Lately, I find myself gasping for air in moments I don’t expect. The weight on my chest doesn’t leave, and sleep feels like a distant memory. The world around me is in chaos, and my deepest fears—fears I have carried long before now—are surfacing with every news item. The hostages. The unimaginable suffering. The images of people returning, broken but home. And those still left behind. And then there is my father, 52 years ago, a POW. His face, his story, suddenly merged into the faces I see now. Time collapses. The pain of history isn't distant; it lives in me, in every breath, in each part of my body.
Some wounds are never fully healed. They pass through us, carried silently in gestures, in whispers, in the way we flinch at certain news. I inherited my father’s fears before I even had words for them. And now, I see them unfolding before me, real and raw, and I am reminded that history doesn’t just live in books—it lives in us.
Holding On to Life, Even When It Feels Unsteady
And yet, in between all of this—there is life. A life to hold, to cherish, to fight for. Through all the heaviness, my husband’s love is my anchor—the steady presence that reminds me I am safe, that I don’t have to carry it all alone.
My children’s laughter fills the house, grounding me. Clients to work with, stories to hear, hands to hold. Art to create, because even in grief, there is creation.
I am learning that routine is everything. That gratitude, even in the smallest ways, is my anchor. That slowing down is not giving up—it is survival. That quiet nights, books, drawing, and simply being are not escapes, but ways of staying alive, of holding onto what is still good and safe.
I have learned to accept that I can carry pain and beauty at the same time—that the weight of history does not erase the light of the present. That I do not have to choose between grief and love.
Breathing Through the Unbearable
Some days, the world feels too heavy. And on those days, I remind myself: breathe. Not because it is easy, but because I must.
If you are struggling to find balance right now, I see you. How are you holding onto light these days?
"In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer." – Albert Camus
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