It amazes me that I’ve been AWOL for a long time, yet subscriptions are growing faster than ever before. I’m truly humbled, especially right now.
Shortly after sending my last letter in September, I booked myself a Covid-friendly getaway to the mountains, not far from home. It seemed like the perfect way to cap off the shithole we’ve referred to as 2020. I had to get away for a while and regroup, recharge, and study.
But I wasn’t prepared for any of the events that would follow. Neither would you be.
You won’t EVER be prepared to spend $2000.00 on a course, only to have the worst tragedy a human could suffer fall into your lap a week later. Suddenly, the money means nothing.
You won’t EVER be prepared for when you’re merrily on your way to a new life path when a Mac truck hits you square in the face. In an instant, you lose the will to live.
You won’t EVER be prepared for when life says, “Oh no you don’t, not so fast. We’re going to keep you at a dead standstill for a very long time.”
But mostly, you will never, ever be prepared to have the breath ripped out of your lungs in a split second. A second that forever changes your life, your identity, and everything you thought was real.
I may be the only person alive today who doesn’t give a shit about recent changes on Medium. How real is Medium even?
Because nothing feels real anymore, after losing a child.
So, if you’ve signed up for this newsletter recently and wondered why nothing arrived? It’s because I’ve become paralyzed.
It’s almost insulting that there’s SO much to take care of after death. It’s as if this was set up by design so you don’t have time to sit and wallow in sadness. It’s perplexing, really.
I’ll be honest, it may be a long while before I do real things again because I’m busy talking to spirits over here. They’re more intriguing than humans, and so far they’ve helped me find and inherit a Mercedes Benz. But the trade-off most certainly was not worth it.
If you don’t believe spirits send us signs, you’re just not looking hard enough.
If you’ve read this email all the way through, I thank you. I wouldn’t know what to say to me either. Awkward silence is totally acceptable. I’m not going to pretend that everything is business as usual because it’s not.
But just know that I really appreciate you all and if you can be patient, things will get better in time. Day by day, one step at a time.
Thank you all for being here.
Kristi
I wish I could offer more words of comfort, alas they seem hollow when it comes to dealing with such a tragic loss. I think you're incredibly strong, even if you might not feel it right now. Know my thoughts are with you. Many hugs. 💓
Only those of us who know can know. 35 years and it doesn't get better.