“I have been avoiding all society, skulking away at home in a kind of shame.
I am staying away from others because…I’m afraid,
and I don’t have the grace to conceal it.”
Katherine May, “Wintering”

When Bear died, I had no idea how long it would take to be part of the world again, how much time I would need to spend in solitude, how many shadows I would need to face and bring into the light so they could be seen, understood, and healed.

I didn’t realize how much this path would change me and that I would have to get to know myself again before I could even start to think about building a new life.

And I couldn’t foresee that more devastating circumstances would arise that would leave me financially destitute and physically shattered.

It has felt like everything that gives me a sense of security and safety in the world has been torn away, and I’ve been left sitting alone in the rubble wondering how on earth to keep going.

It’s an odd place to be in. Terrifying, heartbreaking, yet strangely liberating. When everything is broken, we have the chance, when we’re ready, to make something new. Yes, there’s fear to work through, grief to manage, and a lot of clearing to do, but then one day I’ll look up and all that work will be done and it will be time to create something good.

I’m not there yet.

I’m still in the scary, messy middle, doing my best to care for my body, rebuild my finances, and clear away the rubble. And that’s OK. The inner work I’ve done over the past 18 months has prepared me well for this. I know that no cycle of life, good or bad, lasts forever. This wintering of the soul will give way to spring one day, but for now, I need to live this pain and loss.

I try to make it as easy as possible for myself. I take myself outside for a walk every day and lift my face to the autumn sunshine. I pick flowers in my gardens and put them in bowls around my cottage to cheer me. I journal and read in the wee hours of each morning to make sure I give all my feelings and experiences a voice and then figure out the next right step for me.

I go to therapy and visit my doctor, I take the herbal remedies my lovely herbalist prescribes, I drink lots of water and rest and make nourishing food and spend time with beautiful people who make this scary, messy middle so much easier to bear. It all helps.

For a long time, I couldn’t envision a future for myself, but I hoped that if I was patient and did the healing work, I would figure something out.

Recently, I’ve felt a shift, and some beautiful ideas have started clarifying in my mind and heart.

I’m not ready to share them yet, but I’m so grateful for the hope they bring in this difficult time.

It’s become important to me to share stories while they’re still happening, while they’re still foggy and muddled and hurt like hell. That’s when we need each other most to provide love, support, comfort, or even just a tiny light in the darkness. So, from my messy middle to yours, I wish you deepest comfort, strength to hold on, and true rest in body, mind, and spirit.

Several of you have asked how you can help, and that means so much to me. xo If you’d like to help out financially, you can send funds via Paypal to ramblingtart@gmail.com Hearing from you always cheers me up, so, please keep sending messages or letters when you feel up to it. I love hearing about what you’re learning, going through, and discovering. xo