Life’s updates

Why I’ve been quiet, and what’s next

Hello sweet grief tending community,

For years I’ve written as a way to contain the overflowing river of feeling– seemingly too much, too deeply. The empty white page is a safe place to find myself, over and over again. Then, somehow by magic, in touching something truthful enough deep within my heart, I’m able to reach yours, and together, we both feel a little less alone.

So you can imagine how strange it’s felt not to be writing. I’ve barely posted on Instagram these past twelve months. I’ve written a literal handful of Substack posts. And my own journal has remained mostly empty, save for a few ‘dear love, what would you have me know today’ letters, inspired, as always, by Elizabeth Gilbert’s community.

I guess it makes sense, though. I write to explore what I know to be true– and this last year, I haven’t been sure of knowing much at all.

I’ve been changing. Becoming someone entirely new.

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I’ve been growing and creating and falling in love with a beautiful little human– who is currently still kicking and rolling her days in the last few weeks (or days?) of womb-space bliss.

I’ve been guiding our fifth cycle of The Art of Grief Tending training, with thirty of the most kind, visionary, brave, thoughtful and powerful women I’ve ever had the honour of sitting with.

I’ve been building a home and planting, for the first time, a small garden.

I’ve been tending my heart as we come up to the ten-year mark of my dearest Mum’s suicide. Noticing the quiet shifts of healing as I move further from the role of daughter and into the role of mother myself. Holding my inner little one, who is becoming a mother, without her mother.

I’ve been walking, every day. Watching the forest move from stillness and frost, to full bloom and sweet bird chatter.

I’ve been rooting into place, allowing myself to receive threads of belonging and friendship here in Somerset. Building real, in-person, tangible community in our village– with our neighbours.

Some days, all it’s felt like I’ve been doing is listening. Listening to the heartache and stories of some of my dearest friends as they’ve moved through difficult winters.

I’ve been sleeping, whenever I can, whenever I feel the pull, learning to trust my animal body, to hear its subtle speak.

I’ve been in therapy. Sometimes twice a week. Learning how to be witnessed in my mess, and perhaps even loved in it.

I’ve been expanding The Grief Space to welcome more co-facilitators and volunteer assistants. Slowly rewriting the story that I have to do it all alone.

I’ve been learning to set boundaries (even when they’re scary) and discovering how much can shift as a result.

I’ve been reading novels. Lots of them. Nothing cultural or philosophical or psychological or spiritual. Just stories.

I’ve been dancing. I’ve been praying. I’ve been cooking.

I’ve been dreaming into the evolution of The Grief Space, planting seeds for a training programme that feels more easeful, more joyful, more impactful and sustainable.

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But more than anything, sweet one– as I write these words to you, I realise that most of all, I’ve been happy. Not in the sense of upbeat or joyful every day, but in the quieter sense: peaceful, settled, content.

After ten years of breaking apart every corner of my heart and every aspect of my life, I finally feel a sense of ease. Just in time, my husband and I often laugh together. Just in time.

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So that’s all for now, lovely one. A quiet pop-up to say hello, as I descend into the birth portal– soft and ready to meet my brave little daughter who dares to come into the world at this wild moment in time. She’s excited, I can feel it. And I am too.

Heaps of love from my heart to yours.

If you’re drawn to The Art of Grief Tending training, sign up to the waitlist and we’ll be in touch in January with details of the next programme.

With love, Nici (& willow, & babe)