Journal Entry 11.20.23

I do not fear that I have succeeded in killing off my grief. I have not overcome it. It has become part of the fabric of who I am, it is not dead, but it is not actively causing harm to me anymore. Grief as a fabric is the background to my story. It is the drop cloth, the back drop, the context of the map I have created and the repairing I will continue to do. I feel free from its throat throttling clutches, but to be free of grief would be to still be defined by it. My grief is me and I am my grief; we are woven into one. But I am so much more.