Originally published on Dr. Z's Two Cents, January 25, 2026.
Hello again, Dearest of Blog Enthusiasts!
I would like to start with a general acknowledgement of my sometimes painfully embarrassing (to me) humanness...
I fell away from my initial goal of posting consistently over the summer, and then renewed my commitment to myself and you all in autumn-ish...and then fell ALL the way off as winter blitzed its way in and 2025 came to a close. BOOOOO (yes, I just boo'ed myself).
Now that my anxious badass part got to say her piece; hi there, Rachel-in-real-time, here.
Let's take a quick pause.
1. content advisory- in this piece, I discuss grief & loss. please be mindful of how this lands with you and allow yourself to not finish this post if you're not in a place to read about grief and loss; no hard feelings, I promise!
When loud emotions visit me, my beautifully wired, pattern-recognizing, dopamine-seeking, neurodivergent brain tries to intellectualize my feelings to protect me from being overwhelmed by physical sensations commonly associated with feeling one's feelings. (read: tears, snot, heart racing, shallow breathing, sweating, muscle twitches, etc.)
Over the years, my brain accepted the following statement about emotions to be true:
So long as I logically understand the reasoning behind my feelings, that means I
have correctly learned how to "feel my feelings."
SPOILER ALERT! While understanding the origins of our emotions can be incredibly helpful for context and to satisfy the insatiable curiosity of neurodivergent minds, it is not a sustainable method for emotional wellbeing...ask me how I know.
* insert wink & finger guns *
I just took a deep breath, and I invite you to take a deep breath as well.
Anyone else stretch their neck afterward? I did, then heard and felt delightful little pops of relief around my jaw. Phew!
Now, where was I? Let me scroll up...and not stay there!
*a nod to the chorus of DJ Khalid's production of "all I do is win"...
IYKYK, and if you don't know, that's okay, too.*
Okay, I'm back.
Look at me showing up in 2026. After 2025? Many of us deserve compensation. For what, you may be asking yourself? YOU name it. We all have our reasons.
How has 2026 been treating you?
January is a complicated month for me.
On the one hand, my favorite husband was born in the late 1900s (#sorrynotsorry to call you out like that, babe...especially since I'm older than you!).
I mean, can I really hate on a month that brought the arrival of my soulmate into existence?
NOPE.
On the other hand, in January of 2003, 2004, and 2024, the physical incarnations of my paternal grandfather, a beloved friend and high school classmate, and my mother, the woman who birthed me, ceased to exist as I knew them.
Each loss impact(ed) me in different ways.
2003- The relationship I had with my paternal grandfather was estranged at best and excruciatingly heavy nonetheless. His name was rarely mentioned, and when it was, the conversation was quickly shutdown and redirected.
Despite several years of no contact, at the age of 16, out of the blue, I remember receiving a phone call from him, which happened to be within a couple months of his departure date.
At 16, holding the receiver of a CORDED telephone with my grandfather on the other end, I remember feeling totally flustered. Feeling SO flustered in fact, I needed to remind myself to pay attention to the voice on the other end of the phone.
During that phone call, which lasted a few minutes at most, consisted mainly of my grandfather talking at me; expressions of sorrow, lamenting lost time, and, a strong close with a request for forgiveness from me, for the damage he caused.
*this type of loss can be characterized as a type of disenfranchised grief, although 16 year old me didn't know that at the time. For additional information on what disenfranchised grief can look like, feel free to check out: https://www.verywellmind.com/disenfranchised-grief-definition-causes-impact-and-coping-5221901
2004- High school senior me was introduced to unexpected loss in the eye of the storm no parent should have to endure; the death of a child.
My friend Erin had just turned 18 the previous November. She was the first of our friend group to turn the big 1-8, the rest of us were spring and summer babies. Erin was so excited to attend NIU to study elementary education that fall.
Erin is still one of the kindest souls I've ever met; she loved the color pink, spending time with friends, and this new band called The Darkness and their (very cringey to me at the time) single "I Believe in a Thing Called Love." The music video is a cinematic SciFi-esque masterpiece, which happened to be directed by muppets (allegedly), who of course were also in charge of the general aesthetic, costumes & set design.
I remember being in the midst of finals week. I don't remember which class I was sitting in, but I do remember getting a text on my brick of a cell phone, telling me to come right to the museum (yep, I worked at a science museum in high school) when I was finished with my finals.
I've never done well with receiving vague information; it tends to send panic to each and every one of my nerve endings, with good reason, apparently.
Once the majority of us were gathered at the museum, our supervisor confirmed the shocking news; Erin was gone. Because of an unknown heart condition triggered by excess caffeine consumption to power through finals, our dear friend was gone.
The caravans of teenagers who showed up at Erin's parents house that afternoon were received with such love, realness, and deep sadness. Her dad looked at us, sighed, and gave us all permission to say the quiet part out loud, "This. Sucks."
2024- my mother left four days after my husband's birthday. I am grateful to her for waiting. Mom had been ready to go for a long time, really since her mom departed in 2015. I think I thought I had also been ready for a long time, except I was not. Because the truth is, no matter how much we think we are prepared for certain universal losses, we humans just aren't.
[IMAGE FROM ORIGINAL POST]
Here we are, the last Sunday in January 2026. Despite the usual January slowdown, the collective we have already essentially made it a month into the new year.
We can do hard things. And we deserve COMPASSION for navigating the challenges that come with being a human existing in this time in history.
It would not be me if I did not also acknowledge the current FASCIST government boldly terrorizing American citizens for protesting the administration's ongoing and intensifying INHUMANE treatment of members of the HUMAN race, which is all of us, btw.
Government sanctioned violence is NEVER okay; especially for the countless Black and Brown folks whose names and lives do not receive the same attention from the powers that be, and who have been targeted since this country's inception.
Thank you for being here and continuing to do hard things.
What does it look like to show up in 2026? To show up with a willingness to see ourselves and the world around us through a loving lens, even on the most gut-wrenching and heartbreaking of days. When we create the possibility that love illuminates everything that is good, this is how we find the other helpers, and IS the reason we are stronger together.
In Solidarity,
Dr. Z