There is no timeline to grief. One moment you’re fine, and the next it threatens to overwhelm you. It becomes a pressure cooker, demanding release or explosion.

A month ago, mine exploded in the form of panic attacks.

Once I realized the root cause of my panic attacks was unresolved grief, I was able to move out of the explosion danger zone and into the relative safety of periodic steam release territory.

Which is where I am today.

In this beautiful season of sadness.

Happiness and sadness are learning to coexist. I am learning to love my sadness as I love my happiness. I am learning how to grieve.

I am learning how to activate the steam release valve of my overwhelming emotions. Sometimes it comes out as tears because my pizza was covered in pepperoni instead of pineapple and I don’t eat meat. I’m not crying about the pizza, but the pizza was the steam release valve that allowed my tears to fall. I’m crying because even though I did everything right, it still went wrong. I’m crying because even though my four-year-old self did what she thought was right, she still experienced unspeakable trauma. That specific emotion is no longer boiling inside of me, thanks to a pepperoni pizza.

I cry a lot.

I walk a lot.

Walking is another way I’m able to release my emotional steam. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the physical act of moving. Maybe I’m able to get out of my head and take in the late summer flowers, the squirrels and crows hovering in the trees. It becomes a walking meditation for me. Each step digesting another bite of grief. How many steps will it take to get to the center of my grief? I don’t really want to know.

I have experienced seasons of sadness before. My freshman year of high school. I dyed my hair black. After the birth of my second child, though I didn’t realize it at the time. At the height of the #metoo movement. When I was 19, which was the last time my grief exploded. I didn’t know how to love my sadness then, but I did give it space and moved through it.

This time I choose to embrace my sadness. I choose to love the ever-loving stuffing out of it. I’ve carried it with me for 38 years. It’s about time we became friends.

I know this season won’t last forever.

I know that each tear and each step bring me closer to healing.

I know I will probably lie and say “all good” when asked how I am doing, but there will still be sadness in my eyes.

I know that happiness still there, hugging the ever-loving stuffing out of my sadness.

May you find the courage to love your sadness.

May you find the movement to free your sadness.

May we be a generation that learns to move through our grief.