it just sucks sometimes: on grief and other things

Storytime with Kate

y'all, I've sat down 5 times this week to write this newsletter.

And here I am, the final hour of the final day of this week, trying again... nothing like coming up on a deadline to get something done.

I've struggled to write a newsletter this week because the facts are that I have so much I could write about.

My dearest cousin took his life a few weeks ago and that has absolutely dominated my heart space and my brain space.

And at the same time, I don't want to share about that in a newsletter - but it can be hard to bypass that big huge bit of my life when I sit down to write one of these newsletters - generally, Ruby and I both share what's present for us in the hopes that it might align with what's present for you and we can ✨relate✨

After all, our whole thing is "we do it together as a reminder that we're not alone."

It's not on behalf of you, dear reader, that I don't want to share about my family right now - it's on behalf of me. It feels too close, too personal, and too raw for me to just write about it and press send.

And sometimes life is like this: where you don't want to share what's going on with you with the people around you. 

That's ok.

For me, when I know that something bigger is going on for me but I also want to keep that thing close to my heart for a little while longer, it can feel like there's a disconnect, a barrier, between me and the other person.

Or between me and writing this newsletter.

I feel a low-grade distraction most of the time. Like there's a whole section of my being that is somewhere else. Because if it were with me all the time... I don't think I'd feel safe. I'd be oversharing with people who don't know how to hold what I'm sharing. Who might feel triggered and then I'd have to hold their shit and I truly don't have the capacity to hold theirs and mine all at the same time.

Letting myself keep close what I want to keep close so that I can feel safe is something I used to not do - I would have shared on behalf of the other person. As if it's my job to let just anyone all the way in.

What I know now is that it's a privilege to have deep access to me and my heart. A privilege that is mine to give, and take away. Not as punishment to them, but as safety and belonging to myself.

I think part of the reason grief comes and goes like waves is because of how we've grown to protect ourselves. There are particular people in my family who I feel deeply safe with and I want to talk to them and share with them - we're also all going through this together and it's been important to take breaks from the topic.

There are friends who I'm more willing to share my anger with than others. 

There are people who can't allow the anger and so I don't feel safe sharing my sadness.

Then there are the people who I recoil from as my spide-y senses stand on edge - sometimes I get the sense I'm being manipulated into sorrow. The people who express pity or sympathy enrage me. 

And you and me? It's likely we don't share this exact experience.

But you know what I do think we share? Grief.

I think you and me both, have had something horrible happen in our lives by this point.

And I know that both of us have struggled to share about it. How we feel about it, the actual story of what happened, the terror, the sadness, the anger, the confusion. I know both of us have experienced someone feeling sorry for us - and I don't know this about you but I do know this about me: the second I feel that, I shut down. I recoil. My protectors take over.

For me, pity feels like someone awkwardly taking a step away from my grief, and at the same time saying, "oh yikes that's awful. stay strong."

And then the world goes on: your clients keep calling, the bills are still due, your dog needs to be fed, your alarm still goes off, the days still pass, your laundry needs to be swapped, the dishes need to be put away, your car still needs gas... and then it hits you in another wave.

The most real thing that I've felt through all of this has been through zooming out: not focusing on the details, the specifics of what people are saying to me, or even the specific feelings. The gist is just this: it sucks.

"Suck" comes in a variety of ways with a variety of narratives and the suck will never be diminished by any silver lining. 

When my grandmother died, my cousin and I were texting and I said, "it was time" and he responded, "we're so lucky we got to have her for such a long time." and he's right.

But that sentiment, at 21, doesn't get to apply to him. It was not time. 

So I let the grief come.

I let myself be moved to write with the support of a deadline.

I let go of needing to get it right.

I release the urge to want to say something profound or inspiring to you through email this week.

I release the pressure valve. (Here's a little IG film I made this week about this whole pressure cooker metaphor that flopped)

To your grief: I see you, I hear you, I get you, I feel you. Whatever happened, that sucks.

I'm grateful that I've been re-orienting my life towards how to keep myself emotionally safe (not neutral, or soft, or numb - in fact, the opposite. When I say "safe" I actually mean safe enough to express myself and share what's real for me.) instead of feeling responsible to other people's discomfort of how they're receiving me. I get to feel belonging in my body and feelings. And I get to set boundaries around that. 

So do you.

If you grew up under the requirements that you are always attuned to and oriented towards everyone's feelings but your own like I was, the Self Study Program is for you. To help you come home to yourself - to trust yourself. To trust yourself to share with the people who can hold you, and not with the people who can't. To set boundaries that are in alignment with your spide-y senses. To keep you feeling whole, and like yourself.

May I remind you again that you are not alone.

And you don't have to do it alone.

The 2024 Self Study Program starts mid-March. It's just around the corner, and it's proven to offer you belonging, inner homing, and permission to live your life according to you.

Applications are open — go ahead and apply! It’s a no commitment process where you apply, we chat, and then you enroll.

Wanna dip your toes in first? Join us for our free class from not enough to owning your YOU era, Wednesday, February 21st, 6:30-8:30pm ET. We have a special surprise for everyone who shows up!

Let's make 2024 the year that we stop trying so hard to fix ourselves.

Because, tbh we love you just the way you are. ❤️ 

You're Doing Great,

xo,

k