Victoria, after having to care for my mum, your phrase "holding both" stayed with me throughout the entire letter. So many of us spend years believing we must choose between strength and tenderness, grief and gratitude, acceptance and hope. Such a great reminder that worth is a practice, not a destination, is one I think many caregivers, and frankly many women, need to hear. Thank you for sharing such an honest and compassionate reflection
Hi Karen. This phrase "holding both" has been with me for quite some time. I find it resonates with many for different reasons. So glad you're here, thank you for reading!
Thank you for your comment, Karen. Actually, I’m only hosting the letter - @Maria Messer is the author, and I agree with your comment; her reflections offer us much-needed expressions for our caregiving.
Maria, this is stunning. 'Radical acceptance won’t ask you to stop loving him. It’ll ask you to stop pretending that loving him means denying the rest.' That line stopped me cold.
To answer Victoria’s prompt: my husband is my greatest teacher. He doesn't use words anymore, but every single day he teaches me the true definition of resilience, patience, and what it actually means to strip away the noise and just stay. He also inadvertently forces me to learn how to 'hold both'—the profound grief of the life we lost, alongside the fierce, quiet love of the life we are living right now in the gray. Thank you for giving such beautiful, expansive language to a space that so often feels entirely wordless.
Thank you for sharing, Allie! I feel this deeply. While I often feel the weight of grieving the loss of the life I thought Carter would live, I haven't really thought about that weight with my partner. That is heavy and will keep my mind occupied for a bit. Happy Wednesday!
Just as your beautiful post says, she's taught me that language is NOT needed for true, deep communication. I've always been a words person, so this has blown my mind! And humbled me, tbh, who knows what else I'm wrong about!
A quote o often come back to is, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us,” by Ralph Waldo Emerson. It reminds me to stop focusing on what’s already happened and fearing what lies ahead. Instead, I focus on my inner strength and inner peace.
One of the things I'm learning is that both can be true at the same time: our past shapes us, and our future matters—but neither gets the final say. What lies within us is often where resilience, courage, and hope are quietly waiting, even when we can't see them clearly ourselves.
This letter was my attempt to reconnect with that part of myself. The part that has already survived hard things and can trust itself to navigate what comes next.
Thank you for sharing this reminder. It feels like a beautiful companion to the message.
Your write: "Worth is not something you’ll discover once and then carry effortlessly into every room and every morning after.
Worth is a practice. Daily. Imperfect. Some days with confidence, some days through gritted teeth. You don’t earn it by holding everything together. You don’t lose it when everything falls apart."
This seems a universal truth, especially for those who navigate the choppy waters of caregiving. With love, even when that doesn't feel like enough.
Victoria, after having to care for my mum, your phrase "holding both" stayed with me throughout the entire letter. So many of us spend years believing we must choose between strength and tenderness, grief and gratitude, acceptance and hope. Such a great reminder that worth is a practice, not a destination, is one I think many caregivers, and frankly many women, need to hear. Thank you for sharing such an honest and compassionate reflection
Hi Karen. This phrase "holding both" has been with me for quite some time. I find it resonates with many for different reasons. So glad you're here, thank you for reading!
Thank you for your comment, Karen. Actually, I’m only hosting the letter - @Maria Messer is the author, and I agree with your comment; her reflections offer us much-needed expressions for our caregiving.
Oops sorry, I meant that and got caught up in my reply and forgot (menopause fart brain).
🤣 I totally get that!
There is so much wisdom in this letter.
Thank you so much!!!
Maria, this is stunning. 'Radical acceptance won’t ask you to stop loving him. It’ll ask you to stop pretending that loving him means denying the rest.' That line stopped me cold.
To answer Victoria’s prompt: my husband is my greatest teacher. He doesn't use words anymore, but every single day he teaches me the true definition of resilience, patience, and what it actually means to strip away the noise and just stay. He also inadvertently forces me to learn how to 'hold both'—the profound grief of the life we lost, alongside the fierce, quiet love of the life we are living right now in the gray. Thank you for giving such beautiful, expansive language to a space that so often feels entirely wordless.
Thank you for sharing, Allie! I feel this deeply. While I often feel the weight of grieving the loss of the life I thought Carter would live, I haven't really thought about that weight with my partner. That is heavy and will keep my mind occupied for a bit. Happy Wednesday!
How utterly wonderful that you had your tattoo done, then lived your way into it. Could your past self have known somehow? Extraordinary.
My non-verbal daughter has taught me more than anyone. The learning has not been easy, but it has also been joyous. Holding both!
It's so true! I had no idea what this tattoo would come to mean when I was 20ish
What is an example of something your daughter has taught you?
Just as your beautiful post says, she's taught me that language is NOT needed for true, deep communication. I've always been a words person, so this has blown my mind! And humbled me, tbh, who knows what else I'm wrong about!
Beautiful article. Thank you for sharing.
A quote o often come back to is, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us,” by Ralph Waldo Emerson. It reminds me to stop focusing on what’s already happened and fearing what lies ahead. Instead, I focus on my inner strength and inner peace.
Thank you for this. I love that quote.
One of the things I'm learning is that both can be true at the same time: our past shapes us, and our future matters—but neither gets the final say. What lies within us is often where resilience, courage, and hope are quietly waiting, even when we can't see them clearly ourselves.
This letter was my attempt to reconnect with that part of myself. The part that has already survived hard things and can trust itself to navigate what comes next.
Thank you for sharing this reminder. It feels like a beautiful companion to the message.
Your write: "Worth is not something you’ll discover once and then carry effortlessly into every room and every morning after.
Worth is a practice. Daily. Imperfect. Some days with confidence, some days through gritted teeth. You don’t earn it by holding everything together. You don’t lose it when everything falls apart."
This seems a universal truth, especially for those who navigate the choppy waters of caregiving. With love, even when that doesn't feel like enough.
Thank you for such beautiful writing! Take care.
Thank you, Vicki! I’ve really had to learn that last sentence the hard way. “You don’t lose it when everything falls apart.”