Life Hack: Foraging for Flowers Saves Money and the Mind
Materials required: boots/shoes you don't mind getting dirty, sunscreen, scissors, a floral feeling playlist (subjective to forager), an acceptance of possible poison ivy or getting lost
July Already?
As I am sitting to write this it is July 8th which means two very important things to me:
It is somehow July which means I have six more months in my twenties
I will have a one year old in a month
Both seem…impossibly exciting and bittersweet.
Let’s process turning thirty first.
I am not scared or upset about getting older. I am not trying to deny it or spending the final days of my youth searching for a miracle cream to keep my face like a baby’s bottom. I am about to be thirty, flirty, and thriving. However, I cannot say my feelings about turning thirty are all happy and positive. Thirty is a big deal. Thirty is an adult. Thirty is what I have been waiting for. To be taken seriously and finally be able to say “Hey! I made it this far, I must be doing okay”. Maybe that’s lame, that I don’t feel valid until I am a certain age. I feel like for most it’s when they receive a certain degree or career goal that they feel confident in themselves as a human in this world. For me, living in this world thirty years, you’ve made it. I have made it.
Shit, I am proud to have survived for thirty years. Not only do I feel proud, I feel grateful as fuck. What a gift, to get to spend thirty years in this world having my experience. I am grateful for every second I have been gifted and will be grateful for every second I am gifted after.
That gratitude brings rise to a guilt within me. A guilt from being able to have had these thirty years when so many do not. Or when so many have years that are more painful and contain more suffering. I acknowledge this guilt. I also acknowledge that it does no good. I feel like if I don’t at least say it though it will eat me up inside. Maybe I am still too blinded by my ego?
So let’s focus on the gratitude!
Perfect Segway into my second big deal of the day: my daughter will be a year old in a month
Another thing that doesn’t make me feel old, but instead makes me feel accomplished and proud. I’ve kept myself and a whole other being alive. A human that I fucking grew. How bad ass am I? Pride isn’t really important, nor is validation. Alas, I am human, so it feels good.
It’s not so much that I didn’t think I could keep a child alive, but I thought I would be more…bad at it? I’m not perfect, obviously, there is no “perfect” mom. I know that and I am not trying to claim perfection. I am a great mom for Phoebe though, I know that. I speak her language, I know what she needs before she does. I know which positions are guaranteed to get the gas out (both ends) and the exact rhythm and speed to bounce her to sleep depending on how overtired she is. I know my baby. Somehow that has made me know myself? Maybe it sounds a bit out there, but sometimes I feel like I am mothering me. I see so much of myself in her. The way she rubs her eyes when she wakes up and furrows her brow when she listens intently, it’s like looking in a mirror. Then in other ways it’s like she is everything I have ever wanted to be. She is so brave and curious, but also sensitive and doesn’t hide it, like I always have. She refuses what she does not want, something I, on the brink of thirty, still cannot consistently do. I not only made a kid, birthed it and kept it alive for a year, but she’s pretty fucking spectacular, too.
This is it as far as babies go for me. I am closing up shop on this womb. I loved being pregnant with my baby. Watching my body change in front of me and finding love for it in every stage was indescribably cathartic. I loved giving birth to her. I got to watch the love of my life catch her as she entered into this world. Bare handed, might I add. The things I stressed over and poured hours of worry into ended up being some of the best moments of my life, so far. Moments that are so precious I don’t dare try to fully explain, because I would never stop talking, nor would I be able to convey the magic.
Experiencing a miscarriage, though…and subsequently trying to get pregnant after a loss….the nights laying awake rethinking every moment of the day, analyzing if I was good enough for her, checking her breathing, waking up from a nightmare where I smothered her…feeling guilty over checking my phone or leaving her so I can poop in peace…those pieces of this experience have been some of the most anxiety-ridden of my life.
I can hear my mother telling me “It is so stupid to let yourself worry like that, Kels. Just get over it. Other people have it so much worse.” I have been hearing it for so long that now I sometimes it’s even said it in my own voice now. I know that there are parents out there doing it on their own, with circumstances I could not imagine. I have been reminding myself of this and asking repeatedly, why are you so weak? And then, I remind myself, expressing my experience is not a complaint. I am not complaining by sharing something I experienced and what it taught me. I don’t see any of this as negative, simply as parts of my life. Life doesn’t have goods and bads or positives and negatives. The things that happen in life just are. I remind myself of that less and less lately, it is getting easier to trust and flow. I really am so grateful for my life and circumstance.
I am also grateful for my miscarriage. I have so much love for that experience. Pain as well. Lots of pain, I suffered for a long time after losing my child. Hell for a while I could even say “I lost a child”, I didn’t feel worthy of those words for much longer. I cried my way halfway across the country. Fell to my knees sobbing at Albertson’s while buying dinner. Awkwardly dumped my trauma on anyone willing to listen, but didn’t communicate authentically. I had my first public mental break down at Agev, a crystal shop in San Diego. Thankfully the owner, Ana, grounded me and gave me space. She then talked me through a cord cutting ritual to perform when I was ready. That moment did not come for years. I attended two therapy sessions a week with my loss specialist for 6 months. I journaled my way through countless notebooks and cried through numerous tissue boxes. I am now able to find gratitude for this experience because I faced my suffering. Don’t get me wrong, for a long time I tried to ignore it. I miscarried in January, fast forward to August of that year, at a Padres game with Cole’s friends, whom I was meeting for the first time, I snapped and my brain just could not stop trying to implode every aspect of my life for some reason. The next day I called the therapist who specialized in pregnancy loss. I ignored the voice telling me “Just get over it” and instead I just got help.
And it helped. A lot. Since, I have been working extremely hard to do just that. To just seek help whenever I feel I need it, even if in end I don’t. There is nothing wrong with needing help, even just support. Something I was told on repeat as a child, and yet for some reason was always mocked or belittled for then needing someone. Adults are so confusing.
Which I guess is me now, I am the adult. The one in their thirties (almost). I don’t want to be one of the confusing ones. I refuse to be. I will be honest and helpful. Life is fucking hard sometimes. Usually in ways you don’t expect, and the shit you plan for is probably not going to go accordingly. That doesn’t mean don’t plan. It means be able to adjust quickly and roll with the punches —I strongly recommend learning to laugh at it too, it makes it a lot more tolerable— I think it means setting myself up for success, which is something only I can do for myself. For me, having one child and devoting my life to being honest with her and helping her in all the ways she needs, that’s the way I will be most successful. Not forcing myself to go through emotional pain to fulfill society, or my parents, need for more children will help me be the most successful I can be. Learning about my life and myself so that I can show my child how to listen to herself and her body is how I will be most successful. And lots things won’t go according to plan, then I adjust and laugh it off and find new ways to venture forward.
A huge problem for me is that I was associating my success with monetary gain. Something material so I can actually see my hard work, I really do have a serious validation issue. Another problem is my capacity. Emotional, mental, ability to give a fuck. I do best focused on just few things that I really love. Hence, my simplification of my life. Success for me is a feeling. For the past twenty-nine years I have tried to lie to myself and say that it's not, that it’s money or clothes or fame that I desire. On a level I think I did, hey, I am human. That’s not me anymore though, giving in to those impulsive desires. All I want in life is love. To give love, to receive love. I am incredibly lucky that I have found a partner who loves me so deeply that we were able to create a love child (I finally get that phrase’s meaning). I have been so fortunate to have all of this love within and around; Christ, I am not even thirty, yet. This is enough for me. This is all I need and I do not want to be greedy. This was another lesson from my loss, that I needed to accept that what I have is enough and anything more is just icing on the cake.
If every day I lived could look like yesterday did, I would be happy forever. The day consisted of gardening in the morning, coffee on the porch, naps, playing with blocks, walks around our fields, Phoebe trying a new type of potato at family dinner, and foraging for flowers in my neighbor’s ditches. The Amish were very amused. It was a perfect day, or as close to perfect as I can imagine. I am so grateful for every second of it. I want nothing more, just to honor this moment here. Forever
.Now is time for me to give love. In one way, yes that means Cole gets to go to sleep an extremely satisfied man. In a wholly other, and more important way, it is being here. It is giving a bouquet of wildflowers to my neighbors. It is stopping by our corner store and saying good morning to my community. It is having an intimate birthday firework celebration for the love of my life with our dear friends. It’s healing myself with a strong diet of trauma therapy, self reiki, and meditation. It’s focusing my energy on creating a feeling of fulfillment within me, instead of seeking out others to provide it for me.
I am setting myself up for success.
And it feels so fucking good.
“I am setting myself up for success.
And it feels so fucking good.”
I LOVE this, cheers to that💗 another beautiful read