I've cried in public more times than I can count. I've cried openly on the bus after saying goodbye to a loved one, I've cried at parties, and I've cried at work. Yesterday I sat in a coffee shop and told a trusted friend about a bunch of shit that I've been going through lately, and cried with the pain and the release of a host of feelings I can barely describe.

I've lived with depression and anxiety for most of my life, and for me crying is a part of that. Crying in public has allowed me to get through my worst moments and release feelings that needed to be released. I don't really care what strangers think, and I've been lucky enough to have  friends who are pretty supportive and non-judgemental.

On Friday morning, I biked to work. This summer I have cycled about two or three times a week. It's about 15 minutes to bike from my house, most of it down a six-lane major street that is busy by Winnipeg standards but would seem relatively calm to anyone from Vancouver, Ottawa or Toronto. 

Friday was different, because I was still reflecting on the death of a cyclist in Ottawa on Thursday. Nusrat Jahan was 23 and killed while cycling in a bike lane, only two blocks from her home.