Thursday, June 4, 2020

Trauma

Trauma.

What a powerful word, right? 

When we hear it, it conjures up images of veterans, rape survivors, car accidents...individuals. Single humans, in one off events who we have understanding of, patience with, and compassion for. 

Regardless of age, gender, or race we can, when aware of a person's trauma history, make choices to support them as they develop systems and safeguards to move forward stronger and more skilled than ever. We as a nation, after a lot of years and painful resistance, have learned how to collectively love and honor those people, as they fit our definition and understanding of the phrase "trauma survivor".

But what about when its an entire race that is carrying that trauma? What about when that trauma is ingrained in your DNA, your oral and written history, in the blood your ancestors? What about when the trauma is currently happening, but is so ingrained it's not even on your radar, but instead is experienced as an underlying current of static discomfort?

I'm going to stop you right there before you tell me that slavery ended with people's grandparents, and the generational impact of racism by ownership is made up. I encourage you to educate yourselves on the history of slavery and ownership...there are dark secrets hidden in the fluffy folds of the American fabric. Also, there's about 10 years of documented research showing that trauma is passed on neurobiologically and neurochemically for up to three generations... so sometimes those fears that you experience that you can't explain, aren't yours at all, but you experience them anyway!

When trauma is triggered in individuals, a few things happen. Most of them are invisible to the human eye and the conscious human mind. In other words, changes take place, that most times we aren't aware of, but they result in an involuntary fight, flight, or freeze response. And then...well...who knows. (My behavior is about as unpredictable as New England weather in those situations, not sure about you.)

The initial response to others responding to trauma, for me, especially if I am unaware or not noticing, is to become defensive. "I didn't cause (fill in the blank) in you, why do I have to pay the price for what others did?" Even better, "will you calm down? Nothing is even happening right now!" or my personal favorite: "I thought we were past this....". 

As I am typing those sentiments, I see that it sounds a lot like white people responding to the black community. Doesn't it?

I'm going to stop you again, because I felt the hackles go up when I typed the last sentence. I'm not talking about individuals when I say white people. "You" can be a single person or a group, and my comments are directed at the group. I'm talking about a community. Society. The nation. 

Of course there are individuals that willingly and enthusiastically participate in racist activities. However, 98% of Americans don't, and no one is claiming they do. What people are claiming, is that the system, the government, the laws, the pay structure, the infrastructure, the educational system, the gerrymandering, the disparity in investment in the future of the youth, etc...needs an overhaul. A look-see. A redo. Not a go back...a move forward. The way that Germany did with the Jewish community...an acknowledgement and effort for reparations. 

You're right, I don't know anyone that was born into historic slavery, but I do know that our current laws are designed to enslave our most vulnerable populations. I know that people who do not have white skin are arrested, charged, and convicted at a higher rate percentage-wise than white people. And I know that everyone that lives in a prison, works for less than a dollar a day doing something to make my life, and yours, better. Making a license plate, making travel arrangements, training service dogs, cleaning trash on the highway...modern day government sanctioned, constituent supported work camps.

I know that when slavery ended, at least publicly, very few black American families had any accumulated or even foundational wealth. Similar to inmates leaving prison, they left with nothing in search of the American dream. Clusters of black Americans formed impoverished communities, because we set it up that way. 

And the way the system is designed doesn't stop a few from escaping and succeeding...like fish who escape a net. Funny that those are the few that you use to bolster the argument that change isn't necessary. 

However, it's the few that aren't part of a protest for revolution, that you focus on to bolster the argument that the black community no longer deserves to be heard. That the destruction, the riots, the outcry of generational pain and depression isn't worthy of hearing, because they're traumatic response isn't to our liking. 

The fact that people took advantage of their trauma, riding the backs of protesters to loot and damage communities, should make us stand together more committed to this fight than ever. These predatorial people who take advantage of humans who are in pain, are not part of a movement for our greater good, but for their own personal gain. Let's allow them to be the catalyst that creates some awareness for true and fundamental change.

The point is, that we are looking at a community who is experiencing trauma. They are searching for a way for their collective experience to be heard, seen, and honored. They have, en masse, "hit the deck"...and our job is to provide cover until they feel safe and protected...which is what you do when your own troops are under fire. You never leave anyone behind. ANYONE. EVER. 

Because this community, the black community, are part of our nation. They are part of the people that we fight for, die for, and we shouldn't stop fighting until they are equal. In every way. 

For now though, I believe we need to embrace the black community the same way we embrace soldiers coming home from war. With the knowledge that the trauma is still happening, and even though we may not see it, they're still feeling it...and the one thing I know we can do, is help them find their way to safety. Together.

Trauma.

What a powerful word, right?

Wednesday, February 5, 2020

We Created This

I will not join any of you today (or any day) in your bashing of our government, or its officials.
Not because I like what they do, what they stand for, or how they act...but because I believe we created this problem. They gave us what we wanted, and we are mad at them for acting that way.
We caused this.
The national addiction to sensationalism and headlines, the bloodlust and joy over watching people's destruction, the unabashed personalities that we encourage to get into the political ring, the fact that politics have become a financial and popularity contest rather than a serious search for skillsets and policy experience, the 24 hour news cycles, and of course...the self serving attitude that we won't vote for people that we disagree with even if they are better for the whole population.
We forgot that we are a nation of individuals, that we don't have a cookie cutter populace, that we have a myriad of wants, needs, and hopes, that we aren't a wild pack of animals protecting the king and allowing the picking off the weak for food...we are country that used to fight to raise our lowest and encourage them rather than design a world where they have no chance. They ARE us.
We worship all that costs money, and forget all that doesn't. It's a system of money talks which means that a lot people with good characters walk. Hell, we won't even let candidates debate if they haven't raised enough capital, as if only people with money get a voice in who gets elected. If the people you represent can't afford to keep up with the ones who support the opposition, you don't even get to go to the fight and try.
We encourage a two party system for a nation that has grown to a size and population our forefathers couldn't have imagined. They only represent two lines of thinking when there are thousands. They represent ideas under umbrellas, within boxes and without legal justifications only moral resistance without logical cause. We forget that the men who wrote the constitution would be equally as concerned at the fact that women and non white folks were allowed in the House chamber as they would be with gun laws. They would not have allowed such chaos or disregard for themselves.
We make race, sexual orientation, and gender more important than the person we want to vote for. People advocate for and against candidates based on those attributes alone, leaving out the relevant topics of experience and policy proposals.
We create laws to force people to behave the way we want. We make laws about morality and behavior that apply to only certain genders or skin colors.
We created them. Only we can change it.
The forest people....not the trees. Pelosi? Tree. Trump? Tree. The society we created? Forest.
We created this.

Tuesday, January 28, 2020

The helicopter crash heard round the world...and in my heart

A helicopter went down a couple of days ago on the coast of California. On board, there were nine people. A pilot (Ara Z), a family of three (John, Kerry and Alyssa), a kids basketball coach (Christine), A mom and daughter (Sarah and Payton) and of course a father and daughter who had considerable fame prior to the crash...Kobe and Gianna. 

As part of the world comes to terms with the sudden and unexpected loss of a basketball icon, others are up in arms over the other eight passengers and the sexual assault charges brought against Kobe in 2003. The latter is what prompted this blog post.

One of my jobs as a human is to pay attention to my physical indicators, or "sensations", when something doesn't sit right with me. Those feelings, that clench in my gut or increase in breathing, have been hitting fairly hard over the past few days as I see people negate Kobe Bryant as a victim because of his past accusation and acknowledgment in a sexual assault case in 2003. 

At first I was not sure what my problem was...after all, it is factual. Kobe was arrested, there was the option to go to trial or to settle and he settled, including a statement read in public in which he acknowledged that the woman did not experience their encounter as consensual. So, why does the focus on his sexual history bother me so much? 

I think it is because of my father. My complicated, painful, so full of love it breaks my soul open relationship that I had with my father, and now with his memory. That is no less complicated than the real deal, trust me. My father was my perpetrator when I was young. Now...he and I went to therapy, we worked through my childhood together...we literally walked through what we could together (mostly facts, I wasn't able to process emotion with him ever). We were not the norm, not the status quo. We were both involved in the 12 steps and we wanted to face our shit in hopes of recovery, and it mostly worked. Though to be fair, no matter the work that we did, there was no undoing the deed he had done. The history was there, still. It was never going to be gone...but it wasn't all there was to us.

My father was not in my life from when I was 12 until I was in my early 20s and he got sober. From there, he and I built a life as father and daughter. I spent a lot of years angry at him. Angry at his neighbor for telling me I was a bad daughter for not visiting more, when being alone in a room with him sometimes was all that I could do...and not for long at that. It was hard, but it was worth it. In the end, I was able to be present for my father as he died. And in that moment, the one where his soul left his body, it became unmistakably clear to me that I loved him. The feeling of love was like a floodgate had opened inside me, and washed over me in waves, it has continued to for three years. 

See? Complicated.

So, this week, a man died in a crash, he was one of nine that perished. He was the most famous, so his worst moment was famous also...and some people cannot get past his moment. SO, they post about it. Reminders, prompts. Putting his worst moment front and center...claiming there is no mourning for a man who has done such a disgusting deed. Forgetting he is a father, a son, a husband, he was a friend, a teammate, a person. Or maybe not forgetting. Perhaps just not caring.

Every time I read the comments about Kobe, I see them in reference to my father. I hear my friends saying my father dying is not a loss to the world. I hear them saying that only 8 people on that helicopter mattered and that the death of the last isn't relevant because of a history he owned over 15 years ago...and I hear them say that my father owning his behavior and trying to grow doesn't matter either.

I am not saying people should not post how they feel about Kobe dying, and their projected value of his worth. Everyone gets to experience things in their own way.  I am simply owning how I am experiencing the comments praising his death. I hear them as the daughter of an admitted sexual assault perpetrator. And my father was a man, who perhaps similar to Kobe, did not and does not deserve to be held down to his worst moments...



My thoughts and prayers are with all of the families, friends and associates of each of the victims in the crash earlier this week. 


Saturday, January 28, 2017

The aftermath

This morning, I burst into tears, but there was no obvious reason. Two hours later, after feeling internally agitated I decided to leave the house to try to work on my thesis. While walking through the door, I looked at Inga, and my eyes welled up again. I am not OK.

I want to believe that I am not alone in my anxiety, fear, and sadness right now. I need to trust that other people are watching what is happening in our country and are just as outraged as I am. I want the feelings that I am having to compel me into action, and yet I am finding myself paralyzed. I am overwhelmed with the conflict, I am sickened by the polarization, I am offended by the lack of empathy and compassion. I am afraid to see what is happening, and I am equally afraid not to. I cannot tear my thoughts away from the destruction of a nation I am a citizen of.

I am not afraid of my President, per se. I am afraid of bigotry. I am afraid of prejudice. I am afraid of intolerance. I am afraid of misogyny. I am afraid of extremists...not only the ones beyond our borders...but also the ones that I am watching within the boundaries of our country. I am afraid of ignorance. I am afraid of the apparent lack of desire or capacity for intelligent and honest debate. I am afraid of the lack of foresight. I am afraid of finances being put ahead of social progress. I am afraid of the divisiveness that I am witnessing. I am afraid of people trying to shut down others voices. I am afraid that we no longer are united.

I am sad...I am sad to the core of my body. I am sad that we are not looking at the consequences of OUR behavior. I am sad that women stood together last week and were belittled for it. I am sad that people are made fun of for being terrified. I am sad that people who already feel marginalized are trying to find a way to stay connected to a society that by and large lacks the basic capacity for understanding their marginalization. I am sad that we have to have secret groups on Facebook to feel safe in our expression of our beliefs. I am sad that I have people in my orbit that say things like "stop being a baby" when I express my fears. I am sad that I have to write blogs like this, to purge my heart so I can focus on my school work.

I am really struggling to find a sense of equilibrium inside my own body. I feel like I am being assaulted by my sensations.

It feels like I am being held hostage and I do not know how to negotiate for my own release.

As I look around, I wonder if other's are in hostage situations as well. Fearing disconnect for expressing their views, challenged by the onslaught of inaccurate reassurances, wondering who is going to insure that we will protect the rights of those with dissenting views, leery of the outcome of the actions that are being taken. I wonder if anyone else feels guilty for not being soothed even after 2 million people worldwide stood up for their voices to be heard, willing to fight on a global level to make sure that we continue to move forward rather than backward.

I am not a victim. I am not a baby. I am not hysterical. I do not need to get over anything. I will not be silenced. I will be sad for as long as I am, I will be afraid until I am not, I will not diminish or excuse my feelings for anyone else's comfort. I refuse.

I will stand, with pride, as the woman I am... a whole, feeling, thinking, acting, breathing human.


Thursday, January 19, 2017

One Simple Request

I have something to ask of you, and it is simple, but it is far from small.

Tomorrow, people in the United States will undergo a transition that we have all experienced before, the passing of the highest seat in the land from one man to another. There will be people who will find this to be a moment of celebration, and those who will experience grief, but we all have one thing in common, we are again entering the unknown.

The unknown is a frightening place for some and an exhilarating for others. The sensations in your body can range from "butterflies" to knots in your stomach, from racing thoughts to laser like focus, from tingling on your skin to numbness. We all express our response to those feelings in a way unique to us, in a way that in the past has kept us "safe" from the fear. We predict, project, blame, deny, look to our personal history for patterns, look to world history for patterns...we need to feel settled in "knowing".

We do not know though. We do not know what this Presidency will bring to any of us. Not one of us has the capacity to see the future, or to fortune tell. We may make educated guesses, and some will be right, others will be wrong, and we will have an opportunity to say "SEE!! I WAS RIGHT", but really it is just the way probability works. We will ALL be right and we will ALL be wrong, perhaps about different issues, but we will ALL feel the thrill and defeat of our thoughts and ideas.

One thing is for certain though, we are all in this together. Not just here in the United States, but our elected officials in the nation's capital impact the world at large. Our policies, our choices, our language, our economy, our education and health care impact all citizens, both here and abroad. The way we model behavior for our children, both on a political and personal front informs how they will interpret the world around them and the people in it. The way we treat others says nothing about them, it simply and wholly says a lot about who we are, and how we see ourselves.

I do not understand how some people view the world. I do not understand how some people view policies that I consider essential for the safety of women, Muslims, Hispanics, Black people, GLBTQ people, disabled people and all others who are perhaps different than them. I do not understand how people can hold their own interests over the good of the whole. However, I also do not understand why people who say they are interested in human rights are finding it acceptable to attack others based on their beliefs.

Over the course of the next 24 hours, and perhaps longer if you can...can you all please non-judgmentally hold space for what the people you encounter are feeling? To put that differently, can you take a moment to, in each of your encounters both on social media and in person, see that every one of us is human first? Can you ask WHY people are afraid, or even WHY they are not? Can you listen and respect their answers? Can you stop with the hateful language, the disrespectful posts, the angry exchanges? Can you find it in you to hear the opposition and sit with your discomfort during tough conversations about sensitive topics and show respect for the person who holds views unlike your own?

I know this is a huge ask. I invite you to notice how it made you feel inside to read this, and what perhaps made you bristle. Then I invite you to remember that you are not alone, there are things that make us all bristle...but it is going to take us truly hearing and respecting each other to make any true progress, and that is what we need right now.

I am afraid, not of what I know, but of what I do not. Tomorrow we embark on the unknown together, let's do it as equal humans with vast histories and rich experiences that influence our perspectives.

It is but one simple request.


Tuesday, November 15, 2016

I will not be silenced


This week has been a series of emotions for me...as hatred fills the air and seeps into the very fabric of our existence through social media, news outlets, public protest, and reports of crime being committed. I am watching strangers berate each other, family attack each other, lifelong friends choosing to walk away from each other. Never have I seen this level of discord, and it is coming from all camps. There seems to be no limit to the extent of this national reaction. And make no mistake, that is exactly what this is. A reaction.

As if it isn't hard enough to be afraid for the safety of the people I love, I am also afraid to blog now. I am afraid that I will be called a cry baby. Afraid I will be called a sore loser. Afraid you will tell me I have nothing to worry about. Afraid you will bully me, with your lack of empathy that you think is appropriate but is actually the equivalent of telling me to put on my big girl pants or walk it off. Afraid you will pick up your bullhorn and go off about the DNC, the RNC, and Bernie, blaming me for how things went down, even though you have absolutely ZERO idea how I cast my ballot. Afraid you will tell me I am being dramatic, even though every single thing I just said I was afraid of has already happened to me, on Facebook, in texts, in emails, in real life. I am going to ask you to refrain if that is your impulse, have enough respect for me to not put me down because you do not understand who or what I am actually afraid of.

Let's get one thing straight. I am not afraid of Donald Trump. Not as an individual. I am not afraid that he has enough charm or intelligence to woo our nation. I am not afraid of most people that voted for him. As a rule I am seeing that a lot of people who voted red did so for one or two specific reasons, and were overall unaware or didn't consider the possible ramifications of their choice. Most people that I know who voted for him are living under the "he would never do that" umbrella when it comes to issues such as women's health and gay rights. I believe them actually...Donald Trump has bigger fish to fry than if Inga has the right to visit me in the hospital while I am unconscious because it offends someone's religious beliefs to allow her to do that, or if we fall under the same Federal protections as our heterosexual friends who are married. But, again, I am not afraid of Donald Trump.

I want to take a minute to review what I am afraid of. I am then going to explain why. My shoes have only been worn by me, and have been through every situation with me, met every person in my life, heard every story, and witnessed acts so beautiful and so horrific that the idea of taking a breath becomes a challenge. Again, if you start feeling yourself getting defensive or on the verge of reacting, either close the window or take a moment to breathe through your discomfort before you decide you are going to act on your impulse to respond without being unconditionally supportive. I am not doing this for your blessing or your approval, I am hoping that my honesty will speak for the people you do not know, and perhaps inspire just a modicum of compassion and unity.

I am afraid of religious oppression. My heritage is divided 4 ways. I am 25% Irish, 25% French, 25% Polish and 25% Lebanese. That means I have ties to both Jewish and Muslim religions, directly. I have lineage that comes from Beirut, Warsaw and also from Belfast. I have visited two of the three cities, and explored the remnants of religious persecution as it directly relates to my family. I have stood in a gas chamber, and watched the walls close between the Catholic and Protestant sides of a city at sundown. I have spoken to survivors from both cities while standing on their soil, spent time with children who had food ration cards in their homes, broken bread with humans that can never fully describe what religious divide has done to them or their nations. I am afraid of religious oppression.

I am afraid of racism. I grew up one of two white grandchildren on my mother's side. I can remember one cousin visiting my hometown and being so uncomfortable with the way she felt there that she still hasn't been back, and it has been 40 years. I remember living in Atlanta, and being in a car with my friend Reuben and listening to the cop call him a stupid n** and telling me that being seen with him would put me in jeopardy. I work at BU, and have listened on countless occasions to students be told to speak English when they are in private conversations, the very students who will get a degree in their 2nd, 3rd, or 4th language. I have been caught in a Shriner's parade, and witnessed a KKK march while in northern Georgia. I am afraid of racism.

I am afraid of stop and frisk and mass incarceration. I am in the process of writing my master's thesis for Criminal Justice and have been researching ethical and just practices for years now. I consider the feelings that are associated with broken windows policing, and stop-and-frisk and on the surface they make sense, but if you did a little deeper, you find the undercurrents that cause division. Consider the neighborhoods where these policies are enforced. My neighborhood is primarily white, upper class, and liberal so I highly doubt stop and frisk will be instituted there. Lower class and disenfranchised neighborhoods tend to house minority populations who have experienced centuries of judgement and racism. Targeting these neighborhoods widens the gap between people rather than closing it. Discrepancies in sentencing based on race and gender have been researched for years. Women are more frequently imprisoned for moral crimes, and males for violent crimes. MORAL CRIMES. That is a real thing. Drug crimes are broken down by classification, most with federally or state mandated minimum sentences. For example, in most states the mandatory minimum for 5 grams of crack is the same for 5 pounds of cocaine. That brings socioeconomic status and race into the conversation. Although black people account for only 13% of the U.S. population, they are 40% of the incarcerated population...compared to white (non hispanic) folks, who account for 64% of the U.S. population and 39% of the incarcerated demographic. I am afraid of stop and frisk and mass incarceration.

I am afraid of homophobia. I can remember the feeling I had, that day...I was 31 years old, a teacher, and I got called into the principals office. I was let go...and in the most open display of prejudice I have ever experienced, told that being gay made me unsafe for the kids. 10 years earlier I had an administrator who told me she had spoken with her lawyer about me to make sure I would be protected. That was five years before I was denied service in a restaurant, and six years before I stood in front of my state senate and was told that the fact that I could be evicted from my home for my orientation was not a problem at all. I have visited assaulted friends in hospitals and survived being sexually assaulted by someone who thought I just had never had a "real man". I was at a bar in Connecticut six months ago, and asked Inga to not be offended that I would not sit next to her, because I felt physically unsafe. I have watched friends be denied access to ICU rooms and wedding cakes because the working personnel said it did not align with their religious beliefs. I am afraid of homophobia.

I am afraid of the reversal of Roe v. Wade. Before you balk...let's get real. Abortion has only been used by a select few as "birth control", or to terminate pregnancy where no preventative measures were taken. Cases with failed contraceptives, medical issues, sexual assault, or other extraneous circumstances account for a majority of abortions nationally. Late-term abortion, as described recently, is not a reality. Abortion at 9 months is frequently referred to as a c-section. Women who have to make the decision to have an abortion are often ridiculed, misunderstood, and verbally or physically threatened at some point regarding their decision. In states like Indiana, legislation has been passed (by Vice President Elect Mike Pence) to mandate that women who receive abortion services have to pay for and hold a funeral for the unborn fetus. I imagine that for me...when I was raped at 18 years old and got pregnant. How would I have managed the aftermath of being raped, the decision that I could not live with the pregnancy, and the addition of holding a funeral emotionally? I was not put in that situation, I had a miscarriage...but I know many of you just judged me before you read the next sentence. Without cause. And for most of you, without personnel experience. I am afraid of the reversal of Roe v. Wade.

I could keep going. Environmental issues. Education issues. Infrastructure issues. Economical issues. Really there isn't enough time for either of us to go through it all, so I cherry picked a few that really hit home with me. My feelings are valid, and you cannot shame me out of them. I am not burning down buildings, or putting down the opposition. I am not criticizing people's perspectives, or attacking your post election process. I am turning my fear and grief into action, and asking people from every party to join me. I am not afraid of Donald Trump. I am afraid of the uncertainty and rage that has suddenly become dominant in a country I love, and a land that my ancestors sought to be a part of for a better life for themselves, and ultimately for me. I am willing to fight for you. Are you willing to fight for me?

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Good grief

I am not sure how emotions got such a bad rap. When being sensitive became a character flaw. When crying became a sign of weakness. When anger became a thing to fear. Or when fear turned into a liability.

Over the past year I have done a lot of work to learn how to sit with the physical sensations that precede my reactions. That has been important because I label and judge emotion, and emotion is, after all...just a series of sensations.  Butterflies, sweaty palms, racing heartbeat...could be excited or frightened to death, right? Pausing and breathing after noticing sensations allows me to assess circumstances, and determine how I want to respond. For the most part anyway...it is a practice and I am in the infancy of trying it. 

The emotion of grief is particularly challenging for me. The heaviness in my heart, the stinging behind my eyes, the knot in my stomach...they are all not comfortable for me. Yet, they are a natural process by which my body is trying to let me know that I have sadness or grief to sit with. I think that grief is one of those experiences that I try to dodge, for fear that it will smother me. I will do anything to get away from it...none of which resolve it, but rather it gets stored in my body and come out in inappropriate and inaccurate expressions. The most common ways that it releases with me is in anger or isolation.

I know that not everyone expresses uncomfortable emotions the way that I do. I have met people that shop, drink, eat, drug, cut, clean, drive, exercise, and shut down to not sit in grief. I have been under the impression that grief is a choice, and that I can therefor choose to not have any. I have been told that grief is self-pity, that it is attention seeking, and that there are others who have it "worse than" me, and so I should get a better perspective. None of that is true.

My grief currently is related to noticing a shift in my relationships. I have changed a lot, my life has changed a lot, and the result is that my friendships have changed a lot. I feel disconnected from people that I have known for a long time and am struggling to connect with new folks. I feel generally awkward and uneasy in conversation, and struggle to rectify that. It has likely been this way since my father died, although I can not be certain of that. I am sure that such a significant loss resulted in not wanting to be close to people for fear of losing them.

Ironically, that is not how I think, and not what I want. It is simply what I have always done. To avoid grief, I avoid connection, which causes grief. Sitting with it is new for me. Allowing myself to be vulnerable and ask for what I need...a hug, a coffee date, a phone call. To engage in self-compassion and be aware that I do not need to isolate when I am sad, but instead have to reach out to the people I know love me.

I am almost excited about this...the idea that I can grieve and still be in relationship. I no longer need to hide from my grief, I have the option to embrace it, and even to use it to connect with others rather than disengaging. I have the ability to be honest and open with it, and stay embodied, present, and mindful that like all other sensations, these are temporary.

Who knew? Grief can be cleansing, freeing....good.