This one’s going to be a little different, and maybe a little long, but stick with me. I do have a point to make.

Long-time readers know that I support the arts. I believe that artistic expression, in any form, can shine a light on the human experience, connect people in unexpected ways, and inspire them.

Long-time readers also know that one artist I follow and am friends with is Tony Award–winning singer, songwriter, and actor Levi Kreis. I first became familiar with Levi in 2005, when he appeared on a reality TV show. I was immediately drawn to his talent, and I knew this was someone I should follow.

Little did I know that ten years later, he would be crowd-funding for an album, and I would commission him to write and record a song in my late husband’s memory. After many conversations about tone, our histories, and who Bob was, Levi and I formed a friendship. The result of those conversations was Legacy. After hearing the song for the first time, I knew there was no one else who could have captured the essence of Bob the way Levi did.

I’ve been a friend of Levi’s for eleven years now, and a fan even longer, so when he shared that he had written an autobiographical musical called Already Perfect, I knew I wanted to support him and see it as soon as it was staged.

I did that a few weeks ago, flying to London to watch two performances during previews. Turning the corner into the theater waiting area, he bumped into me, not knowing I was going to be there. “What are you doing here?” I jokingly said as his eyes filled with surprise, and we embraced after not seeing each other in person for a few years. Surprise.

So I sat in the audience that first night, proud of my friend for following his dream and enjoying the incredible music, cast, and performances. It felt like everything was right that first night. The second night, though, the performers really hit their stride, and I found myself very emotional, weeping at times.

I’m the type of person who is emotionally invested in my friends. Watching what my friend went through as he performed his “character,” I hurt for him.

You see, this autobiographical piece was about a Levi I never knew — a former version of my friend. The Levi I do know was confronting his past and the life that led him to this point in his story. I won’t go into the details, including his hard-fought sobriety (those stories are available online if you want to know), but the Levi I didn’t know had a great deal of trauma in his life. At one point in the show, he confronts a simple but powerful reality: all the choices young Levi made, all the circumstances, all the traumas, led him to this moment — becoming a Tony winner in 2010.

Now, here’s where I bring it together.

Watching Levi do this on stage reminded me of something important: we cannot simply ignore the trauma in our lives, which includes loss and grief. My mission here is to Inspire Transformation — transforming living in grief into living with grief, transforming loss into a catalyst for change and the ability to live life again.

This show is about Levi transforming the trauma of his life into healing and finding life again.

Levi declared his truth and put it all on display in a full theater. He confronted the trauma in his life. He didn’t skip any of the hard stuff. He did what I advocate for and wrote about in Grief Recovery for Adults: he Perceived Reality (the first step in the PURPOSE framework). He then Unloaded the Emotional Baggage (the U).

After the second night’s performance, I told Levi, “Our trauma informs us; it doesn’t define us.” As I found meaning in my two losses, Levi found meaning in confronting his past — two different stories with the same desired outcome: transforming our trauma from something that defines us into something that informs us.

Here’s the thing: we need to deal with our trauma in order to move forward with intention. I see many people redirect themselves and avoid dealing with the pain of past decisions, past actions, or past injuries — or blame others for choices they, themselves, have made — and then feel surprised that they’re not moving forward, that they’re still mired in the pain of the past, unwilling or unable to see beyond those events.

Yesterday marked the twelfth anniversary of Bob’s death, so I’ve obviously been focused on that piece of trauma in my own life.

One thing loss has unexpectedly given me is a deeper emotional connection to the people I love. I don’t skim the surface with friendships. I feel them. And sitting in that theater, watching my friend lay his life bare, my soul ached — for the pain he endured, and for the courage it took to face it.

So here’s my challenge to you this week: think of one thing you’ve been avoiding dealing with. It doesn’t need to be huge. Maybe it was the bully in middle school who teased you about your weight, your hair, or anything that made you feel “less than” and still lingers. Maybe it was the loss of your pet turtle when you were seven. Maybe it was the girlfriend who broke your heart in high school. Maybe it was losing a spouse (or two), a sibling, a parent, or a job you loved. Maybe it was losing your innocence when you realized someone you admired wasn’t perfect. Maybe it’s regret over a choice you made. Maybe it’s the judgment of others — the glares and comments for not meeting their standards.

Then ask yourself: What do I need to do to let this go, or how can I carry this differently?

And if you’re looking for bonus points, start doing something about it — a support group, a therapist (R: Reach Out for Support), or finding a way to express yourself and work through the pain.

You deserve a life not defined by your trauma. You deserve to live your life unburdened by the past.

As for me? I don’t have all my stuff figured out either, but I keep working on it. You may have noticed over the last several months that I’ve been focusing more on challenging my judgments and self-doubt. Every day.

And if judgment from others is part of your past trauma, maybe — just maybe — you have nothing to prove.

Because you’re Already Perfect.

Special thanks to Levi — my friend, I love you, and thank you for sharing your story and continuing to touch my soul. Thanks to Iffy and Killian for helping breathe life into it, for inspiring this post, and to Jason for being a North Star.