Shooting with (Patreon)

Assttrid 

Since the spring, I have been working on the fear of death and loss of loved ones. I wrote a farewell letter to my grandmother who died when I was 13 years old, because it turned out that I still haven't survived that loss. I cried over the impending loss of my mother and Tony (my Catalan friend).... And it was as if I began to breathe freely, without fear and with complete acceptance. And here is a new loss, the loss of a person who was second only to my parents in terms of closeness. It was very difficult to realize what had happened and accept what had happened.

But I am proud of myself that I lived through it. I allowed myself to cry as much as I needed to, I allowed myself to blame myself, I allowed myself to go to the funeral, I allowed myself to be fully enveloped by the memories, I allowed myself to talk about it with loved ones and friends....and I did it until I felt better. I didn't allow myself to do that before. I ran away from these emotions and pretended that nothing had happened. In order not to feel this pain and loneliness.

I wrote a farewell letter, saw him in the coffin, said words of gratitude and asked for forgiveness, and I felt better. I'm even a little surprised that after that I felt better so quickly. Because in the first days I already thought that I would be in this condition for another whole year. I know that there is still emptiness and a wound inside me, but it is gradually healing.

Thank  for all of you so much for your kind words and support.

I want to share one more unpleasant impression. I think it clearly changed me. On the day of the burial, when we had to enter the morgue and identify the body, we were told, please do not look around in the first room. So that you understand, there was no room there, it was a large tent on the street that served as a corridor or vestibule in front of the entrance to the building itself.

In this tent, bodies that no longer looked like people were lying around the perimeter, bodies that were almost impossible to recognize because there was almost nothing left of them - they were covered with bloody bags. And it's summer - you can imagine the stench there. I will never forget this smell. It haunted me for a long time, it seemed to get into my skin, hair, clothes. What am I talking about? ... I felt and saw war for the first time at that moment. I can no longer rejoice at "good" news or "bad" news from the frontline, I know that behind any news there is this "tent" bigger or smaller ... I perceive the soldiers on the street even more painfully, I even more painfully I perceive sirens every day, I perceive even more painfully the leadership of the state that often uses the budget inappropriately, I perceive Ukraine even more painfully.

Now I got hard here. Even describing my memories and thoughts to you now, I feel physically sick. It's like going back to the times of panic attacks.

I will never be the same. And that makes me sad. I would like to just erase some memories from my life so that I can be that cheerful carefree silly girl again.

I will not mention these terrible things here again. It's time to live my single best life.