Allowing yourself to lose control is a strange feeling. To let my body freely scream, cry, fall to pieces on the ground. To laugh out of desperate shock and confusion and let that pull you down the hall until you catch yourself on a door frame and crumble to the floor. Letting myself hyperventilate into the dirty carpet because it felt good.

It felt free. I felt.

I could finally feel it all. A torrential storm exploding out of every corner, belief, assumption I had tried to store it in. It couldn’t fit in these places anymore. It belonged in my tears, in my breath, on my skin. It belonged out, acknowledged and gently cared for. It belongs with the love and joy. There is room for grief.