My brain loves to do this thing where it assumes people don't really care about me (as in they don't notice not like anything malicious but that people just aren't paying attention) and that is obviously not true (it's the deeeep seated trauma talking).
But I got a few nice reminders of this this week. One was getting called "the glue guy" who quietly keeps the team together in our work quiz mid year wrap up email (We do a weekly newspaper quiz and the quizmaster keeps stats).
And the other one was we had our EOFY work event, and a couple people who were organising it made sure I would have drink options that I can have at the event. Which I found out through a third person.
So basically, to be loved is to be known and people do give a fuck.











