Life, in all its “brutiful” complexity, has a way of shaking us to our core just when we think we’ve found our balance. And while there’s no denying the unbearable weight of life’s brutal moments, the beauty that may follow when we allow ourselves to look again, can offer hope at a time when we thought all was lost.

This year was a year of tremendous, bone-shaking loss. In this time, I came to truly understand that healing is not a one-time accomplishment but an ongoing journey of choice. It is a daily choice to nurture self-compassion, to lean into resilience, and to search for courage in the midst of life’s uncertainties. Over time, I’ve come to realize that even in the darkest moments, there is a glimmer of something more.

Glimmers of Hope

Glimmers are those brief, often unexpected or overlooked moments that spark hope, safety and connection. During morning walks, looking up at the clouds and noticing their shapes and movements enveloped me in a sense of calmness. It may have been just for a moment, but it gave me a reprieve from grief and longing.

And while some may think that looking for glimmers is a false sense of positivity or an avoidance of reality, I see the necessity of shifting our attention from the negatives in order to find a way forward. Finding the strength to move forward is and has been a constant theme in both my professional and personal life.

As many of you may know, I stepped away from my practice for several months this year. When I thought about returning, I thought about the words my son Will shared at his brother’s Celebration of Life. And with his permission, I am sharing his words here with you (unabridged), along with the hope that all of the glimmers shining through his words illuminate whatever darkness you may be experiencing in these uncertain times.

"We are not bodies with a soul. We are souls with a body."

As I reflect on sitting in the hospital watching my little brother take his last breaths, that saying comes to me. A reminder that no matter how "forever" something might seem, everything, including our own lives, comes to an end. Yet, even within this, Sam has proven that our energy and legacy extend far beyond our physical presence.

I recently watched a video about 'Long Art,' a medium of art that utilizes the passage of time to gradually create pieces, outlasting generations in the process. One piece mimicked cave environments to form stalactites, releasing a single water droplet onto a structure below every 30 seconds, a project that will span centuries. Another involved a German town placing a concrete block every ten years to eventually form a pyramid, a goal reaching over a thousand years into the future.

The most fascinating aspect of these artworks is their requirement for multiple generations to maintain and continue them. It’s not about admiring a completed piece, but experiencing a moment in a journey that relies on us, and yet will outlive us. A truly selfless labor of love in my eyes.

In many ways, our lives are pieces of ‘Long Art,’ where every interaction is an artistic expression that the next person can carry on and uphold. In this sense, there has been no greater artist in my life than Sam.

In the 19 years we got to experience this life together, he's taught me more than I could ever ask for. How to love and care for someone, how to communicate, how to have patience (lots of patience), how to be flexible, how to have fun and let loose, and endlessly more.

Even after his passing he’s teaching me. How to be vulnerable, how to cry, how to reflect, how to be grateful, how to be present, and how to admit, no matter how painful it may be, that he is indeed the taller sibling.

While Sam never taught me how to fully understand the vast depths of his feelings, there are two important lessons I’ve learned that I want to share with you. Please repeat these next words with me, sincerely and wholeheartedly:

“I am not alone”

“I am not a burden”

This is so much worse than any 3am call or text saying I’m back in an inpatient facility. I’d give anything for even those back. With that said though, I will continue to live every day with Sam in my heart and on my mind. The art piece that is his life is now in our hands to maintain, and I want it to live on forever.

Our brutiful lives continue everyday. And while we can’t control the outcomes of our decisions or behaviors, we still get to make our own choice about how we want to show up in this world right now. We are all beautiful works in progress, a continuum of ‘Long Art.’

Know that whatever challenges come your way, there are always choices you can make. They may not be your first choices, but they are still yours. If you need support along the way, feel free to reach out.

An Invitation to Embrace the Season of Choice and Empowerment

Look for some “fresh” changes to The Counseling Heart in the coming months. We’re getting a “Glow Up,” and deciding to change the things we can with grace and compassion.