This one hurts…
This one hurts deeply. A shooting in my old Newark, NJ (South Ward) neighborhood—the streets that shaped me—stirred heartache, anger, and memories I didn’t expect to feel. As a grief and trauma therapist, moments like this remind me why mental health skills are survival tools, especially for communities carrying so much pain. This is my reflection on loss, home, and the healing Newark aka Brick City deserves.
Brick City roots — honoring the place that shaped me.
Honestly, I was not planning on writing another blog entry so soon. This one hurts in a way I can’t shake.
When I saw the news about another shooting in Newark, New Jersey, the anger came instantly but this one hit a part of me I thought was tucked away. This happened on streets that raised me. Streets where I learned how to survive, how to navigate the world, and how to hold my own.
I was born at Newark Beth Israel Medical Center. My first residence in life was on Lehigh Avenue until I was 11 months old; however, Wainwright Street between Keer Avenue and Field Place is where I truly grew up. That block held my childhood, my adolescence, and most of my young adulthood. Even when I lived on campus at Seton Hall University or moved to my first apartment not too far away, Wainright always pulled me back until I finally left in 2018.
Everything that shaped me was right there: walking to my best friend’s house up the street without thinking twice, grabbing snacks and subs from the corner stores on Chancellor Avenue, working shifts at Meat City, going to Little Chancellor (former Chancellor Avenue Annex) and Big Chancellor (Chancellor Avenue School), catching the 39 bus like it was second nature. Those weren’t just routines — they were my foundation.
So seeing my neighborhood on the news that was not too far from where I grew up wasn’t just another headline. It was a punch to the chest. Nostalgia flooded in first then heartache and a deep, familiar anger that sat heavy in my body.
And then I saw the names and ages.
A 10-year-old Pop Warner player who went to my old school.
A 21-year-old woman whose life had barely begun.
Multiple victims.
Multiple families torn apart.
That’s when the heartache settled in for real.
Growing up, we all knew the unwritten rule:
Kids. Women. Elderly. Off limits. Always.
That was the line. That was the street code.
Somehow that code is gone.
And the truth is, this is why I do the work I do.
People think mental health is soft.
People think therapy is optional.
People think emotions are a luxury.
But mental health skills are survival skills.
They are the difference between shutting down or exploding.
Between numbing out or breaking cycles.
Between reaching for a gun or finding a way to pause.
Between drowning in anger or naming it.
Between generations repeating pain or finally healing.
Therapy isn’t weakness.
It’s learning emotional language our neighborhoods didn’t have space to teach because they were too busy trying to keep us alive.
Moments like this remind me how deeply our communities are hurting. How much pressure people are holding. How much grief stays unspoken. How many children absorb trauma before they even understand the world.
As someone who sits with grief and trauma every day, I know the fallout, but when violence hits your block, your landmarks, your memories… it hits a place in the soul that doesn’t have words.
And with Thanksgiving approaching, as I prepare to return home to Jersey, this loss feels heavier. It’s grief layered with memory… and love. Love for a city that shaped me. Love for people who deserved more time. Love for a community that keeps trying to stand even when exhausted.
My heart is with Newark; with the families, the survivors, and everyone quietly carrying pain they don’t know how to name.
Some stories sit on your chest and stay there.
This one does.
May we keep finding small ways to breathe, heal, and take care of our hearts . And may Newark feel that healing, too, one tender moment at a time.
Brick City Strong
Written by Shantel “Shanti” Robinson, LCSW
Founder of Shanti’s Promise, LLC and Shanti’s Promise Clinical Wellness, PLLC
Empathy. Strength. Renewal.
When the Holidays Hurt: Holding Space for Grief and Renewal
The holidays can be a tender time when joy and grief meet in the same breath. In this reflection from Shanti’s Promise, Shantel “Shanti” Robinson, LCSW, offers gentle ways to honor your loss, nurture your heart, and rediscover moments of peace and renewal this season.
From Shanti’s Desk
The holidays often arrive wrapped in expectations of joy, togetherness, and celebration. For many, though, this season carries a quiet ache. One that surfaces between the carols, gatherings, and glittering lights. Whether it’s the first holiday after a loss or another year of navigating traditions that no longer feel the same, grief has a way of showing up when the world insists we should be happy.
At Shanti’s Promise, I believe grief is something to honor. This time of year, that might mean slowing down, saying no, or making space for feelings that don’t fit neatly into the holiday narrative.
When the Holidays Feel Heavy
Grief can feel especially sharp during the holidays because so many moments are built around connection. Empty chairs, missing voices, and shifting family dynamics can trigger memories and emotions we thought had softened.
You may find yourself torn between wanting to participate and needing to retreat. That tension is normal. Grief asks for gentleness, not perfection.
Try to release the pressure to “get through” the season the way you used to. You are different after your loss, and things will be different too.
Ways to Care for Your Heart
Here are a few small, compassionate ways to honor your grief this season:
Light a candle or create a quiet space in memory of your loved one.
Keep, change, or skip traditions — whatever feels most supportive right now.
Give yourself permission to say no without guilt.
Write a letter, share a story, or cook a favorite meal in remembrance.
Lean into connection when it feels right and solitude when it doesn’t.
If a moment of laughter or warmth surfaces unexpectedly, let it. Those flashes of joy don’t mean your grief has disappeared; they’re proof that love still lives in you.
Creating Space for Renewal
Renewal isn’t about moving on; it’s about allowing light to reach the places that feel dark. Sometimes it’s found in rest, reflection, or simply giving yourself permission to breathe.
Joy can quietly coexist with sorrow. It may appear in small ways — a shared memory that brings a smile, the comfort of someone who listens, or a sunrise that reminds you you’re still here. Those moments don’t erase grief; they remind us that healing is possible, even when our hearts are still tender.
A Note from Shanti’s Promise
As the year comes to a close, I’ll be reopening my books for new therapy sessions this December, prioritizing Saturday appointments and, for this month only, select Sunday mornings. Weekday evening sessions will also be available in limited slots.
If you’ve been considering therapy or simply need space to unpack what this season brings up for you, I invite you to reach out. Virtual sessions are available for adults in North Carolina and New Jersey.
Let this be the month you give yourself permission to pause, reflect, and receive support.
Written by Shantel “Shanti” Robinson, LCSW
Founder: Shanti’s Promise, LLC and Shanti’s Promise Clinical Wellness, PLLC
Empathy. Strength. Renewal.