Community Guidelines
This is a library of grief, not a forum for debate.
It is not a place to fix, rescue, advise, or process your own pain in someone else’s presence without their consent. The comments section is not where we unspool our unfiltered trauma. It is where we place something down carefully, like a stone on an altar. You may share what is yours to share, and only that.
These guidelines are not suggestions. They are the sacred architecture that allows this space to stay intact. If a comment is removed or someone is blocked, it is not up for discussion. These are the protections that allow truth-telling to unfold here without harm.
✦ What This Space Is For:
This space exists to hold the quiet kinds of grief (the ones that don’t get named, let alone honored). It is a place to reflect. To witness. To feel without needing to perform. To say, “This happened,” and let that be enough.
We write in plain language. We stay with what is real. We do not float away into abstraction or spiritual bypass. We do not center ourselves in someone else’s sorrow. We do not give advice. We do not interpret another person’s experience.
✦ What’s Welcome:
◼ Personal reflections on your own grief — honest, respectful, and shared with care.
◼ Comments that center the original poster’s experience, not your own.
◼ Presence-based responses such as “Thank you for sharing this” or “You’re not alone.”
◼ Acknowledgment that silence is sacred. You are never required to respond.
◼ Content warnings if you are sharing something intense, along with grounding context.
✦ What’s Not Welcome:
◻ Advice-giving in any form, including suggestions masked as care.
◻ Commenting on someone else’s grief in a way that shifts focus to your interpretation.
◻ Emotional unloading or uncontained trauma dumping. This is not a processing space.
◻ Harmful language or disrespect in any form (including racism, ableism, transphobia, and spiritual superiority).
◻ Stories that are not yours to tell.
◻ Spiritual platitudes, metaphors used to avoid truth, or generalizing pain to make it more palatable.
✦ If You’re Unsure What to Say:
Here are words that fit the rhythm of this space:
◼ “Thank you for naming this.”
◼ “I feel this too.”
◼ “You are not alone.”
◼ Or simply say nothing. Let the silence witness what words cannot.
✦ A Final Note from the Keeper
This library is made of bones, not bricks. It is strong, but also tender. We have to tend it well. That means choosing words carefully, respecting boundaries, and knowing when to stay quiet.
Every person who enters brings a story. Some are raw. Some are decades old. Some were never allowed to be told. Your role here is not to shape them. Your role is to witness, to honor, and to reflect only what is yours.
If you break the container, you will be asked to leave. That’s not cruelty. That’s care. Care for this work, for the people who come here aching, and for the keeper who holds the door open every day.
Go slowly. Speak truth. Protect the space.