You’re the one who holds it together at the hospital. The one who manages everyone’s emotions at the funeral. The one who says “I’m fine” so convincingly that people actually believe you.

But late at night? You’re drowning. I know because I've been there.

For years, I wore different masks—one for work, one at home, one with friends. Each mask said “I’m fine” while everything inside was falling apart. I buried my grief in 60-hour work weeks. I told myself I was too busy to fall apart.

Then my body made the decision for me.

I ended up in the hospital—twice—because grief doesn’t just disappear when you ignore it. It was the aftermath of caring for my elderly grandparents, watching them decline, and then losing them that finally broke me open. Add in the relationships that didn’t work out and the deaths of other family members, colleagues, friends… and I realized I had years of unprocessed grief that I’d been running from.

That’s when everything changed. I stopped running. I started feeling. I learned (the hard way) that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s the only path to real healing.

Now I’m here to guide others who are ready to take off their masks and embrace their new (unwanted) reality in the midst of grief, heartache, and pain. Not because I have all the answers (I don't), but because I sat in a similar place to where you’re sitting now.