Lu Hartmann
empty nest, new city, and a calendar that finally filled back up
$20/hour , set by Lu Hartmann. Your first session with them is free.
When our youngest left for college, my husband and I looked at each other across a four-bedroom house in Dayton and realized we'd been talking about the kids for eighteen years straight. We sold the house in 2021 and moved to Tucson, where we didn't know a soul, and I cried in a Fry's grocery store the first week because the layout was wrong.
I did it badly before I did it well. I waited for invitations that were never coming. Around month four I made myself a rule: one new thing a week, no matter how dumb. The dumb things worked. A hiking group I found on a laundromat flyer. Tuesday shifts at a used bookstore. Now my week has actual people in it.
Talking with me is like coffee with a friend who takes notes. You tell me what's true right now, we pick your one thing for the week, and I'll want the full story next time, including the awkward parts.
More background
What I actually know: relocating after the kids leave, making friends from absolute scratch in your 50s, filling weekdays when your whole identity was somebody's mom, and the marriage renegotiation nobody warns you about when it's suddenly just the two of you at dinner. I'm best for women 48 to 70 who moved somewhere new (or want to) and feel invisible there, and for empty-nesters who haven't moved but might as well have, the house feels that different. I'm not the right person if what you're carrying is depression or anything clinical; I'll be honest and nudge you toward a professional, warmly but firmly. Also not great for people who only want a cheerleader, because I will lovingly call you out when you've skipped your one thing three weeks running. I'm on Mountain time, best mid-morning, and never the first week of any month, that's when the grandkids visit. Between sessions I love a rambling voice message and I'll send one back just as rambling, plus your assignment in writing so neither of us can pretend we forgot it.