Grief lives here, but so does joy, hope, and faith.
C.G. Thomas
Let me just be real—sometimes, life will knock you upside the head so hard you’re not even sure which end is up. If you’d told me a few years ago that I would lose my job, sell my house, move to Houston, and all the while be carrying the grief of losing my baby, I probably would have said you were crazy. Yet here I am. Sitting in a new city, in a new space, somehow feeling lighter and more hopeful than I thought possible. I didn’t get here overnight, and I definitely didn’t get here without a fight.
When Everything Changed All At Once
If you’ve ever felt like your world was unraveling at every seam, I see you. When I lost my job, it wasn’t just about money or status. It was the gut punch of having my routine and purpose yanked out from under me. Not long after, I had to make one of the hardest decisions of my life: sell my home. Not just any home—the house where my son lived, loved, and where his presence still lingered in the hallways. Letting go of that space meant walking away from the last physical comfort I had left.
Then came Houston. New city, new everything. The friends, routines, and comfort I’d found in DFW suddenly felt like a world away. Honestly, it was terrifying. There was this wild mix of hope and dread—I knew I needed a change, but starting over from ground zero was so much scarier than I’d imagined.
Let me also pause right here and say this: not every struggle in life is about finances. Yes, I had substantial savings, and that made things easier on the surface. I didn’t have to lose sleep over bills or worry where my next meal was coming from, and that’s something I’m grateful for every single day. But just because I wasn’t struggling financially doesn’t mean I wasn’t struggling, period. The emotional toll, the heartbreak, the sense of loss and being uprooted—none of that gets solved by a padded bank account. My battle just wore a different face, and I truly believe that every transition, no matter what it looks like on the outside, comes with its own brand of hard.
And here’s a truth that’s hard to admit: From the outside, it probably looked like I wasn’t struggling. I had savings, my family showed up in ways I can never repay, and I never had to wonder where my next meal was coming from. That’s a blessing I don’t take for granted, believe me. But my hardship didn’t look like the typical kind, and that sometimes made it feel invisible, even to me. Just because your struggle doesn’t fit a certain mold doesn’t make it any less real.
Messy Faith and Quiet Gratitude
I wish I could say I marched through all this with perfect faith—but my faith got messy. Some days I was angry, some days I was numb, and some days all I could say was, “Lord, I need you.” Still, I held onto that promise that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord. That truth kept me putting one foot in front of the other, even when my heart just wanted to curl up and hide.
I didn’t realize how much I’d been carrying until gratitude started sneaking back in. I look back on selling my house and now I see—it was never about the walls or the roof. The memories, the love for my son, the essence of who he was, are etched in my spirit forever. Moving to Houston brought its own gifts, even though they took a little while to reveal themselves. New friendships forming, new routines giving me rhythm, and a new sense of possibility settling in.
Stepping Into My Sweet Spot
Now, I find myself in this sweet spot. Not because everything’s perfect—or even close—but because I rediscovered balance. I laugh hard and often, cherish my friends (old and new), and dare myself to dream crazy big dreams again. I don’t pretend that grief just walks away quietly; some days it’s loud and insistent. But it’s no longer the only voice I hear.
I learned that growing and grieving can happen at the same time. Losing my child is a pain that never fully goes away, but it doesn’t eclipse every part of me anymore. It’s woven into who I am, sure, but so is joy, hope, and the unbreakable faith that I’m exactly where I need to be.
For Anyone Still Searching
If you’re walking through a season that feels like too much—if you’re starting over, missing someone you can’t get back, or just tired from the weight of it all—I hope my story gives you a little bit of light. Hard times don’t always look the same, and you don’t need anyone’s permission to feel the full weight of your own.
Here’s what I know for sure: even heartbreak can be the beginning of hope. You don’t have to rush through your feelings or have it all together to find your own sweet spot. You will find a balance again—even if it looks different from the life you had before. I’m walking proof.
So with a heart that’s still healing but wide open, I’m choosing joy, choosing growth, and giving myself permission to love this new chapter. May you find your sweet spot too—one rich with friendship, big dreams, deeper love, and the kind of hope that shines through it all. I hope you’ve enjoyed your view inside the mind of Sugar Clark.
Be blessed!
