People ask me what I do for a living, and I always brace myself for the reaction. I’ll smile and say real casual, "I feel and see energy around people, and I help them with grief.” And without fail, they look at me like I just told them I wrestle raccoons as a competitive sport. Like “You do WHAT?” Meanwhile, I’m standing there in my hoodie with a coffee stain on it, dry shampoo holding yesterday’s hair together, and concealer quietly doing its job under my eyes. And I’m sile

The holidays are here again, and I know what that means. For many, it’s a time of joy and celebration with family. But for those of us who are grieving, it’s a time of deep, sharp ache. The truth is, nothing about the holidays feels like it used to. There’s a heaviness that hangs over everything—an absence that’s impossible to ignore. I get it. I’m living it. Tomorrow, Thanksgiving will be different. And so will Christmas. And next year, the year after that. Because for those

I’ll be honest: I’ve never really liked having pictures taken of myself . It’s always been something I’ve avoided, feeling awkward and...

Grief doesn’t ask for your permission. It doesn’t wait for the right time. It doesn’t give you a chance to breathe. It shows up when you...