"Don't let them get a foothold in your head." He twists the shovel in the dirt, forgoing deep, tugging heaves of the shovel for the moment and just breaking ground with repeated stomps down onto the shovel's top. Sinking it over and over again, creating a furrow and twisting. Anything to dislodge and loosen the earth and make the repetition move more smoothly when he returns to shifting it. "Replace them with something flat and uninteresting. Focus on the impersonal and shut the rest out."

He's never had to articulate what he does or how before. He's not even sure he can, or if it will help. It had only helped him because it had been paired with a dedication to leaving before he could fuck it up with being around for too long.

"When that fails, distance." He slams the shovel in harder than necessary and the shock of the shovel glancing off a rock has Casey cursing a string of words under his breath, low and sharp. He shakes out his hand and bends down to scoop up the gloves, tugging the sweaty workgear on over his hands. When he's done he kneels down to dig the rock out of the ground with his hands, hefting it up to drop on the edge of the grave when he's done.