I had reached a breaking point, worn thin by the constant pressure to create perfect moments, instill my ideals into my children, train for half marathons, and maintain a spotless house. I had two young kids under the age of 4, aching hips from overtraining, and a house that looked immaculate but felt empty. My life had become a never-ending cycle of robotic routines. The Self that I once knew seemed to have checked out, leaving me to move through the motions of the day while it quietly waited in the corner for me to remember it.
Then, in the Spring of 2020, something shifted. A simple moment, a single plant in my woods, caught my attention. For the first time in my life, I found myself genuinely curious about a plant’s name. It was as though my tired soul had finally whispered to me, “Wonder what that is?” It was a call to reconnect, to look at the world with fresh eyes, to pause and inquire instead of rushing through.
That tiny spark of curiosity ignited a fire within me. I began to research every plant I encountered, spending hours in nature with my children. We wandered the forests, climbed down to the rivers, and gathered plants I had never noticed before—plantain, bloodroot, coltsfoot, blue cohosh, trout lily, and usnea. What started as an innocent inquiry turned into an obsession to learn, to understand, and to connect with the natural world in a way I had never allowed myself before.
As I immersed myself in the world of plants, I discovered their incredible healing powers. I found myself drawn to herbalism, seeking out knowledgeable practitioners and diving into books about tinctures, teas, and homemade remedies. I learned to dry herbs, create potions, and gather roots for poultices. It felt like stepping into an ancient tradition, something both practical and mystical. I was no longer just “busy”; I was engaged in something real and grounding.
With every passing day, I began to feel a sense of calm that had been missing from my life for years. The constant anxiety over having a perfect home or keeping up with every expectation slowly faded away. I let go of the need to maintain control over everything, including the dirt that accumulated on the floors. I spent hours sitting by the river with my children, watching the time slip away without a trace of guilt or unease. I was present, deeply present, in a way I hadn’t been in a long time.
Instead of obsessing over workouts and physical fitness, I found myself in the forest, pulling stubborn roots from the earth, hiking miles to gather wild leeks, and immersing myself in the natural rhythm of life. I felt a profound sense of connection—to the earth, to the plants, to my children, and to myself. My days no longer felt like a checklist of obligations. They became an ongoing practice of surrender and acceptance.
I realized that I had been running on autopilot for years, chasing after ideals that were never truly mine. The constant pursuit of perfection had drained me, and in its place, I found peace in simply being. I didn’t need to prove anything anymore. I didn’t need to control every detail. I learned to embrace the mess, the spontaneity, and the wildness of life.
As I reflected on this journey, I could see how everything had shifted. My self had risen from the corner where it had been dormant for so long, slowly reentering my life. I was no longer a machine going through motions—I was a woman reconnecting to the essence of who I was meant to be. And for the first time in a long time, I felt whole.
