Thank you Monica. I will share my rebuilding stories with you (yes me too multiple stories multiple times). The painting is wonderful. Really! You are inspiring and a comfort. My life is good today after much struggle but I’m dealing with an unexpected sadness. A close friend was just diagnosed with end stage cancer … out of the blue. She had a separate condition (which was not life threatening) which appears to have masked the new symptoms. I’m no stranger to losses like this but it has unsettled me a lot.
Oh friend… thank you for your vulnerable and generous words. I felt every one of them.
Grief like this really does feel like a trapdoor, doesn’t it? One moment you're upright, grounded—and the next, the floor vanishes and you’re free-falling through uncertainty. Especially when it’s sudden… when it catches you off guard. Even those of us who are no strangers to loss can feel rattled to our core when it arrives like this.
If it helps—something that steadied me in moments like this was giving my energy a quiet assignment. A gentle, sacred focus. When everything felt ungraspable, I’d ask myself:
“What does love want me to do with this?”
or
“How can I honor both of us—her life and mine—with the way I move forward today?”
Some days the answer was as simple as lighting a candle. Or writing one memory down. Or whispering “I’m still here.”
Small anchors. Tiny steps. A way to keep walking when the road disappears.
I’m honored to be walking beside you. Keep sharing if it helps. I’ll keep writing for us both.
Thank you. I will keep sharing with you and will def do one thing to honour us both. Thanks too for ‘what does love want me to do with this’?
Btw, I’m the Irish girl living in London who says hello when you first started posting. I plan to move back there within next 12 months after 40 years here. Until then, I’m going over there on Monday for a few weeks. Remind me where you’re living now?
Beautiful piece! I love the context of rebuilding. I hadn’t thought about it in that way, but that’s exactly what I had to do when my husband left me for one of my best friends and left me with two little boys and moved out of state. That was a total rebuilding of my life.And I do love the life that I built!
Molly, I’m so moved by your honesty—and by the strength behind those words: “I do love the life that I built.” That’s everything. Rebuilding after betrayal, especially with two little boys depending on you, is no small thing. It’s sacred work. Thank you for sharing this—your story is the embodiment of what rebuilding looks like when a woman refuses to stay broken.
Beautiful witness to your strength - through any storm. 🙏🏻
This is so profound. Wow. I admire you. 💞
I will share those stories another time!
Thank you Monica. I will share my rebuilding stories with you (yes me too multiple stories multiple times). The painting is wonderful. Really! You are inspiring and a comfort. My life is good today after much struggle but I’m dealing with an unexpected sadness. A close friend was just diagnosed with end stage cancer … out of the blue. She had a separate condition (which was not life threatening) which appears to have masked the new symptoms. I’m no stranger to losses like this but it has unsettled me a lot.
Will keep reading you!!
PS- I write and post 7 days a week!
Oh friend… thank you for your vulnerable and generous words. I felt every one of them.
Grief like this really does feel like a trapdoor, doesn’t it? One moment you're upright, grounded—and the next, the floor vanishes and you’re free-falling through uncertainty. Especially when it’s sudden… when it catches you off guard. Even those of us who are no strangers to loss can feel rattled to our core when it arrives like this.
If it helps—something that steadied me in moments like this was giving my energy a quiet assignment. A gentle, sacred focus. When everything felt ungraspable, I’d ask myself:
“What does love want me to do with this?”
or
“How can I honor both of us—her life and mine—with the way I move forward today?”
Some days the answer was as simple as lighting a candle. Or writing one memory down. Or whispering “I’m still here.”
Small anchors. Tiny steps. A way to keep walking when the road disappears.
I’m honored to be walking beside you. Keep sharing if it helps. I’ll keep writing for us both.
Thank you. I will keep sharing with you and will def do one thing to honour us both. Thanks too for ‘what does love want me to do with this’?
Btw, I’m the Irish girl living in London who says hello when you first started posting. I plan to move back there within next 12 months after 40 years here. Until then, I’m going over there on Monday for a few weeks. Remind me where you’re living now?
My home is nestled in the blue ridge mts of Central Virginia- Lynchburg.
Oh yes you mentioned Lynchburg. Sounds wonderful.
Beautiful piece! I love the context of rebuilding. I hadn’t thought about it in that way, but that’s exactly what I had to do when my husband left me for one of my best friends and left me with two little boys and moved out of state. That was a total rebuilding of my life.And I do love the life that I built!
Molly, I’m so moved by your honesty—and by the strength behind those words: “I do love the life that I built.” That’s everything. Rebuilding after betrayal, especially with two little boys depending on you, is no small thing. It’s sacred work. Thank you for sharing this—your story is the embodiment of what rebuilding looks like when a woman refuses to stay broken.