Grief, Strength, and the Unstoppable Spirit of Women

Grief is an uninvited guest in a woman’s life, and it is deeply tied to our ability to feel. Women often experience the world with open hearts, feeling emotions in their fullest—love, hope, joy, and pain. This capacity to connect and empathize makes our grief unique. It’s not just a reaction to loss; it’s an extension of how deeply we care.

And as women, we don’t just grieve death. We grieve in ways uniquely tied to our lived experiences.

We grieve the everyday vigilance—the need to clutch our keys like weapons when walking to our cars at night, to bring a dog along just to feel safe on a solo hike, or to update friends with our whereabouts before a date. We grieve the unease of stepping into an Uber alone or the fear of traveling without company. We grieve the times we’ve been underestimated, dismissed, or exploited, labeled as “too weak,” “too emotional,” or simply “less than” because of our gender.

At Work

In the workplace, we grieve inequities that linger despite the progress we’ve made. Sure, we’ve moved beyond being solely the “secretaries,” the coffee runners, or the meeting schedulers, but let’s not fool ourselves—we’re still proving our worth every day. Often, we’re working twice as hard for half the recognition, grieving the lack of equal pay or opportunities. And let’s not overlook the sting of watching other women climb the ladder only to neglect lifting others along the way. This grief isn’t just personal—it’s systemic. And it cuts deep.

Grieving the Rights We Fear to Lose

Then there’s the grief that turns into fear and anger—the collective mourning we share as women when our rights are threatened or stripped away. The idea of our daughters, nieces, and granddaughters growing up with fewer freedoms than we had feels like a gut punch.

What about the right to make choices for our own bodies, our futures, and our freedoms? What if opportunities that generations before us fought to secure are taken away? The fear is heavy, but it doesn’t paralyze us.

Women have always risen to the occasion. We’ve marched, protested, advocated, and fought with everything we have—even when the weight feels unbearable.

Our Personal Grief

Grief can also be found at home, settling into our kitchens and bedrooms, invading our quiet moments. Losing a job, for example, isn’t just about money. It’s about the loss of identity, purpose, and pride. It’s questioning whether your age, gender, or refusal to play by unspoken rules led to this moment.

For women in unhealthy relationships, grief takes on yet another dimension. It’s the mourning of what could have been—the love that turned sour, the betrayal, or the partnership that became a prison. It’s grieving the pieces of yourself you’ve lost along the way, the isolation, the self-doubt, and the fear of leaving or staying. This kind of grief is heavy and deeply personal, but acknowledging it is the first step toward reclaiming your power.

I’ll admit it: I’ve been guilty of bypassing grief. Instead of sitting with it, I first turned to alcohol. I drank, and I drank, and I drank. And it got me nowhere healthy. Once sober, I would simply refocus and stay busy moving towards what’s next and avoiding the weight of it all. But my cancer diagnosis brought all that to a screeching halt. There was no job to occupy my time, no next step to distract me. And I grieved. Hard. The betrayal of my body. The fear of what’s next. The loss of a job and security to the uncaring corporate machine—it all came crashing down. And as painful as it was, it was cathartic.

Rising Through Grief

Grief isn’t just an ending—it’s a transformation. It bends us, shapes us, and reveals a strength we didn’t know we had. It teaches us to value what truly matters and to lean on those who share this path.

When I reflect on my own grief—whether from a cancer diagnosis, job loss, or countless other trials—I see more than pain. I see resilience. Grief pushed me to fight, to grow, and to hold tight to the people and moments that mattered most.

Something else I’ve learned is that grief is necessary. When we allow ourselves to feel it fully, we don’t just come back stronger—we come back wiser.

Carrying Each Other

Every woman who has carried loss knows this: we hold ourselves—and each other—up. We wear our scars—every wrinkle, gray hair, and yes, even the occasional sneeze-induced bladder leak—not as marks of defeat but as proof of survival. They remind us of what we’ve endured and the strength we carry within.

Grief doesn’t define us—it reveals us. It shows the depths of our love, the courage in our fear, and the strength we never knew we had. And when we rise, we don’t rise alone. We rise for every daughter, sister, friend, and stranger who needs to know that no matter how heavy the weight, we will carry on.

Sisterhood: Why We Need More of It

Sisterhood: Why We Need More of It

Sisterhood has been on my mind a lot lately, especially as I’m sculpting my latest series dedicated to women. And I’ve been pondering what it means and why it’s so important. 

So, here’s a story.

Some years ago, I worked alongside a woman who, for all intents and purposes, should have been my ally. We were both excelling in our respective roles, navigating a male-dominated industry, and balancing life’s chaos. It should’ve been the perfect setup for mutual respect and collaboration. Instead, we clashed.

I felt ignored and undervalued, sensing that my knowledge and experience threatened her. I didn’t handle it well. Instead of reaching out or seeking understanding, I let resentment take hold. I’m guilty of what I call “sister bashing.” I didn’t lift her up; I let my frustration boil and may have vented to others when I should have managed the situation better.

Looking back, I see how that dynamic undermined both of us. Feeling disrespected, I responded in kind. But what did I gain from it? A fleeting sense of superiority? A false belief that I was protecting my worth? In the end, it left me feeling smaller, not stronger.

Why Sisterhood Matters

In working America, the dynamic between women can be fraught with unspoken tensions. We’re told to fight harder, climb faster, and prove ourselves in ways men never do. Yet, instead of forming alliances, we sometimes turn that fight inward and against each other. But sisterhood, especially in the workplace, is a necessity. Women in male-dominated fields face unique challenges—proving ourselves, securing a seat at the table, and navigating biases. 

Instead of supporting one another, we might find ourselves caught up in competition or letting ego diminish one another. This mindset, where we view each other as threats instead of allies, can be toxic. Feeling the constant need to prove ourselves smarter or more capable than our peers isn’t just misguided; it’s harmful. We face enough self-doubt without needing to criticize each other.

Here’s the truth: we’re stronger together. The more we support each other, the higher we all rise. Sisterhood in the workplace means cheering each other on, advocating for one another, and realizing that someone else’s knowledge or success doesn’t diminish our own.

Sisterhood in Friendship

This isn’t just about work; sisterhood is equally vital in our personal lives. Think about the women who’ve shown up for you—a friend who listened without judgment, a neighbor who stepped in during tough times, or even a stranger who offered a kind word when you needed it most.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I discovered a sisterhood I hadn’t fully realized existed. It came in many forms—daily check-ins to ensure I was okay, rides to appointments, taking turns to sit with me after surgery so I never felt alone, and even taking care of my yard when I couldn’t! These acts of kindness meant the world to me, and I’ll never forget the love shown.

Sisterhood in action.

There were also those from afar—friends and past colleagues—who reached out. Some shared their own stories of survival, offering solidarity that only comes from shared experience. Others sent words of encouragement, checked in, or let me know I was in their thoughts.

These experiences reshaped my understanding of friendship. They showed me the power of sisterhood, reminding me that no matter how independent we think we are, we’re stronger together. My friendships have both rekindled and deepened, rooted in a trust and vulnerability I hadn’t fully appreciated before.

Choosing Sisterhood

I won’t pretend I’ve always gotten it right. I’m not the best at regular check in’s and would like to do better. And there have been times when ego or hurt feelings made me want to lash out– and times when I have. But through experience and life lessons, I know that taking the high road feels so much better.

Cancer, in particular, reshaped my perspective, teaching me that life’s too short to let pride or competition overshadow meaningful connections, and opening my eyes as to what’s most important. Now, I try to approach relationships with more grace and generosity.

Sisterhood isn’t just about survival; it’s about thriving—together. It’s about creating a world where women celebrate and support each other without hesitation or fear. A world where we lift each other up instead of tearing each other down.

I’m still learning and growing in this journey of life, and sisterhood. I’ve stumbled, and I’ll probably stumble again. But I’m committed to it because I’ve seen the power of women supporting women. When we show up for each other, we all rise.

When Anxiety Strikes: Turning Fear into Strength

When Anxiety Strikes: Turning Fear into Strength

The morning of December 31 greeted me with a jolt of anxiety, a suffocating presence that woke me with a racing heart. My chest felt heavy, my mind filling with "worries," and I could sense the day spiraling into a mental battle before it had even begun. It wasn’t paralyzing, but it was enough to change my plans for the morning.

You see, I was going to a New Year’s party that evening. Sure, it was with dear friends, but there would also be people I didn’t know, which could equate to small talk, of which I’d rather stick my finger in a light socket. I’m awkward and not good at it.

I would define myself as an introverted extrovert. Meaning, I’m most happy at home. I don’t socialize a lot and often dread going out.  But once I get out, things change and I usually do ok, so long as I’m with friends. Still, having anxiety 12-plus hours before the event felt overwhelming and unjustified—why was I already so keyed up over something that should be fun?

While the hours leading up to the party were full of reasons to back out, I pulled up my big girl pants and went and I’m so glad I did. It was so fun to get together with friends, make new ones, and I enjoyed every minute of it. You see, it wasn’t ME that was dreading anything; it was that often debilitating thing called anxiety.

I consider myself a very blessed person for numerous reasons, one being that I never experienced anxiety until my 40s, when my hormones began to change. Yes, perimenopause. And once I knew what was happening, I couldn’t imagine dealing with this my entire life. It’s horrible, and I have deep empathy for anyone who suffers from anxiety.

For me, it often began in the early hours of the morning. I’d wake up around 4 or 4:30 with a sickening feeling of impending doom. The only way to describe it was like an invisible weight pressing down on me. I’d immediately get out of bed and start pacing. With a cup of coffee in hand, I’d walk laps around my house, convinced that something bad was coming. Of what? I had no idea, but the feeling was relentless. This pacing would go on until it was time to get ready for work. Exercise would have been ideal, but the stress often made it necessary for me to stay near a bathroom. Pushing weights or bending into yoga poses would not be wise, if you know what I mean. Within a few hours, the sensation would subside and I could function, but those early morning hours were agonizing.

It took me time to seek help, and when I finally saw a doctor, I started with a thirty-something OB-GYN. Convinced that hormones were the root cause, I thought hormone therapy might offset my perimenopausal changes. Instead, she chuckled, said I was seeing the wrong doctor, and referred me to a mental health professional. I was shocked and frustrated. After all, wasn’t the root cause hormonal? Shouldn’t estrogen therapy fix the problem? I felt dismissed and old, as if my concerns weren’t fully heard or understood. But it wasn’t just about finding a solution—it was about feeling validated in my struggle, and at that moment, I didn’t.

Fast forward a few more years—full-on menopause, a pandemic, and plenty of life changes—and I’m now a “highly experienced anxiety professional.” I’ve dealt with several forms: panic attacks (impending doom), social anxiety, and generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) triggered by life—things like in-office team meetings, rising bills, political turmoil, women’s freedoms, etc. Now toss in a dash of OCD, a handful of PTSD, stir it all together, and you get a glimpse of my reality. But I know I’m not alone.

Anxiety disorders are twice as likely to affect women, with the weight of societal expectations, hormonal changes, and trauma compounding the challenge. The numbers are growing, reflecting the mounting pressures women face in a world that often demands resilience without offering adequate support.

For women, major causes of anxiety often include:

Stress. As workers, partners, caregivers, and friends, we often find ourselves juggling responsibilities that leave little room for self-care. 

The fear of losing control. Whether dealing with health issues, being in an unhealthy  relationship, or battling financial struggles—can feel paralyzing. 

Hormones. From puberty to post-menopause (aka forever), the hormonal changes can amplify feelings of unease, often leaving us questioning our own emotional stability. 

Trauma that can manifest as PTSD. Often triggered by life events, toxic relationships, even sounds and smells can cause anxiety that feels impossible to escape. 

So, how do we combat this relentless angst? Here are my coping mechanisms:

1. Exercise: Whether sweating on the bike, lifting weights, or hiking trails, this is my #1 go-to for managing anxiety. When I skip regular exercise, I feel it creeping back.

2. Recognizing triggers: Try to plan for them when possible, to minimize their impact.

3. Living a healthy lifestyle: A balanced diet, consistent sleep schedule, and mindfulness make a huge difference.

4. Surrounding myself with positivity: Healthy friendships and supportive, loving people help me stay grounded.

5. Advocating for myself: I’m learning to set boundaries and prioritize my needs.

6. Medication: While I can no longer take hormone therapy due to my breast cancer type, I am on anxiety meds and they DO help.

As I reflect on my life’s journey, I can see how every bend and scar has shaped me into who I am today. Anxiety, like the storms that leave marks on trees, can feel overwhelming, but it also teaches resilience. It forces us to adapt, grow, and find strength we didn’t know we had. Whether through creating art, building community, or simply taking time for self-care, we find ways to thrive. And that is the essence of being human—being rooted, resilient, and willing to grow.

So, if you’re struggling, know this: you’re not alone. Like the trees I sculpt, you have the strength to weather any storm. Bend, don’t break—and remember to honor your journey.

Reference: https://www.fda.gov/consumers/womens-health-topics/women-and-anxiety

Beyond Strength: What It Really Means When a Woman Bends but Doesn’t Break

Beyond Strength: What It Really Means When a Woman Bends but Doesn’t Break

One of the greatest strengths of being a woman, I believe, is our ability to feel deeply. I learned this first hand as I fought my battle with breast cancer. It’s a life event where you have to allow yourself to feel. If you stifle the emotions one would likely suffocate from the weight and worry of it all. It was part of the process to accept this life changing event and to build the strength to get through it. And as women, we don’t shy away from our emotions; instead, we embrace them as a source of resilience and energy that carries us through life. Our joy, our love, our sorrow, and even our anger—they’re all part of what makes us who we are. But this openness comes with struggles, too. Feeling deeply is a double-edged sword, a strength that also leaves us exposed to the weight of our own vulnerabilities.

We are woven with empathy and compassion, yet this openness often brings us face-to-face with sorrow. We love with intensity, and when loss hits, it strikes with a force. And in those moments, others may see our tears and mistake them for weakness. But in that pain, we find resilience because we are resilient. We rise, not because it’s easy, but because our hearts—no matter how wounded—are still able to give, to feel, to grow once more. We may bend, but we do not break. Even when we feel we’re broken, we find a way to heal.

And yet, society often misunderstands the strength in our emotions. If we’re expressive and allow ourselves to feel, we’re labeled as “too emotional”, or seen as “an annoyance”, or even “unstable.” Our natural responses to life—be it sadness, joy, anger, or fear—can be dismissed as “hormones” or reduced to “emotional baggage.” How many times have we been told to “calm down” or had our feelings downplayed as irrational, or simply dismissed? There’s this perception that having feelings somehow weakens our credibility or makes us “a hassle” to deal with. And that judgment is a weight that we quietly carry.

But our emotions are not a weakness, and they’re certainly not baggage. They’re a testament to the depths we are willing to go, the courage to face our vulnerabilities head-on, and the willingness to engage with life wholeheartedly. Feeling deeply isn’t about losing control, or being weak; it’s about allowing ourselves to fully experience life’s spectrum, and in doing so, we grow stronger. We transform pain into strength, sadness into compassion, joy into hope—and we carry on.

This understanding helped inspire my current series of sculptures depicting women as trees– rooted, complex and exposed. Trees stand tall and resilient, but they carry their scars, branches bent or broken from past storms. Like trees, we grow in every direction, grounded by our experiences. We carry the scars of what we’ve been through, and those marks are proof of our strength.

These sculptures are a tribute to every woman who has faced the world with her heart wide open. Yes, we feel deeply, and yes, it can hurt. But through those feelings, we find resilience. We bend, but we do not break. And that is the beauty—and the power—of being a woman.