In June, I wrote about middles and beginnings, reflecting on the way the month left me feeling a little restless in that transitional space. We were halfway through the year, but there was still the possibility of starting fresh. Then the rest of June went by in a flash of tan lines, fresh-squeezed lemonade from the kids down the road, and fleeting moments of laughter, followed quickly by July and August.

I feel like I blinked on August 1st when I hit play on Taylor Swift, ringing in salt air and rust on your door season. And before I knew it, September was sailing in on the cool night breeze.

I don’t know the history behind the National Day of Grief, but as I sit here in the afternoon heat, gazing out at the summer plants that are beginning to turn in on themselves, I think maybe this is the perfect time of year to recognize grief.

There is something about the end of summer that feels inherently bittersweet. The season is still here, but already leaving. The days are warm, but the evenings carry a little more coolness. The flowers are still blooming, but some have begun to fade. Everything is quietly reminding us that nothing stays exactly as it is.

And it makes me think of a poem by Josie Balka, inspired by the very same song that is coursing through the speaker next to me at this very moment. Maybe we are all having some of these same feelings as August slips through our fingers. I’ll link the poem too, but I’m going to share the snippet that especially resonates with me at this moment.

If someone asks me to describe nostalgia, I’d say it feels like August.
The shortest summer days that feel the longest.
The month you miss while it’s still here.
But I think that’s just us missing the ones that came before
and missing the person I was the last time it rolled around.
Because I’ve never met the same me in two Augusts.
And I love it while it’s here
but when it goes the thought of it sets heavy..
Like an ache right in the center of me.

-Josie Balka, August

These are the feelings I find myself so drawn to in writing, movies, music, and so many other forms of media. The common thread is the human experience: nostalgia, love, community, longing, and, most commonly, grief.

Because we don’t get to live a life without experiencing grief.

As I’ve continued to navigate my own grief journey, I’ve come to hold my grief as a special part of that journey. Not because I am grateful for the losses themselves, or because I believe everything happens for a reason, but because I wouldn’t be who I am without them. Grief has shaped me. It has made me more gentle, more forgiving, and, in many ways, more brave.

People sometimes say that grief is just love without a place to go. And while I understand the sentiment, I don’t think it’s quite true. Because grief doesn’t simply exist in a bubble for the remainder of our lives. It doesn’t stay separate from the rest of us, frozen in the place where the loss happened. Instead, it melts into our very being. It becomes part of the way we understand the world, the way we love, the way we remember, and the way we move through our lives.

I don’t want that to sound like a toxic positivity approach to grief, because grief has been heavy rain clouds for me on many days. There are days when it is impossible to see beyond it. Days when it feels less like something I carry and more like something carrying me.

But when the sun comes out again, grief is the raindrops on the leaves, catching the light and casting it somewhere new.

It changes. It evolves. It finds new places to live within you. Then you become a new version of you through it.

Maybe that is part of why August feels like such a fitting month for grief. It is a season of things being both here and gone. Of holding something beautiful while knowing you cannot keep it exactly as it is. Of looking back while still moving forward.

And isn’t that exactly what grief is?

We don’t leave it behind. We learn its changing shape. We discover that something can be gone and still remain with us, just as something can be ending and still be beautiful while it is here.

So as August slips away, I’m trying not to rush past the ache of it.

I want to notice what is still blooming. But I also want to let myself miss what has already gone. That is how I will prepare for whatever is next.

And I want to remember that sometimes, the most honest way to honor what we’ve lost is simply to keep living, carrying it with us, allowing it to change us, and making room for whatever comes next.

If I know anything for sure, it is that next August I will be sitting here, a little more changed than I was this year.

Grief Recommendations for August

Books

I just dove into my final read of August, which is also a new release as of August 4. Click here to learn more about Amy B. Scher and The Unexpected Afterlife of Salon Rose.

“How do you come of age when you’re dead and your killer is still on the loose?” Are you hooked? Because I was after meeting Amy and reading that one line. A little more about the book… “17-year-old Salon Rose arrives to the Nowhere in Between, a way-station between life and death—where she learns she’s been murdered. Returning to the life she had before is not an option, but before Salon can move on, she is determined to discover who was responsible for her death.”

I connected with Amy when a mutual friend shared one of my recent articles about grief and she read it, which then connected us on our grief and art journeys. I was so excited to learn about her novel that had just released and the portions of her own life and loss that she had poured into this beautiful story. I can’t wait to finish this one this weekend!

Music

I’ll be honest.. it took me awhile to listen to Phoebe Bridgers third solo studio album, Lost Weekend, which released on August 14th. It was dedicated to her father who passed away in 2023 and as with most of her music, explores grief, life, relationships. Phoebe’s writing and vocals always leave me with this deep emotional feeling, and I wasn’t in the headspace for it when it first released, as I was navigating some complex emotions around my family.

But as I dove in, it was yet another beautiful and brilliant telling of how love and loss coexist. There are deep fragments of pain and loss, but love is the underlying core of it. I know not every album requires it, but this is one I’d recommend listening from top to bottom to have the full journey through grief.

And one final thought to leave you with..

Earlier this week, we learned of the passing of both Tim Curry and Dolly Parton. It was brutal news. Both are figures I grew up admiring through their different forms of art, and seeing friends celebrate their lives through tributes, memories, and stories about the moments their work made special has been bittersweet. It has also led me to revisit some of my own memories and the ways their work became part of my life.

It’s okay to give yourself time to grieve someone you never personally met but who still had a profound impact on your life. Sometimes, the people who leave the biggest marks on us are those whose work, creativity, and presence become woven into our own stories. Tim Curry and Dolly Parton leave behind two enormous, beautiful legacies, and it’s okay to take the time to mourn them, remember them, and appreciate all they gave us.

Go enjoy The Rocky Horror Picture Show, especially if your local theater is hosting a showing. Holler along to the words of “Jolene” as they were meant to be sung, and support Dolly’s Imagination Library while you’re at it.

Hugs. See you next time.

-Mads

It isn’t embarrassment. I think it is something deeper: the fear of never reaching that goal I so desperately want. A goal that fills my heart and mind with so much joy, but also suffocates me with the possibilities of failing.

I grew up loving stories and the art of story-telling. When I close my eyes, I can still bring myself back to the moments when my grandmother would read to my younger brother and me. His knobby knees tucked into my side, his mind more occupied on the truck toy in his hand. But for me, I found myself lost in the worlds she laid out before us through her animated storytelling. Slowly I drifted away from the bed we all lay in together and found myself becoming one with the stories.

As a teenager, I found that same love within movies and music, and still through reading. Through angsty teen novels and blog posts where I felt this connection to fictional people or even people halfway across the world, all of us sharing these common human experiences and emotions.

The common thread was that through storytelling, I felt less alone.

And through it all, I’ve felt that I had these stories inside my soul that I wanted to tell.

The problem lies in the execution. My notebooks and notes app on my phone are filled to the brim with glimmers of ideas, snippets of stories and conversations, lines of text that express how an emotion made me feel, all in the hopes of using them one day.

But when I open a blank document, the flashing cursor feels like a hypnotizing spell that somehow takes all of those words and ideas right out of me. Instead of creating the worlds and sharing the stories in my heart, I end up with half completed projects.

It has taken a lot of work and reflection over the last year to help me feel more confident in my writing and accepting of the process, but my stall point now still lies in how I identify.

When I introduce myself to someone new, I want to identify as an author. I want to tell them about the project that I am working on, and share about the personal essays I write here on Substack, or even the poems that I keep to myself in my desk drawer. But this self-doubt creeps in and doesn’t allow me to claim that title.

And in understanding and being so fascinated by the human experience, I can’t deny that comparison is one of those that I have been going through. How do I take the title of writer or author when I haven’t accomplished as much as my peers who are doing the same?

I see a lot of talk about it, and I think that helps normalize that we all feel it that way at times. And sure it is easy enough to give the advice not to compare your journey to others, but it doesn’t necessarily take the sting away from feeling behind.

Maybe this is just a musing on how it takes time and patience, and lots of growth. But also a place for me to practice with a blank document and take ownership of that future that I want for myself.

Because I am a writer. I am an author of work that I am proud of. And someday (hopefully sooner than later) I will be a published author.

Maybe that is also manifestation and speaking it into the existence. And yes, my Substack subscribers count as the existence.

So on this sunny Friday afternoon, I will continue to show up for my friends who are writing and cheer them on. I will build myself into communities that lift me up and help me recognize my goals as real ones, and that they deserve a voice. I’ll take workshops and listen to podcasts, and show up to art galleries and find moments of inspiration that fill my cup. And I will keep writing, keep telling my stories.

But most importantly, I will keep saying it out loud.

I am an author.

It’s strange how a number can feel both impossibly large and surprisingly small. Some days it feels like Seth died yesterday. Other days, I have to stop and count because I can’t believe I’ve lived almost a decade in a world without him.

Our siblings are the first relationships we build outside of the ones we have with our parents. Seth taught me how to play, how to fight, and, most importantly, how to forgive. Even on our worst days, I never imagined a future without him in it.

Each year as we make that shift from July to August signifies another year without him, and each year has looked a little different for me. Some years have been heavy with grief, others filled with gratitude for the time we had together. This last year, especially since turning 30, has felt particularly pivotal. As I reflected on the passing of time, I also found myself thinking about how much I’ve learned over these last nine years.

I write this from the perspective of losing a sibling because that is the grief that has shaped me most. But I hope some of these lessons ring true no matter the loss you’ve experienced. And if you haven’t yet experienced a world-shaking loss, I’m still holding your hand tightly. My one lesson for you would be to not live your life afraid of loss and grief, but to live a full life that brings you joy.

These might not be universal truths, and I imagine that they will continue to change and take new shape as life continues to bring me more happiness and grief, but these are nine lessons from the last nine years.

1. People won’t always know how to show up—and it’s okay to tell them how.

I used to expect people to instinctively know what I needed. Now I realize grief is complicated and confusing for everyone, not just the person living through it. Some people disappear because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing. Others say things that unintentionally hurt. Many simply don’t realize that what you need isn’t advice—it’s someone willing to sit beside you in silence.

As a parentified eldest daughter, one of the hardest lessons for me was realizing it’s okay to ask for what you need. It’s okay to ask for company. To ask for space. To say, “Can we not talk about this today?” Or, just as importantly, “I actually do want to talk about him.”

The people who love you usually want to help. Sometimes they just need, and even appreciate, being shown how.

2. Celebrate the little moments.

Some of the moments that make me miss Seth the most aren’t birthdays or holidays. They’re the ordinary ones.

When my dog does something that would have made him laugh. When I eat a burger he would’ve loved. When I hear a song and instinctively wonder whether he ever got the chance to listen to it.

For a long time, those moments caught me off guard because they reminded me of what was missing. Over the years, though, I’ve started to see them differently. If grief can live in the ordinary moments, then so can joy.

Those little reminders are evidence that he’s still woven into my everyday life, and they deserve just as much attention as the milestones. After all, the little moments are where most of life happens.

They’re worth celebrating.

3. There isn’t a hierarchy of grief.

There was a period when I couldn’t understand how anyone else could be having a bad day because mine felt so much worse. In 2023, I wrote a poem called Sadness Olympics. I shared part of it online, but what I didn’t share was the part where I truly believed I had to prove my sadness. To hold onto it, to somehow justify the stage of grief I was in and that my pain was worth showing.

I’ve since learned that pain isn’t a competition. Someone else’s heartbreak doesn’t diminish your own, and your grief doesn’t invalidate theirs. There is room for both. This is part of the human experience.

4. Grief doesn’t follow a schedule.

When people talk about grief, they often describe it like a straight line. As though each year gets a little easier than the last. It can feel like you’re expected to move through the stages until one day you’re “finished.”

My experience hasn’t looked anything like that. Some anniversaries have felt surprisingly peaceful, while a random Tuesday in February has completely unraveled me. I still catch myself looking twice when I see a man with dark features wearing a flannel shirt in the middle of summer because, for just a split second, maybe it’s him.

Sometimes grief arrives in the middle of an otherwise beautiful day with friends, dug up by a memory I wasn’t expecting. Nine years later, it still catches me by surprise. Not as often, but when it does, it reminds me that healing doesn’t follow a timeline either.

I’ve stopped expecting grief to behave a certain way, and I’ve stopped judging myself when it doesn’t. Let yourself feel it all. Laugh. Cry. Scream.

Holding everything inside only delays the healing. And if you’re anything like me, those emotions will find a way out eventually, just with far less control. (Read: I’m basically a shaken bottle of champagne whenever I try to bottle things up for too long.)

5. You don’t have to carry them everywhere for them to still be with you.

For the first few years after losing Seth, I tried to carry him everywhere. Maybe this goes back to my Sadness Olympics in a way.

I threw myself into suicide prevention campaigns, said yes to every opportunity to share his story, and brought him into almost every conversation because I felt like I owed it to him to make sure he was never forgotten.

Looking back, I don’t think I realized how much of that came from the guilt of not being able to save him. Eventually, I burned myself into the ground because I was giving so much of myself before I’d given myself the chance to heal.

Life kept moving, whether I was ready or not. Slowly, I started saying yes to new opportunities and allowing myself to heal the broken pieces. Days would pass before I realized I hadn’t consciously thought about Seth. And when I noticed, I felt guilty.

Now I understand that forgetting and living are not the same thing. I don’t have to think about him every moment for him to still be part of me. He shaped who I am, and that doesn’t disappear simply because my life continues.

6. Showing up matters more than knowing what to say.

One of the biggest surprises after losing Seth was how many people turned to me when they experienced loss themselves. I think they assumed that because I’d lived through something so devastating, I would know exactly what to say.

The truth is, I usually don’t. And as someone who loves words, that’s a difficult thing to admit.

Over the years, I’ve watched friends experience loss and heartbreak, and almost every time I find myself staring at a blank text message wishing I could somehow lessen their pain. But all that comes out are the same simple words: I’m so sorry. I’m thinking of you. I’m here.

For a long time, I worried that those words weren’t enough.

Then I thought back to what I remember from the days after Seth died. I don’t remember every message people sent. I remember who checked in months later. Who sat with me without trying to fix anything. Who showed up. Grief doesn’t ask us to have perfect words, but it asks us to stay.

7. You’re allowed to be happy.

This lesson probably took me the longest to learn. For years, happiness felt strangely disloyal. If I was laughing too hard or excited about something in my own life, there was a part of me that wondered whether I was somehow leaving Seth behind.

It felt wrong for my life to keep getting bigger when his had ended so suddenly. Over time, I realized grief and joy aren’t competing emotions. They can exist side by side. I’ve experienced some of the happiest moments of my life since losing Seth, and I’ve carried him into all of them.

Experiencing joy doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten him. If anything, losing him has made me appreciate those moments more deeply than I ever would have before. In fact, I think one of the best ways I can honor my brother is by taking good care of myself.

8. Grief will change you.

Seth wasn’t the first person I lost, but sometimes I think back to that version of myself who hadn’t experienced a great loss yet.

I remember the too-short black dress I wore at sixteen as I stood beside my best friend at her father’s funeral, watching her grieve an unimaginable loss. I hadn’t yet experienced the death of someone in my immediate family, but I watched that loss reshape her.

Although we don’t talk anymore, she was one of the first people I thought about after Seth died because, despite the differences in our losses, I knew we had both been changed by grief.

Since losing my brother to suicide, I feel like people have started looking to me as they navigate their own grief. Maybe it’s because I made it through something they can’t imagine surviving. Maybe they’re wondering whether it gets easier. I don’t know if it gets “easier”... But it changes.

It softens in some places and hardens in others. It becomes less about surviving each day and more about learning how to carry the people we love while continuing to build a life around the space they left behind.

9. Don’t wait to build the life you want.

If losing a sibling has taught me anything, it’s how fragile time really is. We’re so good at convincing ourselves there will always be another year to take the trip, apply for the job, start the business, call the friend, or tell someone how we feel.

We plan our lives around a future that none of us are actually promised. For a long time, it felt unimaginable to chase my dreams when his had been cut short. Would it be fair that he wouldn’t be here when I got married someday? That he’d never get to be an uncle to my future children?

That he wouldn’t be standing beside me when I publish my first novel—even if he would’ve teased me and called me a nerd for writing it?

Today, I’m finally chasing that dream of writing a novel and weaving pieces of my brother into its pages. I like to think he’d be proud that I’m finally saying what I want out loud and going after it, even after all the false starts and failures.

Nine years later, I still wish Seth had more time. I always will. I will never be okay with the loss, but I have accepted that it happened. And I don’t know how long my story will be, but I want to choose how I spend writing the rest of it.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Whew. Reader, if you made it to the end of this list.. thank you. This felt hard and heavy to write because it is difficult to capture nine years of loss, learning, and life into an organized list.

But may I present to you a second list of nine things?

This is inspired by my friend , who is the host of the Ghosted by Grief podcast. In addition to her lovely podcast, she has done a few street style interviews where she asks people, “What is the craziest thing that my Dad has missed out on?” in the almost nineteen years since he passed. This is all part of her mission to normalize hard conversations, and I’ve absolutely loved watching these clips and the effort to have these hard conversations. Again, this is all part of the human experience, and we are doing a disservice to ourselves by running away from grief.

So here are nine things that my brother has missed out on since he died in 2017.. In a silly, goofy, things I’d love to laugh at with my brother, type of way.

1. We are sending pop-stars to space. In April 2025, Katy Perry joined an all-female crew on the Blue Origin’s New Shepard rocket on an 11-minute sub-orbital flight.

2. Twitter is now called X, and Elon Musk owns it. And you really would have hated the number of cyber cars and trucks in our small town.

3. The pandemic happened. It’s hard to believe you missed this one, but I don’t think you would have been in the whipped coffee, sourdough, TikTok dance crowd.

4. Everyone became a Formula 1 fan since the show Drive to Survive dropped on Netflix.. Me included. And I know that if I told you that I woke up at 3 AM to watch a car race in a different country, you would have roasted me. But you would also probably come over to watch if I asked.

5. Labubu dolls.. I’m not sure where you would have fallen on this one, but they are like weird Beanie Babies and people are fighting over them. I could see you having one hanging from your car rearview mirror though, you weirdo.

6. Barbie and Oppenheimer came out on the same day, and somehow it became the biggest movie event of the year. You would have been on the Oppenheimer side of the theater, but I bet you would have gone to see Barbie with Paige and I.

7. My dog, Rita.. you missed her being a crazy puppy, and I missed out on you being a free puppy-sitter. But now she is an old lady and in a wheel chair after an injury, and I just know that although you would have given her so much love, a dog in a wheelchair would be something you had a hard time not laughing at.

8. Taylor Swift got MARRIED to a football player in Madison Square Garden. An important celebration for my close and personal friend.

9. The Summer 2024 Olympics introduced breakdancing.. I think we would have rewatched Step Up in honor of this.

Now this list made me laugh. I’d love it if you would share something crazy that Seth has missed out on in the comments below.

And do yourself a favor and follow Ghosted by Grief and add to your podcast listening schedule.. You never know, you may see a familiar face over there someday soon!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It’s funny how grief can hold so many things at once. One moment you’re laughing about Labubu dolls and Formula 1 races, and the next you’re trying to find the words for the ache that never quite leaves. Maybe that’s why writing has become such an important part of my own grief journey. It gives me a place to hold both.

As I round out my thoughts before I take some time offline for the remainder of the week, I wanted to share about a wonderful event I attended on Tuesday evening at The Writing Gallery. Author was joined in conversation with to celebrate the release of her new book, Letting Grief Speak: Writing Portals for Life After Loss.

Diane shared her own grief journey and the work behind this book, offering safe and creative ways to write our hardest stories. The event felt especially timely as I continue plotting and drafting my first novel—a work of fiction that is deeply rooted in my own experience of losing a sibling to suicide. Sitting in a room with friends from a short-story fiction incubator I participated in last year and other writers who are navigating their own grief, I felt something in me soften and open even more. There is so much power in giving language to grief, and I can’t wait to continue telling this story.

I highly recommend snagging a copy of Diane’s Letting Grief Speak. As someone who has always had a strange resistance to writing prompts, the two exercises we worked through together unlocked something unexpected. They created space for grief, love, memory, and hope to exist together on the page. Learn more here.

I also finally had the chance to hug Jennifer Anne Gordon in real life after following her on Instagram for quite some time. Her newest novel, Perfect Wives, Perfect Lives, is available for preorder now and releases on September 8. Learn more here. Jennifer and her husband will also have their artwork featured at the Writing Gallery in August and I can’t wait to check it out!

And finally.. if you’re local to New Hampshire, or just passing through, I truly can’t recommend the Eleventh Letter Writing Gallery highly enough. Jocelyn has created a space that brings together an incredible community of creative, thoughtful, and kind people.

I met Jocelyn two years ago while I was working a different job, and she was one of the first people outside of my immediate circle that I told about my dream of writing a novel. Since then, she’s been an unwavering friend and supporter who has continually opened doors and encouraged my creative journey. This space has introduced me to some of the most wonderful people who I now consider close friends.

Whether you stop in to explore the current art installation, attend an event, or simply spend time in such an inspiring space, I hope you’ll support this wonderful creative community and maybe even give yourself permission to create something, too.

Thank you, as always, for reading. Thank you for being here through my grief and through my growth. Until next time.

XX

Mads

That is dramatic, but if you’ve been in my orbit recently, I think you can understand the sentiment. And when life got really messy over the last few months, I found it too hard to juggle all of the things while trying to dig myself out of the rubble and climb the mountain again. I shut my laptop and left it behind, also leaving behind every goal I had set for this year. My 30th year on this Earth, the year I would finally chase my dreams of finishing a novel. And maybe it was self-preservation to lighten the load as I made my way back up to clean air, but it also chipped away at parts of me that I had worked really hard to build up.

Today is the perfect June day. Sunny and 73°F with a slight breeze knocking away the humidity and pollen that has been drenching us for the last few weeks. The sun has danced her way across the sky to perfectly warm half of my patio and leave the other half in shade. Rita is of course choosing to lay on the warm sunny paver, while I’m tucked into the shady corner, legs crossed under me as I tip my head back and listen to the wind through the full greenery and the light hum of music coming from the speaker inside the house. It has become a crutch these last few months when I feel like I can’t function, but I open my phone and scroll mindlessly.

(Reader… please note that I think that one of these days I will have to delete TikTok or limit my screen time, but today is not that day. If you ever hear me saying, “I saw XYZ,” there is about a 87% chance that it was from a TikTok and a 13% chance it was from a local news publication that I trust. Today, we are going with the former.)

I saw a quote that read:

“June will remind you that not everything needs to happen all at once. June will open doors you stopped waiting in front of. June will soften what you’ve been carrying. June will make room for joy you didn’t see coming. June will show you it’s worth the wait. June will remind you how far you’ve already come.”

And to know me is to know that I am a sucker for a contemplative quote video over a mug of swirling coffee. But to know me is to also know that I am not afraid of new beginnings. There have been times in my life that this is due to being the bolter and running to a new start when things felt hard, but it is also due to wanting to chase the new adventure.

I think I’ve always struggled with the middle though. Seeing things through the hard parts where it feels a little heavier. From not throwing away the puzzle when I can’t quite piece together those final sections, or giving up on the manuscript when the plot hole feels too big. It is something I’ve recognized and worked on over the years, but something I can say that I have failed at over the last few months.

As I sit here, halfway through the month that signifies the halfway point of the year, I think there is something that feels really settling to the chaos that has been my life lately to know that June really is proof that the middle can still be the beginning.

We spend so much time treating beginnings as sacred things. January 1st. Birthdays. Mondays. The first page of a notebook. The first chapter of a book.

But life rarely waits for those clean edges.

Most of us find ourselves somewhere in the middle—of a year, a season, a healing process, a dream. Somewhere between who we were and who we’re trying to become.

Maybe that’s why I’ve struggled here. The middle doesn’t offer the adrenaline of starting or the satisfaction of finishing. It asks for something quieter. Consistency. Patience. Faith that the next step matters even when it doesn’t feel significant.

The truth is, I didn’t become a different person because I stepped away from my goals for a few months. The novel is still waiting. The ideas are still there. The version of myself who wanted those things didn’t disappear under the rubble. She just needed some grace and some space. But it can feel scary to start again.

I think that maybe June is reminding me that resting isn’t the same thing as quitting.

Maybe the mountain doesn’t need to be climbed in a single sprint. Maybe I don’t need to make up for lost time or cram six months of ambition into six weeks. Maybe all I need to do is open the laptop again. Write a paragraph. Add a song to my writing playlist. Take one small step toward the things I thought I had left behind.

The year isn’t over.

More importantly, neither am I.

So if you’re finding yourself in the middle too (in the messy, uncertain, unglamorous middle), I hope June reminds you of the same thing it is reminding me:

You are allowed to begin again from wherever you are.

Even here. Especially here.

We knew it would be difficult, but the winter months are difficult anyways. Knowing that I work from home and that this would even further limit me leaving the house while I cared for her, I went into this period of time with some conscious choices about how I would also take care of myself.

I found an editor I trusted to share my writing with and to work through an outline of my manuscript to organize my brain dump into something that I felt like could be developed into a story. And I stayed up late nights taking care of Rita, and made time to write.

December and January slowly felt like wins for me. Although I was tired, I felt like I was making the most of the time while Rita recovered. Slow walks outside in the freezing cold, followed by her snoring away in front of the woodstove as I sat on the floor next to her bed. As she started to improve, I was able to slowly step away more. I signed up for an in-person fiction writing incubator, and shared my writing with new friends. I attended virtual write-ins and author workshops, listened to podcasts and read blogs all featuring authors and artists who were continuing to inspire me.

I was creating in a way that felt so good.

And then one snowy weekend, I felt myself all consumed by things that were happening outside of my home, but to people in my community. I felt heartbroken, helpless, and scared. So I did what I could—I called my senators, shared resources, connected with my peers and found ways to uplift them when I could. I kept caring for Rita and myself, trying to control the things where I could, and be a community member to support hose who needed it. But I felt this heaviness that I couldn’t explain or figure out how to move away from.

And I stopped writing. I couldn’t find a way to create art. Not while the world felt this way. Not while there was nothing I could do—and why would this novel I’m writing even matter?

When we took Rita to her 8 week surgery x-ray a few days later, I was ready for good news. We had done everything right and she was slowly starting to act like herself again. It would be time for the next part of her healing journey. But as the hours ticked on, I knew in my heart something was wrong. That same heavy feeling wrapped around me as the doctor explained that although her bone had healed well, there were concerns about neurological issues.

I took home a dog who was so sick from the procedure, and proceeded to have terrible reactions to the medicine. I cried endless tears and every time I opened my phone, I was hit with more heavy news, and felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into a depression. I couldn’t control what was happening in my home anymore, and I certainly couldn’t control what was happening in the world.

Why would I even bother writing again?

As I pivoted to avoiding social media and taking in media from short doses or from controlled mediums, I started to see other people sharing similar sentiments. Artists, creatives, authors, musicians.. All struggling with the heaviness of the world. But all still finding a way to create.

I think what I kept coming back to is how unimportant my art felt. My dog was going through something so terrible and I didn’t know what the future held for her, people in my community were experiencing such terrible things, and I was writing a love story.

But then I heard the words, “Art is resistance,” and something shifted for me. And however those algorithms work, I started to see more posts with the same sentiment. All encouraging me to continue creating. Reminding me that it is important to have art in every form.

“You don’t have to make “important” art. You just have to make something: a poem, a sketch, a meme, a melody. In a world that tries to make us efficient, exhausted, and afraid, choosing to make anything at all is resistance.” — Karim Wafa

“Creating is one essential thing that we can all do right now to infuse the world with perspective, courage, and hope at a time when there is so much that is out of our control. Art is resistance. Creating things is resistance. It is not frivolous. It is courageous and responsible. — Mollie Fox

My heart still feels heavy, but I am slowly picking myself back up. Brushing off my pen, and continuing to write my story.

Rita is snoring next to me as I write this. My first time writing in well over a week. She is so brave to keep pushing through this difficult time, to still greet me with a tail wag and a sloppy kiss. While we don’t know what the next few days or weeks will hold for us, but we will continue to push through. There are probably a lot of lessons we can learn from our furry companions, but I’ll leave that for another rambling day.

Sending you all love as we continue to navigate difficult times as a community, and individually. And a reminder that when the world feels too heavy, don’t give up on the things that help us survive. Art, community, and the wet nose of your four legged pal.

A throwback photo from a warm October day in 2024, because I’m looking ahead to many days in my backyard with Rita girl once we’ve made it through.

-Mads

It was May of 2022 when I first picked up People We Meet on Vacation and met Poppy and Alex.

There was a period of a few years before this time in my life that are honestly a blur. In the time after I lost my brother to suicide, I was struggling deeply with my own mental health. I wasn’t happy at work, I felt like I was a burden to the people around me.. I tried so hard to be the easy-going girl that people could depend on. To not let the chains at my ankles pull me or anyone else down. And plastering that smile to my face may have chipped away at any sense of self that I had tried to hold on to. I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t know what I wanted.

But then through a reconnection with a best friend of mine, who is an avid reader, I picked up reading again. I dove headfirst into it, laying awake at night at swiping through pages on my Kindle, or curling up in my car on my lunch break to squeeze a chapter in. And then she introduced me to Emily Henry, and once again something clicked into place.

Subscribe now

I have loved the buzz around the Em-Hen universe these past few weeks with the Netflix adaptation of People We Meet on Vacation hitting our screens. Of course, I had to do a reread in preparation as well. (Disclaimer: If you are my friends and rolling your eyes at me because you know I reread this book at least 1-2 times a year, mind ya business. It is my comfort book.)

One of my favorite lines from Alex hit me really hard on this reread, and unfortunately wasn’t one of the great moments that made it on screen, so I feel like I had to give it a moment here.

“I don’t think I knew I was lonely until I met you.”

When I look back to the first time I read PWMOV, I felt a connection to Alex like I hadn’t with many other characters before. He is the eldest son who carried the weight of supporting his family and being the stable and reliable one. He was a little boy who wished away his wings so he could try to be normal. He was a man who realized he might be afraid of happiness, because of the risk of losing it all.

And while I love Poppy, and have learned a lot from her, it is Alex that I took the most lessons from in this book, because I saw myself in him.

Flash forward to today. Four years down the road and that line reached into my chest and knocked three times on my heart. A reminder, an encouragement. Live your life. Because if we wait, the moment may have already passed.

This idea of existing in a world and not realizing things are missing from your life that could bring you happiness is one that I think we all can understand if we sit with it for long enough. We find security, and wrap it around us. We live a life we think we are supposed to, or one that we think makes the most sense.

But as I chase my dreams of becoming an author, I have had to do a lot of work on myself to open up my heart and mind to a life that may not be picture perfect everyday. And with that, shifting my perspective on what the future can hold.

And I have refused to stay still, all because of a feeling rooted around that very same idea and fear of sitting in the unknown, just because it is safe. I like to think this is the same lesson that Alex took forward as he looked at his life, and his friendship with Poppy.

-Mads

When I was running through what I hope for myself in this next year, becoming was the word that I kept coming back to.

Becoming is the year of allowing. Of growing without rushing, of trusting the quiet unfolding. It’s choosing progress over perfection, curiosity over fear, and honoring who I am while I continue to evolve into who I am meant to be.

To me, becoming means staying open to the work, the whimsy and the wonder, and the in-between. A commitment to growth with grace. And showing up when the path isn’t always clear, but trusting that every step forward counts.

The courage to bloom slowly, to allow my edges to be soft as my roots grow steady. To follow what lights me up, and more than anything, to believe that who I’m becoming is already enough.

Why a Word of the Year Matters

To me, a word of the year doesn’t box you in as much as setting the traditional New Years resolution does. It simply gives you somewhere to return to and a feeling behind it.

I know many people who have great success in setting goals or resolutions, but for myself, and the part of my soul that crumbles under a ticking deadline or the blurry edges of a goal, setting intention behind a word has worked better for me.

When you are choosing your word of the year, I would recommend taking that time to reflect on your goals, your values, and the mindset that you are looking to bring with you through the next 12 months.

Carrying “Becoming” Forward

The word that you choose is not a promise of constant momentum, or even constant alignment. When I think about it, it is the commitment to allowing yourself to stay open. You can turn your word of the year into a set of manifestations or daily mantras, or even journal when you feel like you are embracing it, or even hitting a roadblock with it.

A Few Contenders

To help you in brainstorming, I figured I would share some other contenders that resonated with me when I was looking ahead. Each may light a different fire for you, or there may already be a word reaching out to you as you reflect.

• Authenticity

• Courage

• Manifestation

• Whimsy

• Presence

• Adaptability

• Fortitude

If you’re choosing a word for 2026, I’d love to know what it is. And if you’re still searching, that’s okay too—sometime's the word arrives when you’re ready to hear it. If you are open to sharing, drop a comment with your Word for 2026, or hold it close to your heart.

Wishing you all the best in these final days of 2025. And while I continue to have some big goals for 2026 around my personal growth, my writing, and the little moments that fill my every day life.. I’m no longer chasing a finished version of myself.

I’m becoming.

Just outside my window, the afternoon sun dips through the trees, shifting to the Blue Hour and everything slows for a few moments.

The Blue Hour is a short period of time just before sunrise or after sunset, when the sun is obscured below the horizon, and a blue glow is cast through the sky. This happens throughout the year, but for me, it is most memorable on a December evening here on the East Coast.

With no direct light source as the sun dips away, everything feels a little softer and slower, which is something I think I value especially in the month of December. And even though this period of time slips away so quickly, it almost always stops me in my tracks.

I think this is historically a month that I have found difficult to navigate. As a child, although I do remember believing in the magic of the Christmas season, I also remember feeling deeply overwhelmed by the month. I have carried those anxieties and grief into adulthood and worked hard to unwind the knotted up string of lights that lives in my heart.

And I don’t want you to think I am Scrooge or in need of a visit from a ghost, but I think that grief is one of the most human emotions and experiences that we all have in common. To push it down doesn’t serve you, to pretend that grief and love can’t co-exist is simply not true.

But as I sit here in the warmth under twinkly lights adorning my tree, my heart is heavy.

And still—it is held.

Held by the steady breath of a sleeping dog, by the soft crackle of burning wood, by the brief kindness of a sky turning blue before night fully arrives. The Blue Hour doesn’t ask me to be joyful or resolved. It only asks me to be present. To notice. To sit still long enough for something gentle to pass through me.

Maybe that’s the beauty of a slow moment: it doesn’t fix what hurts, but it makes room for it. It reminds me that even in seasons of grief, there are small pockets of tenderness waiting to be witnessed. And sometimes, that is more than enough.

Subscribe now

My grief is an ever moving object that I dance with throughout life. Grief of missing my brother, grieving the goals I feel that I haven’t met, grieving the friendships that have faded away… As I have gotten older, I have become more comfortable with my grief, in the understanding it as a human experience.

As I was preparing to write my musings on my favorite time of day, I stumbled upon a Substack from , titled “Grief Notes”. This is a collection of one-minute voice notes from a group of individuals, all sharing sound portraits of love, loss, and memory. An act of remembrance, and sharing grief and love together.

“Our culture is obsessed with individuality. Like when people say that no snowflake is the same… but if you zoom out, and take it all in, they’re all kind of the same. We share in more than we think. We all just want more time with the people we love. And when they’re gone, we all miss them terribly.”

-Chance Marshall, Grief Notes

While I haven’t done a monthly roundup of book, music, or television roundups in quite a while, this is my December recommendation. Take care of yourself this holiday season, and I can’t wait to see what 2026 has to offer.

Hugs.

—Mads

Though I am still early in the stages of drafting and writing, I have already built a community of creatives who help inspire me and push me forward. With their support, I took the plunge and made a new social media account completely dedicated to my writing.

While starting at 0 followers felt like a dreadful place to be, the reality is that it is a fresh start. A clean slate and a blank canvas. An opportunity to share these special moments from my journey, while also learning prioritizing some boundaries around social media and doom scrolling.

If you feel so included, I welcome you to join me on my other channels to follow along my journey. The drafting, the doubt, the small triumphs, the Substack ramblings, and every glimmer of inspiration that nudges me forward.

All links 💌

Can’t wait to stay in touch with you. More to come.

-Mads

It is a difficult spot to navigate. When I know I have so much to feel thankful for, and so many things that fill my life with joy—but I am drowning in sadness. In the feeling overwhelmed and alone. In the feeling like I can’t bring those feelings to anyone because “How could she be sad when she has everything?”.

I’ve been cursed with this nagging sense of burden since I was a child. I always felt that my emotions were a bit too big to handle, and if I didn’t tamper them down, I would only hurt other people. The glass child, the fixer, the eldest daughter, the sensitive soul.

It has caused me a great deal of hardship in navigating my life as an adult. In friendships, relationships, and my family. But I am working on it. And I continue to show up and work on myself and I guess that is all you can really do.

Anyways, my TikTok algorithm knew I was depressed and has fed me Little Women edits to Pheobe Bridgers songs, poetry about losing yourself and the people around you, and of course the sprinkled in Hamilton edit to keep me sane.

But then I stumbled upon a TikTok account that stopped me in my tracks, and reminded me of so many of the things that I am working towards. And in another life I may have said, “I read this poem at a coffee shop,” but that would be lying—I read this on a TikTok after a 4 hour doom scroll during a Sunday depression nap, but it woke me up in a way.

So all credits to Ride The Wave for this one.

“Right now you may feel stuck in some sadness. But one day this chapter will just be a memory. You’ll look back and see how far you’ve come. How strong you’ve been, how you keep moving forward even when it was hard. No matter what happens, you can handle it. You matter so much. And you are so loved. I am so proud of you.”

It felt like words I would say to anyone I loved. Words I have said to my friends when they were in crisis. Or when they had lost hope.

But words that I didn’t ever say to myself. And why wouldn’t I show up for myself in the same way?

Circling back to my birthday, I was afraid of turning 30. I think there is a part of me that is still sad and feeling like I didn’t meet the milestones that I thought I would by this point. But everyone I spoke with told me it would be the year that changed my life. But they didn’t tell me that it would also be the year that I learned to prioritize myself, and show up for myself to give myself the happiest future.

So here I am, turning towards myself in the mirror and offering love and appreciation. And recognizing that each moment of happiness and pain has lead me here. And each heartbreak, friendship, moment of laughter, and shed tear, has made me who I am.

And while I will continue to show up for my people and continue to learn how to be a better friend, I will also learn how to be better to myself.

This month, I am participating in , challenging myself to write every single day. I joined two writers groups to get connected with new people who are working on their craft, and registered for two literary related events by myself to push myself out of my comfort zone.

There was no real reason behind this Substack, except for talking to myself. So Madi, I am proud of you. And I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you.

And to anyone else out there struggling. I hope you can give yourself grace, and give the people in your life grace too.

And call your therapist, because no one is going to check your TikTok reposts.

Most of the moments leave me with the feeling right as your rollercoaster cart reaches the top of the climb, your stomach is in knots as you know what is about to come. The other moments have been in the drop, the free-falling, unable to catch your breath, tears streaming from your eyes. And then there are the slow-moments. Laughing as your cart comes to a stop, looking at your friend whose hand you are clinging to, and catching your breath.

My problem? I don’t do well with the slow moments. There is something int he way that my brain is wired that as soon as things slow down, I am filled with guilt. What is next? What am I missing? Whose birthday did I forgot?

Blame it on the eldest daughter in me or my Moon being in Taurus, or some other personality disorder that TikTok will diagnosis me with at some point, but I just don’t know how to give myself a break. Hence every time I have ever experienced burnout because I push, and push, and push, and push some more, until I have somehow buried myself so deeply I don’t know how to get out.

I have a confession, I’m not going to be able to complete my 30 Before 30 bucket list. And the best part? I’m not mad about it.

I made that list as a way to have some fun things to accomplish over the course of a few months that I knew my emotions were going to be on edge. But then life happened, and my list of things that I needed to do grew, and that list became something I was dreading.

That defeats the entire damn purpose of that list. Defeats the goal of finding things that bring me joy, and living a life that leaves me feeling really fulfilled.

So I am giving myself grace to slow down. To find a different way to do things. To find a way to live that makes me happy, because that is the entire point.

It’s funny how sometimes it takes me writing it down, and reading it again, to recognize that I am allowed to do these things. But I know that my life is going to require some really conscious effort to balance the good and the heavy, and if I don’t take the slow moments of laughter and joy, or even quiet and calm, there is no way I will be able to keep riding the rollercoaster.

Anywhooooo, I am still chipping away because they are things that make me happy, but just removing the stress and timeline. So if you still want to eat oysters with me (Abagail, I’m looking at you) I am down to live a really full life.

So what else am I up to besides skipping over existential meltdowns, you ask?

I’m preparing to take a reading break to fully dive into my manuscript. Something happened about a week ago, where two new characters danced into my mind, and I wasn’t able to let them go. Normally when this happens I try to jot down some details about them, close the door for now, and resume what I was working on.

But these two.. They just kept knocking at my door. And suddenly, there was a new Pinterest board, a Spotify playlist, and a world being built.

This came at the same time that my other story seemed to.. vanish. I still feel that some day I will go back to that story, because it feels so engraved in my heart, but for now we are packing her up into a neat little Google Drive folder and setting her aside to make room for L&G because I just need a little more time with them.

Even giving myself the thirty minutes right now, to ramble into the Substack abyss, has helped me slow down and reset a bit.

Before my reading break, I am lucky enough to have two ARC’s from some of my favorite authors to dive into. These books should be on your radar, so I’m linking them below. I’m lucky enough to be so inspired by both of these authors.

1. Long Story Short (Merrymount Book 3) by Ila Sikorski - releases November 18

2. The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet Book 1) by R. Phillips - releases September 17

And I would be remised if I didn’t take a moment to share my countdown to Taylor Swift’s new album, The Life of a Showgirl, releasing ONE WEEK before my 30th birthday. I will be making this your problem, and my personality for the year to come. (PS - Taylor, if you are reading this… Congrats on your engagement!)

Until then, 1989 has been on repeat to get me hyped up for another Max Martin and Shellback masterpiece. From every teaser, I am so excited for that style production with the literary storytelling of Folklore.

My final special August shout-out.. I don’t know when the tradition started, but there is a small farm stand that sells Gladiolus cuts every August. One day a few years ago, Tom stopped on his way home and got me one. There was something about the vibrant color paired with the delicate petals, and the whimsy of a farmstand in our small town with the scraps of recycled newspaper to wrap the stems, that brought me so much joy. It is truly the little things that become the most special moments.

As always, happy to yap here. If anything I know that some day when I have finished a full novel, I can look back and see where I was at through each adventure, and really have a full picture of the journey. For now, I am going to enjoy the rest of August’s fleeting moments as they bleed into Fall, and keep living a life that brings me joy.

If you take anything from this, I hope you also give yourself some grace to slow down. Life is far too short, and the things that really matter are right in front of you.

-Mads

PS - There are at least two Easter Eggs about my current work in progress here, Mother taught me best.

This July was a big one for me. I chipped away on a few items on my 30 before 30 list, celebrated a very special couple at their oceanside wedding, packed a picnic to enjoy at my favorite beach with the four generations to celebrate Gram’s birthday, danced the night away at a Shania Twain concert, and most notably, started a brand new career adventure.

I think I’ve approached each July a little differently over the last eight years. Some years the sadness was too heavy that I found myself wading through the humid haze of the month kind of aimlessly. When I was sitting down today to write my July recap, I was thinking about my brother a lot and how this year felt a little different for me. I wasn’t filling my July with activities to forget about the grief and sadness, instead I frequently thought about Seth in these really light and happy moments, and finally felt some peace.

Before writing, I caught up on a few articles that I had set aside this week as I prepared for the anniversary of his passing, and I read ’s most recent — about keeping grief close — and it felt like that special moment of serendipity where I was receiving exactly the right message when I needed it the most.

“I’ve learned over the past few years that my grief is proof of the existence of the people and places I’ve loved, and so of course I want to live alongside it. It’s shaped like them, it feels like them, it holds our memories. It breathes like them. It holds my hand when I need it most, without even asking. The worst thing about grief, I think, is that you can’t go back to the root of the feeling. I’ll never be in those rooms again, in those moments. Grief stays in the past tense, even when it’s right next to you.”

This sentiment really resonated with me and the realization hit that the years that I spent pushing away the grief, or even the anger and sadness, weren’t doing me any justice. I will still grieve Seth on every missed birthday, when another year rolls around that he wasn’t apart of, when I pickup my phone because I want to call him.. but while that grief is real, there are also so many lessons that he is still teaching me.

So tonight I’ll drink a canned beverage that Seth most definitely would have made a disgusted face at, but also asked me to buy him a 12 pack the next time I went to the grocery store. Tomorrow, I will look back at some of our special memories and find a reason to laugh and smile. And in a week, I will still miss him — but I will keep living my life, embracing every moment, and following my dreams that I can’t wait to tell him about some day.

I have a lot of photos that I hold close to my heart, but this one is perfect for my July roundup. So many special memories during the summer time in our Grandparents pool, early morning trips to the beach, nature walks in the woods.. I’ll cherish these forever.

Now that you’ve listened to my musings, lets wrap this up like I do every month.

Music

I won’t even try to lie but yet another month has come and gone where I played the Hamilton soundtrack on repeat. Part of it is probably because I am trying to get tickets to see the Touring Company in Boston in September, but the other part is just because nothing gets you through a long day quite like this soundtrack.

When I am not being an obnoxious (read: charming, insightful, charismatic) theater kid, I have also bene on a major Olivia Dean kick. I have been holding off on sharing the title of my current work in progress, but I might need to change the playlist title to something sneaky so I can share that with you. Anyways, know that this song was an instant add to it.

Movies/TV

I can’t decide if it’s what I love or fear most about TikTok, but this app is so very influential. Anyways, I saw five too many fan edits of Olivia Pope and Fitz (I know I am literally a decade late) but I finally started Scandal on Netflix.

Books

If you had told me Marco had a mullet, I would have prioritized this book months ago. Jokes aside, I am so absolutely delighted to finally be reading 32 Days in May by . The raw emotion, the banter, the emotional depth and beautiful found family? This is literally a the recipe to making a favorite book of mine. If you haven’t already done so, pick this one up.

Thanks as always for reading, for supporting me, and for letting my yap into the void. I would be lost without the people who have supported me through my darkest days — and I’d be remised if I didn’t share the reminder that you matter, you are loved, and you are needed.

Eh-hem, do hear that? “Salt air, and the rust on your door”, she whispers creepily into the wind. August is right around the corner and I’m sending all of my August girlies a big squeeze.

Until next time.

XX

-Mads

We are officially halfway through the year - and if we are splitting the year in half, Act 2 is my favorite. There is something transitional about this time of year and even the moments that feel heavy come with a little extra momentum to make it up the hill.

I’ve spent a few of my recent Substack’s chatting about how I am feeling the weight of many commitments, expectations, and self-doubt on my shoulders. And while I haven’t shaken off these feelings in the last month, I want to slow down for a moment and take track of the things that I am grateful for.

In late May, my great grandmother was admitted to the hospital. Moments like this always put things in perspective. How fragile life is, what really matters, how to find joy in the little moments.. After being home for just a few weeks, we were able to take my great gram out to celebrate her 91st birthday. I sat at a table with some wonderful family members - which included myself, my mom, my gram, and my great grandmother. Four generations of love, laughter, tears, moments shared, anger, lessons learned, and trust. It doesn’t go over my head that I am most fortunate to have the opportunity to sit with them around a table.

Through therapy and a lot of self-reflection, I have realized many things about myself. Some of those are the reason for my monthly rundowns here on Substack, others are hidden within the deeper reason of why I felt like I needed to compete this 30 Before 30 List. If we’re being honest, most of them are burying their head in the sand to avoid me approaching them.

I do feel like they all come back to my sense of self and wanting to wake up on my 91st birthday and feel like I led a life that I was proud of. To know that the people who are sitting at my table have loved me through every chapter. And most of all, to have chosen myself in every moment.

These post feels extra ramble for my usual musings, but I think that is where my head is at. I know that there was more to my previous thought, but the wonderful thing about driving this bus, is that I get to pull it over and stop for now. And I get to be proud of myself for setting aside the 30 minutes in my insanely busy schedule to drink a glass of wine and yap at the computer. That’s the whole. damn. point.

Music

Easily musically influenced by TikTok snippets, and Audrey Hobert is living rent free in my head.

And I know we already discussed how it would be a Lorde Summer. While I have some new favorites to give Melodrama prancing vibes, like What Was That and If She Could See Me Now, the lyrics in Clearblue are wrapped into my veins in a way that I still haven’t figured out how to explain.

Books

I am slowly busting out of my fear of driving to new places by myself. Last month I took a solo road trip to Cambridge on a Tuesday night to celebrate the release of In the Stars Rewritten by . The event was moderated by Ila Sikorski aka . Nothing could really beat having the opportunity to read such a beautiful work of heart that your bestie wrote, then getting to watch them lift each other up, and create such a wonderful community. I am endlessly proud of both of these amazing authors who I am lucky enough to call my pals.

TV/Movies

I finally started Severance, which now upon my initial rambling reflection of choices and being in control of your life, makes a lot more sense. I am enjoying it so far, but think I will need to do a full watch through once I finish because my brain feels like mush.

More yaps to come soon, and hopefully some updates on things that I cross of my 30 Before 30 List.

Go hug someone you haven’t seen in awhile and have a glass of limeade.

XX

-Mads

I have a lot of anxiety surrounding all the mountains I haven’t climbed yet. There have been so many moments in my life that I rushed through and wished away, all in hopes of making it to that next mountain.

So I can’t help but feel like thirteen-year-old Jenna Rink sitting on her closet floor wishing for the next thing, if only because I feel like I won’t be happy until I meet a certain milestone. And I don’t want to wish time away, when I’ve seen firsthand how fleeting life can be.

13 Going on 30 was a movie that was on repeat throughout my childhood, and probably one of the pillars of my obsession with the Rom-Com genre. Watching this movie as an adult was a different experience though - and I took away some lessons that I didn’t realize as a tween watching it. Even if I have always wished a little bit to be thirty, flirty, and thriving.

Leave it to me to be extra dramatic about announcing this little list, but I have always had a flare for the dramatic. Birthdays always give me this weird sense of dread, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint the why behind it. I’m always a little hyper-sensitive and this year is no different, except the feelings seem to have started earlier than usual.

To take control of that, I want to take one more lesson from Jenna Rink and not wish the time away anymore. And even though there are things that I haven’t done, there are so many things that I have accomplished. I want to celebrate those things and celebrate who I am. I have seen the lowest and hardest moments imaginable and found my way through them, dealt with unthinkable loss, tried new things, started over and over again... These are all things that have helped make me who I am, and that is someone I am proud of.

Okay - who is playing Vienna by Billy Joel?

To help ensure that I enter this next decade with my heart and cup full, I am challenging myself to do 30 things before October 10th. Some of them are very small, some will push me out of my comfort zone, and they are all sure to help me live in the moment and find happiness.

I’m excited to provide updates through this process and drag some of my friends and family into checking these items off with me. Here’s to living intentionally and finding happiness everywhere I can. (I’ll stop yapping for now…)

1. Write 30,000 words of my manuscript (AND not delete them)
   
   

2. Swim during a rainstorm
   
   

3. Watch the sunrise over the ocean
   
   

4. Finish a puzzle
   
   

5. Say “yes” to an unexpected invitation
   
   

6. Host a craft party
   
   

7. Complete a 30-day fitness challenge
   
   

8. Take a cooking or mixology class
   
   

9. Go on a solo day trip somewhere I’ve never been
   
   

10. Donate blood
    
    

11. Ride the MS Mount Washington on Lake Winnipesaukee
    
    

12. Spend the day with my Gram perfecting her pie crust recipe
    
    

13. Write and send more snail mail to my friends and family
    
    

14. Go to a drive-in movie
    
    

15. Complete 30 random acts of kindness
    
    

16. Have a picnic in the park
    
    

17. Try oysters
    
    

18. Go line dancing
    
    

19. Host a themed dinner
    
    

20. Unplug for 48 hours — no phone or social media
    
    

21. Volunteer somewhere I’ve never volunteered before
    
    

22. See a play or musical I’ve never seen
    

23. Ride the Mountain Coaster at Gunstock Mountain
    
    

24. Make a time capsule to open on my 40th birthday
    
    

25. Attend a writing workshop or retreat
    
    

26. Get another tattoo
    
    

27. Donate 30 books to Little Free Libraries in my area
    
    

28. Share a “30 Before 30” reading list of books that have changed my life
    

29. Create a “Top 30 Songs of My Life” playlist
    
    

30. Make a list of the 30 most meaningful films in my life

Wish me luck! XX

-Mads

How am I doing? Well thanks for asking, but life lately has felt like a constant hustle - moving from one social event to another, responsibilities piling up on my plate, and all the things that bring me happiness and peace falling to the wayside. Joy is just outside of my grasp, but I am pinned beneath the expectations and fear of disappointing other people by putting myself first.

And how frustrating to know that happiness is within reach but not knowing how to get to it? Or not being brave enough to push the weight off and move ahead..

Anywayssssss.. May was over in the blink of an eye and I truly can’t believe it is already June and I am writing my May recap.

Even as I sit here writing about how heavy my life feels, I then feel guilty because I know how truly blessed I am in many aspects of my life. But the truth is that both things can exist together and it doesn’t make one less significant.

Although I am not dreading it, I think there is a weird sense of dread with my 30th birthday quickly approaching. There are so many things that I thought I would have figured out by this time in my life that I am not even close to completing. (Hello, you - my manuscript sitting unfinished… I’M LOOKING AT YOU!!)

I’ve been tossing around the idea of some sort of bucket list - a Thirty Before Thirty, to help get me through the next months and into this next chapter of my life. Nothing crazy, but maybe some small milestones and adventures I could cross off. Some motivation to keep moving and to find happiness as I am starting to spiral in this pit of anxiety.

This is probably somehow tied to the fact that I watched The Life List while I was in the middle of my spiral, but that damage is already done so buckle up.

I’m thinking of things like… spend the day writing in a cafe, drop off books to a little free library, watch the sunrise on the ocean, swim during a rainstorm, write 30,000 words in my manuscript... Things that are attainable but still maybe pushing me outside of my comfort zone a little tiny bit.

In the best turn of events after another month of watching 5000 TikTok’s picking apart Easter Eggs, Taylor Swift announced that she had finally purchased the rights to the master recordings of her first six albums. I know some people look at it as an extremely parasocial relationship, but this was a win that I felt in my soul. And with that said, Reputation has been on repeat. These have always been my top two Rep songs and always find a way to wrap themselves so deeply around my heart and mind every single time I hear them.

May was an all-time quiet reading month. While I am lucky enough to have an ARC of In the Stars Rewritten by , I haven’t had enough time to sit down and finish it up. About 50% through and absolutely devouring it. Pre-order on Amazon or join us at Lovestruck on June 24th for her release party!

My one completed read this month was the audio of Left of Forever by and I was left sobbing the biggest happy tears.

I knew I was going to be a goner as soon as I heard “She’s still a Byrd” in Savor it. My hope and wish is that someday my words resonate with readers the way that Tarah’s have from the very first time I picked up one of her books.

“I grew up with my great love, so I think maybe my heart took shape around his..”

I don’t have any good shows or movies to report back on, because I fear that every time I sit on the couch, I simply fall asleep.

Here’s to hoping that June brings me better health, some motivation to find happiness again, and for these constant rain clouds in New Hampshire to turn to sunshine.

-Mads

To be fully transparent - this post was sitting in my draft folder as a March rundown - but March hit me like a fast train, and I am still trying to find my footing on the tracks. I had high expectations for this year, but now entering the fifth month with none of my goals in sight, it is hard not to get discouraged.

Which brings me back to why I am standing in front of you, holding my heart in a little blog post..

I don’t have a lot of expectations from posting here, but I am looking for a creative outlet. And my anxious eldest daughter x people pleasing tendencies THRIVE under an actual commitment - so this is me committing to posting at least one monthly wrap up post for you to read. Or to ignore. Or maybe send to your friend who is having some of the same struggles. (Did I also mention that I am a Libra, there will be a lot of validation seeking here - I am working on it.)

Reader, you may be questioning my tactics here. “One post a month? That is nothing!” they scream at me from the sidelines. But I am also leading with grace this year, and I have been setting the bar for myself way too high - and feeling like the world is crumbling away from my feet when I can’t make the jump. This isn’t fair or productive, and certainly is conducive to helping me find my writing spark again.

So maybe my silly rambling Substack thoughts will help turn the nonsense ramblings and love confessions in my notes app. And maybe I will share some of those snippets here with you!

I hope you are prepared for a Lorde summer - I know I am!!

Great Big Beautiful Life by Emily Henry

Or the Great BBL as I have been so fondly calling it. It is no secret that I am an Emily Henry fangirl, and reading this broke through the slump I was feeling myself slipping into. I know it is all over Instagram and Booktok, but if you haven’t already added it to your list, it is a must read.

“Alice Scott is an eternal optimist still dreaming of her big writing break. Hayden Anderson is a Pulitzer-prize winning human thundercloud. And they’re both on balmy Little Crescent Island for the same reason: To write the biography of a woman no one has seen in years--or at least to meet with the octogenarian who claims to be the Margaret Ives. Tragic heiress, former tabloid princess, and daughter of one of the most storied (and scandalous) families of the 20th Century.”

And he is a thundercloud in the same way that Gus Everett is, for all my Beach Read lovers who aren’t convinced yet to pick it up. *Slams credit card on table!* SOLD!

The 20th Anniversary re-release of Pride and Prejudice has brought me more joy than anything. My entire TikTok FYP being edits of Mr. Darcy marching through a foggy field, tearing up in a rainstorm, and FLEXING HIS HAND?

I don’t know how anyone would have ever expected that I would be normal about love stories when I fell so deeply in love with these characters as a teen.

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.”

See dear reader, I am already feeling more inspired. Plus the three minute thunderstorm we just experienced lit my soul on fire - even though my boyfriend said he didn’t want to recreate the scene from Sweet Home Alabama with me (I just meant the kissing in the rain, not getting zapped by lightning!")

Until next time, wishing you a very happy writing, reading, coffee drinking, and flower field frolicking month of May.

-Mads

I’ve drafted and thrown out approximately 62 different ideas for stories, character descriptions, Pinterest boards, and playlists. I finally decided to stop permanently deleting my ideas when I felt discouraged. Instead, I made a folder—affectionately named “Dump It to Crumpit”—where I could hide them from eyesight but hopefully revisit them someday. When my future book is dedicated to Jim Carrey and The Grinch, you’ll all know why first.

Over this last year, I have been dealing with some of my own mental health struggles, which contributed to the worst case of writer’s block I have ever experienced. It took a long time to realize that no matter how much I put myself down, got mad that the words weren’t flowing, or compared my journey to other people’s, that wasn’t going to fix the problem.

Since coming to that realization, I have been taking the time to slow down and prioritize myself. Honestly, I’m still pulling myself out of this little dark pit I found myself in, but I do see the light at the end of the tunnel. And now, I want to share my writing journey with you.

I still don’t know where Ctrl + Alt + Delusions will take me, but I’m excited to connect with other writers, share snippets of my work-in-progress, and talk about the tools I’m using to write and the things that inspire me. You truly will have a front-row seat to the inner workings of my brain, and I don’t know whether to say, “You’re welcome” or “I’m so sorry.”

Anyways, there is nothing I love more than sharing the things that brought me joy or inspired me - so here is a roundup of some of my recent faves.

favorite recent reads

• Promise Me Sunshine by Cara Bastone (The TikTok hype for this one was real. A raw look at grief, friendship, and love. I will be recommending this one for a long time!)

• PS: I Hate You by Lauren Connolly (Another lovely story that touches upon grief, second chances, and finding happiness.)

• Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts by Kristyn J. Miller (Such a lighthearted contemporary romance with one of my favorite FMC’s from any recent read.)

upcoming reads i am excited for

• In the Stars Rewritten by Kim Swizz (I had the honor of reading her debut novel Barefoot Lake early - I can’t wait to revisit Wilcox Grove. Releases June 24, 2025 and you can preorder now!)

• Long Story Short by Ila Sikorski (Getting to venture back to Merrymount for Ila’s third book is so exciting - Releasing November 18, 2025, there is still time to read For the Hope of It All and Daylight and preorder Book #3.)

songs on repeat

I guess that is all I have to share right now - but I’ll be back soon. For now, make sure you are subscribed to be notified when I post and help support my work.

-mads