Gratitude, Grief, and Real Growth.
Newsletter | December 2025
INCOMING: Personal story about losing a parent.
NOT INTERESTED? No worries, just scroll to the end for a free holiday gift. 🎁
Hello, my friend.
In a recent newsletter, I alluded to being “busy” these last few months…
And although part of me doesn’t feel fully ready to share, it feels super weird to act like everything is “business as usual” without offering a personal note. So, here goes:
I lost my dad in September.
It doesn’t feel quite right to say “all of a sudden” since he’d been battling both cancer and Alzheimer’s for the last almost-decade… but, while it wasn’t entirely unexpected, it still felt sudden.
One day he was here and then, he wasn’t.
I’ve already been grieving the loss of my dad in stages and, now that he’s truly gone, my sadness has shifted into something deeper and more final. An unexpected silver lining, however, is this sense of ::relief:: mixed in with the mourning… he’s not suffering or confused any longer, and that feels like a gift.
The last few months leading up to his final moments were the hardest in my life, to date. But now that I can settle into pure grief… without the fear or uncertainty of “what’s next”… I can simply remember the good times and miss him.
I can let the sadness soften into love.
And I can feel grateful.
For the memories of my dad at his best.
For the man he was.
And grateful for the person he helped me to become.
Thinking back in time, even just a few years...
The old version of me would have shown up in the best way she knew how… but that version would have been drinking her face off to “cope."
☝️There’s no judgement implied here - alcohol used to be my default “tool” when I needed comfort or escape… when I needed to simply “feel better.” I have a ton of compassion for ‘me’ back then.
But in my life now?
I’ve got SUCH better tools.
A whole damn toolbox full of ‘em.
☝️So many, in fact, that I can’t seem to shut up about them. …hence creating courses, trainings, guides,* and generally driving my friends & family bananas with all of my “suggestions.” (sorry guys) 😬
*Relatedly: Help yourself to my free holiday guide 🎁
I’m just, so thankful.
The fact that I no longer depend on those old, unhealthy coping mechanisms…
The fact that I no longer have the mental noise and anxiety that alcohol used to create…
Thankful that what I DO have now is a deep sense of stability. resilience. and self-trust.
I’m really proud of how I showed up for my family in this difficult time.
I’m proud of who I’ve become.
I’m no longer afraid of the storms in life… of the big, scary things I can’t control… because I now believe in my ability to get through them.
And that feeling?
It’s incredible.
“If your peace depends on everything going right, that’s not peace, that’s control.
Learning to be steady in uncertainty: that’s real growth.”
I had no idea when I first started questioning my relationship with alcohol that it would change my entire life. But it did.
This solid, grounded, capacity I feel now… this expanding sense of self-worth and self-trust… no glass of wine or the “buzz” from whiskey is worth the trade.
🧘♀️💕✨
My Dad was my biggest fan.
He supported and encouraged me endlessly, and he was always nudging me to “keep learning”...
He was so proud when I redefined my relationship with alcohol, and even more proud when I became a coach to help others do the same.
I miss him deeply, but I also carry him with me now, in my heart.
So, here we are – heading into the holidays together.
My mom and I holding each other close.
Feeling grief and loss… and also so much love.
Wishing you a peaceful and warm holiday season.
If you’re navigating something heavy this year, I hope you feel supported, steady, and a little less alone. 🤍
🎁 Looking for some extra support over the holidays? 🎁
This “festive” time of year can stir up a lot: expectations, obligations, over-consumption, and overall noise. 🫠 If you’d like to let go of the overwhelm and reclaim what’s truly meaningful:
Download your free Joy Compass and map out a season of calm, connection, and ease.
