I thought the two-year anniversary of my husband’s passing would break me. Instead, it gave me one of the greatest gifts I’ve received since losing him. Through a last-minute balloon release, the unwavering support of my grief sisters, and a moment of unexpected clarity, I discovered a truth that changed the way I view healing, love, and moving forward.

After losing my husband, I realized how consuming and exhausting thoughts can become. The “what ifs,” the fears, the spiraling thoughts, and the emotional triggers can pull you into what I now call “stinking thinking.” This post is about learning how to recognize those draining thought patterns, reassess them, and slowly retrain your mind toward healing, purpose, and living again despite grief.

As I approach the two-year anniversary of losing my husband, I realize grief doesn’t just take the people we love… it changes us. It changes the way we think, feel, live, and move through life. This post is for anyone silently carrying heartbreak while trying to rebuild a life they never imagined having to live. You are not alone in your struggle to find meaning, hope, and yourself again.

As I approach the two-year anniversary of losing my husband, I realize grief doesn’t just take the people we love… it changes us. It changes the way we think, feel, live, and move through life. This post is for anyone silently carrying heartbreak while trying to rebuild a life they never imagined having to live. You are not alone in your struggle to find meaning, hope, and yourself again.

Some people are walking around smiling, showing up, and functioning while silently feeling like they are burning alive inside. Grief, fear, financial pressure, overwhelm, and emotional exhaustion can leave you feeling disconnected from life, from yourself, and even from God. This is for the ones quietly fighting internal battles nobody sees while still trying to find the strength to live again.

This morning after dropping Trinity off at the bus stop, I came back home and just stood there looking out into the backyard. Looking at all the trees. Looking at the house. Looking at everything around me. And instead of seeing beauty, I saw responsibility. I saw things that needed maintenance. Things that could break. Things that cost money. Things that depended on me. And suddenly, I felt overwhelmed all over again. Sometimes grief is not just crying. Sometimes grief looks

Sometimes, I feel like I’m in a bit of a pickle… stuck somewhere between life as it is and life as it once was. I feel as if I’m caught in a moment that seems frozen while the world moves on. Like I’m a puzzle piece that just doesn’t quite fit. And there’s this pull… this strange urge to keep going. But where to, exactly? I don’t have that answer yet. Living Between What Was and What Is This is the time when I have to dig deep. To lift myself up and keep moving forward—even w

It’s still a shock, this reality I’m living. I never imagined my life would look like this. I had dreams, plans… a vision of what our future would be. And yet, life had its own way of unfolding—without permission, regardless of how carefully we tried to map it out. I always knew life was uncertain. But nothing prepares you for the kind of loss that takes your spouse so suddenly, so unfairly. It changes everything. Every part of you. The way you move, think, breathe. The pain

This weekend was one I initially dreaded… but it became one of the most powerful moments of my healing journey.

When my husband died, my whole world fell apart. I felt completely lost—consumed by sadness and paralyzed by anxiety. Nights blurred together as my heart raced, pounding with fear and uncertainty. I couldn’t imagine life without him. Everything we had built over 22 years—our dreams, our plans, our future—was gone. I remember my aunt Debby’s words: “You’re stronger than you think.” At the time, I couldn’t believe her. I didn’t feel strong. I felt weak—getting weaker by the day

Grief is something we all hear about… but until you live it, you don’t really understand how heavy it can be. It can feel isolating, overwhelming, and at times, confusing. One moment you’re okay, and the next moment, you’re not. I’ve learned that healing doesn’t come from one thing. It comes from small things… things that help you get through the day. Here are a few things that have helped me along the way. Understanding Grief Grief isn’t something you move through in a strai