My Life Doesn’t Make Sense

reflections on parenting, grief, and the messy experiences that deepen the mind and heart

For many years now, I’ve oriented my inner life around meaning rather than happiness. The deeper questions of whether my life feels aligned with my values, my integrity, and the person I am becoming over time. That orientation has shaped my coaching work, my writing, and the way I make decisions when things feel uncertain or unresolved. It has also been the quiet backbone of this newsletter, even when I haven’t explicitly named it. It has a name: eudaimonia.

But recently, especially in the wake of this most recent grief with Pita, I’ve been sitting with the sense that meaning alone doesn’t quite hold everything. Grief has a way of doing that. It doesn’t arrive asking whether your life is aligned or purposeful, and it certainly doesn’t care if something makes sense or fits neatly into a coherent story. It interrupts, rearranges, and collapses the structures you thought were steady. In doing so, it exposes the limits of the compass you’ve been using to orient yourself. When one grief is allowed to open and flood the system, layers upon layers of suppressed grief often follow. And…. well….they have.