There’s something sacred about sitting in a space where you don’t have to pretend, where you can show up exactly as you are and be met with empathy, encouragement, and zero judgment. That’s what happened at our most recent BWP CAYA – Come as You Are virtual lunch.
It wasn’t just another Zoom call. It was a circle of women holding space for each other’s real, raw, and often heavy moments - grief, struggle, overwhelm, uncertainty.
We talked about losing loved ones; how the pain lingers, how it resurfaces in waves. We had members share stories about their losses, and an impending loss. And you know what happened? We listened. We grieved right along with them. We made sure they had the space to share their deep emotions.
We offered support to a woman navigating both a personal and professional storm. And what did she receive? Not advice. Not platitudes. But presence. Compassion. A reminder that she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to have it all figured out to be worthy of support.
It’s important for me to say that this is not a one-time thing.
This sort of support has been happening at CAYA since the beginning. Consistently. Constantly. Confidentially. This is a page from BWP’s journey - every month for the past 4 years.
These are the moments that remind me:
Your story … yes, yours … might be the lifeline someone else needs.
When we share our stories, we normalize the messy middle. We give language to emotions others haven’t found words for yet. We remind each other that healing isn’t linear, that strength can look like tears, and that bravery is often just showing up.
That’s the power of sisterhood. It’s not about having identical journeys. It’s about walking side by side, lighting the path for one another with our lived experiences.
So, if you’re reading this and wondering whether your story matters, let me assure you: it does.
And if you’re craving this kind of space, a place where you can come as you are and be met with love, join us at the next CAYA lunch. Bring your laughter, your tears, your questions, your uncertainty. We’ll be there, holding space, reminding each other of our strength.
Because in this sisterhood, sharing isn’t oversharing.
It’s healing. It’s mentoring. It’s lifesaving. It’s necessary.