“Both Realities Can Coexist”

~What I’m Learning About Being Alive ~

Opening Reflection

Is it just me, or does being alive in 2026 feel… different?

Not because the world suddenly changed, but because I did. Or maybe, more truthfully, because I am changing.

No matter our age, identity, or season of life, I believe we are all learning what it means to become ourselves. Slowly, trial and error, every day.

We grieve. We evolve. We outgrow. We rediscover. We hide. We return. We break open. We begin again.

And somewhere within all of that, we spend our lives gathering layers. Layers of experiences, relationships, identities, losses, joys, fears, memories, and versions of ourselves that continue shaping who we are becoming.

As conversations around Pride, visibility, authenticity, and identity begin to bloom this June again, I find myself thinking less about the certainty of who we are and more about coexistence. About how many realities can (co)exist within one person at the same time? About how healing is not always linear, and how being alive often means learning how to hold complexity with care but also with patience, a lot of patience!

And perhaps that is what I’m learning about being alive: both(or many) realities can coexist.

The Layers We Carry 

We carry the child and teenager we once were, the versions of ourselves that learned how to survive, the parts of us that loved openly, the parts that learned to hide, the dreams that shaped us, the heartbreaks that softened us, and the people who left fingerprints on our lives along the way.

For a long time, I believed healing meant becoming someone entirely new. Stronger, more certain, or less affected by the things that once hurt me. But lately, I no longer think healing asks us to abandon any part of ourselves.

I’m actually discovering that healing may be a part of a lifelong process of learning how to integrate every version of who we have been.

Not every version of us was meant to remain in the same form. Some versions were created out of necessity. Some emerged during seasons of fear, silence, uncertainty, or survival. Others appeared during moments of love, liberation, connection, or transformation.  

 And still, every single one of those versions carries wisdom, and it is so valuable! 

Maybe becoming is less about reinventing ourselves and more about weaving together the many layers we’ve gathered throughout our lives, including people. 

What a gift it is to realize that none of us exists in isolation! We shape one another constantly, often without even noticing it. Through love, grief, friendship, family, community, loss, care, and presence, we become part of each other’s unfolding.

Maybe that is why growth can feel both beautiful and painful at the same time.

Because becoming is not only about discovering who we are. It is also about carrying the traces of everyone who helped shape us along the way.

Grief Beyond Physical Death 

Before working in end-of-life spaces, I think I understood grief in the way many people do: as something that arrives after physical loss. A response to death, and an emotional aftermath tied to someone no longer being physically present.

But life has taught me that grief is far more expansive than that. Sometimes grief arrives quietly, long before anything has physically ended.

From my point of view, one of the most difficult truths to accept is that transformation can carry grief, too. Even when it is necessary, beautiful, and ultimately brings us closer to the next version of ourselves.

Some deaths happen while we are still alive.

Not literal deaths, but emotional, relational, and personal endings that ask us to release old ways of being. Parts of ourselves that once protected us. Narratives we thought would last forever. Versions of ourselves we believed we would always remain. And still, releasing them can hurt.

Many people experience these griefs silently because society often validates grief only when it can clearly identify what was lost. A person, a funeral, a visible ending. But grief is not always that easy to name. Sometimes grief simply comes from realizing that life is constantly moving, that we are changing with it, and that not everything can come with us into the next chapter.

And yet, there is something deeply human about honoring those invisible losses instead of pretending they never mattered.

The Courage to Be Seen

There is a particular kind of vulnerability that comes with allowing ourselves to be seen as we truly are.

Not as the version that feels safest, not as the version that keeps everyone comfortable, not as the version shaped entirely by expectation, survival, or fear.

But as our full, evolving, imperfect selves.

To be seen honestly often means accepting that we are still becoming. That we do not have every answer. That identity, healing, relationships, and even our understanding of ourselves may continue shifting throughout our lives.

And maybe that is why authenticity can feel both liberating and terrifying at the same time.

As Pride Month arrives each year, I also find myself thinking less about perfection and more about truth. Less about having ourselves fully figured out and more about permitting ourselves to continue unfolding.

As a queer woman, I know what it feels like to slowly uncover parts of yourself that were once hidden for survival, protection, or belonging to an inherited structure. I know what it feels like to wrestle with visibility, vulnerability, and the deep human desire to be loved without abandoning yourself in the process. But honestly, many people understand this feeling in different ways. And that mis amigos, is perfectly ok.

That is what Pride is essentially about. About the courage to exist truthfully despite the many ways the world may ask us not to or would condemn us for.

Pride and grief can coexist so naturally.

Because to live authentically often requires grieving the versions of ourselves we created in order to survive environments where authenticity did not always feel safe.

And yet, within that grief, there can also be freedom. Maybe being fully alive means allowing all of those layers to integrate and exist together as a whole. 

Both Realities Can Coexist 

For so much of my life, I also thought healing meant eventually arriving at a place where everything finally would make sense. A place where grief disappeared, uncertainty softened almost completely, and the contradictions within me somehow resolved themselves into clarity.

I've probably been limiting myself on that… And probably healing and being alive have asked something different from us all along… Presence.

The willingness to remain present to life even while carrying so much complexity.

Because both realities can coexist.

We can grieve and still feel grateful. We can miss what was and still welcome what is becoming. We can feel heartbreak and still recognize beauty. We can carry uncertainty and still move forward with love. We can feel deeply connected to others while still learning who we are ourselves.

Life does not pause simply because we are grieving, and grief does not mean life has disappeared. They exist together.

Joy still finds us in ordinary moments. Laughter still returns unexpectedly. Connection still happens. Love still surprises us at the most unexpected time and place.
New versions of ourselves continue emerging, even after seasons that once felt impossible to survive.  

 Maybe this is simply what it means to be human. Maybe that is the quiet beauty of coexistence. 

Moving Forward

You can tell how much I’ve been thinking about what it truly means to be alive, right?

And I still don’t have a final answer, which makes me feel excited and even more alive, to be honest!

So far, I know that I don’t want to simply exist; I want to live consciously within the constant unfolding of who I have always been in essence, who I am, and who I am becoming.

None of us is meant to remain the same! We are meant to keep evolving through every season, every relationship, every heartbreak, every moment of joy, every truth we uncover about ourselves and about one another.

Whether you celebrate Pride this month or not, whether you raise flags for other causes or not, no matter where we come from, what we believe, or how we identify, how about we give ourselves permission to keep changing, unfolding, integrating, and becoming?

Let’s acknowledge our grief without letting it harden us. Let’s remain open to connection, even after disappointment or loss. Let’s keep in mind that becoming is not a destination we finally arrive at, but a lifelong process of each version of ourselves (and others) integrating to co-exist.

And let us all remember that we are all connected through this sacred shared human experience of becoming. We are all carrying layers. We are all learning. We are all weaving together the many pieces of our lives into something more whole, more honest, and more deeply alive.

This June, Pride reminds us of the beauty and courage of living more visibly and authentically, even in the midst of grief, fear, or uncertainty. And let’s never forget - as we continue moving forward - that:

Both(many) realities can coexist.