Hi, I’m Dana
I’m a writer, founder, traveler, collector of old stuff, and person who has spent an unreasonable amount of time thinking about what makes a life feel like your own.
I didn’t exactly choose that last part.
This project started because my husband was dying. I’m still here because of everything I learned about living afterward.
I didn’t know what was next, I just knew this wasn’t it.
There was a moment in my grief I’ll never forget. I was lying on the floor, sobbing, wishing desperately for a different life.
My husband, Brad, had died.
It felt like I had lost everything. My partner, my home, my security, my identity, my faith in humanity (just to name a few). And I was waiting for something — anything — to change my circumstances.
And then it became painfully clear:
Nothing was coming to save me.
That realization wasn’t comforting. It was a rude awakening. I stayed plastered to that floor longer than I’d like to admit.
But eventually another thought arrived: I didn't know what was next, but I knew this wasn't it.
If I wanted my life to feel different, I was going to have to start making different choices.
So I started trying things.
Since Brad died, I’ve driven 10,000 miles across the country and made it to my seventh continent. I’ve sorted a lifetime of stuff into keep and go. I’ve downloaded the dating apps, un-downloaded them, and fallen in love again. I’ve moved twice. Switched careers. Started businesses. Taken risks. Failed. Succeeded. Pivoted. Forced joy, noticed joy, and figured out some of what brings me immense joy now.
And I’ve carried my loss alongside all of it.
I’ve been the cancer patient, the widow, and the full-time caregiver for my dad, all before the age of 40. Yes, it was cancer every time. I’ve learned that just because you step in shit once doesn’t mean you won’t step in shit again.
But I’ve also learned that a life doesn’t have to be untouched by grief — or uncertainty, disappointment, fear, or any of the other shit we don’t get to choose — to be a freaking beautiful life.
Joy Scout Project grew out of that realization.
Brad and I started Forced Joy Project while he was sick as a promise to keep looking for joy in the middle of something terrible. I carried it with me after he died.
For a long time, that name fit. I needed to force myself to look for something good when everything felt terrible. But eventually I realized I wasn’t only interested in how we survive the worst things that happen to us. I was interested in what comes next. How we pay attention. What we choose. What makes us feel alive. Who we become when the life we’re living no longer quite fits.
Forced Joy taught me how to survive. Joy Scout Project is about learning how to live.
What do I want to do with the life I have?
For the record, I don’t have this all figured out either.
I’m still trying things. Still changing my mind. Still making choices that don’t work and occasionally ones that do.
When I first started writing on the internet, after my cancer diagnosis, Brad stuck a note on my computer that said:
“Use your voice. Don’t apologize. Be honest. Have fucking fun.”
It’s still the closest thing I have to a business plan (although I’m still working on the “don’t apologize” part).
I think the same advice works pretty well for life, too.
These days, life includes year-round dips in Lake Michigan, hunting for the perfect Leland Blue stone, traveling somewhere far away whenever I can with my partner, Nate, getting my hands dirty in my garden (and accepting I will always be a beginner), writing things I’m occasionally afraid to publish, and doing a significant amount of introverting at home.
I still don’t know exactly where I’m going, but I know enough to keep following the spark.
A few other things I’ve built along the way
Book of Stories
A way to keep the stories of the people we love.
I created Book of Stories after experiencing firsthand how terrifying it can feel to lose not just a person, but all the tiny stories that made them them. It turns memories collected from friends and family into a beautiful hardcover book.
Widows in the Wild
Big adventures with people who get it.
Bringing widows together through travel. We host small-group adventures around the world for people who have experienced partner loss — and are very much still interested in experiencing the world.
I’m Fine (& Other Lies)
Long-form musings on life.
My Substack is where the longer, more personal stuff lives: grief, widowhood, cancer, love, travel, identity, and whatever else I’m yearning to explore through writing, A mixture of unsolicited advice and lessons learned the hard way.
You don’t have to know what’s next.
Neither do I.
Get curious about what’s here. Pay attention to what pulls at you. Try something. Change your mind. Try something else.