Last week, I received some difficult news. The kind of news that knocks the wind out of you.
I found out that a significant portion of my Access to Work funding—the financial support that helps me cover my disability needs while running a business—is being cut. And not in a few months. In a week.
I’m still processing this. It’s a shocking, destabilizing moment, but thankfully, I have a stalwart support system to help me through. From my lived experience of surviving—and sometimes thriving—through multiple such moments, I know this will work out in ways I can’t yet foresee.
But right now? My feelings aren’t interested in the future. They’re demanding my full attention. They want me to feel them, right here and now.
Feeling the Feelings
For those of us who are trauma survivors, feeling our feelings can feel terrifying. For many years, letting myself feel would drag me into dark, suffocating places. Climbing out took an enormous amount of effort, time, and energy.
For decades, I lived in a see-saw effect: constantly battling my nervous system, which was so dysregulated by the shocks it had endured. Progress came slowly, painfully, and never as fast as I wished it would.
In recent times, though, I’ve been living in a different rhythm. The fear that used to govern me softened. I found myself relaxed more often than not, experiencing a sense of trust, rest, and even inner peace. I was growing, playing, and contributing to others through my lived experience. I healed layers of self-hatred and put the responsibility for that hatred back where it belonged—not on my shoulders.
So when this funding news came, I found myself revisiting old belief systems I thought I had outgrown.
Uncovering Old Beliefs
One belief surfaced almost immediately: “I can’t afford to be disabled.”
Beliefs like this don’t come from nowhere. They’re rooted in our lived experiences, often formed at times when they felt painfully, unavoidably true. And even now, some parts of me still believe it.
But here’s where the magic of awareness comes in: I noticed this belief system. I saw it rise up in the turmoil of shock and pain, and I became curious about it.
Instead of being swept away by the old narrative, I started to ask questions:
- In what ways is believing this narrative as wholly true preventing me from accessing my considerable inner and outer resources?
- How is this belief shaping my experience of being unsafe?
- What is the opposite of this belief?
- How am I safe in this moment?
- What options and possibilities for safety haven’t I yet considered?
- And my favorite: How outrageous can I be right now?
These questions are not easy, but they’re powerful. They create space for me to access something deeper, beyond the immediate chaos of the moment.
Sparkles in the Darkness
This practice of finding sparkles in the darkest times is why I created the logo for ND Mentoring.
Years ago, when life felt too heavy to bear, I was guided by a question: What would make life worth living? My ADHD brain immediately conjured an image of sparkles—soft, magical sparkles. I realized I wasn’t seeing nearly enough of them to make life feel worthwhile.
My first thought was defiant: “Ha! Life can’t possibly give me enough sparkles to make this worth it. I win!”
But then curiosity kicked in. What if I could find more than enough sparkles to make life worth living? What if I searched for them?
So I began. Every day, I looked for sparkles—in sunlight glinting off water, in patterns of raindrops, in the beauty of small moments. And I found them. Every single day for over a year, I found sparkles.
These tiny, magical moments taught me that even in the underworld—when I’m tumbling through another round with Pluto—there are sparkles to be found.
Outrageous Possibilities
Yesterday, as I worked through my questions and feelings, I asked myself: How outrageous can I be right now?
That’s when I saw them: sparkles on the droplets of water in the sunlight. I snapped a picture, a reminder that small things are big things. Those sparkles showed me that no matter what’s happening, nature will always offer something beautiful, nurturing, and unexpected.
These small moments of wonder add up. They build the capacity for joy, trust, and rest. They remind me that I am safe enough to let go, even when life feels heavy.
Moving Forward
This news from the DWP is hard. There’s no sugarcoating that. But it’s also an opportunity—a messy, painful, unexpected opportunity—to revisit old beliefs and ask new questions.
So, I’ll keep looking for the sparkles. I’ll keep finding small joys in big challenges. And I’ll keep asking myself how outrageous I can be—because the answers to that question always bring me closer to freedom.
Thank you for being here, for reading, and for being part of this journey. Whatever heaviness you’re carrying, I hope you find your own sparkles today.
With love and a glitter of hope,
Marina XO
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