On a personal level, I’m finding things to be pretty good right now. (Note: not feeling good about the country or the world at all. More to come on that later). After five or six really really really tough years it feels like maybe I’ve made it through the winter and am solidly in spring. I’ve been waiting for this. When things were hard, or another obstacle thudded to my shoulders, I’d tell myself all the cliche things: “This too shall pass” or “One day at a time.” And they did, and I seem to have made it through.

Last month, I turned the ripe old age of forty-four. Not a significant age in any way, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like a big deal. This has been a year of transition, so I think I am taking steps toward feeling more grounded and more myself, and that has caused some internal shifts for me. Maybe it’s just that I’m a therapist or that I feel like a big sister to some of my younger friends, but this felt like a year to share a few things I’ve learned along the way.

I’ll be honest. Other than the fact that I’ve walked through a lot of loss lately, I feel somewhat ill-equipped to talk on this subject. It is an issue that is both existential and deeply personal. Why do bad things happen to good people? What happens when we die? How do I say goodbye to someone that I loved? How does life keep going when I’ve experienced such a tectonic-level shift? I’m not sure I have the answer to any of these. But I do know what it’s like to experience grief, and I’ve supported friends and clients who are mourning. So I hope I’ve learned some things along the way that I can share.

A handful of years ago, I was dating this guy. We’d just returned from a nice dinner together and were relaxing on my couch chatting. At one point, he halted the conversation, stating, “You’re not saying ‘probably’ correctly.” A wave of embarrassment swept over me and I could feel my eyes starting to well up. “What do you mean?” I sputtered out. “I’m not saying ‘prolly,’” as I’d heard some people say on occasion. He went on to explain that I dropped a syllable when I said the word, more of a ‘prob’ly’ than a ‘probABly.’ By this point, the tears were rolling down my quickly reddening face and I could feel my heart anxiously beating.

I recently started The Artist’s Way (iykyk) and so have been starting each day with a cup of coffee, Morning Pages, and my Spotify set to some moody album as I scribble words across the pages of my journal. The other morning I put on the latest album from Sufjan Stevens and was nearly stopped in my tracks by the song “Will Anybody Ever Love Me?”. The title alone is a gut punch, right? How many of you have ever imploringly shouted that question into the ether or quietly whispered it with tears streaming down your cheeks? I know I have. I still do.