When friends asked me to an event last November I couldn’t even vocalize what torment the thought of attending brought me. I felt like every name spoken could be my child, and I simply could not endure that thought. Not with others.

Ever since my father’s sudden and tragic death in 1981, I kept Loss under lock and key like a prisoner fearing it’s strength would consume me. There was a persistent, yet completely hidden darkness in me. Something I couldn’t shake after standing in the doorway watching him die. I never wanted to name it, or own it, like the various self-help books I consumed like snacks instructed me. I couldn’t possibly go near the dungeon where I held Loss in solitary confinement so why go searching for opportunities to allow it’s escape?

Only until my Reiki Master and I started to peel away the layers of understanding did I accept that these are my greatest life lessons, my biggest obstacles to growth, and I had to decide whether I would turn my back yet again or stand in the face of fear with arms wide open. I was done running, I knew it, so I let go.

I let go of the tape forever running in my head that said that everything and everyone will leave me. I let go of my father’s untimely passing. I let go of the abuse that prevented me from feeling. I let go of my programmed personal narrative telling me I could never be enough. I let go of pain, and said my goodbyes. And with all that newfound space I focused on one simple thing – love. Love for me, for you, for all of us.

Love. It’s my mantra. It’s my compass. It’s my fuel. It’s the reason I agreed to run a booth for PFLAG this year for the Transgender Day of Remembrance because I will no longer hide locked behind closed doors. I will go and celebrate every life lived. I’ll honor families and friends who supported their loved ones quest toward truth. I will be present, with my heart and arms open wide.

Near my bed I keep a worn metal bookmark a friend gave me years ago that says “Nothing is so strong as gentleness and nothing is so gentle as real strength.” Ralph W. Sockman. Every so often I look at it and peace swells within me.

During a life changing reiki session yesterday I learned that I was drawing strength from the wrong places, the places of fear. I wasn’t being courageous, I was reacting to the panic of imagining the worst possible outcome. From there I raised my fists ready to fight and lived defensively while the days stretched into weeks and then months. And here I am. Tired and sore from being on the lookout… for what I am not sure.

As I search my heart I think about what it means to be in hiding. Years ago I hid my feelings away and trapped myself in a type of shame that left me powerless. On the outside I felt that everyone was trying to crack the code, find my secret and expose me. It was an “us against them” type of scenario and I had to stay on top of things. What pressure for a young girl. My paranoia inspired me to lock as many doors between me and other people as possible.

As I settle into my skin years later I search for the keys in hopes of opening myself back up. Now I see so many parallels between my past and Hope attending school. I tell myself that I am not shoving the same type of secrets down her throat that rested in mine for over 20 years, but I still struggle sometimes. I’m not taking her away from her life, telling her to hide or teaching her about shame. I’m celebrating my daughter for who she is just the way she is. Doesn’t everyone deserve some level of privacy in their life without feeling that you have to answer to the world for who you are or where you come from?

Released from the burden of worry, my clarity is overwhelming and powerful. And my heart feels bursting with love. How did I move so far from this place? More than ever I feel my hope for the future radiate through me and spill from my fingertips as I write. Beaming yellow light burning brightly as a new day begins with gratitude and I open another door.