An edition of People magazine at the newsstand with the cover titled, “Faces of Orlando” caught my eye. Each victim was listed with a brief bio describing who they personally were. I teetered on wanting to know more about each of the victims and not wanting to know more about each of them. I was fearful that if I “knew” them, my pain would intensify and I would perseverate over each and every one of them. They would each have an identity I could refer to — a name, a picture and a profound story. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to get that intimate, and as a result of that knowledge, I was concerned how that would emotionally impact me. Read featured blog on Huffington Post.