I’ve shed a lot of tears this past week. Texts and calls from friends reaching out to see if my family and I are okay after the shooting in Boulder open me up, but I welcome them. People ask if I knew anyone who died in the shooting that left 10 families one short. It’s hard to be vulnerable in these exchanges. But I am honest with the ones I trust. I tell them that I’m on the verge of crying all the time. That my family life is in tatters. That I feel like a failure.
I am disappointed that, after a year of COVID, we are back to the business as usual of Mass Shootings in America. It’s almost unbearable, but humans are persistent. We hold on, white knuckling our lives and wondering why we are collectively suffering yet so alone.
It’s more than the shooting, of course… it’s a year of loneliness, isolation and constant, low-grade anxiety. I’m hanging on by a spider’s thread. Sometimes the web of friends and family support catches me. Sometime the strand breaks and I tumble into sadness.
A favorite yoga teacher said today, “I don’t want to be a resentful old bitch.” “Yes!” flew out of my mouth before I even knew I was talking.
In the face of gun violence and a pandemic that has changed all of us, I’m encouraged to share, to be vulnerable, and to hug the ones I love. I’m grateful for second chances. I’m grateful for human connection. I’m grateful for moments when I feel soft and vulnerable instead of hard and crusty. I don’t want to end up a resentful old bitch.