There was a moment — not long after my husband died — when I was in a yoga class full of strangers and somehow ended up upside down. Knees on elbows. Head balancing on the floor. A tripod headstand.
It lasted maybe two seconds.
But it was the first time I’d felt anything that wasn’t numbness, dread, or absolute chaos.
Let’s be clear — this wasn’t graceful. I was terrified I’d fall, make a tit of myself, or draw attention in the worst way. My confidence was shot, my self-worth was in the bin, and the idea of being witnessed in any state other than “quietly falling apart” felt unbearable.
But I did it.
And something about that tiny, shaky inversion cracked open a window in my brain that had been boarded up since Andy died.
Was it joy? No.
Was it peace? Not really.
But it was a glimmer. A flicker of “maybe I’m still here.”
And at the time, that was everything.
Since then, I’ve learned the word glimmer is actually a real thing.
The opposite of a trigger.
A tiny moment of felt safety. A blink of nervous system calm. The briefest second of “oh… maybe it’s okay to be here.”
It might be a breeze. A song. The look your dog gives you when you’re crying.
Or — in my case — your head upside down, legs wobbling, and the shocking realisation that you’re stronger than you thought.
Here’s the thing about glimmers:
You don’t always recognise them at first.
And even when you do, you might not trust them.
I didn’t.
After that yoga class, I felt something close to hope. And then immediately felt guilt about feeling it.
Because how could I possibly have a moment of lightness when I was still in the darkest time of my life?
But here’s what I now know:
Glimmers don’t erase grief. They exist inside it.
They’re the flickers that remind us we haven’t disappeared completely.
And once you’ve felt one — just one — your body starts to remember what safety, connection, and strength can feel like.
This is what the Remember membership is about.
This is what the Widows Retreat Spain is about.
They’re not about fixing you. Or moving on.
They’re about giving you a space to feel safe enough for glimmers to appear.
A space to sit, move, breathe, talk (or not talk), and notice: I’m still here. There’s more to me than pain.
And no, we don’t always trust that at first.
But I’m here to remind you — it’s okay to feel even just a hint of hope.
It doesn’t mean you’re over it.
It means there’s still something left inside you worth holding onto.
If you’re ready for a space that supports your nervous system and your soul…
🖤 Join Remember Membership – £35/¢45 per month (no contract)
🧘♀️ Explore the Spain Widows Retreat: Oct 10–13
Your glimmer’s waiting. Let’s find it together.
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