The past few days have been rough. A lot is going on with family, and some of the struggles I’ve battled have reared their ugly little heads, yet again. See the thing about trauma is you don’t truly overcome it. You learn to travel it like a well-worn path in high grass.

At times, the journey is easy, and I stop to admire the butterflies and hummingbirds zooming past me. Other days are stormy, and I’m lucky to pull my feet from the muddy path. What I’m learning is that both journeys are necessary. Both journeys are me.

I’ve had a lot of grief in my forty-two years. Some days, the sorrow is manageable, and I feel productive and positive. Many days it’s not. The sadness lingers behind my eyes, and I have to remind myself to take another breath. I’ve learned to not rush through those days because they hurt. Instead, I try to sit with the discomfort that only grief can bring, and in doing so, I try to learn from it.

I am sure that many of you who are reading this can relate. See, grief doesn’t just come with death. It is an overwhelming loss that permeates the soul. Whether it be the loss of a childhood, a dream, a relationship, or even a loved one, grief comes for us all.

Today, I refuse to run from it. Today, I choose to learn from it because grief is a teacher that comes with a price. A price that shows us the cost of love. And love is always worth it, even when it hurts.