I set myself up with my smart phone, laptop and a cup of tea. When the phone rings, I hit “speaker” and poise my hands
Author: Celenia Delsol
I write, I coach, and I speak publicly about "A New Normal: Living & Loving Your Life After Loss." This was not by design. This was after experiencing the loss of my son to suicide in 2010, a cancer diagnosis in 2016, my mother's cancer diagnosis in 2017, my sister's ALS diagnosis in the same year. Loss and more loss and more loss. You'd think I would have curled up into a ball or hidden in a cave. And yes, that was appealing for a while with each new calamity. But I am a survivor. Many of us are. I write because it helped me make sense of the absurdity of life, and I share my writing because people let me know that it speaks to them. I write with others because the interaction feeds my mind and heart. I coach others because I have something of value to offer those who are on their own journey of grief and healing. I speak to inspire others to carry on when life has not been kind. There is no going back to normal when tragedy strikes. There is only moving forward. Into A NEW NORMAL.
Folding Fitted Sheets
We’re friends now. Friends without benefits. At least, not that kind. We are movie buddies. She sometimes cooks; I clean up afterwards. We pet-sit each
Notes To Self
Breathe. Breathe again. Keep breathing. Keep coming back to the breath, to the awareness, to the mindfulness and consciousness. Breathe to blow away the reactivity
Eclipse
It was a good day. The country united in awe, Remembering how insignificant we are in the Universal scheme of things. A rare event,
Exposure
The light of day, fresh air, a witness – this is what depression requires if it is to be quelled. It cannot be hidden
Fades To Black
Author’s Note: A wise person once said, “If it doesn’t hurt, it wasn’t love.” At first I thought you lied. Betrayal! And then I
Truth
The truth has fallen prey to narcissism and ego. Once it was a beacon, bright, proud and forever. Now “alternate facts” place truth in a
What Is My “Why?”
What is my “Why?” In other words, why do I bother to bare my soul in these blog posts? What does it matter? Who cares?
Drowning Islands
I enter “Marshall Islands” into the Google Maps search function. At first, the islands look like a little bracelet made of long bones floating in
Discombobulation
It’s in the air. A feeling of things not proceeding the way they’re supposed to, of no longer being able to expect what we used
I Remember You
I don’t remember what your favorite color was. I don’t know that I ever knew. But I do remember the day we shared raspberry popsicles that
‘Tis The Season
I’ve come to call it “The Season.” Late spring. Almost everything has bloomed here in Northern California by now, and Mt. Diablo – when we’re
