Our Mission
To build and sustain a community that helps grievers feel less alone, provides a safe and judgment-free space to share stories and resources, and creates meaningful connections that help the world better navigate the complexities of grief.
This is not your traditional grief group. We don’t have a manual. There is no script. We aren't going to spout out one-liners telling you that everything happens for a reason or you need to search for a silver lining. Swearing will occur.
This is your space to bring the truest, rawest form of yourself, wherever you’re at, in this moment.
The Forced Joy Club is a community of people looking to find connection in the dark and shadowy moments of life, without guilt or shame. It’s for people who understand that sometimes in grief, joy has to forced.
We believe that while grief looks different for everyone, the more we share about it, the more others know they’re not alone in their experience. Plus, sharing our struggles not only helps with a sense of belonging, but can also drastically improve our healing.
Grief is personal. Grief is isolating. But that doesn’t mean you need to experience it alone. Come sit in the shit – and maybe also the joy – with people who understand.
This is a safe and welcoming place for all genders, ethnicities, and sexual identities.
If you are unable to afford a membership, but feel you could benefit, please email [email protected].
If you would like to contribute to a future griever's membership, please do so here:
Frequently Asked Questions
What types of grievers are welcome here? We don’t like to put people’s grief in a box, so we won’t get specific, but some examples of grief include: partner loss, sibling loss, parent loss, friend loss, child loss, miscarriage, cancer diagnosis, chronic or terminal disease, and so many more.
Will there be in-person events? In the future, yes! Depending on the desire and location of members, we’ll start having get-togethers in person. We are also hoping for a yearly retreat in Northern Michigan for a small group (think sunsets, daily dips in a Great Lake, and all the fireside chats you want).
Why do I have to pay? Where does the money go? As much as I wanted to make this free for everyone (and trust me, I tried), the time to build and manage a space like this is a lot. It’s a job (one I very much love and feel so grateful to do), but still a job. The money goes to pay me for that effort, in addition to our experts (unless they choose to donate their time), the overhead for this platform and events, and various designers, freelancers, and contractors that help along the way.
What’s the cancellation policy? We want this community to bring value and validation to your grief experience. If at any point you feel like the Forced Joy Club is not a good fit, you can cancel your membership.
About the Founder
I was once told by someone that they’d never had to force joy before. And I thought, “how lucky.” How lucky that they don’t know what it’s like to live with such grief and pain, that joy no longer comes naturally. That it's now something you have to search out and find.
This community is not for the people who have never had to force joy. It’s for the people who have. For the people who have been in the most amount of pain possible and to the depths of grief, and who still believe that somewhere out there, there may be joy. And maybe just needs a little bit of help finding it.
I've had my own fair share of grief. At 28, I was diagnosed with cancer. At 33, I became a widow after my husband died of cancer. And at 35, I became the full-time caregiver for my dad who was dying of - yep, you guessed it - cancer. During those times, forced joy wasn't just about finding a silver lining (there were none). It was about survival.
What fulfills me is giving people the courage to share their stories – and the space to do so. To give people the encouragement that they don’t always have to be fine. To remind them, that even in the shit, joy still exists.
When you talk about topics that others find taboo or uncomfortable, you are naturally creating waves. I don’t love having to talk about grief. But I love the fact that when I do, it helps give a voice to so many other people’s stories. I spent a lifetime being suffocated by “I’m fines.” And now I get the privilege of encouraging others to let that shit go.
Want to learn more about me, my grief, and the Forced Joy Project?