Doing Different Podcast

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The first time Mara heard the knock, it sounded ordinary, like a neighbor asking to borrow a ladder. She was standing in her kitchen, one hand in soapy water, the other wiping a plate that still smelled faintly of garlic. The dog did not bark, which was unusual. The knock came again, firm and patient. She dried her hands on a towel without thinking, walked to the front door, and opened it to two officers. In the second before they spoke, she noticed small things. The curve of a pen clipped to a pocket, the dull shine of a badge, the way their shoulders were squared as if bracing against weather.

She would later remember that she did not feel afraid right away. She felt irritated that she was barefoot, embarrassed about the wet dish towel in her hand. Shock does that sometimes, it offers you trivia when your body cannot handle the truth. “Are you Mara Jensen?” one asked, her name sounding too formal in her own entryway. She nodded. “We’re sorry,” he said, and something in his tone made the word sorry land like a physical object. Heavy. Unavoidable.

There was a pause where she waited for a dog bite report, a missing wallet, a bureaucratic mistake. Then the sentence came, her mother’s voice in her head as if the officers were speaking from far away. “Your brother, Daniel, was found this morning. It appears he died by suicide.”

Mara’s brain snagged on the phrase appears, as if the officers were describing a minor fender bender. Her body did not snag. Her body went cold. She remembers looking down and noticing a small spot of soap bubble clinging to her wrist, perfectly round. She remembers thinking that she should wipe it off and then realizing she had no idea what she was supposed to do next. Invite them in. Call her mother. Scream. Collapse. Ask for details. Ask them to say it again in different words, because these words did not fit inside her world.

She did not know then that she was already carrying another grief, pressed thin and sharp like a folded piece of paper in her pocket. She had been separated for eight months, slowly learning how to divide the life she once called ours into something that could fit on a calendar with alternating weekends. She had practiced explaining the divorce to friends with a calm voice. She had learned how to sign her own name without her wedding ring. She had been trying to tell herself that the end of a marriage was not a failure, just a change.

That morning, the change became something else entirely. It became a layering. Divorce grief underneath. Fresh suicide grief on top. Family shock, guilt, anger, love, confusion, all at once. The kind of grief that does not replace what came before it, it stacks on it. It multiplies the weight.

When grief has layers, it is not one wound healing over time. It is a series of injuries, some reopened by the next loss, some hidden because there is only so much you can feel in a day. It is also, quietly and stubbornly, proof of endurance. If you are reading this with a lump in your throat, if you are carrying the ache of divorce and the devastation of suicide in the same body, you are not alone. This is the work of Doing Different, not doing it perfectly, but doing it bravely, in the only direction that makes sense now. Forward.

What layered grief really feels like

People often imagine grief as a single arc. Something happens. You cry. You heal. You move on. Layered grief does not behave like that. It is more like weather systems that collide. One day you are sad about the marriage that ended, and the next day you are on the floor because a song reminds you of a sibling you will never text again. Sometimes both are happening at the same time, and your mind cannot figure out which pain deserves the tears.

With divorce, there is usually a living person attached to the loss, and that complicates everything. There can be contact, co parenting, shared friends, legal paperwork, and the constant reminder that the life you planned still exists for someone else, just not with you. Grief shows up as longing, regret, anger, relief, shame, hope, and the persistent question, “What did I do wrong?”

With suicide loss, grief often arrives with a different intensity. Many survivors describe it as grief plus trauma, because the death carries a sense of suddenness, unanswered questions, and sometimes disturbing details. It can come with intrusive images, panic, and a nervous system that feels on alert. It often brings shame, secrecy, and isolation because people do not know what to say and survivors do not know what is safe to share.

Layer them together and you can feel like a person made of contradictions. You might be negotiating your divorce settlement one hour and choosing a casket or an urn the next. You might be trying to act normal at work while your phone lights up with legal emails and family group texts. The mismatch between ordinary life and catastrophic grief can make you feel unreal, like your body is in one room and your mind is in another.

Layered grief also tends to mess with time. Divorce grief can stretch, because the loss is both an event and a process. Suicide grief can feel like a singular explosion. Together, they create a kind of emotional whiplash, a shifting between slow ache and sudden collapse.

The hidden losses inside divorce

Divorce is often treated like a problem to solve. Papers. Custody. Money. Moving trucks. But underneath the logistics are many smaller losses that deserve to be named, because unnamed losses do not disappear, they gather.

• The loss of the future you rehearsed. The imagined vacations, anniversaries, retirement plans, and ordinary Tuesdays you assumed would happen.
• The loss of identity. Not just married versus single, but the social role you played in your family system and friend group.
• The loss of shared history. You still remember, but the person who remembers with you is no longer your teammate.
• The loss of safety. Even if the marriage was hard, it was familiar. Familiar can feel like safety to the nervous system.
• The loss of routines. Coffee mugs, side of the bed, the way the house sounded at night.
• The loss of belonging. In laws, traditions, and the ease of being part of something that felt official.

Divorce grief can be especially confusing when you also feel relief. People sometimes use relief as evidence that they should not be grieving. In reality, relief and grief often coexist. You can be relieved that conflict has ended and still mourn what could have been. Allowing both truths makes you more honest, not less loyal.

The particular pain of family suicide

Suicide loss is often described as grief with extra rooms. You walk through sorrow, and behind it there is anger. Behind anger there is guilt. Behind guilt there is fear. Behind fear there is sometimes relief that their suffering is over, and then shame for feeling that relief. You can spend months, even years, walking those rooms.

If you lost a family member to suicide, you might recognize these common experiences:

• Searching for the moment you missed. Reading old texts, replaying conversations, trying to find the point where you could have changed the outcome.
• Shame and secrecy. Wondering how much to tell others, fearing judgment, and sensing discomfort in people who care but do not understand.
• Anger at the person who died. Anger that they left, anger at the mess they left behind, anger that they did not reach for help in the way you wish they had.
• Fear for the rest of the family. Suicide can make everyone feel suddenly fragile, as if the floor is less stable than it used to be.
• Trauma responses. Trouble sleeping, intrusive thoughts, panic, numbness, and feeling detached from daily life.

Many survivors also get hit with the question people ask without realizing the harm: “Did he leave a note?” When there is a note, it rarely answers what survivors need. When there is not, people treat that absence like a mystery to solve. Either way, the survivor is left holding a story that does not end neatly.

When the two collide, grief competes for space

Mara described the weeks after her brother’s death as “living inside competing emergencies.” Her divorce still required decisions, and now her family needed her. Her mother was falling apart, her father was silent, her ex was impatient about scheduling, her child was confused, and Mara’s own body was barely functioning.

Layered grief often creates a feeling that you cannot be fully present anywhere. If you are at a custody exchange, you are thinking about the funeral. If you are at the funeral, you are thinking about the mortgage. Your heart becomes a crowded room.

Some people respond by shutting down one grief to deal with the other. You might go numb about the divorce because the suicide feels bigger. Or you might obsess over divorce details because the suicide is too painful to touch. Both are protective strategies. They are not failures. They are your psyche trying to keep you alive.

The problem is that grief you set aside does not disappear. It waits. It shows up later as irritability, exhaustion, depression, physical pain, or a sudden breakdown when you least expect it.

The myth of “moving on” and the courage to keep going

In layered grief, the phrase move on can sound like a threat. It can feel like a demand to forget what mattered, to become someone who is not haunted by love. A more truthful goal is learning to carry what happened without letting it crush you.

Courage, in this context, is not dramatic. It is often quiet and repetitive, like washing your hair, answering the email, driving to therapy, feeding your child, taking your medication, showing up for the memorial, signing the paperwork. Courage is the decision to keep going when you do not feel inspired, hopeful, or strong.

Doing Different is not about erasing pain. It is about changing the way you relate to it. Instead of treating grief like a problem to solve, you treat it like a relationship to tend. It requires honesty, boundaries, rest, and support.

How layered grief affects your body and brain

Understanding the physiology can reduce shame. When you are dealing with divorce and suicide loss, your nervous system may be in prolonged stress response. Cortisol and adrenaline fluctuate, sleep suffers, appetite changes, and your immune system can weaken. Concentration and memory often decline. You might read the same paragraph five times and still not know what it said.

Traumatic grief can also create hypervigilance, a constant scanning for danger. You might feel unsafe in silence, unsafe when the phone rings, unsafe when someone does not text back fast enough. After suicide loss, many people become intensely worried about other loved ones, interpreting normal mood changes as warning signs.

Divorce adds its own nervous system strain. The uncertainty of finances, housing, parenting schedules, and social fallout can keep the body braced, especially if the relationship involved conflict, manipulation, or emotional neglect.

If any of this sounds familiar, it does not mean you are broken. It means your body is responding to prolonged threat and profound loss.

The questions that haunt, and how to live with them

Layered grief tends to generate relentless questions. Some are logistical, some are spiritual, some are existential. Many do not have answers you can live on, and that is part of the pain.

• From divorce: Was it my fault, did I try hard enough, how did I miss the signs, will I be alone forever, how will this affect the kids.
• From suicide loss: Why did he do it, could I have stopped it, did he know I loved him, what did he feel in the end, how do I live with this.

One of the hardest skills is learning to let questions exist without letting them run your life. This is not the same as giving up. It is accepting that human beings can only know so much about other people’s inner worlds, and that insisting on certainty can keep you trapped.

A helpful reframe is to shift from “Why did this happen?” to “What is true now, and what do I need today?” You can keep a place in your heart for the unanswered questions, while still making choices that support your survival.

How family systems change after suicide, especially during divorce

Families respond to suicide in patterns that are often intensified by pre existing dynamics. If you were already the responsible one, you may become the organizer. If you were the peacekeeper, you may become the emotional translator. If you were the black sheep, you may become even more isolated. These roles can clash with the new roles created by divorce, such as co parent, ex spouse, or single provider.

Common shifts include:

• Overfunctioning. Taking care of everyone else, planning everything, and collapsing later.
• Silence. Nobody mentions the death, emotions are minimized, and grief goes underground.
• Blame. Family members look for a person or event to blame because randomness is too frightening.
• Comparison. “You were closer to him than I was,” “You didn’t visit enough,” “You should be over it by now.”
• Splitting. Family members form alliances, and conflict increases, especially around funeral decisions and inheritance.

If you are navigating divorce at the same time, you might also feel pressure to perform stability, especially if you are afraid your grief will be used against you in custody disputes. This is a heavy and unfair burden. If that is your situation, document your care, seek legal advice, and build a support network that can attest to your stability and your child’s well being.

Permission to grieve in more than one direction

Layered grief often comes with guilt about grieving the “smaller” loss. You might think, my marriage ended but at least he is alive, I have no right to be sad about that when my brother is dead. Or you might think, my family is shattered, I have no energy to care about the divorce.

You can grieve both. Your heart has more than one compartment, even if it feels like it does not. Grief is not a competition. It is a response to love, attachment, expectation, and identity. Divorce is a death of a life. Suicide is a death of a person. Both matter.

Practical ways to survive the first year of layered grief

Grief advice can become too abstract, especially when your life requires real decisions. The following approaches are practical, flexible, and grounded in how people actually survive.

1) Choose a “minimum viable day”

On the hardest days, lower the bar on purpose. Decide what counts as enough for today. Enough might be: shower, eat something with protein, take the kids to school, pay one bill, step outside for five minutes, and go to bed.

This is not avoidance. It is pacing. Layered grief is a marathon with surprise hills. Pacing keeps you alive.

2) Create two lists, urgent and important

Divorce creates urgent tasks. Suicide loss creates important emotional work. When your mind is foggy, lists help reduce panic.

• Urgent: court deadlines, legal documents, immediate family needs, childcare schedules, funeral logistics.
• Important: eating, sleeping, grief support, therapy, movement, time with safe friends, quiet processing.

Try to do one urgent thing and one important thing each day. That balance prevents your life from becoming only paperwork or only emotion.

3) Build a “support triangle”

One person cannot hold all of this. Aim for at least three different support points:

• Emotional support: a friend who can listen without fixing.
• Professional support: therapist, grief counselor, psychiatrist if needed.
• Practical support: someone who can do school pickup, bring food, help with papers, or sit with you during hard appointments.

If you do not have these people, consider a support group for suicide loss survivors, a divorce support group, or a faith community that is trauma informed. Online groups can help, but choose spaces that are moderated and respectful.

4) Stop explaining yourself to unsafe people

Layered grief attracts commentary. Some people will judge the divorce. Some will minimize the suicide. Some will offer simplistic advice. Protect your energy.

You can use simple scripts:

• “I’m not able to talk about details, but I appreciate your care.”
• “I’m taking things one day at a time.”
• “That’s not helpful for me right now.”

Boundaries are not cruelty. They are survival tools.

5) Expect triggers, plan for them

Triggers are not setbacks, they are signals. Anniversaries, court dates, birthdays, holidays, the sound of an ambulance, a particular street, a voicemail notification, all can activate grief.

Plan gentle buffers around known triggers. Take the day off if you can. Schedule therapy. Ask a friend to check in. Have comforting food available. Reduce extra obligations.

6) Use “tiny rituals” to honor both losses

Rituals give grief a container. They also help when your life feels shattered.

• Light a candle for your loved one each week.
• Write a short letter to your former self, the one who believed the marriage would last.
• Walk the same route on hard mornings, letting your body learn a reliable path.
• Keep a small object that reminds you of your sibling, and touch it when you need grounding.

These are not about being dramatic. They are about creating moments where grief is allowed to exist without taking over the whole day.

7) Sleep and food are not optional, even when you cannot taste anything

It is common to lose appetite and sleep. But your brain cannot process trauma without rest and nourishment. If you cannot eat meals, aim for small, repeatable options: yogurt, soup, smoothies, eggs, toast with peanut butter. If sleep is disrupted, talk to a doctor. Short term support can be appropriate. Avoid self medicating with alcohol, which often worsens grief and sleep.

8) Make room for anger without letting it drive

You may feel anger at your ex, at legal systems, at your family, at your loved one who died, at yourself, at the universe. Anger often contains information about values and boundaries. It might be telling you, I deserved better, I needed support, this was unfair, I am scared.

Healthy containers for anger include:

• Journaling without censoring.
• Physical movement like brisk walking, lifting weights, or boxing classes.
• Therapy that allows trauma processing.
• Creative work, music, art, building something with your hands.

Anger becomes dangerous when it turns into self harm, substance misuse, or harm toward others. If you are feeling pulled toward those edges, reach out for professional help immediately.

Talking to children about divorce and suicide, with honesty and care

If you have children, layered grief can feel like parenting in a storm. You want to protect them, but you also want to be truthful. Children sense tension. They notice absence. They deserve age appropriate clarity.

General principles that help:

• Keep explanations simple. “Mom and Dad are not going to be married anymore, but we both love you and will take care of you.”
• Avoid blaming the other parent. Blame creates loyalty conflicts and anxiety.
• For suicide, use clear language. “Uncle Daniel died because his brain was very sick, and he could not see a way to stay alive.” Avoid euphemisms like “went to sleep” which can create fear of sleep.
• Invite questions. Answer what they ask, not what you fear.
• Reassure safety. Explain that many people are helping, doctors, family, adults, and that they are cared for.
• Watch for behavioral grief. Regression, irritability, stomach aches, clinginess, and school issues can be grief signals.

If you are uncertain, child therapists and school counselors can help you find language that fits your family. The goal is not perfect wording. The goal is a home where feelings can be spoken.

When you feel responsible, and what responsibility really means

Divorce often triggers self blame. Suicide loss often triggers retroactive responsibility. Combine them and you might feel like everything that goes wrong is your fault. This is a common grief distortion. The mind tries to regain control by imagining you could have controlled the outcome.

Responsibility is not the same as influence. You may have had influence in your marriage, you may have influence in a loved one’s life. But you were not the only factor. In suicide, it is especially important to understand that suicidal crises are complex, involving mental health, biology, stress, access to means, and perception of belonging and burdensomeness. Love helps, but love alone is not always enough to stop suicidal thinking. That truth is heartbreaking, and it can also be freeing from impossible guilt.

A grounding statement many survivors use is: “I did not cause this, I could not control it, and I cannot change it. I can only respond to what is here now.”

What healing can look like, without betraying the past

Some people fear that if they laugh again, it means they did not love enough. Others fear that if they build a new life after divorce, they are erasing the years that mattered. Healing is not betrayal. Healing is integration.

Integration means the loss becomes part of your story, not the whole story. It means you can carry your brother in your heart without living exclusively in the day he died. It means you can acknowledge the marriage that ended while still building relationships, friendships, routines, and a home that feels safe.

As Mara put it later, “I stopped trying to get back to who I was. I started trying to become who I am now.” That shift is the heart of Doing Different.

Rebuilding identity after two kinds of rupture

Divorce can dissolve a sense of shared identity. Suicide loss can dissolve your sense of the world’s predictability. Together, they can leave you asking: Who am I if my family story changed, and my marriage story changed, and I cannot fix either?

Identity rebuilding does not happen in one epiphany. It happens through small commitments:

• Values. Choose a few values to anchor you, like honesty, kindness, stability, creativity, faith, service.
• Boundaries. Decide what you will not tolerate anymore, in relationships, in family dynamics, in your own self talk.
• Community. Find people who can hold complexity, not just positivity.
• Body care. Move, rest, and feed your body, not as a glow up project, but as a statement of worth.
• Meaning. Meaning does not have to be a grand purpose. It can be as small as, “I will show up for my child,” or “I will tell the truth about mental health.”

Spiritual and existential grief, when the old answers fail

Many people experience a spiritual crisis after suicide, and many also experience it after divorce. Some feel abandoned by God. Some feel angry at religious communities. Some feel numb toward practices that once helped. Others find new depth, a tougher faith that can hold suffering without pretending to explain it.

If you are in this space, it can help to give yourself permission to question without rushing to replace answers. You can explore gentle practices like silent prayer, meditation, reading, attending a supportive community, or simply sitting outside and letting the natural world remind you that life and death coexist.

What matters is not forced certainty. What matters is honest connection, with yourself, with others, with whatever you consider sacred.

Warning signs that you need extra support

Layered grief can become dangerous when it tips into prolonged despair or trauma symptoms that do not ease over time. Seek professional help if you notice:

• Persistent inability to function at work or home for weeks.
• Using alcohol or drugs to numb most days.
• Frequent panic attacks, severe insomnia, or intrusive images that feel unmanageable.
• Suicidal thoughts, or feeling that others would be better off without you.
• Self harm behaviors.

If you are in immediate danger or feel you might harm yourself, contact local emergency services right now. If you are in the United States, you can call or text 988 for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. If you are outside the US, contact your local crisis line or emergency number. You deserve support, and reaching for it is an act of courage.

How to support someone living with layered grief

If you are reading this because you love someone who is surviving divorce and suicide loss, your presence matters more than your words. Many people disappear because they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. Staying is better than perfect language.

Helpful support looks like:

• Specific offers. “I can bring dinner Tuesday or Thursday,” “I can sit with you during the appointment,” “I can take the kids for two hours.”
• Consistency. Check in after the funeral, after the court date, after the first holiday.
• Non judgment. Avoid blaming, theologizing, or trying to make sense of the suicide for them.
• Permission for complexity. Allow them to miss their ex and be angry, to love the person who died and be furious with them.

Things to avoid:

• “Everything happens for a reason.”
• “At least you’re young, you can remarry.”
• “He’s in a better place,” said too quickly, especially if the person is angry or unsure.
• Graphic questions about the death.

Choosing the next right thing, one layer at a time

Months after Daniel’s death, Mara sat in her car in a grocery store parking lot, unable to go inside. She had a list, but her hands shook. She thought about her divorce hearing coming up. She thought about her mother calling every evening just to breathe on the phone. She thought about her child’s school project, a family tree, and the way that assignment suddenly felt cruel.

She did not do anything profound. She called a friend and told the truth. “I’m stuck,” she said. “I’m in the parking lot and I can’t go in.” Her friend did not give a lecture. She said, “Stay on the phone with me. We’ll do it together.” Mara walked into the store with the phone pressed to her ear, buying fruit and cereal and something that resembled dinner. That night, she fed her child. She filled out one form. She went to bed early. It was not inspiring. It was brave.

Layered grief is survived through the next right thing, chosen again and again. It will not always feel like progress. Sometimes it will feel like merely not collapsing. But there is a difference between collapse and rest. Rest is allowed. Rest is wise. The courage to keep going includes the courage to pause.

What “Doing Different” can mean after divorce and suicide loss

Doing Different is not about becoming unbreakable. It is about choosing new patterns where old ones failed you. After layered grief, Doing Different might look like:

• Speaking the truth. Naming suicide without whispering, naming divorce without shame.
• Asking for help sooner. Not waiting until you are in crisis to reach out.
• Building a life with buffers. Fewer obligations, more recovery time, more gentle routines.
• Letting go of performance. Dropping the need to appear fine for everyone else.
• Choosing relationships that are emotionally safe. Friends and partners who can hold grief without trying to manage it.
• Turning pain into care. Supporting mental health awareness, checking on others, or simply being the person who stays when someone else is hurting.

Doing Different can also mean forgiving yourself for what you did not know, for the ways you coped, for the ways you survived. It can mean learning to live without clear closure, which is one of the hardest human tasks.

A note about anniversaries, milestones, and the second wave

Many people are surprised by how grief changes over time. The first few weeks can be a blur, carried by adrenaline and logistics. Later, when attention shifts away from you, grief can surge. Divorce milestones like the finalization date, the first holiday in separate homes, the first time your ex dates someone new, can ignite pain. Suicide milestones like the one month mark, the birthday, the day they died, can hit with sudden force.

Plan for these waves. Give yourself permission to feel them. If you can, mark them intentionally. Take the day off. Visit a meaningful place. Attend a support group. Do something kind for yourself. Grief does not require you to suffer alone.

Hope that is honest

Hope after layered grief is not the bright kind that insists everything will work out. It is the steady kind that says, I can endure today. I can build a life that includes what I lost. I can find moments of peace again. I can be changed and still be whole.

There may come a day when you notice you went an hour without thinking about the divorce, or the death, and instead you noticed the way sunlight fell on the floor. You might feel guilty for that hour. Let it be evidence that your nervous system is healing. Let it be a small return of life.

Closing, and an invitation

If grief has layers in your life, divorce, family suicide, and everything in between, you do not have to compress your story into something easy for others to digest. You can be heartbroken and capable. You can be exhausted and still courageous. You can be angry and still loving. You can be uncertain and still moving forward.

On Doing Different, we believe that survival is not a personality trait, it is a practice. You practice telling the truth. You practice asking for help. You practice eating something. You practice stepping outside. You practice setting boundaries. You practice honoring the people you loved and the life you are still living.

Mara keeps a photo of her brother in a small frame on a bookshelf, beside a new calendar that only has her name at the top. Some days she touches the frame and cries. Some days she does not. She has stopped trying to make her grief linear. She has stopped requiring herself to be okay in order to be worthy of love.

The courage to keep going is not a finish line. It is the next breath, the next step, the next honest moment. If that is all you can do today, it is enough.

Doing Different with Kele Pandolfe Sheppard Ep. 32

https://youtu.be/OBPzIUsL6fE?si=4s9EBqnVdt6Vj1Dn

Doing Different with Julie Plagens Ep. 31

https://youtu.be/hwskPXWMzVY?si=abtgJ7AOtJa-hfcL

Today's guest is sharing her own journey of doing different and explains how God reshaped the way she shows up in relationships, and how that transformation has become a ministry to others.  Her story touches on estrangement from her parents at age 40, forgiveness, emotional  Julie Plagens is a wife, mother, daughter, double-certified teacher, author, illustrator, content creator, and seminary student at Dallas Theological Seminary.  She is the author of three books: Estranged/Marriage Interrupted/Crating Family Memories. Her book "Estranged" is recommended by Focus on the Family's Counseling Department and Family Life Today, among many others, as a trusted resource for families in crisis.  She has been featured on more than 22 podcasts and speaks to MomCo groups and women's conferences.  She has written for "Her View From Home" Christian Parenting.org, and is listed in "Feed Spot's" top Christian Mom Blogs from 2021-2026.  She has also been featured in "Women's World Magazine."Married for 32 years, Julie and her husband are passionate about encouraging forgiveness, reconciliation, and boundaries in marriage.  Julie's Website: www.momremade.com Books can be purchased at: Focusonthefamily.com Amazon Julie's FB Group: Christian Family Living

When the last child leaves home, it often marks the beginning of a new chapter for many parents. This stage of life, commonly referred to as the "empty nest," can evoke a mix of emotions, from sadness and loss to excitement and anticipation for what lies ahead. Reinventing yourself during this transition can be both a challenge and an opportunity to explore new interests, redefine your identity, and expand your horizons. Here is a step-by-step guide to navigating life after the empty nest, helping you embrace this new phase with confidence and joy.

Step 1: Acknowledge and Process Your Feelings

The first step in this journey is to give yourself permission to feel whatever comes up. It’s normal to experience a range of emotions when your children move out. Some parents feel profound sadness and loss, while others might feel relief and excitement, or a mix of both. It’s important to acknowledge these feelings and allow yourself time to adjust to the new dynamics at home.

Engage in activities that promote reflection and healing, such as journaling, meditation, or speaking with a therapist or support group. Recognizing and affirming your feelings is an essential part of moving forward.

Step 2: Redefine Your Relationships

With your children no longer living at home, your relationship with them is bound to change. It’s an ideal time to shift from the day-to-day parenting role to more of a supportive advisor. This transition can also impact your relationship with your spouse or partner, as you'll have more time to spend together. Use this as an opportunity to redefine these relationships.

Schedule regular check-ins with your children, whether through phone calls, texts, or video chats, to stay connected and support their independence. Simultaneously, invest time in your romantic relationship to rediscover each other in this new phase of life.

Step 3: Discover New or Rekindled Interests

An empty nest opens up time that was previously filled with child-related activities. Dive into old hobbies that you might have set aside or explore new interests. Whether it’s art, sports, music, writing, or something else, engaging in hobbies can provide meaningful joy and fulfillment.

Consider enrolling in classes or workshops that interest you. Community colleges and local centers often offer a range of programs that can expand your skills and allow you to meet new people with similar interests.

Step 4: Expand Your Social Circle

With change comes the opportunity to expand your social network. You may find that many of your current friendships were built around your children's activities. Now is a great time to meet new people or connect with old friends who share your current interests and lifestyle.

Join clubs, groups, or online communities that align with your interests. Social interaction can significantly boost your mood and outlook on life.

Step 5: Focus on Personal Growth

This can also be a time of significant personal growth. With more free time, think about what you’ve always wanted to learn or accomplish. Have you considered going back to school, starting a new career, or launching a business? Now might be the perfect time to focus on these goals.

Take courses, attend seminars, and read widely. These activities not only expand your knowledge but also build confidence and open up new opportunities.

Step 6: Travel and Explore

If you’ve longed to travel, the empty nest phase can be an ideal time. With fewer day-to-day responsibilities at home, you can take longer trips and explore new destinations, or make frequent, shorter getaways to places you’ve always wanted to visit.

Travel is a great way to experience new cultures, cuisines, and environments, and can also be an excellent activity to share with your spouse, friends, or even on your own.

Step 7: Volunteer Work

If you find that you have a desire to give back, volunteering is a rewarding way to fill your time and make a significant impact in your community. Look for causes that are meaningful to you, whether it’s working with children, animals, the environment, or within your local community.

Volunteering not only helps others but also enriches your own life, often providing a sense of purpose and community.

Step 8: Physical and Mental Health

Maintaining your physical and mental health is crucial during this transition. Regular physical activity, a balanced diet, and sufficient sleep are fundamental habits that can greatly influence your overall well-being.

Consider joining a gym, taking up yoga or pilates, or simply incorporating regular walks into your daily routine. Staying active is not only beneficial for your body but also for your mind, helping to manage stress and enhance your mood.

Step 9: Plan Your Financial Future

With your children out of the house, it might be a good time to review your financial situation. Work with a financial advisor to discuss your current finances, update your budget, and plan for the future, including retirement.

Investing in your financial health is as significant as investing in your physical and emotional well-being and will support your ambitions and lifestyle in this new chapter of your life.

Wrapping It Up

Embarking on your post-empty nest life can be an exhilarating and revitalizing experience. Each step you take to redefine your identity, build connections, and pursue new passions can lead to profound fulfillment and joy. Embrace this time as an opportunity to grow and enjoy the freedom and possibilities that come with it.

Finding Purpose, Health, and Faith After Giving So Much. 

There comes a season in life when many of us pause and look around, wondering where the years went. For so long, we poured ourselves into others—our children, our families, our work, and the countless responsibilities that filled every waking hour. We gave our energy, our time, our patience, and our love. And while those years were meaningful, they often left little room for ourselves. Then one day, the house grows quiet. The children have grown and moved on to build their own lives. The constant activity fades, and suddenly there is space—space that can feel unfamiliar, even overwhelming. Some people call this the “empty nest,” but it can also be the beginning of a beautiful rediscovery.

Rediscovering the Person You Were Meant to Be

When you spend years giving of yourself, it’s easy to forget that you still have dreams, talents, and abilities waiting to be explored. The truth is, those gifts never disappear—they wait patiently until you have the time and courage to uncover them again. This stage of life offers something precious: the opportunity to rediscover who you are beyond the roles you played for others. Maybe you once loved painting, writing, gardening, cooking, or music. Maybe there is a skill you always wanted to learn but never had the time to pursue. These interests are not small or insignificant. They are part of the unique design placed within you. Discovering hidden talents later in life can be incredibly fulfilling. It reminds you that growth never stops and that purpose has no expiration date. In fact, many people discover their most meaningful passions during the years when life finally slows down enough for them to listen to their own hearts.

Aging Gracefully by Caring for Yourself

As we grow older, caring for our bodies and minds becomes even more important. Aging gracefully is not about chasing youth—it’s about honoring the body and spirit you have been given.Simple daily habits can make a powerful difference in your overall well-being:

• Home remedies and natural care. Many people return to simple remedies passed down through generations—herbal teas, warm baths, nourishing foods, and natural ways of caring for aches and stress.
• Exercise and movement. Gentle movement, such as walking, stretching, or light strength exercises, can lift your mood, increase energy, and help maintain balance and flexibility.
• Rest and restoration. Rest is not laziness; it is necessary for healing and renewal. Allowing your body the sleep and quiet time it needs helps restore both physical and emotional health.

These small acts of care are reminders that you deserve the same kindness you have shown to others for so many years.

When Mark retired from his long-standing career as a journalist at the age of 52, he found himself at a crossroads, searching for a new purpose that could be as fulfilling as his previous career. With decades of experience in storytelling, he still had a burning passion to share his insights and wisdom with the world, but how? That's when his daughter suggested podcasting. A little hesitant and not entirely tech-savvy, Mark dismissed the idea at first. But with persistent encouragement, he started his own podcast, "Second Winds," where he interviewed other professionals who changed their careers after 50. What started as a hobby soon blossomed into a popular platform connecting thousands of listeners each week, proving that your voice doesn't fade with age.

Podcasting has revolutionized the way we consume media, combining the rich tradition of oral storytelling with the dynamic growth of digital technology. It offers a unique platform for sharing knowledge, stories, and insights, making it an ideal venture for individuals over 50 ready to share their wealth of experience and wisdom. Podcasting post-50 is not just about joining a modern trend; it's a powerful means of expression and connection, crossing generational divides and erasing boundaries.

A closer look at the benefits of podcasting after 50 reveals a myriad of opportunities. For many, the post-retirement years can provoke feelings of irrelevance or a loss of identity, commonly felt after leaving a lifelong career. Podcasting can serve as a new chapter, enabling seniors to reframe their professional skills and personal passions into a new, shared experience. This is particularly empowering in a digital age where the voices of older adults are significantly underrepresented.

The Practical Benefits of Podcasting after 50:

• Sharing Expertise: By the age of 50, most people have accumulated a treasure trove of knowledge and experiences. A podcast provides a platform to share this expertise on any topic, from cooking to finance, and everything in between.
• Learning New Skills: The process of planning, recording, editing, and promoting a podcast allows individuals to learn numerous new technical and marketing skills.
• Building Community: Podcasts often create communities of listeners and interactors, offering a sense of belonging and participation which can be highly gratifying and can combat loneliness.
• Generating Income: While not everyone sets out to make a fortune from their podcast, it is possible to generate a supplementary income through sponsorships, advertising, and listener donations.

Beyond these practical benefits, the psychological and emotional perks are just as significant. Engaging creatively in producing a podcast can greatly enhance one’s mental health. It provides a fulfilling project that requires focus and creativity, helping to keep the brain active and engaged. Moreover, it can boost one's self-esteem as you realize the impact of your contributions through listener feedback and interaction.

Getting Started with Podcasting

Beginning a podcast might seem daunting at first, but breaking the process down into manageable steps can make it approachable, even for the tech-novice. The key to launching a successful podcast lies in its planning, and the initial step is to choose a topic. This topic should not only interest you but should also appeal to a potential audience. Following this, creating a content plan, which includes a list of topics or themes for early episodes, can pave the way for a steady stream of content.

Next, investing in some basic equipment is essential. A good quality microphone, headphones, and a reliable computer are fundamental. Additionally, familiarizing yourself with simple recording and editing software can enhance the quality of the output. There are numerous free and paid tools available that are user-friendly and designed for beginners.

Finally, promoting the podcast through social media, community newsletters, or through word of mouth within existing clubs or groups can help in attracting listeners. Engaging with these communities not only increases the podcast's reach but also encourages feedback, which is vital for improvement and growth.

As our world becomes increasingly digital, embracing technology to share your story and wisdom can be both empowering and impactful, particularly for those over 50. Through podcasting, not only can seniors actively participate in modern communication landscapes, but they can also provide fresh perspectives shaped by years of experience. Podcasting is more than just a medium; it's a growing community eager for diverse voices, including those seasoned by life itself.

Mark's journey in podcasting is just one inspiring example of the potential that lies within this digital platform. Since starting his podcast, he has been able to connect with listeners worldwide, receive impacting stories from others inspired by his guests, and create a fulfilling post-retirement life that continues to enrich his world profoundly. This goes to show, there is no 'right age' to start something new, such as podcasting, which offers such a beautiful opportunity to keep learning, sharing, and growing.

 Growing Wiser Through Pain Reflections on Betrayal, Resilience, and Emotional Maturity Trust is a precious gift—a fragile, glowing ember that we carry with us through life, hoping it will warm us, light our path, and bring us closer to others. We are taught as children that maturity brings wisdom, and with wisdom, the ability to discern friend from foe. Yet, even as years gather on our shoulders and experiences deepen our understanding, the art of trusting wisely is one we are forever learning. 

Age does not make us immune to deception; sometimes, it only leaves us more vulnerable, hoping for sincerity in a world that does not always deliver it. As I journeyed through life, I believed that the cruelty of bullying and the sting of backstabbing would fade into the past, relics of a high school era best left behind. I thought that adulthood would bring with it circles of genuine friendship, honesty, and mutual respect. However, life has a way of humbling even the most hopeful among us. 

Recently, I placed my trust in someone whom I believed to be a true friend—someone who seemed to understand the tapestry of hardships that made me who I am. I confided in them, entrusting delicate secrets and wounds to their keeping. But hearts and intentions are not always as they seem. In a devastating twist, this person took what I had shared in confidence and wielded it against me, using my vulnerability as a tool to undermine me and usurp my position. The betrayal stung not only for the loss of trust, but for the realization that emotional treachery does not obey the boundaries of age. I am no longer a high school girl, and yet the games people play persist, cloaked now in the subtleties and complexities of adult life. 

This experience has forced me to reckon with my own growth. Doing differently, for me, has meant learning to mature emotionally, to strengthen my core while remaining open enough to love and trust. It is a difficult balance. My past is marked by hardship—trials and tribulations that have tested my faith and resolve. This person, knowing my history and my vulnerability, chose to exploit it. She did not merely betray my trust; she consumed my fears, amplifying them, and then discarded me when I was most exposed. 

Looking back, I realize that intuition is often our truest protector. Friends warned me. My own instincts sounded quiet alarms. But the desire for connection, for believing in the goodness of others, can drown out that inner voice. Now, with the blessing of hindsight, I see the importance of listening to both our trusted circle and to the wisdom that whispers from within. It is easy to become hardened, to allow betrayal to build walls so thick that no one can penetrate them. But I refuse to let bitterness take root. Instead, I choose to let this pain refine me. I am reminded that not everyone who smiles in your presence is a friend; some wear sweetness as a mask for their own ambitions.

 The lesson is clear: be careful whom you trust. Recognize that even with age and experience, the potential for deception lingers. Guard your heart, but do not close it. And, above all, I hold onto hope. I know that when one door closes, another will open. Life's disappointments are not the end of the story, and faith in God remains my steady hand to guide me through darkness. God is watching over me, and though I have been wounded, I am not defeated. I will rise from this, wiser and more resilient, carrying forward the lessons etched by pain into the heart of my experience. May this be a reminder to all: Trust thoughtfully. Listen to your instincts. And when you are betrayed, let it be the catalyst for deeper wisdom, greater compassion for yourself, and renewed courage to keep moving forward.

Doing Different with Kimmie Podcast

This podcast is my own personal project and not affiliated with Modern Prairie

Pocketcast: https://pca.st/5c9rmqlt

https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/96efd6c1-92f7-4850-b69b-2f9eaffecfac/doing-different-with-kimmie

https://youtu.be/2L3lxyjjaHw?feature=shared

https://open.spotify.com/show/4FmLZOSaayQ3vwnIz8DI2P?si=12922712c95f4f25

Though my early life was shaped by struggles of language, heritage, and familial turmoil, a profound shift came when I was 10 years old. It was 1975, and the hippie movement was in full swing, a wave of cultural change that brought with it unexpected revelations. My oldest sister, who became a guiding light in the family, found Christ as her Savior during this time. Her discovery was not just a personal transformation but a catalyst for our family, one that introduced us to a new way of faith. Converting from Catholicism to Born Again Christianity was no easy journey, especially for my mother, whose roots in the Catholic Church ran deep. Both sides of my parents' lineage traced their devotion to Catholicism back to the 1700s, steeped in rituals, traditions, and a profound reverence for the Church. To question these beliefs, let alone abandon them, was considered blasphemy. Yet, my sister's conviction and the truths revealed through archaeological findings of biblical scrolls reopened doors we hadn’t even known existed within our faith. With this newfound perspective came a transformation within our household. The drinking, partying, smoking, and fights ceased. While not all disagreements disappeared, the violence that had been a constant shadow lifted. It felt surreal, like peering into the lives of another family entirely. The stark contrast between our old selves and this new chapter was undeniable. As for me, my baptism in the Catholic Church and my Holy Communion were milestones of my childhood, but they were now overshadowed by a deeper, more intentional decision. I, along with my family, chose to be baptized again, this time as a symbol of adult commitment—a choice to die to our sins and rise with Christ in His resurrection. Communion, too, took on a new meaning. We no longer confined it to church rituals; instead, we embraced it in simplicity, sometimes with crackers and juice on Sundays, or even in the intimate settings of our home, replicating the actions of Jesus with His disciples during the Last Supper. This spiritual awakening didn’t erase the challenges of my journey but added another layer to my identity. It offered a guiding light that illuminated paths of healing and resilience, shaping me into someone who could transform adversity into strength. Through faith, I found another facet of who I was becoming—a person capable of embracing both the scars and the triumphs of life. On the other hand, school was getting worse. The bullying was extreme to the point that I almost lost my life because of it. I begged my parents to enroll me in a Christian school. And, after what felt like endless pleading, my parents finally relented. I was enrolled in a Christian school, a sanctuary that promised not only spiritual nourishment but also the hope of escaping the torment that had nearly consumed me. The shift was profound. The new environment, steeped in faith and kindness, so I thought, provided me with a sense of safety I had never known before. The bullying did diminish to some degree, but not enough. With each taunt from my peers the echoes of those dark days lingered in my mind. I approached new friendships with caution, my trust fragile. Through scripture lessons, group prayers, and moments of collective worship, I found solace in faith and began to understand the presence of hope even amidst life's trials. This chapter marked the beginnings of a personal renaissance. While not all wounds healed overnight, I started to see that resilience wasn’t about denying the pain but about finding meaning in it. My identity—woven with threads of adversity and spiritual awakening—started to become clearer. I was no longer defined by what I had endured but by how I chose to rise above it. In 10th grade, I transferred to a different Christian school, one that was significantly better than the previous one. To my surprise, a boy began to show interest in me. It was almost unbelievable, considering my past experiences—being bullied, not just by girls but by boys as well. The words they hurled at me stung far more than any physical pain. The saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” turned out to be a cruel falsehood. Even now, those names resurface during moments of emotional triggers, stirring up a defensive reaction I sometimes struggle to control. But this boy—he was different. His kindness broke through my guarded exterior, and before I knew it, I allowed myself to be vulnerable, not to sex, something more fragile, my heart. He turned 19 and I 16 just a few months before our wedding.  My parents were initially against the idea, but over time, they came to accept it. They were, after all, more concerned about the possibility of me marrying someone who didn't share our Christian faith and to them that was more concerning than letting me marry at such a young age. After all my mom was 17 when she married my dad. Finally, with their consent, they signed the papers allowing me to marry the love of my life. How deceived I was!  Now I was beginning the new chapter of my life being a child bride.

Finding Me!
A Journey of Identity and Resilience

Born into a pure-blooded French family, my arrival was far from celebrated. I was the mistake, the last one born into a lineage rich in heritage yet laden with its own struggles. My father, a WWII disabled Navy veteran, bore the scars of service, while my mother relinquished her dreams of a music career to marry him. Together, they raised me in a small Catholic French town in southern Maine—a sheltered environment steeped in our heritage.

Behind the familiarity of Biddeford, is where the French community thrived. South Portland was a world apart, populated by people who were not French, and it was here that I faced my first battle for identity. Speaking only French, I was thrust into an English-speaking world when I started school. The language barrier was isolating, but the discrimination was worse. I quickly became the target of relentless bullying, an experience that instilled in me a deep shame for my ethnicity. In an act of defiance-or—or perhaps survival—I vowed never to speak French again. The vow was so successful that I lost my fluency, though the ability to understand it lingered like a distant echo of a forgotten melody.

Language, however, was just one facet of the challenges I faced. Home was no sanctuary. I grew up in an environment shadowed by alcoholism and toxicity, a place where love was conditional and stability elusive. Panic attacks became a part of my daily existence, as did a gnawing fear of abandonment. I carried the weight of self-hate, a burden that was only compounded by my struggles with a learning disability and the fact that I never owned a book until adulthood. Words, whether in French or English, seemed to conspire against me, further isolating me from a world I longed to understand.

Yet, amidst the hardship, there was an undercurrent of resilience. The adversity I faced shaped me, not as a victim, but as someone who refused to be defined solely by struggle. My rejection of my language and heritage was not just an act of shame but also one of adaptation, a way to carve out a place for myself in an unwelcoming world. The path was far from linear, marred by setbacks and moments of despair, but it was mine.

This journey has left its indelible marks—both scars and strengths. While I may have lost the ability to speak French fluently, I gained an acute understanding of the complexities of identity and the courage it takes to rebuild oneself from the fragments. My story is not one of mere survival but of transformation, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Today, I carry my past not as a weight but as a map, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of where I come from and where I am capable of going.

When the last child leaves home, it often marks the beginning of a new chapter for many parents. This stage of life, commonly referred to as the "empty nest," can evoke a mix of emotions, from sadness and loss to excitement and anticipation for what lies ahead. Reinventing yourself during this transition can be both a challenge and an opportunity to explore new interests, redefine your identity, and expand your horizons. Here is a step-by-step guide to navigating life after the empty nest, helping you embrace this new phase with confidence and joy.

Step 1: Acknowledge and Process Your Feelings

The first step in this journey is to give yourself permission to feel whatever comes up. It’s normal to experience a range of emotions when your children move out. Some parents feel profound sadness and loss, while others might feel relief and excitement, or a mix of both. It’s important to acknowledge these feelings and allow yourself time to adjust to the new dynamics at home.

Engage in activities that promote reflection and healing, such as journaling, meditation, or speaking with a therapist or support group. Recognizing and affirming your feelings is an essential part of moving forward.

Step 2: Redefine Your Relationships

With your children no longer living at home, your relationship with them is bound to change. It’s an ideal time to shift from the day-to-day parenting role to more of a supportive advisor. This transition can also impact your relationship with your spouse or partner, as you'll have more time to spend together. Use this as an opportunity to redefine these relationships.

Schedule regular check-ins with your children, whether through phone calls, texts, or video chats, to stay connected and support their independence. Simultaneously, invest time in your romantic relationship to rediscover each other in this new phase of life.

Step 3: Discover New or Rekindled Interests

An empty nest opens up time that was previously filled with child-related activities. Dive into old hobbies that you might have set aside or explore new interests. Whether it’s art, sports, music, writing, or something else, engaging in hobbies can provide meaningful joy and fulfillment.

Consider enrolling in classes or workshops that interest you. Community colleges and local centers often offer a range of programs that can expand your skills and allow you to meet new people with similar interests.

Step 4: Expand Your Social Circle

With change comes the opportunity to expand your social network. You may find that many of your current friendships were built around your children's activities. Now is a great time to meet new people or connect with old friends who share your current interests and lifestyle.

Join clubs, groups, or online communities that align with your interests. Social interaction can significantly boost your mood and outlook on life.

Step 5: Focus on Personal Growth

This can also be a time of significant personal growth. With more free time, think about what you’ve always wanted to learn or accomplish. Have you considered going back to school, starting a new career, or launching a business? Now might be the perfect time to focus on these goals.

Take courses, attend seminars, and read widely. These activities not only expand your knowledge but also build confidence and open up new opportunities.

Step 6: Travel and Explore

If you’ve longed to travel, the empty nest phase can be an ideal time. With fewer day-to-day responsibilities at home, you can take longer trips and explore new destinations, or make frequent, shorter getaways to places you’ve always wanted to visit.

Travel is a great way to experience new cultures, cuisines, and environments, and can also be an excellent activity to share with your spouse, friends, or even on your own.

Step 7: Volunteer Work

If you find that you have a desire to give back, volunteering is a rewarding way to fill your time and make a significant impact in your community. Look for causes that are meaningful to you, whether it’s working with children, animals, the environment, or within your local community.

Volunteering not only helps others but also enriches your own life, often providing a sense of purpose and community.

Step 8: Physical and Mental Health

Maintaining your physical and mental health is crucial during this transition. Regular physical activity, a balanced diet, and sufficient sleep are fundamental habits that can greatly influence your overall well-being.

Consider joining a gym, taking up yoga or pilates, or simply incorporating regular walks into your daily routine. Staying active is not only beneficial for your body but also for your mind, helping to manage stress and enhance your mood.

Step 9: Plan Your Financial Future

With your children out of the house, it might be a good time to review your financial situation. Work with a financial advisor to discuss your current finances, update your budget, and plan for the future, including retirement.

Investing in your financial health is as significant as investing in your physical and emotional well-being and will support your ambitions and lifestyle in this new chapter of your life.

Wrapping It Up

Embarking on your post-empty nest life can be an exhilarating and revitalizing experience. Each step you take to redefine your identity, build connections, and pursue new passions can lead to profound fulfillment and joy. Embrace this time as an opportunity to grow and enjoy the freedom and possibilities that come with it.