I was a kid, young adolescent. A man was stabbed. I watched him bleed to death. And that changed my life. I kept telling him it would be ok. I told him he was loved. That night is both a movie and nothing more than an abstract series of still shots. Trauma is weird. It has a place in my body. It’s something I have and hold and carry. I know what this memory feels like.

Death really is all around us. People die everyday. Being at peace with death- that it is natural, that it is everywhere, and that some deaths will inevitably be violent- has been an essential part to moving forward.

I have also made space for my grief. I didn’t know this person that died but I was one of the last people they ever heard talking before they passed. I cut the article in the local paper that very briefly mentioned their death. I know this person’s full name. I know the date they died. I followed the court case and his killer was sentenced- and has since been released. All the details of this case that I have remembered and keep track of are a part of my grieving. I hold this person dearly, and I grieve them when they come to mind. Being at peace with my grief, and being accepting of its ongoing, unending, and quiet nature made my grief less disruptive and more peaceful. This person passed in and out of my life in less than an hour. I will remember them until I die myself. That’s ok.

I have learned and practice mindfulness, self-compassion, and grounding techniques. I regularly utilize cognitive redirection tools when the visual and somatic memory is overwhelming. As well as I do, I still sometimes struggle with using substances and experiences, such as working out, to numb myself and tune out entirely. What I saw was traumatic. It’s ok that I’m not always on a model citizen in my coping.

Every year I go through a period of intense grief, and depression, and despair. I anticipate this chapter, I prepare for it, I have informed my close friends and family members of what time of year is most difficult. I am supported by those I love more intensely at that time, simply because I was willing to be vulnerable. I admitted I needs help, and I communicated clearly and concisely how they could help. Their help makes me feel loved, and my willingness to ask makes them feel both loved and valued. It’s better for everyone involved. I used to get angry and push everyone away, I would isolate myself. Things were harder when I did that.

I hope this answers your question. And I hope this helps.