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.

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