More than 100 firefighters battled a 5 alarm fire at Lincoln Avenue School near 18th and Lincoln in Milwaukee.
It was almost impossible to comprehend just how massive this fire truly was.
It felt unbelievable.
Tragedy struck Milwaukee this week.
By the time you’re watching this, it will already be the following week, but the impact of this loss is still deeply felt.
I woke up to the news that my elementary school was on fire.
It was one of the biggest fires I have ever seen.
And not only was it still actively burning, but it had also escalated into a 5 alarm fire.
It was massive.
The steel beams had collapsed because they could no longer hold the structure.
That meant the fire itself had reached over 1,000 degrees.
It was a complete and total loss.
You might be wondering, Amy, why are you sharing this with me?
Because the hardest part wasn’t watching a building burn down.
The hardest part was being cracked open to wounds I didn’t realize were still there.
Wounds I didn’t even know existed.
Sometimes tragedy presents us with an opportunity to heal, and healing old wounds often begins in moments like these.
For me, this school was my safe haven.
It was the one place where I felt completely safe.
There were teachers, administrators, and staff who loved me, cared about me, and wanted me to feel protected.
And it wasn’t just a sanctuary for me.
It was a sanctuary for so many children.
I grew up in the inner city.
The building was so old that it had been grandfathered in without fire sprinklers.
When the fire started, it spread quickly and fiercely, becoming a 5 alarm fire that devastated the entire community.
It took more than eight hours to put it out.
It was devastating.
My sister called me, and I couldn’t stop crying.
At first, I didn’t understand why I was crying so much.
But then I realized I had left pieces of my soul in that building.
I used to cry every day at school.
I cried because I was sensitive.
I cried because I was an empathic sponge.
I cried because there was so much happening inside my home.
There was trauma.
There was tragedy.
And school became my sanctuary.
It became the place where I felt safe, something that became an important part of healing childhood trauma.
When we experience trauma, opportunities often arise, sometimes in the most unexpected ways, for us to remember.
To remember the hurt.
To remember what we’ve buried.
For me, this school wasn’t just a safe haven.
It was also a place where parts of me fractured because of my environment, my circumstances, and my family experiences.
And I am still deeply sad.
This school was built in 1907.
It stood for well over a hundred years.
It served generations of children.
I feel sadness for the kids losing their space.
I feel sadness for the families.
I feel sadness for the teachers, staff, and administration.
And I don’t know if they will ever be able to rebuild it.
This place offered sanctuary.
And we need places like that.
I want you to think about where your sanctuary was growing up.
If it was your home, I think that is beautiful.
My home was not my sanctuary.
School was.
School was my safe haven.
And I allowed the tears to flow.
Because in doing so, I could gather the fragmented parts of myself that had been left behind all those years ago.
I could bring those pieces back home.
And I could process the hurt.
The sorrow.
The shame.
The grief.
The anger.
The sadness.
The disbelief.
Whatever emotions I had buried back then, including Unresolved childhood grief, I hadn’t yet acknowledged.
Whatever I had left at school.
On the playground.
Inside the bricks.
Inside the floors.
Teachers have an incredible way of helping cleanse the soul.
They create spaces where we can feel safe enough to become who we are meant to be, which is why healing childhood trauma often begins in places where we once felt protected.
I am grateful I had that sanctuary.
And I feel so sad knowing it may no longer be available to the community for a very long time.
When I explained this to my sister, I think she was surprised by how emotional I was.
But it goes much deeper.
It goes much, much deeper.
We all have deeply buried wounds.
And when life presents us with an opportunity for those wounds to surface, will you allow yourself to grieve?
Will you allow those wounds to fully crack open?
Because when you do, you free yourself.
You free yourself from trapped energy.
You free yourself from the heaviness stored inside your body.
And you allow your soul fragments to return home.
I know this isn’t my typical podcast episode.
But I think this is an invitation to slow down.
To ask yourself where you have buried pieces of yourself.
To ask yourself if you are willing to release what has been hidden.
And to ask yourself if you can permit yourself to be sad.
Because grief is part of being human.
Grief means we have loved.
Grief means we have felt anger.
Grief means we have experienced confusion and disbelief.
Grief is a dance.
And if we are living fully, we will experience it many times throughout our lives.
Because it means we have loved deeply.
And sometimes we have had to let go.
I know I could have stopped my tears.
I could have said it wasn’t convenient.
I was about to take my daughter to school.
But I couldn’t.
I had to let it all out.
Sometimes grief comes through tears.
Sometimes it comes through sounds.
Sometimes it comes through anger.
Permit yourself to move it.
Because if you don’t, you continue carrying what was never meant to stay trapped inside of you.
When I really sat with what I was feeling, I realized that a cherished piece of my childhood had burned to the ground in the 5 alarm fire.
And while I cannot get it back, I can honor what once was.
I can appreciate what shaped me.
I can be present with what is arising.
And through that, I can step into my sovereignty.
I can remember who I am.
And we all have that opportunity.
So the next time something rises to the surface, permit yourself to grieve.
Allow yourself to be in the experience.
Allow the tears to flow.
Allow the sounds to flow.
Because in doing so, you offer yourself an incredible gift.
And that gift is your sovereignty.
That gift is your remembrance.
With love and blessings,
Amy Robeson
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Tragedy hit in Milwaukee this week. When you’re watching this, it will be the following week. I woke up to the news that my elementary school was on fire, the biggest fire I have ever seen. And not only was it currently still on fire, it was a 5-alarm fire. It was gigantic. The steel beams collapsed under the gravity of the situation. It can no longer hold its structure. So that means the fire itself was over 1,000 degrees. It was a complete total loss. And you might go, Amy, why are you sharing this with me? The part that was the hardest for me was being cracked open to wounds I didn’t realize were still there, wounds that I didn’t even know existed. Tragedy sometimes offers the opportunity to heal. This school was my safe haven. It was the one place I felt absolutely safe. I knew there were Teachers in there, there was administration staff in there that always not only loved me, cared about me, and wanted me to be safe. And that was a safe haven for a lot of kids. I grew up in the ghetto. This is inner city. The building was so old, it was grandfathered in to not have fire sprinklers.
So therefore, when the fire illuminated, it caught fast and it was furious. It went through the building and it took them over 8 to 10 hours to put it out. My sister called me and I was crying. I couldn’t stop crying. Wan, I was crying because we bury things inside of us and I didn’t realize I left pieces of my soul in that building. And when it was burning down and the tears started flowing, I could feel that there was parts of me and that I would cry every day at school. And I would cry because I was sensitive. I was crying because I was an empathic sponge. I would cry because there was just a lot going on in my household and a lot of tragedy and a lot of trauma. This school was a safe place for me. When we have trauma and when we have tragedy, for the lack of a better word, there are always opportunities that will present themselves sometimes in the most inopportune ways for us to remember, remember the hurt, remember what we’ve buried. And for me, not only was this school a safe haven, this was also a place where I fractiled because of my environment, because of my situations, because of my family trauma.
And I was so sad, and I’m still so sad. Like, this school was built in 1907. It’s over 100 years old. It’s in the inner city. This is a safe haven for a lot of kids. I feel sad about the kids losing their space. I feel bad for the families. I feel bad for the administration, the school. God only knows if they’re gonna even be able to rebuild it. And this was a school that offered sanctuary, and we need places like that. I want you to take a moment and think, like, where was your sanctuary growing up? And if it was your home, I think that’s amazing. My home was not my sanctuary. School was my sanctuary. School was my safe haven. I let the tears flow because by doing so, not only could I gather my fractiled energy that was displaced many years ago in that building, that I could bring those fractiles back to me, and then I could actually process the hurt, the sorrow, the the shame, the grief, the anger, the sadness, the disbelief, whatever the emotions were back in the day that I buried and left at school, on the playground, in the bricks of the building, in the floors.
Teachers have an amazing way of cleansing the soul, cleansing the physical body to make space for what actually is here to be embodied. I’m grateful to have that safe haven, and I feel so sad that it’s no longer available to the community, and it won’t be available maybe never or for a very long time. I was explaining this to my sister because I think she was a little caught off guard too by how sad I was, but it goes much deeper. It goes much, much deeper. We all have wounds like deep buried wounds within us that when the opportunity comes up, will you give yourself permission to grieve? Will you give yourself permission to allow those wounds to fully crack open? Because when you do, you free yourself. You free yourself from the turmoil, the energy that’s just off, the energy that’s trapped in your body so that fragments of your soul’s can come back to you. I know this is not the normal type of podcast, but I think that this is an amazing opportunity to like actually slow down and like think about where and what have you buried, and can you give yourself permission to open up to the possibility of releasing what was buried?
And then can you give yourself permission to be sad? Because that’s a part of grief. Grief is a complicated experience that we have the honor of experiencing as a soul having a human experience. Grief means we’ve loved. Grief means we’ve been angry. Grief means we’ve been confused, in disbelief. Grief is a dance that if we’re doing life right, we will experience many times in our lifetime because that means we’ve had things we’ve loved and we’ve had to let go, or they have been taken away from us. And the more that we actually befriend grief and dance with it and explore what’s coming forward, the more we free ourselves and we get to embody our true essence. And I know for me, like, I could have like stopped my tears, right? I could have said, no, I’m not going to do that today. I’m about to take my daughter to school. That would be really inconvenient. And I know so many people do that. And I couldn’t. Like, I had to give myself full permission to just let it all out. And that can sometimes be like guttural sounds, tears, wanting to hit something. Give yourself permission to get it out, because if you don’t, you’re only continuing to harm yourself, and that’s not appropriate.
My tears were so multi-dimensional, and I could rationalize immediately why I was crying because I was really upset about kids being displaced and things like that. But when I really sat with it, really, really sat with it, a piece of my childhood that I cherished burned down to the ground.
And so often I feel like things are constantly taken away from me and what once was I can never regain. Even with that, I do have the opportunity to fully, fully appreciate what once was and be present with what is coming forward so that I can step into my sovereignty. I can remember who I am, and we all have that opportunity. So thank you for joining me today, and the next time you have something come up, give yourself permission to be in the grief, to be in the experience, and allow the tears to flow, the sounds to flow, because you will gift yourself the most amazing gift, and that is your sovereignty and your remembrance.
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