I found myself four Bud Zeroes in, with two baskets of cheesecurds, one fish fry, and a card game with three tweenage players in front of me when the entire dive bar in my hometown joined in singing me happy birthday. You guys. Life is wildly beautiful.

Here I was, 49 years old, 7 years sober, preparing to bury my grandma and not feeling a single twitch or trigger in my old stomping grounds. It's a freaking miracle. I used to say I had to drink in that bar to make it fun, but it turns out I don't. Kudos to the alcohol-free options even in small-town Wisconsin, btw.

If you are early in your alcohol-free journey, I want you to know if you stay on this path, someday in your future it won't be no thang. My clients' and I have come to expect miracles, and when they show up, we notice them. I wish this for you too. 

My grandma was laid to rest. This might sound weird to say, but she was in the most beautiful casket I have ever seen. It was platinum and feminine. It looked like her jewelry. It looked like her.

I am not sure I've ever noticed a casket before (are they usually very cherry cabinet-looking?). Well, Grandma's was not that, and it was gorgeous and just right for her, but of course it was because she picked it out. For some reason that comforted me. I slipped my lucky deck of cards by her side before they closed it, and my husband helped carry her out for eternal rest on that bluff outside of town next to everyone she loves most. It was hard, touching, meaningful, and familiar. I will be ok. 

I prepped for the hometown weekend by visualizing myself feeling the way I wanted to feel. Rooted, grounded, and still. I did not want to bring nervous chatter and energy (my go-to for anxiety). I did not want to feel like I had anything to prove. My life speaks for itself; the only approval I need is mine. I did not want to fall into old patterns of people pleasing and prioritizing other people's comfort over my own. I wanted to be free from the distracting critical noise running in the background of my mind and instead be focused on my ability to receive. I didn't want to be selfish or think anything was all about me.

I wanted to pay attention and receive. I wanted to receive my grandma's spirit. I wanted to receive the love and comfort being shared with me from family and friends. I also wanted to stand in the visitation line and receive the people coming through. I wanted to hear their stories. I wanted to receive their sympathy, their respect, and their memories. I wanted to give them a place to put their grief and hold it for them, with them. And I did. 

I really did.

I think it's probably rare that a 101.7-year-old who has outlived almost everyone has a steady stream of traffic for hours and hours on the weekend of her funeral services. She left her mark, and she was remarkable. I think about leaving the world in a better place than where you found it, and she was a good example of that. Someone she used to babysit came through the line. He was about 6'5" and 80+ years old. I was able to receive him with the same love and affection you would give a toddler who lost his teenage babysitter because that is exactly how his sad face looked to me. 

It felt like growth for me to put myself in this healthy mental state on one of my saddest days. I know how to set my nervous system. I know how to emotionally regulate. I know how to take care of myself. I haven't always done this, so it is great growth for me, and I want to acknowledge it. I never once tried to stop myself from feeling what I was feeling. I let myself be, and I let grandma go. 🪽

I can help you do this too. These are skills you can learn with guidance, support, and practice. It will change your life. 

I invite you to the 🔗 Insider membership, and although you've heard this before, I want to share it in a new way that might make more sense, because I got to thinking about it the other day, and it was blowing my mind.

• If you join today for less than $35, you can have access to everything you need for 37 days without alcohol. 
• You get a 30-minute 1x1 call with me. 
• A live group call every week (replay available)
• You will also receive over 5 hours of recorded masterclasses to watch at your own pace with expert instructors including Empowered Sobriety, Financial Sobriety, Find Your Unicorn Space, Cultivating Joy, and Human Design (dropping April 1st).
• You'll be invited to join a book club with the author of The Sober Lush.
• You'll have a 24/7 connection on a private app with other totally rad professional women that includes a tracker, direct messaging, and a forum for advice, questions, resources, and more. 
• The app just got a major upgrade, and the community continues to evolve with new topics, resources, and options. 
• Reminder: both my coaching and the community are award-winning, so it's not just me tooting my own horn, but then again, why not? 🎺 I think it's the best too. 

If after 37 days it's not for you, then cancel and leave with tons of insight. You'll be one step closer to finding a resource that feels like the right fit with a little more knowledge under your belt.

It's less than $1 a day to invest in your health, personal development, healing, growth, education, and self-care. I honestly can't think of a better value. Not even a hot Americano from Starbucks, which is the nectar of the gods. If you are getting value from this newsletter, you'll be wowed by the resources 🔗 Inside, and I desperately want to get to know you better if you can't tell. Not sure if you want to spend $35? What the heck? Go ahead and 🔗 Get 7 Days Free. 

Now this new pod drop with Meg Geisewite, friend and author of Intoxicating Lies, is so good. I listened to it myself last night to be sure, since it had been a while since we recorded. I am very proud of us for tackling a topic as tender and vulnerable as sexual assault. My second trigger warning comes with this podcast, so it is not for everyone, but it felt incredibly healing for Meg and me to have this conversation together. Listen 🔗 here or anywhere you listen to podcasts. 

My birthday celebration now continues throughout this weekend. 

My mantra, which might become a tattoo, is the subject of this email (also a Zach Bryan lyric). Let it be and then let it go. That is how my grandma lived for so long with so much loss, and that's how I intend to too. I'll leave you with this Mary Oliver poem that explains exactly what I mean. XO! 

If you like this newsletter, you can share it using this 🔗 link. 

In Blackwater woods