For those of you who’ve been reading my posts, you know I’ve been providing palliative care for my friend over the past few months. Last week was her funeral, which felt both surreal and painfully real.

The sadness of love lingers. It’s in the nonsensical conversations, the deep talks, the shared paths we built and nurtured. And the practice we started together. Now, it’s the little things that hit the hardest, not hearing her voice anymore, not having her around to tell me whether my latest idea is pure nonsense or maybe, just maybe, a brilliant blockbuster.

This week

Honestly, this week would’ve been overwhelming enough on its own. My daughter’s rehabilitation days are winding down, but they’re becoming more difficult. My youngest son is juggling school with working at a Michelin-star restaurant. And in the midst of it all, my husband and I are doing our best to keep our business running.

I haven’t been doing personal sessions with clients for a while now because the busy schedule makes it impossible to manage. This Thursday, after a chaotic week, we’re planning to see Jimmy Carr, just to escape everything for a while and hopefully share some laughter.

The old practice

Our practice was something special. Four women, each an expert in their own niche: personal development, business, relationships, and trauma. Together, we tackled these areas within psychology as a team. But due to various circumstances, especially Covid, we had to close the practice.

It’s sad that it ended the way it did. The collaboration worked. Different perspectives coming together to create something meaningful. And we weren’t just therapists, we were all writers too, each of us publishing books on our chosen subjects.

Cancer and my circle of friends

This morning brought more heartbreaking news. Another friend, my fellow author, therapist, and what I’ve always called my emotionally adopted little sister, only has a short time left to live. Metastatic breast cancer.

I see her every few days, but watching her decline so rapidly is beyond devastating. Cancer is a brutal battlefield that destroys not only the person fighting it but everyone around them.

We had plans. We were going to take another vacation this summer, continue working on our book. But life had other plans. This morning, we just lay there, side by side, holding hands... words weren’t necessary.

Her family is holding up as best they can, but I can see the strain. The children are drowning in nine-hour school days followed by three hours of after-school activities. It’s a cruel structure, really. Maybe it provides them some distraction, but they should at least have the choice.

My story on hive

Since Bjorn told me I needed to post something on Hive again, life has been throwing everything at me. But I’ve always chosen to be there for my friends, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.

Showing up here consistently feels like an impossible task right now, but I’ll do my best to be present. It’ll come in waves, just like life does.

Warm regards.