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I recently had a milestone birthday. I have officially crossed over to be a seasoned older

woman. I am that age, you know the age, the age you never thought you would be.

The Advot Project has a new brand. We are now called Advot, no longer a project.

We have a beautiful new website that I am insanely proud of www.advot.org

We just had our annual community event; we honored a brilliant trans young man

who was incarcerated in an all-girls lockup facility. He bravely chose not to fight the

system but to be true to himself and unapologetically be who he is.

ALL this and more has been my life in the last few months.

So much learned. Many nuggets of wisdom in this whirlwind of events.

What I know to be true is that:

1. If you don’t take care of your body, it will come back to bite you.

2. You don’t need lots of friends; you need a few that will be there for you.

Someone to hold the tears of your anxiety. Another one to stay up all night and help you redirect your child’s canceled flight without thinking twice about it. Someone to host your birthday party in a year when all you want to do is stay in bed.

3. You should hire nice people, the ones that will bring you chocolate when things hit the fan, those who WILL get what needs to be done without being told how to do it.

I am extremely lucky to have a fantastic team and extraordinary girlfriends. 

I have said this before and I will say it again. My students, the ones who people like to put in the shadows, the ones whom society loves to ignore, dismiss, and put on the sidelines, are my wisest teachers. They never, never fail to amaze me.

“Ms.,” she said with sad eyes. “I don’t need a lot of people, just one or maybe two to be there for me. I learned that inside, when I was locked up. I kept to myself and made sure to have my one person. We looked out for each other. Sometimes you need someone to hold your stuff – not stuff stuff, Ms., the stuff you can’t see. You know, to let ya breathe for a moment.”

She stood up and showed us. “You take it, hand it to that homegirl who got you.”

She pretends to hand something to the woman near her. “You jump up and down and then take it back,” she says. “You need somewhere to park the shit for a moment. Ya know, Ms.? Sometimes, if you park the shit somewhere else, you can deal with it better after. You feel me?”

“Yes, I do,” I tell her.

Park the shit somewhere else, breathe, very smart!

“I got me a homegirl that I know I can count on. Everyone needs one like that.”

Someone from the back of the room piped in, “You can’t trust no one – NO ONE!

Hold your shit. It’s yours. No one can take it from you and you can’t trust no one-- just yourself.” 

“That’s sad,” I say.

“It’s true,” the person from the back added. “People will stab you. Trust no one.”

“I don’t want to not trust anyone,” I say. “That is not a good way to live. I’d rather be disappointed sometimes and then surprised sometimes by people than choose just not to give anyone a chance.”

“Oh, Ms., you probably go and give people like a dozen chances to treat you nasty.”

Everyone laughs.

“Hey,” I say. Someone comes to my defense. “She takes no shit.”

“Here is the deal,” I say. “Trust is tricky, but you need to be generous with it – not stupid.

Say yes to taking a chance. Life is hard and it is harder to walk it alone. Find your people or your person. Don’t be afraid and do not try to do it alone. Loneliness is hard.”

“Ms., did I not say to share the shit?”

We all laughed again.

Yes, to sharing the shit.

As I was walking out of the building, I stopped in front of the big TV in the lobby.

 It was blasting more of the horrific news going on in this world.

I stood there, my heart once again breaking into a million pieces.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and then he leaned in and said, “These are your people, right?” I didn’t say anything, just nodded. “OK,” he said and without saying anything else, he gently walked me out to my car and gave me a huge hug, “I got you,” he said.

I don’t even know this man’s name. I see him every week when I come into the building.

He is part of the security team. We laugh, we high five, and that is it. 

We see each other and that is what it is actually about. Seeing each other.

“I got you,” he said again.

“You OK to drive?” he asked me.

I sigh. I look at him and nod.

“I’m OK. There is a lot going on now.” My eyes welled up with tears.

He reached his hand out and said, “Put some in my hand.”

I pretend to. He pretends to take it and throw it into the wind.

At this point, tears are streaming down my cheeks.

“I know,” he says.

I know he does and that helps.

He taps me on the shoulder and waves. “Be safe.”

I smile and drive off.

Share the shit. It doesn’t make it go away. It just makes it easier to carry.

On days when the load is heavy, that in itself is a blessing.