It's the big joke on everybody's mind:

When will 2016 just go away and let us have peace?

We began this year losing some of the most notable pop culture icons of our lifetimes. And we're ending it doing the same. Both Carrie Fisher and George Michael were young, vibrant, fantastical examples of how to live under the celebrity microscope with an identity that breaks societal norms, and not give two ever loving fucks about what people think of you. He was an LGBTQ+ icon. She was unapologetically mentally ill.

Throughout her years, after the famed success of the Star Wars franchise, Carrie Fisher became transparent about her struggle with drug addiction, as well as the battles she fought with her mental health.

“I have a chemical imbalance that, in its most extreme state, will lead me to a mental hospital. I used to think I was a drug addict, pure and simple — just someone who could not stop taking drugs willfully. And I was that. But it turns out that I am severely manic depressive.”
--Carrie Fisher, 1995

In her 2008 memoir, Wishful Drinking, she showed exactly how she feels about being mentally ill and having the public know it:

So having waited my entire life to get an award for something, anything (okay fine, not acting, but what about a tiny little award for writing? Nope), I now get awards all the time for being mentally ill. I’m apparently very good at it and am honored for it regularly. Probably one of the reasons I’m such a shoo-in is that there’s no swimsuit portion of the competition. Hey, look, it’s better than being bad at being mentally ill, right? How tragic would it be to be runner-up for Bipolar Woman of the Year?

On that same note, we see George Michael and his blatant rejection of the society that would reject him -- that is, if he gave a shit.

There is a lot to unpack about these lives and the impact that they had on the people who not only looked up to them, but identified with them. Champions of stigmatized groups and marginalized identities, the loss of a celebrity who stands for what you may believe in -- how you may identify -- is nothing to feel embarrassed for mourning. George Michael was an icon that could not be ignored, open about his sexuality and never caring what those who might stick their noses up would think. Carrie Fisher was relate-able, a recovering addict, and, let's be real here, someone I've wanted to be BFFs with since the dawn of time. (Honestly, her tag on my Tumblr is "best friend"). She was a complicated and shining light in this world.

We connect with these people because we see ourselves in them. We see their struggles, their tribulations, their embarrassments, and candor. But what we also see is them thriving. Thriving in a world that loves to use them as punchlines. Thriving not only due to their popularity and success but because of their happiness with the way their lives are lived.

We may not know them personally, but that does not make them unimportant to us. And that does not make it inappropriate to fully feel the sadness that comes with their passings.

You are allowed to grieve those who have changed your life, whether they know it or not.

To being complicated and never apologizing.