Yesterday afternoon as thick, black clouds blotted out the sun and made our little world wonderfully dark and still, I sat on the veranda with my Luna girl and just enjoyed it. Grass parrots flitting about in streaks of color, occasional bleats from the newborn goats in the paddock, our three little sheep trotting along from one grassy morsel to the next. In such moments our farm feels like a world unto itself. How I love it.
The last couple of months have been precious to me, ones of healing so deep that I nearly feel giddy from the heady sensation of darkness dispelled and crushing burdens dissolved. I knew my physical ailments were rooted in past trauma, but I had no idea how much until those traumas were addressed, healed, and released, and my pain went with them.
I’ve been on pain killers nearly every day since I got out of the cult fifteen years ago. Now I only need them on rare occasions, usually after a treatment as my body lets go of all the bad stuff. I haven’t had a nightmare in months. I fall asleep quickly, sleep well, and wake up most days without an alarm clock – which is saying something since I get up at 1:50 a.m. for work.
The biggest change has been the connected feeling I have within myself. As a coping mechanism, I learned to disassociate, to disconnect from myself and others, but I don’t need to do that anymore. And bit by bit, like collecting puzzle pieces that were thrown hither and thither by an enthusiastic toddler, I’m being pieced back together again. It’s been the most exquisite reunion, a wondrous sense of wholeness.
I’m deeply grateful for the lovely Bernie Giggins who has done so much to heal this battered heart and body of mine. Her kindness, wisdom, and marvelous sense of humor have seen me through the darkest moments of my life with a sense of security and strength. I’m still working through things, still finding areas that need to be visited and healed, but the progress I’ve made thus far means the world to me and gives me such hope.
That’s why I’ve been so quiet here. It’s been my time to be my own Mama Bear, to look after own soul with all the ferocity and loyalty of a grizzly mother. To fight for quietness and rest so my body can recuperate after each healing session. To protect my time to learn new ways of being, behaving, and connecting that are healthy and loving and good. And to focus on the things that bring me joy: my people, my gardens, animals, and books, my art and going on little adventures.
I haven’t had words until now. Not for my journal, not for my blog, not even to speak, but I’m finding them, and as I string them together, I’ll share them here.
It’s winter here now, but you’d never know it. I’m still picking tomatoes, my pea vines are covered with pods, and we have baby goats leaping about all over the place. It’s marvelous.
Bear and I have been doing all sorts of creative projects: building high backed medieval chairs, sewing a medieval quilt, and wood-burning everything from boxes to wooden clogs. I made a potting shed for my gardens and have been weaving sticks into my garden fences to create an artsy barrier for our goats. I made quince jam and Hungarian sausages, hot pepper jelly and apple wine. It’s been so fun.
One thing I’ve learned through all this is the importance of little adventures, and in the weeks to come I’ll be sharing some of my favorites from the last couple of months.
What is your favorite way to Mama Bear your heart? xo