Dear Beautiful Ones,

I’ve gone back and forth about writing this.

This space — my newsletter, my work, my online presence — has always been a place of connection, healing, reflection, and possibility. It’s not where I share political opinions or engage in outrage. And yet, it feels disingenuous not to acknowledge what so many of us are quietly carrying right now.

There is a lot happening in our world — and especially in our country — that feels unsettling, heartbreaking, and deeply confusing. Many of us are living under a constant hum of stress, uncertainty, division, fear, and grief. Add to that the recent exposures of abuse, exploitation, and betrayal of trust — particularly toward women and young girls — and it can feel unbearable at times.

I want you to know this first and foremost: If you feel shaken, distracted, emotional, or angry, please know this isn’t a sign that something is wrong with you. It’s a sign that you are aware, compassionate, and awake.

Lately, I’ve noticed there are moments (like today) when I just want to cry — not because I’m falling apart, but because my heart feels full of grief and helplessness. There are things happening in the world that I cannot fix, protect, or make sense of, and that can feel incredibly heavy. If you’ve felt that too, please know you’re not alone in it.

So the question I’ve been sitting with is this:
How do we stay human, compassionate, grounded, and connected in times like these?

Here are a few gentle reflections I offer — not as answers, but as anchors.

1. We acknowledge the impact — without drowning in it.
Pretending nothing is happening doesn’t protect us. But neither does consuming every headline or detail. Awareness matters — and so do boundaries. It’s okay to say, “I know enough for today.”

2. We tend to our nervous systems.
When the world feels chaotic, the body feels it first. Slower mornings, fewer inputs, time in nature, breath, movement, touch, rest. These are not luxuries — they are regulation. A regulated nervous system is a radical act right now.

3. We allow grief — especially the quiet kind.
Grief isn’t only about personal loss. Many of us are grieving the loss of innocence, trust, safety, and the world we thought we understood. Letting that grief move — through tears, prayer, writing, conversation, — it is part of staying open-hearted rather than hardened.

4. We choose compassion over numbness.
It can be tempting to shut down or turn away because feeling hurts. But compassion — for ourselves and others — keeps us human. Even when we don’t have solutions, presence is powerful.

5. We lean into connection and safe sisterhood.
Isolation amplifies fear. Connection soothes it. This is why women gathering, sharing, listening, and witnessing one another matters more than ever. We heal in circles, not silos.

6. We remember where our power lives.
Our power isn’t in outrage or arguments. It lives in how we show up — in our integrity, our choices, our care for one another, and the way we create small pockets of safety and love in our own corners of the world.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t think any of us do. But I do believe this:
Staying grounded, compassionate, and connected is an act of resistance — and an act of love.

If you’re feeling tender right now, please be gentle with yourself. Stay close to what nourishes you. Reach out when you need support. And remember — you are not alone in this.

The only thing more powerful than hate is LOVE ❤️

With so much love and compassion,
Cheryl