Twenty-three years ago, I made the hardest decision of my life. As I sat next to my daughter’s hospital crib, I had to tell her it was okay to let go—that I would take care of everything from here. That moment of unbearable loss became the foundation of how I function in the world and the foundation of how I want to help others navigate their most difficult transitions. I am someone who truly understands what it means to rebuild from pain and loss, and who can provide direction from that vulnerable place.

It will be 23 years since the last day I laid eyes on my daughter. The last day she went into her final surgery. The day I had to tell her I wanted her to fight to stay with us but if she felt too tired to continue to fight that I would take it from here. That I would make sure her brothers and her daddy were going to be ok. Even now remembering the deep ache I had as I even considered the fact that she may not make it through the surgery, I still want to wail in pain.

I’ve never experienced that specific depth of pain again, though I’ve certainly wailed in grief since then. I had so many other traumatic moments in my life before and after her passing but that one – was the apex.

She was diagnosed in utero with a congenital heart defect called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS). As it was summed up for us back then, she was born with half a heart. Initially she was diagnosed with Tetralogy of Fallot which is a combination of heart defects but would have given her a better mortality rate. I remember the strange prayer I begged God to grant us – please let it be something they could “fix.” When facing a catastrophic diagnosis, we were hoping for hard rather than impossible. There were surgeons and specialists that could “fix” her defects, but it was how her 6-pound body would adjust to those manmade fixes.

Looking back, I wish I could have recognized that I wasn’t alone in wondering how to take the next breath or keep moving forward. I had such a heavy feeling that exhausted me. I remember telling my husband I was tired of being tired. I desperately wanted a break from that heaviness. To this day, I struggle with what I asked her to endure so that we could have time with her. Those two months and 16 days I had with her was a gift I cherish but every day I wonder if I asked too much of my sweet baby.

As the years have passed and I began to emerge from that first few years of grief, I started to see that while my loss was uniquely mine, the experience of having our world fundamentally altered is something that many people share. We share the disorientation, the questioning, the way grief rewrites our entire sense of purpose.

Losing a child feels like a grief that stands apart from all others and in many ways, it is. I remember when I lost my maternal grandfather when I was a kid, I felt this profound sense of never being able to make that relationship what I’ve always seen other kids build with their grandparents. When he passed, I grieved him but also grieved the relationship I dreamt of having with him that was never meant to be. I’ve also learned over the years that while circumstances of losing someone important may differ dramatically, the way grief moves through us, changes us, and challenges us to rebuild our lives follows similar patterns. No matter what we are grieving, that loss matters deeply, and I know that the pain you’re carrying is real and valid.

Grief and loss are part of everyone’s life experience. None of us can exist without having lost something and someone. Whether we are losing a job, friendship, health, home, financial stability or even that cherished dream you have been working towards for years – it is all difficult and traumatic. We would all love to escape difficult moments in our lives but there isn’t a single person that has figured out that life secret.

Looking at my journey, I can see these losses fall into distinct patterns that many of us experience:

Identity & Career Transitions:

• Loss of my identity as a military brat
• Laid off from two jobs
• Loss of financial stability

The loss of my military brat identity taught me how deeply our sense of self can be tied to circumstances beyond our control. I was 17 when my father retired. I was accustomed to the “rules” of living on a military base, even shopping at the Exchange or Commissary for everything. I neglected to recognize how much I loved moving every 2 to 3 years. I thought it was the worst part but even ten years after he retired, I was still moving from apartment to apartment every year after my lease ended. The only reason I fell out of that habit was because my husband and I ended up buying a house. That was one of my first foundational shifts. I eventually experienced others – laid off from two jobs and watching my financial security disappear. I was forced to rebuild my circumstances and my entire understanding of who I was. Those two job losses weren’t just about paychecks; they were about questioning my worth, my skills, my place in the world.

If you’re struggling with a major career transition or questioning your worth after a job loss, you don’t have to figure it out alone.

Relationships & Human Connection:

• Loss of my daughter
• Loss of a loved one
• Lost friendships under a variety of reasons
• Isolation due to the pandemic or other circumstances

Grief isn’t only about death. It is about the severing of bonds that helped define you. Losing connection leaves us questioning how to rebuild our sense of belonging.

Grief isolates us, but healing happens in connection. Whether you’re grieving a person, relationship, or dream, there’s a way forward that honors your loss while building new meaning.

Life Disruption & Resilience:

• Diagnosis of my own congenital heart defect
• Many changes in my life circumstances
• Loss of safety because of natural disasters

A health diagnosis can change you, for me it was my congenital heart defect. When I was diagnosed it was one of the two defects my daughter was diagnosed with. Hearing those words, I knew I was the one – the person who passed on to her the “broken” genes. I felt like I gave her the broken heart. I’ve since learned that genetics are far more complicated and accepting that allowed me to release my guilt. I eventually started to find ways to heal and learned that it was ok to heal at my own pace. It took me a few years, but I found my confidence again. Learning to heal at my own pace freed me from letting others dictate my timeline. I gained the confidence to pause before making decisions, even if others see it as indecision. If I can’t decide on my own terms, I let the opportunity pass—and I’ve learned that’s not a loss.

Some of life’s biggest disruptions happen when we’re supposed to be ‘finding ourselves’. The health diagnoses that changed everything, disasters that uproot our sense of security, constant change when we’re craving stability – these experiences can derail the traditional timeline society expects, but they also build a different kind of strength that allows you to grow and flourish..

If you’re a young adult feeling like life has derailed your plans, or if you’re facing a health crisis that’s changed everything, remember disruption often leads to discovering strengths you never knew you had.

From Survival to Transformation

Some days I feel like I have hit my fill of traumatic situations, but I remember there are better days ahead. I have put strategies in place, so I am able to shift my focus from the incessant spinning that happens when I agonize over a traumatic situation. The strategies I developed didn’t just help me survive—they helped me build a life coaching practice that transforms other people’s pain into purpose. When I work with clients, we don’t just talk about coping strategies; we develop personalized approaches that fit their specific situation and goals.

Here are a couple of the strategies that work for me, and I could not recommend them more to anyone struggling with grief and loss:

Walking

Sunshine and movement are the perfect combination for me. Whether it’s the release of endorphins or the boost in serotonin and vitamin D, walking, especially outdoors, helps me think clearly and thoroughly. When I get stuck on anything, I can explore ideas or work through what’s troubling me. I’ve started using the voice memo app to talk through whatever’s on my mind. It doesn’t just help me process difficult emotions; it sparks inspiration too. I’ve left my house feeling lost and returned twenty minutes later with a host of solutions. In fact, my entire life coaching business was born during one of these walks.

Now, I often encourage my clients to find their own version of ‘walking it out.’ For some, it is actual walking and talking. For others, it may be talking while you are on your commute to and from work. The key is combining gentle movement with the freedom to let thoughts flow without judgment.

Creative Expression

I wouldn’t call myself artistic but challenging myself to create something has become a powerful form of expression. Whether it’s puzzles, Lego projects, or tending to my plants, the creative process soothes me. The repetitive nature of these activities requires me to focus on the present moment rather than what I’m grieving, giving my mind the rest it needs to reset.

In my work with clients navigating major transitions whether career changes, grieving or young adults finding their direction, I’ve seen how crucial it is to rebuild identity through small, creative acts. It doesn’t have to be traditional art. I took advantage of what my inner 8-year-old wanted to try and took a tap dance class. It could also be reorganizing your closet or pantry. I’ve also enjoyed making my own chili oil and even signed myself up for a woodworking class. What I want my clients to know is that creative expression helps us remember we can create beauty and meaning, even during a difficult time.

Your Next Chapter Starts Here

Grief will always be part of my story, but it’s no longer the only story I’m writing. Every day, I help clients write new chapters too—whether they’re navigating career transitions, processing loss, or helping their young adults find direction in an uncertain world.

If you’re ready to stop spinning in grief and start moving toward a life that feels meaningful again, I’m here. I know this territory because I’ve lived it. More importantly, I know the way through.

Ready to take the next step? Book a free clarity call, to explore how we can work together to rebuild from your most difficult chapter, one step at a time.