Many years ago when I thought I knew everything, I told a therapist it was too late to grieve things from my childhood. The whole notion seemed silly to me. Well.  Now I see that there is no past. No future. Just this eternal now. My backpack gets heavy, and it’s not too late to grieve. I can still sit with it and then let it walk on its own now. Those old traumas are not my enemies. They’re just parts of me. They don’t go away. Maybe my understanding of them changes.

A shadow falls and then the light comes back. 

I think trauma is disappointment.  I thought I wanted this or that, or to go here or there. They were never meant to be. I know this because they didn’t happen. 

If there was a past, I can see how it results from this now. I just have to remember to present my response in the form of a question.