by Krista | Mar 13, 2023 | Autumn
Shortly after Bear died I found an article that said the opposite of a trigger is a glimmer.
Whereas triggers set in motion trauma responses such as fear, pain, anxiety, and panic, glimmers prompt feelings of wonder, connectedness, peace, and joy. The article went on to explain that while triggers are unpredictable, generally hitting us out of nowhere and sending us reeling, glimmers are something we can actively look for, collect, and treasure.
Those words were a light in my darkness, reminding me that although I had no control over the devastation I was experiencing, the pain ripping through me, or the triggers that seemed to be everywhere, I could control what I looked for in the world.
When I wake to an empty bed, I can cry, yes, of course, any time, but I can also notice the rising sun turning the branches of our favourite tree to gold and hear the call of the magpies that Bear said would always be a reminder that he loves me and is with me.
When I have to go into yet another government office with my sheaf of paperwork and tell them my husband is dead, I can cry, yes, of course, any time, I can shake and want to bolt for the parking lot, but I can also notice the cute baby grinning at me from his pram and breathe a quiet thanks in my heart for the kind receptionist who gives me a hug and makes the process as smooth as possible.
When something breaks on the farm and I don’t know how to fix it, I can feel overwhelmed and alone and wish with all my heart for Bear’s clever brain and innate ability to fix anything, but I can also shout hooray when I find a YouTube tutorial that actually works or say thank you to one of Bear’s amazing friends who are always willing to talk me through how to use a chainsaw safely, how to repair a busted irrigation pipe, and what parts I need to keep the lawnmower running.
Some glimmers are easy to find because they come right to me – cuddles from dear friends visiting, finding an old love letter from Bear, the wagging tails of four dogs and eight puppies overjoyed to see me.
But others must be purposely hunted for, especially in dark moments or dark days when life feels bleak and meaningless and I can’t rummage up hope no matter how hard I try. In those times I picture myself putting on a pith helmet like explorers of old, squaring my shoulders, and hoping against hope that I will find something to light my next step.
And some days, we need our loves to help us. This past week as I faced a particularly difficult situation and all hope seemed truly lost, beautiful friends stepped in and hugged me tight, validated the awfulness of the situation, then helped me look for the glimmers I needed to renew my strength for the battle to come. How I love them for that.
Good and bad, light and darkness, easy and hard. Life continues to be a baffling blend of all those things and we need each other to make it through. Sometimes we’re the needy ones, sometimes the needed, and both are good. xo
by Krista | Jun 23, 2022 | Winter
I love the quiet darkness of winter mornings before the rising sun turns the frosted fields into shimmering gold laced with mist.
I wrap cold fingers around my coffee mug and close my eyes, listening to the steady ticking of the cuckoo clock, the rhythmic thumping of wagging tails outside the back door from dogs eager to come in for a snuggle, my heartbeat.
A few weeks ago there was no heartbeat.
I had taken my badly injured husband into the hospital to have his knee tended. We winced and grimaced together as the doctor probed and bent, figuring out the best way to get him back to fighting strength. The doc turned to update me on the plan then asked, “Are you OK? You don’t look good.”
I don’t remember much after that, but they told me later I scared the hell out of them when I collapsed, turned blue, was unresponsive, and had no pulse. They thought they’d lost me. Thankfully, ten rounds of CPR brought me back and I remember a woman saying, “There she is. We’ve got her.”
I’m so glad they didn’t lose me that day. So glad they fought for me and won.
The last month has been a flurry of hospital and doctor visits, ambulance runs, and innumerable tests, more collapses and more tests as we tried to figure out what on earth is happening with my dear ol’ heart.
Bear has been a rock through it all, teasing me about being his zombie wife in the good moments, hugging me tight during the weepy, scary ones. My luvs have been wonderful, cheering and comforting, calling or messaging to ask the all-important question, “Are you alive??!!” YES!
We don’t have all the answers yet, but I started on medication last week that is working wonders. Before, just walking to the car or into a shop had me shaky and breaking out into a sweat, needing to lay down before I toppled over. Not anymore. I’m able to garden again and run errands and work in the newsroom with no more zombie moments.
Such experiences have a big impact. It’s been scary and overwhelming, frustrating and exhausting. The what ifs haunt us now and then. What if it had happened while I was working on the farm or on the road for work and no one had been there to bring me back? We have much to be grateful for.
My world has slowed and quieted as I’ve made the changes necessary to bring my life back into alignment with my clarified values and priorities. Boundaries have been strengthened to make ample space for what I want to fill my days with, money invested in the tools and ingredients needed to do the things I love.
I’m off work today, so we have plans for adding purple asparagus, sugar snap peas, artichokes, and rainbow silverbeet to our winter gardens, making a run to the dump, and slow-cooking carnitas with cumin and orange juice. They’re just little things, but they make life beautiful to us.
What is making your life beautiful today? xo
by Krista | Jan 24, 2022 | Summer
I’m sitting in my office with one dog snoozing beside me and another stretching luxuriously on the veranda before she goes back to snoozing. I just finished the breakfast Bear made for me, my client work is done for the day, and now I get to sit a bit and watch the clouds roll in, dark and heavy with rain.
Today, as I acknowledge the myriad things I have no control over, I celebrate the choices I do get to make. They may be small, but they are powerful and I love them.
This week I’m waiting to see if I have cancer again.
Yesterday I had a biopsy and now, I wait, being gentle with myself as I float along the waves of fear and anxiety that inevitably come at times like this. I remind myself that I’m allowed to be scared because this is scary. I’m allowed to get a bit teary because this is hard. And then, when the waves pass, I’m allowed to hunker down into peace and find and create joy wherever I can.
This week I’m choosing to do the things that bring me joy: hanging out with Bear and our dogs, exploring nature, and reading new books that take me on vicarious adventures to Venice, Tasmania, Denmark, Ukraine, and England.
I love that even in our darkest times, we can choose goodness, choose the things that make the hard times easier to bear, and choose to let ourselves feel the yuck until we get through to peace. xo
by Krista | Nov 12, 2021 | Spring
I love deconstructing. Really, really love it. I love deconstructing recipes and furniture, appliances and books, politics and faith, working my way back to see all the components, figuring out how they work together, and seeing if there’s a better way.
I think deconstruction is one of the greatest privileges and responsibilities of being a grown-up because it leads to humility (I don’t know everything), compassion (nobody knows everything), and peace (it’s OK to not know everything).
Most of all, it leads to so much fun, adventure, and discovery. The world opens up when the preconceived ideas are dismantled, human beings are no longer the enemy but fellow travellers who have things to teach us, and our creativity flourishes as we press past boundaries and begin to build a new faith, community, political ideology, or way to make pancakes.
But first, we have to face the fear and prepare ourselves for backlash.
Institutions really, really, really dislike deconstruction. Political organisations, religious groups, businesses, friendships and families, they’d all prefer that we muddle along in a state of unquestioning acceptance and tradition because it makes things so much easier for them. They’re also rather fond of controlling people, and get quite cranky when we say, “No more.”
Sometimes it’s not about power or control, it’s simply the discomfort of change. Change in those we love is unsettling and scary, it threatens our sense of belonging, understanding, and security, it can make us feel like we’re being judged, abandoned, and as if our opinions, beliefs, and ideas don’t matter.
As I’ve deconstructed, I’ve lost community, family, and friends. I’ve been judged, rejected, gossiped and lied about. I was told I was evil, going to hell, and a shame to God, the church, and my community.
In the beginning, those reactions were devastating. They broke my heart and sent me through a long period of grief and mourning. And then, those reactions became a gift. They showed me the reality of how people saw me and freed me from relationships and institutions where I was not loved, accepted, and respected. And those lonely spaces they left in their wake? They were just what I needed to study, write, observe, examine, test, ponder, and discover.
Most of all, they gave me the time and space I needed to realise that going forward, no matter what happened, I would never abandon myself again. I would be my most devoted advocate, fiercest warrior, and dedicated worker-through-er-of-things so I could build a life grounded in reality, love, and adventure. Yes, adventure.
By choosing to see deconstruction as an adventure, it has become truly delightful. Yes, there are still periods of rage, grief, and loss as I uncover lies and process trauma, but I know now that each of those moments will be followed by peace, greater freedom, and deeper joy. I can go through the yuck because I know the wonder is coming. I can feel it as the trauma pain leaves my body, the nightmares lessen, my breathing becomes ever more deep and natural. I see it in my reactions to the world. I no longer have space for bullies or abusers, but my heart gives ample space for good folks with differing viewpoints, ideas, and thoughts. My world now is full of colour and nuance and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I write all this today firstly for myself, so I can celebrate how far I’ve come and how much I’ve learned, but secondly, for anyone who might be in deconstruction and feeling the terror of it.
You’re going to be OK. You really, really are. It’s going to be horrible and then beautiful, horrible, then beautiful, over and over until the beautiful begins to outweigh the horrible and the things and people that traumatised and harmed you will lose their power and you won’t feel the weight of them anymore.
You’re going to be OK because they lied to us. You don’t need faith to heal. You really don’t. You can heal with faith, and you can heal without it. Faith is not a determinant for healing from trauma and abuse anymore than it’s a determinant for healing from cancer or influenza or a broken leg. Anyone who tells you it is, is lying.
You’re going to be OK because you are never going to abandon yourself again. Slowly but surely you’re going to heal the disconnections with your own, dear self, you’re going to rebuild trust, you’re going to be able to distinguish your own voice from the clamour of others and find that it is wise and good and trustworthy.
You’re going to be OK because you have all the time you need to work through whatever you need to work through. There is no deadline, no exam, no evaluation, just good, steady, beautiful, loving work until you die. And every day when you wake up, you are enough, just as you are, no matter what stage of grief or healing or thriving you’re in. You’re just right and just where you need to be.
You’re going to be OK because you can do hard things. You’ve already done them. You’ve already survived lies and abuse and trauma and poverty and job loss and loneliness and rejection and illness and the loss of people you love. You’ve done all that. You’ve woken up every day and chosen life, and that is incredible.
You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to do this alone ever again. You can ask for help without shame, you can go to the doctor and keep going until you get the help you need, you can find a psychiatrist and keep trying them out until you get the one you need, you can get books from the library, listen to audiobooks and podcasts, join supportive Facebook communities, call depression or anxiety hotlines, go for walks, eat lots of veggies, drink enough water, sit in the sunshine, help others in need, take naps, cry your heart out, do something creative badly until you get better at it, whatever it takes to care for your own dear, beloved self. You are worth fighting for.
You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to know the ending to start the journey. You may end up with a beautiful new faith or a beautiful no-faith and no matter what anyone says, both of those are valid. If there is a God, he’s never, ever going to abandon you no matter what you are able to believe or not believe, and if there is no God, he was never there to begin with and you’re going to be just fine.
You’re going to be OK because you will find a home for yourself again. It’s going to be lonely for a while as you figure out who you are and what you believe, but, as you get settled in yourself, you’ll find people who will love you, as you. You will find good people who are loving and supportive and kind and will welcome you with open arms, people you can love and care for and who will do the same for you. There are people of faith and people of no-faith who are absolute gems and love based on a person’s humanity rather than whether they measure up to their correct idea of belief or not. There are good people who don’t care how you vote or what you believe, they just see and value you.
Lastly, you’re going to be OK because you don’t answer to anyone but yourself. You don’t owe anyone a description of your belief system or the state of your faith. You don’t have to explain it, defend it, or even define it. It belongs to you and you alone.
You might be a hope-er instead of a believer, you may retain faith but switch denominations, you may embrace a mix of pagan, Islam, and Christianity, you may toss all religion on the burn pile, you may simply not have the strength or energy to care anymore. It’s OK. That’s the other great thing about being a grown-up, you’re allowed to shape your own belief system. No one has the right to tell you what to believe. No one. They may think they have a monopoly on truth, but they don’t. It is simply impossible for any of us to have all the information in the universe to make a sufficiently informed decision about anything, so all we do is make our best guess. And frankly, when we realize that all of us are just guessing our way through life based on limited information, we’ll be a lot kinder to each other and a lot more humble.
One last thought. As humans, we get to keep growing, changing, and learning. We get to adjust and alter along the way as we learn and experience more. For me, there’s great comfort in this. This life is an adventure in every way, terrifying and exhilarating, mundane and wondrous. A deconstructed and mindfully rebuilt life is a glorious thing and I am so proud of you for doing this incredibly hard work.
Wishing you courage, endurance, and so much love as you explore and experiment and examine. You’re going to be OK. xo
by Krista | Jul 28, 2021 | Winter
Create space.
Create space for what matters to me. Space for what I want to learn, experience, understand, taste, and see. Create space for the life I want to live.
I’ve been mulling over these thoughts recently, taking time to observe how I spend my time and if it really, truly reflects what is important to me. My friend Mary recently shared this quote by Victoria Erickson:
“If you inherently long for something, become it first.
If you want gardens, become the gardener.
If you want love, embody love.
If you want mental stimulation, change the conversation.
If you want peace, exude calmness.
If you want to fill your world with artists, begin to paint.
If you want to be valued, respect your own time.
If you want to live ecstatically, find the ecstasy within yourself.
This is how to draw it in, day by day, inch by inch.”
Reading these words made me smile as it sent my mind whirling into the realms of what do I long for? What do I want? What delights, intrigues, and inspires me as I am now?
I’ve been playing with ideas for months, painting them, writing them, talking them through with Bear. I follow ideas like breadcrumbs, ideas for work and play and adventure and connection, experimenting as I go, embracing what sticks and releasing those notions that float on by.
In the beginning, it was really hard. My answers to my questions were mostly, “I don’t know.” My thoughts were muddied by musts and shoulds and by giving weight to voices not my own. But, I stuck with it, returning again and again to the question, “What do I want?” And slowly, steadily, clarity came, sometimes in bursts of inspiration, sometimes in gentle knowing. Each discovery was a gift, an affirmation deep in my heart, a hearty, confident YES.
I learned that I need to do a much, much better job at looking after myself. I need more rest, more downtime, more fun, more community, more adventure, more discovery. I’ve been creating space for those things and it has been so good for me, my marriage, my clients, my friendships, everything. I love seeing the glorious ripple effect of true self-care.
Some of the changes are really simple. I need more sleep than the average person, and I’ve finally made peace with it. I stopped setting my alarm and sleep until I wake up. I schedule meetings for later in the day so I can have a peaceful and leisurely start to my day and approach my projects and work and commitments from a place of rest and calm. My stress has plummeted and I have more time and energy to live my life rather than recovering from it.
I learned that walking and hiking are the best exercises for me. I hate going to the gym, running is the devil, but my whole being lights up at the thought of a hike in the mountains or a walk through the woods. Weight training is important for my strength and resilience, so I get that in through lifting feed bags, hauling rocks, and using a 6-foot crowbar to dig holes for trees, bushes, and fence posts. Rebuilding my body is no longer a misery. I know it will be a long process and I’m finally enjoying it and loving my body as it is even while I help it get fitter and stronger.
Other changes required some grieving and letting go. I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and I must adjust my life accordingly as I no longer have the strength and energy I once did. After grieving the loss of Old Me, I’m learning how to build a good life with Chronic Fatigue.
I still love gardening, but I’m shifting to gardens of mostly perennials, things that self-seed and look after themselves, plants that provide us with food without requiring so much effort from me. So, I’ve put in a lot of fruit trees, berry bushes, perennial herbs, and veggies like artichokes and asparagus that just keep going and going. I’ve put in drip-hoses to make watering easy, hung shadecloth to protect from the fierce Aussie sun and wind, and have Seasol and organic fertilizer pellets on hand to easily keep things well-fed.
We still love our farm, but we’re cutting way back on stock to make things easy to manage. When we sat down and talked things through we realised that we’d rather spend more time with each other and our luvs doing fun projects, visiting around the fire, and enjoying life. It will take time to downsize, but we’re looking forward to it.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about community. Covid has wreaked havoc in this area, disrupting so many events, traditions, and experiences where community is built and nourished. One way I’m connecting with people is through my workshops. I don’t do them to make money, but to create opportunities for relationships. Workshops are expensive to put on and I barely cover my costs each time, but I don’t mind because they give me a chance to get to know people and let them get to know me. For a few hours each month, we can immerse ourselves in creating something fun and interesting while being brave and opening ourselves to connections with potential kindred spirits.
I’ve loved every workshop. I’ve met wonderful strangers and forged new memories with old friends, heard amazing stories, laughed hard over the craziness of life, and even shared grief. No matter who attends the workshop or if things go smoothly, I always return home with a full heart, hopeful for the state of the world, grateful to the folks who take time out of their busy lives to invest in community.
I love that I never stop learning and growing and changing. I’ve heard folks say that people never really change, but I disagree completely. I’ve seen liars become truth-tellers, broken people become whole, fear turned into incredible courage. We can change, and that is a gift worth embracing and creating space for.
What is something you want to create space for in your life? xo
