Happy Hour for Sad People: an Unconventional Grief Circle

June's Theme: DADDY ISSUES

YOU'VE GOT DADDY ISSUES. Let's talk (and drink) about 'em.

Because June is a month where we celebrate fathers, but a lot of us need to cry about them.

And let's be real: most people who show up at a bar have daddy issues, whether they admit it or not. The father wound doesn't just disappear because enough time has passed, or because we decided we're "over it." Daddy issues show up in a million different ways.

There's losing your dad to death. The one who was supposed to walk you through the world, teach you how it worked, make you feel safe in it.

There's spending your whole life chasing approval from people who will never give it — bosses, partners, strangers on the internet — because somewhere inside you're still just a kid waiting for your dad to say you did good.

There's the wound of the father who was physically there but emotionally absent. The one who sat at the dinner table every night and still felt like a stranger. The loneliness of being unseen by the person who was supposed to really see you.

There's falling in love with someone emotionally unavailable and calling it chemistry. There's performing and achieving and shrinking and raging — all of it in the shape of a question your dad never answered.

There's the wound of the father you never had, but fantasized about. The deep grief of letting go of that dream and confronting the crushing reality of the father you actually got.

There's waking up to the reality that your dad was just a wounded kid himself — and sitting with the impossible task of holding both your compassion for him and your fury at what he didn't give you.

The wound of wanting a father figure so badly that you've made some truly questionable choices trying to find one. You know what you did.

There's the grief of realizing you weren't the father you wanted to be — that you repeated things you swore you never would, all while you were just trying to survive.

Daddy issues show up in who we vote for and who we marry. In how we hold authority and how we resist it. In the way we can't ask for help, or can't stop seeking it.

They show up in the men who can't cry and the people who can't stop. In the ones who hustle themselves to dust trying to be worth something. In the ones who blow everything up right when it starts to go well.

The scars and grief we carry from daddy issues are everywhere. And they deserve to be seen — not just by your therapist or your journal, but in real life, in real community, with a real drink in hand.

We deserve to openly laugh and cry about our fathers, not just quietly carry the weight of it with our guilt and our "it could have been worse."

We deserve a community of witnesses to stand with us in that place of pain and unmet needs — to clink our glasses together and say, "TO DADDY ISSUES!"

Because nobody can cure the grief of the father wound. It's a sacred wound that lives with us forever. But we can find new opportunities for "fathering" — for introducing new archetypes, figures, and rituals into our lives. We don't have to grieve alone. We can miss our fathers, together.

Most of us who are grieving don't want to just grieve. We also want to love, laugh, and be part of the party.

Grounded Grief x Rhinestone PDX have turned "Happy Hour for Sad People" into a monthly residency. Every fourth Monday of the month, we're taking over the bar to prove that just because we're sad doesn't mean we don't want to be invited to the party. We want a space where grief can float in and out—where tears are welcome amidst laughter, and where your heaviest emotions can sit right next to your favorite cocktail (or mocktail).

Because grief doesn't just need a special "sanctuary" or private room. Grief belongs everywhere because every human experiences it. Grief belongs at the party, too. Even if it's crying in the corner, it belongs in the midst of love and laughter because it wouldn't exist without those things.

What can you expect?

Whether you're grieving the loss of a loved one, a relationship, an identity, a dream, a health diagnosis, or the state of the world—you are welcome here.

• Grief-themed games designed to help us laugh and move through our grief without drowning in it (think: BINGO for S*ht People Say when You're Grieving*, Mad Libs, & We're Not Really Strangers style prompts).
• Special grief-themed cocktails + mocktails cooked up by the rad owners of Rhinestone PDX.
• A community of people who are figuring out how to keep loving even in the face of tremendous loss.
• Zero pressure to share anything you don't want to share. You can go as deep or stay as shallow as you want. There is no "right" way to grieve and no requirement to share your story out loud.
• A licensed therapist-led space that's facilitated expertly. You don't have to worry about one person dominating the space; you'll leave feeling a little more supported and uplifted, not depressed.
• The Vibe: We're here to talk about our most intense losses and the stupid show we watched on TV last night. Because we contain multitudes.
• First time? You're in good company. Many people come solo, and our facilitator makes sure everyone feels included from the jump.