I’ve never really liked the month of March.
For as long as I can remember—going all the way back to childhood—it felt like if something bad was going to happen to me, it would happen in March. Somehow, year after year, that belief kept proving itself true.
Last March, my mom passed away.
Last March, I spent my birthday quietly, just me and my dad.
And March became heavy in a way I didn’t ask for.
But today, as this new March begins, I’m trying something different.
I’m trying to loosen my grip on the story I’ve been telling myself.
Trying to remember that months don’t get to decide my fate.
Trying to believe that grief doesn’t own the calendar, and neither do old fears.
This March, I’m choosing to meet the days as they come—without expectation, without dread, and with a little more grace for myself.
Maybe healing doesn’t mean forgetting what happened.
Maybe it just means not letting it define everything that comes next.
Here’s to a gentler March.
One day at a time.
Wishing you love and light,
~Anne Dennish~









