Welcome to I'm Fine (& Other Lies)

A space where you can feel whatever you need to feel

I’m Fine. I’ve said thousands of times over the course of my life.

• When my parents got divorced (“I’m Fine.”)

• When I was diagnosed with cancer (“I’m Fine.”)

• When I relapsed (“I’m Fine.”)

• When my husband, Brad was diagnosed with cancer (“I’m Fine.”)

• When Brad died (“I’m Fine.”)

• When my dad was diagnosed with cancer (“I’m Fine.”)

• When my dad died (“I’m Fine.”)

Here I am.  A two-time cancer-surviving, fatherless widow. All before the ripe old age of 40.

I’m not fine.

And if you’re here, you’re probably not fine either.

We tell these lies because it’s easier. We tell these lies because people want - no, need - us to be fine. We tell these lies because sometimes not being fine means creating waves and our role was to not rock the boat.

But we’re not fine. 

Whether it’s death or trauma or grief or anxiety or the general dumpster fire of life that brings you here, you don’t have to be fine.

Fuck fine.

What to Expect

This space was born from a lie but grows in truth - the truth of the grief experience and what it means to love and to lose and to continue living anyway.

I’m Fine (& Other Lies) is the sort of non-advice, advice column I wanted when I was early in grief and wasn't sure if I'd ever make it through.

I had so many questions on how to navigate this new, foreign territory and just wanted to hear from somebody who had been there. I wanted to know that my insane internal dialogue wasn't wrong, that my rash decisions were ok, and that at some point the heaviness of the grief would shift.

I wanted to hear from someone who wasn't afraid to sit in the messiness. Who wasn't afraid of the discomfort. Someone who knew grief, yes, but also knew joy (because sometimes the joy is harder to handle than the grief).

Since I started openly writing about grief and death and loss, I have gotten thousands of messages with appreciation, validation, and questions. So many questions. I have spent countless hours responding to as many of those DMs, emails, and messages as I could - knowing how completely isolating it is to get a diagnosis or lose a loved one.

Over the years, I wanted a place for all those questions to live. An easily accessible place for people who are "in it' to read someone else's experience. 

This is that place.

Here, I won’t shy away from the hard conversations.

This is where we stop feeling shame for the grief experience. It’s where we pull back the curtain and talk about what’s uncomfortable. It’s where we will collectively share and learn about what it looks like to be a human who is grieving.

Each month(ish), I’ll:

• Answer a question from the community, with the Hello From the Other Side series. In this Q&A style column, I’ll provide honest and real feedback, based on my own personal experience. Feel free to comment and share your own thoughts/opinions/experiences. Voices and representation matters. Have a question for a future column? Ask it here.

• Share my reflections (on grief, life, joy - and all the in-between).

• Connect through community chats (a space where we can discuss resources, tips, and going-ons of the world of grief)

• Share my Joy Still Exists List (for those who need a little help finding joy).

If you want to feel less alone in your grief and learn from my experiences (and mistakes), this is the place for you. If you don’t like f-bombs or the frank, honest, truth, this might not be your place.