It’s one of those memories that’s so imbedded in my mind’s eye that I remember what I was wearing. My outfit, of course, meticulously planned and executed, was a critical piece of the mosaic of that day.
And so was my makeup. At fifteen years old, the fact that I had recently been granted permission to wear mascara and clear lip gloss was more than a rite of passage. It was a desperately craved form of expression, yes, but moreover, it felt like a gateway to the future me.
Why is it so hard to admit the feelings that arise when we acknowledge that for many of us, things we had worked years to build – be it relationships, businesses, or, yes, lifestyles – effectively have been dismantled without a moment’s notice?
Where is the grieving? When do we get to talk about what we’ve lost?
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