August has been a strange month for me in the new season of my life…
the month of beginnings and endings layered over each other like double-exposed film.
Anniversary dinners and final arguments,
the first I-love-yous and the last goodbyes,
all living in the same rooms, breathing the same air.
This year, I’ve found myself grieving not for him…
but for the girl who loved him.
The one who built a future with both hands while he sat in the empty rooms, pretending—or maybe trying—to care about what I was building.
The one who believed love could be enough.
When I left, I had to abandon her too.
It was the only way I could stay strong enough to move forward.
Lately, grief has been coming to remind me of her.
Some days, grief arrives like an old friend, her arms full of soft memories I can hold without flinching.
Other days, she’s more like junk mail—unsolicited, unavoidable.
I don’t want to deal with her, but if I ignore her, she’ll pile up and spill onto everything.
Even when she’s tip-toeing, she still requires my attention.
That’s the thing about grief:
she isn’t always beautiful.
She isn’t always welcome.
She doesn’t always come with poetry or wisdom tucked inside.
Sometimes, she’s just something you have to sort through, so you can get back to the life you’re living now.
Healing Insight:
Grief holds a strange duality, sometimes sacred, sometimes inconvenient… but both states serve a purpose.
She teaches us to meet her as she is, to accept that not every visit will feel profound or tender.
Some are simply necessary.
Sacred Integration:
When grief arrives, ask yourself:
Is she here to for a visit, or just passing by?
If she’s only passing, give her the brief acknowledgment she needs, then return her to the flow of time - stamped Return to Sender.
You can’t stop it from showing up, but you can sort it, and clear it, and keep going.