Another wrote in her journal, great long entries detailing her agony, her disbelief, her fear of where she would go from here.
I ran. Though I'd given it up for a few years, I suddenly found myself lacing up my runners each night after the kids were in bed. In part because the darkness hid my tears. In part because I just didn't know what else to do with the pent-up anger (well, I had a few ideas, but most of them would have landed me in prison!). And in part because running has always been a form of meditation for me thanks to the rhythmic pounding of feet on pavement.
These rituals of healing can be, quite literally, lifesavers. We re-discover our strength. Or our passion. We work out our boundaries, or devise our plan.
What have you done? Share your stories in the comments section...