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Grief Became The Accessory That I Carried Everywhere With Me

I've been a second hand witness to grief most of my life. I've dried tears rolling down cheeks, I've placed flowers at gravestones and I've even been a stoic shoulder to cry on. Up until this year; when I was inducted into the morbid fold of the grief-stricken. It wasn't watching from the front row anymore, it was stepping inside the ring. Initially, all I felt was numbness. While the rest of the world seemed to be weeping around me, I was powering through my routine on auto-pilot. I initially felt relieved that maybe, just maybe, I was one of those people who could process loss healthily. That didn't last very long though. It was beginning to feel like I was made of two different people. There was the one who woke up with hope in her heart and positivity to take on the day. And then there was her; the other half who felt almost handicapped with anxiety that this was actually my reality and life somehow had to go on. Unfortunately, the latter reared her head by

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