Being Better - Anne Moir

21/09/2025

"I heard from my neighbour's aunty's mailman's mum who doesn't even live here but saw a private post..."



Stop. Just stop.



Over the last couple of weeks in NZ, a family tragedy became a gossip free-for-all.

Within hours:

• Everyone had "insider facts" (they didn't)

• Every second person thought they knew how the police should have delt with it 'better'.

• Media wanted photos of where kids had hidden for 4 years.

• Random psychologists got their 15 seconds spouting what's "best for the kids"

• A film crew started assembling. Because obviously traumatized children need their nightmare on the big screen



Those aren't "facts." - That's grief p**n.



And society is addicted to it.



Here's what actually helps grieving families:

✓ Silence (unless you actually know them)

✓ Space (stop demanding details)

✓ Support (not speculation)



The truth? Your third hand "information" isn't helping anyone.

It's hurting real people in real pain.



Next time tragedy strikes, and you feel that itch to share what you "heard":



Don't.



Those kids don't need your theories.

The families involved don't need your hot take.

The police don’t need a lay person’s advice on how to best apprehend a fugitive.



They need us to shut up and let them 'ALL' grieve.



Harsh? Maybe.

True? Absolutely.



When did we become so entitled to other people's worst moments?

20/09/2025

Today Stephen would have been 54.

Instead, he's been gone nearly 13 years.

The math haunts me.
He's been gone longer than our eldest knew him.

The reality of that sentence hurts my heart to think about

But today isn't about the math.
It’s about the husband, the father, the son, the brother, the friend, the teacher, the mentor, the leader, the singer, the songwriter….
It's about the man who filled my wardrobe to the brim with Italian shirts. The man who fought for justice like it was oxygen. The man who wrote songs that made strangers cry. The man who made Being BETTER matter before it was ever a business.
The man who made ME want to be better just by being himself.
‘Being BETTER’ wouldn't exist without him.
Literally.

54 today.
13 years gone.
Forever 41.
But the math doesn't matter.

He was the BEST (not perfect – but perfect for me!!!)
So, I choose to still acknowledge the date.
I choose to still celebrate him.
I choose to still remember
Happy birthday, my love.

Always and forever.
Anne

16/09/2025

Last week, someone I'd never met died.

And I cried.



Not because I knew them personally. But because their story mirrored mine in a way that made my chest tight.



Their back story was totally different to mine. How the person died was totally unlike the journey that led to Stephen dying.

Yet there was a similarity in their experience that kicked me square in the guts and left me feeling oddly connected to them.

Here's what 12 years of widowhood has taught me about grieving people we've never met:

Your grief is valid. Full stop.



When someone's story echoes your own loss, even in a small way, your nervous system doesn't distinguish between "knew them" and "didn't know them."

It just knows: danger, loss, pain, memories.



Research shows we grieve in circles - each new loss can reactivate our grief network, lighting up old wounds like a twisted Christmas tree.



The neuroscience is fascinating: mirror neurons fire whether we experience loss directly or witness it. Our brains literally can't tell the difference between our pain and theirs.



So, when that actor who played your comfort character dies? When that musician whose songs got you through the darkest nights is gone? When that advocate who fought for what you believe in leaves us?



You're not "overreacting."

You're human.



And sometimes, grieving strangers teaches us how to grieve better.

Public mourning gives us permission to be messy with our own losses.



To everyone feeling foolish for crying over someone you never met: Your tears are teaching you something about what matters to you.



That's not silly. That's sacred. That’s being human.

12/09/2025

When grief dried me out from the inside, I discovered the strangest thing at my local café.

They served water with straws. Fat ones. And I drank the whole glass without thinking about it.

For months after Stephen died, plain water tasted like nothing. Getting through half a glass felt impossible. My body was shutting down non-essentials, and apparently staying hydrated didn't make the cut.

But that straw changed everything.

Turns out bars have been onto something all along. Those straws aren't just for cocktails - they're hydration psychology at work.

The science is simple: You drink 40% more through a straw. The thicker the straw, the faster you drink. No conscious effort required.

So I bought a pack of wide smoothie straws and started using them with everything I drank.

And something shifted. Water stopped being another grief task to fail at.

Now when grief makes everything taste like cardboard, I don't force it. I just put a straw in it.

Sometimes the smallest hacks make the biggest difference when you're treading water.



"TREADING WATER - NAVIGATING GRIEF INDUCED DEHYRATION!" is a series of posts designed to help support you and/or someone you love with the very real struggle of staying 'suitably hydrated' while living and dealing with grief.

Being BETTER - From Surviving to Thriving: Wellness Foundations for Life After Loss

It's possible. I'm living proof.
(Some days barely, but that counts too.)

12/09/2025

"TREADING WATER - NAVIGATING GRIEF INDUCED DEHYRATION!" is a series of posts designed to help support you and/or someone you love with the very real struggle of staying 'suitably hydrated' while living and dealing with grief.

Being BETTER - From Surviving to Thriving: Wellness Foundations for Life After Loss

It's possible. I'm living proof.
(Some days barely, but that counts too.)

09/09/2025

Life after loss can get super messy.

Being dehydrated at the best of times is a mistake we have likely all made: too busy, too distracted, to __________ (you fill in the gap).

When it is the 'worst of times', staying 'suitably hydrated' usually isn't even on our radar.

"TREADING WATER - NAVIGATING GRIEF INDUCED DEHYRATION!" is a series of posts designed to help support you and/or someone you love with the very real struggle of staying 'suitably hydrated' while living and dealing with grief.

Stay tuned by FOLLOWING this page (and please feel free to share far and wide).

Now, go grab a drink! (Like seriously - NOW!)

Being BETTER - From Surviving to Thriving: Wellness Foundations for Life After Loss

It's possible. I'm living proof.
(Some days barely, but that counts too.)

Are you ready to move from just surviving to Being BETTER?

06/09/2025

To every grieving soul whose morning coffee tastes like tears:

This is temporary.

These things too shall pass. (Even though it feels like forever)

Your senses will return.

In their own time.

And word of warning (if it is possible to be prepared for it), when they do, that first real taste of something good can feel like a double-edged sword.

Bittersweet.

The seemingly smallest positive sensory experience can feel super intense and flood you with memories and emotions that leave you feeling confronted and conflicted.

It can feel like betrayal.

Like your body was moving on without your permission

And here's where it gets tricky.

It’s important to remember that what you are feeling isn’t a betrayal.

It's not you "moving on."



It's your body saying: "Okay. We survived the worst. Now let's try a small taste of living again."

One bite at a time.

When we are grieving our body goes into survival mode.

When it comes our taste buds, even foods we once loved and craved can become bland and tasteless.

Over time and distance, as our body heals, our sense of taste begins to come back.

Slowly.

First with simple things.

Butter on warm bread.

The taste of fresh, sun ripened berries.

For me it was Bandy snaps – Stephen’s cheap and cheerful dessert fav.

Each flavour that slowly returned felt like a tiny victory.

A small sign that maybe, just maybe, I could find my way back to living - not just surviving.

Today, 12 years later, my 5 senses are all back up and running, I am no longer in survival mode.

Sometimes that's beautiful. Sometimes it's brutal - like when I catch the scent of his signature cologne (which one of our sons now wears on special occasions) and my knees buckle.

In those moments, I'm right back there.

In our lounge.

Watching him take his last breaths.

Wondering if I'll ever taste joy again.

But I'll take those feelings over feeling nothing at all.

Remember, you ‘being BETTER’ starts with simply ‘being’?

If you are needing or wanting support with your grief or know someone who is struggling with how and what to do next, please feel free to DM me for a FREE 15 min chat.

Being BETTER - From Surviving to Thriving: Wellness Foundations for Life After Loss



It's possible. I'm living proof.

(Some days barely, but that counts too.)





https://www.facebook.com/BeingBETTERAnneMoir

https://www.linkedin.com/in/anne-moir-839b5b3a/

https://stan.store/BeingBETTER-AnneMoir

04/09/2025

I couldn't taste food for 6 months after Stephen died.
Not metaphorically. Literally.

Everything tasted like cardboard soaked in grief.

Toast? Ash.
Herbal teas? Hot water with a hint of sadness.
Even chocolate – lost its appeal and tasted like sweet nothing

I'd sit at dinner with my 3 boys, mechanically chewing whatever I'd managed to throw together (too often it would be devilled sausages) wondering if I'd ever enjoy food again.

I found out later, that there was a name for my ‘condition’: "grief-induced sensory disruption."

It's a fancy name that means, your nervous system is drowning in trauma and has shut down "non-essential" functions.

Trauma literally rewires our sensory processing.

It can affect how and what your taste, how and what you smell, how and what you feel – pretty much your everything.


Here's something that 12 years of widowhood has taught me about how grief hijacks your body:

Your senses aren't broken - they're actually protecting you.
(In hindsight I can see that now – after all, we are fearfully and wonderfully designed)


When Stephen died, my body was thrown into full survival mode.
Every ounce of energy was redirected to:

Keeping me breathing (barely)
Supporting my boys in their grief (and keeping them supplied with devilled sausages)
Pretending I was okay when people asked (I wasn’t. Not even close)

There was nothing left for taste buds.

It wasn't just food.

Colours looked muted.
Like someone had turned down the saturation on life.
Music (the medium I could usually rely on to keep me ground and bring me joy) felt hollow.
Even our favorite songs lacked that special something without him around.
Hugs couldn't quite reach through the numbness.


I thought I was going crazy.


I wasn't.


I was grieving.

And you know what, grief doesn't follow the neat little stages they teach you about. It shows up in your gut, your sleep, your senses, your cells. It’s messy and unpredictable and no one person grieves the same as any other.


If you're reading this with tears in your eyes because food tastes like nothing on account of experiencing a loss...


You're not crazy.
You're not broken.
You're human.


Your body is doing exactly what it needs to do to survive.

The taste came back. Slowly.

First with simple things. Butter on warm bread. The taste of fresh, sun ripened berries. Bandy snaps – Stephen’s cheap and cheerful dessert fav.

Each flavour that slowly returned felt like a tiny victory.

(Watch out for my next post, where I explain how this tiny victory can also be a double edge sword with a pretty sharp edge.)

Start with one taste today.

Remember, you ‘being BETTER’ starts with simply ‘being’?

What sensory changes did grief bring to your door?
You're safe to share here.

Sometimes naming it helps.

Being BETTER - From Surviving to Thriving: Wellness Foundations for Life After Loss

It's possible. I'm living proof.
(Some days barely, but that counts too.)

Are you ready to move from just surviving to Being BETTER?

https://www.facebook.com/BeingBETTERAnneMoir
https://www.linkedin.com/in/anne-moir-839b5b3a/
https://stan.store/BeingBETTER-AnneMoir

31/08/2025

Whether you are an extrovert or an introvert, having people in your corner when you are struggling can be invaluable. People to chew the fat with, people who will just listen (without judgement or trying to solve things), people you can 'do something' with, be inspired by or you can inspire.

It may seem like a small thing but the research is showing us that connections with others is associated with greater longevity.

This piece of art by Wendy Lineham, has been created with the aim of starting conversations around building communities and creating spaces where healing happens naturally through connection. Places and spaces where people can find help and support, rather than feeling like they need to navigate struggles alone.

Here are 'Being BETTER - Anne Moir', my aim is to do just that.
I am building a community that supports, encourages, empowers, resources....or is simply a safe place to quietly rest and be.
Because grief touches every one of us.

'Your Being BETTER' community is here for you and your grief.
Being BETTER - From Surviving to Thriving: Wellness Foundations for Life After Loss

It's possible. I'm living proof.
(Some days barely, but that counts too.)

Are you ready to move from just surviving to Being BETTER?
Sign up for FREE and start with our 'BETTER Sleep' guide here:
https://stan.store/BeingBETTER-AnneMoir

https://www.instagram.com/p/DN1eVwJ5qWQ/
Wendy Lineham is a Nelson, New Zealand based artist with an interest in challenging societal issues through the use of symbolism.

Send a message to learn more

26/08/2025

Comment below if you HATE these sort of memes!!!!

25/08/2025

Almost a year to the date of Stephen’s initial cancer diagnosis, we were sent home form the hospital and told to say Goodbye!

They estimated, if we were lucky, we’d get 2 weeks more weeks together.

It was a week before Christmas.

The same Christmas we should have been spending in ‘who knows where’?
Living our dream, having the adventure of lifetime – the one from our blueprint.

We went home and we kept fighting.

6 weeks later, I stood in our lounge, next to a shiny, extra-long casket. (He was 6'2". Apparently too tall for the one I'd initially chosen.)

Standing alone, surrounded by family and friends.
Still clutching our blueprints.
Still thinking somehow, I could make them work

But our dreams could never work without him.

We were supposed to do this together – that is what I signed up for.
You can't retrofit a future designed for Mum, Dad and 3 kids.


Here's what 12 years taught me…
At some point - and there's no timeline for this - you find yourself ready to being creating a new blueprint.

Not a better one.
Not a replacement one.
Just... a different one.

One idea at a time.
One dream at a time.
One 'next right thing' at a time.

My new future doesn't include Stephen. (I still hate typing that)

Some days I still get super angry that our future that was stolen from us.
Some days I find myself sitting, pondering the ‘what ifs’ – that can obviously never be answered.
Some days I wonder which countries we would have visited.
What impact would our adventures have had on our boys?
Would we still be travelling?
Or would we have come home, satisfied?


All these questions will be forever left unanswered.

But I've learned something valuable, and it took time.


You can grieve your lost future AND build a new one.
They're not mutually exclusive.

The new blueprint doesn't dishonour the old one.
It's just the next right thing.


To everyone grieving the life you thought you'd have:

Your pain is valid. Your lost dreams matter. Your future feels impossible because you're still clutching the old blueprints.


When you're ready (and only when YOU'RE ready): Start sketching again. Small lines. Rough drafts. Maybe just one tiny dream to start.


The future won't look like you planned.
But it can still be beautiful.
Different beautiful.
Unexpected beautiful.

If you are grieving the loss of your own blueprints. If you are not sure how or even what the 'next right thing' is to do or try, let's have a chat. That is 100% what I am here for. DM me here or at https://www.linkedin.com/in/anne-moir-839b5b3a/

https://stan.store/BeingBETTER-AnneMoir