Grief in large bursts

Abby G.

Between 1998 and 2009 12 members of my family died, including my parents and all my grandparents. I have developed a profound relationship with grief and loss, and I am often someone others turn to when they need help processing a loss. I navigated all of these deaths in my 20s because I had to, and along the way I learned a lot about grace, grief, and everything else that goes into making a life without the people you expected to be in it. I have made a life out of grief and the understanding that facing our grief can help us feel both connected and free. It can be hard to find people who want to talk about grief with you, but if you are looking for someone to do just that, I'd be honored to connect with you.

Grieving the loss of a parent

Abby G.

By the time I was 31, both of my parents had passed away. My dad died of cancer when I was 21 and my mom died in her sleep one night in early September 2009. I had just gotten engaged and we'd just chatted on the phone a couple of nights before and she was gone. I found myself navigating adulthood without parents and I felt untethered and unmoored. Facing a future, even facing getting married and starting a whole new chapter of my life without my mom by my side was terrifying and grief-filled. Adulthood without my mom has been different than the adulthood I envisioned. I was a very late in life baby for my dad, so there weren't as many expectations that he'd still be here as I moved towards middle age (he'd be 103 to my 47!), but I had always pictured my mom nearby as I navigated life, career, marriage, and parenting. The grief of the first years she was gone was immense and loudly present. As I age, the grief is still there, but it changes it weight and shape as I change, too. I'd be happy to talk through parent-loss and all the ripple effects it has on our lives if you're looking for someone who understands.

Getting sober after alcohol became your way of life

Adam A.

Drinking started off as fun something that helped quiet my mind and made life feel easier. I became a bartender, so it fit right into my world. But over time, it became how I dealt with everything: stress, loneliness, heartbreak. I lost a relationship I really cared about because of it, and when a family member passed, I hit one of the darkest points of my life. I tried Naltrexone, but what really changed things was realizing I just couldn’t live like that anymore. Getting sober wasn’t just about quitting it was about learning who I was without alcohol. That part was harder than I expected. But now, I’m clear-headed, present, and proud of how far I’ve come. If you’re questioning your relationship with drinking, I’ve been there and I’d be glad to talk through it with you.

Setting boundaries with toxic parents

Agnes H.

When I was 23, my mom passed away from cancer and I became the legal guardian of my three younger siblings. My father had already left the country when I was 16 after multiple suicide attempts, and my relationship with him was always complicated by his untreated borderline personality disorder. For years, I struggled with guilt, grief, and the intense pressure of raising my siblings while managing my own emotions. Therapy, journaling, and deep self-reflection helped me realize that protecting my peace sometimes meant making painful decisions. I eventually had to enforce boundaries, including getting a restraining order and later choosing not to respond when my father tried to reconnect with hurtful words. Now, at 41, I can look back and see how much strength it took to prioritize my emotional well-being. Through years of therapy and self-work, I’ve learned how to set and maintain healthy boundaries even when it feels heavy. I would love to support anyone going through the complicated, emotional process of setting limits with a parent who can’t or won’t change.

Navigating the challenges of foster/adoptive parenting of children with special needs

Amber R.

I’m a married foster/adoptive mom of three (sometimes more) children with special needs, and I’ve walked through every dark space in the foster and adoption world. My journey started when I became a foster parent with my husband in 2017, right after we got married in 2013. Growing up in an underserved community in St. Louis, I faced tremendous adversity. After my father died by suicide, I stepped up to raise my younger siblings while my mother battled mental health issues and was absent from our lives for a time. I had many mentors along the way who kept me alive and helped me stay out of trouble. Today, I run a non-profit with four other foster moms to provide support in the foster care system. Parenting children with special needs is incredibly isolating, and I’ve been through the extremes — including one of my oldest children attempting homicide. I understand how lonely it can feel when marriage, family, and friendships feel lost, and I’m here to listen and offer support, whether it’s simply holding space or providing encouragement in taking the next right step.

Grieving the loss of a romantic partner

Amy M.

I lost my partner suddenly when I was 31, and nothing could have prepared me for the tidal wave of grief that followed. There were so many layers to it, he struggled with drugs and alcohol, and I carried around a lot of guilt, embarrassment, and confusion in addition to the sadness. At the time, I didn’t really have a support system, and I felt alone in the experience, unsure how to even begin healing. Eventually, I started working with therapists, one of whom became a lifeline for me through the early, messy stages of grief. Over time, I came to understand that grief isn’t linear, and there’s no “right way” to mourn someone you love. What helped me most was time, reflection, and yes, even humor, when I was ready for it. I’ve since been there for others walking through their own losses, offering validation and a listening ear when things don’t feel “normal” or easy to explain. If you’re in the middle of that kind of heartbreak, I’d be honored to hold space with you.

Rebuilding your life after a natural disaster

Angela V.

When a Category 5 hurricane hit Florida, I lost everything I owned. In just one day, my home, my belongings, and my sense of stability were all gone. What followed were months of uncertainty, moving through 11 different living situations before I found somewhere that felt even remotely safe again. It was disorienting and humbling. I didn’t have a roadmap, only the belief that I had made it this far in life, rising from a small town in West Virginia with no college degree to leading teams, and that I could keep going. The emotional weight of that loss lingered long after the winds died down. Over time, I rebuilt not just my home, but myself. I learned to trust the process, to find peace in instability, and to let creativity, like poetry, help me release what I was holding. Now, I create space for others to explore their own recovery after loss: whether it's through conversation or writing, I offer a judgment-free zone to unpack what it really feels like to start over.

Navigating loss with love and honesty

Angela V.

I’ve known the weight of grief—the kind that rearranges your world without your permission. I’ve lost people I deeply loved, including both of my parents, and each loss carved a different shape into my heart. There were times I felt like I was floating in space—disconnected, overwhelmed, and unsure how to move forward when nothing felt the same anymore. Grief doesn’t follow a timeline. It shows up in waves: sometimes fierce and crashing, other times soft and aching. I’ve also grieved relationships that ended—romantic ones and friendships—that once felt foundational. And I’ve learned that grief is not just about death, but about the loss of what was, or what we hoped would be. What’s helped me most is learning to feel it all without rushing the process. Giving myself permission to remember, to cry, to laugh, to talk about them. To honor the love without denying the pain. If you’re grieving someone or something right now, you don’t need to carry it alone. We can talk about your person. Your heartbreak. Your healing. No fixing—just presence, empathy, and space for your story.

Grieving the loss of a family member

Angelia P.

I’ve had quite a few losses in my life. The first one began with my grandmother and the more recent one was my mother. The loss of a family is always pretty challenging especially when others cannot relate. The first time I lost a loved one happened to be my grandmother that cared and raised me. She took me in as I was her own. She supported me and loved me through everything. She was my safe haven. She was all I knew. She was blessed to live until 88 years of age; however in my mind I thought she would live forever. The hardest part for me was knowing she passed away all alone. I wondered to myself how she must’ve felt knowing she was about to die and no one was there. The worst for me is that her reason of death is unknown. The after process of planning for her funeral and burial felt like numbing task. It felt surreal. I couldn’t seem to shed a tear. In my mind it was all a dream and my grandmother would wake up. I now realized through therapy and counselling that I was disassociating. After several months of her passing was when reality hit me. I thought to myself; wow is she really gone? I would remember all the good times we had and my favourite memory of all was when she would cook me my favourite meals whenever I was upset. The first year was the hardest. I would stay in bed for hours. I would avoid going out at all costs. I couldn’t even care for my kids the way I wanted to. I felt hopeless! One day I felt the need to pray. I thought to mylsef, my children need me. How could I give up on them? What should I do? As I prayed I felt so much peace. This gave me the strength to face my reality and realize I needed professional help. I sought out therapy and counselling. I was able to be paired with some of the best therapist that helped me understand that I fell into a deep depression and the tools I needed to overcome so that I may succeed in all areas of my life. This decision also led me to work at a mental health clinic where I received so much insight and tools. If you are experiencing a loss, you are not alone! I am very honoured and grateful to be able to share what I’ve learned and how I managed to come out of one of the most darkest moments of my life. I am optimistic that it can help you overcome what you’re currently going through while providing you insight.

Healing from the guilt of not being able to save a loved one from addiction

Anne B.

My brother’s battle with addiction consumed his life, and I spent years trying to save him. I loved him deeply and did everything I could to help, but in the end, addiction took his life. The guilt of not being able to save him has weighed heavily on me. I often wondered if I could’ve done more, or if I missed signs along the way. It took a long time to accept that addiction is a disease and not a failure on anyone’s part. I had to forgive myself for not being able to fix his pain. But this journey hasn’t been just about my brother. I’ve struggled with my own mental health, battling depression and anxiety, and coming to terms with the trauma of growing up in a narcissistic home. Healing from those experiences, especially after my mom passed away, has shown me how hard it is to break free from cycles of shame. Yet, I’ve learned that it’s possible to heal from guilt and to find peace, even after loss.

Healing from the guilt of not being able to save a loved one from addiction

Anne B.

My brother’s battle with addiction consumed his life, and I spent years trying to save him. I loved him deeply and did everything I could to help, but in the end, addiction took his life. The guilt of not being able to save him has weighed heavily on me. I often wondered if I could’ve done more, or if I missed signs along the way. It took a long time to accept that addiction is a disease and not a failure on anyone’s part. I had to forgive myself for not being able to fix his pain. But this journey hasn’t been just about my brother. I’ve struggled with my own mental health, battling depression and anxiety, and coming to terms with the trauma of growing up in a narcissistic home. Healing from those experiences, especially after my mom passed away, has shown me how hard it is to break free from cycles of shame. Yet, I’ve learned that it’s possible to heal from guilt and to find peace, even after loss.

Navigating grief after losing a parent

Anya Y.

When I was 15, my father passed away. We had a complicated relationship, so grieving him didn’t look like what most people expect. It was messy and confusing, and I often felt isolated because people only seemed to support me for the first few months. Years later, my mother passed when I was 32, and the loss hit me in a totally different way. I learned firsthand that grief has no timeline and no one-size-fits-all path. Through therapy, self-reflection, and a lot of trial and error, I found ways to honor my feelings without forcing myself into anyone else's idea of "healing." Now, I help others who are grieving — especially those whose relationships with the deceased were complicated — find their own permission to grieve authentically. You don’t have to fit into a neat box to move through your loss, and you don’t have to do it alone.

Coping with suicide loss and rebuilding life after alcohol dependence

April Sue P.

Losing my partner to suicide was a devastating, life-changing experience. The grief I felt was unlike anything I could have prepared for—deep, overwhelming, and filled with guilt. In an attempt to manage this intense emotional pain, I turned to alcohol. What started as a way to numb the pain quickly spiraled into daily drinking. It was a way to escape the feelings of helplessness and the constant question of "What could I have done differently?" Within a few months, I experienced even more loss. My mother and a father figure passed away unexpectedly, each loss compounding the emotional weight I was carrying. The grief and trauma began to take a serious toll on my mental health, and alcohol became my coping mechanism. I wasn’t just grieving anymore; I was trying to numb the pain so I wouldn’t have to feel it. At my lowest, I reached a breaking point. After another difficult night of drinking and self-loathing, I realized how much I had been using alcohol to avoid dealing with the grief I hadn’t processed. I reached out to my HR Director, who helped me take time off to focus on my mental health. I spent a week in the hospital, detoxing and beginning the process of recovery. That experience gave me clarity: I couldn’t keep using alcohol to manage my grief. Though the path hasn’t been easy, I’m learning to face my emotions head-on without relying on substances. It’s a slow process, but every day I am learning to heal and rebuild my life.

Bipolar disorder let's talk it through

Brandi S.

You are not alone, and together we can find ways to live a full and meaningful life with bipolar disorder. I understand the highs and lows, the confusion and clarity that come with this journey. I'm here to offer a safe, non-judgmental space where you can share your experiences, ask questions, and look into ways to manage your symptoms. We can talk about what it was like to be diagnosed, how to build a routine that supports your well-being, how important it is to take care of yourself, and how to find hope at every step of your recovery.

Finding peace after loss

Calvin N.

Losing my stepdad and dad within a year of each other shattered my world. One raised me with unconditional love, while the other, despite a rocky road, became a true friend before he passed. I felt waves of sadness, guilt, anger, and deep loneliness—and those waves hit even harder during milestones and quiet moments. I also know firsthand the pain of losing beloved pets, having worked in the pet industry for years and been an animal lover my whole life. That grief is just as real and raw. On top of that, I’ve experienced the heartbreak of grieving relationships with people who are still alive—estrangement and broken bonds that left a deep emptiness. Through therapy, writing, and self-compassion, I learned to sit with my pain while still moving forward, honoring my losses in a personal, meaningful way. Grief taught me there’s no timeline and no “right way” to heal—and now I help others navigate this deeply personal journey.

Healing after the sudden loss of a long-term partner

Charlen M.

Two years ago, I lost my partner of 33 years—suddenly and without warning. After spending over three decades building a life together, the absence was staggering. I’d been through amicable divorces before, but nothing prepares you for this kind of void. I remember feeling like I was floating outside of myself—managing the logistics while inside I was crumbling. The quiet was loud, and the smallest things would undo me. As a therapist for 30 years, I had all the tools, but living through it? That’s another story. I leaned heavily on my daughters and close friends, and eventually, the fog began to lift. What helped most was honoring my grief without letting it define me—finding comfort in routine, giving myself permission to laugh again, and talking to others who’d been through something similar. I joined Fello because I know how lonely this road can be, and I want to be the kind of support I wish I’d had at the beginning.

Overcoming misdiagnosis and finding the right support

Crystal M.

For years, I struggled with a mix of misdiagnosed conditions, medical mismanagement, and an undiagnosed spinal cord injury. I was prescribed medication from a young age—starting with depression and bipolar meds at just 11 years old—and forced to take them until I was 25. As a result, I began using substances like marijuana, cocaine, Xanax, and methamphetamine to cope with the side effects and numb the pain. I didn’t know it then, but I was self-medicating a much deeper issue. By the time I was 25, I had lost two fiancés and had been through the foster care system and multiple years in county jail. It was during this time of drug use that I began to trace the true cause of my struggles. When I looked into the effects of methamphetamine and marijuana on my body, I discovered a serious cervical subluxation that had been ignored by doctors for years. It turned out I wasn’t just battling addiction; I had very real physical and developmental issues. Once I was able to get the right diagnosis and medication, my life started to change. I’m now pursuing an education in neuropsychology, advocating for others, and sharing my journey to offer hope and understanding to those who need it most.

Experience in suicide of a life partner

Crystal M.

I understand the agonizing internal battle, the profound despair, and the complex mental landscape that can lead someone to consider ending their own life, because I have personally walked through that darkness and wrestled with suicidal ideation for years. This isn't theoretical knowledge; it's lived experience etched into my own being. This journey has given me a deep, visceral empathy for the struggles that lead someone to that point, allowing me to approach conversations about suicide with a level of understanding and non-judgmental presence that comes from having faced those demons myself. When someone is reeling from the suicide of their life partner, they need someone who doesn't flinch from the reality of suicidal pain, someone who can sit with them in the raw grief and confusion without fear or judgment. Beyond understanding the internal state of the person lost, I also know the unique, devastating pain of being the one left behind when a life partner dies by suicide. I have personally navigated the immediate shock, the crushing guilt that survivors often carry, the endless loop of "what ifs," and the profound sense of being abandoned. This experience, losing my own fiancé to suicide, has taught me about the specific kind of grief that follows this type of loss – a grief often compounded by societal stigma, a painful search for answers that may never come, and the challenge of explaining an unfathomable tragedy to others. I understand the isolation that settles in, the feeling that nobody truly grasps the depth and specificity of this wound. My experience as an autistic individual further shapes my capacity to connect with those grieving a partner's suicide. I have spent my life navigating a world that often misunderstands my intentions, my communication, and my very way of being, leading to deep-seated feelings of isolation and disconnection – feelings that are often amplified exponentially for those left behind by suicide. I don't expect grief to look a certain way or adhere to neurotypical timelines or expressions. My mind seeks understanding by digging into the "why" and challenging conventional narratives, which can be incredibly validating for someone trying to make sense of the nonsensical. I offer a space built on radical empathy, authenticity, and a profound respect for the individual's unique journey through unimaginable pain, understanding that true healing comes from being seen, heard, and validated exactly where you are in your grief.

Breaking free from unhealthy coping mechanisms and building healthier habits

Cynthia E.

I grew up with a lot of instability. My dad was an alcoholic, and my mom worked a lot, which meant I had to become independent at a young age. My grandma was my main source of support, and when she passed away, I started turning to alcohol to cope with the grief and the pressure of managing everything on my own. I hadn’t realized how dependent I had become until one night, I found myself unable to sleep because I didn’t have alcohol. That’s when I knew something needed to change. I reached out to my friends for support, went to my doctor, and started attending support groups. I quit drinking, but it wasn’t easy. There were a lot of tough moments, and I had to face emotions I had been avoiding for a long time. Over time, I learned how to trust others and set boundaries, and I started to focus on healing emotionally from my past. Now, I work as a peer support specialist, helping others who are facing similar struggles. I want to be someone who listens and helps others break free from unhealthy habits and create a life that feels more balanced and healthy.

Breaking free from unhealthy coping mechanisms and building healthier habits

Cynthia E.

I grew up with a lot of instability. My dad was an alcoholic, and my mom worked a lot, which meant I had to become independent at a young age. My grandma was my main source of support, and when she passed away, I started turning to alcohol to cope with the grief and the pressure of managing everything on my own. I hadn’t realized how dependent I had become until one night, I found myself unable to sleep because I didn’t have alcohol. That’s when I knew something needed to change. I reached out to my friends for support, went to my doctor, and started attending support groups. I quit drinking, but it wasn’t easy. There were a lot of tough moments, and I had to face emotions I had been avoiding for a long time. Over time, I learned how to trust others and set boundaries, and I started to focus on healing emotionally from my past. Now, I work as a peer support specialist, helping others who are facing similar struggles. I want to be someone who listens and helps others break free from unhealthy habits and create a life that feels more balanced and healthy.