This Part isn’t here to fix you. It’s here to witness you.

Grief isn’t just sadness.
It’s rage. It’s confusion. It’s survival.
It’s screaming in the car while being told to “stay strong.”
It’s holding your life together while everything inside you falls apart.

We’ve been taught to swallow it.
To smile through it.
To shrink it down so it doesn’t make others uncomfortable.

This Part rejects that.

This is where grief gets its voice back.
Where caregivers, survivors, and the quietly unraveling
can say the things they were never allowed to name.

Here, pain isn’t filtered.
Truth isn’t softened.
This space is yours to reclaim—loudly, tenderly, honestly.
When everything falls apart, the mask does too.
What’s left is real. What’s left is yours.

This Part is a growing platform with a mission to change the way we understand the experiences that undo us—
grief, caregiving, identity shifts, and the reckonings we’re rarely given space to name.
We’re starting with stories, but the vision is much bigger.

My Part of the Story

This is not the beginning of my story. And it’s not the end.
It’s the part in between, where everything changed.

One phone call cracked the foundation of my life:
My husband had stage 4 colon cancer.
Everything fractured, suddenly and completely.

There was no time to fall apart.
There were kids to raise.
Appointments to track.
 A life to keep upright while everything underneath it crumbled.

I became the default strong one.
The scheduler, the caretaker, the one people leaned on.
But inside, I was coming undone.
Grieving things no one could see, and no one asked about.

Then came another plot twist:
I found out I carry a gene that puts me at high risk for breast cancer.
So I chose to have a preventative double mastectomy and reconstruction,
not because I was sick, but because I refused to wait for the world to fall apart again.

Along the way, I became a ghost of myself, caught between the life I’d lived
and the unknown waiting ahead. I was too busy managing chaos to feel anything real.

I had to claw my way back. To feel anything.
To remember who I was.

That’s where This Part began.
In the middle.
In the mess.
In the refusal to keep pretending everything was fine.
The truths I’d been carrying quietly started asking to be written.
I tried to ignore them. They got louder.
Truth like:
Silence isn’t strength. It’s just a convenient way to make everyone else more comfortable while you slowly disappear.

And that’s what This Part is. A space for unspoken truths and to honor everyone who’s ever carried too much and stayed too quiet.
It’s where I’ve started telling the stories I never planned to share,
but couldn’t keep inside.

I didn’t expect to write this part. Not like this.
But the words came quietly at first, then relentlessly.
I’m not here with answers.
I’m not writing from the other side.
I’m just telling the truth where I am, as I am.
If you’re somewhere in the middle too,
still breathing, still breaking, still becoming—
Know this: you don’t have to do it alone.

This Part is yours too.
For all of us, learning to live through this part.
Welcome in. 🖤
-Kristina

Got questions about what This Part is (or isn’t)?

  • Geothermal area with steam rising from hot ground, rocky terrain with colorful mineral deposits, snow patches on mountainous landscape, overcast sky.

    Kristina Molnar

    FOUNDER

  • Layered mountain range with dark foreground peaks against a pastel sky and distant lighter mountains.

    Ryan Molnar

    CO-FOUNDER

Meet the team

FUTURE VISION

This Part is here to change the way we talk about the parts of life that break you open. This is a space for reckoning with what life has taken or changed.

We’re not offering platitudes. We’re not rushing people to "move on."
We’re creating space for the truths that usually get buried—the slow losses, the identity shifts, the quiet rage and exhausted hope of those living through the in-between.

There’s a massive gap in the grief support landscape, and we built This Part to change that.

We believe grief doesn’t need to be justified, it needs to be witnessed.

Our vision is to become a nonprofit platform powered by storytelling, community, and collective care. We aim to serve not just the grieving, but the caregivers, the cycle-breakers, the quietly unraveling—the ones who are often left out of traditional support systems. This Part is here to meet people where they are, not where the world thinks they should be.
When we make space for what’s real, we make room for something else, too: healing, in its own time and in its own way.

We envision:

  • A publishing platform for real, unfiltered stories of grief, illness, survival, and becoming

  • Paid opportunities for contributors from diverse, often unheard backgrounds

  • Digital and in-person workshops for writing through pain, identity, and transition

  • Launching a speaker and storytelling series, both virtual and live

  • Creating resources for truth-tellers, caregivers, grief-carriers, and cycle-breakers, those who need more than platitudes.

  • Community-led campaigns that break the silence around anticipatory grief, caregiver burnout, and losses that don’t fit in neat categories

  • A library of honest, practical resources for those who need more than clichés

This work is personal, but it’s also collective. And with the right support, we can build something that lasts.

Every donation helps lay that foundation. Every share helps grow the movement.
If you believe in this work, thank you. You're already part of what comes next.