It is hard to feel alone. And in feeling alone, somehow, distance grows around us. A bubble of silence that only echoes our own thoughts floats us deeper into our own darkness. Our hands feel too heavy to raise up, our heads fall forward and we curl into ourselves.
If there is a label for our grief we can claim legitimacy. A death in the family, divorce, hunger, homelessness. But, how to explain the unexplainable heartbreak of exhaustion in a world busy chasing the momentary spotlight? How to define, alone in a world busy with social media connections?
For many, the pandemic has created new levels of isolation of, dis-connection. The on-line lives, forever smiling, successful, happy. How do we cry in the face of such perfection? We dare not, withdrawing deeper into our confusion. Deeper into our dark, personal questions. What is wrong with Me? What have I done Wrong? The spiraling path downward, until a light is forever lost...
Let us open the door to our grief and heartbreak. Let us tell the truths of our lives so our sisters can reach out their hands and bring us back from our aloneness. The power of women is in their shared history of love, pain and, truths. In our sharing, we triumph. I am reaching out my hand... Will you take it?