Hi all- As many of you know Inhabe been dealing with my own loss of a friend … but I’m back and excited for my support group this morning. After reading the posts from the last week, I really need to share this. Grief is painful. There’s no way around that. But I want to say something gently and honestly. At some point… there’s a line. And if we don’t pay attention, grief can start to take more from us than the loss itself did. Our minds are built to try to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense. So we think about it over and over. We replay. We question. We try to find meaning. And without realizing it, we start building our whole world around the loss. That’s the part that keeps people stuck. It’s not the grief itself. It’s the way we’re holding it. The way we’re thinking about it every day. And I’m not saying this to push you or rush you. I’m saying it because I’ve seen what happens when grief quietly becomes someone’s identity. That’s a heavy bill to pay later. You’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to miss them. You’re allowed to have moments where it all feels like too much. But you’re also allowed to decide that this is not who you are. That grief is something you are moving through, not something you are becoming. If you’ve been feeling stuck or like you’ve been sitting in the same place for a while, just know there are more intentional spaces opening up inside this community. More focused conversations. More specific topics. A chance to go a little deeper if and when you’re ready for that kind of support. I’m also going to be shifting my support groups to focus much more on the personal growth side of grief. The part where you actually start creating change, not just talking about the pain. If you’re truly at a place where you don’t want to keep feeling like this… and you’re ready for a real breakthrough in your grief… I strongly suggest you join us in those rooms as a true member of this space. That’s where we do the deeper work.

Happy Easter 🤍 This morning I was thinking about a table. Not a perfect one—just one of those long holiday tables where there’s too much food, people talking over each other, chairs scraping, someone asking you to pass something every five seconds. And at that table, there was a woman sitting right in the middle of it all. Everyone else was in it—laughing, telling stories, doing the whole Easter thing. She wasn’t. She kept picking up her phone, opening a message thread, staring at a name, then locking it again. Not once. Not twice. Over and over. Nobody said anything to her about it. Because from the outside, it just looked like she was distracted. But you and I know better than that. That’s what holidays can do. They don’t just show up as “celebrations.” They highlight the empty seat without ever pointing to it directly. They replay versions of the day that used to exist, side by side with the one you’re sitting in now. And it can feel like you’re the only one who notices. Here’s what stayed with me though— At some point, someone at that table said something stupid. Not even funny, just stupid. And it caught her off guard. She laughed. Quick. Real. Gone in a second. But it was there. And no, it didn’t fix anything. It didn’t mean she had moved on or that the day suddenly made sense. It just meant… for one second, something else made it through. That’s what I want you to hold onto today. Hope isn’t this big, glowing feeling that shows up and changes the whole day. It’s smaller than that. It’s the moment you take a bite of something and actually taste it. It’s the second you forget to be sad and then remember again. It’s the part of you that’s still capable of responding to life, even when part of you is somewhere else. If today feels hard, you’re not missing the point of the holiday. You’re experiencing it honestly. And if even one small moment slips through today—one breath, one laugh, one tiny pause where it doesn’t feel so sharp— let that be enough.

To all new members—welcome. I’m really glad you’re here. If you feel ready, introduce yourself in your own way. No pressure, no perfect words needed. Just show up as you are. This is a space where grief doesn’t have to be hidden or explained away. You don’t have to shrink it, and you don’t have to carry it alone. You are seen here... You are witnessed here...And you are wanted here.

Did I nail it?