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The Light Will Come

The late afternoon sun is casting long shadows through the trees, illuminating vivid green grass that sprang up since we had luscious rain a few nights ago. I’m sitting in bed in front of a fan, sipping apple wine, watching the day wind down in stunningly beautiful fashion.

I worked hard on the farm today, weeding and watering, transplanting and mulching, transforming overrun gardens into orderly patches again. I tidied up the farm yard, collecting fallen branches and leaves blown in from recent storms then hurtled willy-nilly around the place. I cleaned out the sheep pen and set the manure out in the sun to dry a bit more before it’s ready to spread on my gardens, then started the mammoth project of the goat yards. A freak wind storm flattened one of our sheds and the goats had a marvellous time spreading everything they found, and I do mean everything, all over their yard. Ayiyi. I’m about half way done and although every bit of me aches, it feels absolutely fantastic to see order restored, bit by bit.

It’s been a really rough week for me, so I treasured this day outside in the gorgeous late summer sunshine. My doc says healing from trauma is like peeling an onion. Sometimes the layers come off easy-peasy, but others, like this latest one, are downright awful, stubbornly sticking, and making your eyes water and nose run.

I’m learning to make peace with these layers, the ones that tear me open and wrack my body with pain and make night time a scary place because that’s when the bad dreams come. The layers that make me feel vulnerable, scared, and too messed up to be loved. I’m learning that it’s OK to not feel OK, to feel the darkness close in and remember that it won’t stay dark forever.

I cried and took naps. I downed my supplements, stood in sunshine every day, and got extra chiro treatments so my body would be especially cared for while it processed this layer. I let Bear know I was wobbly and might need more hugs than usual. I said sorry when my inner turmoil spilled over in ugly ways. And I took my pen and camera and recorded the good things that were around me, even in the darkness.

Like glorious sunsets.

purple sunset

And purple and pink skies.

Five cute new piglets named Crackling, Porky, Parma, Prosciutto, and Pancetta, and episodes of Psych that never fail to make me laugh.

Rain to make our world grow again, healing words from dear friends, and clean flannel sheets that feel like a hug when I climb in bed.

It is OK to not feel OK, but it sure helps to remember that even at our worst we are still loved, still wanted, still believed in and cheered for. We’ll get through this and the light will come. xo




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Lorraine - My dearest Krista, you are so brave and amaizing and willing to share. It is ok not to be ok! I have noticed that the brightest smile hides the darkest turmoil. We shouldn’t just grin and bare it. Sharing is healing and yes you are cared for and loved no matter how you feel ❤️

Tracy A. - While I am so sorry for your pain, I am so glad that you find ways I. Which to process and move through it. Your beautiful photos are evidence of that. Be well!

Cathy - All the best for you Krista to get through this difficult moment. Sounds like you are on the right path 🙂

Cheryl - We are not defined by our past. Enjoy that sunshine and being outside and with the precious animals. You deserve to be loved.

Sherry Kay - My sweet beautiful cousin…we are walking very similar journeys to healing. I am so thankful that you are moving forward and learning to love yourself…its so hard isn’t it. My body has literally been shutting down for years…code blues and too many ambulances, hospitals and even more abuse in there…so many layers…but I am slowly healing. Now that I’ve been med free for a year I can finally think clearly and process and sit in my pain without getting stuck there. I’ve got 44 years of tears to spill out but they are coming out finally and beautifully…and though my life is currently swirling chaos…more trauma than I could ever imagine just keeps getting added…I’m finally able to keep walking through each fresh storm. As the layers and scabs are coming off I am loving the fresh new healing pink skin underneath…as well as the old scars that will never disappear but make me the unique woman that I am. Gentle hugs to you dear soul. Xoxo

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