Sitting Between Last Year's Berries and This Year's Flowers

The fruit is there. All winter long, red berries cling to the bare branches. Signs of a fertile season of growth from the past year.

But between the clumps of berries are barren spots of brown branches. They looked dead. They felt dead. Robins feasted on the berries. Squirrels played in the branches too — consuming the tree without giving back, taking advantage of it while the harsh winter winds blew and the ground was covered in a blanket of snow.

Spring came early this year, and with it, tiny green knobs that turned into lime green leaves. Almost hidden buds spoke of white flowers that are coming.

It occurred to me that sometimes our healing journey is like that tree.

We clean up our diet and prioritize sleep. We start the work of unpacking trauma and acknowledging our dysregulated nervous system. We set boundaries and say no. We embrace life-giving activities and remember to laugh and rest when work is still unfinished. Our mood starts to calm and our energy begins to return. We review test results, link the patterns to how we feel, and take the supplements. We feel hopeful, even if the progress seems slower than we want.

This is last year's fruit.

But then life happens. Unexpected crisis. A child with extra needs. Parents with failing health. An unplanned financial burden. In the midst of crisis, you find yourself trying to just survive. You don't have time to eat, let alone get a healthy meal on the table for your family. Responsibilities and demands crowd against each other, and you fear your boundaries are slipping out of your grasp. Your chest feels heavy, and the anxiety that has been improving threatens to return.

Or maybe it doesn't seem that major. Maybe it's even something you have looked forward to — an anticipated vacation, a milestone birthday party, a girls' night out. We indulge in extra dessert and then feel guilty and bloated, so we skip the workout or supplements the next day. We feel sluggish and tired, so we consume extra sugar. More guilt. We feel like we have just wasted the last three months of effort and believe we are back to where we started, or even worse.

I hear the discouragement — and even the shame — in my clients' voices when they speak of how life has derailed their efforts. They feel that they have failed. But they haven't.

You are stepping onto the barren branch. But the fruit of your hard work and dedication is still there. And even though you feel like you are spiraling backward, know that this is a season. The fruit of the past season will help carry you through as you establish new rhythms in this one. They won't look like last season's. You may even have to let go of some of your ideals during this hard season — but it will produce new buds and tiny leaves. You aren't going backward. You are sitting between last year's berries and this year's flowers.