I found myself in an unfamiliar place. Somewhere I hadn't been before. Or at least not for a long time.
It was like my light was slowly dimming.
I realised I was loosing hope, belief, optimism. And it was a slippery slope to find myself on. As the days passed, it felt like a downwards spiral. Moving further and further away from the light, and unsure how to even consider navigating my way back.
And it was a scary place. It wasn't at all the me I had come to know in recent years. I was all about believing, dreaming, trusting, the positive vibes.
But here I found myself. Where everything felt tossed into the air - so many questions, uncertainty, lack of clarity, sluggish, exhausted.
In some ways nothing felt enough. And in others it felt like I was always trying to hard. Whatever it was, it wasn't working.
The war, the climate, the rising cost of living, questioning my work, my lifestyle, my values, my priorities. Relationships, trauma, racism, sexism, finances, location... Layer upon layer building up over me, growing heavier and darker.
It was a lot.
I didn't have the answers. And I couldn't seem to shift out of it. My usual remedies not coming close to making much of a difference.
It was different this time. A much darker place than I had been in a while.
And the whole time, being so aware this wasn't a helpful place to find myself.
But sat in the garden one early spring day, I realised a few things...
I needed to be with these uncomfortable feelings.
I needed to allow them space.
And work through them. In their own time.
I needed to remove a pressure on myself to be ok. To get on with.
I realised it was ok to not be ok.
To acknowledge it all felt very heavy and energetically draining.
That it was ok that I had a lack of clarity over my direction.
That it was ok to be re-evaluating.
To dream of more, of different.
And to not be quite sure how to get there. Yet.
That it was ok to allow these changes to arise.
I realised I needed to step away and tend to myself.
So this is where I find myself. Picnic in bed days, long soaks in the bath, resting with Netflix, sitting in the sunshine, writing, talking to plants, chain-drinking tea, sitting in silence. It all helping me to settle into the uncomfortable murky muddy place, and gradually beginning to work my way through it, finding glimpses of the light again, and knowing this is all part of the plan, of the growth.
And its ok to be here. Even if it does feel alien. Even if it does feel uncomfortable. Even if it's not 'productive'.
I heard recently that faith is believing in something even when there is no evidence to support that that is so.
And today, sitting outside, eating my lunch in the warming spring sunshine, nature begins to lead me back to myself once more as I notice small red shoots beginning to appear through the ground. I note that all winter they have been underground, no evidence of life, in the total darkness. They have been allowing that moment. And against what seems like all odds stretching across many months - coldness, frost, little light - they held on and now they are finding new life, new beginnings - bursting through the darkness. They found the light again. They had faith that this day would come.
I know things are non-linear, and maybe tomorrow I will feel different, but for today at least, here and now - seeing those shoots and being out here with the magic of Mother Nature - is beginning to restore my faith.
And I know, in my very core I will always be a believer, a dreamer, a romantic - that's who I am - I will always believe in love, peace, goodness, destiny, trust, positivity, magic.
I thought I had found a healthy dose of realism too. But right now I see it's drastically off-balance. My sceptic mind receiving way too much air-time. And my job is to navigate back to a stronger dose of love and heart. It's from this place I wish to live my life.
And so, I hold on to this seed of peace, of love, of hope - however small it may be right now - because I have faith. Faith in the good. Faith in the light. Faith in the love. I hold it for me, for you, and for anyone else who needs it. Because I know, if and when we may misplace it, there will always be guidance to find it again.
I'm holding onto my seed of faith, and beginning to feel ready as spring arrives, to plant and nourish and watch it grow and bloom once more.