Messy Midlife & Tiny Snowman
Latte, Po, and how I'm letting go 🐍
Before you read on, I want to acknowledge the injustice and cruelty that continue to unfold in the United States right now at the end of January, 2026. I’m not ignoring that reality, nor am I minimizing it by sharing something personal here. For this moment, though, I’m choosing to create a respite for your soul—a place to set the heaviness down and take a breath, and gently return to what you can focus on: you.
A few weeks ago, on a frigid day in Seoul, the kids and I ducked into a sweet little tea shop in the Insadong neighborhood. We ordered warm drinks and treats, and tucked ourselves into a cozy corner to thaw out.
When my order arrived, it came with a small snowman—casually lounging, his happy belly propping him up. Something about him brought me immediate joy. The kids loved him, too. We named him Latte, because… well, he came with one.
Without stopping to ask whether it was legitimate or not, I took possession of Latte. He was mine—even if this technically qualified as a very gentle form of burglary. I honestly didn’t care. He was too cute, too dear—the perfect little souvenir I didn’t know I needed.
Latte now sits under a bonsai tree on my windowsill, next to a tiny swan and a tiny chicken. He seems content to join the menagerie. They, too, seem happy with the new addition. More importantly, he brings me a surprising amount of grounded joy whenever I look at him.
Grounded joy AND a grand amount of grief, actually.
I recently sent the kids a picture of Latte with his new friends under their tree, reminding them of that sweet morning—one that only the three of us shared. The moment I hit send, I felt that unmistakable both/and in my whole body.
I felt the
“I am so glad we got to do that together.”
And the
“I am so sad you’re no longer part of my daily life.”
I felt the
“I love you more than words can express — more than you could ever know.”
And the
“I miss you so much my heart actually hurts.”
Who knew that a tiny snowman could stir such intense feelings in my midlife, empty-nester, menopausal being?
Or maybe I should say—of course a tiny snowman could do that. At this stage of life, almost anything can, especially when the Po is so present in me.
What is Po, you ask?
In Chinese Medicine, Po is the part of us that lives close to the body—the soul of the Lungs that feels loss in the chest and knows how to grieve because it loved.
Po holds joy and grief in the same breath, reminding us that the ache doesn’t mean something is wrong; it means something mattered, and the exhale is still finishing what the heart already knows.
When Po is out of balance, it doesn’t help us process grief in a healthy way. Instead, we may distract ourselves from it, suppress it, or cover it with anger or resentment.
When Po is in harmony, it allows us to fully embody our emotions—feeling them without being overtaken by them, processing loss without losing ourselves or slipping into self-sabotage or nervous system dysregulation.
In these final weeks of the Wood Snake year, Po is the spirit we are being asked to nurture. The Wood Snake wants us to shed what no longer fits—and Po is the part of us that knows how to let the old skin go, gently, through the body and the breath.
Three ways to nurture your Po:
1. Tend to your breath.
Slow, conscious breathing—especially long exhales—signals safety to the nervous system and gives emotions a way to move instead of getting stuck.
2. Let something go physically.
Po processes endings through the body and the material world. Clearing a drawer, giving something away, or releasing an object tied to an old chapter helps the body understand that a cycle has completed.
3. Allow grief without fixing it.
Po doesn’t need reframing or positivity—it needs permission. When there is loss—of a life, a role, a chapter, a relationship, or even an expectation—you are supposed to feel sad.
Po wants you to let yourself BE SAD.
Po wants your Qi to move so you can THRIVE.
I embrace all of Latte and his pudgy belly, and what he allows me to do: to be happy and sad, to hold gratitude and grief, and to love amidst loss.
In short, Latte reminds me that it’s okay to be a messy, midlife, imperfectly perfect human (mom).
Do you have a Latte?
If not, I highly recommend finding an object that can do that for you. Having a reminder like this doesn’t just help keep your Po in balance—it helps you live a little fuller, a little more honestly.
It also helps you stay grounded, regulated and real, which is what you need to show up as the best version of yourself.
Sending you warmth and love today,
xoxo
Kit
P.S. Do you need support with regulating your nervous system? I can help!
Book a Holistic Acupuncture Session here.