My Story
When I was 35 my beloved husband Michael died from a fentanyl poisoning overdose due to an unregulated toxic drug supply. It altered everything irrevocably. I found myself dealing with a traumatic loss that affected everything in my mind, body and soul in a world that didn’t understand.
As an Australian immigrant to Canada, surviving this loss in a country without family or much support during the pandemic was especially challenging. I was so very alone. Grief is a universal experience, if you love in this world, you’re going to experience grief.
And yet, when I found myself plunged into the deep chasm of grief after Michael died, I learned that our culture largely isn’t adept at acknowledging, understanding, or talking about grief. And it made my suffering that much worse.
I didn’t have the words and nor did the people around me. And as I searched for the words, many that I came across were platitudes that were invalidating at best, and straight up harmful at worst. It made me feel even more misunderstood at a time when I was completely isolated.
Now a grief advocate, I try to find the words. Much of my writing aims at creating understanding about the reality of grief, stigmatized loss, and how to support grieving people.
If you’ve lost someone, I’m sorry, and I hope this helps you to feel seen. If you’re here because you want to support someone who’s grieving, welcome, they really need you. And I also hope to reduce some of the stigma around substance use related deaths.
With a bonus cancer diagnosis and treatment thrown in the mix to keep me on my toes – as if I didn’t already know how precious life is – I persist. Thriving? Not quite. But despite having fear and anxiety as my constant companions, I remain cautiously optimistic enough to buy tea bags in bulk and endeavour to have a meaningful life.
You can also find me on Substack, Instagram, Bluesky, doing word puzzles, and in your local park, looking at birds.
If you’ve lost someone, I’m sorry, and I hope this helps you to feel seen. If you’re here because you want to support someone who’s grieving, welcome, they really need you.
I’m currently at work on my first book, as well as personal essays and creative nonfiction literary pieces.
My piece “How to Befriend a Crow” was awarded third place in the 2025 CNFC-The Fiddlehead Creative Nonfiction Contest.
“An essay that balances a delicate narrative between grief writing, humour and boundary-building. The author manages a delightfully magical elixir: one that allows the reader to immerse in the world of the piece, engage with it, find its sorrow, but also chuckle at its wits.
How to Befriend a Crow not only is a triumph of a non-fiction essay, but also a field guide to the aftermath of trauma, and how to protect your own sanity in a world that insists on watching your agony. I enjoyed reading this calm, soft, and loving piece. I also learned something meaningful from it.”
This is a space for honest conversations our grief-phobic culture usually prefers to avoid.
After Michael died, I found myself navigating deep grief in a world that didn’t know how to hold it, especially for someone young, grieving a stigmatized loss. I searched for support, for stories, for connection. And when I couldn’t find what I needed, I started creating it.
Through grief advocacy, peer support, and storytelling, I’m building spaces where grief isn’t something to fix or rush, just something to be with.
If you’re a griever new to my words, you could start with these pieces.
And if you’re supporting someone who’s grieving you could begin here.
I am a proud member of the Creative Nonfiction Collective and Moms Stop the Harm. And I volunteer as a peer support group facilitator with Healing Hearts.
