The stories we tell

there is no clarity without connection

On the stories that hold us back when friendships fall away

I’m sitting in my kitchen looking out into the backyard. With November comes a change in color — the grass less vibrant, the red porch chairs a gray hue from the frosty film of morning. And yet, I notice the twinkly lights that are finally strung up, the new bronze fire pit, the trees still burning with an orange-yellow glow.

This year, I feel more ready than ever to go into winter. Yes, yes — I know there’s still a month and a half until then. But in the past, I’ve gripped to autumn with clenched fists, resisting the cold and all that comes with it.

It makes sense that this year I’ve let go of that resistance. By tending to my home — tending to the hearth — I’ve tilled the soil for a brighter winter. No longer fearful of short days and long nights, I go toward the night with a chin held high, open to winter joy — rather, expecting winter joy.

In the last week or two, I’ve been thinking about what happens to friendship after experiencing personal transformation. If you read (or have read) this newsletter, it likely comes as no surprise that I’ve lost many friends on my journey of healing. And in a way, I felt the loss of those friendships long before they ever happened.

The thing is, there is rarely a break — a clear line demarcating the beginning and end of a friendship. For me, it has always been a felt sense of loss. An unanswered text message, a quieting group chat, a final hangout, an unexpected unfollow on Instagram.

The friendships that have fallen away have run their course — of this, I am sure. Nevertheless, it still jars my system when it becomes clear in some way that a friendship is complete.

Recently, I noticed that I was unfollowed by an old friend. I ran through all the classic stories in my head: they hate my content, they don’t like me anymore, they think I’ve changed, they think I’m fake, they like X better than me now, they abandoned me, they can’t meet me where I am, they don’t support me, they can’t see me.

Perhaps some of these are true — they probably do think I’ve changed (and factually, this is literally true). Yet, I’m pulled to reflect on the part of me that creates the story at all.

I will just say it: the story is just a salve for the grief of losing a friend.

What I know after years of practice is that the story allows me to look away from processing the loss. It’s a distraction — albeit a good one — that delays my ability to feel the truth of my heart. Not to mention, when there’s been a lot of distance or there hasn’t been communication in a long time, it is so easy to create a story and assume.

To be clear, I have no judgment about this. It’s just true. But what I know is that when I’m creating stories, I sever the possibility of connection. And when I can’t feel my grief, when I can’t feel my heart, I go into defensive mode.

Without connection, you really just don’t know what another person is thinking or feeling. The stories are just bandaids we place on top of the not knowing.

Truthfully, I have a lot to say about this that feels difficult to write. This week, I’m trying something new by including an audio portion of this newsletter. Feel free to listen as I process my thoughts:

If you’re still here, thank you for reading & listening.

I wish you all an open heart, a melting of the icy defensive layers, and the self-trust and internal safety to let yourself feel it all.

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I’ve been tuning into the energetic frequency of SANCTUARY more and more & it feels so nourishing and incredible. From the deepest part of me, I can’t wait to hold this container.

A deep journey of returning to yourself
A space to wade in the glimmering waters of truth
An exploration of the deep rolling hills of your inner wisdom
Self-trust, self-intimacy, emotional sobriety, internal safety
Everything inside of you
Waiting for you to remember
With open arms

If you’re curious or you feel called, I encourage you to reach out. I’d love to chat with you & talk it through.

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Here’s what has been in my portal of delights ~