Music + Intuitive Movement = Grief Medicine {Grief•Flow}

If I don’t make space for my grief to flow, the greater flow of my mental and physical energy stagnates, as does my connection to the Divine and to creativity.

If grief doesn’t have space to flow, I feel muted and closed off to intimacy with my loved ones, without words to express and share my heart.

If I haven’t made space for grief to flow, my body and energy feel flat and my eyes tired.

Finding the ways and spaces where I feel free to really sink into grief, sometimes for 5 minutes, other times for as long as needed, has been a work in progress.  I find it is so much easier to connect to it and offer it space when I don’t feel alone, when I am held in love by someone else, or by music.

The idea of a GriefFlow ceremony was born in Fall of 2021. As the shock of saying goodbye to my mom began to wear off slowly, 6 months later, the heaviness in my body felt stifling and unrelenting.  

I was extra sensitive to stimulation and realized that music without lyrics met me in my broken-open heart with softness, in ways nothing else could.  One afternoon while sitting out in the autumn sun, my Spotify ‘Discover Weekly’ playlist introduced a piece that instantly captivated me. 

Within a few moments of listening I could hear the grief alive in the song - I could feel the yearning, missing, dreaming, remembering, and the connection to all that was, is and will or won’t be.

I went on a Google deep dive to find the story that went with it, and quickly learned that the artist had written it shortly after his mom passed away from cancer. I was stunned and in awe of how my body and heart could feel the source of the creation.

I played the song over and over again, and as I listened, my body wanted to move with the music. It felt so good to be held by the dancing melodies, which seemed to represent the many faces of grief, loss, hope, love, and peace. 

Tears would flow in some moments, and in others my lips would form the biggest smile. I would often start the song seated, and at some point something inside of me would lead me up and into movement. Then a few minutes later, it would call me back to the floor to simply lay there and receive the medicine of the music. 

The medicine of knowing I was not alone in this pain.

During the 8 minute song, I would go from feeling dull and disconnected, to feeling my body and heart fluid and alive again.  Like I could breathe deeply and see life again, within and without.

Sometimes I would feel called to clean afterwards, or fold my clothes (things that were hard for me to find energy for at the time). Other times I would feel hunger rumble for the first time in days and be inspired to cook something new and fresh, or I would move to my easel and paint. 

Sometimes I would just lie there and rest. 

Sometimes messages would arrive, other times I would receive the nourishment of the silence.

Each tiny little ceremony the music helped me hold liberated a little bit of energy that had been suppressed, without forcing, expectation or agenda.  No need to be any way or place that I wasn’t.  I could let all my emotions arise and move.

As I found myself in this GriefFlow over and over again, I began to dream of a space where we could honor grief like this in community. Where lyrics and words wouldn’t be necessary, because let’s be real - grief often extends beyond what words can reach.

And here we are.

During the next GriefFlow Workshop, we will begin with a short introduction and reflection, and then I will guide you into an opening meditation that allows you to feel into any ways or places grief might be alive for you right now.  

As we soften into our inner landscapes, I will press play on a curated playlist (all songs without lyrics), and then will guide you as you listen to your body, to how the music meets you and moves you.  Most people will want their cameras off during this part, to feel free to be in their space as they wish.

As the music concludes (about 25 mins in total), we will transition into a time to circle and share anything that arose. There will also be space to ask questions or for guidance from me.

While I can't predict what will arise and move within you during this workshop, I can tell you that people are often surprised by how light, refreshed, grounded yet energized they feel at the end.

The grief that moves and transmutes in these workshops may be everything from the loss of a loved one, or a relationship, to the loss of a home or homeland, a season of life, job, a dream, of health, or the grief of living in an imperfect world as imperfect humans.

I believe we all harbor grief in one or more ways. 

This workshop is for everyone that is willing to open to it, even if you don’t consciously know the where, why, and how. 

I invite you into the mystery and all that awaits, with deep trust it will be nourishing to your soul and beyond.

---

join me

Book your exploratory session with me here

October 11 @5pm ET / 4pm CT / 2pm PT: GriefFlow LIVE Workshop - REGISTER HERE

October 25th @5PM ET / 4pm CT / 2PM PT: Embodied Acceptance LIVE Workshop - REGISTER HERE

REGISTER FOR BOTH WORKSHOPS & SAVE $10 HERE

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EP #1. Introducing My New Podcast: The Fountain with Ellie Thomas

I have a really exciting announcement today - a project I have been playing with since mid-march is finally ready to be shared with you!

After 5 months of listening, exploring, advancing, and then retracting and refining until it felt more clear, The Fountain with Ellie Thomas Podcast is LIVE 🎉🎧✨.

The Becoming of The Fountain began months ago…

When I let go of the Deeply Nourished For Life podcast and took it off air in early 2021, I had no idea if another show would emerge with time or not.  Now, 2.5 years later, many of the elements that I originally engaged as part of my work with Deeply Nourished for Life and The Well Together Collective have re-emerged, asking to be shared, explored, and offered with the energy that now flows through me.

While it doesn't seem that surprising in hindsight, each time it happens feels pretty wild – like an old, long-lost friend arriving at my door after years of being out of touch, yet knowing the love has never faltered. There is catching up to do, new expression available on both ends, lots of questions and reflections to be entertained, and eagerness to get to know each other as we are now and see what can become of our re-union.

This new podcast first tapped me on the shoulder in early March of this year.  I had just taught a class on Sacred Grief, where I shared pieces of my walk with grief and its transformative nature in my life.  While I unconsciously knew there was exponential wisdom ready to be shared through me, it wasn't until the class finished that I had a clearer glimpse of just how much, and how eagerly it wanted be let out.

I believe that once embodied, wisdom and teachings don't need to be spoken to be shared and of service - our simple beingness can bestow them.  However,  as the internal treasure chest opened that day, I saw that each jewel would only multiply and take its fullest shape and form when I offered them to an external home – a place where those hungry could arrive, receive, connect and interact with the energy of the learnings, and then make them their own.  

As I played with the creation of a new podcast, at first I thought the show was meant to be purely grief focused. But as I began to record episodes on the topic, it didn't feel quite right.  Something felt flat, and while grief is never one dimensional (in my experience), focusing solely on it was too limited for what was in flow for this podcast. 

Over the past month, as I let go more fully of my original understanding, The Fountain appeared.  I chuckled to myself when it landed so clearly. Grief, and grief as transformational force in life, is a prominent part of my fountain and it will be part of the podcast flow, but it is just one piece of the whole and there is so much more ready to spill out.

ALL OF ME, ALL OF LIFE, AND ALL OF YOU WANTED TO BE WELCOMED INTO THIS NEW EXPERIENCE. 

As I say in the intro:

"This show is a place where we connect with our multi-dimensionality. With the Life, the living water flowing within us, through mind, body, Spirit, heart, and All. This show is a place where we explore it all, where we tap into wisdom that has surfaced through pain and joy, and the fullness of our journeys. This podcast is a place to come and remember, to sink back into, the living water that flows within you, and to be guided back to your fountain, your fullness, your wholeness."

I am so excited to birth this new space and share it with you. It feels out there in the perfect Ellie way, and aligned with my heart and fullness. I hope it brings you into your heart and fullness instantly as you listen and take it in.

I would love to hear what arises for you as you listen, and anything specific you'd like to hear more about on the show. 

I'd also be immensely grateful it you take a moment to share the show with someone that comes to heart or mind, and rate and review the it on your favorite listening platform!

P.S. This spring I also received the intuitive message that many of us that are meant to share our voices in a new wave of podcasting are feeling the tug on our hearts, or taps on our shoulders. If this is you, may this be encouragement to you to take your next step in the exploration.

The power of surrender when you have nothing left to give: A personal REflection at the 2-year anniversary of my mom’s death

As I prepare to lead More Myself and the Community Circle this week, today I am making space to integrate this weekend's reflective, grief-filled, and also beautiful life-filled moments.  

As we crossed the threshold of 2 years without my mom yesterday, it felt like I transversed so many aspects of myself and all that I am willing to dance with to live fully, freely and in connection with mySelf, others, the Earth, God, and Life. 

Some moments this weekend were filled with laughter and entertainment as we saw a great theatrical rendition of The Hobbit at a local children's theater.  Others were spent silently sobbing or with my eyes closed remembering the last precious day with my mom, and mourning the version of myself that was innocent then around what it would be like to lose her. I remembered all of the things I didn't yet know then or that I wish that I would have done differently. Other moments were filled with hugs, walks in the sunshine and snow, flower deliveries and text messages that reminded me yet again of all of the love and beautiful people that surround me - of all the ways I have let people in and allowed their love to reach my heart in the last few years (and that I have hoped to reach theirs).

I even surprised myself in new ways this weekend, first by buying a last minute single ticket to last night's Maggie Rogers' concert.  I had looked at these tickets on and off for months but somehow it never registered that the concert was on the anniversary of my mom's death.  But when I got an alert on Saturday morning that there were some resale tickets left for her Feral Joy tour, I couldn't stop thinking about joining thousands as we danced to songs that had cradled me through the process of losing my mom and so much more in 2021.

Maggie's music first spoke to me on my birthday in 2020.  I was lying on the floor of my office in our old apartment, doing a 1:1 breath work session, and the facilitator's playlist included her song Falling Water.  I remember tears running down my face as the song started, and I wanted to sing along but felt like I couldn't, like my voice didn't work. Later on that day I listened to that song over and over again, moving to it and letting it move me.  The energy of it felt so freeing and alive, and it quickly became the soundtrack for my healing and blossoming authentic expression, followed by her songs Alaska, Light On, Back in My Body, and more.

On Saturday, the thought of going to the show excited me and gave me the opportunity to anchor even more deeply into the playfulness and joy of being fully alive that I have been sinking into in the last many months.  Through the cloud of thoughts questioning  “Do you really need to go? What if you're not feeling up to it tomorrow? Is this a weird thing to do on a such a sensitive day?", I decided to trust the liberating, powerful, ALIVE energy I could feel deep within. I began to see attending the concert as its own ceremonious moment where the past version of me that felt like her voice didn't work could belt it out, once again letting the music move and heal her.  When I bought the ticket on Saturday, nothing felt more right.

The last many years of my mom’s life, she aimed to feel more joy. Something about the tour name Feral Joy felt like a tribute to her and an ode to letting my spontaneous, adventurous, playful Ellie claim her place.

However on Sunday morning, I was feeling quiet and inward, without many words or desire to be with a lot of people. I just wanted to do my own thing.  After taking it hour-by-hour for most of the day, at 4pm my husband and I attended a yoga workshop at our studio.  As we arrived I felt very little emotional and mental energy in my tank, and was ready to simply lie on my mat to rest if that is what felt best during the class. But as the meditation began, and my body began to warm up, I felt really good to move.  

As we flowed through many mini-series stacked together, I found myself in a deep state of surrender, with willingness to continue as long as my body felt good doing – I was willing to just keep moving from one posture to the next until it didn't feel good anymore.  An hour or so into the workshop, we had one series left and it was 100 degrees in the room (even warmer than it normally is). People groaned in exertion all around the room, taking rests as they needed. I knew I could stop at any moment, but my body felt good moving so that’s what I did and soon I had a powerful realization, which I have thought many times but this time is settled into my cells: I have lived through and survived my deepest fear, and continue to come out the other side liking who I am and consciously cultivating a life I want to keep living. As long as I wasn’t pushing myself in an unhealthy way, the challenge of continuing on brought me gratitude, energy, and joyous exploration of what is possible, in and through my body and being.

Soon we paused for water and I saw myself in a mirror, drenched in sweat but refreshed and invigorated rather than tired.  I felt like I had been reborn in the last hour - I had walked in with nothing left to give and by simply being willing to meet the moment, and surrendering to my capacity and greater wisdom minute-to-minute, I was finishing the class remembering how strong, resilient, and alive I am.  I remembered how much ‘Feral Joy’ is available to me if I continue to show up and meet each moment with openness and heart. 

I left the yoga studio in a completely different state – so grounded in my vibrancy in awe of the process of being stripped down to the core once again, but this time in willingness and curiosity. I quickly became excited about the concert again, and later as I danced and sang to my favorite Maggie lyrics, “I walked off you, and I walked off an old me” and “If devotion is a river, then I'm floating away”, I smiled in delight of all that is available to us in this human existence. Life opens to us when we open to it.

My journey from Broken-open to More Myself

This morning I cried so. many. tears. Through the phone, my dad read me pieces of his journal from the weeks leading up to my mom’s death 2 years ago (almost to the date).  He beautifully recorded things I said, things Mom said, etc.  Then, I sent him photos I have of her from 6 days before she departed.

They are painful to look at, odd yet potent memories, and looking at them now I can see things I couldn't then - I can see she was so much further ‘advanced’ in her process at that point than I remember.   

What we couldn’t see or know then, for our own protection so we could stay hopeful and present, always amazes me.  There are so many deeply private and indescribable pieces of being with someone as they die, and in beginning the journey into a life without them. There is no way to prepare. Those weeks broke me open beyond words and understanding. I have been forever changed and carved by the past 2+ years.

One year ago I still felt like I was drowning in the dark many days - wondering who I was, what life would be - without vision for the future, and it scared the hell out of me.  At the same time I could also feel a very faint call to life that I was willing to keep holding on to as I surrendered to the void of grief.

I didn't know how to talk about it, nothing I could say felt profound enough to match everything I was feeling inside.   

The day before the 1st anniversary date last February, I was sitting in my sister's apartment in silence, taking a moment to reset after a particularly hard few days, and I felt a nudge that said “Stay present to the breaking open.”

I didn't quite understand it but I could feel the importance of once again inviting compassion into the heartbreak that was so palpable in and around me. I could feel the importance of allowing myself to be as I was, painfully blown open by love and loss, without needing to be glued back together again.

Last March, I felt like a baby being born, slowly exiting my grief cocoon with tiny (or not so tiny) steps I could commit to one-by-one; first a trip to Chile to be with our family.  While we were there, I was able to see myself from a new light as I realized that I had more energy and capacity than my fears and inner-protections had allowed me to see.  When we returned from our trip, I felt called to go back to yoga, and from there the next tiny steps unfolded. 

Each month of 2022 built on the previous, guiding me into deeper trust, surrender, and belief that while I would carry and honor my story and my mom very closely forever, through this experience new ways of being and living were available to me. And actually, most felt more alive and true to my being than life before (tangible) loss.

Today I am in awe of this on-going journey as I continue to hold space for the pain,  AND I feel free and open in my expressions of joy, creativity, curiosity, uncertainty and grief.  This is particularly beautiful, as I remember the 30+ years of my life when this wasn’t the case- when I was exhaustingly holding it all in, just trying to manage life and “keep it together”.

There are of course still moments when I feel the inner ‘crunchiness’ (contraction) of my system trying to suppress or numb, but after many years of practice and cultivation, I now know how to work with myself in every moment.  

I openly listen inward for the voice that is crying out in pain, despair, anger, or fear.  I welcome presence into those places because I trust myself with myself. 

I lead myself through the overwhelm and moments that make me want to harden, and follow my breath and pulse to guide me back my soft, open, Ellie Flow state. 

And when I get to parts I don’t know what to do with, I allow them be and invite Divine love to pour into those corners of myself.

I am imperfectly free to feel, and through the feeling the power of my energy-in-motion (emotion) releases.  As it does, space is liberated for a deeper connection with mySelf and Life, for more wholeness that is SO ALIVE I can feel it vibrating in my body, for More of Myself.

I’m so proud of the foundation I have cultivated.  With each day of the past many years, a new brick has been laid, and the More Myself experience was silently being created.  

It is such an honor to stand on solid ground today,  forever still ‘in process,’  and offer this container so that you can be held and guided in your broken-openness as you open to the faint call of life again.  I know there is so much available to you through what you have lived – pieces of yourself to release, and pieces of yourself to welcome in. 

I know that the foundation for your next steps forward, no matter how large or small, can be created with love and gentle intention, making space for all of you, at a pace that is born from your heart and body.

This is a sacred journey, one that probably feels scary (better read: TERRIFYING) to say yes to.  What if on the the other side of this terrifying step there was….

+ Safety to feel yourself and your experience fully.

+ Trust that you can learn to be with all of yourself - your pain, your joy, your dreams, your fears…all of it.

+ So much space and energy liberated in your body and being because you allowed yourself to release what you’ve been holding.

+ Belief that others in your life can meet you in your pain and in your joy.

+ Love and compassion for your past versions of self and who you are today.

+ Liberation in not needing to compartmentalize your life anymore because it can all flow together.

+ Creativity and (re)new(ed) vision (with time).

+ Confidence that you can move at your attuned pace, without pushing or force, and you will be in lock step with your soul.

While I can’t tell you exactly what awaits you (because only through your openness, capacity, and readiness will that be revealed), I believe you will be met, held, and guided exactly where you need to be. I believe you will be invited in to awe of yourSelf and process, and all that is possible.  

You are invited into a path of healing and freedom, and you will be supported and equipped every step of the way.

If you’re ready to say yes to the call into More of  Yourself, join me here.

~ 6 weekly calls starting Tuesday, including intimate guidance and tending, expansive teachings and coaching that will help you cultivate your new foundation for Life

~ $999 pay in full or 2 payments of $511

~ Hit reply for any questions.

Also, I recorded a great Instagram live yesterday with teachings and explorations of two foundational areas we will sink into during the first weeks of the program.  No matter where you find yourself today, I believe it will support and enlighten you in your process. 

You can watch the replay (even if you don't have social media) or listen to it in podcast form here!

finding your attuned pace & creating spaciousness to sink in to acceptance in an embodied way

Yesterday, I recorded an instagram live to explore and teach on the power and cultivation of ‘Attuned Pace’, and how Awareness, Acknowledgment, and Acceptance work together to free up energy in our emotional, physical, and energetic systems.

I loved how it turned out, and it was a perfect peak into the first few weeks of my More Myself Group Program the begins next week.

Listen to the replay podcast style here:

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In the first few weeks of the More Myself Group container, starting 2/21, we will lay the foundations for the program by deeply engaging with the energy and healing available through each of these areas.

Join the journey to embodying more of yourself here.

Allowing Life to break me open (& INTRODUCING THE MORE MYSELF GROUP PROGRAM)

Doors are fully open to my new LIVE Group Program Experience, ‘More Myself’. 

You can dive into the complete exploration of it here. We begin on Tuesday February 21st, and I'm offering $111 off the price through Sunday, 2/12 using the code REBIRTH.

 This program is a 6-week group experience for those that have walked through things they didn’t (consciously) choose, and are willing to honor the pain and grief of this process, while simultaneously opening to all of the ways it has profoundly changed and expanded them.

When life broke me open, everything I knew it to be was shattered.  Not only had I lost my Mom, but huge pieces of who I thought I was felt like they were stripped away with her.  I had already been engaged in deep internal renewal for years leading up to this time, but when she died, things that used to matter didn’t matter at all anymore.  Things I used to like and want in my life no longer felt alive and important at all.

A year later I still felt incredibly lost, alone, and confused- this was a piece of loss no one had ever told me about. Probably because the ‘in between’ of who you used to be and who you are becoming is quite indescribable.

While I'll forever be deeply engaged in the life-long processes of both living with loss and expanding into to my own becoming, I now know that when we allow ourselves to be fully broken open there is tremendous pain and there are astounding gifts.

We don't get to control what breaks us or when it happens, but if we are willing to move through these times in our lives and the remains they leave with an open heart, they can offer us so much.

The transformation and the grief don’t need to compete, they actually go hand-in-hand. 

Together they open a portal full of possibility - seeing, being, and leading through a different lens - one that I believe has the potential to change the world.

If we make the space for our breaking-open to be a conscious process,  it brings deeper connection to ourselves and deeper connection to life as we move through it.

If we tune in and make space, there is so much richness alive in the messiness of it all, included but not limited to vibrant creativity, passion, meaning, full-being gratitude and awe…aliveness.

The More Myself program was created for those that are open and ready to both honor the pain and be awe-struck by the gifts. This program is for those that can feel something within saying, “there is no going back to who I used to be” and who desire to trust and explore the potent medicine of their experience. 

Maybe you’ve lost a loved one.

Maybe you’ve received difficult news or a diagnosis about your health or that of someone important in your life.

Maybe you’re unsure if you’ll be able to have kids.

Maybe a relationship you treasured has concluded.

Maybe a career or dream you poured yourself into has been challenged.

Maybe you did all the ‘right things’ but it doesn’t’ feel like you thought it would and you're not sure how to move forward. 

It doesn't matter what has broken you open, or how long it's been, if you feel called to more of yourself, this is for you.

“HOW IRONIC THAT THE DIFFICULT TIMES WE FEAR MIGHT RUIN US ARE THE VERY ONES THAT CAN BREAK US OPEN AND HELP US BLOSSOM INTO WHO WE WERE MEANT TO BE.”

— Elizabeth Lesser

All the details are here & the More Myself doors are wide open.

Use code REBIRTH for $111 now through Sunday, 2/12.

I am incredibly humbled and honored to create this program, and I can't wait to meet you inside.

Questions about the program or working together? Reach out here.

there is Grief in every Layer of healing

Written originally on August 5th, this is a stream of consciousness writing that came out of me in a moment of deep realization. It is meant to witness, open, and offer compassion to any and all that are moving through the softer, less traumatic moments of a loss and grief yet still feeling the pain. I do still have a powerful relationship and connection to my mom, when I speak of her absence in this writing, I am referencing her physical presence and life.

Today I tapped into the grief of this week. It is a gentle sadness, ever existing with this state of calm and peace I have arrived to as I sink into the expansion this summer has opened me to.
It is a low grade sadness, there but not bubbling to the surface with a vengeance.

I can feel it put it isn’t sharp like it sometimes is.

A few times this week I noticed myself thinking about how I was getting used to daily wife with out Mom alive, and in a lot of ways I’m so grateful to have arrive here - to a place I feel free to look forward with excitement and potential - and this place also comes with a new layer of deep sadness, sadness that I am used to life without her, sadness that starting to dream forward means I’m more ready to imagine a full life without her.

In my journal I wrote about it being like a timeline jump that is both extremely relieving, expansive, and natural, while simultaneously devastating.

I have arrived to the state I wasn’t sure I’d ever arrive to - a state of deeper integration of acceptance that allows space for the new, the possible, hope and excitement. And also there is grief that I have arrived to this moment of peace and acceptance, where every step and dream forward naturally exists without my Mom in it, where I know that every step forward means a step further from the reality when we had her with us.

This is a new kind of heartbreak.

The internal grief clock (a poem for compassionate witnessing)

I wrote this poem in the summer of 2021, a raw 5ish months after my mother’s passing (Feb 19th). This expression explores and puts words to the quiet hardening that often happens as any anniversaries or important dates approach when living with grief and loss.

In my experience, grief can can creep up or come on suddenly, and now almost a year later the way it makes itself present in different than when I wrote this, but my body remains powerfully synched with my internal grief clock.

I have learned, and am still learning every day, to treat my internal grief clock with deep respect, honoring, and sacredness, even when my mind tendency is to want to bypass this process and overcome it.

For me, Grief is a never-ending initiation into softening and surrendering yet again, into opening and listening yet again, into feeling with my whole heart and body, even though protective patterns in of my mind want to keep me from the potential pain.

My hope in sharing this poem and experience is to extend compassionate witnessing and holding to others experiencing deep grief of any kind, as well as space and love to invite the sacredness back in to your process.

Today I grant you an invitation to tap in and listen to your inner grief clock, and remember, there is nothing wrong with you no matter how you feel your grief today.

The Internal Grief Clock

Like clockwork

Even when my brain doesn’t realize it

My body can feel it.

The heaviness comes

The helplessness

The numb, dull, stay-in-bed depression.

This again?! Grief is this you?

I can’t even feel the answer.

Everything feels so dark

I go searching for every other reason I could feel like this, yet again

Disconnected

Hopeless

Stuck

Dead inside.

I see the date on my phone - the 16th, not the 19th

It mustn’t be grief this time, I think

It must be me.

No matter what I do

Here I am again.

The next day passes, and then the next

Glimpses of light and lightness

Moments of feeling alive again, but mostly

I am constantly weighing how to move through the day, what I can muster the energy for.

Until I can’t fight it anymore, and I roll over and stay in bed

Surrendering to the nothingness

To the missing motivation

To the missing desire.

Then I see that date again

The 19th.

I ask again, could this be grief?

At first I shake my head, but then

The tears begin to fall

My voice returns, and I can

Speak my thoughts and fears.

I miss my mom

I talk to her

I call my sister, text my dad

I tell my husband it’s been 5 months.

I ask him if it feels longer or shorter to him and he replies

“Some days it feels closer, and some days it feels further away.”

And he is exactly right.

On the 19th she feels so close, yet so far away all at once.

On the 19th’s and the days leading up

My body remembers first, even when my head can’t connect the dots

And there is nothing to do or change, even when it doesn’t make sense.

Then the 20th comes, and I feel

Half human again

Half alive again

Able to breathe again

Hungry again

Awake again

Able to move again.

And everything still hurts

But it all somehow looks brighter too.

2021: a year of Loss, deep grief, & reckoning (Part 1)

Introductory note: In mid-January 2022, as I was starting to create this website and open space for my work to be shared again, I felt the need and calling to sit down and write my 2021 story. I had no choice but to journey into the deep throws and upheaval of loss and grief in 2021, a process that, for me at the time, demanded pulling back from much of life as I had known it. As I prepared to step forward and share again, something felt missing – so much had changed within me. I had contracted on all levels and then exponentially expanded and taken new form over and over again, and I continue to; it felt weird and disconnecting to share EllieFlow without also sharing the pain and process that opened me to this creation, and the many creations that are to come.

So I sat down to build you a bridge through my words, a bridge that would carry you from who I was when you perhaps last knew me as the founder of Deeply Nourished for Life, to who I am now. As I began to write, the following poured out:

I am opening to 2022 after a year I will never forget. 

I welcomed 2021 with a panic attack on New Year’s Eve. I had never had a panic attack before, but after watching a movie at home with my husband and then heading to bed before midnight, my body began to tremble and my breath shortened. I was brushing my teeth when a cold-to-the-bone feeling washed over me. 

I told my husband I was feeling anxious and he asked, “What changed in the last 10 minutes? We were just laughing at the movie and you were ok.” I felt irritated by the question, partly because it was true – I had been contently watching the movie moments ago, so what had happened? I distracted perhaps, or just…disconnected from myself?

I crawled into bed and the moment I tried to lay down it got worse, feeling frigid and shaking uncontrollably no matter how hard I tried to hold still and get warm. 

Ironically I was simultaneously running the most aligned program I had ever run before, sharing daily videos, meditations, writing prompts and teachings with 14 amazing humans on how to connect with their own authentic energy and selves as we walked into 2021.

During the day, as I prepared, guided, and taught each day through the program, I felt so alive and excited to open to what wanted to be birthed. My passion for exploring the depths of our beingness and holding space to feel into all of it freely poured out of me. And yet here I was that night, sitting on the edge of my bed on New Years Eve at 11pm, unable to even lie down. 

As I clenched my husbands hand, I tapped into one of my favorite teachings of the program, a teaching on creating and understanding safety within ourselves to create a basis for healing and connection. As I tapped in, I knew on a deep level that I was physically safe and spiritually safe, despite my body’s intense physical response. However, on an emotional level a deep fear had overcome me and I didn’t even know where it stemmed from. 

At the time, I chalked it up to fear that I had given my family COVID over Christmas, even though no one was feeling ill and I hadn’t been sick. Now I look back and I believe that my panic was brought on by a soul knowing that my mind at the time couldn’t comprehend. On some level I knew that all was not well as an enormous wave of fear and anticipatory grief crashed through my body. 

In my depths, so much was stirring…

What was happening? What would happen? Was Mom going to be ok? Would we make it to our month-long California getaway in a few weeks like we had planned?

Would I ever find the courage to tell her some of the things that were on my heart, some of the ways I felt pain and desire for more in our relationship?

Would I get to see her have fun and laugh many more times like I dreamed? Would she still be spunky and vibrant in daily life, as I believed she was at her core? Would I get to be her silly daughter again, or convince her to dance with me like I dreamed? Would we ever get to be free together, totally us and totally free of the weight of the cancer again?

As the shaking progressed, I miraculously found a homeopathic remedy (categorized as a remedy for fear of death and dying even though in that moment I believe I was most afraid of my mom’s death, not my own) to help move me out of my panic state that night.  I fell asleep and January began. I continued with my program, but once it ended I felt restless in my being.

I had all of these dreams for my business and yet everything felt so off inside. I had spent years in exploration of who I really was and what I was called here to do, and I KNEW (and that knowing is still there) that there was so much that wanted (and wants) to be shared through me. 

I often became irritated with myself, feeling myself holding back for reasons I couldn’t comprehend. Some days I was able to tap into the river of life and Spirit flowing through me, other days I was unable to move. I felt stuck in a fog of lethargy and depression.

And then more scary little moments started to unfold, as if they had popped out of my worst nightmares. Notes from my mom’s best friend saying how hard it was that my mom didn’t feel well enough to go to Chemo that week. Texts from my sister saying, “Are you planning on coming to Mom and Dad’s anytime soon? I think you should plan to come next week.”

Just like there had been at Christmas time last year, there would be hours where my mom was alive and attentive. She baked cakes from new recipes that intrigued her to take people with new babies or friends that had birthdays. She did Qi-Gong for hours a day, and went for walks in the cold Minnesota winters. And we’d talk on the phone – I can still hear her attentive “hmm mm”s, and “oh yea”s on the other end as I updated her about things in Milwaukee. Or she’d call to ask me to order her some more supplements or to discuss nutrition or fertility resources for one of her homeopathic clients. 

But there were also many moments everyday when she was in pain, when nothing tasted good and it became hard for her to eat and sustain her weight. There were weeks when her chemo side effects caused so much water retention in her belly and legs that finding clothes and shoes that were comfortable was nearly impossible. 

Around January 20th, after a very scary night of pain, my dad took my mom to the hospital where she stayed for a week due to an infection in her abdominal fluid. My sister had been texting me and asking me to pray, and updating me as they called her doctors and made the decision.

Taking her to the hospital terrified us all, especially after 9-months of a world-wide pandemic. But as they treated the infection and as the pain subsided we found hope. If you knew my mom, you know she was a fighter that found purpose and energy for life over and over again, even in the toughest mental and physical times of cancer treatment and life.  My Dad’s voice rings in my ears as I write: “We think if she can just get home to rest, and we can get a lot of good food in her, she can recover from this.”

She returned home, and we were all relieved.  Yet the daunting uncertainty of her recovery loomed over us. We postponed our trip to California, and my sister and I started to rotate being at my parents’ house to support to be with our mom, and support Dad in the care taking.

There were days when she stomached her meds and vitamins and ate full bowls of soup, for which we cheered and celebrated. There were also many days where we all felt hopeless and helpless trying to keep her comfortable, vibrant, and healing. 

She never stopped chiming in with her intelligent thoughts and mental attentiveness. In early February I remember her saying, “Your Dad is hovering again. I hate when he does that!” I am chuckling now remembering her exact position and annoyed expression as she stated this to me. But the truth was it was so hard not to hover – it came from a deep place of love and concern.

The first week I was with her, after she made it clear she hated the hovering, I perched over a table a few feet away from her recliner while I dove into the hardest puzzle we had ever attempted. The puzzle had been sitting on that table since Christmas when we deemed it impossible, but this time I was determined to make her proud and give her something she loved to focus on.

It was hard to know what to say in many moments, really just wanting to be present and connected without wasting the energy she needed to heal, so I’d ask if I should put on music. She would surprisingly say OK. I will never forget those nights, looking over my left shoulder at her as she half slept while I hummed and sang along to my favorite Beautiful Chorus albums simultaneously in search of the next perfect puzzle piece. 

The intimacy and sacredness of her last few weeks of life feel unmatchable. A beingness, a togetherness, a lovingness seemed powerfully present in our family as we journeyed through the hardest days of our lives.

A few weeks in we sat on the couch together. Knowing that she wasn’t getting better she said “I’m so sorry sweetie”. And I replied, “I’m so sorry too, Mom.” Then between sobs, “But when I look at you or think of you, all I feel is love. So much love.” 

Our hands were clasped together and I rested my head against hers. After a few minutes of sweet silence I felt her drifting off, so I asked if she had fallen asleep. She didn’t respond right away, and when she did it came from some connected and peaceful place, “I’m just soaking in the love.” 

So there we sat, soaking each other in. I left a few hours later, and  sobbed the whole 3.5 hour drive home. 

The next day I recalled the moment while speaking with her older sister, my Aunt Mary, and she reflected back to me something like, “That is probably how she has felt for 32 years, just soaking in the love since the day you were born.”

Many of the other most impactful moments from her last weeks of life still feel too sacred and intimate to describe fully in words, like when I gave her a bath that turned into a deeply healing moment of grace and love for us both 6 days before she died.

Or when my sister and I braved a traumatic night trying to keep her comfortable with the help of the hair dryer (she liked feeling the hot air blown on her weak legs) and alternating doses of Morphine and Lorazepam.  That night was also the last night we heard her laugh and say, “Love you, El. Love you, Syl” despite the state of delusion she was in. It was the hardest night of my life to date.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to share them more in writing, but for now words just can’t communicate the depth of pain, love, fear, peace, connection, rage and despair that were all bundled into one moment.

She died on Friday morning, February 19th, 2021 around 9:10am, surrounded by my Dad, my sister and myself. We were only 50 days into 2021 and our world had been turned upside down. 

In ways there were moments of weird relief that followed, and feelings of aliveness I struggled to connect with again months later. Moments where my sensitivity and creativity dial was turned way up and I’d write beautiful poems or channel new business plans.

I even somehow found the energy to do a miraculous packing job before her funeral, fitting enough clothes for her funeral, Shiva, and 3 weeks in California into a carry-on. Two weeks after she died my Dad and I drove from Minnesota to California with his dog to finish out whatever we could of our Airbnb reservation from the family trip we had planned with Mom. We got to the Pacific in 2.5 days and I’m still not sure how we did it.

My sister and husband met us there, and that trip was such a blessing (I now highly recommend a bereavement trip after someone passes at home, if that is a possibility financially and otherwise). In that Oxnard, California Airbnb I could feel my mom everywhere - it felt so right and refreshing to be there, yet heartbreaking she didn’t join us physically. It was also where I collapsed for the first time a few days into the trip, no longer being able to hold it all together.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but it wasn’t until I returned home in late March that the shock began to wear off, and the darkness of grief started to set in.

As I slowed down and tried to return to work and other day-to-day responsibilities, I started to feel like I was living in a dream (some days felt more like a fog).

What had just happened? Who was I now? How was I supposed to pick up life and keep moving after watching my beloved mother wither away as she transitioned out of this world? What was even the point of everything I had witnessed and lived in the past two months if I was just supposed to pick up where I had left off?

It felt like a cruel joke. 

Pieces of me felt like they had died with my Mom. In other ways I felt like I was coming to life more than ever before. Yet it all felt heartbreaking.

Part 2 will be posted soon.