These reflections come from the questions, changes, losses, discoveries,
and ordinary moments that ask me to stop long enough to put words around them.
For much of my life, I didn’t really know what it felt like to be held. Over time, I came to understand that being held was not only physical. It was the experience of knowing I didn’t have to carry everything alone.
Re-membering was never about finding someone new. It was about gathering the scattered pieces of myself and bringing them home. What I didn’t expect was how much would change once I had to live with all of me here.
I entered ceremony asking for my body to heal. What followed brought me face to face with the way I had spent my life force, pushed past my limits, and mistaken survival for strength.
I had spent years creating things meant to offer other people warmth, safety, and the feeling of being held. It took a night in the hospital for me to understand what it meant to let that same care reach me.
