by Krista | Apr 9, 2018 | Autumn
Since February, we’ve been dealing with a man who is stalking me. We put up No Trespassing signs, installed guard dogs, filed reports with the police, and issued warnings, but nothing has stopped him.
Last week I walked out of our kitchen and there he was, on our doorstep.
Thankfully Bear was home and we did exactly what the police told us to do: I stayed in the house on the phone with the cops, while Bear kept him talking long enough for the police to get here.
We’ve added locks to our gates, another guard dog just for me, and the police have promised to get here immediately should he show up again. I’ve been taking self-defense lessons and I practice scenarios with Bear on What To Do If This Happens Again.
Mostly I’ve been working through fear.
Since I arrived in Australia, our farm has been my safe haven, my oasis, my place of peace and security. He shattered that. And for a while, I couldn’t rest. My body returned to the fight or flight state it had been in for so many years, and only recently healed from. Nightmares came back, and I wasn’t sleeping well, always listening for him so I could protect myself and be safe.
I also wrestled with shame, because Truly Strong Women aren’t supposed to be afraid. They’re supposed to be so strong in themselves that no outside force can disturb their peace.
I’m not sure where this idea comes from, this notion that true strength is not being affected by events and behavior around us, this ludicrous idea that some emotions and reactions are bad and others are good. When emotions are put into Positive and Negative camps, they add twisted things to the mix: an odd sense of security when you’re feeling the positive, and shame when you’re feeling the negative.
Over the weekend I decided I’d had quite enough of shame, so I decided to simply let myself be afraid without judgment or condemnation or attempts to suppress or change.
And I observed something very interesting.
Fear with shame is crippling, isolating, debilitating. It made me want to hide away from the world, stay home with doors locked and window shades pulled, keep myself closed off from anything that could hurt or endanger me.
Fear without shame is clarifying, grounding, empowering. It helped me be real and honest with myself and Bear and the police. “I’m scared and he is scaring me, so what do I do?”
It was so comforting to give myself permission to be scared. It took away the fear of the fear, and allowed me to focus on a plan instead.
I’ve been practicing Causing A Scene with Bear, because that doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m getting quite good at hollering loudly, and giving Bear much amusement in the process.
I talked it all through with the police and I know exactly what to do within the bounds of Australian law, which is quite different from what I grew up with.
And I keep on living beautifully, hand in hand with fear. I was afraid and made rose petal jam. I was afraid and made medieval wool tassels and braided cord. I was afraid and baked Earl Grey cheesecakes and a big pot of Smoked Ham and Potato Soup.
Letting fear hang out with me as long as it needs to has been an amazing thing. I’m still afraid of him. He’s a bastard and a bad man and he does scary things, but I’m not crippled by the fear. I can be afraid of him and still live a beautiful life. I can be afraid to go to town, and still go to town and have a great time. I can be afraid of being alone on the farm, and still be alone on the farm and have a great day. I can be afraid of travelling by myself, and still travel by myself and have a great trip.
Last night I had my first good sleep. No nightmares. No anxiety. No laying awake in the dark thinking of worst case scenarios. I just slept. I’ve had some alone hours on the farm, and they’ve been lovely. Feeding the animals, sighing happily over baby chicks and a newborn lamb, watering the new seedlings that popped up, cuddling my awesome guard pup, Fezzik, who is already protecting me beautifully. And I’ve planned a solitary road trip for myself for later this week. I’m going to the mountains and the ocean and will have a picnic on the beach with a good friend.
The bad man may scare me, but he doesn’t get to steal my life, and that is a wonderful thing. xo
by Krista | Mar 26, 2018 | Autumn
It is quiet and still this afternoon. Fezzik, our new Rottweiler pup, is sleeping on the floor beside me, a pork roast is slow-cooking in the oven, filling the house with wonderful smells, and the cuckoo clock is ticking softly, making everything feel peaceful and steady.
I’m feeling so thankful today after a decidedly rough couple of weeks.
I’ve had a feeling for a while that my body was nearly ready to tackle the next layer of bad stuff from my past. I wasn’t looking forward to it – the darkness is painful and sad and awful – but I was looking forward to the light I knew would come after.
The trigger came the day a friend asked, “Did this happen to you?” That simple question blasted a hole in the dam of that next layer, and memories and flashbacks poured in like a flood. That week was supposed to be spent writing my travel articles early so I wouldn’t be cramming at the end, but instead it was spent processing those memories, grappling with grief and fear and pain, wrestling with the painful truth that no one is all good or all bad.
It would be so much easier to deal with bad guys if they were all bad, but they aren’t. And I think that’s what traps us sometimes, what keeps us in abusive relationships, families, work situations, friendships. I think that’s what makes us feel guilty when we break off contact or limit contact or set boundaries with people. Yes, we tell ourselves, this person makes me afraid, insecure, unworthy of love or kindness or respect, this person physically harms me, emotionally crushes me or spiritually abuses me, BUT sometimes they’re really nice, so we stay, and other people think they’re really nice, so we stay, and we don’t have enough money/support/knowledge to leave, so we stay.
It’s the staying part that crushed me the most this week. How could I not have known that “this” wasn’t OK? How could I have “let” them do this? How could I not have done then what I would do now?
My friend, Alyssa, shared these words, and how I love them:
“Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know before you learned it.”
There’s life in those words, life and hope and comfort.
So I did the healing work.
I wrote out the truth of what happened, how it affected me, and how it made me feel.
I drew out the truth.
I spoke out the truth.
And I forgave myself for not knowing what I didn’t know before I learned it.
Through it all, I took extra good care of myself, because such things take the stuffings out of us, don’t they? Homemade soup, walks outside, puppy cuddles, hubby cuddles, as much sleep and rest as I could get.
And when all the bad was out, it was time to fill in those spaces with good things, with truth, with connections to good, loving people.
We had our medieval friends over for a sausage-roast over the campfire, fun projects, and, most importantly, good hugs. When you’ve worked through betrayals from the past, it’s deeply healing to connect with the faithful friends.
We went for bike rides and painted on the veranda and bought flowers and seedlings to put in my gardens.
I also started building good, loving connections with my past. Remembering the good things doesn’t blot out the bad things or make them OK, it just reminds me of the good things that shaped me, kept my soul intact, and gave me the courage and strength to survive the bad.
I drew pictures of the things and people and experiences that brought me joy then and bring me joy now: singing around the Christmas tree, camping in the Canadian wilderness, beloved books and old movies, popcorn, cheese and apples every Sunday night, campfires and s’mores, sleigh rides at night over the Alberta prairies, listening to audio books on road trips, playing with legos, canoeing when mist still hung over the lake, watching old Disney movies, reading old books.
These are the things from my past that I cherish, the things I carry with me into the life I have now, a life I’m beyond grateful for.
What are precious things from your past that bring you joy today? xo
by Krista | May 23, 2017 | Autumn
It’s a quiet and sunshiny morning on our farm. Our resident tawny frogmouths have gone back to bed after hunting through the night, perched just outside the hollow where their clutch of eggs is hiding. They blend in so perfectly with the branches of the huge gum tree, that it’s a game for Bear and me to find them every day.
I’ve learned that life on a farm is a mix of inspiring beauty, simple pleasures, and gutting loss. Newborns and fresh produce and breathtaking sunsets go arm in arm with devastating hail storms, flooding, and death. This week a fox, or two, dug a hole under the chicken yard fence and went on a rampage, killing everything in sight. Only one turkey and four chickens survived. We were so sad, yet also thankful for the plucky survivors, including our favourite hen who hid for two days before showing up at the gate ready for some lunch. We were so happy to see her alive and well.
We mourned the loss, then took a deep breath and moved on, making the most of a bad situation. We’ve been wanting to shift the birds into new pens so we could plant the old ones with all sorts of greens they love to eat, then cover with specially made elevated grates Bear designed which will allow the birds to have access to fresh grasses and plants without being able to scratch out the roots. Now we don’t need to shift the birds, and can plant nearly all the pens right away. They will be lush and green when it’s time to rebuild our flock, providing them with a constant source of nutritious foraging.
We also get to plan our new flock, choosing the varieties we want most, and bringing them home as we find them. I’m so excited about that. I love going to farms and acreages, choosing the birds to join our little family.
Amidst the loss there is much good. I took the last week to spend more time looking after us. Making sure we’re getting enough rest and relaxation, ensuring “we” don’t get lost amidst projects and tasks. It’s been lovely. We’ve been watching French cooking dvds while we eat breakfast, getting thoroughly inspired with delectable ways to use the foods we grow and raise. We’ve turned errands into dates, making an animal feed run an excuse for lunch at a bakery and a gorgeous drive in the country. We’ve taken naps and sat around the campfire with dear friends, getting our bodies and hearts revived and restored.
Personally it’s been good too. Getting in bed early each night so I can read a bit before sleep has done wonders for cutting down on nightmares. Choosing light-hearted fare – Amelia Peabody, Phryne Fisher, Enid Blyton – gives my brain happy things to focus on and ensures a much better sleep. There’s something about feisty heroines and adventurous children that put my heart and mind in a good place.
My gardens continue to bring me much joy. This incredibly warm Autumn has plants and fruit trees all mixed up. I’ve been harvesting peas for weeks and our apple trees are flowering. Tomato plants are popping up everywhere and my elderflower hedge is getting blossoms again. Winter is only a week away, but you’d never know it with all the Spring growth everywhere.
Yesterday I spent an entire afternoon outside. Pure bliss. I dug new garden beds and transplanted rainbow chard and Red Russian kale, and planted caraway and meadowsweet. The radishes, coriander, red onion, purple carrots, and leeks I planted earlier are all sprouting beautifully. Striped eggplants, capsicums, and chilies continue to produce, and I’ve been harvesting purple-topped turnips, sugar snap peas, and snow peas nearly every day. Beetroots and red carrots are nearly ready to harvest, and romaine, mustard greens, and silverbeet are getting bigger and bigger.
My herbs are thriving after the good rain we had last week. I’ve started making borage tea and will be adding it to our apple wine to see if it really does give courage like medieval people believed. I made a huge vat of comfrey tea yesterday, and will let it ferment for the next while until it’s ready to pour over my gardens and give everything a good feed. I’ve been shoveling manure and hauling straw for mulch, lugging bags of feed and picking up trash a naughty dog scattered hither and yon. It feels so good to be outside, sun on my shoulders, wind in my hair, geese, dogs, and goats coming to see what I’m up to.
Today is a writing day and I’m looking forward to it. I’m tucked up in bed with a view of trees and blue sky, ready to spin sentences and string together paragraphs, edit photos and submit articles. It’s going to be good.
How are you taking care of yourself this week? xo
by Krista | May 12, 2017 | Autumn
It’s dark and quiet, only one lamp shining so I don’t wake Bear who is slumbering beside me. Work is done and I’m winding down with a cup of tea and a Phryne Fisher novel.
We’ve had a lot going on this week, and it’s lovely to just sit and look back and be thankful for all that’s transpired.
Our goat herd is smaller now, and although it was hard for me to say good-bye to our big, gentle billy and some of our girls, I’m at peace because they went to a good home with good people where they’ll be safe, loved, and well cared for.
We moved our geese into the apple orchard where they can eat down the weeds that have been flourishing since the big rains. When they’ve cleaned it up, we’ll shift them to the big orchard where they can continue to eat and fertilize our grape vines and citrus, plum, and peach trees while they’re at it.
I dug and watered new garden beds, and will plant them with meadowsweet, caraway, angelica, and marshmallow soon. I used up my latest harvest of chili peppers and eggplants by making a range of hot sauces. Some made my eyes water and nose run, while others were mild but flavorful. I also harvested half of my horseradish, and made a creamy horseradish sauce to go with our slow-cooked beef tonight. So fresh and zingy, I loved it.
My favorite project this week was picking olives with Bear.
It was beautifully dark and cloudy, just the sort of weather I love for working outside. The chilly winds sent the olive branches dancing, and I was glad for a snug sweater to keep me warm while I worked.
We picked and picked, gliding our hands down the slender branches, hearing the satisfying plop of ripe olives into the containers strung around our necks.
Sometimes we worked alone, picking our way carefully through brambles, taking care to avoid the occasional cluster of paper wasps. Other times we were side by side, visiting amiably, pulling down branches so we could harvest the dense clusters of olives that always seem to be just out of reach.
Picking olives is meditative work, gentle, steady, and quiet. After a couple of hours we were tired but peaceful, so excited about the mounds of olives ready to start curing. We thanked our friends for sharing their bounty and balanced the buckets of olives carefully in the car so they wouldn’t tip over on the way home.
Today I started the soaking process. In ten days I’ll put them in a salt brine, and a few weeks after that, I’ll put them in crocks with a light brine flavored with garlic, bush lemon zest, rosemary, fresh dill, or anything else that takes my fancy.
Now, though, it’s time to snuggle in bed with my book.
What is your favorite project from this week? xo
by Krista | May 9, 2017 | Autumn
It’s cold tonight, and I’m tucked up in bed in a nest of blankets, garbed in flannel pjs with a scarf wrapped snugly around my neck.
It’s been a strange few months for me. Some things in my world have gone topsy-turvy, upsetting cherished ideas, plans, and commitments, forcing me to look at myself, my future, my life in an entirely different light than I have before.
It’s been scary and unsettling and, eventually, after tears and freak outs and finding the courage to stare it all in the face, rather exciting.
It all started with one unscrupulous employer. Then another. Then one more. (When things come in threes, I tend to sit up and take notice.) The first was merely unreliable, the second a sexual predator I reported, the third an international scam artist I had to report to the government so they could launch an investigation. Seriously whackadoodle stuff that shook me more than a little bit and left me broke, feeling rather adrift, and none too keen to trust new people. It also triggered some rather dreadful memories from my past, and I had to take some time to process things and figure out what I was going to do next.
I spent a lot of time outside, letting gardens and animals and wind and trees and sunshine and campfires and walks do their healing, strengthening work.
I read a lot, letting stories and poems and the musings of others help me navigate my own thoughts and feelings until I could see clearly instead of through a heavy fog of fear and uncertainty.
I reminded myself of the collaborations that I have with people who truly are wonderful, reliable, and a joy to work with. (Andy, Carrie, Cory, and Rowan, I’m looking at you. XO)
Yes, there are spectacularly awful people in this world, liars and cheats and plain ol’ disgusting wretches, but there are supremely marvelous people too, ones who inspire and support and cheer. Encountering the bad ones has made me treasure the good ones even more.
After the initial shock wore off, I could see the situations with genuine pride. In the past when I was treated poorly I just took it. I let abusers and manipulators and nogooddirtyrottenscoundrels trample all over me. Not this time. This time I stood up for myself and made them accountable for their behavior by reporting them to the proper authorities. I wasn’t a victim, and that feels really good.
Those situations also made me look at myself differently, and see if there were ways I could be brave and expand my own business to be my main business instead of a sideline.
So I’ve been brainstorming and talking with business friends and crunching numbers and making plans and sketching out big dreams. Slowly but surely things are coming together, and I’m so excited to share with you what’s ahead.
I won’t say too much yet, there are still a few more important details to be sorted, but I wanted to let you know I’m excited. My spirit is happy dancing and whenever I think of it I smile. Pretty sure that’s a good sign.
In the meantime I do the work I have with beautiful collaborators I love and trust, I learn how to stretch pennies further than they’ve ever been stretched, and I practice living in hope instead of fear. I also do little things that make me happy: medieval projects, picking olives with Bear, and making way too many bottles of hot sauce.
Things are going to be OK.
xo
by Krista | Apr 26, 2017 | Autumn
I never cease to be amazed at how much good a little rest does to my body, mind, and spirit.
This week I was tired to my bones. Nightmares returned a few weeks ago, the worst nightmares I’ve had yet, filling me with fear and anxiety before my head even hit the pillow. Instead of waking up rested, I woke screaming and crying with Robbie shaking me telling me I’m safe, he’s here, the dreams aren’t real. The rapes, the torture, the beatings of my nightmares weren’t real.
I’ve learned that when nightmares return, it’s my body’s way of telling me, “OK, luv, it’s time to heal more. It’s time to go deeper.”
I dread it every time, but I’ve learned that the only way out is through, and on the other side is light.
In the past I’ve tried all sorts of things to make the nightmares stop. Nothing works. They stay until they’re ready to leave.
Instead I’ve learned to prepare myself to handle them better.
This time I’ve sat quietly with myself before bed and ask if there’s any unresolved issue that needs to be addressed, memories I’ve blocked out that need to be looked at, feelings I’ve been stuffing down that need to be aired and validated. There’s always something, sometimes big, sometimes small. And when I take the time to sit with that issue – no judgment, no shaming, no suppressing – just sitting and looking and being with that issue, the pressure is released, like letting air out of a too-full tire.
I don’t stay in that place long, just long enough for the pressure to ease, for the truth to be spoken, for my feelings and thoughts to be heard, seen, and validated.
Then I look at books of beautiful gardens or artwork or illustrations, things that calm and soothe, comfort and inspire, and remind me of the good things I treasure.
And before I go to sleep, I remind myself that no matter what I dream about, the truth is I am safe, I am loved, and light will come in the morning. The light will always, always return.
The nightmares left two nights ago, and this time their departure was amicable rather than abrupt. In a strange way it feels like we’re partners now, not enemies. They’re messengers and guides who help me face things I wouldn’t otherwise face. In their own way, albeit brutal, they help me heal and reveal my strength. With their darkness, they reveal the tremendous light in my life, and help me treasure the people and experiences that make my life so precious and rich.
This morning, as I wait for the sun to come up and listen to Bear pottering in the kitchen making cuppas, I feel thankful that this time the nightmares didn’t cripple me. They’re awful, yes, but they don’t last. They don’t stay forever. And in their wake they leave deeper healing, greater strength, and much more courage.
xo
