There’s a strange kind of griefthat comes after the storm.

Not when everything breaks —but when everything becomes… distant.

It’s called emotional disidentification —The quiet moment whenthe version of you who was hurtingstarts to feel separatefrom the one who’s still here.

It can feel like peace.It can feel like disconnection.It can feel like betrayal.It can feel like relief.

Because for so long,your pain was the narrator.The lens. The architecture.The reason you moved the way you moved.

And now that it’s quieter —you’re not sure who you are without it.

You’re still healing.But you’re no longer inhabiting the grief.You’re observing it.

And that’s where return begins.Not with a bang.But with a breaththat no longer echoes in your wounds.

✧ quiet prompt:

What part of your identity has started to fall away… and you didn’t even notice until now?

🌒 go deeper:

→ read: grief processing, memory detachment, and post-traumatic perspective shift → chapter: decoding

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