New book RISE AGAIN

Grief can feel like weather that never breaks, a low ceiling you carry into every room. When loss hits a life already full of deadlines, family needs, and private doubts, the ground can tilt. This conversation reframes that tilt as a path. We talk about stacking small acts of courage, asking for help sooner, and letting community hold the weight when your hands shake. Instead of hiding pain, we examine it with care. Accepting grief is not surrender; it is the first clear step toward movement, confidence, and purpose.

A core idea is refusing to rise alone. Many of us try to outwork sorrow, to “handle it” in silence, but isolation hardens pain. We walk through how to name what hurts, how to reach toward people who can listen without fixing, and why vulnerability is practical strength. Support is not a bonus; it is the scaffolding that allows you to rebuild. When you invite mentors, friends, faith communities, or peer groups into your process, you borrow steadiness until your own balance returns.

The Rise Again book and workbook sit at the center of this approach. They blend story and structure: reflections to open wounds safely, prompts that turn feelings into language, and exercises that convert language into action. We talk best practices: set a clear intention, find a quiet place, read each chapter in sequence, and answer slowly. Honesty matters more than eloquence. Use extra pages or a separate journal to keep what surfaces. If a prompt stings, pause and breathe. Healing that respects your pace lasts longer.

We outline a gentle workflow to make the workbook effective. Start by stating what you want to reclaim: sleep, courage, trust, or simple daily momentum. Then, map triggers and supports—what drains you, what lifts you. Review your responses after each section to find patterns you can test in real life. Translate insights into micro-commitments: one conversation you’ll have, one boundary you’ll draw, one routine you’ll try for seven days. Return weekly to mark shifts, celebrate small wins, and rewrite plans with what you’ve learned.

There’s a wider promise here: confidence can be rebuilt without pretending. The book honors messy progress, nonlinear timelines, and the mix of sorrow and joy that healing contains. We highlight stories of losing loved ones, miscarriages, friendships, and colleagues, and how purpose reappears like a path after fog. Community transforms shame into shared language, and shared language into action. The message is simple and demanding: your life has room for both grief and growth. With time, tools, and people, you can rise again.