Looking out at the trees painted in their fall colors I am reminded of 5-year-old Hope, who sat in her apple tree looking out at the mountain views changing in their seasons. That apple tree was my safe space from the many traumas my childhood brain was trying to process and escape from. 

Hope Homestead

As I currently brush ladybugs off of me and watch the wooly worms scoot by, I am reminded of the mountains I grew up in and my childhood. I am reminded of how much nature healed childhood Hope, but also how much writing did! I sat for hours writing poems and stories to escape from my realities. I would write poems about the trees and the clouds and would imagine myself writing children's books with these musings. 

A home from a brief period of my childhood

I wasn’t the most artistic child mostly because I would rather be outside in the woods or at the creek or on my bike, but I always imagined one day I would write poems and make the art to accompany them.

I recently published my first zine which is a concept I have played with off and on since I was 5 years old and I just didn’t have the language to name it. My childhood self would be so proud of myself for finally pushing past the fear of what everyone would think to publish my work! 

I have lately been using an old tool of mine where I communicate with childhood Hope in my mind. I go back and tell her some of how I have since learned to heal trauma and imagine little Hope in her apple tree learning to heal her wounds instead of internalizing at a young age that they were all her fault. 

Buy my FIRST Zine

I hear my 5-year-old self shouting my praises that I finally put my work out there! I hear her knowing that this concept of writing a memoir has weighed on my heart and mind at many different phases in life to be solidified during my caregiving journey, and knowing how much I have blocked myself. How much I have worried about what everyone will think. She knows what this release of my first published writings as an adult means! I say first as an adult because my mom recently reminded me she had a poem published of mine when I was 11. See below. 😂

From 1995

If I want to make anyone in life proud it is 5-year-old me, and today I feel that in my soul. She’s proud, she also knows that this is just the start. This is the first of many zines that will follow. The act of creating the writing space I wrote about months ago meant I needed to have many different projects going.

The progress in writing a memoir to me has shown up best when I’m not putting pressure on it to be the only writing I’m focusing on. That is what led me to stare at so many blank screens unable to find words, because I would try to force the flow. Instead, allowing whatever writings that want to come out in my daily practice has opened the floodgates. Blocks no more, I have made significant progress on my book simply by allowing other free writing to take place.

PLAY in nature

My favorite form of self-care has always been play, play in nature and creativity. The boxes and boxes of journals are proof of the amount I have tapped into this. Play is at the root of what created this zine as most of the art I made that is background was made in a creative play space. The words share about a journey of healing, through seeking validation from the outside world, to learning to give this to myself, to honoring Steve who taught me how to be loved as a woman who was always longing for the right kind of attention and love. 

The pieces included in this zine are highly personal and this feels like a great big step out into putting my work out into the world. I already am working on other zine theme ideas I am feeling called to make so more will follow. 

Personal Musings

I have a goal to sell 100 as my first zine and I am halfway there so if you want to support childhood and adult me I would be so thankful! I also truly hope the words and art touch a part of your soul, bring some healing and inspiration, and mean as much to you as they do to me! 

Thank you to everyone who has supported me in every capacity. These practices & your support continues to make my wildest dreams come true. I’m celebrating today with my 5 year old self but hope to see many of you in person soon to celebrate all our accomplishments soon. CELEBRATION IS HOW WE SURVIVE the chaos of our times. Self care is how we survived these times. This Zine is my survival. You support my dreams, you support my survival. What a huge moment.

FOREVER THANKFUL FOR YOU

Era of Accountability

I started writing this while sitting in my office due to a no-show, watching a squirrel eat the food I put out for the chicken who visits my office daily. It’s another day where the pressures of needing hours for my license ring in the back of my head while I try to focus on other things instead of dwelling on the missing hour. I tell myself it’s an hour that you can do something productive with, yet I find myself staring out the window in an effort not to scroll on my phone.

I keep thinking I have so much to say and update everyone on in blog form as it’s been close to a year since I have, and then when I sit down, my mind goes blank. I often spend time breathing and working towards a quiet mind, so you would think I would welcome this space with open arms, but it frustrates me. This isn’t the time I’m asking my mind to be a blank space; where are the words?

Words have been a form of processing for me since I was a child writing poems in an old apple tree. During the entire process of caring for Steve and the journey into finding myself back as a therapist, writing was my constant. All I had to do was sit in front of a journal or computer, and the words would flow. I always felt like I had an open tap to sentences flowing from my fingertips. 

I have often neglected to show up to my computer for personal words since starting back as a mental health counselor because words have switched places in my life. Now I am having conversations upwards of 9 hours a day. If all of my clients show up, by the time my week is done, my mind seems unable to weave words together coherently, let alone a pleasant one. 

Yet I remain persistent in knowing I need to share my story in writing. The thought will never leave my mind; it’s in the background when traveling, in session, or hiking in the woods. The knowledge is deep in my being. I feel it in my core, so not showing up to writing is a self-betrayal. 

There’s only so much I can find myself spinning out because I know I am being called to show up to something and ignoring it. After all, it’s hard. It’s hard because my brain is heavily weighed upon in these conversations with my job. The job is my purpose. I know it is because nothing else makes sense, but now I realize I need to reclaim a part of me that I’m giving away in it.

Me showing up to a writing practice benefits my clients as much as it does me because when I’m showing up to that more significant calling that will not stop shouting my name, I’m showing up to life. I’ve navigated many things with my clients with ease because it’s been something I’ve navigated with myself prior; now, this will be added to my list of understanding self to understand others.

If I need to find something to hold me accountable, maybe this will do the trick. If I do show up for myself, I can more fully show up for everyone else who comes to me with their dreams and wishes and so desperately wants to show up to their dreams in their entire presence. 

Now I’m sitting on my porch with the view that, despite how familiar it is, it still distracts me in the best ways. The fog rolled over the lush green trees in their peak summer aliveness. I intentionally took the beginning of this week off to soak in time alone with words and nature. Knowing how many clients would not come into the office for the 4th of July week, it felt like the perfect time to reclaim the part of my brain I’d given away freely for over a year.

I spent my day with a picnic by the creek reading old journals to try to drudge up the rest of this book I’ve been writing for the past decade. This isn’t one of those announcements of completion, nor is it one of those dopamine hits where I talk about doing a project instead of working on one. Looking back at my past journals reminded me of a time I needed it, that my life is my story, and it’s always there, ready to be told. 

All I have to do is show up. Show up. Show up for me. 

found this page in an old journal that was calling me out, if you want to be more confident in your work, do more of it. 

So, allow me to step into this era of accountability with grace and say it’s about time I’m here. This is just one of many areas of my life I feel like it’s time I hold myself accountable for. The energy in the cosmos, the intensity of summer, and pulsing through me are one of holding myself responsible for my dreams, growth, and life!

I started this new practice of acceptance and working on loving parts of myself that I know is my shadow side to integrate it instead of running away from it. You can’t heal something you won’t look at, so I am in full cringe right now, making myself look at pieces of me that I have avoided acknowledging directly in the face, working towards that phrase of I am cringe, but I am free. 

I accept that when things get hard, I often want to stop showing up because it feels easier to not try instead of failing. However, in holding myself accountable to living a life aligned with my values, it means more to show up to life's callings and try than to not. So here I am. So is this an update without a real update? Kind of.  

Also, to inform you, if you aren’t already in the know, that I started a youtube channel. Because filming rambles & pretty scenery is now an easier way to keep my throat chakra open and flowing than typing blogs, if you’ve missed your doses of hope, check it out. I go into more detail about the things hinted at in this blog update in my videos. If anything resonates, please let me know! Trying to find my swing, and all feedback is helpful information.

Real updates are soon to follow aside from this playful plea for you to tune into my channel, and I have been long over due for a travel blog update cause the world has been GOOD to me but also imparted lessons that want to be shared!

On the Other Side of Resistance

Flashing back to me rushing to pack up all of the life Steve and I had built in our house to get ready to move in September 2020. The what if’s spiraling in my mind were my fuel to conquer each task with as little deep thought as possible to assure I would get things done!

I planned to use this chaotic energy to tackle the overflowing garage. Boxes of unsorted items stood between me and my finish line. Determined to carry on with the clearing and downsizing a friend came over to help me. 

Halfway through I found myself sitting on the concrete floor sobbing and unable to string together words to explain to my friend what I found. I pull out the top folder and pass it over to her to read for herself, “Drug and Alcohol Therapy.” This box contained all the remnants of my past life as a mental health counselor. 

Slowly thumbing through the box I compose myself and find that I am only able to repeat, “I don’t know how I could ever care for strangers like I did my husband,” in between the tears. Reading the literature and seeing the sad, old paychecks that barely supported my life built immediate resistance to returning to life as a counselor. 

This reminder comes after celebrating my one year of deciding to return to counseling! The return was a debilitating process yet here I am! Steven Pressfield says, “The more important an activity is for your soul's evolution, the more resistance you will feel.” I resisted going back into being a counselor more than anything I have in life, and on the flip side being a counselor suits me more than anything in life. 

I thought I would never be through the anxiety, grief, or trauma to be in a position to hold space for anyone. I couldn’t see it. The John O’Donohue quote, “I live like a river flows carried by the surprise of its unfolding.” rings in my head as I think about the process it took to arrive where I am today. 

I used every excuse I could muster to not return to being a therapist, until everything else I tried failed. The failures redirected me time and time again, and the personal interactions continued to point me in one direction. Back to counselor Hope. Life reaffirmed my final choice when I applied to countless non-therapy jobs and heard nothing back, but the day I applied to three counseling jobs I received callbacks the same day. 

The idea of starting supervision over again, the idea that I would struggle to compare problems that aren’t as severe as ALS, the idea that I would have to change every piece of me to be accepted in this world, the idea that I would have a panic attack with the first client who showed anxiety in session, the idea that I was not good enough. A small summary of the types of things that my mind created in my resistance. 

Holding space for others has returned to me naturally, but perhaps what’s been the most confidence-boosting is having some personal stuff rock me but still being able to show up fully to work. I never knew my nervous system would be so strong and secure that I would be able to show up unwavering for my clients. It’s a beautiful testament to showing up to my healing and life only continues to get brighter and brighter each day falling back in love with my purpose. 

If you follow me closely you already have read my musings to myself for how proud I am. You know that celebrating my wins is a huge part of my daily practice, but perhaps you may not have the full scope as to why it’s such a major accomplishment to me. I am finding my way back to my other beings while finding my home in this.

I’ve learned a lot in my year back in the counselors' chair but here is what stands out the most. 

• Our beliefs can enchant our lives. 

• Life gets clearer when you stop ruminating and tap into thoughtfulness instead. 

• A good life is not how it adds up in the end, but what you’re counting along the way.  

• Two things can exist at once. Grief and Gratitude. It’s up to us to find the balance.

• Hope grows by giving it away. 

• Our emotions give us depth, and learning to feel them and heal them is our superpower.  Our feelings are valid. Feeling them is healing them, but we don’t need to make our homes in them. 

• If you knew people’s stories you would have more understanding of their behaviors. 

• At the root, people want love. They need love. 

• We are more than our thoughts, but those thoughts can create our reality. 

• Pain comparison only invalidates your experience and stops you from healing.

Processing a Year

I’m writing this as I listen to my chickens doing their egg-laying clucking, reflecting on how a year ago Erica and I were closing on this house with nothing but dreams and hopes. Listening to my chickens as I reflect on this past year gives me a full-circle feeling.

As I’m sitting here, I’m reflecting on all the steps I have made to be where I am now. The feelings I’ve forced myself to sit with, the processes I’ve arduously worked through to feel ready to enter the world again. I’m currently studying for my National Counselors exam that I will promptly schedule once the licensing board reviews my application for associate licensed counselor and gives me approval.

I have a job anxiously waiting for me to get started once this process is over, and to my surprise, I am just as anxious as they are for this to happen. I resisted getting a job where I would leave the house for fear that I would crumble, especially if it was me sitting with others during their process.

I honestly had given up on the idea of returning to the field of counseling until just a few months ago; as I’ve shared before, I was growing tired of the floundering feeling. I was seeking the answers, the path, the next step. I was not enjoying the period of uncertainty of what I should be doing, and I judged my struggle in this process.

The truth is, pain is inevitable; suffering is optional. I needed this year to leave me flopping around between failed opportunities and relationships to truly work through my resistance to going back to what I know. I didn’t need to judge myself so harshly while experiencing this shedding of an old identity, but I chose a little bit of suffering to top my pain.

To make a transition from being a caregiver, something I felt so ingrained into my being, into my next step, I expected there to be plasticity in the process. The truth is I needed the friction. It helped me see things from a new perspective, the one needed to see how capable I am of handling friction, handling the uncomfortable, and handling other people’s processes.

There are some ways in which I had hoped I would be further along by now. I would have a stable career under me, and I would know at the beginning of each month I wouldn’t have a panic attack at how I was going to pay my bills. While I’m not there in life, I’m more “stable” in other ways than I had anticipated.

Once thinking I would never be able to exist in a crowded public space without panic attacks, they are rare now. Once thinking I would never be able to open up to dating again, has had some success, although none lasting, that doesn’t matter :)

Getting back into studying all things psychology-related, I stumbled upon a quote from Carl Young, “Only the paradox comes anywhere near to comprehending the fullness of life.”

The paradox of not feeling stable yet feeling the most stable I have in years perfectly sums up what this past year has held for me. In so many ways, I’ve exceeded my hopes and anticipations with living here, and in many others, I have much work to do!

However, now I can confidently say I have no doubt I truly can show up and do all that is needed of me now, and that to me is far greater than a financial success story. I know I’m on my path, and I know I am capable, and NOW I know that however this unfolds, I’ll be able to show up wholeheartedly.

Welcome to the Community

Today walking through our field, a truck drove by, beeping its horn and waving at me. I didn't recognize the truck, but I was delighted with the hello nonetheless and waved like a girl in a parade. It made me the simplest kind of happy. I was recognized as someone in this community. 

I've felt denied by this community recently. I tried multiple avenues to get into the local art community. With a brain full of rejection I’m in a moment of reflection on what life is bringing me. Because of the ways in which occupying a creative space helps my very being, I am not so easily willing to walk away from art.

Paint covered canvases, journals full of scribbled words, bellies full of home grown food, medicines made from this land, new perspectives, deeper connections, new connections. It’s all very much a part of the oxygen I breathe, and it will not stop being that, even if I decide to take on a new means of sustaining my life here.

Although I’m not entirely sure if art will expand in the ways I had originally hoped it would I feel more joyful and excited about what I create and the time I spend doing it. It’s all inspired heavily by this whimsical land I get to occupy and be surrounded by. In truth, that makes what I’m making stand on it’s own in providing for me, because it’s filling me with an energy that I can’t tap into in other spaces.

This land is my dream; getting to have chickens and my garden producing more than I expected in it’s first year has filled a piece of me I didn’t know was empty. Meeting new people and forming connections with them has shown me different sides of myself. There’s an ever evolving energy and it’s source comes straight from these mountains.

The Blue Ridge mountains being the second oldest mountain range in the world and how it’s changed over millions of years, is a medicine that seeps into everyone’s being when they experience this land. It’s rich in it’s history and energy. It’s heavily becoming a part of my art, my writing, and my core.

This land is offering me far more than I am maybe worthy of already. Wild elderberry, yarrow, passion flowers, reishi mushrooms, walls of honeysuckle ,and blackberries. So much wild, delicious beauty I can't even observe it all. Heron visits, otter visits, new birds I still haven't identified. 

In many ways, I have to check myself when I even question my path, cause I'll say things like, “I thought when Steve passed, life would present this path forward for me,” as if life didn't already do that. I'm here, and I have to remind myself that THIS is my path. Many questions remain for me, but there is one thing I am certain of I am full of gratitude. So much so that I live to the point of tears daily.

I've been having visions of me walking through tall grasses, seemingly lost, and turning around, being able to see it was a path all along. It speaks to this waiting I spent many months in, the waiting to know the answers, the waiting to share my life for when I’m “established”, the waiting for this big life moment. I’m no longer in waiting, and more into trusting.

So, today I’m checking in as a girl who doesn’t have all the answers, BUT is known enough around here that people beep at me, wanting to say hi. I harvested herbs + food from my garden three times now since I planted. My chickens follow me when we do our free-range time. I still write and have books living in me working there way out. I’m forming relationships that will have lasting effects on me far beyond my understanding currently. Most importantly, I’m a girl showing up to her days, ready to work with what it’s bringing me, gaining confidence walking through these glorious wild grasses. Even if I can’t always see the next step, I’m taking it.

I recently added new paintings and weavings to the site and your continued support is why I am still able to have hours in that creative space that provides so much healing to me. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for believing in me. My pain oil is also available with some other herbal remedies brewing sourced straight from this land. I am thankful for the opportunity to share these healing medicines with y’all. I’m thankful for those who see me and believe in me, and that includes every one of you reading this.

To turn left or right

I've been waiting for the real words to come. When will I be able to write anything aside from Wow! Look where I get to live? There's so much more going on with me than just being taken with my surroundings. It feels like I'm in such a transition. The words are ruminating; it's like making a tincture; you have to let it Brew.

It feels that it is time to sit and try to write. Here is my attempt. This is motivated by two questions I am frequently asked. 1. I get asked regularly if there's a list to help people who have been newly diagnosed. 2. I get asked regularly if I have help for those who have recently lost someone. Each experience is unique, whether it be with ALS or loss. However, I put a lot of thought into this, seeing as my messages are frequently full of these questions,so here’s what I have. 

I'm going to start with the loss because that's what's fresh for me. Most caregivers will learn that you can be simultaneously grateful for what support you get and disappointed by those who are not showing up for you. It's a paradox that is heightened in times of great need. This doesn't go away when you lose your loved one. Now you have time to honestly evaluate what relationships are worth continuing to put the energy in and which ones might be time to let go. You will be so surprised by how some people show up for you; allow those pleasant surprises to lessen the blow of the disappointment in those who don't. 

They're going to be people who don't understand your way of grieving. You may feel people's judgments whether they say them out loud in sly comments or in the way they treat you. This is one of those moments where I assure you, whatever you are feeling is how you should be feeling. Please never allow someone to dictate how your process looks for you. No one is in your exact shoes, so they have no way of knowing how you should be walking. 

Another paradox will be that you will be missing your person with every ounce of you AND feeling relief that they no longer have to suffer so much. This goes for those who've had to watch their loved ones deteriorate in front of them slowly, so I suppose I'm speaking to the terminally ill widows. I don't know that I can relate to the sudden loss. I married Steve, knowing that ALS would take him bit by bit in front of me.  It gave us a unique relationship where we truly learned each day was a gift. It didn't mean we didn't argue, and it didn't mean that some days we didn’t let those arguments turn us into monsters. It just meant we knew we had to face it directly and quickly before it was too late. I know Steve and I would have had a different relationship without ALS, and I'm grateful for the one we did have. 

There are days when I realize he was the only person who understood me in the whole world. There are days that I wonder if I understand myself. There are days where I wonder how I'm supposed to figure out how to carry on. The next day, I remember that being alive is a gift that Steve would want me to work to recognize this gift and live the fullest I can. The keyword here is work. My life on the outside seems all trees and daydreams. It seems I'm just out adventuring without a care in the world. The truth is I'm trying to allow this beautiful land I'm privileged to now call home; help me figure this out. Because, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. 

Creating art is the only thing that makes sense to me. I suppose it's because I had created so much art while Steve was alive that it feels like a piece of home is still here. The act of making something makes my heart pump and reminds me that I am alive. Will it be enough to pay the bills I walked into having to pay? Time will tell. What then if it doesn’t? Trust me; I feel everyone wondering what I'm supposed to do, which doesn't help as I'm over here floundering like a fish out of water. From talking to other past caregivers, I know this is the typical experience we all have when we lose our person. Especially when taking care of that person was your 24/7. I also know life led me to Steve, and it made me strong enough to walk our path even when I thought I couldn't, so there's no way it's going to give up on me now; even though it feels like I'm going to be wandering lost forever. 

I downloaded this new app called all trails because sometimes, when I'm hiking, I get confused by the trails. I don't understand which direction I should go, so I look at the map, telling me if I should turn left or right. I wish post caregiving life came with an all trails app; what direction should I go? I suppose it depends on how much you shared your life while you were caregiving, if you can even relate to some of the things I'm experiencing. Everyone was so supportive of our story, and they loved it, and that meant a lot to us, and still does. Now, however, there are some days I don't want to talk about our story because a part of me feels like it's keeping me stuck in this place that I no longer get to even have. I know in real life there is no timeline to figure out what's next, but I made a decision and bought a house without a job already lined up, which happens more often to caregivers than not.

So will this art life fund this new life? I don't know. Because I don't know, I decided to quit smoking cannabis. This wasn't a light decision; however, it came a little easier than I would have ever anticipated it. I drove home for Christmas and didn't want to drive with it. I brought some edibles and didn't want to take them. I didn't have too much trouble sleeping because we had lots of wine. I came back to the mountains and realized now it's my time because I will have to get a job eventually if this doesn't work, and that means passing a drug test. However, I found myself wanting to drink to sleep, and I didn't want to create that problem. For the record, I don't believe cannabis is a problem. However, for the job that I'm qualified for, I would have to pass a drug test. Once I learned I could sleep without either, I decided it was time to see who I am without it. I've been using it daily for close to nine years. So I suppose you're wondering how I feel? At first, I felt like I didn't have any thoughts anymore. I didn't have any creative writing anymore; I didn't have these beautiful musings coming out of me anymore. So I felt like I wasn't myself. I mean, I suppose you can say I feel accomplished, that it's been over a month, and I'm now employable, so to speak. But what does that mean anyway.?

Okay let’s make a hard right turn on that trail now to question number 2. 

My first and most important piece of advice I have for someone whose family member has been newly diagnosed; is to have the hard conversations right away. You don't want to. I get it, it's already hard enough to swallow this diagnosis; why would you already start facing things that aren't here yet? It's a contradiction to my next piece of advice because that is to take it as it comes. So let me explain. 

If you don't have the hard conversations about how your loved one wants to live this out, then you don't know. Unfortunately, with ALS, you don't know what it's going to bring and when. If I didn't have a conversation with Steve about if he wanted to be trached or not, I wouldn't have known what to do when he was put into an emergency coma, and it was his only option to survive. I pray no one's journey is as turbulent and unexpected as that, and the truth is it's not for everyone.  Which is why I say take it as it comes. It is not useful or productive to wait for the other shoe to drop. Especially because you know with ALS, that shoe will drop. I believe the best thing you can do when someone is first diagnosed is to say, hey, I want to be here for you the whole step of the way; I need to know how far you want to take this, and I want you to know that you can change your mind at any time. We will take it as it comes. If anything happens, I would like to know I am doing your will. This was a piece of advice given to me in the beginning that thankfully I took no matter how hard it was. The truth is it was never-ending having these conversations. They get easier as time goes on. Because it’s already been established that all you want to do is help your loved one live out their wishes at the end of their life.

In terms of concrete medical advice, it's hard to give that to a newly diagnosed patient because the disease manifests so differently from person to person. Still, I will say weight loss is the enemy, and so is choking; learning to get those calories safely might be the first thing to tackle.

Remember, if one doctor doesn't help you, there are others. It may seem like you will never find a doctor, but you will don't give up. Keep trying. One day you'll come across a doctor who will help everything fall into place. 

You are your person's most prominent advocate, and ultimately you may end up being their voice, so remember how important you are in helping them live their wishes. 

I want you to know the fact that you even ask how you can help your loved one who was just diagnosed makes you f’ing amazing. No matter how much you have to give to this person, those first days are brutal and your being there is invaluable. No one expects you to get it right all the time because, in this situation, it's one that you figure out as you go along. Caring, that right there is the first step, and you've already done it.

If you want to support my artist life, you can. On my website there are new items available under each category. I love you all.