Harsh Realities

October 15, 2020

Delicate Whispers of Hope

You whisper “goodbye” so softly you almost can’t hear the words yourself, immediately followed by “I love you”.  You will walk out of this room and this place with one less person. Immediately minus one out in the world, but never in your heart. Absent of a special life and soul, but not absent of the love. That kind of distinct love remains, always. Even…

full story
October 13, 2020

The Light-Filled Glasses of Hope

She didn’t look sick. She didn’t look like she was dying. She didn’t look like she was slipping to eternity and far away from us. She didn’t look like anything but my mother.  She didn’t look like those things because she couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t accept it and my heart couldn’t fathom it. Denial is the first sign of grief’s ugly entrance.  Sadly, the glasses…

full story
October 12, 2020

“If I can’t have you, then I can’t be with them.”

“If I can’t have you, then I can’t be with them.” It was the simple way it came out of his mouth. The ease as it left his lips and entered the world, to be heard and felt. Words spoken so lightly, so effortlessly, so quick, that I knew he meant them. I knew they were the intentional and deliberate wishes of his heart, but…

full story

The Deep Anxiety of Grief: It’s Complicated

I can’t stop. I’m in a groove. I’m getting things done.  I’m cleaning.  I’m purging.  I’m organizing.  I’m in constant motion.  I can’t stop. Stopping would mean acknowledging the grief. Acknowledging the date, a notable one. A number on the calendar signifying a special day, one that should include my mother. But it can’t and doesn’t because she’s gone. I know this reality, so I…

full story

My Dad, Making Dark Things Beautiful

My entire life my dad has purchased, renovated, and flipped houses. He has consistently purchased rundown, unmaintained, broken, dirty, and dark houses. As kids we’d gasp in horror looking at the chosen pieces of real estate selected by my father. Never understanding his vision or his insane desire to transform these less than mediocre houses. Houses others would abandon and run from, he was drawn…

full story

Chelsea Ohlemiller

Chelsea Ohlemiller

A thirty-something wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is a sappy romantic, coffee junkie, book collector, and person who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s sarcastic, full of jokes, full of tears, and enjoys writing most when life gets messy or complicated. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. Through her grief journey, she decided to take her mother’s advice and share her writing with the world. One day she gained the courage to honor her mother's wishes and write. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she's ever made.

Let’s connect: