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About Us

You might think "holding life together" means barely keeping it from falling apart. We used to think that too.

But that's not what this is.

This is about holding life — together. As in, you don't have to hold it alone anymore. As in, there are people here who get it, who've been through it, who will sit with you in the hard parts and celebrate the beautiful ones. As in, community is the thing that actually holds us.

Welcome to Holding Life Together. We're glad you found us.

We're not your typical wellness page.

We don't have it all figured out. We've been in the trenches — the ICU waiting rooms, the rehab centers, the 3am spirals, the moments where just getting through the day felt like the only goal worth having.

And somehow, we're still here.

The Story

In 2019, our world cracked open. Holden — my son, my miracle, my most unfiltered human — survived a traumatic brain injury that should have taken him from us. What followed wasn't a straight line to recovery. It was messy, terrifying, humbling, and ultimately the most transformative experience of our lives.

I'm Trisha. I'm the mom who held it together on the outside while quietly falling apart on the inside. The caregiver who smiled at nurses while screaming into pillows. The skeptic who found herself talking to the universe because she'd run out of other options.

And Holden? Holden came back with a gift none of us expected.

He was given a new beginning — one free from fear, free from the weight of what other people think, free from all the small worries that shrink a life down to nothing. He came back living in the moment and expecting the best from it. He came back with spreading love and light into the world as his highest priority, his north star, the thing that gets him out of bed every single morning.

He didn't just survive. He returned more himself than he'd ever been.

But as we walked that road, we saw something else too — something we couldn't unsee.We watched how invisible people become in the middle of a tragedy. How the person in the hospital bed gets the cards and flowers and phone calls, while the person sleeping in the chair next to them disappears. We felt the loneliness of caregiving — the particular kind of alone that comes from pouring everything into someone else while the world keeps moving without you. We saw how hard it is to find yourself again after something this big — especially in a world that rewards performance over truth and busyness over being.

This page exists because of Holden's second chance. And because of every person who has ever felt invisible in their own story.

You deserve to be seen. You deserve a place that's real. And you deserve a community that understands that healing, recovery, and becoming your truest self is some of the hardest — and most sacred — work a human being can do.

This isn't just a brain injury page. It never was.

Holding Life Together is for anyone who's been through something that cracked them open — a brain injury, a cancer diagnosis, a loss that rearranged everything, a moment that divided your life into before and after. It's for the survivors and the people who survived alongside them. The caregivers who gave everything and forgot to save anything for themselves. The people who made it through and are now standing on the other side wondering who am I now, and what do I do with this second chance?

We believe healing doesn't look one way. We're a little woo-woo. We talk God, universe, astrology, Reiki and crystals and NDEs and why we're here. We also talk about practical things — finding a job after caregiving derailed your career, the messy middle, navigating a medical system that doesn't see you, rebuilding a life from scratch.

We're skeptical and spiritual at the same time. We hold both.

WHAT YOU WILL FIND HERE

For the invisible people

There's a whole group of people the world doesn't talk about enough — the ones holding everyone else up. The caregivers. The support people. The person who slept in the hospital chair for 47 nights and never made the news. The one who kept showing up even when they had nothing left.

This is for you too. You are not invisible here.

Come with us

So here's what we're asking.

Come with us.

Not to a support group. Not to a place where we sit with our pain and call it healing. Come on a journey back to yourself — the version of you that existed before fear took the wheel. The one who had a list of things they wanted to do before they talked themselves out of it. The one who knew how to play, how to wonder, how to show up for the sheer joy of being alive.

We believe bucket lists shouldn't wait for a diagnosis. We believe pushing the envelope is a form of self-respect. We believe your inner child has been waiting patiently for you to come back and let them out — and that they have a lot to say.

Holden taught us that a second chance isn't something that happens to you. It's something you choose, every single day.

So whether you're a survivor, a caregiver, a person who simply woke up one day and realized you've been living someone else's life — this is your invitation.

To rediscover who you actually are. To stop waiting. To live out loud, on your own terms, with your whole heart.

We're holding life together over here. And we'd love for you to hold it with us.

With LOVE always,

Trisha & Holden