Brave Yeses: Rebuilding After Loss

Yesterday, I spent the day at a craft market selling my handmade jewelry. Selling my jewelry has been rewarding, but it also brings stress and anxiety. I thought my day would be about putting myself out there, maybe making some sales but it turned out to be about so much more. I sold some pieces and the day was a success but that’s not what I woke up thinking about.

Instead, what stayed with me the next day were two small but powerful moments that had nothing to do with sales & business and everything to do with healing.

After Carter died and we moved to the White Mountains, it felt like my entire life had dissolved. Most of my anchors were gone or didn’t feel right anymore. I spent the first few years just surviving. I had no interest in anything, I numbed out with TV, and isolated in our condo. It was a lonely existence, but it felt easier than facing the pain of what my life had become.

During therapy, I talked about how miserable I was even in this numb, disconnected state. I felt stuck between the pain of the past and the emptiness of the present. My therapist suggested the idea of “faking it till you make it.” We made plans for me to start saying yes to small, intentional things, even if they scared me. Two of those yeses were teaching a six-week jewelry class to middle schoolers and a job teaching skiing at Carter’s favorite mountain.

Yesterday, those two small yeses came full circle.

At the market, one of my middle school jewelry students stopped by. I smiled and asked if she remembered me. She looked surprised and said, “Yeah! It’s Danielle. Hey Mom, remember I told you about Danielle from the jewelry studio?” She was even wearing a ring she had made in our class. That moment stopped me in my tracks. She remembered me, she was proud of what she made, and I had made an impact.

After losing Carter, I never thought I’d be able to create something meaningful again, let alone feel like myself. That small moment, being remembered, seeing her wear her creation reminded me that I am rebuilding. I’m still a teacher, just in a new way, in a new life. That moment filled me with hope, it felt real, and it made me feel like "me" again.

The second yes that mattered yesterday was setting up my booth next to two of my ski instructor friends from the mountain. When we first moved here, I didn’t know anyone and for a while, I didn’t want to. The isolation felt safe. Saying yes to the job at the ski mountain helped me break that isolation. I started making acquaintances with others who love skiing. Over the winter, I discovered that two of the other instructors are artists too. One is even a potter who also attends my studio school.

Yesterday wasn’t just a market, it was time spent with friends who share my interests. We all love skiing, creating, and teaching. Saying yes to that mountain job helped me find community again. It gave me a place where I belong, where people know my story and still welcome me.

This life still feels surreal. I never wanted my old life to change. When it did, it shattered everything but somehow, these small, intentional yeses have brought beauty back into my life. It’s not the same as it was, and it never will be. One quote I’ve held onto in my grief is:
“The past does not equal the future.”
I remind myself that my life without Carter will never be equal to my life with him and that’s okay. I can still cherish the past while allowing the future to look different.

Today, I feel proud. Proud that I said yes when I was terrified and proud that I kept showing up. If I hadn’t, I’d still be hiding in my condo, waiting for the pain to pass.

Sometimes, healing looks like saying yes before you're ready.