Life after suicide loss is indeed nothing short of a wasteland of the leftover pieces of your shattered heart, of your former self. As the host, Melissa, a mother who lost her 21-year old son Alex to suicide in 2016, has real conversations with other loss survivors, healers and mental health experts. In these conversations she explores the relevant topics and asks the hard questions we all need to talk about and hear answers to. Nothing is 'off limit' as she delves into areas such as trauma, hope, healing, self-care, stigma, grief & mental health. Melissa believes that we learn to live alongside our grief, not get over it. Only through real, honest talk and mindful choices can we make a real difference. For a supporter, or educator, these conversations hold nuggets of awareness and shine a spotlight on suicide and mental health in a real, and unapologetic, way. As a suicide loss griever, one can find the comfort of a community, and hope for a little brighter tomorrow. Melissa wants to help others, like herself, go from surviving to finding a life with meaning, maybe even happiness, amid their own leftover pieces.
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The Leftover Pieces; Suicide Loss Conversations podcast has been an incredibly helpful resource for me during my healing process. As someone who has experienced loss by suicide, I found the content of this podcast to be relatable and comforting. The interviews and insights provided by Melissa, the host, have helped me realize that I am not alone in my grief and that there is hope for healing. I appreciate the vulnerability and honesty with which the guests share their experiences, and I am grateful to Melissa for creating a space where these conversations can take place.
One of the best aspects of this podcast is its relatability. The content shared on The Leftover Pieces is so raw and authentic that it truly resonates with listeners who have experienced loss by suicide. Melissa's personal experiences as a loss survivor herself allow her to connect with her audience on a deep level, offering validation and understanding. The interviews with expert guests provide valuable advice and information that can be helpful to anyone navigating the complexities of grief after a suicide loss.
Another wonderful aspect of this podcast is how it challenges the stigma surrounding mental health and suicide. By openly discussing these difficult topics, Melissa creates a safe space for dialogue and helps break down barriers to understanding. The conversations she has are crucial in raising awareness about mental health issues and promoting compassion towards those affected by suicide loss.
As for any potential downsides, it can be emotionally challenging to listen to episodes dealing with such heavy subject matter. Suicide loss is deeply painful and can evoke strong emotions in listeners who have personal connections to this type of grief. While this emotional intensity may be necessary for healing and growth, it's important for listeners to approach these episodes at their own pace and take breaks when needed.
In conclusion, The Leftover Pieces; Suicide Loss Conversations podcast is an invaluable resource for anyone seeking support or understanding after experiencing the devastating loss of a loved one by suicide. Melissa's vulnerability, along with her guest's insights, offers a sense of community and hope for healing. This podcast is a testament to the power of storytelling and the importance of open dialogue in promoting mental health awareness and compassion towards those affected by suicide loss. I highly recommend it to anyone on this difficult journey.
Get THE Leftover Pieces APP & don't miss anything! CLICK HERE TODAY --Holidays and anniversaries come with scripts you didn't write. Permission language lets you carry your truth into rooms that may not know how to hold it.Journal prompt: “One event I'm resizing this season is… I'll protect my energy by saying…” Even before the day arrives, give yourself a flicker of relief by writing one sentence you can actually say out loud: “I'm keeping things simple this year.” Then rebuild by placing that sentence where your future self will find it—save it as a text snippet, pin it in notes, or draft it to your ally with, “If I freeze, please echo this for me.” Finally, step by using the line once in a low-stakes context (rescheduling coffee, leaving a call early) so your nervous system remembers it works when the stakes are higher.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Choose one sentence and save it to notes. Read it once aloud.Healing (medium): Send your line to one ally and ask them to back you up if needed.Becoming (higher): Use the line once this week in a gentle situation and log how your body felt after.To end today: Permission isn't about winning arguments; it's about staying intact. Clear sentences shrink the distance between what you feel and what you say, which lowers the cost of showing up. Some people may not love your limits, and that's information—not a mandate to abandon yourself. Practice now, in easy places, so your words are ready when the room gets loud.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Get THE Leftover Pieces APP & don't miss anything! CLICK HERE TODAY -- Integration is mostly editing—conserving what helps, quietly retiring what doesn't.Journal prompt: “If I gave my energy a budget, I'd spend more on… and less on…” Scan this month for flickers that actually eased a day—witnessing, one brick finished, a boundary honored, light as companion—and keep them on purpose. Rebuild with a quick three-column check: KEEP (works), DROP (drains), ADJUST (tweak). Aim for three bullets total; simple wins. Then step by committing to one change—schedule the keeper as a repeating block, remove a drainer from the calendar, or place an object (candle, water bottle, bracelet) where it will cue the tweak.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Write one KEEP item. Stop there.Healing (medium): Do the full three-column check and circle one line.Becoming (higher): Put the circled item on your calendar with a repeat.To end today:Editing your grief life is an act of respect—for your person and for your nervous system. After suicide loss, you don't owe the world the version of you that bleeds the most to prove you loved them. Keep what steadies you, drop what drains you, and adjust the practices that almost work. This is not giving up; it's maturing your care. Let the metrics be honest: Did I breathe easier? Did recovery time shorten? Did I feel even a sliver more like myself? Put the keepers on repeat and let the rest go without a courtroom trial. Your energy is finite and precious; spend it where love can actually build something. Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Get THE Leftover Pieces APP & don't miss anything! CLICK HERE TODAY -- Touchstones let love travel with you without making every minute heavy.Journal prompt: “What I'm keeping from this month is…”Choose one flicker that feels like company: a phrase they loved, ten seconds of their song, a color that calls them to mind. Rebuild by placing a tiny touchstone where real life happens—light a candle at dinner, wear the bracelet, set a photo by the door, speak their name before you leave the house. Then step by anchoring it to a daily moment: “When I grab my keys, I touch the bracelet,” or “When the kettle clicks, I say their name.” Small, repeatable, merciful.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Speak their name once and place a hand on your chest.Healing (medium): Put one touchstone where you'll naturally see/use it.Becoming (higher): Share your touchstone plan with a safe person and invite them to mirror it once this week.To end today:Legacy is not a museum; it's a living room. Touchstones let love move with you—into the kitchen, the car, the checkout line—without requiring a speech every time. After a suicide, memory can feel sharp or complicated; gentle, chosen rituals blunt the edge just enough to hold it. Speaking their name before you leave the house or hearing ten seconds of “their” song is not dwelling—it's belonging. You're showing your body that remembering is allowed and survivable. If a touchstone stings today, choose a lighter one; the goal isn't performance, it's companionship. Over time, these tiny ties stitch a steadier way to carry them forward without disappearing yourself. Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Reacting vs. Responding in Grief — Life After Suicide LossToday I'm “down the rabbit hole,” teasing apart reacting vs. responding after traumatic loss—not to shame reactions (they're human), but to widen the space where we can choose. We'll touch nervous-system patterns (fight/flight/freeze/fawn/flop), how to spot activation in real time, and how tiny, honest choices build a life aligned with values.If you've been listening to October's Daily Nuggets, this pairs with Hope → Healing → Becoming very wellReaction: fast, automatic, discomfort-ending; urgent; body running the show. Response: chosen, value-aligned; includes feelings; checks context/impact. After suicide loss, we're not “broken,” we're activated. The work is creating a small gap between impulse and action so love gets a say.Five protection styles (no shame, just data): Fight • Flight • Freeze • Fawn • Flop Tiny mantra: “My body is loud. I don't have to obey it.”How to tell you're reacting (so you can pivot): Body (jaw/chest/gut, heat/cold, tunnel vision, fatigue) • Thoughts (catastrophe, always/never, fixing others) • Behavior (fast texts, ghosting, auto-yes). Common activators: the day they died (aka 'the worst day'), songs, smells, certain phrases, etc—treat as green lights to pause.I give a real, recent example in the episode of how this concept shows up for me now that I am more practiced at responding over being on autopilot and just reacting.... AND here are two grounded general (common) examples:The Hot Text: Phone face-down → 3 breaths → “This is fight” → normalize → draft, don't send → after sleep, keep 2 lines, delete 10. Relationship and nervous system preserved.The Family Invite: Values check (honesty, tenderness, capacity) → two-liner: “Thanks for including me. I'm keeping things gentle this month and won't make it, but I'm sending love.”Top 5 tools (details in the PDF inside the Lighthouse Community Library)Thread back to Hope → Healing → Becoming Hope = capacity (not cheer). Healing = nervous-system literacy. Becoming = the widening gap between impulse and action—where love, truth, and capacity meet.“When the wave lifts, I do not argue the sea. I plant my feet, name the water, and choose the next breath.”
Get THE Leftover Pieces APP & don't miss anything! CLICK HERE TODAY -- The season gets crowded. Capacity isn't disloyalty—it's logistics for a heart carrying a lot.Journal prompt: “A boundary that made room for me was…”Choose your pace before the week chooses it for you. Let a flicker of relief lead: make one clear decision today and notice your shoulders drop. Rebuild with a concrete move—opt out (“Not this year”), leave early (“I can stay 45 minutes”), or tap-in an ally (someone who runs interference or signals the exit). Then step it onto the calendar: add start/exit times or your ally's name and plan in the event notes so Future-You doesn't have to negotiate in the moment.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Remove one non-essential event this week.Healing (medium): Add an exit time to one commitment and text your ally.Becoming (higher): Add pacing notes to three upcoming events (opt out / leave early / ally + signal).To end today:Grief after suicide rarely fits the calendar the world hands you. Pacing isn't selfish; it's survival planning for a heart that's still rebuilding. When you opt out, leave early, or bring an ally, you're not disrespecting tradition—you're refusing to sacrifice yourself to it. Your capacity will change week to week; let your plans change with it. The people who love you can handle clarity, and the ones who can't are telling you something useful. There is no prize for white-knuckling through an event that costs you three days of recovery. Choose the version of participation that lets you wake up tomorrow with a little more breath than today. Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Get THE Leftover Pieces APP & don't miss anything! CLICK HERE TODAY -- When grief spikes—anniversaries, rooms that hold their echo—having a beginning and an ending lets your body know you're not trapped inside the moment.Journal prompt: “My threshold ritual will be…”Hard moments deserve structure. Begin with a flicker that signals you're entering on purpose—touch a photo or step outside and name the sky. Move into rebuild with a simple be-in-it container: time-box twenty minutes, breathe a long exhale on the minute, keep a touchstone in your hand. Then step out with a deliberate close: blow out the candle, wash hands or face, step outside and say, “I'm done for today.” Rehearse the three beats once on something smaller (scrolling photos, one phone call) so your body recognizes the exits when it counts.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Do only the Close after a hard moment—wash hands, step outside, say “I'm done for today.”Healing (medium): Use Open + Close around one task (light candle → do the thing → blow it out).Becoming (higher): Run all three beats on a planned event; set a timer and jot one line afterward about what helped.To end today: Thresholds aren't superstition; they're trauma-aware choreography. When suicide loss surges, your body loses track of time—starts feel like ambushes and ends feel impossible. A simple open/close tells your nervous system, “There's a door here.” You get to enter remembering on purpose, be with it for a finite span, and then leave with your dignity intact. If someone doesn't understand why you wash your hands after scrolling or blow out a candle after a hard conversation, that's fine—the ritual isn't for them. It's a breadcrumb trail for you, a way to keep love close without letting pain run the whole house. Practice on small moments now so, on the big ones, your feet already know the way out. Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Get THE Leftover Pieces APP & don't miss anything! CLICK HERE TODAY -- No heroics required. A window of light, a seven-minute finish, and a two-sentence check-in can turn a spinning day into a survivable one. Journal prompt: “What I'm keeping from this month is…”Your Personal Flicker–Brick–Step Plan (Rough-Day Ready) On the days when suicide loss surges—the date you didn't mean to remember, the song that blindsides you, the blame-loop at 2 a.m.—you don't need pep. You need a plan that can meet the wave.Rough days deserve a plan you can run on muscle memory. Start with a flicker that honors your grief, not erases it: stand by a window, touch their bracelet or photo, say their name and yours. Let that cue your rebuild—one small brick that steadies a body carrying trauma: a 7-minute shower; light a candle and breathe a longer exhale; clear the memorial corner's surface so it feels gentler to approach; text one survivor-friend “no fixing—just witness?” Then take a step that carries them forward with you: add one line to your witness log about a memory; schedule the support group link for tonight; send a two-sentence check-in to another bereaved parent. This isn't moving on. It's moving with.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Stand by a window holding their item (or hand on heart). Say, “I miss you, and I'm breathing.” Five long exhales. If tears come, that's capacity doing its job; you're done for today.Healing (medium): Do the flicker and one 7–10 minute brick aimed at activation (shower; clear one square; light candle + 3 rounds of 3-3-6 breath). When the timer dings, stop. Drink a full glass of water.Becoming (higher): Run all three: flicker → brick → step that carries forward (add a memory line, send the group RSVP, message a survivor ally for a 10-minute call). Save a pinned note titled “Rough-Day Plan: name • candle • 7-min shower • text Jess.”As we end today: Pre-deciding isn't performative strength; it's trauma care. A grief-true plan—speak their name, regulate your body, take one carrying-forward step—cuts through shame and gives the wave somewhere to go. Keep the structure, flex the pieces. On the worst days, being held by three simple moves is courage.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
You don't need a five-year plan; one clear next action can steady the day in life after suicide loss. Journal prompt: “When I picture myself exhaling tomorrow, the action that gets me there is…” What we mean by a “one-inch plan” (so we're clear): A one-inch plan is small, specific, and scheduled—just enough structure to steady tomorrow without overwhelming today. Examples:Admin inch: “Print the form and put it by the door at 7:30 a.m.”Body inch: “Walk to the mailbox at 3:00 p.m., phone off.”Connection inch: “Text Sam at noon: ‘Thinking of you—no need to respond.'” Keep it to one action, one support, one time. If it takes more than 10 minutes to explain, it's not one inch.A Flicker (Hope) — Clarity calms A single next action can quiet the swirl. Keep that quiet.To Rebuild (Healing) — The 1-1-1 plan 1 task: one thing you'll finish tomorrow. 1 support: one person/tool that helps. 1 time: a start time on your calendar (even 10 minutes).Take a Step (Becoming) — Prep a breadcrumb Lay out one item you'll need (document, clothes, water bottle) where you'll see it. Future-you will thank you.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Hollow — Write your 1-1-1 in notes. Stop there.Healing (medium): Healing — Put the start time on your calendar and set one reminder.Becoming (higher): Becoming — Add 1-1-1 blocks for the next three days.Food for Thought Today: Panic feeds on vagueness. One clear inch is often enough to move—then you plan the next inch from a steadier place. Progress, not pressure.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Meaning is a companion, not a cure; a small act of service or creation makes room for both love and ache in grief after suicide. Journal prompt: “A value I still trust—and one 10-minute way to live it…”What we mean by “meaning that doesn't erase pain” (so we're clear): Meaning isn't a cure or a performance. It's a small, honest act that lets love move alongside ache. Examples:Service: sending a resource to someone struggling; leaving water/snacks for tomorrow-you; holding a door on a hard day.Art: four lines of writing, a quick sketch, a photo of something true—not pretty, true.Legacy: speaking their name, lighting a candle before dinner, adding one memory to your witness log. Keep it 10 minutes or less, tied to a value you still trust (kindness, truth, presence, creativity, service).A Flicker (Hope) — A purposeful minute Folding one kindness into the day can warm the edges. Keep the warmth.To Rebuild (Healing) — Pick one lane (≤10 minutes) Service: share a resource, hold a door, donate $1, check on a neighbor. Art: write four lines, sketch one object, snap a photo that feels true. Legacy: speak their name, light a candle, note one memory in your “witness log.”Take a Step (Becoming) — Name why it matters Finish the sentence: “This act honors [value/them/me] because [reason].” Say it out loud; then do the act.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Hollow — Light a candle or speak their name once.Healing (medium): Healing — Do one 10-minute act in service, art, or legacy.Becoming (higher): Becoming — Schedule this act 2–3 times this week.Food for Thought Today: Meaning isn't a verdict that you're “better.” It's a humble way to carry what hurts while letting your love move somewhere tangible. The act is small on purpose; the point is movement, not proof.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Belonging doesn't need a crowd; one steady person or tiny space can hold you as you are after suicide loss.Journal prompt: “The kind of space where I breathe easier is… and one way I'll find/ask for it is…”What we mean by “tiny space” (so we're clear): A tiny space is low-pressure, consent-based, and specific—a container that fits your current capacity. Examples:One-to-one check-in: 20 minutes, cameras off, “no fixing—just listening.”Micro-circle: 2–4 people with a start/stop time and one norm (no advice, confidentiality).Quiet co-presence: a phone call while you both walk; sitting together in silence; texting during a hard appointment. Name where, how long, and what it is/not. Small and clear beats big and vague.A Flicker (Hope) — One steady person A single safe presence can change a room. Notice how your breath shifts when you're with them.To Rebuild (Healing) — Choose your container Find: a grief-savvy meetup, online circle, or support group. Pair: weekly 10–20 minute check-ins with one steady person. Host: a 30-minute “quiet tea” or walk with simple norms.Take a Step (Becoming) — Make the micro-ask Send one message: “Want to try a 20-minute check-in on Tuesdays? No fixing—just company.” Or: “Quiet tea Sunday? 30 minutes, arrive/leave as you need.”Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Hollow — List two names of steady people. That's it.Healing (medium): Healing — Send one check-in invite with a simple time window.Becoming (higher): Becoming — Post or schedule a tiny gathering with clear, gentle norms.Food for Thought Today: Community isn't a rescue; it's resonance. When your truth is witnessed without rush or advice, capacity returns—and with it, room to become.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Big days don't require big performances; choose your size—opt out, scale down, or re-script—to protect your energy in suicide bereavement.Journal prompt: “For my next tender date, I'll protect my energy by… (opt out / scale down / re-script) because…”What “choose your size” means (so we're clear): You get to set the size of participation to match your capacity.Opt out = skip entirely this year. Example: don't attend the gathering; plan a quiet walk + candle at home instead.Scale down = attend smaller/shorter/softer. Example: 20 minutes max, sit near an exit, sunglasses/earbuds, two people only.Re-script = change the who/when/where/ritual. Example: breakfast instead of evening, meet outdoors, write a note to them and leave early with an ally. Pair your choice with one ally, one exit signal, and one regulation (long exhale, step outside). Permission beats pressure.A Flicker (Hope) — Choice lowers dread Naming your option ahead of time softens the day. Relief is data—keep it.To Rebuild (Healing) — Pick one path Opt out: “Not this year.” Scale down: “Shorter, quieter, fewer people.” Re-script: “Different place, different time, different ritual.”Take a Step (Becoming) — Make it specific Write one sentence: “On [date] I will [opt out/scale down/re-script] by [what].” Add an ally + exit cue: “[Name] will text me at [time]; I'll leave when I squeeze their hand.”Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Hollow — Choose your path and jot it in notes. One line.Healing (medium): Healing — Set one logistics step (time/location/message) and a regulation plan.Becoming (higher): Becoming — Invite a helper/witness and send the plan today.Food for Thought Today: Honoring the day doesn't mean reenacting pain. Permission is protective: you're allowed to design something your body can survive—and even, gently, feel held inside. Capacity changes; your choices can, too.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Courage doesn't have to roar; in life after suicide loss, one small ask can unlock support, information, or relief.Journal prompt: “If Future-Me spoke up today, she'd ask me to…”What we mean by a “small ask” (so we're on the same page): A small ask is specific, short, and time-bound—one clear request that lightens the load. Examples:Support: “Could you check in with me Sunday evening?” / “Would you sit with me on the phone for 10 minutes—no fixing, just listening?”Information: “Can you point me to the right form/link for X?” / “Who handles scheduling for Y?”Logistics/Relief: “Do you have 15 minutes Tuesday to help me sort this?” / “Could you pick up milk when you're at the store?” / “Can you walk with me into the event and help me leave early?” Keep it to one ask, one time window, one person/service. Clean is kind—to them and to your nervous system.A Flicker (Hope) — Relief after a sent message Often the worst part is holding it. Notice the ease that arrives once the ask leaves your body.To Rebuild (Healing) — Choose your micro-ask Pick one:Information: “Can you point me to the right form/link?”Support: “Could you check in with me this weekend?”Logistics: “Do you have 15 minutes Tuesday to help me sort this?”Take a Step (Becoming) — Send it cleanly Keep it short, kind, and specific. End with one option for timing. If the answer is no or later, you still gained clarity (and energy).Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Hollow — Draft the ask in notes only. One sentence. Save.Healing (medium): Healing — Send one ask to a safe person or service.Becoming (higher): Becoming — Send two: one personal, one practical (e.g., admin/help).Food for Thought Today: Asking isn't burdening; it's distributing weight. Every clean request tells your nervous system you're not alone—and teaches your circle how to show up the way you need.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Values are steering, not slogans—translate one value into a doable 10-minute action and feel the quiet of alignment. Journal prompt: “A value I still trust—and one 10-minute way to live it…”A Flicker (Hope) — Alignment feels quieter When action matches belief, your body often softens. Notice the quiet that follows even a tiny aligned move.To Rebuild (Healing) — Name one value Options: kindness, truth, courage, service, creativity, presence, faithfulness. Write one sentence: “Today I live [value] by [micro-act].”Take a Step (Becoming) — Do the micro-act (≤10 min) Examples:Kindness: write a 3-sentence encouragement to someone struggling.Truth: draft a clear boundary email/text.Service: share a resource, leave water/snacks for tomorrow-you.Creativity: free-write or sketch for 10 minutes.Presence: phone-free walk around the block; notice three colors.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Hollow — Sit, place both feet on the floor, and say your value out loud once.Healing (medium): Healing — Do one 10-minute value act; drink a glass of water after.Becoming (higher): Becoming — Put a repeating 10-minute value block on your calendar (M/W/F).Food for Thought Today: Meaning grows where action repeats. Ten honest minutes, practiced regularly, changes the day more than a grand plan you never touch. You're not late—you're here.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Identity doesn't vanish after suicide loss; name the parts that still fit and make room for them on purpose. Journal prompt: “Where I feel most like myself lately is…”Identity doesn't vanish; it gets buried. Today we name the parts of you that still fit—and make room for them on purpose.A Flicker (Hope) — A familiar thread Notice one moment you felt like you this week—how you spoke, moved, created, cared. Keep that thread.To Rebuild (Healing) — Pick 1–2 identity words Examples: listener, maker, advocate, steady, honest, curious, playful, caretaker, organizer. Circle 1–2 that land today. Write them at the top of your notes app.Take a Step (Becoming) — Put identity on the calendar (≤10 min) Tie one micro-act to your word:Maker: lay out one tool (sketchbook, yarn, instrument) and touch it for 10 minutes.Advocate: send one supportive message or share one resource.Listener/Steady: check in on one person with a two-sentence text.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Hollow — Whisper your word once. Put a hand on your chest and breathe out longer than in.Healing (medium): Healing — Do one 10-minute identity act; stop when the timer ends.Becoming (higher): Becoming — Schedule this identity act 3 times this week.Food for Thought Today: Identity isn't a costume you perform; it's a way your love moves through the room. When you choose one small act that matches who you are, you're not pretending you're okay—you're remembering yourself in real time.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Small, honest repairs protect your energy in life after suicide loss—one kind line can reset connection -- reset a missattunemnet--and settle a day. Journal prompt: “Today, permission looks like…”A misattunement is when the response misses the moment—yours or theirs—so the nervous systems don't line up and everyone leaves a little off-key. “I wish I'd said…” scripts are short, kind repair lines you can send (or say to yourself) after the fact to realign—no essays, no debates, just a clean reset.If you want quick examples to ground it:“I appreciate you trying—today I need listening, not fixes.”“I'm not up for this topic; can we revisit tomorrow?”“I wish I'd said no earlier. I'm choosing quiet now.”Not every miss needs a summit. Today we use small, honest repairs that respect your energy. A Flicker (Hope) — Relief after a clean repair One line sent kindly can settle a day. Notice the calm that follows.To Rebuild (Healing) — Choose one script Delay: “I needed time to think. Here's what I wish I'd said…” Boundary: “Advice isn't helpful right now. Listening is.” Name it: “That comment was hard for me to hear. Can we try again?”Take a Step (Becoming) — Low-stakes delivery Pick the safest person/context. Send or say the line once. Then do a 30-second shake-out or long exhale to reset your body.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Write your repair line in notes only. No sending today.Healing (medium): Send one repair text or say it in a calm moment.Becoming (higher): Schedule a brief follow-up chat to close the loop.Permission for Today: Repairs are not performances; they're course-corrections. Every time you name what's true without blame, you lower the static and make space for connection that can actually hold you.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Get THE Leftover Pieces APP & don't miss anything! CLICK HERE Grief + Workdays: Micro-Boundaries That Keep You FunctionalJournal prompt: “One thing my body asked for (and what I did)…”Mondays can hit hard. Today we protect capacity with tiny, professional yes/no lines.A Flicker (Hope) — One clear choice Choosing “later” instead of forcing “now” can bring instant relief. That relief is data—keep it.To Rebuild (Healing) — Three office scripts Inbox: “I'll review and reply by EOD/Wednesday.” Meeting: “I can do 20 minutes; what's the priority?” Focus: “Heads-down for the next hour—will circle back after.”Take a Step (Becoming) — Bookend your day Add two 5-minute blocks to your calendar: Start-Up (water, orient, top 1 task) and Shut-Down (close tabs, summarize, tomorrow's first brick).Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Put up a 25-minute focus block (do-not-disturb + one small task).Healing (medium): Use one script verbatim today.Becoming (higher): Create a daily Start-Up and Shut-Down template and set them to repeat.Food for Thought Today: Professional clarity is humane—to you and everyone else. Boundaries reduce confusion, and less confusion means less activation. Let the calendar and the sentence do the heavy lifting.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Self-Witnessing When Others Can't Hold ItJournal prompt: “If I gave myself 10% more gentleness, I would…”Sometimes the right listener isn't available. Today we make sure you still get heard.A Flicker (Hope) — Proof you exist Your words on paper or in a memo are evidence. Seeing or hearing yourself can soften the edge—keep that proof.To Rebuild (Healing) — 5-minute self-witness Set a timer for 5 minutes. Speak or write: • What happened (facts, not drama). • What I feel (one word is enough). • What I need next (water, rest, boundary, help). Stop when the timer ends. No editing.Take a Step (Becoming) — Create a safe container Start a private note titled “Witness Log” or a folder of voice memos. Date today's entry. That's your place to come back to.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Write one sentence: “Right now I feel ____ and I need ____.”Healing (medium): Do the full 5-minute self-witness and drink a glass of water after.Becoming (higher): Add a repeating “Witness Log” reminder 3x/week.Food for Thought Today: Being your own witness is not a consolation prize; it's a discipline. Each honest entry quiets the part of you bracing to be misunderstood. You're teaching your system that your truth has a home.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Weekend Reset Ritual (Small, Repeatable, Real)Journal prompt: “Today, leaning into self-care looks like…”Weekends can feel loud or empty. Today we keep a tiny ritual that steadies you without stealing your energy.A Flicker (Hope) — A repeatable calm spot The same mug, the same chair, the same two minutes of quiet. Familiar can be soothing—let it be.To Rebuild (Healing) — Three-part reset (≤10 minutes)Clear a square: Tidy one small surface (nightstand, counter corner).Add a comfort: Warm drink, soft blanket, favorite song (60 seconds).Mark the moment: Light a candle or open a window; take one slow exhale.Take a Step (Becoming) — Name your ritual Give it a simple name—“Morning Patch,” “Porch Pause,” “Candle Minute.” Put it on your calendar for next Saturday/Sunday.Choose-your-energy menu:Hollow (low): Sit in your calm spot for 2 minutes. Breathe out longer than you breathe in.Healing (medium): Do the three-part reset once today.Becoming (higher): Schedule this ritual for both weekend days for the next month.Food for Thought Today: Rituals are bricks, not magic. The point isn't special—it's steady. Repeating one small kindness for your nervous system teaches your body where to find you when the day tilts.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Say Less, Save Energy (Boundaries Without the Essay)Journal prompt: “Today, permission looks like…”Clarity beats performance. Short, kind sentences protect your battery.A Flicker (Hope) — Immediate ease after a clean line Feel the exhale when you keep it simple: fewer words, less convincing, more relief. Keep the relief.To Rebuild (Healing) — Three scripts to pocket Time-box: “I can do 20 minutes.” Scale-down: “I'm joining by phone today.” Opt-out: “I'm skipping this one—catch you next time.”Take a Step (Becoming) — One rehearsal, one use Pick the script you'll most likely need. Say it out loud once (rehearsal). Use it at the first low-stakes opportunity.Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): Put your phone on Do Not Disturb for 15 minutes. Healing (medium): Send one boundary text using time-box or opt-out. Becoming (higher): Remove one non-essential task from this week and don't replace it.Food for Thought Today: You don't have to prove your pain to earn a boundary. The fewer words you need to be clear, the more energy you keep for healing. Let the sentence do the work—and let your nervous system enjoy the quiet that follows.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Boring Bricks That Quietly Save the Day (Food • Water • Rest)Journal prompt: “If I gave myself 10% more gentleness, I would…”Grace is practical. The basics aren't glamorous, but they are medicine.A Flicker (Hope) — Relief after refuel Notice how the room feels different after water, a snack, or ten minutes horizontal. That ease is data—keep it.To Rebuild (Healing) — The FWR check (2 minutes) Food: Protein + fiber in the next hour (yogurt, nuts, egg, hummus + crackers). Water: Drink a full glass now; set a reminder for two more today. Rest: Choose one—10-minute lie-down, 20-minute walk, or power-down screens 30 minutes early.Take a Step (Becoming) — Stage tomorrow's basics Set out a water bottle, prep one snack, and block a 20-minute “walk or lie-down” on your calendar. Make tomorrow easier now.Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): Drink a full glass of water and eat a handful of something simple. Done. Healing (medium): Do the full FWR check once today. Becoming (higher): Batch-prep two snacks and schedule your rest window for the week.Today, I Leave you Here: Your worth isn't measured by how well you push through. The basics are not “cheats”; they're scaffolding. Feed the body, water the system, lower the lights—then watch how much more humane the day becomes.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Regulate First (Nervous System Basics You'll Actually Use)Journal prompt: “One thing my body asked for (and what I did)…”Small regulation beats big resolve. Today is about tools you'll actually use in under two minutes.A Flicker (Hope) — Your body gives you clues Jaw unclenches after a slower exhale. Shoulders drop when you step outside. A tiny shift is still a shift—keep it.To Rebuild (Healing) — 3 quick resets (pick one) Orienting (60–90s): Look around and name 5 things you see, 3 you hear, 1 you feel on your skin. 3-3-6 breath (60s): Inhale 3 • hold 3 • exhale 6. Repeat 5 times. Warm/Cold contrast (30–60s): Warm drink or cool splash on wrists/face → slow exhale.Take a Step (Becoming) — Pre-game your transitions Choose one daily transition (wake-up, commute, post-work). Pair it with a 60–90 second reset above. Put it on your calendar as “Regulate first.”Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): 3-3-6 breath for one minute. Stop there. Healing (medium): Do orienting + a long exhale before your next task. Becoming (higher): Attach a reset to two transitions today (e.g., before email, before sleep).Food for Thought: Regulation isn't about becoming calm; it's about becoming capable. When your body feels a little safer, choices return. You don't need perfect peace to move—just enough steadiness to take the next honest inch. That counts, every time.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
A Gentle Reset (Your 24-Hour Plan)Journal prompt: “What I'm keeping from this week is…”End of first 7 days of October, not an end of you, just of the 1st 7 days of a new month...in a tough season. Today we keep what helped, release what didn't, and set a small plan for the next 24 hours.A Flicker (Hope) — Notice what worked once Which tiny thing warmed the room—witnessing, one brick, a boundary, a bit of light? Keep that. Repeats are allowed.To Rebuild (Healing) — 24-hour reset On paper or notes app, write three lines: • Flicker: one thing you'll notice (window light, song, candle). • Brick: one 7–10 minute task (body/home/admin/connection). • Care: one non-negotiable (water, food, meds, rest).Take a Step (Becoming) — Tomorrow's micro-intent One sentence, present-tense: “Tomorrow I move slowly and finish one thing.” Put it on your lock screen.Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): Do only the “Care” item. Done. Healing (medium): Do the Brick with a timer; stop when it dings. Becoming (higher): Share your micro-intent with a safe person or post it where you'll see it.To Consider Today: Integration is repetition, not heroics. The way through this season is often the next honest inch, practiced again tomorrow. When you choose a flicker, place a brick, and take one care step, you're not starting over—you're continuing. That counts.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Boundaries as Warmth (Not Walls)Journal prompt: “Today, permission looks like…”Boundaries aren't punishments—they're blankets. Today we practice limits that keep you warm enough to heal.A Flicker (Hope) — Relief after a clear no Notice what loosens when you cancel, leave early, or choose quiet. Relief is data. Keep the data.To Rebuild (Healing) — Scale it, don't explain it Use one of these today: • Time-box: “I can stay 30 minutes.” • Scale-down: “I'm joining by phone.” • Opt-out: “I'm skipping this one—catch you next time.” No five-paragraph essay required.Take a Step (Becoming) — Pre-write the line Choose one event this week. Pre-write your boundary and put it in your notes app. Read it once before you go. Use it as needed—early exits count.Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): Silence your phone for 20 minutes. Do nothing on purpose. Healing (medium): Send one boundary text using a time-box or opt-out.Becoming (higher): Remove one non-essential thing from your calendar this week.Just for Today: Clarity is a kindness to your future self. Every boundary you practice now becomes a bridge you can cross later when the season gets louder. You're not withdrawing from love—you're preserving the conditions under which love (and you) can breathe.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Carrying Them Forward (Without Disappearing You)Journal prompt: “A way to honor them by honoring me is…”“Carrying forward” includes you. Today we make room for their memory and your life—together.A Flicker (Hope) — Connection counts Their song in a store aisle. A phrase they loved. A photo you pass without bracing. These are ties, not traps. Let one connection feel like company.To Rebuild (Healing) — A 3-step carry-forward ritualName: Say their name out loud.Touchstone: Light a candle, play 30 seconds of “their” song, or hold an item.Include: Name one thing you need today (water, rest, fresh air). Do it next.Take a Step (Becoming) — The “and” sentence Write one sentence that holds both: “I miss you and I'm making soup,” “I'm aching and I'm paying this bill,” “I'm tearful and I'm taking a walk.” Put it somewhere visible.Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): Whisper their name and yours. Place a hand on your chest. Healing (medium): Do the 3-step ritual once today. Becoming (higher): Share your “and” sentence with a safe person or in a notes app check-in.Food for Thought Today: Love doesn't demand your disappearance to prove itself. Carrying them forward means building a life sturdy enough to hold their memory without collapsing—and that requires including your needs. Each small “and” you live is a quiet refusal to choose between love and survival. Both belong.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Light as Companion, Not CureJournal prompt: “Today's flicker of hope was…”Witnessing light without forcing it to fix anything. Today we let light walk beside us and do only what light can do—show the next few feet.A Flicker (Hope) — Light you can actually hold Morning sun through a window. Moonlight on the driveway. A soft lamp instead of overhead glare. Not profound—present. Let one bit of light keep you company.To Rebuild (Healing) — One-minute light practice Step outside or to a window. Look at the light source (not directly at the sun). Inhale 4, hold 2, exhale 6—three times. Name one color you can see more clearly now. That's it.Take a Step (Becoming) — Schedule a light ritual Pick a daily 2–5 minute light moment (sun patch, lamp + tea, porch twilight). Put it on your calendar for the same time each day this week.Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): Sit by a window for 60 seconds. Breathe out longer than you breathe in. Healing (medium): Take a 5-minute light walk (to mailbox, around the block). Becoming (higher): Set a recurring “light ritual” alarm for the week.Food for Thought: Light is a companion, not a cure. You don't have to wring meaning from it—notice and allow. When the day feels heavy, a single, honest moment of brightness can anchor you long enough to choose your next inch. Reaching for light isn't denying grief; it's giving your nervous system something steady to lean on while you carry it all.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Rebuilding from Ruins (Bricks, Not Blueprints)Journal prompt: "A way to honor them by honoring me is…"There's no master plan—just weather and small bricks. Today is about doable over dazzling so the house you're rebuilding can actually stand.A Flicker (Hope) — Small done beats big imagined Finish one tiny thing: rinse the mug, move bills to one stack, crack a window, light a candle. Finished equals a warmer room. Warmth counts.To Rebuild (Healing) — Brick-of-the-Day (≤10 minutes)Pick a lane: Body · Home · Admin · Connection. Choose one tiny task.When/Then: “When it's 10:30, then I'll start the dishwasher.”Remove friction: set a 7–10 min timer, put items within reach, begin. If activation > 6/10, pause, long exhale, pick a lighter brick. Finishing small is the win.Take a Step (Becoming) — Value → micro-move Choose a value (steady, truthful, kind, creative, brave, present). Translate to today's micro-move: Steady: add a daily 10-minute “Brick” block to your calendar. Kind: schedule-send a two-sentence check-in to a fellow griever. Creative: lay out one tool you'll use tonight. Brave: message to join/host a small grief-friendly meetup this month.Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): Drink a full glass of water and change your socks. Done. Healing (medium): Do one Brick-of-the-Day task with a timer. Stop when it dings. Name it out loud. Becoming (higher): Write one sentence for the week (e.g., “Fewer yeses, earlier exits”). Put it where you'll see it.Just for Today: Rebuilding isn't moving on—it's creating enough structure to carry love and loss at the same time. Ten honest minutes today beats another day of waiting for perfect conditions. The house you're making is lived-in, not staged; every small brick is proof you're still here, still building.One gentle breath. Keep what serves; leave the rest. I'll see you tomorrow.
Being Seen on PurposeJournal prompt: "What healing looks like—even when I can't feel it—is…"Witnessing redistributes weight. Not gone—carried together. Today we practice asking to be seen, cleanly and without apology.A Flicker (Hope) — You're allowed to be heard Five quiet minutes. A nod. A text that lands. Hope isn't a speech; it's an accurate reflection without fixing.To Rebuild (Healing) — The five-minute witnessing ask Text: “Could you hold five minutes for me today? No fixing—just listening.” Live/Call: “I don't need solutions—just five minutes to be heard. Is now okay?” If no one's free: 3–5 min voice memo, a not-sent letter, or a 60-second mirror check (one feeling, one need, one next inch).Take a Step (Becoming) — A boundary you'll actually use Draft one sentence for this week: “I'm heading out now; I've met my limit.” “I'm skipping this year, but I hope it's meaningful for you.” “Listening is all I need right now.”Choose-your-energy menu: Hollow (low): 5-4-3-2-1 grounding (see, touch, hear, smell, taste). Stop there. Healing (medium): Send the five-minute ask—or schedule it. If no person, record a 3-minute memo. Becoming (higher): Use your boundary once in a low-stakes moment.Food for Thought Today: Your story isn't a public utility. Curate who gets access. Clarity is care. You don't owe anyone a perfect explanation to deserve compassion; a simple “this is what I need” is enough. It's also okay if the right listener isn't available today—self-witnessing still counts, and choosing silence can be a boundary, not a failure. Keep practicing these small, clear asks until your body believes you're safe to be heard.Exhale. Keep what serves you; leave the rest. I'll be here again tomorrow.
Journal prompt: Today's flicker of hope was…This week..."Hope in the Hollow" Now, October. After the volume of Suicide Awareness Month, we drop into the quieter work. This DAILY NUGGET Series is called Hope, Healing, Becoming. It's here to carry us—and embolden us—through a tough stretch of the year. We didn't choose this road, but we can choose how we respond to it. This month, we practice the response—the inch we can actually take.Here's how the daily rhythm will go. Each episode is 5–7 minutes and touches three beats:Flicker (Hope): what's true right now—a small light you can actually hold.Rebuild (Healing): one concrete practice that steadies your body, heart, or world.Step (Becoming): a gentle move toward who you're becoming, without abandoning who you've been.You'll also get a short journal prompt and a three‑option “choose your energy” menu so you can pick the action that fits today. No gold stars. No toxic positivity. Just honest company and workable steps. Flicker (Hope) — The hollow isn't empty After the casseroles and check-ins fade, the hollow remains—the space grief carved. Not nothingness. Space. Quiet enough to hear your own breath. Hope belongs here because you're still here. It's not a floodlight; it's a cupped match. Let one warm thing count today. That's enough.Rebuild (Healing) — 90 seconds to lower activation You don't need to be “triggered” to deserve care. When the body spikes, go small:Name & notice (30s): “Right now I feel… [tight chest / foggy / restless].”4-count breath (45s): In 4 • hold 4 • out 6–8. Repeat 5–6 times.One brick (15s): Tiny action—sip water, crack a window, text “I'm here.” Bricks, not blueprints.Step (Becoming) — A micro-act that includes you Becoming isn't betrayal. Carry them—and you. Pick one identity word (listener, maker, advocate, steady, seeker). Do a ≤10-minute act that fits: lay out your journal, message a meetup lead, chop one ingredient, confirm a therapy slot, stand in a patch of sun. Put it on the calendar. Small on purpose; momentum over spectacle.Choose‑your‑energy menu:If you're in the hollow (low capacity): Put both feet on the floor and breathe out longer than you breathe in, five times. That's the whole assignment.If you're in healing mode (medium capacity): Send this text to one safe person: “Could you witness me for five minutes today—no fixing, just ears?”If you're ready to become (higher capacity): Do your ten‑minute identity micro‑act. When you're done, say their name and yours. Both belong.Take a breath. Notice what softened. Keep only what helps. I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon.
Today I share a recent conversation I had with a two-time suicide loss survivor, including her beloved son Zack in Sept. 2024.Meet Zack's MomPatty Born is a board-certified Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practitioner, licensed massage therapist, and nurse coach-in-training who integrates mind-body care. A two-time suicide loss survivor—her ex-husband (2012) Cahrlie, and her 19-year-old son, Zachary (Sept 2024)—Patty speaks openly about grief, stigma, and what truly supports healing. Her mission: normalize mental health conversations in healthcare and everyday life, and honor Charlie and Zack through the work she does.What we discuss:Awareness as education: why information isn't enough without honest, ongoing (hard) conversations.Reaching in vs. waiting for a reach-out: how to show up—practically, consistently, without tiptoeing.Disconnection as a health issue: the social and communal fractures driving distress—and what rebuilds belonging.Mental health is health: integrating mind-body care and making support an ordinary part of life, not a crisis add-on.Broadening risk: suicide can touch any family; dismantling stereotypes and widening our “who might need help” lens.Inner-circle codes: creating a shared signal for “I need to talk” vs. “I really need to talk”—and how to respond.Trauma aftercare: recognizing trauma (acute and cumulative) and the long-tail support people actually need.Parenting and loss: honoring Charlie and Zack while navigating meaning, purpose, and the day-to-day.Healthcare culture shifts: what clinicians can do differently tomorrow to reduce shame and increase safety.At the core, this episode insists that connection is protective—and that we can't wait for people to reach out; we have to reach in. Make help easy with clear signals and simple plans, and treat trauma care like rehab: structured, paced, and long-term. Ditch stereotypes about “who's at risk,” widen the lens, and talk about mental health the way we talk about any health—openly, without shame. That's how we honor the people we've lost and keep showing up for the ones still here.
In this September 2025 episode, in the midst of Suicide Awareness Month, I'm widening the lens from life after loss to awareness and advocacy. (BUT...We are NOT taking the preachy "prevention" angle that comes at us non-stop in Sept., I promise!) Writer/storyteller Jamie Brickhouse—a self-described SAS (suicide attempt survivor)—joins me to unpack the alcohol–depression loop, the suicidal mind, and the “why” questions so many of us carry after suicide loss. What to ExpectJamie's candid story and what shifted in the aftermath. He is an SAS & had lost 4 close friends to suicide.The alcohol ↔ depression cycle: how it feeds on itself & how he interrupted it.Why feature an attempt survivor on a show about life after suicide loss—& how awareness supports advocacy and lived legacy.Understanding the suicidal mind: distorted thinking, ambivalence, & signs we often miss.How & why, Jamie uses his platform now as a survivor and advocate.Clear takeaways & closing messages worth sticking around for.Links below to connect with Jamie & keep learning.About Jamie:"Called “a natural raconteur” by the Washington Post, Jamie Brickhouse is a writer, comedic storyteller, and TEDx speaker. He is the author of Dangerous When Wet: A Memoir of Booze, Sex, and My Mother, has written for the New York Times, Washington Post, Daily Beast, Salon, and Huffington Post. A six-time StorySLAM champion of The Moth, he has appeared on PBS's Stories from the Stage, The Moth Podcast, recorded voices on Beavis and Butthead, and tours the country with four award-winning solo shows. A two-time suicide attempt survivor and alcoholic in recovery for 16+ years, Jamie's TEDx talk about his lived experience and the intersection of alcoholism, depression, and suicidality that is part personal narrative and part calls to action has nearly 100k views. Jamie also tells a true story in high heels every day on TikTok where he has over six million views, one million likes, and 75,000 followers." Connect with Jamie:(If you only pick one --- PICK HIS TEDX TALK hands down --- but it's all fabulous!) TEDx Jamie Brickhouse TikTok Jamie_BrickhouseJamie Instagramhttp://www.jamiebrickhouse.com/Red Brick AgencySupport the show__________________________________________________________________________
Today I speak with a father who lost his son Heston to suicide June 7, 2020"Andy Campbell's new book, Overcoming Life's Toughest Setbacks, distills his 15 core beliefs that helped him keep going when life didn't let up. His lens is earned: childhood sexual abuse and bullying, losing his mother young, estrangement from his father, a diagnosis of stage-4 pancreatic cancer with multiple surgeries and chemo, and the death of his youngest son by suicide. The result is a practical, no-nonsense approach—favoring humility, clear thinking, focused work, relentless curiosity, perseverance, and finishing what you start. Andy writes and speaks for people who are exhausted, hurting, and still trying, offering a framework you can reach for when you need steadiness. He lives with his wife and stays closely connected to his three adult children."More at askandycampbell.com.His Book: Overcoming Life's Toughest SetbacksIn this episode: we walk through key ideas from the book and talk about Andy's son, Heston (age 18) how he and his family has been processing their loss since his passing. We get a peek at Andy's father's-eye view of resilience and what surviving—and continuing to live with meaning—looks like now. He discusses his 15 core beliefs and how they are the guideposts he's documented (first for himself and now in his book) that have provided a path to continue forward. He shares his "why" is to share these beliefs with real life examples as a possibility they will encourage someone that they too can continue in spite of the grief -- feel it completely but still move through it.Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
Check out the BECAUSE THEY ARE LOVED Poetry & Letter Anthology HERE& Get 10% OFF either (or both) with Code: PODCAST10Now, for our episode-- Today, I'm joined by Reshma Kearney — a trauma-informed mindfulness and healing guide who helps people navigate grief and the life transitions after suicide loss with compassion and resilience. After losing her husband, Sean to suicide in 2022, Reshma has chosen to dedicated her life to creating spaces where grief can be honored, healing can be nurtured, and hope can be rediscovered. She works with adults, teens, and children, blending grief education, mental health awareness, mindful parenting, and trauma-informed support to help others live meaningful lives after loss.Our conversation weaves through resilience, parenting, and the power of mindfulness, including:Age-appropriate ways to talk with kids about difficult topics, including lossHow having mindfulness tools in place before her husband's death — including with her children — shaped their healing journeyParenting through grief and why a child's outcome is so connected to the resilience of their momHer husband's military service, including three deployments, and how that affected his mental healthHow children's yoga became a powerful practice during the pandemic and continues to be a foundation in her family's lifeWhy skills for mourning and grief are different than skills for living and thriving — and how she supports others through one-on-one coachingThis is a heartfelt, real, and hopeful conversation about meeting grief with presence, nurturing resilience, and finding ways to live fully while carrying what we cannot change.FIND HER HERE: hello@reshmakearney.comHer Instagram --- give her a follow! Check out the BECAUSE THEY ARE LOVED Poetry & Letter Anthology HERE& Get 10% OFF either (or both) with Code: PODCAST10Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
On day one of Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, we explore how postvention becomes prevention—through families who consent to share a loved one's device so the Black Box Project can detect real-world patterns that help save lives.Kim Burditt Bartlett, MSW — She is a suicide loss sibling and Senior Manager of Family Engagement for Stop Soldier Suicide's Black Box Project. She creates trauma-informed resources and co-founded Sibling Strong Retreats. What is the Black Box Project is (plainly):A research and care initiative at Stop Soldier Suicide that, with family consent, analyzes data from devices of people who died by suicide to identify behavioral patterns and risk signals. Those insights are used to build models and interventions that reach others sooner. The project recently released its first findings (“The White Letter" - just released Aug 2025)Want to consider sending your loved one's device? REACH KIM DIRECTLY HERE kim.burditt@stopsoldiersuicide.org or at Direct phone: 919-275-0045Why this matters today:Postvention isn't just legacy; done right, it directly informs intervention and prevention.Families are not just “donors of data”—they're co-authors of new pathways to care.September is noisy; this is signal.In this episode we cover:Kim's brother Jon, and the path from personal loss to system-level change.How families are engaged, consent is handled, and what “dignity-first” looks like in practice.What the first findings suggest about detectable shifts before a death—and the limits of what data can and can't say.The core thesis: postvention → pattern → earlier intervention → prevention.Practical ways civilians (not just military families) can learn, share, or contribute to this work.Resources & links mentioned (or omitted):Stop Soldier Suicide — Black Box Project overview (learn, participate, or donate a device): [stopsoldiersuicide.org/blackboxproject]Stop Soldier Suicide/Black Box ProjectSibling grief: unique burdens, overlooked needs, and why peer connection matters --Sibling Strong Retreats (Kim's work for bereaved siblings). Sibling Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Grief truth: We keep going, together."Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---This month, we've walked through thirty-one days of truths about grief — the ones that don't fit on sympathy cards or in quick conversations, but live in the marrow of our lives.We've talked about love and loss, about how grief changes but never disappears, about how we carry them forward even as we learn to carry ourselves. If you've listened each day, you've done more than hear my words — you've shown up for your grief, for your heart, and for the love that still lives inside you. That matters. "Grief truth: We keep going, together."
"Grief will always be part of your story." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me --- It will not always be the main chapter—but it will always be written into the pages. "Grief will always be part of your story." Grief is not something you “finish” and leave behind. It becomes part of your life's landscape—woven into the way you see, feel, and love. With time, it may take up less space in your daily thoughts, but it will remain in the undercurrent, shaping who you are and how you move through the world. This isn't a curse. It's a reflection of the love you carry. You may find, over the years, that grief's presence becomes gentler, less sharp—but it will still speak to you in quiet moments, reminding you of the bond that cannot be broken. Your story is not only about loss—but loss is one of its threads. And that thread is woven from love. Breathe deeply. You are allowed to set down the weight, even for just a moment. What you know in your bones is unshakable. The journey you're on is sacred, even when it feels lonely. I'll meet you here again in OCTOBER for another go around of Daily Nuggets-- Until then, keep going. And remember, you are not alone--Talk SoonSupport the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Some days, survival is enough." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---Not every day will be a day of breakthroughs or big steps forward. Some days, breathing is the accomplishment. "Some days, survival is enough." Grief takes energy—more than most people realize. There will be days when your body and mind have nothing left for anything beyond the basics. And that's okay. You don't have to live every day as a monument to progress. Some days are for simply existing. For staying hydrated, for making it to the end of the day, for resting your head on the pillow knowing you did what you could. These days are not failures. They are part of the rhythm of healing—a rhythm that allows space for stillness as much as for movement. You are still here. You are still loving them. And on the hardest days, that is more than enough. Breathe deeply. You are allowed to set down the weight, even for just a moment. What you know in your bones is unshakable. The journey you're on is sacred, even when it feels lonely. I'll meet you here again tomorrow. Until then, keep going. Talk SoonSupport the show__________________________________________________________________________
"You can love them and love your life." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me --- At first, it may feel impossible—like joy would be a betrayal. But love is not a limited resource. "You can love them and love your life." Loving your life now doesn't mean loving them any less. In fact, it can be a way of honoring them—by living fully in the time you have, just as they would have wanted for you. Your love for them will always be part of you. Nothing in this world can dilute it. You can laugh, plan, dream, and still hold space for your grief. They can coexist. Sometimes joy will feel strange in grief's shadow—but in time, it will feel more like sunlight breaking through. You're not choosing between them and a future you can embrace. You're carrying both, in the same heart, as part of the same love.Take this breath. It's yours to soften into. The love you hold is real, and the path you walk is honored. No one else can live this story the way you do. I'll return tomorrow to walk with you again. Talk SoonSupport the show__________________________________________________________________________
"There will be days you feel closer to them." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---Grief is not a decline in connection to our loved one. Some days, they feel so near you could almost reach out and touch them. "There will be days you feel closer to them." It might happen on a walk, when the wind shifts just right. Or in the middle of a song, when the lyrics brush against a memory. These moments can be both beautiful and bittersweet—reminding you of what's gone while also assuring you that love hasn't vanished. Some days, the veil between your worlds feels thinner, and their presence wraps around you like a warm blanket. Don't rush through those moments. Let them linger. Let yourself feel them, without needing to explain or diminish their magic. These flashes of closeness are reminders: love is not bound by time, distance, or even death. Pause here. This moment belongs to you, and you don't have to rush it. The truths you carry are yours to keep. The steps you take are yours alone. I'll be back with you tomorrow. Until then, Talk SoonSupport the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Grief will teach you who your people are."Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me --- Loss has a way of clarifying relationships in ways nothing else can. "Grief will teach you who your people are."Some people will step closer, willing to sit with you in the silence, hold space for your tears, and ask nothing in return. Others will drift away, uncomfortable with your pain or unable to face their own fears. This can be painful—sometimes more than you expect. But it also clears a path for deeper, truer connections to grow. The people who stay, who don't flinch when your grief shows its rawest edges—those are the ones you can trust with your heart. And sometimes, grief introduces you to people you've never met before, but who understand you in ways that feel like coming home. In grief, your circle may grow smaller—but it will also grow stronger. Those who remain are the ones who truly see youThis moment is yours, and you are allowed to rest in it.You carry truths that no one can take from you.You are walking a path only you can know.I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Healing doesn't mean forgetting."Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---Some fear that moving forward will erase the person they love. But healing and forgetting are not the same thing."Healing doesn't mean forgetting."Healing is about learning how to carry their absence without it crushing you. It's about weaving them into your days in ways that feel gentle instead of jagged. You will still have moments where the ache is sharp—but over time, you'll also have more moments where love leads instead of pain.Your memories don't fade because you heal. In fact, healing often makes space for more of them to surface—because you have the capacity to hold them without breaking.They are not slipping away from you. Healing is simply building a life where you can meet them in memory without being destroyed by the missing.Your love remains. Your bond remains. Healing is the proof—not the erasure—of their place in your life.Breathe deeply. You are allowed to set down the weight, even for just a moment. What you know in your bones is unshakable. The journey you're on is sacred, even when it feels lonely. I'll meet you here again tomorrow. Until then, keep going.Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"It's normal to miss who you were before." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---Loss doesn't just take the person you love—it reshapes you. "It's normal to miss who you were before." You may look back at the version of yourself who laughed more easily, dreamed more freely, or moved through the world without the shadow of grief.It's okay to mourn that version of you.Grief changes the architecture of your life and your identity. That doesn't mean the person you are now is “less.” It means you have been carved out and remade by something profound. In time, you may find new strength, deeper compassion, or a different kind of joy—but it's still okay to long for the innocence and lightness you once carried.Both grief and gratitude can exist for who you were and who you are becoming.Missing your old self is part of missing them. Both are threads in the same tapestry of love and loss. Take this breath. It's yours to soften into. The love you hold is real, and the path you walk is honored. No one else can live this story the way you do. I'll return tomorrow to walk with you again. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"You don't have to explain your grief."Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---Not everyone will understand. And honestly? Not everyone needs to."You don't have to explain your grief."Grief is intimate. It lives in the small moments, the private memories, the quiet aches only you can fully feel.You don't owe anyone a map of that landscape. You don't have to justify why today feels harder than yesterday, or why a certain song brings you to your knees.Some people will get it without words. Others won't—and that's okay.Your grief is not a debate to be won or a performance to be evaluated. It is yours to honor, in the way that feels right to you, without explanation.You are allowed to carry your grief quietly. It's not your job to make it legible to the world—it's your job to tend to your own heart. Pause here. This moment belongs to you, and you don't have to rush it. The truths you carry are yours to keep. The steps you take are yours alone. I'll be back with you tomorrow. Until then, rest easy. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Grief can change your definition of strength."Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---Before loss, strength might have looked like pushing through, holding it all together, or never letting anyone see you cry. After loss, strength often has a different face. "Grief can change your definition of strength."Grief strips away the illusions we once had about what it means to be “strong.”It teaches us that real strength is showing up when our heart feels heavy, letting the tears fall instead of swallowing them down, and asking for help when we can't carry the weight alone.Strength is choosing to keep living—not because it's easy, but because love calls us to.It's not about appearing unshaken; it's about moving through the shaking and still finding a way to take the next breath.You may not see your strength in the mirror, but it's in the quiet choices you make every day to keep going.Your strength is not measured by how little you hurt. It's measured by how deeply you love, even when it hurts the most.This moment is yours, and you are allowed to rest in it.You carry truths that no one can take from you.You are walking a path only you can know.I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Grief is the price of love." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---If we never loved deeply, we'd never hurt this much. "Grief is the price of love." Grief is not a punishment. It's the echo of the love that filled your life—and the love that still lives inside you.The ache you feel is proof that what you had was real, beautiful, and worth every moment.If the price of that love is this grief, it's a price we pay willingly—because to have lived without it would have been an even greater loss.We can't separate love and grief. They are two sides of the same coin, and both are sacred. Let your grief remind you: you loved deeply, and that love will always be yours. Breathe deeply. You are allowed to set down the weight, even for just a moment. What you know in your bones is unshakable. The journey you're on is sacred, even when it feels lonely. I'll meet you here again tomorrow. Until then, keep going. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"There is no 'getting over' grief." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me --- We've all heard it: “You'll get over it.” As if loss is something we recover from, like a cold. "There is no 'getting over' grief." But grief is not an obstacle you climb and leave behind. It's not a wound that disappears without a scar.It becomes part of you—woven into the way you see the world, the way you love, the way you move through your days.Over time, you might laugh more, cry less, feel a little lighter. But you're not “over it.” You're carrying it differently. You're integrating it into a life that's been permanently changed.The truth is, we don't get over grief—we grow around it.Don't let anyone convince you that healing means forgetting. It means learning to live fully with your love and your loss side by side. Take this breath. It's yours to soften into. The love you hold is real, and the path you walk is honored. No one else can live this story the way you do. I'll return tomorrow to walk with you again. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Memories are a form of connection." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---We sometimes fear that talking about them will hurt too much—or that others will grow tired of hearing their name. But memories are not just reminders of what we've lost. They're threads that keep the connection alive. "Memories are a form of connection." Every story you tell, every mental picture you replay, every detail you hold close—it's all a way of keeping them with you. Memories can bring tears, yes. But they can also bring comfort, laughter, even a deep sense of gratitude for the moments you were given. They remind us that the relationship didn't end when their life did. Love doesn't vanish; it just shifts into new forms—and memory is one of the most powerful of those forms.So speak their name. Share their stories. Every time you do, you keep the bond alive. Pause here. This moment belongs to you, and you don't have to rush it. The truths you carry are yours to keep. The steps you take are yours alone. I'll be back with you tomorrow. Until then, rest easy. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"It's okay to not be okay." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---There's a strange pressure after loss to present yourself as “fine,” as though grief is something that should be quickly packaged and hidden away. "It's okay to not be okay." But pretending you're okay doesn't make the pain disappear—it just pushes it deeper, where it festers.Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is admit, “I'm not okay right now.” It's not weakness. It's honesty. And honesty is what opens the door to real support.When we give ourselves permission to not be okay, we give others a chance to meet us where we are. We also give ourselves the compassion we need to heal in our own time.Grief is not a problem to be fixed—it's a wound to be tended. And tending takes truth.If today isn't okay, let that be enough. You're still allowed to rest, breathe, and hope that tomorrow will feel even a little lighter.This moment is yours, and you are allowed to rest in it.You carry truths that no one can take from you.You are walking a path only you can know.I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Your pace is the right pace."Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---We live in a world that measures progress in milestones, deadlines, and “shoulds.” But grief doesn't fit neatly into any of those boxes. "Your pace is the right pace."Some people will think you're “moving too slow.” Others will think you're “doing too well” too soon. The truth? None of them live in your body or carry your loss.Your grief moves at the pace it needs. Sometimes that's two steps forward and one step back. Sometimes it's sitting in place for weeks until you can catch your breath.There is no finish line, no expiration date, no universal speed limit for healing. You are allowed to take as much time as you need—and to pick up the pace only when you decide it's right. You don't need anyone else's permission to take your time. The pace that lets you breathe is the right pace for you.Let's take another breath.Let this moment be enough.Keep what serves you, leave the rest I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Joy and grief can live in the same heart." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---For a long time, I thought joy would be a betrayal—that if I laughed or felt lightness, it meant I'd somehow let go of the person I lost. "Joy and grief can live in the same heart." What I've learned is that grief and joy are not enemies—they're companions. Joy is not the absence of grief; it's the reminder that love still lives here.When we give ourselves permission to feel joy again, we're not moving on—we're moving with. We're letting our love for them expand into the moments they can no longer experience. Sometimes joy is a big, loud burst of laughter. Sometimes it's quiet—a sunrise, a song, the warmth of someone's hand in yours. And sometimes it's bittersweet, joy and sorrow woven so tightly you can't tell them apart. Both are welcome. Both are human. Both are part of love. When joy shows up, let it in. It's not replacing your grief—it's reminding you that your heart is still capable of holding beauty alongside the pain.Let's take another breath.Let this moment be enough.Keep what serves you, leave the rest I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"You are not weak for grieving." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---Some people mistake tears for fragility, or heartbreak for collapse. But grief has a way of showing us that real strength often looks nothing like what we thought it would. "You are not weak for grieving." It takes unimaginable strength to get out of bed when the weight of loss is pressing you into the mattress. It takes courage to speak your loved one's name when it catches in your throat. It takes grit to face birthdays, holidays, and ordinary Tuesdays without them.Strength isn't about smiling when you want to cry, or staying “positive” when the ache is overwhelming. True strength is continuing to live when a part of your heart is gone.If anyone has told you to “be strong,” I want you to know this—you already are. Every breath you take in the shadow of your loss is proof of that.Don't measure your strength by how well you hide your pain. Measure it by how you keep going in spite of it.Now, take another breath.Let this moment be enough.Keep what serves you, leave the rest I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
"Grief changes, but it never disappears." Welcome, fellow griever.This is your Daily Nugget from me, Melissa, your host of The Leftover Pieces.Today we will share a moment of presence, a breath of truth, and a reminder.Lean in with me ---In the early days, grief can feel like it's everywhere—heavy in your chest, clouding your mind, weighing down every breath. But as time passes, it shifts. The edges soften, the waves become less constant… yet it's still there."Grief changes, but it never disappears." I've learned that this change isn't about grief leaving—it's about us changing in relationship to it. At first, it knocks us flat without warning. Over time, we find our footing. We still feel the pull of the tide, but we know where the rocks are, where the shallows give us a break, and how to keep our head above water when it rises suddenly. Grief becomes part of the terrain we live in—not the only feature, but one that shapes our days. It may surprise us sometimes with its depth or strength, but it also teaches us resilience. And the truth is, I wouldn't want it to disappear completely. Because if it did, so would the reminder of just how deeply I loved.If your grief looks different now than it did before, it's not a sign you're “over it.” It's a sign you've been learning to live alongside it—and that's its own kind of strength.Now, take another breath.Let this moment be enough.Keep what serves you, leave the rest I'll be here again tomorrow. Talk soon. Support the show__________________________________________________________________________
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