164. I Don't Know What Comes Next, But This Is Where I Am Today

This is an honest check-in after the sudden death of Adrienne’s husband, Brian.

In this solo episode, Adrienne shares where she is right now — the shock of loss, the moments from the hospital and funeral that stayed with her, how family and friends stepped in to carry the logistics of life, and what it looks like to navigate uncertainty with her daughters. She talks about being on short-term disability, managing one breath at a time, and living inside a life that no longer looks the way she thought it would.

This episode isn’t a lesson or a guide. It’s simply a return — naming where she is, without fixing or explaining.

Support the Smith Family

Several people have asked how to support our family during this time. For those who wish, a link is included below. Please know there is no expectation — your care and presence already mean so much.

https://givesendgo.com/Smithfamilysatx

Wanna be on the show? Click here to fill out our guest info form or drop us a email at yogachanged@gmail.com

Follow us on TikTok:
https://www.tiktok.com/@yogachanged

Follow us on Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/yogachanged/

For more, go to https://howyogachangedmylife.com

The theme music for this episode, “Cenote Angelita”, was written and produced by Mar Abajo Rio AKA MAR Yoga Music. Dive deeper into this and other original yoga-inspired compositions by visiting bio.site/mcrworks. For the latest updates on upcoming events featuring his live music for yoga and meditation, be sure to follow @maryogamusic on Instagram.

Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:01

Hi, it's Adrienne. It's been a few weeks since we've been able to put up a episode of the podcast. And I wanted to check in and talk about why. This is very unpolished. It's very raw. My husband, Brian, died on January tenth. This episode isn't a lesson. It's not supposed to be a guide. It's not going to fix anything. It's just me trying to be open about what happened and where I am right now. Brian got sick really quickly. Things moved really fast. There was a lot of doctors and machines and waiting and up and down. There were decisions that had to be made that I never thought I would ever have to make in my lifetime. I took him to the hospital on Tuesday. And he passed away with all of us, his whole family around him, on Saturday night. Right now, my nervous system can't catch up. I can barely speak or eat. I haven't moved at all. I didn't get a gradual goodbye to him. I didn't get any time to prepare. There is only shock and grief and pain. I have a osteoarthritis. And so I am in chronic pain. What's crazy is that this pain is so deep in my heart and my energetic body that I can't feel my chronic joint bone pain right now. And you know that feeling that you get like deep down when something really bad happened or is about to happen, or something you did wrong. And that feeling of the bottom dropping out beneath you. A feeling that is no bottom at all. And it's just reality that life was still here asking me to function, to be there for my kids. One night before he died, I wrote a note in my phone. I recorded a voice memo with him. I spoke with him, even though he was resting. We played his favorite music. When I look back at that note, it's crazy because you can actually see what shock looks like. I wrote, if I do something that can help him, maybe I can share it with other moms. They're ever in my position. Who do I talk to? Reading those lines now. I was just trying to survive. Just a wife trying to stay alive in something that's just completely out of your control and so much pain. I used to consider myself a pretty strong person. I was the person that if something broke in your house, I could come over and fix it for you, or at least attempt to. If you had trouble with your password or your phone, people would call me or ask me questions about it. This is the first time in my life that I don't have any strength. I have no clarity. I have no perspective. I'm just breathing. There's moments when breathing was the only thing I could do to stay in my body. It's not to feel calm or better. It was just to get through the next moment that came meditating and breathing my quieter, softer practices in yoga have been the only thing that I can rely on inside right now. I didn't plan the funeral. I didn't make any arrangements. I didn't have the capacity. They came in and they took over. My family handled all the logistics, all the planning, all the details, all the things that I couldn't even wrap my head around or decide upon. And I went through a death doula certification back in 2021. I wanted to understand the death and dying process because with COVID, it was just so much. And I'll tell you, when I came home from the hospital without him, and I grabbed for those notes, and it was blank. I had nothing in my head to help myself. I always said it was the law that if he traveled and went anywhere, something was bound to break or go wrong. Whether it be an ice storm, a roof leak, a power outage, getting sick. I'm used to being the one that can do those things. But now, I can't. Staying close with us. They come by. They'll sit with me. We haven't had to worry about a meal or groceries. They've made sure that sustaining life and living is still here. And we can't think about anything else. I haven't had to explain me myself to anyone. And I haven't had to hold it together. They've held the foundation of my life around me. I'm barely able to stand inside it. One thing I think a lot about is my friends and my families. I don't ever want them to feel pressure to say the right thing or not to reach out or to reach out. I've gotten hundreds of messages, and all the love being shown to me and my family is unbelievable. It's so magical. Every text, every voicemail, every letter, every visit, or any act that anyone's done for me and my family, I will cherish and closely hold dear to my heart for the rest of my life. I really want to answer each and every person. I hope I can do it in time. Having my phone around me. It's hard. I'm not surviving this period because I'm strong. I'm surviving this period because I am surrounded. And I don't take that lightly. I feel so much gratitude for all the people that have showed up. Not once, but over and over again. In some of the most practical and human ways I could ever ask for. Shelton had an incredibly close relationship with Brian. In fact, he's in the beer business because of Brian. Brian always had Shelton's back and always will. Shelton has a beautiful family, brought his daughter to the funeral. Shelton has stepped up for me and my kids more than I could have ever imagined. Everybody in the family has. Every single person. Everyone. Gabrielle (We call her Bassy), Brian's daughter. She gave a eulogy. I don't know how she did it. And I don't think that I could ever ever been prepared for what it would be like to hear Brian described through her eyes. She talked about who he was, how consistent he was, his pride in his family and his positivity. The way he showed up for people over and over again. One thing that Bassy said to me while we were still at the hospital with Brian, she said something along the lines of I know the way you came into the family wasn't the way you wanted to. But I know that you were meant for my dad. Listening to her talk about him. No matter what the role was, father, mentor, leader, friend, Brian was the same person in all of them. He was confident, but not from an egotistical standpoint. He wasn't one thing out there and another thing inside. And she got up and she sang it at his funeral. She was so strong, so filled with his light in that moment. It was so gut-wrenching to watch. She just had so much of his light and still has so much of his light in her. It's just my answer to most questions now is I don't know. What I do have is awareness that I have to take it hour by hour. Honestly. Each day and every time I wake up, it's like a shittier version of Bill Murray's Groundhog's Day movie. Each morning I wake up on his side of the bed because I can't have abandoned my side. Every time I open up my eyes in the morning, I just feel completely disoriented. Right now I'm on a short-term disability leave from my full-time job. The team of women that I work with have been incredible. And without the support of my family and my friends, I would not be here. I'm technically not working. But life is still very much happening. I've been working on writing all this out so I could just read this on the podcast. I don't know why. There's just so many unknowns right now. Mallory is gonna be seventeen next month. Campbell is gonna be twenty in March. And I just feel like someone came in and flipped my house upside down. And I'm trying to reorient to something grounded and stable. I don't even know what. That looks like moving forward for us or for me. I don't have any answers. I'm just making decisions in layers. I'm not trying to pretend like I have everything figured out. I'm being exactly myself. Not trying to hide anything from my kids. Some days there's a few moments where I feel steady enough to talk or do paperwork. The one thing I can control is decluttering. So I've been doing that. But most moments I just want to be in my bed. On his side of the bed. I'm learning. I'm trying. I'm trying to ask for help, which I suck at. I'm letting things just be where they are right now and trying to be okay. With no clarity. With no answers. I don't know what's next for me. I do know that I really love this podcast and this community. And I felt that in this very moment to share with you that breathing, meditation, and prayer are the only things that are getting me through this. I need movement. I know that. That'll happen. I guess I'll just return. And the only way that I know how is honestly and slowly. I really appreciate you listening and being here as a community as I find my footing again. I'm hoping that I will have the courage to talk more to share more. Natalie and Nora are coming over. I know that they know that doing things like recording for the podcast may help me. Mia came over. She recorded an episode that's catching up on all of her past gosh, almost year of her life and her journey. But this is where I am today. So of course I'm gonna go to podcasters to see how to help get through this. There's not a lot of widow podcasts out there, by the way. There's a couple. I really like these two, Anita and crap. What's her name? Oh shit, that's so bad. They're amazing. They're from Utah. I wish they cursed. That's my only ask, isn't that they they curse? They're very honest and open. As I've been going through my closet and 30 years worth of clothes, because I guess I'm kind of a hoarder of clothes. I have been binging their episodes and hearing how raw and open they are about their journeys is scary and as fucked up as it is to know that I have people that have experienced something similar. I just I don't want to be without him. But I know that he's with me. Thanks, you guys. I don't know what else to say. I'm grateful for my job and my health insurance. I'm terrified of what's next. But I am surrounded by people that love and care for me. If you want to share your stories or talk, check the show notes below. Thanks. Yokis.