Healing with HeartStrings

At thirty-one, I felt like I was hitting all the milestones that society says you're "supposed

to." I had my fiancé, John, the house, the career... even a puppy. Everything felt perfect—until it

wasn’t. In a blink, I was back to square one.

In August 2022, just a month before our wedding, a police officer knocked on my door

with devastating news: John had been found unresponsive in his car, barely half a mile from our

home. He had overdosed. I could go into details and narrate the timeline of events that got us to

that point or delve into the complexities of addiction and overdoses and the lack of help and

resources available (especially for men). But instead, I want to share a different story: the story

of how this all changed me.

Losing John forced me into a new trajectory and pushed me to evolve into a new version

of myself. In my experience, it’s typical that when people hear “overdose” they conjure up

stereotypes to associate with the person involved—that they were just a druggie, a junkie, or

someone with no ambition. People make assumptions that the person was lazy and doesn’t want

to work, and that they chose this for themselves.

For John, those characterizations could not have been further from the truth. Throughout

our relationship, I teased him that he was a “mom” collector. He endeared himself to every

mother figure he encountered, and they loved him fiercely in return. He was incredibly

charismatic, had a close-knit circle of lifelong friends, and was the brightest light in every room

he entered. He always made me feel special, frequently returning home from work or trips to the

store with beautiful bouquets of flowers or waking up just hours after finally getting home from

the night shift to clear my car and the driveway when it snowed so I didn’t have to. He always

made me feel incredibly lucky to have him as my partner. He was none of the things I previously

mentioned, and this was not the ending he wanted for himself, for me, or any of his loved ones.

My relationship with John changed me in profound ways. The impact of watching how

he lived his life changed me from a self-conscious introvert into someone who embraces public

speaking, solo adventures, and connecting with strangers. He taught me the value of human

connection, a lesson I will always treasure. Even though I still battle nerves and self-doubt at

times, I have come to realize that life looks different after surviving your worst nightmare. The

fear of judgment from others pales in comparison to the hardship I have endured. I now cherish

and embrace the extroverted spirit that John ignited in me, and I am comforted by the belief that

part of him lives on through me.

Of course, this entire grief journey has not been easy. Transformation is wonderful, but it

takes a lot of work. Starting with the pamphlet about a local support group that I picked up at

John’s funeral, I have not stopped putting in the work and effort to get myself where I am today.

After John’s death, I felt like I needed fix myself. I desperately searched for a magical cure for

my overwhelming grief, only to realize one doesn’t exist. But I did find things that helped.

One suggestion I got from a grief coach was to try journaling. It sounded cliché and silly

to me at the time. All I knew about journaling was what was shown in teeny bopper movies

where young girls wrote in their diaries about their crushes or the class bully. But again, I was on

the hunt for that magical cure, so I decided to try it out. The only problem was that I didn’t know

how to journal. I decided to wing it and started journaling in two different ways.

The first way I tried was writing letters to John. I expressed my sadness that he’d left me,

anger that he was gone, and frustration that there was nothing I could do or could have done to

change this outcome. I wrote to him about my day, about the future, or about things that were

going on in my life that I was devastated he would not be there for. I told him about the

newfound envy that crept up when something good happened to someone else, and how guilty it

made me feel. I told him everything that I would have told him if he were still sitting next me on

the couch at home.

I also used writing letters as a way to cope with going to the cemetery. I had never before

experienced a loss that led me to frequent a cemetery, so I didn’t know how to do that either. I

began keeping a journal in the glove box of my car, and when I went to the cemetery I sat (and

still do) with my journal at John’s grave site and chatted with him through my journal. Writing

letters provided me with a method of communication and an opportunity to stay connected with

him through written conversations.

My second way of journaling was creating daily lists of the good and bad things that

happened during my day. I forced myself to find positives, even on the darkest days, and always

made sure there were at least one or two things on the “good” list. Over time, this also became a

reflection process of sorts. I could look back through my journal and see my progress, right there

in front of me. I noticed that my “bad” list, which was originally fairly long, now only had a few

things on it. Or I noticed how I had struggled to come up with more than a couple of good things

in the beginning, and now sometimes the “good” list was longer than the bad. The visual aspect

of that progress reassured me that healing was possible.

Writing became a form of release, a way to externalize my thoughts and emotions. It

provided me with breathing room. It was a way to move those negative thoughts, feelings, and

emotions off my chest and onto the page of my journal. I like to compare the feeling journaling

gives you to the way you feel after eating a big Thanksgiving meal. It’s that moment at the end of

the day when you finally get to unbutton your (now) too tight pants and put on your sweats. It

gives the same sense of relief, release, and breathing room.

In the darkest moments of my hardest times, I found a glimmer of light in journaling, and

that eventually led me to create my own business: HeartStrings Journals. I design my journals

with bright, fun, funny, and welcoming covers that are then coupled with the same good, bad,

and other daily layout that I use in my personal journaling practice. HeartStrings Journals

provide a very simple and approachable format for anyone to be able to journal with ease.

I often wonder how John would feel if he saw the person I've become and where this

journey has taken me. I imagine that he’d be both devastated and proud. Proud of the path that I

have taken, but devastated not to be on it with me. While on this new path, people have often

expressed their admiration for my resilience. Through their admiration and acknowledgement of

my changes, I have learned that unexpected blessings can arise from even the worst tragedies.

It is easy to become your own biggest critic, but I have learned during this healing

process that my assumptions about other people's judgments were often my own projections and

self-doubt. Now, I am more aware that I tend to judge myself more harshly than any outsider

ever has. I have also learned the importance of mindset, and I try my best to keep mine positive

so that I can focus on what matters most to me: Turning this life altering tragedy into something

good and positive that can hopefully help others through their struggles.

Through this journey, I have discovered that grief is my new partner in life, and while it

never goes away, I can choose how I carry it. I choose to use grief to fuel my determination to

live a life that I know would make John proud.

If my story resonates with you, I want you to remember that you are in control of your

life and your mindset. You decide who you are and how you handle challenges. You decide the

parts of yourself that you keep and the parts that you change or get rid of. And I know that it is

so much easier said than done, but luckily, if you're unsure of your path, you can open your

journal—your new best friend—and explore your options. And if you happen to need a journal,

Heartstrings Journals is the place to go! Let’s continue this journey together. Share your story

with me and let’s support each other along the way.

________________________________________________

Shawn graduated with a bachelor’s degree in psychology from the University of

Connecticut in 2014 and has since gained over a decade of experience in the field of human

resources. In her free time, she loves to explore, whether that be a solo travel adventure, trying

out a new local coffee shop, or road tripping to discover new thrift stores.

Following the life altering event of losing her beloved fiancé in 2022, Shawn had no

choice but to embark on an unexpected new path of self-discovery and healing. Through her

struggles with grief, Shawn found journaling as a powerful healing outlet, which became the

inspiration for her business, HeartStrings Journals.

Shawn’s mission extends beyond HeartStrings Journals as she uses social media to foster

a platform of support and understanding. She believes in the transformative power of

maintaining a positive mindset and the importance of finding companionship in others with

shared experiences. Shawn encourages embracing the mentality that grief and joy can coexist in

the wake of tragedy, and she invites you to follow her journey on social media, where she shares

her personal experiences, insights, and the uplifting message that we can lean on one another to

heal together. Her inbox is always open! No one has to face their grief alone.

Ways to connect with Shawn Dinneen and HeartStrings Journals:

Instagram @Heart_StringsJournals

TikTok HeartStringsJournals

Facebook HeartStrings Journals

Website linktr.ee/HeartStringsJournals

P.S. From the author: The name of my business, HeartStrings Journals, is inspired by a poem I

deeply connected with called “Heartstrings” by Becky Hemsley. I would highly recommend the

read to anyone navigating the depths of grief.