If you look at main For the Hive page today, you’ll notice a shift. From here on out, this space is officially The Hive: A place of connection and collective wellbeing.
I am leaning into this new direction because of a strong, unshakeable belief: strong, healthy communities are built on connection, hope, and joy.
But let’s be entirely clear about what that means. True hope is not false optimism. It is not forced joy, or pretending that everything is always okay. It’s not. Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful, but it is often incredibly hard. Loss is real. Grief is real.
Over sixteen years ago, when I was a young mother, I suddenly and unexpectedly lost my own mom. Her death shattered my world. It was not okay, I was not okay. The grief from that loss is very real today. Yet, I still find joy when I feel her love around me when I get to hug my siblings and see mom in their smiles. I am filled with optimism when one of my kids bakes a cake using her handwritten recipe or I bake mom’s banana bread in her loaf pan.
That loss was my first profound lesson in how the world can break apart, and somehow we learn to carry the pieces. I had no idea how much I would need that exact resilience years later, when my world was unexpectedly shaken all over again.
Everything was not okay last year when I was fired. I was let go from a job that I loved—a career I had given my entire adult life to—without reason, without cause, and without any idea it was coming. Once again, it felt like everything had fallen apart.
Finding the Space to Rebuild
During this most recent dark season, the world didn’t magically fix itself. But I chose to look for the light anyway. I found peace in an early morning walk with my partner and our dogs. I found a tiny flash of joy in a single, small purple flower growing in the grass of our yard or a hug when my kids came home from schoool.
For me, grief and loss have become signs to slow down. They force us to focus on the small flashes of joy, to hold tight to what is truly important, and then—when we are ready—to rebuild stronger from the ashes. Optimism is the quiet belief that a better future is possible, and that something good is always achievable if we pause and allow it in. Sometimes it finds us in the moments of waiting. Sometimes we have to build it. But hope and optimism survive.
This is the heartbeat of collective wellbeing. We don’t build community by hiding our scars; we build it by sharing how we survived the winters.
Join the Hive (Let’s Connect)
To help us start truly showing up for one another, I’ve updated this site to allow comments below. This is no longer just a broadcast; it is a conversation. It is a space where we can carry our burdens together and celebrate the small joys side-by-side.
For our very first comment thread, I invite you to step into the hive with me:
Share a Flash of Light: Think of a difficult or messy season you’ve walked through (or are walking through right now). What was one tiny, unexpected thing—a song, a walk, a kind word, a small flower—that brought you a flash of peace or joy?
The space below is yours. It is safe, it is open, and it is a place for your true, authentic self. I can’t wait to read your stories.