⚠️Note from Blaze: In this post, I speak honestly about the loss of my brother to suicide. It's a story rooted in love and healing, but it does touch on hard truths. I trust you to choose what feels right for you today. If you're not in a place to take that in right now, please honor your needs. Resources are included at the bottom if you or someone you know needs support.
November’s a strange month.
It’s supposed to be about harvest. Gratitude. Wrapping up the year on a high note. But if you’re living in the real world, where life doesn’t always hand you what you hoped for, you know that’s not the whole truth.
Sometimes, the harvest hurts.
Sometimes you planted everything you had and still came up short. Sometimes life gives you what you got, not what you asked for.
And for a while, it’s easy to be angry about that. To feel ungrateful. To push against what is.
But here’s something I’ve learned the hard way, at least twice now:
From the roots of anguish and necessity, the most surprisingly nourishing things can grow.
🌱 The Season I Didn’t Want
In my 30s, I went through a full-life unraveling. I was a tattoo artist, running a business I’d worked so hard to build, and I didn’t want it anymore. My body was breaking down in every way it knew how. I felt lost and adrift. I didn’t know who to turn to or how to make anything work.
I tried things. Eventually I sold the business and underwent months of physical therapy. Then I started a painting business I didn’t love. I let it go. I wrote every day for a year and had no idea what to do with the ideas I poured out.
But beneath the chaos, something steady was forming.
I started noticing what made me feel alive again. The things that grounded me were small: nourishing myself, tending my garden, preparing food with care, talking with friends, cuddling my pets, loving my family.
I didn’t know it then, but I was learning how to anchor myself.
That season hurt. It stretched me. It brought me face to face with parts of myself I didn’t know how to hold. But I came out of it more me than I’d ever been. Rooted. Earthy. Real.
Eventually, I built my coaching practice. I became a mother. I navigated the wild terrain of business ownership again, pivoting during COVID, learning how to show up online, starting a podcast, pausing it when the season called for rest. I grew. I lived. I found my voice again.
Looking back now, I wish that time in my 30s had been the hardest season of my life.
But life delivers the unexpected, unexpectedly.
💔 My Brother Died Last September
His name was Matt. He was one of my best friends.
His death, by suicide, shattered everything I believed about my life.
Suicide is hard to talk about.
It’s hard to describe what it’s like to realize that someone you loved with your whole heart was struggling in ways you couldn’t see, and that he lost the fight.
The “what-ifs” are infinite and brutal.
What did I miss? Could I have stopped it? Was he planning it that last time he visited? During that last Zoom call?
I’ll never know. None of us will.
We just know he’s gone now. And I’ve been figuring out who I am without him.
Losing a family member like that… it hurts in ways I couldn't have understood until it happened. He knew my childhood. He knew me in ways no one else could. His absence echoes through everything. And it just... sucks.
There’s sorrow. There’s horror. There’s the ache of unfinished conversations and unanswered questions. There’s missing his hugs. His voice. His humor. His presence.
But part of honoring his memory is returning to my work.
Because he believed in me. He respected me. And I want to be worthy of that love and respect.
🌿 A New Kind of Growth
After my brother died, nothing about my old routines made sense.
I questioned everything: my purpose, my contributions, my role in my family and this world. For a while, everything felt empty and lonely and meaningless.
So, once again, I stopped expecting myself to be who I was.
I let myself grieve, fully. I cried, rested, shared, stayed quiet, and asked for help. I learned what it meant to really grieve. Not just to survive it, but to be in it.
Some moments still take my breath away. Others make me laugh.
I have made room for it all.
🔥 Anchored & Alive Was Born from the Ashes
This course, this podcast, and this space all comes from my lived experience.
It’s built from the truths I practiced before my brother died, and the tools I tested in fire afterwards.
I kept what helped me. What didn’t, I let go. Or reshaped it until it did help.
Like my brother, I've always valued science, research, and practicality. But I also value soul. Spirit. The quiet magic of showing up, even when life feels impossible.
This year, I finally felt ready to share again. Not because I was “over it,” (I’ll never be over it) but because I had walked through enough of the dark to know I have something real to offer.
Matt helped me see that.
He valued my work. He told me so, often.
And now I’m here, woven from memory and experience, inspiration and grit, offering what’s been solid, nourishing, and life-saving in my own story, in the hope that it supports yours.
My mission is to help as many people as possible find their feet, connect with their soul, and feel like they belong in their lives and in the world. To give them tools that support living their values, and that make space for their spirit.
🕯️ If You’re Here, Maybe You’ve Lived Through Something Too
Maybe your harvest this year wasn’t what you wanted. Maybe you’re carrying a weight no one can see. Maybe you’re tired of pretending you’re fine.
This space is for you.
This blog, this podcast, and this course exist because real life is messy. Grief-filled. Stressful. Sacred. Beautiful. And worth living.
We need each other. We need spaces that make room for all of it.
This is mine. And I hope it becomes yours, too.
With warmth and welcome,
Blaze
If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide or self-harm, please know you are not alone. Help is available 24/7. Call your local crisis line (e.g. 988 in the U.S.) or text “HOME” to 741741, or find emergency services in your country.
🇺🇸 United States
- 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988 (24/7). CDC+1
- Crisis Text Line — text HOME to 741741 (24/7, U.S.) Crisis Text Line+1
- The Trevor Project (for LGBTQ+ youth) — 24/7 phone/text/chat support in the U.S. The Trevor Project
🇦🇺 Australia
- Lifeline Australia — call 13 11 14 (24/7 crisis support) Lifeline+1
- Other Australian resources: Many state- or national-level services; plus headspace for youth mental health support. Wikipedia
💛 Ways to Stay Connected
If this post resonated with you, here are a few ways we can stay connected:
While this course was inspired by my own grief and healing, it is not designed for individuals in immediate mental health crisis. If you’re experiencing suicidal thoughts or need urgent emotional support, please contact a qualified mental health provider or crisis line.
Anchored & Alive is a space for emotional grounding, nervous system regulation, and reconnecting to your values - but it is not a replacement for therapy or emergency care.
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