Living with the absence.
Seven days to accompany grief, without deadlines.
Someone is missing. And with the absence something else has almost certainly arrived: the feeling that you're not doing it right — that you should be worse, or better, or that it should have passed by now. Everything you were told (that it's five stages, that it takes a year, that one day you "get over it") isn't true for most people.
This course isn't here to speed up your grief or tell you how to do it. It's here to keep you company while you go through it: to explain what's happening to you — that it comes in waves, that the body pays for it too, that it brings feelings you didn't expect — and to take off the demands you don't deserve. Not so it hurts less by magic, but so you're less alone while it hurts.
The seven days.
- 01 Grief has no right way. No neat stages, no deadline. Grief is love with nowhere to go — not an illness to cure. Putting down the demand to do it "right".
- 02 Grief comes in waves. It doesn't move in a straight line. A bad day after a good one isn't a step back: it's the sea. Learning to float instead of fight.
- 03 What grief does to the body. Exhaustion, fog, broken sleep, a closed stomach. You're not going mad: sorrow is paid in the flesh. Treating yourself like someone recovering.
- 04 The feelings you didn't expect. Anger, relief, guilt, sometimes emptiness. None of them makes you a bad person: they're all forms of the same love looking for somewhere to land.
- 05 What people say. "Be strong," "turn the page," "everything happens for a reason." How to protect yourself from the comforts that press, and from other people's calendars.
- 06 Living on isn't a betrayal. Laughing isn't forgetting. The bond doesn't end: it changes form. You can keep loving someone who's gone, and carry them with you another way.
- 07 A grief that fits inside a life. It isn't gotten over: it's made room for. The pain doesn't shrink — your life grows around it. A grief you can live with.
And an eighth email, a couple of days later: the close — the essentials gathered on a page you can keep, and something honest about when grief calls for real help.
How it works.
By email
One email a day for seven days, plus an eighth to close, two days later. Five minutes each. Each one announces the next.
Free, nothing to sell
There's no pitch inside. I don't offer you anything at the end. The course is the course, whole.
Leaving is one click
Any time. Your email isn't shared with anyone or used for anything but sending you these emails.
What each email is.
Not motivational pills or summaries. Each day is a complete piece, to read with a coffee, with the same shape:
A scene you'll recognize. The "yes, of course" you blurt while your body says otherwise. The extra drink you didn't want. The plan you said yes to just to avoid saying no.
The mechanism, explained. Why it comes out so automatically, where that reflex comes from, why the guilt that arrives after isn't what you think — no jargon.
"Today, one thing." One small, concrete practice each day: a yes to catch, a question to ask yourself, a small no to say, a guilt to hold. By the end of the week you won't have read about boundaries — you'll have started setting them.
What you need.
Paper and a pen — real paper, not your phone — and seven days. Nothing else. No videos to watch, no platform to log into, no homework piling up: one email a day, and what it leaves you thinking.
Start today.
Leave me your email and tomorrow the first day is in your inbox. You'll get one email to confirm — one click — and from there, seven days.
Free. Nothing to sell. Leaving is one click, whenever you want.
Prefer another path? The voice within — seven days to stop being your own worst judge — or The words of the building — seven days on the relationships that hurt.