I am learning to trust myself, those I love, my community.

For a very long time, although so many people count on me, I have struggled with allowing myself to be fully seen, known and loved. I have struggled with trust that when I was in need, people would hear my cries, see my tears, hold my pain.

But there are moments in life when, without the support of others, there is little else that helps us endure.

These past two weeks have been among the hardest in my life (and I have had many, many hard weeks).

But these weeks have also been my teachers.

In these two weeks, I have strengthened the bonds I have with my community, with those I love deeply, even, to a degree, with complete strangers.

I have learned to trust my voice, my intuition, my feelings.

I have learned to listen to the wisdom that my body holds (thanks to my dear friend, Leigh, for the reminder that our bodies hold wisdom we may not understand) even when that wisdom is confusing and feels unbearable.

I have learned to speak the truth and trust that it will reach the right people.

I have learned to reach out, to be embraced, seen and loved.

I have learned to trust love, even when it is painful and feels unbearable.

I have learned to accept help (I’m still working on it), and to trust that even when I can only respond with a heart emoji or maybe not at all, that in the act of demonstrating love, the people who are showing their love will know that they are making a difference.

I have learned to listen to my community’s solidarity.

I have learned that so many people see me and will show up for me, privately and publicly.

I have learned that sometimes I cannot do anything “productive.” The feelings of helplessness are the most overwhelming.  But productivity is a construct, and survival is a necessity.

I am learning that in those moments, there is nothing to do, there is only being and trusting, and the next step will reveal itself.

I have learned that although I have made many mistakes, I am not the sum of my faults or my regrets. I do not need to make up for my imperfections. It is my imperfections that make me human.

And it is my humanity that touches the truth in others.

My friend, Ale, says that I am someone who makes lemonade from lemons. It is true, I suppose that I often try to turn the bitter into the sweet.

There is so much to be bitter about. There is still so much pain. There is still so much senseless violence.

But I will continue to draw from my humanity to try to connect with the humanity of others.

It is all I know.

And in a dehumanizing world, it is my greatest act of resistance.

Breathe.