One year ago today, my life changed forever

Always have faith that all will be well in the end

On this day, one year ago, my life changed forever. Never again will I neglect the power of having faith that everything will be well.

Even when you’re lying on the dark wet bottom of a gigantic hole, you can hint the light from afar as you squeeze your eyes together. You’re being watched. Guarded. Guided.

The light will come for those who believe. And believe I did. Despite everything that had happened to us within a short period of time. Though feeling lost as to who I was. Where we were. And how I had not been able to avoid the fall. There was still a deep belief that all would be well.

I felt the warm energy pulsating deep within. Reassuring me that, yes mum, all will be well. We will do this together and the world will stop around us, which it did.

Long gone were the worries and anxieties of how to get through the next month. Long gone were the worries and anxieties of where to sleep in a couple of months time. The only thing that mattered was right here, right now, this very precious moment that will never come again in this shape or form.

One year ago, in the background of the story that is unfolding, I worked on an extensive Introduction to Sashiko Embroidery course (traditional Japanese embroidery). The design in the image called Kakino-ha, is part of the “Hitomezashi” family of patterns, which in short refers to the magic that happens as you go over the design for the second layer and beauty suddenly appears. In hindsight, the Sashiko embroidery project kept me grounded throughout the rough season last year for which I’m eternally grateful. In case you’re curious about Sashiko embroidery, here’s a direct link to the full course.

It was still pitch dark when I woke up. Disoriented as to whether it was still night or early day. I wobbled over to the bathroom and back.

There was a new sense of calm spreading around me. Apart from a distant siren that quickly faded and the deep breaths of my husband and daughter, it was completely silent. Peaceful. Blissful. It was the right day.

I shyly knocked on the second bedroom door, peaked through the slim opening and met her eyes in the dark. She knew it too. With a brief nod and a warm smile she noted the time stamp on a piece of paper. 5am.

The night slowly turned to day as the sun made its way over the rooftops. It was a Friday in February and the sky took on its bluest coat for the occasion. Not a cloud in sight and the air was fresh and clear with a special undertone you only find in proximity of the Alps in winter time.

We lived on the top floor in the city centre in one of the smallest capitals in Europe. It was by pure accident that we’d ended up there a few months prior when our world had drastically flipped from joyous and confident to devastating and confused.

What started as a brave jump out of our comfort zone, had turned into a worse scenario than the worst painted image such bravery could imagine.

When you take a leap of faith, you don’t anticipate that it doesn’t always turn out well. It’s supposed to be the most rewarding experience and yet here we were, further back than zero yet with more life in our lungs than ever before.

Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing in the end?

Maybe a visit to the bottom is a blessing to see that nothing else matters except for the love you surround yourself with. However dark today may seem, there’s always light where your energy goes.

As I floated through the day waiting for the pain to strike, the sun kept shining, heating even the darkest corner of the apartment.

I stretched, swayed, sat and lay. In constant movement following the lead of an invisible ancient force.

My angel sat at the kitchen table, observing me from a distance while drinking her black coffee and scribbling some more notes. We talked and laughed about everything and nothing. The mood was light and hopeful, which boosted my energy when the first strike came.

A strong surge in my lower back told me that this is it. For the next three hours I was the ship in a rocky ocean following the waves as they ebb and flow in intensity. All along I was left to my manoeuvrer and absolute autonomy.

I was in power yet in complete surrender to nature’s course. It was empowering and oddly humorous as the oven-timer rang right when I was about to reach the top of the mountain.

My second daughter was born in the kitchen on the most glorious day one year ago, just in time for dinner.

Despite not always remembering what I ate the day before, I distinctly remember the taste of that perfectly cooked chicken that my husband had timed impeccably.

Thank you for reading,

This was a very different type of story from the ones I usually write, but as you may see, it was quite an important one.

If you know of anyone in need of an encouraging story of the power of having faith in your own abilities even when the odds seem against you, feel free to share this with them.

And if you add a little heart to this article, it will tell the platform that this is a story worth reading and as such it will propose it to more readers… Thank you for your support!

Love, Elin

Hi there, new here?

I’m Elin, Swedish (expat) artist and mother of two who have plunged into the unknown of Substack as a new writing home. Despite having 500k+ across mainstream social media platforms for my embroidery art, I decided to start afresh here. It’s hard, thrilling, heavy and joyful all in ones. Come and join me for the ride if you haven’t done so already! You can expect thought-provoking and poignant writing about creativity, life and soulful art business with a touch of motherhood.

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