Last Sunday, I woke up and thought, “I survived another year.”
Cue the relief, the gratitude, and the quiet sense of pride.
This year marked 7 years since my mom passed… and each anniversary feels a little different. A little lighter. A little more spacious. A little more colourful.
What struck me most this year was how much I could hold at once.
I felt gratitude, love, and joy — and also deep sadness, pain, and grief. Before I even got out of bed, waves of emotion moved through me. Gratitude for the time we shared and the connection we had… alongside the reality that it no longer looks the way I wish it did.
As the day unfolded, those waves continued to move.
While facilitating at an event last Saturday, I felt moments of awe and deep love for the women in front of me. And at one point, a song came on — one I had chosen myself the night before — and suddenly, it took my breath away. Tears came. Unexpected, unplanned, but completely welcome.
Later, I went to a juice bar — a place where I feel really connected to my mom. A series of “oldies” started playing, one after the other, and I couldn’t help but laugh. It felt like her. And just like that, tears again — soft, subtle, but present.
Then in the ocean, surrounded by families, the sun, and the waves, another wave of emotion moved through me. Gratitude. Love. A deep appreciation for what we had.
And in each of these moments, I noticed something:
I had a choice.
I could soften, breathe, witness, and be with what was there…
Or, I could grip, harden, and attach to the pain — allowing it to cloud the beauty that was also present.
We always have choice.
That said, what I’ve come to understand is that this choice becomes available only when your nervous system feels safe… because if your body is braced, tense, or quietly “waiting for the other shoe to drop,” it can feel almost impossible to choose love, joy, or peace. It can feel confronting — even unsafe.
When your system is regulated — when you feel grounded in your body, supported in yourself, and connected to something greater — everything shifts.
You begin to trust yourself more.
You soften more easily.
And you create space to hold both the grief and the joy, the pain and the beauty, the loss and the love.
Over time, my relationship with grief has changed.
I no longer see it as something purely heavy, or something to “get through.” Grief has become a space of release, growth, connection, love, forgiveness — and even joy.
It comes when it comes. It goes when it goes.
And the most gentle way I’ve found to move through it is to honour its flow. To release the idea that it should look a certain way or follow a specific timeline, and instead simply open to, witness, and express whatever arises. Because in doing so, it expands our capacity for love, for joy, and for life itself.
And sometimes… that expression doesn’t look how we expect…
It doesn’t have to be quiet or still.
Sometimes, it looks like dancing.
Last Sunday, I went to ecstatic dance — and I danced my heart out. I moved through layers of grief I didn’t even know were still there, while laughing, smiling, and feeling completely alive on the dance floor.
It was FUN.
Light. Free. Expansive.
That’s the part we don’t talk about enough — that healing can feel good. That processing emotions doesn’t always have to feel heavy.
When we allow energy to move — through breath, through the body, through expression — we create space. And in that space, more becomes available: more joy, more love, more aliveness, more presence.
This is the work.
Not avoiding emotions. Not bypassing them. But learning how to be with them — safely. Letting them move, letting them inform you, without letting them define you.
Because emotions are simply energy in motion.
There was a time when I would get completely consumed by the heavier emotions — caught in the stories, looping in fear, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all… But through support, somatic work, breath, mindfulness, and nervous system regulation, I’ve learned something powerful:
I get to choose where I place my attention.
Yes, I open to what’s there.
Yes, I process what arises.
Yes, there is always more to release.
And also — I get to choose joy. I get to choose peace. I get to choose love.
Not by forcing it, but by creating the internal safety that allows it.
So if you’re moving through grief, change, or uncertainty right now, let this be a gentle reminder:
There is more available to you than you might think.
You can feel the depth of it all… and still experience beauty, connection, and joy.
You always have choice.
And that choice becomes clearer the more safe you feel within yourself.
Maybe today, that looks like something simple: taking a breath; softening your body; letting something move through you.
Or even turning on a song… and dancing it out.
You don’t have to hold it all so tightly.
There is space for all of it.
And there is so much life still here to be lived 🤍
If this reflection resonates… if you’re noticing patterns, emotions, or layers within yourself that you’re ready to process and release — you don’t have to do it alone.
I have a couple of spaces remaining inside my RECALIBRATE Method 1:1 Mentorship — a space where we gently work with your nervous system, rewire your thought patterns, and tap into the wisdom from your lived experiences so you THRIVE through change and lead with greater clarity, confidence and ease.
There’s no pressure — just an invitation.
👉 You can learn more HERE.