🌼 Chamomile Truths (and the Wildflower Who Wouldn’t Wilt)

I think as I sat with Millie this week, it got clearer.

The truths. The ones I didn’t want to face.

I can be mad at others. I can say, “You let me drown.”

But at the end of the day, it was on me.

I saw the warning signs. I felt them.

I even said the words. And when the silence stayed, I gave up.

That’s on me.

I don’t know how to ask for help—but I was open. I never hid what I was going through.

I still let things go dark again. I became complacent. I let the ache swallow me.

I got sick. I gave up. And what if I had let that win?

I wouldn’t be here—getting stronger, day by day. I wouldn’t be building something that breathes.

I wouldn’t be writing this now, still fighting for the light. It scares me how bad it got.

It also made me realize how much I have to lose.

Maybe it is too soon to build something as big as Essence Grove.

Or maybe… it’s exactly what I need. To remember: I can’t give up. Not again.

I hate the phrase “I have to do better.” But it’s my truth. My motto. My lifeline.

If my words hurt anyone this week—know that I’m not sorry for speaking them.

I’m sorry if they caught you off guard. But not for the truth inside them.

There’s some silence now in the Grove. As we take a step back, and figure out the hard truths.

You always get 100% with me. No more shrinking. No more hiding. No more pretending I’m not “too much” sometimes.

🌙 And still—there’s more.

The ones who say they care? They don’t always read these. Or they’re just now learning they should.

When they do, it stirs up their own guilt. They leave with insecurities. They think I’m saying they weren’t enough.

This isn’t about blame. This is about me, trying to breathe.

Trying to build something that protects other people from feeling the way I did.

I talk about showing up—and I do. With words, with tools, with love.

I’ve never asked anyone to do something I wouldn’t do myself. That’s what I’m realizing is too much to ask.

When I get mad at people for needing too much, it’s because I have always told everyone: I’m distracted. I’m emotional. I overthink. I love loud.

I’m overprotective. I’ve been through too much. And still, I smile. Still, I try.

Underneath, I also was calling out for you and you did nothing. I don’t owe you that lost time.

When I say “think for yourself,” I mean—show up for yourself.

I can’t carry those who can carry themselves. I can’t think for those who know how to do better.

That’s part of why I never became a mom. I always loved the idea of being the Aunt.

The one who walks beside, not in front. The one who teaches you to steer, not the one who drives you there.

I’ve never lied about my truths. I’ve said: Don’t need me too much. Don’t love me too much.

Not because I don’t deserve it, but because that’s not what I want. Not what I can handle without crumbling.

I’m a protector, I’m safe. I want to be that for more than a handful of people.

I want to love you while I can— until you find a place or person that feels like home.

I want to offer my now, without thinking about forever. I want to be present, not owned.

I had a love that made me want to be the best. It never was because of parts of me I thought I needed to change that it failed.

It failed from the parts that, honestly didn’t believe in true love. My unlived fairytale. Just mine.

So if you read this and feel a sting, ask yourself: Have I shown up? Have I taken interest beyond surface level?

Do I want to be called in—or am I just afraid of being called out?

Chamomile taught me it’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to say, “I let me down,” and still hold yourself gently after.

To say: “I’m not too much. I’m allowed to be calm now.” “I said what I needed to say.” “How they move forward? That’s on them.”

I want people in my life who don’t just call me out— but help me grow. Not surface-level support. Not empty words. Real roots. Real care.

I’m a weird wildflower, blooming at the edge of the woods, still trying to build a garden.

Still growing. Still listening. Still here.

And that? That’ll never stop.

I found the fight for my life.

I want to save everyone. I can’t. I can only walk beside you.

With fire and flowers,
— Aunt C’Anna
🌼 Chamomile Truths: I am mad at me, because I should’ve been part of my own dreams. 🌙