Dear Reader

What do I really want?

It took me many years to begin to move from thinking about "what I don't want" to "what I do want". It seemed natural to say I don't want this or that. There was so much in my life of what I didn't want.

And then I was challenged by a dear friend: "So what DO you want? Do you know that? I hear all about what you don't want. Tell me. What DO YOU WANT?"

That led to a lifetime of questioning my thoughts, my actions, my motivations. An understanding of what I want came gradually, changed and refined, and, to be honest, the process is ongoing.

For a long time, one of the things I wanted most was not to be triggered, not to be thrown back into past experiences I hoped I’d left behind. The word itself, triggered, felt Harsh, Sudden, Violent. As if something outside me had all the power.

When I think of being “triggered,” I picture exactly that: something aimed at me, someone pulling the trigger, and me being struck. It’s instantaneous. I have no say in what happens next. Pain. Powerlessness. The familiar echo of old trauma. And in that understanding, I’m not responsible for my reaction because the shot has already been fired - and received.

Most of us don’t consciously attach all that meaning to the word, especially not in the moment of being "triggered". But our bodies often behave as if it’s true.

Recently I've been introduced to a different word. Activated - a word that offers Space. Breath. Choice.

At first it felt almost too gentle, too slow, to describe something that feels so immediate. But the more I sat with it, the more I appreciated its invitation. To say “I am activated” asks something of me. It asks me to notice. To pause. To witness what’s happening inside rather than assume the world has already done something to me. It invites me to pause and to take action, not to react.

I’ve recently taken on the challenge of making sourdough bread, and the process gives an image that stays with me. The first step is creating a starter, a simple mix of flour and water. You leave it on the bench to slowly, quietly, develop its own life as wild yeast and bacteria wake up and begin to multiply.

At a certain point, the mixture becomes active. It bubbles, grows, and becomes capable of transforming dough into bread. But activation isn’t instantaneous. It’s a gradual change. A coming-to-life that can be observed. Responded to. Adjusted.

I’m thinking of my emotional life in the same way. When something upsetting happens, perhaps I’m not “triggered” like a bullet leaving a gun. Perhaps my starter has simply begun to bubble. Something in me is being activated, brought to the surface, inviting me to pay attention.

That shift in language changes the story.

Most of all, it gives me back my agency.

I can’t always control what activates me. But I can practise how I respond once I notice the first bubbles rising. I won't always get it right - maybe there is no "right", not like with making sourdough bread. And I certainly haven't got it right - not yet!

Even in making sourdough bread, it seems there's a lot of practice required. Here's a picture of my first loaf. I use that word "loaf" because that was my intent.

In no way could we eat this first attempt. Yet, I will keep practising. I want to make our own bread - with wholemeal flours, water and salt - what better ingredient list can we have. I'll keep trying, practising, until I'm satisfied I've made an edible loaf like this one from the store.

Then I'll start practising on a different form. Maybe pizza bases, crackers - who knows what else? I'm excited at the thought of how my "activated" starter will create a variety of foodstuffs to enhance our lives.

Being "activated", for me, feels far more powerful than being “triggered.” I like focusing on this concept of being activated when something disturbs me and I'm excited to feel the difference in my reactions, down to the cellular level.

If being triggered has plagued you in the past, I hope this concept of activation appeals to you and you have fun with it and find a calmer way of dealing with it too.

With love,
Stephanie

Why I Write - for you and for me too.

Some stories come from lived experience, like navigating my son’s addiction and the long road of recovery. Others are shaped by imagination, like the cozy mystery I’m writing, set in a small café where trust is both tested and rebuilt. Some of my life stories still bring tears. Others make me smile. And many are filled with memories that warm my heart.

I write for anyone who’s ever carried a burden across generations, and for anyone who longs to heal forward.

My thoughts for Living Life in 2025 and beyond:

"My religion is kindness"

Dalai Lama

“Cast your bread upon the waters and it will
come back - buttered”

Doris May Payne - my mother

"Life is a Daring Adventure or Nothing"

Helen Keller

“Write it on my heart that every day is
the best day of the year”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Remember that sometimes not getting
what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck"
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Dalai Lama

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave [person] is not [the one] who does not feel afraid, but [the one] who conquers that fear.”

Nelson Mandela

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