The Days Are Full

05/23/2026

Every April, before I've checked the date, my body already knows. 🌿
Michael died April 26th, 2014. This year was the 12th.

Spring is everyone else's exhale. The birds, the longer days, the flowers people have been waiting for. And every year I sit inside all of that — and feel the same foreboding I felt waiting in a hospital hallway.

I asked the women in my community this week if anyone else had lost their person in spring. 33 answered. Dates ranging from March 2nd to July 21st.

Five months, claimed year after year. The world can't see it that way. Every blooming tree is a reminder that you're still here and they aren't.

Your body knows the date is coming before your brain registers it. The anticipation is its own exhaustion. And then the day arrives, and you lose your grip on time, on what's real, on where you actually are.

You're not losing your mind. It's what happens to us.
I'm hosting a free, one-session pop-up talk — May 28th at 12:00pm EST — for anyone who dreads this season. To talk honestly about what it actually takes to move through these months, when your body is bracing for something that can't happen again.

If this is you, drop APRIL in the comments. I'll DM you to get you registered. We'll need to be Facebook friends first — send a request and I'll accept.

If you know someone whose person died in spring, share this with them.

04/24/2026

Wrong Time, Right Person

There's a theory called Wrong Time, Right Person.
It says the universe shows you the right soul at the wrong moment—on purpose. Not to torture you. But to show you what's possible. To give you a glimpse of the love you deserve before you're ready to hold it.

You meet them too early. When you're still healing from someone else. When you're building your career, your life, yourself. When you're in different cities. Different chapters. Different versions of who you'll become.

And it hurts. You feel it. They feel it. But life doesn't line up.
So you let them go. And for years, you wonder: What if we met at a different time?

It Wasn't a Mistake

Meeting them at the wrong time wasn't a mistake. It was preparation.

Because when the timing finally aligns, you know exactly what you're holding. And you don't let go.

Death Doesn't Change That

People think that once the love of your life dies, that's it—that the connection you had with them is gone. But it doesn't work like that.
The tether that pulls you together from before you meet. The yearning to be with "the one." Two souls that, even when apart, know each other from the very beginning.

Love breaks through to find each other, even before you're ready. That terrible yearning to be with them doesn't stop. It continues, even after they die. It can't. They are on the other end of the tether.
Love transcends everything—even death.

Even when you're in deep mourning, you love. Even when this new reality becomes permanent, you love. Even when you know your life with him is over.

Your soul doesn't care. Time doesn't matter. It never did.
You are still connected. You always will be.

Don't ever let go.

12/28/2025

Hey you — yes, you sitting there with the leftovers in the fridge and that quiet pressure in your chest…

I want you to know I see you.

People talk about Christmas like it’s one big emotional mountain. And yes, the anticipation, the absent person at the table, those moments — they’re hard.

But almost no one tells you about the part after.

Not the build‑up.

Not the day itself.

But the stretch right after the lights come down and the relatives leave.

You’ve spent weeks making space for other people’s joy.
You’ve juggled the expectations, the planning, the meals, the kids, the jokes about “funny Uncle Bob,” the awkward small talk, the pretending.

And then…

Silence.

The toys are everywhere.
The kids are exhausted and annoyed.
You’re physically drained and emotionally stretched thin.

And suddenly the holidays feel less like something you “survived” and more like something that left you in pieces.

That’s what Surviving the Merry Madness is built for.

Not to give you another list of “how to cope.”
Not to tell you to “find the joy.”
Not to pressure you to have insight you don’t have.

But to give you a space where you don’t have to explain, perform, or hold it in front of people who think the season is over.

We’re gathering Dec 29 – Jan 5 — not for a workshop, not for pushy fixes, not for whitewashed holiday cheer — but for soft, real companionship.

Come as you are.
Talk if you want.
Sit quietly if you don’t have words.

No expectations.
No homework.
No emotional performance.

Just being with other widowed solo parents who know exactly how strange this stretch feels.

If reading this makes your chest unclench even a little right now…

…maybe it’s the place you belong this year.

Link in bio if you want to join us.

12/26/2025

Brought Myke Void our family Christmas brunch this morning.

First time in years since I’ve worn my wedding ring, and it feels right.

This year, amongst my children, my sisters, and their husbands/partners… I felt more complete than I have around the holidays in, well, eleven years.

Not because I'm “stuck” in the past - he's always been with me. It feels good to bring him out of the shadows.

11/19/2025

Since the beginning of November, I've been sharing education emails about how kids grieve by age group, including psychological development, and what they need from you. It's years of research, and hands on experience from both personal and professional experience.

Children's grief is so often overlooked because they don't show it in ways we expect. Yes, they seem fine. Yes, they're resilient. But that overlooks an essential truth: they're incorporating their grief into their new normal, but that doesn't mean they're not grieving. Kids adapt to life. They have to, because their reality changes all the time! They're freaking experts at incorporating life lessons and major experiences for years! That's how they survive!

This is their normal now - but that doesn't mean they're not affected by it. They are little sponges, and need help figuring things out. If we don't know what to look for, or how to help....

This month has also pushed me to dig down to update my eBook, Kids Grieve Differently

I'm not saying this to "take advantage of" the situation, but to say "Here's how I can help you help them."

That we even have to have this conversation sucks - but it's here. Let's talk.

11/17/2025

You can’t protect them from loss—but you can lead them through it.

Your kids will be okay. You need to hear that today.

It’s the ache that never lets up—watching your child carry a kind of pain they never should’ve had to. Losing their dad at such a young age changed everything.

But here's what I’ve seen firsthand:
Kids who grieve openly with a loving adult by their side?
They grow into deeply compassionate, emotionally intelligent humans.

When we, as widowed parents, let our kids show us how they grieve, rather than shutting it down or trying to fix it, we give them safety. And with safety comes resilience.

If you need guidance on how to support them—even while you’re grieving yourself—I've created a free email series just for you.

Sign up for it today and get support that actually understands what you’re going through.

Comment

05/08/2025

BEFORE YOU SAY “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY” THIS YEAR…

For some of us, Mother’s Day is layered.
It’s beautiful and brutal all at once, and it takes an incredible force of will to just show up.

If you know a widowed mom, especially one raising young kids on her own, please don’t assume this day is joyful.

While other moms are getting breakfast in bed or time to themselves, she’s still doing all the things.

She’s the one creating joy for her kids while carrying sorrow in her chest.

The smile is real—but it’s also a mask, hiding her heartbreak so she can hold it together for them.

She might be the one who quietly buys herself a gift
so her kids have something to give.

She’s grieving the card her partner would have written.
The moment he would’ve stepped in.

She’s not just missing him.
She’s missing being seen.
Being celebrated.
Being held up and reminded that she’s not doing this alone.

Grief doesn’t go on holiday for Mother’s Day.

So before you post the brunch photos or fire off the “Happy Mother’s Day!” texts—pause.

A simple: “I’m thinking of you this Mother’s Day.”
will land softer. It acknowledges the weight of this day without being accidentally dismissive.

Offer to help the kids figure out what to do to make her feel special. Don’t worry about the gift— it’s the showing up that matters.

That she’s not the only one helping her kids recognize
and respond to their mom’s overwhelming contribution to their family, because she’s the only one left leading the charge.

She needs someone to tag her out this weekend, if only for part of the day.

What she really needs is someone to spot her.
To be the second set of eyes at the park.
To keep watch while the kids race ahead, so she can stop scanning for danger for five minutes.

Because hypervigilance, 24/7, is exhausting.

She doesn’t need a huge bouquet—
she needs to feel part of the family again.
To be folded in, not always holding it all.

She wants to step out of the identity of being a widow, of being a solo parent—just for a moment—and fully enjoy being a mom again.

She doesn’t want to be relieved of her role today—she wants to be seen inside it.
To be celebrated with her kids, not separated from them.
Not “given the day off”—but honoured as the heart of it all.

If someone you love is grieving this Mother’s Day, share this with them. Better yet—invite her and the kids to the park.

Let her know: she’s not alone.

04/24/2025

How am I? Discombobulated.

It's spring, and it's deeply associated with the impending feeling of doom that was escalating to the night I found Myke. When the birds start singing, it triggers me deeply.
I start disconnecting from the world, like an out of body experience. The aspect of me attached to this world keeps going as I slowly rise above as an observer.

By April 26th, I'm completely above it all, closer to the veil, and closer to him.

His higher aspect that's truly him, just as I'm truly me. He's brighter and bigger, older and wiser, where his earthly aspect was just a small aspect that's not needed anymore.

We connected just once, and it was extraordinary, but even then it was only through a very thick veil, more knowing and feeling than anything tangible.

It gets less intense every year, but it's still affecting me deeply even now.

It makes it challenging to keep that impending feeling from convincing me it's not because someone will die.

That probably sounds really weird.

This is the first time I've shared so much, so publicly. Usually, it's my widow friends and my mom that I've gone all spiritual on.

I share my truth, my vulnerability, to reach out to those who are balancing realities of a death this month.

Watch the video below. If this resonates, drop a comment.

I see you. You're not alone.

04/13/2025

This is a really cute trend.

04/11/2025

04/04/2025

✨ Big welcome to Crystal, a new Reclaim Your Life client! ✨

She’s taking a brave step—choosing herself, her healing, and her future. 💛

Over the next 9 months, we’ll work together to reignite her spark, rebuild her identity, and step into solo parenting with confidence.

This isn’t about moving on. It’s about moving forward—intentionally, powerfully, and fully supported.

Let's go 🔥