Holding The Space

Hello beautiful people! I hope this finds you well.

Thank you for waiting for me while I took the time I needed to finish and submit my manuscript for Seen Again; which, by the way, now has a working subtitle: Light on Matrescence.

Do you know what matrescence is? It’s the word for the profound developmental transition we experience when we become a mother. Think of it as a period like adolescence. Where adolescence is the transition from child to adult, matrescence is the transition from woman to woman + mother.

Holding The Space

In this season of my life, the hardest part of writing a book is not finding the words, it’s protecting the space long enough to achieve it.

I made a series of decisions to create more space for writing this year, and in my imagination, I was doing it from a peaceful Italian villa, a quaint cottage in the woods, or overlooking the ocean — the faint sound of waves crashing as my white noise soundtrack.

The reality has proved very different. Chapters have largely been crafted in the early mornings and in snatched pockets of time between life and business things — the real soundtrack made up of Lego blocks crashing, the background blur of TV, and the regular interruptions that begin with “Muuuummmmm…”

Lately I’ve felt like a character in one of those old adventure films — the kind where the stone walls start sliding inward, slow and steady, daring to crush you. I’ve been in the middle, palms pressed out, feet slipping, trying to keep the walls of life from closing in long enough to finish my manuscript.

The space I’m protecting isn’t big. It’s barely a breath wide, but it is mine and I am fierce about its importance.

I feel as though I’ve kept myself semi-detached this year — withholding community involvement to protect the space I’ve needed, knowing that as soon as I say yes, a small part of me, an energetic tendril, reaches out and attaches to another commitment. It might sound selfish to admit, but I’ve known it’s what I’ve needed — for now.

In early October we learned that the rental we’re living in would be listed for sale. We’d been hoping to extend our lease and stay here until the house on the farm we’ve purchased is renovated but that plan went out the window with this news.

So all of a sudden, mere weeks until my 30 October deadline, I was thrust into planning for a move and working out a place for us to live.

After much deliberation, we decided to do an impromptu renovation on the farm cottage to make it more comfortable and functional as a temporary home for our family of 6, as well as hiring a building to use as a makeshift bedroom for 3 of our boys. We can also still use parts of the main house for extra living/breathing/don’t-kill-each-other space while it’s being renovated.

I was thrown into arranging all of this while Adam has been 1,300km away contract harvesting in Qld.

It has been a lot to hold. There’s been moments I thought I couldn’t.

The combination of the vulnerability of my book, the upheaval in plans, and my first renovation feeling so far out of my comfort zone, created anxiety and tension that wracked my body.

But I did it.

I submitted my manuscript on time and cottage renovations are progressing ready for us to move in on 24th November. Hire building is secured. Shipping container for extra storage has been delivered. Packing is underway. Children and I are intact, though they have watched more TV than I’d like while I’ve been in a self-imposed bubble to get words on the page.

Fun of late! Top L-R: Rise & Shine Retreat guests with Katrina Myers and I, cottage renovation moodboard, attending the launch of Sarah Churcher’s Matrescence book and gallery exhibition. Bottom L-R: Meeting Peter Fitzsimons last weekend, with my dear friend Shanna Whan of Sober In the Country when she visited Echuca for the CLK Long Lunch for Mental Health, in the final days of my manuscript with my trusty timer.

Seasons

After 5 weeks away, Adam got back 3 days ago. I felt my shoulders instantly drop when he walked in the house. My body exhaled in the knowing my teammate is finally here. He’s about to go again for a week for more harvesting but at least we’ve had a point of connection.

All of it has had me thinking about seasons.

The farming seasons that set the invisible parameters of our life.

The beautiful Spring I’m experiencing for the first time here in Victoria that, back in Qld, makes way for summer conditions so quickly.

We live in a universe of cycles and seasons. Consider the daily rhythm of the sun, the phases of the moon, the ebb and flow of the tides, the turning of the seasons, and the cycles within our own bodies. It’s actually phenomenal, awe-inspiring. And it all happens without us trying, sometimes without us even noticing.

I’m in the process of shaping my business model for 2026 around seasons and cycles. The peak farming seasons, school terms, business cycles, my energy. I’m learning to embrace and accept, to be more in flow and less in resistance. It’s empowering to design it.

Work With Me Nov-Jan

If you feel called, there are two ways you can work with me from November 2025 to January 2026:

1. Book a 1:1 Clarity Coaching Call

   A single 50 or 75 minute session to clear the fog, hear yourself again, and find direction for what’s next.

2. Embrace my seasonal two-part coaching experience Reflect & Reset 2026

   A guided pause to look back, let go, and step into the new year with focus and intention. Includes a 50 minute coaching session in Nov-early Dec, then in January a simple reflection exercise, audio coaching note and beautifully designed, customised clarity snapshot pdf from me.

Go well, friends. Be gentle with yourself as the end of year approaches and remember that you can set your own pace and rules.

With love,

Benita x