2025 Wrapped

Lost one brother. The only one. The end.

Well? Really. Every single thing else pales. Ever single thing is is flavored. Every single thing else is because. Every. Single. Thing.

I grieved. Truly and deeply. It has been my core. My guiding light. My darkest deep. I have cried more tears than I ever have in all my lifetime. Grief is my constant companion.

I raised two tiny humans a bit more, as they grieved and I grieved. Somehow I showed up for them. I teach them about my grief every day, and share my tears, my love. I want them to be whole, unbroken, and that means that I hold their sadness with reverence because it is a part of them that I never want to ignore, or them to ignore. I want their grief to be beautiful too.

I worked. With grief. My clients continued to be human. And have their own losses. We shared grief, in the only way I know how to be a therapist, which is to say that I am myself. Grief needs good company. I wonder if the Great Mother knew I could go dark and journey to the deep. A shepherding of my own. A womb, not a tomb.

I wrote. I found my voice at the bottom of the darkest pit. And picked it up, like a treasure. It is beautiful and raw. My grief needs to be witnessed in this way. I write, but I need to share it. Often, aloud. This is my medicine. My throat opens to spill a good howl and my truth. I feel the same power and relief with both.

I expanded my spirit. My consciousness. I sit in the great below with Ereshkigal, a dark night of the soul, an initiation with Lilith. I am both not afraid, and terrified. The terror at the vastness I simply do not know. But somehow, that is comforting too. I don’t want, or need, to know it all. But I am called to the seeking.

I am learning to take care of myself differently. It is a steep curve. I have some traction though. And support. There is a lot of work still yet here. I am learning.

I laughed. Not the idle laugh of a carefree heart. But the loud, raucous laugh of my soul stirring. I endeavor to find my way back to some more carefree laughter, but the laughter I have felt this year has also been good medicine, strong and deep.

I turned 40. I celebrated 40 trips around the sun several times, and with two groups of women who have held me through a lot of life. I am so grateful for them each and all. I know I am fortunate to have this love, near and far, with distance and time. My family celebrated me too, a day remarkably sweet and tender.

I am not done. As I reflect on a year of my life, I know there is more ahead. More heartbreak, more love, more laughter, more tears, more expansion and unfolding. I am here for it all.