Welcome to Bone & Bloom: Where the Sacred, Strange, and Deeply Human Meet
Some corners of the internet are made to impress. This isn’t one of them.
I didn’t build Bone & Bloom to go viral.
I built it because I was drowning in performance and starving for presence.
Because I needed somewhere to put the grief, the rage, the stories, and the slow magic that didn’t fit neatly into anyone’s blueprint.
Hi. I’m Heather.
I’m a death doula and grief guide. A writer. An end-of-life educator.
I’m also someone who has lived with high-functioning anxiety since childhood, with a brain that never shuts up and a nervous system that’s always scanning for danger.
For years, I helped grow and run real estate teams and investment companies.
I was the one behind the curtain, managing, building, fixing, solving.
Grinding away my life to support other people’s dreams while my own body was falling apart.
I got good at making things happen, even as I slowly disappeared from my own life.
I have sat at the bedside of the dying.
I have cracked jokes at funerals and helped families navigate impossible choices.
And I’ve also stared at my ceiling at 3am, convinced that every weird sensation in my body was a death sentence.
I’ve walked through loss that changed me down to the bone.
I’ve dissociated, over-functioned, burned out, numbed out, and clawed my way back to myself more times than I can count.
I’m not here to give you steps, hacks, or spiritual bypasses.
I’m not here to coach you into becoming your highest self.
I’m here to tell the truth.
To write about what it means to be human when you’re anxious, grieving, overstimulated, neurodivergent, and still trying to live with intention.
Bone & Bloom is a space for that.
Not polished. Not optimized. Just honest.
It’s for the ones who are tired of pretending.
For the ones who know there has to be more, more depth, more truth, more being.
What Bone & Bloom Is + What You’ll Find Here
This space is part mirror, part map.
Bone & Bloom is where the things we don’t talk about get to breathe.
It’s where I write about death, not just the moment of it, but the slow, sacred ripple of it. The way it rearranges the living.
It’s where I write about grief in all its forms, not just who we’ve lost, but what we’ve had to leave behind: identities, dreams, versions of ourselves we outgrew or never got to be.
It’s about the messy, mystical, deeply human work of being alive while everything changes.
Here you’ll find:
Personal essays that don’t flinch from the raw parts
Reflections on death, dying, and the rituals we’ve lost
Thoughts on health anxiety, mental load, and nervous system survival
Tiny spells, sacred questions, and practical rituals for re-grounding
Deep dives into grief, caregiving, and the invisible labor of being “the strong one”
Notes on legacy, meaning, and how to live like your life is your own
I write for the ones who feel a little out of place. The ones who crave slowness but can’t stop spiraling. The ones who carry old wounds like ghost-maps inside them. The ones who want magic and messiness in the same breath.
Bone & Bloom isn’t just about surviving the hard things, it’s about tending to the life that grows in the cracks. It’s about honoring what breaks and what blooms after. It’s about choosing presence over productivity, meaning over momentum.
This is not a space for easy answers.
But it is a space for real ones.
If you want to explore your relationship to death, legacy, grief, and becoming, without the pressure to perform your healing, this might just be your corner of the internet.
Why It Matters + Invitation to Stay
We are living in a world that wants us numb, fast, and disconnected.
Grind until you break. Smile when you're dying inside. Swallow the truth if it’s uncomfortable. Shrink your grief, your rage, your weirdness, anything too human to monetize.
But I think we’re starving for the opposite.
For slowness.
For truth that doesn’t clean itself up first.
For conversations that touch death, legacy, and loss without flinching.
For spaces that hold grief without trying to fix it.
For nervous system honesty. For spiritual grit. For reminders that boundaries are love.
I don’t have all the answers.
But I know how to ask the questions that matter:
What does it mean to live well in a dying world?
How do we hold ourselves through change?
What legacy are we creating just by being who we are?
Where does it hurt - And what if that hurt is also an invitation?
This is the heart of what I explore here.
Grief and loss. Becoming and burnout.
Ritual and rage. Anxiety and healing.
The sacred, the strange, the wildly human.
I hope something in these words helps you soften, remember, or rage your way into deeper clarity.
You don’t have to agree with everything. You don’t have to be healed.
You just have to show up as you are.
If you’re not sure where to begin, start here:
The majority of what I share here is, and always will be, free.
Because I believe deeply in accessible care. In story as medicine. In truth that doesn’t hide behind a paywall.
I write for the public, for the curious, for the ones who land here at 2am with a lump in their throat and no one to talk to. You don’t need to pay to belong here.
If you do choose to support this space financially, know this:
You’re not just subscribing to a newsletter.
You’re helping me keep this space alive and deeply human.
Paid subscribers receive:
Access to downloadable PDFs, rituals, and guides
Invitations to private circles and live gatherings
First access to new offerings and courses
20% off digital products and classes
And if you become a Founding Member, you’ll receive the full bonus bundle Sacred Beginnings, plus my unending gratitude.
Whether you’re here to read, reflect, subscribe, or simply feel a little less alone, thank you.
This space exists because of you.
Take what you need. Leave what you don’t.
And if this space helps you feel a little more human, you’re already home.
Love today,
Heather 🌸