Something Is Coming (But First, This)

a little update on my health and a new thing

Oh hey friends,

You know, there are still some pieces of my previous faith framework I’m unraveling—little doctrinal go-to’s that are so embedded into my spiritual nervous system, I don’t even notice them until something shakes loose and I think: Wait. No. I don’t believe that anymore.

For the last six months, I’ve been working on something new that I’ll tell you about very soon. It’s good. It’s healing. I’ve poured my soul into it. But just as I was preparing to share it with you, a few things happened that made me pause and wonder if I should do it.

First, something happened in a different community—one that overlaps a bit with my work. Because the project I’m building holds a few similarities, I started to think, Maybe this isn’t the right time. Maybe trust is too low right now.

Then, I had a health scare.

I’m still in it—getting closer to answers, so don’t worry—but I’ve been in and out of doctor’s offices, ruling out tumors, cancers, heart issues, and chronic illnesses. There have been ultrasounds, EKGs, bloodwork, thyroid tests, an upcoming MRI, and possibly more testing or even surgery. It’s…a lot.

And then Tuesday happened.

I was supposed to take the train into NYC to spend the day with a friend. Instead, I ended up calling 911 from the train station parking lot and taking a very expensive ride in an ambulance because of what the doctors called a “mild cardiac event.” We still don’t know what caused it. (Please don’t offer advice or suggests a diagnoses. My doctors have ruled out panic attacks and heart problems. Any other suggestions would not be helpful or kind.)

I’m okay, obviously. But it was terrifying and it made me reevaluate my life a little bit. And my gut reaction, trained from years of spiritual shorthand, was: Maybe the enemy is trying to stop me from doing this new thing.

I’m not here to defend evil or anything, but…we really do scapegoat “the devil” a lot, don’t we? I grew up believing that every hard thing was either a lesson or an attack. I let go of that framework years ago, but the impulse is still there: if I can just understand what’s happening, I can fix it. I can stay safe.

As I was leaving the hospital the other day, I turned to my husband and said, “Maybe I need to retire. Maybe this isn’t my calling. Maybe I’m just addicted like that guy on Threads said. Maybe I’m not meant to do what I do.”

Even as I said it, I could feel that it wasn’t wisdom—it was reflex. Old muscle memory. When you’ve been trained to spiritualize everything, it’s hard not to reach for that language when life stops making sense.

I’m young. I’m healthy. I’m in the best shape of my life. And so the only thing that could explain a cardiac event is...the enemy must be mad that I’m finding my voice again and stepping into something new…. Right?

Well—no, actually.

I believe in listening to our bodies and honoring our spiritual instincts. But I don’t believe that every bump in the road is part of a cosmic conspiracy. If the devil gets the blame for every bad thing that happens when we have a good idea, we’ll spend our lives in fear, afraid to move. And in case you haven’t heard: we don’t do that anymore. That’s old me. Old you. Not new us.

Anyway.

I wanted to fill you in on the health stuff because it’s been affecting how I show up in my writing, on Instagram, in your inbox, in your DMs. I’ve been going through it. I’m still in it. But I can see the edge of it now.

And I also wanted to say this: I’m still going to do the thing. Devil be damned.

Next week, I’ll be in Scotland hosting the first in-person Story Retreat ( there are still a few October spots open!). Not long after that, I’ll tell you all about the new project. All of you here on Substack will be the first to know. I just wanted you to know what’s been happening behind the scenes as I’ve been building it—with shaking hands, maybe, but still building.

I’m glad you’re here.

We’ll talk again soon,
Kristen

p.s. if you want a sneak peek at at a sneak peek … click here.