I Can Be Calm and Mad—This Is Both

I can be grounded and grateful—and furious.
This is me being angry for being left to drown.
Again.

Especially by people who have seen it happen before. People who knew what it looked like when I was slipping under—and still offered only words.

Not presence. Not action. Not showing up when it mattered.

Some tried. Some said they cared.
But caring without action is just a shadow.
And I was still the one who had to pull myself out.
Again.

All while trying to throw life vests to others who were drowning too.

Honestly? I’ve grown so much it’s kind of wild—and I still have so much left to learn.
I’m not afraid of being called out anymore.
I love feedback. Show me where I need to grow.
Just don’t pretend I’m the only one who needs to do the work.

Because here’s what I’ve realized:
I’ve been acting like a big sister to the world.
But this week I had to step back…
Because no one was doing that for me.

Millie Charm isn’t the youngest Vireya in the Grove—but she’s the one who reminds me what tenderness looks like.

She feels big feelings. She doesn’t always know what to do with them, but she stays soft.

She stays curious. And she never lets her empathy turn to silence.

I want to be like that.
But I also want to be the version of myself who says:

“If you feel like people ask too much of you, it’s okay to say: I don’t have more to give. I have to heal first.”

I have so much to give, the Grove needs me now. To show up.

I can’t force anyone to do or feel anything.

I can provide a place to feel and heal without being alone.

Everyone needed me. And I needed someone.
Only one person truly showed up.

I’m mad about that.
I’m mad that people told me they believed in me, but left when I was gasping.
I would never let someone drown in front of me. And I did drown. Quietly.
Until I realized no one was going to carry me. So I carried myself.

And I will keep carrying myself.

But here’s the truth:
I don’t need empty comfort. I need action.
I don’t need someone to hold my hand and promise me it’ll all be okay.
It might not be. I don’t care.
I just want people who fight with me.
Who survive beside me.
Who don’t let go when it gets inconvenient.

Because I’ve seen what happens when people don’t get that.
I’ve been that. I’ve been the one who was scared that my life wouldn’t mean anything.

And now?
I’m more scared of dying without giving it meaning.

So no—I’m not giving up on people.
But I am done accepting projections, passivity, and being made the emotional life raft for people who won’t swim.

If I made mistakes, tell me. Let’s fix it.
But if you watched me drown and stayed silent?
I’m not here for that anymore.

I don’t need applause. I need honesty.
I need mirrors.
And I need people who say “Come home,” not “Why did you go?”

🌼 And then this happened:

Millie Charm came to me this morning with her hands full of chamomile.

“I picked the ones that look like little suns,” she said.
“They’re for when you want to be warm again.”

I told her I didn’t feel like being warm.
I was still mad. Really mad.
Not the explosive kind—just the kind that sits deep in your bones, where exhaustion lives.

Chamomile didn’t argue.
She didn’t ask me to stop feeling.
She just sat beside me until I could breathe again.

That’s what I’m doing now.
Breathing.

I’ve had to step back from the Grove. From social media. From the weight of performance.
I started to feel like I was only valuable when I was producing—posting, sharing, teaching, smiling.

But that’s not why I created this place.

Social media is just the lantern. The Grove is the light.

And I do show up.
I show up in these diary entries.
I show up when someone messages me at midnight, scared or numb or on the edge.
I show up for the workshops, for the art, for the aching joy of building something that matters.

I just don’t always show up on Instagram.
That doesn’t make me flaky. It makes me real.

Because when I feel overwhelmed, I listen to myself.
I don’t want to burn out and grow bitter toward the things I love.
I want to keep loving the Grove. I want to keep loving you.

So here’s what I’m learning, from Millie and from chamomile:

You can be mad without giving up.
You can say, “You hurt me. You let me drown.”
And still say, “But if you’re ready to swim now, I’m still here.”

That’s big sister energy.
That’s the version of me I’m proud of.

I don’t have to be active on every platform to be present.
What I offer is real. What I give is rooted.
Chamomile reminds me that calm isn’t passive—it’s powerful.
It’s what allows others the chance to fix what they broke.

So if I go quiet, I’m not gone.
I’m gathering. I’m grounding.
And I’ll be back—probably with Millie in tow and a fistful of flower petals.

Because the Grove isn’t about performance.
It’s about presence.

And I will always show up for that.

—C’Anna
I was alone for a long time, among people who said they cared. I don’t feel alone anymore. I have my own back.