Looking For the Sky

 There’s a story in The Recovering Farmer about a hidden rock in the road, one that created significant issues. But as it turned out, that rock also saved us from something much worse. I won’t give away the full story here (you’ll have to read the book for that), but it left me with a lesson I didn’t expect. Sometimes what trips us up is actually what protects us.

Life, whether on the farm or beyond, has a way of placing those unexpected rocks in our path. Everyone has them. Some are small stumbles. Others feel like full-scale disasters. And in the moment, when you’re flat on your back or face-first in the mud, it’s hard to see anything beyond failure, loss, or frustration. And sometimes, it takes a much bigger loss before we can see anything clearly at all.

There’s an old saying: When the barn burns down, you can see the sky. When I first heard that, I questioned it. But I’ve come to understand it in the same way as that hidden rock. Some experiences don’t just trip us up, they remove what we thought was solid ground entirely. And when that happens, it doesn’t feel right. It feels like loss. Only later do we sometimes realize that both the rock and the fire were forcing us to see things differently.

Setbacks land in more than one way. Physically, there’s exhaustion, tension in the shoulders, that gut-punch feeling when nothing goes right. Mentally, it’s heavier still. Doubt creeps in. You replay every wrong turn. You start wondering if you’ll ever get up again, or if it’s even worth trying.

No one is immune to this. Most people I’ve met have their stories about such experiences. I’ve been there more times than I care to count. Farming, finances, family, mental health, life has knocked me down in ways I never saw coming. And in those moments, it felt impossible to believe that anything meaningful could come from the mess.

I’ve also heard the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I’ve never fully agreed with that. Sometimes what doesn’t kill you just leaves you tired, shaken, or questioning everything. Because not every struggle makes us stronger. Some simply change us. But strength isn’t about never failing. It’s about finding a way to stand again, even when you’re not the same as before.

Recently I found myself reflecting again on what recovery really looks like. I keep referring to my life as a journey. And if I’m honest, I still question it at times. I still wonder whether I’m making progress, or whether what I’m doing truly makes a difference.

I’ve come to understand something that I wrote about in my book. Had it not been for my life experiences as a farmer, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today. Had I not experienced the challenges, struggled with addiction, or found myself in a world of anxiety and depression, I couldn’t do this work. Understanding that is one thing. Accepting it is another.

But the more I sit with it, the more I see it for what it is. I have stood in the ashes. And I’ve also seen the sky again. From that place, I am rebuilding, slowly and imperfectly. Every fall I’ve taken has shaped me in ways I didn’t expect. They’ve pushed me towards growth, towards understanding, and towards who I am today. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.

Because in many ways, we don’t just experience one rock or one fire. Life has a way of repeating these moments in different forms. And each one asks something of us, sometimes patience, sometimes help, sometimes simply the willingness to keep going when we don’t feel ready.

And maybe that’s the real lesson: the things that stop us aren’t always the end of the road. Sometimes they are the reason we finally see it differently.

If you’re feeling like you’ve hit the ground hard, I won’t offer a quick fix or empty reassurance. Getting up takes time. Sometimes it takes help. But I can tell you this, being down is not the same as being done.

So take a breath. Look around. And when you’re ready, start looking for the sky. Remember, sometimes the only way to see the sky is to lose what was blocking the view.

Come Together: The Power of Connection in Mental Health

 May 4th to 10th is Mental Health Week, led by the Canadian Mental Health Association. This year’s theme, Come Together Canada, focuses on two things that sit at the very heart of mental health: connection and isolation.

This is one of those topics that keeps showing up for me, because it runs through almost everything we talk about in mental health.

I’ve said it before, and I still believe it deeply: isolation breeds illness.

We are often described as the loneliest society in history. At the same time, we’re seeing rising rates of anxiety, depression, suicide, and accidental overdose. The connection between those realities is hard to ignore.

What makes it even more ironic is that we live in a time when we are more “connected” than ever. We can text someone across the country in seconds, join meetings from our kitchen tables, and scroll through updates from hundreds of people every day. And yet, many people would say they feel less connected than they ever have.

Because real connection isn’t about access. It’s about meaning.

A text, a like, or a quick online exchange can keep us in touch, but it doesn’t always give us what we truly need. What we’re missing is the deeper experience of being understood, of sharing space with someone who genuinely sees us, and of feeling that we are not alone in what we carry.

Connection is one of our most basic human needs. It shows up in conversations where we can be honest. In moments of shared laughter. In simply sitting with someone who gets it. And when life becomes stressful, which it inevitably does, we often do the opposite. We pull back. We isolate. We hide what we’re going through.

The challenge is that isolation doesn’t just keep people away, it keeps us stuck inside our own thinking. And over time, that can shrink our world.

But something shifts when we reconnect. When we talk things out. When we reach out instead of pulling away. When we let ourselves be part of other people’s lives again. The world doesn’t necessarily change, but our experience of it does. It opens up. It softens. It becomes less heavy.

We start to see possibilities again. We feel a bit more like ourselves. And often, we rediscover a sense of purpose that had gone quiet in the background.

Connection matters at every level. Connection with ourselves, with family, friends, neighbours, and community. Even small moments of contact can reduce stress and improve how we cope with life.

There is also something happening inside us when we connect that we don’t always think about. Our brains respond to safe, supportive connection with chemicals that help us feel calmer, more grounded, and more trusting. Sometimes people call this the “feel-good” or “bonding” response. It’s not about one single hormone, it’s about how our system responds when we feel safe with others.

A handshake, a hug, a meaningful conversation, or even a moment of eye contact can all play a role in shifting how we feel. These moments don’t remove stress from life, but they help us carry it differently. They remind us that we’re not carrying it alone.

So this Mental Health Week, the invitation is simple: come together.

Reach out. Have the conversation you’ve been putting off. Sit with someone a little longer than usual. Check in on someone who comes to mind. And allow yourself to receive connection as much as you offer it.

And maybe the most important part, don’t let it stop here. Let this be something we carry forward, long after the week is over.

Because connection isn’t just a theme for one week in May.

It’s part of what keeps us well.