Welcome to Advice from Koral and Lou, where I share my field notes from ✨ Dog Land ✨ and strive to become more like them.

Koral is an expert in “giving it a rest” and actually prefers to do so all day, every day. According to Koral, this so-called “rest” (never heard of it, but I’m learning) is great for your mental and physical health! Taking time to focus on decompressing and fueling your body can actually lead to better productivity - woah.

After 7 years of studying Koral’s rest patterns, I’ve compiled a list of habits Koral seems to believe are peak restfulness.

• Naps- Ideally frequent, and with a cozy pillow.

• Scritches- Loving physical touch from someone who cares about you goes a long way.

• Chewies- A relaxing hobby to occupy your mind and body can really slow down those racing thoughts.

• Walkies- Time in nature calms the soul. Don’t forget to stop and smell the roses!

Although it may seem like a foreign concept, I can confirm that consistent rest has proven to be a significant factor in Koral’s well-being. I, for one, plan on giving it a go this week.

Not gonna lie, girl is a WEIRDO, and she don’t give a rat’s toot. Lou seems to believe that embracing your inner nerd is where it’s at. Throughout my research, I’ve taken note that Lou’s quirks and oddities are some of my favorite things about her.

Letting people see your weird is letting people see the real you. And Lou thinks the real you is pretty frickin sweet. I’ve learned from Lou that being anyone but exactly who you are is exhausting and a disservice to yourself and those around you. Here’s why:

• Keeping up that facade isn’t sustainable; don’t waste your time.

• You attract the energy you put out. You don’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of boring, normal bum bums! Letting your weird flag fly will serve as a beacon for your type of people. Let them flock!

• Not being who you are means letting everyone miss out on the only you there is out there. Lou is one of one, and so are you. How lucky and wild is that?? To be the only one of you. Don’t miss out on it.

I’m sure Lou has plenty of other reasons why being yourself is the best. But frankly, her attention span is way too short to share any more with me right now.

I have a feeling there is still much to learn and plan to continue my deep dive. If you’ve learned a valuable lesson from your pup (or cat, or gecko, or chicken), I’d love to hear about it. In the meantime, the fieldwork continues!

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Substack: girloverboard.substack.com - written bonus content released weekly!

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Substack: girloverboard.substack.com - written bonus content released weekly!

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

A few minutes later, you’re walking around the park together. You’ve totally recovered from your embarrassing fall, and you’re definitely charming his pants off. Your dog decides it’s time to shit. No biggie, dog’s shit. Who cares? Ope. Wait. Looks like your dog accidentally somehow ate one of your hairs and now she has a turd dangling from one of your hairs, halfway in and halfway out of her butthole. Oh. My gosh. It’s like a car crash that neither of you can look away from as your dog waddles around helplessly. You turn to your date and say, verbatim,

“I’m so sorry, but I’m for sure gonna have to pull that turd out of my dog’s butt right now.” You proceed to bag your hand, squat down behind your dog, and yank a turd dangling from a hair out of her butthole.

Oof. Okay, that one is gonna be a little harder to recover from. But still possible! You continue your walk around the park; conversation flows, you banter, you laugh, you both manage to step in dog poop…nice.

An hour later, you resort to chatting in your car to escape the frigid January wind. Your date mentions he’s renovating a property about a fifteen-minute drive away that he’d love to show you (don’t worry, I’m not about to get murdered; this man was very safe). This sounds cool! The only problem is that you realized about thirty minutes ago you need to pee. And now you really need to pee.

No biggie! People pee all the time. I mean, it’s kind of essential. Except for that your brain has decided to completely shut down any neural pathways to any semblance of logic. Gooooood. Good, good, good, good. You have decided that having to pee is probably the most embarrassing thing anyone has ever had to do, and your date definitely cannot find out.

Lucky for you, you’re super smart and come up with a bulletproof plan. You tell him, “That sounds great! My car is running low on gas, so I’ll stop and fill up first and then meet you there.” Frickin nailed it. You can stop at a gas station to pee, meet him at the property, and he’ll be none the wiser.

He glances over to the driver’s side of the car, “Really? You have over half a tank of gas…” Lovely.

“Oh no- yeah- uh-, I just like to keep full,” You blabber. “But you’re so right, I’ll just follow behind you and meet you there!” You are so screwed.

He hops in his car, and you start following him to the property. This fifteen-minute trip may as well be a trip to the moon. You feel like you’ve been driving for years, and if you don’t get to a bathroom Right. Now. You are going to explode. You start looking around your car for a bottle to pee in. A BOTTLE to pee in. GIRL. YOU CANNOT AIM. You consider pulling off to the side of the road to find a bush, and hope that he’ll just keep on driving.

As you continue to weigh your options, your date pulls into a driveway. By the grace of God alone, you have made it. Embarrassment has left the station as you sprint from your car to the front door. Huffing and puffing and probably sweating, you tell him, “I need a bathroom right now.” He’s equally confused and concerned, but he unlocks the door as quickly as possible. Before he can even tell you where it’s at, you burst inside to find the bathroom yourself. Of course, the cherry on top. The bathroom has a sliding door with a solid gap between it and the floor. Welp, too bad. This will be what this will be. You empty your bladder knowing full well he can hear what you’re sure sounds like a fire hose from right outside. Cool, cool, cool.

After a quick tour of the property, you say your goodbyes, you tuck your tail, and head home. You are, of course, convinced at this point that you will never see or hear from this poor man ever again. Bless him.

Three hours later, you receive a text, “Hey, so my friend is having a birthday party tomorrow night, and I’d love it if you’d wanna come with me?”

Turns out he found your total and utter failure to be endearing, and you end up dating him for 6 months… 🙋🏼‍♀️

The first week with mom was…not what we expected. We lost our baggage and were stuck at the airport for hours trying to sort things out. We received two $100 tickets for having our feet up on a train in Paris. Every time I tried to work on my French with a waitress or grocery store clerk, I was immediately shut down. We were this close to being struck by a car speeding around a tight corner. Our Airbnb room was right above a bumping nightclub and shared a thin wall with a man I’m pretty sure may have been dying by the way he coughed and choked night after night, day after day.

It got to the point where eventually we just sat down on our shared bed and cried. Was it supposed to be this hard? We were so hopeful that maybe this would be one of the first truly joyful experiences since Sierra died. We felt silly and terribly guilty for complaining while on a trip to Europe; talk about first-world problems. But it was clear that neither of us was having a good time.

It was helpful to acknowledge and validate it. It was okay that we were struggling; of course we were struggling. We had faced a deeply traumatic loss just last year. We let ourselves laugh at the comedy of errors that had been our trip thus far and agreed to take the good with the bad. There were more flubs and grief to come on this trip, but we did also find joy in the beaches and tapas of the Basque Country, excitement in the street art and underground WWE of Madrid, and awe in the cathedrals and architecture of Sevilla.

Two weeks later, it was time for Mom to head home and for me to head to Portugal. We said our goodbyes, a bit apprehensive for what was to come, but hoping for the best.

I took a train from Sevilla to Loulé, a small town on the south coast of Portugal. Within minutes of arriving at the animal shelter where I’d be living for the next three weeks, I met sweet Koral. I instantly fell in love and had to remind myself that I had an entire month of work in Sweden after this, and that under no circumstances could I bring a dog with me.

I quickly settled into life at the shelter, scooping poop and walking dogs in the mornings, rushing back to our little mobile home on the property to eat lunch and play with Koral, more poop scooping, more walks, back to Koral, walking the mile to the grocery store to buy ingredients for dinner, back to Koral, back to Koral, back to Koral. The more time I spent with Koral, the less I wanted to leave. I knew she would get adopted no problem; I mean, just look at her! But I had this nagging feeling that I didn’t want anyone else to have her but me. I figured I was just being selfish and tried to move past it. Until one morning, about a week into my stay at the shelter.

I was sitting outside, Koral on my lap, chatting with Joao. Joao was a full-time worker at the shelter and knew how much I loved Koral (heck, it was plain to everyone), so he wanted to tell me her origin story.

Koral was found next to a dumpster in an alley the day she was born, with three siblings and her mom, Kenya.

The day Koral and her family were found, one of her siblings had already died. In the days following at the shelter, her other two siblings passed away.

Upon hearing this, I knew I wasn’t just in love with Koral for her cuteness. I knew that nagging feeling was there for a reason. We were kindred spirits. Just like me, Koral lost each of her siblings far too early. She was never meant to survive on her own, but there she was. Neither Koral or I were meant to grow up on our own, but there we were. Every one of our precious siblings had crossed over to a place we could not reach, and we were here.

I knew it would be a complicated mess, but at this point, there was no way I was leaving without her. I skipped out on Sweden, adjusted all my flights, acquired Koral’s “puppy passport”, and headed for home. Turns out mom, dad, and I were right. This trip would be cathartic and hopeful. This trip would bring me my soul dog.

I whispered to Koral on the day we left,

“Koral, my dear survivor, we’re in this together for the long haul”.

My grief robbed me of so much, but one thing I never considered it would rob me of was dating.

Let’s be real for a sec - dating is already treacherous as heck in today’s world. From dating apps, ghosting, and misogyny, to crap dates where you carry quite literally the whole conversation. It’s ROUGH out there, my guys. But guess what? It can actually get even worse! Yayyy.

Let me make one thing clear: I love love. Finding my person has always been the thing I’ve looked forward to most in life. To an extent, I feel my entire existence has revolved around giving and receiving love. However, my experience with romantic love and dating has evolved drastically over the past nine years. Here’s how.

Year One

Girl, you are SO far in dissociation; don’t you even try.

I was a college athlete at the time my sister passed, so I chose (I say “chose,” but in reality it was completely subconscious and definitely not a choice) the route of deny, deny, deny for about a year and a half. I threw myself into sports and school and refused to acknowledge that I was living in a reality where my sister was no longer living. Not the best time to start a relationship.

I spent the rest of my college career single for the most part, with a date or two here and there. To be honest, for that first year I almost felt as though I was off limits to potential suitors. It was a small enough college that most of the athletes were aware of my “situation,” and I felt as though it was something no guy was even willing to come near. I felt like maybe people thought I was too fragile, too shut down, too jaded, too broken, or just straight up too much. And to be fair, that was suuuper true. I was not in a place to be dating, nor did I really want to be dating. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

Years Two And Three

Once I began to crawl my way out of dissociation, a new demon found its way to my side.

How could anyone ever truly know me if they didn’t know her?

I convinced myself that no man would ever be able to understand who I was without having known my sister. There was no way! She was far too big a piece of me for this not to be the case. And if you can’t truly know me, then surely you can’t date me, let alone be my soulmate.

It became impossible for me to picture myself ever being with someone or getting married. After nineteen years of daydreaming about my future soulmate, I couldn’t see it anymore. A life with someone new that would never know my sister didn’t seem possible. And I got to the point where I accepted that. I had been okay on my own for years, and I would continue to be okay on my own for the rest of my life.

Years Four Through Seven

Turns out I’m too much of a sucker for love to give up on finding my person forever. I stumbled my way through a few relationships in my mid-twenties. Again, I was met with new challenges as I learned how my grief impacted the way I showed up in romantic relationships.

Losing someone without warning gave me an intrinsic need for control in these relationships. I would show up as the best possible version of who I thought my partners wanted me to be to keep them from leaving. I wanted to control the outcome. If there was the potential of losing someone, I wanted it to be on my terms. This meant I was generally the one to end relationships, leaving before my partner had the chance to. It took multiple relationships over several years for me to recognize this pattern. I didn’t want to be blindsided by losing someone I love again, and that led to some unhealthy habits.

Years Eight Till Now

After lots of time and therapy, I got to a place where I could show up in relationships more authentically. And who would have thought that showing up authentically would present yet another pitfall of dating after death?

When I got to the point where I was able to be vulnerable in relationships, I discovered that not everyone could relate or empathize with my story. I never wanted having lost someone or experienced trauma to be a prerequisite to dating me. I mean, seriously, what a terrible prerequisite. But if I’m being real, I found it difficult to connect with people who haven’t experienced loss. It’s a conversation I’ve had on multiple dates, and one man had the perfect way of describing it.

In Harry Potter, the students are all taken from a train to Hogwarts in carriages. (I know this seems like a HARD pivot, but bear with me; I promise it’ll make sense) For the first four movies, the carriages appear to be driving themselves. But in the fifth movie, Harry notices that the carriages are being pulled by skeletal-looking horses called Thestrals. He doesn’t understand why nobody else can see them and why he could never see them before now. He’s told by Luna Lovegood that he can only see the Thestrals now because he has seen death. Only those who have witnessed death can see the Thestrals.

This may seem like a goofy thing to relate dating to, but it made immediate and complete sense to me. After having certain experiences, you inevitably view the world differently than you did before. There’s no going back to the way you used to see things, and for those who haven’t had those experiences, there’s no way for them to see the world the way you do. It’s like two completely different realities. Both are very real, and neither is right or wrong. But being two individuals trying to connect while residing in two separate realities can be hard. I will say, I’ve definitely met some amazingly empathetic and understanding people who haven’t lost a loved one. There are always exceptions to the rule. But it was comforting to hear that I wasn’t the only one who had felt this disconnect.

Dating, at the end of the day, is about connecting with people. And when you’ve lost someone you love, “connecting to people” turns into a minefield of questions you don’t want to answer, perspectives that may fall on deaf ears, and the potential of losing someone you love…again. I am still firmly planted in said minefield, taking each step with care. But I’m hopeful. Yes, dating is seriously the worst sometimes, but I also know that there are lots and lots of wildly wonderful people out there. And my person is one of them! I just haven’t found him yet.

I like to think that I’m a proactive person, so I’m taking it upon myself to create a comprehensive list of reasons for my friends to lay out why they should still love me if (and when) I am a worm. If you, too, worry that you’re doomed to cross over the mud bridge to worm land someday, this is for you. We must remain a united front and stand tall for all worms!! You’re welcome.

1. Just look how CUTE I am as a worm?

I mean, c’mon, I’m frickin adorable.

2. You can fit me in your pocket

This way, you can take me everywhere you go, all the time, forever, for the rest of our lives.

3. You’ll never have to worry about me stealing your snacks

I’m not sure what I eat… or if I eat at all… maybe I’m solar-powered? Either way, you’ll never have to share any of your snackies with me ever again, so chow down!

4. If you happen to accidentally cut my tail off... ON ACCIDENT… ACCIDENTALLY… DON’T CUT ME…but if you ACCIDENTALLY do…I won’t even die or anything; I’ll just grow it back

You can’t get rid of me that easily hahahahahaha.

5. Worms have 5 hearts, so I’ll love you 5x more than I did before

Awwwww don’tcha just love love?

6. Worms don’t have any teeth, so even when you piss me off and I resort to violence, I can’t bite you. Or at least when I do, I won’t do any damage

Don’t get too comfy though, I’m sure I’ll find other ways to exact revenge…

7. Worms don’t have eyeballs, so I’ll always think you're hot stuff

I mean, honestly, you could really just let yourself go and I’d still be like daaaaaaaamn, you seeeeexy!

8. You could give me a fun nickname

I’ve taken the liberty of starting a list of potential candidates for you:

• Hottie McSquiggles

• Dirt Princess

• Madam Muddington

• Squirmy Wormy Cute Pants (my personal fave)

• Lil’ wiggle

• Five Hearts Francis

9. I’ve clearly somehow mastered the art of turning into a worm

I mean that’s pretty cool, right? Plus, maybe someday, if I really, really like you, I’ll turn you into a worm too! You should be so lucky.

10. Honestly, I think I’ve convinced myself that being a worm is so great that I’m not even sure I need you!!

Lol jk, please love me forever.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Substack: girloverboard.substack.com - written bonus content released weekly!

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Substack: girloverboard.substack.com - written bonus content released weekly!

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Substack: girloverboard.substack.com - written bonus content released weekly!

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

I lost my sister, Sierra, when she was 21 years old, and I was 19. It was a traumatic loss after years of her fighting substance use disorder, a nasty, complex disease. I got the news while on a trip in LA, surrounded by strangers. I flew home alone to Washington for my sister’s memorial service the next day. I went back to college the next week, to a life where nobody knew her except my roommate.

At the time, I had no idea what the word dissociation even meant, let alone that I was becoming a poster child for it.

A few months after her passing, I sought out therapy. At my first appointment, my therapist cried for me when I could not cry for myself. Some would say that perhaps it was unprofessional of her, but it felt deeply real and thoughtful to me. This person saw, felt, and was willing to sit with my pain in a way I was unable to. She didn’t try to pretend she was unaffected by my story, and I appreciated that.

After weeks of getting comfortable and slowly opening up (or at least trying to), my therapist recommended writing letters to Sierra. She was big on never doing anything that felt like it was pushing myself beyond what I could handle, but she did believe that when I was ready, it could be a good way for me to start some processing and feel connected to Sierra.

So, 3 months after Sierra died, I attempted my first letter to her.

Dear Seirra…. Sierra? Seirra? Seirra…

I stared at the name for ages, switching the position of the “i” and the “e” back and forth, back and forth. Ultimately, I landed on Seirra (incorrect) and continued writing. All the while, I knew it still didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. Not only that, but writing the letter itself felt like trying to write to someone I’d been told was important, yet I couldn’t seem to recall who they were.

Days later, I came back to the letter and was 90% sure of where I’d gone wrong. I corrected the name and continued writing more letters over the following months. Each letter felt like recounting a dream. Like I was walking through a dense fog searching for someone or something to give it all meaning.

What were these letters even about?

Who was this person I was writing to?

Why did they feel so important when I wasn’t even sure who they were?

Was this person even real?…

One year later

It took over a year of therapy for me to learn and recognize what was happening; Dissociation at its finest.

The only way my brain was able to cope was to forget. My brain severed any ties I had to my sister in order to survive.

It was easier for me to believe that this person never existed at all, rather than that she had existed and was gone now. She had existed as my whole world for 19 years, and now my whole world was gone. And that was not a reality that I could fathom.

The shame this brought was so heavy I thought I might die under the weight of it. I felt like a coward. To let myself believe she never existed at all was the biggest insult and disservice to her I could imagine. It felt like taking the easy way out, and whether involuntary or not, I felt as though I had let her down in an unforgivable way. I wasn’t sure which felt worse at that point, believing she wasn’t real or knowing this was how my brain had decided to cope.

I spent the next year sitting in this new grief and shame. Sierra had been my sun, my moon, and all my stars. And now my sky was black. My night was black. My entire world was black. And I let it all be black for a long, long time. I existed in my pitch-black world alone - unwilling to let anyone see the type of person I believed myself to be.

The type of person who forgot how to spell her dead sister’s name.

Many, many years later

It took me several years to forgive myself for the ways my brain tried to protect me. I still get angry sometimes that maybe I would have more memories of Sierra if I hadn’t spent the first year and a half forgetting her. I think perhaps this was one of the reasons why telling Sierra’s story through the podcast was so important to me. I needed to share her story with the world. I needed everyone around me to know of her existence and what she meant to me. I needed to remember every little detail I possibly could and write it down. I needed her to be here with me.

It’s not easy sharing this with the world. I know many people won’t understand and will think that I’m a coward for the way I responded to death. But I also know that I’m likely not alone. Perhaps not many people have quite literally forgotten how to spell their loved one’s name after having lost them. But I know I’m not the only one who has experienced dissociation in grief. I’m not the only one who has felt shame for the ways I involuntarily coped. But I can be the one to name it, validate it, and remind you (and me) that it’s okay. Sometimes we aren’t given a choice in how we survive; we just do. And sometimes our worlds go black.

As someone who’s been there, I can promise you that light will always find its way back. There are still days when my world feels unbearably dark. But glimmers of light do peek through. Rays of sunshine trickle through trees and spill over mountaintops. And when darkness falls, Sierra is there in the moon and stars, blanketing the world in a soft glow.

Wherever you are on your journey, be gentle with yourself. Even in the darkness, I promise you do not walk alone.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Substack: girloverboard.substack.com - written bonus content released weekly!

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Substack: girloverboard.substack.com - written bonus content released weekly!

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com/resources. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

My sister Sierra fought courageously for years against substance use disorder, a diabolical and heartbreaking disease. Despite her bravery, strength, and determination, Sierra passed away from the disease in March 2017. She was 21 years old at the time, and I was 19.

When a family experiences a traumatic loss such as ours, it’s not uncommon for relationships to fall apart or become estranged. No matter the love that lives in a home, perhaps even because of the love that lives in that home, it’s too heartbreaking to remain together. As if losing a core member wasn’t enough already, the burden it creates within the remaining family is often too much to bear. And I understand that. Having lived it, I can easily see how walking away altogether may feel like the only way to survive. There were many days when I considered that this may be the case for me.

So it is not lost on me that my parents and I are lucky we have meaningful and loving relationships with one another after loss.

Not All Sunshine And Rainbows

I say that I know we’re lucky. But to be clear, it’s not been all sunshine and rainbows. To start, we lost someone. Someone we never dared imagine ever having to do life without. Sierra was our sun, moon, and all our stars. And now she floats above us, alongside the sun, moon, and stars, in a world we cannot reach.

Learning how to love and be with one another after such a loss has been a journey riddled with potholes and shortcuts that turned out to be dead ends. Here are a few examples of the rough terrain we (and I’m sure many other families) had to navigate through.

Dinners alone

There was a period of time when I came home from college and was living with my parents (this was about a year after Sierra’s passing) that I physically could not eat meals with mom and dad. The thought of sitting around a table with just three of us to share a meal was more than I could handle. Every night after we’d prepared dinner, I’d take my plate to the basement to eat alone while mom and dad ate together upstairs.

Hugs? No thank you

From childhood through my 19th year, mom’s arms were always my safe place. A bad day, an upset stomach, a fight with a friend, hurt feelings, or a disappointing grade on an assignment were all solvable with a hug or cuddle from mom. When Sierra passed, I lost my ability to feel safe in the same way I did before. I could no longer be held by mom without being overcome with intense physical pain. I’ve described it in the past as feeling like my skin was being peeled off every inch of my body. Each time mom would try to console me, it was like I was a slug covered in salt, writhing around in pain. (Gross, I know. But it truly felt that way.) I would squirm away, only to leave a crying, heartbroken mom all alone, behind me. It was devastating for us both to realize that my safest place could no longer heal or comfort me.

To this day, physical touch can still be difficult for me to accept. Mom and I have had to find new ways to comfort and console one another. We’ve had to accept that our relationship will not look the same in that way, likely ever again. Yet another thing we lost and were forced to grieve.

Faith

I grew up in a Christian household where we were taught that there was life after death, Heaven was real, God’s love was unconditional, and we could rely on him to be with us always.

When Sierra passed, faith became an important way to survive and navigate loss for mom and dad. They relied on their relationship with God to carry them through.

Faith for me became a painful reminder of what I’d lost. Everything I once believed went out the window. I felt abandoned by the God I once knew, and I no longer understood…well, anything. Christianity felt like a foreign language, and it was the first time in my life that I questioned everything. It was messy figuring out how to honor the ways God was showing up in mom and dad’s life while still allowing myself to feel deeply hurt by the ways I felt he wasn’t showing up in mine.

Glimpses into the past

Mom and dad would often tell me that they saw Sierra in me. The way I would talk, my mannerisms, or my laugh gave them little glimpses of Sierra. I did not get those glimpses. I didn’t get to see Sierra the way they did in me, and it made me angry for a long time.

From two to one

When Sierra passed, I went from being a sibling to an only child. Having a new kind of attention thrown onto me was incredibly difficult for us all to navigate. I felt a new pressure that I was now the only one.

Figuring out how to approach that pressure with grace has been difficult. Mom and dad just want me to be happy. I know that. And they have not outwardly put an ounce of pressure on me. But I still feel it in my bones. I want so badly to give them all those chances. And I know that there’s nobody else around to do it anymore but me.

Why aren’t you experiencing what I’m experiencing?

Everyone experiences grief differently. Sure, there are the “stages,” but at the end of the day, we’re all just muddling through the best we can.

For mom and I, specific dates and anniversaries hold great power. For dad, those specific days don’t have as big an impact. Early on for dad, sharing stories and videos helped him to feel connected to Sierra. For me, I was not able to comprehend that Sierra even existed after losing her, and watching videos made me deeply uncomfortable. For mom, looking through Sierra’s things hit her like a ton of bricks, opening up a chasm of deep sorrow. For me, looking through Sierra’s things made me turn into an emotionless robot.

Mom, dad, and I have all moved through grief in our own way, and I know we will continue to do so.

A Little Bit Of Sunshine And Rainbows

My parents and I have had countless moments of not understanding one another, being frustrated, or feeling hurt by one another. We’ve witnessed one another fall apart, and we’ve been painfully reminded of what we’ve lost with one another on a daily basis.

Navigating grief as a family is complicated, to say the least. But with a little bit of luck and a lot a bit of love, we’re still here together. Mom and dad are truly two of my best friends, and I love doing life with them. And now, nine years after having lost Sierra, we can incorporate her into our lives in ways that feel healing. We can tell stories about her and laugh. We can celebrate her life and the joy she often brought to ours. We can honor her and cherish her. We can recognize that we are still a family of four; one of us just lives among the stars now. And we’ll surely reunite with her up there someday.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com/resources. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Resources & Support:
For information on substance use disorder, treatment options, and family support, visit www.girloverboardpod.com. If you’re in an immediate crisis, contact local emergency services or a crisis hotline.

Credits:
Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

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How we got here: A timeline of events you didn’t ask for

• Nine years ago, I lost my big sister, Sierra, to substance use disorder. (what a way to start, oof).

• Seven years ago, my mama came to me with the idea to make a podcast about Sierra, our family, and the complexities of substance use within that dynamic.

• Five years ago, Mama and I interviewed 15 of our amazing friends and family, along with some experts in the field.

• Four and a half years ago, I mixed the first episode of Girl Overboard, and it broke me. I was not ready to be reintroduced to the intimate details of Sierra’s journey yet. So I walked away, unsure if I would ever come back to it.

• Six months ago, I knew I was finally ready. I hunkered down and got it done. Day in and day out, I stuck with it til it was finished.

• In June 2026, Girl Overboard was released.

It’s been the honor of my lifetime to get to tell Sierra’s story. I know how important her story is, and even though it’s deeply uncomfortable to be vulnerable in this way,

I know that sharing her story will save lives, change minds, start conversations, and combat stigmas.

And I know how much Sierra would love that.

Sierra (left) and I (right) playing dress-up at grandma’s. Sierra traditionally got the tiara, while I wore the hunting raccoon hat. Classic.

While producing and engineering Girl Overboard, I was met with a harsh reality. There was no way for me to include Sierra’s (and my) full story in a 10-episode limited podcast series. It more closely resembles a mere glimpse, rather than a thorough deep dive into our lives.

Link to the Girl Overboard podcast

I’m proud of the content I created and the way I wove Sierra’s story together, but there’s also so much more I want to say. So many stories that have not seen the light of day. So many emotions and reflections, and totally unhinged thoughts that I still want to share - whether anyone is there to listen or not. Enter: Substack.

Welcome to Misfit Island, we’re accepting new members!

Like the Girl Overboard podcast, I’m hopeful to find and create community here. I went over a decade feeling like a square trying to fit in at a circle convention. Sierra’s journey with substance use, as well as her passing, were both riddled with complexities, emotions, and realities that felt impossible for anyone to understand. I erred on the side of hiding my story from everyone, even my closest friends. I was unwilling to face my fears being confirmed - that I was, in fact, a square on a planet full of round objects.

The good news is that the reality is far more heartwarming. Just a week after releasing the first three episodes, I’ve already been blown away by the number of people who relate to our story. People who have walked the same path, who have also felt like squares. And also people who have walked vastly different paths. But are curious, kind, and open-minded.

When Sierra and I were kids, every winter we would watch the 1964 stop-motion film, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and The Island of Misfit Toys. I loved it (despite the slightly unsettling look of the figurines), especially Misfit Island. Even at a young age, before all the messiness of life exposed itself, I felt a deep-rooted connection to the misfit toys. The Island looked safe and happy.

Now, I’d like to think that I am not a square, but just a misfit toy. Perhaps a spotted elephant, or a bird that swims. A cowboy riding an ostrich or a bear with tail feathers. In the traditional sense, I very much so do not fit in. But I’ve learned that I am not the sole resident of my Misfit Island. Through sharing Sierra’s and my story, I’ve witnessed misfit toys of all shapes and sizes make their way out of the woodwork to join me. Turns out, sharing stories creates community. And that’s just straight up lovely.

Wow, that was a journey. I’m not even sure where we are anymore.

Oops, welcome to the intricate and tangled spaghetti-noodle ways that my brain operates. It’s a mess up there, and it’s all about to pour out! So here’s my pitch:

If you’re someone who is or has experienced substance use, trauma, or grief, you are welcome and loved here. You are seen and wanted here. You are not alone here.

If you are a misfit toy looking for an island, I got you!

If you’re just curious about what unfiltered thoughts, confessions, or stories will spew from my brain next, I can confirm that they will be spewing and they will be wildly unfiltered.

If any of these sound like you, I’m happy you’re here, and I hope you stick around.

P.S. (because this is my substack, and I can add a P.S. if I want to)

More than damn near anything, Sierra loved to laugh & make others laugh. So while this feed will frequently display themes of grief, trauma, and mental health, I’m also hopeful to provide the occasional laugh. Or at least a giggle, I’m not that funny, I get it.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Credits: Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who needs to hear it.

Credits: Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.

• Website: www.girloverboardpod.com

• Instagram: @girloverboardpod Join the conversation on our social media channels as we break the silence on these critical issues.

• Email: girloverboardpod@gmail.com

• Listen & Review: If you find Sierra's story meaningful, please leave us a review and share this episode with someone who may benefit from hearing it.

Credits: Co-created by Reece and Karen Carman. Produced and Engineered by Reece Carman. Associate Producer: Megan Sanchez.