On Birthdays + Grief

tomorrow i turn 37. birthdays are a big deal to me. i like being celebrated and feeling loved… special. but this year’s birthday hangs in a cloud of grief that i know cannot be shaken loose. i know it will shift with time. and despite my trying to rush beyond the pain, it is still here. 

i’ve been feeling extremely lonely lately. being single tends to do that for me. i’ve learned to place romantic relationships on a pedestal and without one, i feel *so* alone. 

now, i have wonderful friends and community. and the wise part of my brain recognizes that. and i feel so fortunate to be loved by several lovely humans. 

yet the weight of my singleness aches in my bones this year. 

yearning, still, months later, for a man who doesn’t want to be with me. 

sitting with the grief of last year’s ending of my marriage to my best friend. 

shame for this self-induced loneliness due to cutting ties with my family. 

and years of utilizing self-isolation as a (not always healthy) coping mechanism. 

i find myself feeling like i often do around the holidays. like i’m meant to be excited, joy-filled, happy. 

yet those states have been harder and harder for me to reach lately. 

some friends recently asked how i wanted to spend my birthday. and we, somewhat jokingly, landed on howling at the moon in the middle of the woods. and maybe that’s what would be serve me this year. 

i’m finding that birthdays and aging are less about a big party with people who barely know me… the real me. but instead choosing to surround myself with friends and (chosen) family who can support and love me, no matter my emotional state. and lord, there are so many!

if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. thank you for being here. thank you for seeing me.  thank you, thank you, thank you. 

here’s to 37. and learning to love myself, partnered or not. lonely or not. happy or not. grieving or not. 

Erasing Me

i hate that i even think about it

if your hands grazed her hips yet

if her lips taste as sweet as mine

sharing your energy with someone new 

erasing me bit by bit

with each new kiss

”Erasing Me”
July 2024

Four Years

Four years
I settled for bread crumbs
when I wanted the entire loaf
a piece of passion
a slice of emotional bondedness
a life built together
not adjacent, apart

Four years
I convinced myself to believe that
this year will be better, different
because that’s what you promised me
better
different

Four years
Shit stayed the same
Shit slid + shifted +
shit its own bed
actually

Four years
How do two people so in
Love
get here?
Full of resentment
regret
remission

Remission
Cancer
Toxicity
Death
Death
Sweet death

Four years
down the drain
wasted
no . . .
I loved our time together
I wouldn’t trade it for the world

you taught me 
my worth
you reminded me that 
life is for LIVING
you showed me the exact 
partner I do not want

Four years
Lessons in learning what
Love is not . . .
sacrificing
shrinking
secrecy

Four years
now you can’t even 
meet my eyes
but you stop me 
in the driveway
to tell me you miss me

you miss me?
you only love me 
when I’m gone

I deserve more
a partner who misses me
when they still have me

so
I no longer settle for
bread crumbs
when I now know I am
worthy of
the entire fucking loaf

“Four Years”
4/26/23

Grieving a Body in Pain

i’ve had widespread chronic pain since 2009. 

it ebbs + flows. there are seasons where i almost forget its existence. but it inevitably returns. 

i shame myself for doing the “wrong” things or not doing enough of the “right” ones. 

there’s a part of me that’s convinced that if i just try harder, do more - the pain will go away. 

or if i could just heal all my emotional pains, the physical pains would dissipate too. 

i carry a heavy burden of shame because i’m trauma informed + have so many somatic tools. and therefore, i “should” be able to fix myself. i “should” know better. 

but what if this isn’t something to fix? what if i don’t need to hold the blame for this pain?

how would it feel to grieve the seemingly impossible dream of having a fully abled, pain-free body? 

i share this not for your pity or sympathy. but i hope my story helps others in pain. 

it’s easy to believe that your pain is your fault. and if you could just try one more thing or show up fuller, the pain will die. 

but this is your - and my - permission slip to just be. be angry with your body that has failed you. be deeply upset by the setbacks + limitations. allow yourself to grieve being in *this* body. without the spiritual bypassing of having to see the silver lining or be grateful for your body’s wisdom. 

today, move + feel. simply be with what is.

Grief Stays

time ticks by
people stop asking, stop checking in
life carries on
but grief,
grief stays

he tickles at your throat
stings behind your eyes
subtle reminders of loss
memories of what could have been

a shocking pain
that cuts so deep -
your inhale catches

he rises with the sun
some days
lingers with the falling night
on others

often quiet
rarely screaming
he just wants your attention

wants you to not forget
the lessons
the heartache
the love that once was

so let him in
pour him a cup of tea
embrace his sorrows
let him be

Grief + Divorce

There’s a certain brand of loneliness that arrives after a divorce. A special kind of grief in having to allow yourself the time and space to mourn an entire life you had dreamt of. Though I guess that’s true of grief and losing someone to death as well…

I’ve been fortunate enough to have few people “close” to me die. So, grief is foreign to me. The way it ebbs and flows, nipping at my heels only on certain days… Your birthday. While I’m at a music festival. On a random Tuesday afternoon.

Grief invites a certain kind of sadness I had not yet experienced. Or had never given myself permission to fully feel for fear of it swallowing me whole.

Divorce - even when it’s completely your choice - conjures up memories of all the ways in which you both failed. How you both gave up trying and eventually the desire to make it work simply vanishes. 

Anger and resentment returns when you see all the ways your partner has changed for someone else, something else. The things you craved and needed suddenly do become important when the gravity of losing you hits them. 

Or maybe your worst fear is true after all. That they simply did not want to put in the effort for YOU. That it is, in fact, personal. 

Tender heartache emerges when you choose to confront your own shortcomings and the pain you caused. When you have to open your eyes to the ways in which you fell short.

Transitions are wildly challenging and I know I’m not alone. I hope my story touches someone who’s in the midst of divorce or maybe you’re in a season of grief for another reason.

There’s little resolution or advice here. Just a simple sharing of my own current experience. 

I do know that grief will shift and move and I must flow with it. So, I encourage you to do the same. 

Create a support system for the days where grief feels like too much. 

Know and trust that you can allow yourself to fully sit with any emotions that arise during your transition out of this relationship. 

And hey, I’m so incredibly proud of you for following your heart, dear one.