amy | breathing me to life

It's no secret I struggle with seasons of deep and paralyzing depression.  Whether it's in my genes or caused by my sensitive soul, who knows.  There are seasons of life that feel like walking through mud to get through.  

I'm a lucky girl to be surrounded by amazing people that champion me on and who tell me "You're doing your best!  Don't be so hard on yourself!  Give yourself grace."

One evening I left my chaotic home to slip away to a girls night at a local restaurant and I showed up frumpy, hair unbrushed and thrown in a bun and an aching heart.  

That's when Amy saw me.  

Amy is a friend of friends that I knew casually and who happened to be sitting at the other end of the table on this particular night.  Somewhere at the end of the evening when many had trickled back to their homes, I just burst into tears and said, "I just suck at life."  Many hands touched my back and comforted me and told me "No you don't, Helen Joy.  We love you."  

But Amy looked at me and saw me and in a beautiful confidence she said, "I will help you."  

We decided to do a trade.  Pictures for coaching sessions.  

The first day she came we sat on cushions on my messy living room floor, we walked through the kitchen with left out peanut butter and jelly and crusts left over from the school morning rush. We sat on those cushions and I cried and Amy listened.  Then came her first,life giving breathe.  She said "I believe you can be better."  Said so lovingly and compassionately, not discounting the work ahead.  She did not clip my wings and say, "Be thankful!  You're doing the best you can!"    

She heard my longing and she gave weight to it.  

I told her the silly longings that seemed so out of reach and she didn't blink.  She said, "Why not?!"  She didn't flood me with cheesy quotes about motivation or steps to achieve my goals.  Every week she came to my messy home and sat with me and listened and she gently lifted me to the sky.

It started with little things like finding shoes the night before and packing lunches in the evening.  Things that come easily for most people but to me seem like mt everest.  She came over one day and stood in my laundry room with clothes up to our waists and we sweated and worked for hours and found a system that works well for ME.  

Little by little tiny bricks have fallen into place and I feel more and more comfortable in my own skin and in my own home.  It's like a ripple has started and I don't even know where it will reach.

This doesn't tie up in a bow.  I still struggle getting out of bed in the mornings, my laundry room is up to my knees because I've been editing this week but I am not paralyzed by it.  

Amy, these pictures show just a hint of your genuine warmth and the love you so beautifully give.  

Thank you for seeing me.  

To contact Amy, go to www.amybracken.life

a river retreat | austin texas

It was just about the point in winter when I couldn't remember if I was still alive.  Days bled together in a grey blanket over my spirit and I could barely remember what it was like to feel vibrant again.  It was during the worst of it that I boarded a plane to Austin, Texas to meet artists from around the country at my dear friend Michelle Gardella's River Reatreat.  

Maybe it's from growing up with 4 sisters and a single mother, or maybe it's just so incredibly primal...but women breathe life into me.

And so I arrived at that old barn, feeling weak and wounded and like the fire had gone out.

And one by one these women, these artists, these WORLD CHANGERS breathed new life into me.  

And so now, I am living with the breathe of 12 new sisters running through my lungs, and the feel of their hands pressed in my palms.

Our time together was gentle.  It fostered such respect and space for others that there was not a drop of competition.  And the primal community of womanhood was as it should be.  

I knit a scarf. I laid in the sand with my arms and legs sprawled out and contentment washing over my face.  I slept and wrote and swam in ice cold water.  I cried and laughed and felt cocooned by those around me.  I felt inspired and awed.  

I sensed ever layer of my tough bark stripped and me, bare and naked to the world, was embraced.  This is a gift that many don't ever feel in an entire lifetime.

I. am. so. grateful.

photo by thomas gardella

the year of "be" | coming up from nearly drowning

I'm sitting here with the doors open and the beautiful rain falling outside.  It's the first chance I've had to sit down and process our Christmas season and my heart is just filled with gratitude.  It was not perfect.  In fact, it was far from it.  There was arguing, a LOT of sickness, plans that didn't work out, feelings of being overwhelmed and sadness as we mourned many losses this season.  But If I were to sum up our Christmas I would say it was full.  

The good kind of full.  

Every Christmas when I pack up my decorations I ponder how things went and compare that to my expectations.  

I am always disappointed.  

So I've taken to writing myself a little note to tape to the top of my Christmas decoration box.  Last year I taped this to the top:

I remember last year so vividly.  We had just moved and chaos surrounded us with boxes and things in the wrong place.  I was extremely depressed.  I hadn't slept in 7 years.  I remember forcing my family to go get a tree in the day between moving and me going to the Wildflower's Workshop in Florida.  I had strep throat and a high fever and I remember bawling and yelling as we decorated our tree because things weren't going like I pictured they should.  My children's scared, wide eyes broke my heart, but I couldn't stop myself.  My husband ended up leaving the room.  The season was filled with lots of tears as time after time I was disappointed; in my children, in my expectations but mostly in myself.  

This month feels like the first gasp of fresh air after nearly drowning.  It's been 10 years of feeling like if I don't stop trying or doing I will surely drown.  I'm suddenly aware that maybe this drowning, this doesn't have to be my life. 

I'm sleeping through the night now.  I'm seeing a wonderful natural doctor who is helping me regain my health and learn to trust my body again.  A beautiful soul of a woman has been meeting with me weekly and helping me figure out the logistics of how to live MY life (not the best way to live someone else's perfect life).  6 months of intensive marriage counseling has broken down walls and given me a deep love and a bright hope for the future.  I have rebranded my business and I have said "no" often.  All of these things are wonderful.  A lot of hard work has taken place in this year.  This has been the year of stretching.  This has been the year of hard work.  

That little note on my Christmas box and the energy that is finally returning to my weary body provided the ability to "just be" this Christmas.  There were many times I had to throw up my hands and say, "This. Does. Not. Matter", many moments I had to step outside and breathe in the air and clear my head of expectation.  There were many times I messed up and apologies were necessary.  But I have a heart full of beautiful moments: unforced, real, special moments with my family.  The tears were far less and the joy was much more.  

I've never been one to take hold of new years resolutions, because I'm more of a goal girl all year round. After this year of work I am ready for a beautiful year of growth.  January 1st can come and I will welcome it with open arms instead of groans. 

As I've been processing things, I thought about calling this the year of "me".  I have neglected my body and soul much over the years and I don't want to drown anymore.  I want to breathe!  But the year of "me" makes me think of the desperate grasping at straws of worth.  Of hobbies that don't fill hearts and time away from family trying to quiet the chaos.  

In the end, a year of me is not what I need.  I need a year, no a lifetime, of "be".  Of just being; of allowing expectations to fall by the wayside and just being present, the year of taking the time to sit on a mountain top with no agenda but just being there and being still, of evenings sitting hand in hand with Noah in conversation instead of filling my mind with distractions and mind numbing tv.  I am confident that this slight change in my heart will lead to much joy and the drawing together of our family. 

Here's to a year of digging down deep and growing up tall.