Grief, Gratitude, and the Power of Community
Guest Podcast on the Groove with Portia Show
What You'll Hear in This Episode
Grief isn't just about loss. It's about integration, transformation, and learning to hold both joy and sorrow at the same time. In this conversation with Porsha Booker, I share my journey through one of life's hardest losses—the death of my mother 11 years ago—and how that grief cracked me open in ways I never expected.
We talk about:
How losing my mom forced me to learn vulnerability for the first time
Why pleasure isn't what you think it is (and why it matters)
The power of community in helping you integrate all versions of yourself
How to reconnect with childlike joy without bypassing the hard stuff
Why finding new mirrors is sometimes the only way forward
How grief and gratitude can coexist in the same breath
If you've ever felt like you had to be the strong one, the responsible one, the one who never needs anything, this conversation is for you.
The Wakeup Call I Didn't Want (But Desperately Needed)
Transformation doesn't happen all at once. It happens in waves. Like an alarm clock going off, hitting snooze, then another alarm, until finally you have that nightmare that jolts you awake and you realize: I actually have to get up now.
For me, the first major wakeup call came 11 years ago when my mom passed away.
Her death cracked open the external shell I'd built—the identity of the strong, responsible one who never needed anything. I'd spent my entire life being that person. The one you could count on. The one who held it together. The one who didn't cry, didn't ask for help, didn't burden anyone with her needs.
And then she was gone.
Losing my mom felt like being a hermit crab forced out of its shell. I was soft, gooey, exposed. I didn't know how to be vulnerable. I didn't know how to ask for help because I'd never taught anyone how to help me.
I was in desperate need of care, love, and nurturing—the kind I'd only ever received from my mom. And she wasn't there anymore.
So I had to learn two things: How to love and care for myself. And how to teach others how to love and care for me.
That was the beginning of my reclamation.
From Self-Criticism to Self-Compassion
Growing up half French and half American, I learned early that my love language was self-criticism.
The French are very good at being critical—always looking for what could be a little bit better. If I came home with a 98% on a test, my parents would ask, "But what about the other 2%? How could we have improved that?"
I built a strong relationship with my inner critic. And I turned that into my career. I became the person you'd call when you wanted candid feedback, when you wanted someone to hold you accountable to a better version of yourself.
But I've shifted. It's not just critical for the sake of improvement anymore. It's present for the sake of fulfillment.
My love language today prioritizes what I'm present to. My capacity. My pleasure. What my body can do right now. What I genuinely want. What would bring me joy and fulfillment.
Rather than bullying my way into the next milestone or burning out for the sake of accomplishment, I love myself today by:
Listening to my body first
Honoring my values
Giving myself grace
I've learned that it's in that ease, in that gentleness with myself, that I'm able to show up more often with better energy and more resources to help others.
Pleasure Isn't What You Think It Is
When Porsha asked me about pleasure, she made a joke about how most people immediately think of something sexual. And she's right—pleasure has become this taboo word, this thing we only associate with physical sensuality.
But that's not what I mean when I talk about pleasure as a leadership practice.
My mom didn't have much money growing up. But she would use a scarf to tie up curtains. She'd repurpose things out of cardboard just to make them look avant-garde. Those little micro shifts didn't cost anything. They weren't stereotypically "pleasurable."
But they were a deepening of the intimacy between her and the outside world.
That's what pleasure is: allowing yourself to be vulnerable, intimate, and build a collaborative relationship with your environment and the world around you. It's co-creating your life in a way that feels good to be part of.
The Guilt of Joy After Grief
When you're going through grief, there's always resistance to reincorporating joy. You feel guilty. How can I be happy when something terrible just happened?
The solution isn't viewing it as either/or. You encompass multitudes. And the people who've passed on—their legacy lives on within us.
I would hate to see my mom's legacy go to waste by not letting it live a second life through my joy. Through my new experiences. Through the novelty I create.
My mom was someone who was led by her pleasure and her joy. She loved the nice things in life. She valued beauty, creativity, design.
And so honoring her means choosing to be joyful anyway. It means remembering that the version of me before my mom died is still within me. Transformation isn't about discarding. It's about composting—turning the wood into nourishment for the soil.
You're always honoring the legacy of your hard-won battles every time you choose to be joyful.
Reconnect With Your Seven-Year-Old Self
If you want to reconnect with pleasure, start with the version of you that was joyful, childlike, and carefree.
Think about who you were at seven years old. Running around the backyard. Playing make-believe. Climbing trees. You had no inhibitions. You didn't care what anyone thought.
That version of you is still here.
Children teach us how to be present. They don't live in the past or the future. They're fully immersed in the moment—and that's where pleasure lives.
So many of us have been told to "grow up." To put away childish things. But that seven-year-old knows something we've forgotten: joy doesn't have to be earned. It just is.
Presence First. Always.
If we're not present, we'll chase external sources of pleasure. Scrolling. TV shows. The club. And we'll create a dependent relationship with the outside world that decenters us.
We become victims of our circumstances. Which is fine when the circumstances are great—but what happens when the world is falling apart?
You need to be able to resource up internally. To find pleasure within. To become the source of it.
That's what I mean by sustainable self-expression and personal fulfillment. It's not about one-hit wonders. It's about becoming a well deep within you that you can consistently nourish and tap into—and from that well, you pour into others.
Community: The Mirror You Need
When Porsha asked me what keeps me afloat, especially during the hard times, the first thing that came to mind was community.
Specifically: finding people who can mirror and reflect back to you your multitudes.
You might not get that from a single person. When my mom passed away, I couldn't turn to my family. There was only negative emotion and resentment. There was only the version of me they saw—which felt different from how my mom saw me.
So I had to go find new people.
I went to the Himalayas for 20 days and trekked with 19 strangers. That changed my life and my self-perception. For the first time, I was surrounded by people in a group setting where I didn't have any responsibility.
I'd been in the military. I'd been in lots of group dynamics. But usually, I had to leave an impression. We were being ranked or graded. I had to be a leader. I was responsible for something.
But in the Himalayas? I wasn't responsible for anything.
I had to let myself be seen when the duty no longer fell to me. I had to ask: Who am I when I don't have to do anything? Who am I when I just choose to be myself?
And being seen in that way—by people who viewed me through that lens, who encouraged it, who still took care of me and let me take care of them—that helped me integrate all the versions of myself.
If Your Current Community Can't Hold You, Find New Mirrors
If your friends currently only remind you of who you used to be, go encounter new strangers.
If you're in a position to hire professional help—a therapist, a certified coach—I highly recommend it. That's another lens. Another spotlight. Genuine attention you get to put on who you are.
And here's the thing about sustainment during hard times: sometimes being the first one to reach out and be vulnerable reminds you that you aren't alone.
Showing up for others—giving back rather than isolating—is a gentle reminder that we all struggle for different reasons but in very similar ways.
There is joy to be found in solidarity through the hard times.
Find your people. That's the long and short of it.
Integration, Not Discarding
Porsha said something beautiful in our conversation: We're learning to integrate the lost versions of ourselves into our everyday.
That's exactly it.
Transformation isn't about shedding and discarding. It's pruning the tree and turning that wood into compost that nourishes the soil.
It always stays within us.
The version of me before my mom died is still within me. The version of Porsha who had a TV career is still within her. The dreams that didn't go in the direction we wanted—they're still here.
You're always honoring the legacy of your hard-won battles every time you choose to be joyful anyway.
Ready to Dive Deeper?
If this conversation resonated, there are a few ways we can work together:
The SEA
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A 12-month guided program where you reclaim your center through presence, purpose, people, communication, and pleasure.
The Reclamation
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Private 1:1 mentorship for the woman ready to return to herself fully and fiercely.
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