Good Grief

15/01/2025

Sadness came to tea last night
as she’s often done before
but I didn’t let her in this time
I stopped her at the door

“I’m off to meet with friends”, I said
“your timing isn’t right
I can’t allow your atmosphere
it’s not the place tonight”

but sadness wouldn’t take the hint
her manners lack finesse
her pace was slow and heavy
yet she kept up nonetheless

and even when I took my place
amongst my laughing friends
she squeezed herself right in-between
her boldness never ends

and I was sure my friends would see
this spectre at the feast
and somehow think me lesser
for inviting such a beast

but no, their warmth was undeterred
as if nothing was new
I think perhaps they know by now
I sometimes come as two

and even sadness seemed to glow
a lighter shade of grey
to know that she’s accepted
seemed to lighten up her day

so let your sad accompany you
don’t think her hard to bear
no need to face her all alone
just pull an extra chair.

Donna Ashworth
‘Sadness comes’

From Growing Brave 🌱

UK: https://amzn.eu/d/0h6ASuCQ
US: https://a.co/d/cboRlcn

The art is by Galya Popova

Much love to all, let us strive to be kinder to ourselves and others.

14/01/2025

Extráñame, pero vive...
(Por Fernando D'Sandi )

¡Llórame! Llórame con toda la fuerza que tu alma herida permita. Grita mi nombre si lo necesitas, deja que el vacío te atraviese, que el dolor queme y consuma cada rincón de tu pecho. Pero después, escucha bien: no te quedes ahí. No uses mi ausencia como una excusa para detenerte.

¿Crees que vine a tu vida para que el día de mi partida te dejaras morir conmigo? ¡No! No te atrevas a apagar tu luz por mi sombra. Yo no soy el fin de tu historia. Soy un capítulo, sí, uno importante, uno que te marcó y que siempre estará ahí, pero tu vida no se detiene porque la mía lo haya hecho.

El dolor es un maestro cruel, lo sé. Te arranca pedazos, te deja desnudo frente a tu fragilidad. Pero también te enseña, si lo dejas, que sigues de pie. Porque aquí estás, respirando, luchando, sintiendo. Y mientras sigas aquí, tienes un deber: vivir. No por mí, no por los demás. Por ti. Por lo que eres.

No uses mi recuerdo como un ancla. Úsalo como un faro, como una guía que ilumine tu camino cuando todo parezca perdido. Recuerda nuestras risas, nuestros abrazos, pero no te quedes atrapado en ellos. Yo no quiero que seas un museo de memorias, quiero que seas un río que fluye, que avanza, que transforma todo lo que toca.

Así que, sí, extráñame. Permítete ese duelo, porque es amor lo que te duele. Pero después de cada lágrima, después de cada noche oscura, elige vivir. Elige reír, amar, caer y levantarte otra vez. Elige seguir, porque eso es lo que yo haría si estuviera en tu lugar.

La vida es un suspiro, un instante. No desperdicies el tuyo anclado a mi ausencia. Porque aunque ya no esté de la forma que quisieras, sigo contigo. Estoy en cada paso que das, en cada sonrisa que logras rescatar. Estoy aquí, diciéndote con toda la fuerza que el amor me permite: ¡VIVE!.

09/01/2025

❤️‍🩹

Ernest Hemingway once wrote: "The hardest lesson I’ve had to learn as an adult is the relentless need to keep going, no matter how shattered I feel inside."

This truth is both raw and universal. Life doesn’t pause when our hearts are heavy, our minds are fractured, or our spirits feel like they’re unraveling. It keeps moving—unrelenting, unapologetic—demanding that we move with it. There’s no time to stop, no pause for repair, no moment of stillness where we can gently piece ourselves back together. The world doesn’t wait, even when we need it to.

What makes this even harder is that no one really prepares us for it. As children, we grow up on a steady diet of stories filled with happy endings, tales of redemption and triumph where everything always falls into place. But adulthood strips away those comforting narratives. Instead, it reveals a harsh truth: survival isn’t glamorous or inspiring most of the time. It’s wearing a mask of strength when you’re falling apart inside. It’s showing up when all you want is to retreat. It’s choosing to move forward, step by painful step, when your heart begs for rest.

And yet, we endure. That’s the miracle of being human—we endure. Somewhere in the depths of our pain, we find reserves of strength we didn’t know we possessed. We learn to hold space for ourselves, to be the comfort we crave, to whisper words of hope when no one else does. Over time, we realize that resilience isn’t loud or grandiose; it’s a quiet defiance, a refusal to let life’s weight crush us entirely.

Yes, it’s messy. Yes, it’s exhausting. And yes, there are days when it feels almost impossible to take another step. But even then, we move forward. Each tiny step is proof of our resilience, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we’re still fighting, still refusing to give up. That fight—that courage—is the quiet miracle of survival.

What’s the hardest lesson you’ve had to learn as an adult, and how has it shaped who you are today?
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06/12/2024

It may not feel like today… but one day.

02/11/2024

19/10/2024

😔

24/12/2023

🥰😘