with Nicole Collins
For women whose husband or partner died. Married or not.
From the first night alone to the first trip solo.
Your husband or partner died, and now you're supposed to figure out a whole new life. Your brain feels like fog. The house is too quiet. Everyone has an opinion about how you should be doing. And somehow you're supposed to handle all the paperwork too.
Here you'll find help with what to do first, and company for the lonely parts, from a woman who's doing it too. Start with my free weekly letter.
I'm Nicole. My partner Christian died of brain cancer in 2023.
My first year was a mess. More flailing than healing, honestly. I'm still rebuilding, and I'm doing it badly, out loud, so you don't have to do it alone.
So this is where I share what I've learned about the practical stuff and the lonely stuff. And where we get to laugh at the absurd parts.
Some weeks, I'll take on the questions women type into Google at 2 a.m., like what to do first after your husband or partner dies, whether you're responsible for his credit card debt, or what happens when he died without a will. If you weren't married, I'll cover that too.
Other weeks, I'll write about widow brain, the loneliness, the first anniversary, and the "helpful" things people say to grieving women. Also grief spending, and why you might come home with three new throw pillows. There's room for wanting to travel again, too.
Each week, you'll get help with a decision in front of you, or with making sense of what you're going through. I'll share what I'm learning, including the attempts that went sideways. Take what's useful for the week you're having.
Five minutes, once a week. Free. Unsubscribe anytime. I won't take it personally. Well, maybe a little.
Formerly Letters from Bea.
Read the lettersPrefer to watch? On YouTube, I walk through these questions one at a time, from widow brain to Social Security survivor benefits.
Watch on YouTubeMaybe it's been eight months, you're still sad, and someone has decided it's time for you to "move on." Maybe you can't concentrate long enough to finish a sentence, let alone a form. Maybe everyone's telling you to sell the house, and you don't know what you want yet.
There is no judging panel for the grief Olympics. Bring whatever's loudest right now. In one hour on Zoom, we can:
You choose. Some women leave with a plan. Some leave having finally said all of it out loud.
After Christian died, a woman on a park bench listened to my whole story, squeezed my hand, and thanked me for telling it. She didn't try to fix me. I start every session that way. If you want a plan, we'll make one together.
I'm a certified grief educator, with credentials from David Kessler's program and Dora Carpenter's Grief to Gratitude program.
60 minutes on Zoom: $160. Three sessions: $420, to use within three months.
Book your sessionI'm not a financial advisor, attorney, or therapist. The decisions stay yours, and I help you walk into those conversations ready.
Not sure what needs your attention first? Bea shows you, then walks you through it one step at a time.
Bea is the AI guide I'm building for the financial first year after your husband or partner dies. When reading one more thing feels like too much, she'll read it to you. When you have a question, just ask her. She explains your options and helps you get ready for calls with the bank, the insurance company, or a professional. You make the decisions. Stop whenever you need to, and she'll pick up where you left off.
The free version covers keeping the household running, protecting your identity and credit, and staying covered.
The free beta opens this fall, and I'd love as many women as possible to try her and tell me what to fix. Invitations go out through the weekly letter.
Bea offers education, not legal or financial advice.
An online community for women who are rebuilding badly too.
Ask the question you'd feel silly asking anyone else. Find out how another woman handled the call with her bank. Get a cheering section before your first dinner out alone. Tell the story that only someone who's been there will think is funny.
It's also home base for the Bea beta, where testers trade notes and tell me what to fix. You'll hear when it opens through the weekly letter.
Maybe you're still on the couch. My first night alone, I couldn't sleep in our bed. I slept on the couch for weeks and checked my phone during the night, hoping Christian had somehow texted and I was waking up from a nightmare.
Maybe you're thinking about going somewhere, even though it scares you. The first Thanksgiving after Christian died, I volunteered for a work trip to the UK because I was afraid to celebrate it alone. They don't celebrate Thanksgiving there. Geographically, the plan was sound. I ended up drunk and ugly crying in a bar in Kensington.
You might be at either end, or both in the same week. Start with the letter. I'll be writing as I go, and I'd love to have you along.
Rebuilding Sessions provide non-clinical grief support. Financial information here is education, not legal or financial advice. A fiduciary financial advisor or an attorney licensed in your state can help with your individual circumstances.
If some nights are dark enough that you don't want to be here, call or text 988 any hour (US).