Reader,

Let me start by sharing a story.

Several years ago, I woke up to the painful truth that I was making choices that reinforced the unequal division of domestic labor in my home and my partnership and kept me overwhelmed, resentful, and burned out. I was complicit in my oppression.

That awareness transformed into deep grief.

I was furious with myself.
I thought about all that "could have been" if I had made different choices.
I mourned the time I had lost to misdirected resentment and anger.
I grieved the central role I played in creating my unhappiness.

I wasn't expecting grief. It arrived unannounced and brought with it rage and sorrow.

Without grief, I am certain I would have stayed stuck. I had to grieve the part of me that was steeped in "good girl" conditioning. The part that didn't know she had a right to say no, rest, or let go of perfectionism. I had to say "thank you" to that part of me and then let her go.

It was painful, and it was liberating.
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What is grief?

Grief is not one single emotion. It's a wild and unpredictable bundle of emotions － just like our wild and unpredictable animal nature. Anger, sadness, fear, anxiety, guilt, regret, confusion, hope, yearning, and envy are just a sampling of what is possible.

We grieve not only death but also losses related to health, relationships, identity, or dreams. Any event that threatens who we thought we were can invite grief.

Do any of these resonate with you?

• Grieving your autonomy when you became a mom
• Grieving your children pulling away, and needing you less
• Grieving a breakup
• Grieving your parents' autonomy as they age
• Grieving for people around the world suffering under capitalist patriarchy
• Grieving past versions of yourself who served you well
• Grieving the loss of a loved one (human or pet)
• Grieving a career you left behind
• Grieving a friendship that no longer feels like a warm hug

What would you add to the list?

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Grief is not linear or predictable

Do you remember the five stages of grief - denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and acceptance? Throw those out the window!

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​Grief is not linear or predictable. It can't be controlled and won't follow a straight path.

How our culture silences grief

Have you ever tried to express a quiet grief, only to be met with silence—or worse, toxic positivity?

There’s a very narrow definition of grief in American culture. It’s typically acknowledged only in the context of death—usually that of an immediate family member—and only for a short, socially acceptable window of time.

Beyond that, grief becomes invisible.

There’s little room for the slower, quieter losses:
The grief that comes from missing your pre-mom self.
The grief of witnessing political violence.
The grief of watching your parents age.
The grief of a friendship that quietly slips away.

In a culture that prizes productivity over humanity, grief is seen as inconvenient.

And for women, this silence cuts even deeper.

We are expected to be emotional caretakers—not the receivers of care.
When we grieve losses that aren’t tied to death—a missed dream, a shifting identity, a quiet unraveling of self—our sorrow is often dismissed or ignored. We’re told to be strong. To be grateful. To be positive. 🤮

So, we carry our grief quietly, beneath the surface—where it lingers, unheard.
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Welcoming grief

Grief is not a problem to solve; it is a process to move through. There is no right way to grieve.

One thing we know is that if we avoid grief, it will often emerge as a health challenge. Making space for grief is a gift to yourself.

• Give yourself time and space to feel.
• Name your grief. Say it out loud. Scream it out loud. Write in your journal. Meditate on it. Give it a voice.
• Talk to trusted people. Not people whose natural tendency is to say, "Everything happens for a reason" or impose a silver lining on you. Find that friend or family member who will witness you from a nonjudgmental, loving space.
• Slow down. Let yourself process and feel.
• Lower your expectations of yourself. Ask for support, say no to invitations, and let balls drop.
• Take care of you in the ways only you know how. Does that mean carving out alone time? Lit candles? Comfort food? Time with a special person? More sleep? You know the answer.

Grief is a central part of life. It brings joy into focus. It is a foundation upon which we can grow and evolve. It is the medicine we need to process the losses we are experiencing around us.

Let grief change you because it will. You will emerge from the chrysalis a new, stronger, clearer butterfly.

If you’re holding grief right now—visible or hidden—know you’re not alone.
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​What do you need to grieve?

I wish you many precious moments until we meet again.

Gratefully,

Sandi