“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.” ― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
Dear Friends,
It’s spooky how long it’s been since we spoke! The days seem to simply fly like a startled flock of mourning doves. I had every intention of writing to you once September shed her summer clothes in favor of cashmere and comfy layers.
Yet here we are, meeting in October’s dying light.
It was a challenging summer to say the least. Has it also been a rough couple of months for you as well?
Frequently, I remind myself that we never know what burdens others are carrying. In addition to our own private grief, many of us also carry the weight of family issues, financial fears, and global events. It’s no surprise that as we approach the end of 2022, many of us are struggling.
With grief.
With depression.
With overwhelm.
With fatigue.
With loss.
A dear friend of mine calls this period of darkness “going to live in her wallpapered cave.” I have dubbed it “seasonal mourning.” As Mother Earth readies for the hibernation and lean Winter weeks here in the Northern Hemisphere, it makes sense that we mirror the dying and letting go seen in nature.
Like the silver maples, persimmons, and fruit trees, I am doing my own shedding and changing and change is never without sacrifice and discomfort, if not outright pain. I have felt an itchy restlessness just beneath my skin – as if I have a dual personality: human and wolf; mortal and fae. Perhaps my soul searches for the bridge between this world and the next. It is after all, the season of thinning veils; when many of us feel closer to our loved ones lost to us in death.
Although, to be honest, I feel my father - and his absence – 365 days out of the year.
That first six months to a year after he passed away, I made like a turtle and hid myself away. Even when I was physically present at work that year, I felt like I wore mask of normalcy to cover the agony underneath.
These days, when my grief hits me particularly hard – on overcast and rainy days; on nights when insomnia keeps my eyes wide open in the dark, in dreams where there always seems to be an approaching storm; on sunny afternoons where I simply miss him – I try to lean into the emotion, hold space for it, and breathe through the pain, not run and hide from it.
More often than not, I do just that - I curl up in my comfy blankets, sip a mug of hot tea with honey, and get lost in my favorite KDrama, webtoon, or a good old-fashioned nap. And I take an unconscious step back from engaging with anyone. Then I wake up one day, and months have passed.
However, I didn’t completely shut things off.
The Pivot
When I began this journey in the grief space, I offered one on one mentoring for those who are grieving. However, as an empath with no professional training, I soon found that I absorbed all that grief and pain – on top of my own – and never released it. This was a recipe for a spiritual and emotional disaster, which I didn’t realize until I was heart-deep in a break down.
So I pivoted my purpose.
Today, I no longer offer mentoring or coaching. Instead, I am focusing on publishing the book and speaking about grief and loss, mental health, and disability awareness. And I still hold space, much as I do for my friends. I’ve just learned to do so in a way that protects my mental and emotional health.
In addition to those activities, my friend Laura Bender, whom I met on Clubhouse has asked me to co-facilitate a mastermind around personal development. For now, the pilot program will take place on Clubhouse and will be totally free.
I’m so excited for this opportunity and will let you know more as we work out the details!
The Book
Speaking of the elephant in the room – I could host a talk on the joys and pitfalls of self-publishing! No authors I asked was ever able to give me a comprehensive checklist on what is necessary and the cost estimates associated with birthing your own book. Which is to say, this book is taking longer to publish due to budget constraints (i.e. house repairs take precedence.)
Imposter syndrome is also still an issue for me. The formatter sent me the finalized manuscript, I had it printed and bound at Staples and once I had it in my hands, I promptly wanted to shove it in the back of some dusty, unused shelf (not many of those in my study!) and never speak of it again, much less publish it.
I said as much to my accountability partner and friend, and she was adamant that this was not an option. Thanks for kicking my butt, Lisa Geraci Rigoni! Tough love is often the best love!
And to Dee Castelli, whom I commissioned to paint the watercolors to accompany the poems – my friend, they turned out amazing in the manuscript!
The book will be published. I just don’t know when. You will definitely be the first to know!
Speaking Schedule
Clubhouse continues to be an amazing home for me on social media and I love the people I’ve met there and have a full schedule of weekly shows/rooms and talks that I host or co-host. My schedule is posted below and for those not on Clubhouse, you can listen off the app.
If you’re interested, email me for a list of the replay links.
In addition to regularly speaking on Clubhouse, in July, I was also a guest on my dear friend, Dr. Jennifer Todd’s podcast, Generation Jamz. You can listen to it here.
Poetry was a constant companion while going through the first few months after I lost Dad – it helped me express pain so deep, I thought no words could capture it accurately. Yet poetry could and did. With that in mind, I’ve been taking writing workshops, which have been incredible and have inspired several new poems – some of which will appear in the second memoir.
And some will be performed at a poetry open mic that my friend and fellow writer/poet Jenna Villforth Veazey launched in September! Our third open mic night at a local brewery will take place tomorrow, November 1 at 6:45pm and if any of you are within a short driving distance, we would love to see you!
It’s always an act of courage to stand up and share your heart with complete strangers – especially when they’ve had a couple of beers!
That’s me for now - what about you? What have you been doing these past few months? How are you handling today and your experience of grief in this moment? I hope you have a strong and loving support system.
While our grief is intensely personal, it helps tremendously to have at least one person in your corner who understands enough to just hold space - without trying to “fix” you.
And you can always message me or drop me a line. My email. DMs and even my PO box are always open. That’s one thing I’ll never stop doing - holding space.
Sending you love, light, and peace,
~ Michelle