Clear Reflections - Traci Breniser Wilson, MA LLP

11/22/2025

Reasons to be Grateful

11/14/2025

Are you familiar with the Spoon Theory by Christine Miserando?

11/11/2025

11/04/2025

Today's Metta:
“May I be joyful
May I be healthy
May I be safe
May I live with ease
May I be loving”

We need to practice this Metta/Loving Kindness now more than ever!

09/08/2025

09/03/2025

September is Su***de Prevention Month: The Ripple Effects of Su***de Sep 2 Written By Dr. Hasti Raveau September is Su***de Prevention Month:The Ripple Effects of Su***deStories, Science, & The Hope of ConnectionBy Dr. Hasti Raveau, PhD, LPFounder & CEOMan, oh man. That phrase has been on my heart a...

08/19/2025

In Denmark, empathy isn’t just encouraged — it’s part of the school curriculum. Every child from the age of 6 to 16 takes a weekly empathy class, known as ‘Klassens tid,’ where students learn to listen, share, and understand each other’s feelings. Introduced in 1993, this class is treated as essential as math or science, helping kids build stronger social skills, resolve conflicts, and prevent bullying before it starts. The focus is on creating supportive classrooms where students feel heard and connected, which many believe is one reason Denmark consistently ranks among the happiest and most socially cohesive countries in the world.

07/16/2025

Digital rendering of the planned completed campus. Image courtesy of Garrett’s Place Garrett’s Space, an Ann Arbor-based su***de prevention non-profit, will host its annual fundraiser, Go4GarrettsSpace, on Saturday, August 23rd at the Morris Lawrence Building on the Washtenaw Community College C...

07/15/2025

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07/13/2025

When "What to Do When I'm Gone" first appeared on my nightstand, I mistook it for another grief manual – one of those well-meaning but clinical guides to navigating loss. I couldn't have been more wrong. This extraordinary collaboration between mother Suzy Hopkins and daughter Hallie Bateman isn't just a book; it's a time capsule of love, a survival kit for the heart, disguised as an illustrated instruction manual.

The premise is deceptively simple: a mother writes instructions for her daughter on what to do after she dies, beginning with day one and stretching decades into the future. But within this framework unfolds something both practical and transcendent – a conversation about mortality that somehow avoids both sentimentality and coldness, landing instead in a territory of profound tenderness and unexpected humor.

Five elements make this work uniquely powerful:

1. The Alchemy of Daily Living
Hopkins doesn't offer abstract platitudes about grief; she gives concrete instructions. "Day 1: Get yourself out of bed. Make a cup of coffee and a simple breakfast..." These mundane tasks transform into sacred rituals, revealing how everyday actions carry us through impossible moments. The book's genius lies in recognizing that grief lives not just in big emotional moments but in figuring out how to make dinner when your heart is shattered.

2. The Wisdom of Practical Magic
Through Bateman's whimsical, heartfelt illustrations, even the most pragmatic advice becomes infused with meaning. A recipe for bread becomes a meditation on continuity; instructions for handling holidays become lessons in creating new traditions. The visual elements don't just complement the text – they create a third language that speaks directly to the part of us that processes loss beyond words.

3. The Grace of Imperfection
Perhaps most refreshingly, this isn't a mother's attempt to appear flawless from beyond the grave. Hopkins acknowledges her mistakes, her quirks, her humanity. This honesty creates space for the messy, complicated reality of mother-daughter relationships, offering permission to grieve the person who actually existed, not an idealized version.

4. The Architecture of Forward Movement
As the book progresses from days to years to decades, it maps the evolution of grief without demanding adherence to artificial stages. The timeline acknowledges both the acute pain that dominates early grief and the way loss eventually integrates into a new normal. This progression offers invaluable perspective when the newly grieving cannot imagine a future beyond their current pain.

5. The Inheritance of Joy
Woven throughout practical advice about death certificates and belongings is a profound philosophy about continuing to live joyfully. Hopkins doesn't just tell her daughter how to survive her death; she shows her how to thrive despite it. This legacy of resilience becomes perhaps the most meaningful inheritance a mother can leave.

This book accomplishes something remarkable: it transforms the universal fear of losing a parent into a celebration of the wisdom that endures beyond physical presence. Through its pages, Hopkins and Bateman reveal how death, while ending a life, cannot end the conversation between mother and daughter – a dialogue that continues through recipes shared, advice remembered, and love expressed in both grand gestures and ordinary moments.

For anyone with a mother, anyone who is a mother, or anyone who has loved and feared losing that love, this book isn't just a reading experience – it's a companion for the heart's most difficult journey.

GET BOOK: https://amzn.to/3IyGuJK

07/11/2025

07/02/2025

A few weeks ago, Matt and I went out to lunch at a beach restaurant. We ordered oysters. He got his exactly the way they were listed on the menu. I got mine with quite a few exceptions, and then apologized to the waitress for being difficult.

She looked at me and said, “You’re not difficult, darling. You are clear.”

And that got me thinking about what we call difficult women.

Remember that line in When Harry Met Sally when Sally/Meg Ryan is crying on the bed and says to Harry/Billy Crystal, “I’m difficult.” Or when we hear about actresses who ask for what they want and are labeled difficult?

I have it impressed in my psyche that asking for what I want means I am difficult. And that being difficult is not good. I should be nice. I should be easy. I should go along with what everyone else is eating, having, doing. (I don’t do that but there is still an underlying background queasiness. An apology on the tip of my tongue.)

From the time I was a child and saw the elephant in the living room — that my parents were unhappy, mean to each other, getting ready to divorce — and spoke up about it, I was told to be quiet. I was told that children should be seen and not heard.

And when I refused to keep dieting after gaining and losing so much weight, I was told that I was wrong. Not exactly difficult. More like crazy.

And when I speak up and say that is not funny after a joke that is mean, I get labeled difficult.

And when I don’t want to go where other people are going or eat what other people are eating or do what other people are doing, I am called difficult.

And when I confronted my breast surgeon because I was still in pain and asked her whether her resident closed the surgery, she was uncomfortable and I felt as if I was being difficult. Then I remembered that someone told me that being on my own side sometimes, often, makes people uncomfortable. That being labeled difficult is a catch-all phrase. Is a way that people throw off the discomfort of a woman speaking up.

The truth is that what I am is clear and being clear is difficult for many people.