and it changed something in me
Hey love,
This week’s newsletter feels tender to write.
A couple weeks ago, I was in Costa Rica at El Lugar hosting a training. I had just sat down in class when my phone rang.
It was my brother, Dain Heer.
And immediately, I knew something was wrong.
I stepped outside of class to answer, and he told me there had been an accident and my beloved horse, Novedoso, had died suddenly.
And honestly… I shattered.
I remember standing there in complete shock and saying to Dain, “Can you help me? I don’t know how to be with this.”
And what struck me afterward was realizing I had never actually experienced sudden loss like this before.
I’ve lost pets before, but always with time to prepare.
I lost my stepfather and my father-in-law within six months of each other, but both had diagnoses and we knew it was coming.
I lost a dear friend, but even then there were months between diagnosis and her passing.
This was different.
This was abrupt and violent to my world.
One moment he existed in my life, and the next moment he didn’t.
And I realized I had nothing in my life experience to reference for how to walk through this kind of grief.
I asked Dain, “What do I do? What do I be with this?”
And one of the things he said to me was:
“You’ve got to be willing to just be whatever shows up.”
So I went back to my room… and I did.
Before anything else, I asked the Five Elements of Intimacy to wrap around me and walk with me through what was about to unfold.
And then I let myself completely fall apart.
I cried harder than I have in years.
I called my family.
I let rage come up.
Sadness.
Disbelief.
Gratitude.
Pain.
Confusion.
The strange vulnerability of loving something so deeply that losing it physically hurts your body.
And somewhere inside all of that, another awareness started showing up too.
I realized how much of my life I had spent trying to make my pain easier for other people.
I became aware of how quickly I usually move to having the “stiff upper lip,” minimizing what I feel so other people don’t have to sit in discomfort around me.
If I was sad, I would try to become easier to be around.
If I was hurting, I would soften it for everyone else.
If people didn’t know what to say, I would rush to make *them* comfortable.
And this time?
I couldn’t do it.
And honestly… I didn’t want to.
For maybe the first time in my life, I realized:
I cannot carry my grief *and* manage everyone else’s comfort around it too.
So I stopped trying.
The first day, I was given permission to miss class completely.
The second day, I woke up to a message from Simone Milasas, the facilitator of the class I was hosting.
She said, “If you need to stay in your room today and take class online, or not at all, please just take care of you.”
And I remember thinking, *Wow. I get two days.*
Then the third day came.
And the night before, I caught myself thinking:
“Okay… tomorrow you need to pull it together and go back.”
And then something inside me paused.
Wait.
What if I don’t?
What if I actually honor where I still am?
What if mourning a horse I loved for eight years for more than three days is not wrong?
What if the timeline I’m holding myself to isn’t even real?
And that moment changed something in me.
Because I realized no one else was demanding that from me.
I was.
I was the one creating this invisible rule about what was acceptable, appropriate, tolerable, or “long enough.”
So I messaged Simone and asked for another day.
Which meant I wouldn’t attend class in person at all.
And her response was immediate:
“Of course. Don’t even worry about it.”
(Simone, if you’re reading this… THANK YOU for being such a space of allowance for me 💛)
That kindness was such a gift.
And another gift…
The gift it was that I even asked.
Because it showed me how many invisible rules I still place on myself every single day.
Rules about productivity.
Rules about emotions.
Rules about timing.
Rules about what makes me a “strong” person.
And lately I’ve been asking:
How much of what we think is “the right way” to do life is actually just a point of view we bought somewhere along the way?
Not reality.
Not truth.
Just a conclusion we inherited and started obeying.
And if I’m the one creating those limitations in my world…
Then maybe I can change them too.
There’s still grief here.
There are still moments where I miss him so suddenly it takes my breath away.
But there’s also something else now too.
More allowance.
More softness with myself.
More willingness to honor where I actually am instead of where I think I’m supposed to be.
And somehow, in the middle of losing him, that feels like one of the greatest gifts Novedoso left me with.
Below is a beautiful video my team created for me to honor Novedoso and all the adventures we had together.
🌟 Your Add Wonder Tools
This week, sit with these gently:
- Where am I trying to make my pain, emotions, or struggles easier for other people to handle?
- What invisible timelines or rules have I placed on myself that aren’t actually true?
- Where have I decided there’s a “correct” way to grieve, heal, process, rest, or recover?
- And what would change if I gave myself permission to honor where I truly am instead of where I think I’m supposed to be?
Until next time, may you remember that softness is not weakness… and honoring yourself is not something you have to earn 💛
With wonder,
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