mourning isn’t just about closure—it’s about honouring the weight of what was missing, even if it can’t be replaced.

But how do you fix something so… floating? Something so abstract and unfathomable for a lot of people. How do I tell people I grieve the loving father-daughter relationship I never had? People respond, “I’m sorry for your loss,” and it feels comforting, until I realise they assume my father is gone. But I’m not talking about the physical presence of my dad. I’m talking about the absence of a loving connection between us. 

How do you grieve something that technically exists but doesn’t feel whole? It’s not a loss in the traditional sense—it’s not someone who passed away or a relationship that was severed. It’s something more elusive: the absence of what could have been, of what you needed but didn’t receive. It’s mourning potential. It’s grieving love that never bloomed in the ways you hoped it would.

I’ve tried to explain this to others before, and it’s always met with a kind of confusion. People are quick to console when they think you’ve lost someone physically. They know how to respond when grief has a name and a date. But when you tell them, “I’m grieving a bond that was never there,” they don’t know what to say. It’s like trying to describe the shape of an empty space, a void that only you can see.

And maybe that’s what makes this kind of grief so isolating. It’s hard to articulate, hard to validate, even to yourself. You start to question whether it’s fair to feel this way. After all, my dad was there, right? He worked hard, he provided for us, he was present in the ways he knew how to be. So why does it still feel like something is missing? Why does it hurt so much to see other father-daughter relationships filled with warmth and emotional closeness?

That’s the thing about intangible grief—it doesn’t adhere to logic. You can’t reason your way out of it. It lingers, sneaking into quiet moments, catching you off guard when you least expect it. It’s in the way your heart aches during Father’s Day commercials or when a friend talks about their dad being their rock. It’s in the little pang of envy you feel when you see those bonds you never had, knowing they represent something you’ll always yearn for.

I’ve also frequently grieved the way my life could have looked if I didn’t have anxiety. If my depression didn’t make me sleep all day to escape the real world. Sleeping At Last once sang “How do I forgive myself for losing so much time?,” and I can’t help but relate so hard it feels like my heart is going to cave in on itself in pain. 

How do you cope with such grievances? I wish I knew, but I’m learning that coping doesn’t always mean finding answers. Sometimes, it’s about sitting with the pain and letting it exist without trying to solve it. Grieving intangible losses—whether it’s a relationship, a version of yourself, or time you’ll never get back—isn’t something you can fix. It’s something you have to feel, piece by piece, day by day.

For me, part of coping has been allowing myself to mourn without guilt. To acknowledge that these feelings are valid, even if they don’t fit into the conventional mold of loss. I remind myself that grief isn’t a competition—it doesn’t have to be “big enough” or visible to others to matter. It matters because it matters to me.

I also try to focus on what I can rebuild, even if it’s just in small ways. I might never get the father-daughter relationship I longed for, but I can work on fostering meaningful connections with others. I can let myself feel the hurt without letting it harden me. I can remind myself that grieving isn’t about staying stuck in the past—it’s about making peace with it so I can carry it differently.

As for the time lost to anxiety and depression, I try to show myself the same compassion I would offer a friend. It’s easy to blame myself for the days spent hiding under the covers or the moments I missed because I was too overwhelmed to participate in life. But blaming myself doesn’t change the past—it only adds to the weight I’m already carrying. Instead, I try to focus on the moments I can reclaim, even if they’re small. A walk outside, a conversation with a friend, a little step forward.

I think that’s the hardest part about grieving intangible losses: the fact that there’s no closure, no finality. It’s a process, not a destination. It’s messy and nonlinear, and some days it feels like you’re back at the beginning. But even in those moments, there’s a kind of resilience in simply continuing. In saying, “I’m still here, and I’m still trying.”

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe grief doesn’t need to be fixed or resolved—it just needs to be acknowledged. To hold space for what was, what wasn’t, and what still could be. Because in that space, there’s room for healing. There’s room for growth. And maybe, just maybe, there’s room for hope too.

[notsurpisedheartbreak]

The recent Heart break although not so recent, is my long distance “best friend” just basically ghosted me without closure. And it’s been almost a year tommorrow since I said a “how are you” and no message back. You know what i am okay. It’s okay! I am living with it well, I am starting to see it for what it is. I will never know what caused her to not explain her ghosting me. We have a relatively healthy friendship it was my first healthy friendship. She was my best friend I genuinely thought that. But my best friend wouldn’t throw me away like that, i don’t try to come up with theories I just simple believe we have grown apart. We talked everyday for 3 years we made it work she put so much energy and effort and consistency. But I am not gonna even try at this point to come up with idea why I didn’t deserve an explanation. It is a coward move considering we had such a honest friendship but that doesn’t apply anymore. Not any more, anyways. A no-answer is an answer, and there is a part of me that wishes her well. But the hurt side of me is hoping that she still thinks about me, I jsut want to believe. But one gone friend doesn’t matter I still have other friends who actually are putting effort into our friendship! They matter more. With this hurt I just transform it into grateful for the people who had stayed and remain consistent! Everything happens for the best!

[gpstudios]

Embracing the World Reversed: Navigating Challenges and Finding Completion

Explore the lessons of the World reversed Tarot card. Discover how to navigate delays, find closure, and create harmony. Embrace the journey to completion and fulfillment with resilience and insight. 🌍✨

Introduction The World card in the Tarot is a symbol of completion, achievement, and fulfillment. When this card appears reversed in a reading, it can signify delays, obstacles, or feelings of incompleteness. However, the World reversed is not a harbinger of doom; instead, it offers an opportunity for introspection and growth. By understanding the deeper meanings of this card and how to navigate…

[chocostrwberry]

Operation: Ladybug!!

[bunnieswithknives]

Wow Dale... There were miscalculations? And who made those miscalculations HMMMM???

Prev | Next

[rocketbirdie]

ready to call it a day?

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

[rimatsu]

setting pessimism aside to daydream about my ideal bucktommy makeup scenario and i just... keep oscillating between buck extending an olive branch and tommy reaching out first. there's merit in both. yes i'd love for buck to discard passivity and fight for this salvageable relationship — for buck to look tommy straight in the eyes and tell him that his sharp edges and his vulnerable insides don't make him any less deserving of love. that he's not blinded by the excitement of novelty or misguided admiration — even without the full picture, buck has seen enough pieces of the puzzle that makes up tommy's whole to know that he loves the entirety of him, unspoken faults and past sins included. that buck can't guarantee forever but he sure as hell can try to build the sturdy foundation of a shared life based on the hope for more. that sometimes you just luck out on the first draw and there's nothing wrong with good fortune.

but it would also be extremely healing if tommy knocked on buck's door to chase after his own second chance. to say "i want you more than i'm scared of hurting" when buck asks him what's changed in 4 months — because tommy would rather live with scars than be haunted by regrets and what-ifs. because buck is worth the risk of never recovering from having loved him

[tiny-breadcrumbs]

Ripple

[ryllen]

obscure event that confirms yuu is well x x

[eternallytir3d]

Started SVSSS for the silly premise, slowing trudging through all the tragic lore and implecations.

[edgarallennope]

as james somerton is back in the conversation, i would like to soyjack point to the one and only tweet that hbomberguy has made in light of the recent news:

[reunitedinterlude]

dan abandoning phil (2024 // 2017)

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #13

When Danny decided to move to Central City, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. He just knew he wanted to move somewhere he could be useful.

He had been a vigilante for so long, he wanted to help people a different way. Working at the morgue was a way he could help souls find rest.

Plus, the forensic scientist (chemist?) he got to interact with sometimes was a nice benefit. Now, if he can just figure a way to ask him out and eventually tell him he's technically dead, he'd be set.

[catabasis]

“Am I doing him right?”