Shine On: How Loss, Love, and Grief Shaped the Healer I Became After It
It was the beginning of 2015 when my world cracked open again.
My beloved stepfather—one of the kindest, truest humans I’ve ever known—passed away after a final, fatal heart attack. He was young. Too young. And though I sensed something was wrong, I couldn’t fully face how much he had been suffering. He didn’t want to “burden” us. He was a proud, capable Midwestern farm boy who handled everything. Until he couldn’t.
I’ve experienced deep grief before. My mother’s sudden death years earlier had already left an indelible mark on my soul. But this loss… this man… it undid me in a whole new way.
He wasn’t just a stepfather. He was magic.
From our first encounter—me scowling at him as a kid, him scowling right back without flinching—I liked him immediately. He didn’t play games. He saw me. He called me on my BS. And he loved me anyway.
He tamed my wild heart with laughter and presence.
He brought the holidays to life.
He played “Lord of the Rings” with me late into the night—arguing over who got to be Gandalf.
He gave me my first stuffed unicorn.
He made sure I had the boots I dreamed of for the barn and never questioned the seriousness of my love for horses.
He taught me to truly listen to music—Pink Floyd in particular—with headphones and a big poof of a beanbag chair as my sanctuary.
He didn’t lecture. He didn’t judge.
He simply got me.
Later in life, he’d lovingly refer to my horse as his “grandson.” He called out the truth with a twinkle in his eye. He loved with grace and fierceness.
And when he died… I didn’t want to go on.
The pain was primal.
I felt inconsolable, angry, lost.
Spiritual beliefs didn’t soften the grief—not at first. I didn’t want divine wisdom. I wanted him back. I wanted one more walk down the street together after brunch, one more hug, one more antique shop window to peer into side by side.
But here’s what I want to share with you…
Grief, when we allow it to move through us, and great challenges in general when we work through them, opens us to levels of transformation nothing else can.
The Alchemy of Pain
After my mother passed just 8 years before my step father, something in me broke open permanently. My connection with God wasn’t just conceptual anymore. It was embodied. I knew things beyond logic. My work with clients shifted overnight—what once was structured became divinely guided. More intuitive. More powerful.
After my stepfather’s passing, another deep shift occurred.
My confidence soared—not because I felt strong, but because I let myself be fully broken.
I didn’t numb out.
I didn’t bypass the pain.
I let it all move through me.
And from that raw, holy place, I was given gifts—clarity, creative power, deeper presence, even more potent transformation for the women I serve.
Why This Matters for You
The women I work with often come to me in deep pain—years or even decades of food addiction, body shame, self-sabotage, depression, relationship heartbreak, or feeling stuck in a life they no longer recognize.
And what I’ve learned is this:
The wound always carries the medicine.
Not in spite of it—but because of it.
Underneath every food craving, every pattern of self-abandonment or sabotage, there’s always a deeper emotional story. And often, there’s grief—unspoken, unacknowledged, unreleased. Whether from childhood, loss, betrayal, or simply the parts of us that never got to be fully seen or loved.
When we do the deeper healing—the subconscious work, the emotional release, the spiritual reconnection—everything begins to change.
Not just the food.
Not just the body.
But who you are.
Choose to Let It Change You
We live in a culture that fears emotion. That tells us to push through, numb out, or fix ourselves fast.
But I’ve found the opposite to be true.
When we let ourselves feel it all, we unlock the door to our greatest transformation.
The women I work with are not weak. They are courageous. They choose to stop running. They face their pain. And in doing so, they reclaim joy, vitality, creativity, and leadership in ways they never imagined possible.
I share my story with you not just to honor the man who helped shape my heart—but to remind you:
You don’t have to stay stuck in the cycle.
You don’t have to carry the weight of it all alone.
And you don’t have to keep believing the lie that you’re broken.
Your healing is not about perfection.
It’s about returning to the truth of who you are.
Pain isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of something sacred.
You just have to choose it.
With all my heart,
Sandy
Shine on, you crazy diamond.