Pull up a seat.
Welcome to A Heart Rearranged
Where Grief Meets Grace, and Broken Hearts Find Hope
My name is Necole, and this is my sacred space for storytelling, soul-work, and survival.
I’m a mother, a daughter, a sister, a niece, a cousin, a friend, and a suicide loss survivor. I’m currently working toward my degree in Psychology, with a focus on crisis counseling. A path shaped by both personal experience and a deep desire to help others the way I wish someone had been there for my brother. I also work as an administrative assistant at Bama Bed and Breakfast, where I’ve found not just a job, but a work family that has truly changed my life. I believe with my whole heart that the right people can make all the difference and I am grateful to have found mine. Chris was a die-hard Alabama fan… the kind who never missed a game and planned life around kickoff. Game days are practically a sacred season. The irony isn’t lost on me that I do that now, too, only I get paid for it!
At my core, I’m learning how to breathe through the ache of grief, the weight of anxiety, the silence of depression, and the unraveling that comes with deep loss. I am learning how to live with a heart that remembers what it has lost and still dares to beat with hope.
A Heart Rearranged was born from the pieces I’ve been gathering - shards of sorrow, flickers of hope, memories that ache, and words that ultimately do heal. Here, I write not to fix what’s broken, but to honor it. To tell the truth about what it means to keep going when someone you love doesn’t. The struggle to be a mother while mourning. To rebuild a life when the blue print no longer makes sense.
This isn’t a place for polished perfection. Some of what you’ll read here will be messy, written in the exact moment it was lived, without editing or softening. I leave those pieces untouched because that’s how they were born: raw, vulnerable, and unsteady. Later, I revisit them and reflect from where I stand now. Sometimes I see them with more compassion. Sometimes I no longer agree with the words I wrote. Sometimes I barely recognize the person who wrote them. But all of it belongs here… the truths I once clung to, the ones I’ve outgrown, and the ones still finding their way. This is for those navigating the quiet, sacred battles no one sees. For those whose hearts have been shattered and slowly, painfully, beautifully stitched back together, but still rearranged. If you’ve ever felt like your grief was too big, your questions too heavy, your healing too slow, please know: you are not alone here. Your heart has a home.
I’m thankful you are here. I hope you stay a while. And maybe we can learn how to live with a heart rearranged, together.
In the quiet glow of healing, let’s find each other.
Thank you for finding your way here.
If something in these words spoke to you - if you're carrying a story, a question, or simply longing to be seen - I’d be honored to hold a piece of it. I may not have the answers, but I will always meet you with presence, empathy, and an open heart.