There’s a pit in your stomach that won’t go away, and it stays with you no matter what you’re doing.
Facing another day without them feels impossible, and yet another day keeps arriving whether or not you want it to.
Somewhere underneath all of it sits a question you haven’t wanted to ask, the one about ever feeling normal again.
And grief after a death isn’t the only thing that leaves you feeling this far from yourself.
Sometimes nobody has died, and still you don’t have the energy to go places or do the things you used to enjoy.
Nothing feels exciting or fun anymore, and the plans that used to lift you now sit on the calendar looking like obligations.
You don’t know when it started, but life just feels like a lot right now, more than you can explain to anyone who asks.
That’s a loss too, even without a single moment you can name, and it calls for the same care you’d give any other grief.
Despite their best intentions, people who love and care about you don’t know what to do or say when your world comes crashing down.
What would it be like to talk to someone about what you’re going through without them trying to fix it?
If you need someone prepared to walk through moments like these with you, then that’s the work I’m here to do.
I know what it’s like to grapple with the pain of grief and loss.
Every session is open to whatever you bring, however tangled or raw it feels.
As a therapist, I make a point of being ready for the most painful part of your grief as well as the parts that seem too minor to mention.
When grief shows up in a form neither of us expected, I’ll already be equipped to stay with it alongside you.
I know it’s hard to believe in much of anything when grief and change have taken up so much of your life.
Even a small ember of hope counts, the kind that flickers for a moment and is easy to miss.
Part of my work is helping you catch it before it slips past, so the two of us can notice it together.
The person you lost stays part of you, and there’s still room in your life for something that feels warm.
Being ready looks more like a small willingness than a feeling of certainty, and a small willingness is plenty to work with.
Missing someone you love and missing the life you used to have are both reasons to reach out.
If you’re ready to begin, call (856) 395-9536 or email aliveandwelltherapy@gmail.com and tell me whatever feels right to share.
A house divided against itself can’t stand. You’ve been living inside the proof of that for a while now, and somewhere along the way you stopped expecting the rest of the sentence to be true.
The rest of it is true. A house with two people standing on the same side of it will hold up under things that would have flattened it before. That is the whole aim of the work: get the two of you on the same team, and then let the two of you go after the actual problem.
When you and I talk, I’ll tell you plainly what I make of it. I’d rather be useful to you than agreeable.
Write to me at aliveandwelltherapy@gmail.com, and we’ll set up a consultation.