Cristina Archetti

“Shall we make a 1000 pieces jigsaw?” said Robin, already enthusiastically holding up the colorful box in his hands. It was earlier this summer and we were spending a few days outside Oslo, in a small, rented flat along the coast—the first proper holiday that did not involve visiting our parents in years. We had found appealing the fact that the place had a balcony with sea view and was advertised as a “home.” It felt like a safe place we could retreat to: a cozy nest just for the two of us. We were not expecting the space to be packed with art supplies, coloring books, and board games. When we walked in, I was surprised, considering my past history of child-related triggers, that I did not find their very presence provoking. Instead, I felt a tingling spark down my spine every time I caught sight of the (hundreds, literally) of crayons on display. What could we create with all of this?

“So, what do you think?” he continued, invitingly, placing the box on the low Ikea table that seemed perfectly designed for laying out the pieces. I was hesitant. We were trying to fill a rainy afternoon, but would that be interesting enough? I had not done a jigsaw since I was four or five years old. Would we not get bored after five minutes? But it is indeed rare that either of us comes up with an idea we are truly excited about. I was intrigued.

As it turned out, we spent the following days completely absorbed, as if totally spellbound, by the task of assembling the pieces. By the end of the week, in between walks along the beach and excursions to the forest inland, I felt I had reconnected with a part of me that had been buried for long. I had felt both joy and peace. I had tasted a fulfilment that comes, without effort, from breathing and simple gestures—from just being alive. I had even found new inspiration to carry into the future.

This is, in short, what I learned—the lessons of the jigsaw:

• All pieces will fall into place

• You don't need to know what you are working towards: it is fine to stand in the uncertainty

• You can assemble meaningful clusters, even if you do not know where they fit

• When you can't find the right piece, it is not because it is lost: you just can't see it NOW, you just have not found it YET

• Stay with the problem and it will help you figuring it out

• The hands always know more than the mind, the eyes see more than you realize

• Trust the process

Cristina Archetti– Psychotherapist

I am involuntarily childless and have faced first-hand the trauma and grief of infertility. The desire to help others in the same situation led me to train as a psychotherapist. I am here to support you, wherever you are in your journey, with warmth, at your own pace. I offer individual psychotherapy sessions and support groups that combine honoring our emotions (the heart) with reflections on issues that affect us as childless individuals (the mind), and strategies to improve our daily well-being (the body). I offer sessions in English or Italian.