You’re not burned out.
You’re grieving.
Are you tired? Take a walk with me.
The thing about losing everything is that all you're left with is you. At first, that feels devastating. And then, anything becomes possible.
This is for you if you've hit a wall. If you can't get out of bed. If you're ready to rage quit by email and kick the trash can on the way out. If you're suddenly very sick. Or so lost in your grief that it takes your breath away. If you find yourself quiet quitting your own life. If you just can't anymore. If you're wondering if this is the best it’s going to get.
This is for you if you’re ready to stop running from your grief and be with it.
I understand, because I’ve been there.
I was on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor after another grueling events season with a wildly successful floral business, and I realized this wasn't my idea of success.
My life looked good on paper. But the truth was, I'd lost eight babies in eight years, had seen less and less of my kid because I was so damn busy, and my marriage had just ended, in the middle of a pandemic.
There were beads of sweat forming on my forehead as I breathed through back pain and all I could think about was how it all started. Just me and a pair of clippers, knee deep in a snow drift, watching a barn owl fly by. I started a floral business so I could bring something (anything) to life. And, at first that worked.
On the floor? I didn’t care about the business, the money or the success. I wanted that feeling back. Connection. Attunement. Awe.
I also just wanted permission to be human. I didn’t want to be somebody’s hero. I wanted to cry, for a long time. And then maybe take a nap.
So I took myself on a walk in the woods and I got real with myself. About who I am. About what I want. About what does and does not work for me. And the more honest I got, the more I saw that what doesn't work for me had become sewn into the fabric of my survival.
Untangling that was going to take more than willpower.
I stopped trying to think my way out, and I asked for help from skilled people who could teach me how to be present with my grief.
Over time, I began to loosen the patterns that had me running away instead of facing my feelings. And my path became clear: close the business, go back to school, and create Wildering — a nature-based approach to tending grief.
I know what it’s like when it all falls apart and I know how to come back from it.
This is not just a walk in the woods. This is the work.
When I started down the road to intentionally processing my grief, I knew exactly nothing about it.
Except that it felt suffocating at times. Totally numb at others. And that spending years and years trying to work through it on my own or avoid it altogether was making me physically ill.
I started walking in the woods because it was the only place I felt safe enough to let my grief exist and figure out how to move with it.
Now I write about what I’m learning. And I am inviting you to move with me.
Here are the questions we’ll ask:
✶ How do I grieve without losing myself?
I’m not going to tell you to get over it or let it go or give it time. I’m going to tell you to lean into it. And believe me when I say, I know that’s a lot to ask. But, here’s the thing, you can’t get to what’s good about your life until you’ve learned how to stay with what’s so painful it takes your breath away. And that? Takes practice. Let’s practice together.
✶ How do I find joy when everything has fallen apart?
On the other side of what you’ve lost is the beauty of how much it meant to you. Sitting with that, when it’s gone, can feel enraging and difficult. But, really being with it? Can also keep you from being engulfed by sadness. Here’s where we learn to hold the pain while we sing hallelujah. Because you have a life to live. And being alive (really alive) is not a betrayal of what you once had.
✶ How do I live now?
We are not healing our grief. It doesn’t want to be healed. We’re not pretending anything will ever be the same. Or that you haven’t been changed. We’re also not letting grief calcify and take us over. We are learning how to let it move through us. So we can live. You are already creative, capable and whole. You know the way through. I am just here to walk alongside you.
READY TO WALK?
Let’s go outside.
Lace up your boots, grab your earbuds and meet me on the trail.
Join Wildering and every week I'll send you a new guided audio to move your grief through your body — one walk at a time.
So, who am I?
I’m a writer and a naturalist. I’m someone who’s been leveled by loss. I’m also an ICF-certified coach, earning my graduate degree in Transpersonal Counseling at Naropa because working with others in this capacity requires training, mentorship, and accountability, not just good intentions. I’m currently in the process of walking through my own grief with the loving help of the natural world. When I write about grief, I’m not speaking from theory or abstract ideas. I’m speaking from the gritty lived work of weaving grief and praise, sorrow and awe through one ordinary day — and then waking up to do it all over again.
Are you tired? Take a walk with me.
Honoring and acknowledging that I live and work on the ancestral homelands of the Quinault, Chehalis, Shoalwater Bay, and Chinook peoples — the original stewards of these rivers, forests, and shores.