Wildflowers, Grovekeepers & The Story Behind the Light

Dear Wildflowers,

We’re wrapping up Internet Safety Week here in the Grove.

As promised, if I had longer thoughts—they’d find their way to you here.

And I also said I’d keep owning who I am. So… let’s begin.

It’s a little after midnight as I write this. And while this may not flow perfectly, these are the thoughts I need to share.

Tonight especially—because I sit with the sting of losing another friend, and I do what I’ve always done to survive:

I take that pain, and I offer it to the page. I share these pieces of my story—not just to heal, but to bring me and you a little closer.

Why Do I Call You Wildflowers and Grovekeepers?

Wildflowers are the younger ones. The ones who still need healing or help. The ones figuring out where they bloom.

Wildflowers can be survivors of unspeakable things—or simply souls who’ve felt too alone, too unseen, for far too long.

Those struggling with mental health, or just life. The ones still growing.

They are the ones many would call victims. Or hopeless.

Unwanted. Unnecessary. Or just plain too much.

But those are the ones I know need something sacred—a place to feel safe in a dangerous and scary world.

With everything going on out there, I know what you’re really searching for…

One simple thing: hope.

Aunt C’Anna is a marigold wildflower.

Lonely. Sad. Out of place for most of her early years.

And yet—resilient. Stronger than she knew.

(And yes—marigolds are wildflowers, no question between us.)

So What Is a Grovekeeper?

Wildflowers are the ones still healing. Still learning.

But Grovekeepers… they’re who we become.

I don’t have any yet. Not officially.

Because Essence Grove is my heart. And I won’t trust just anyone with it.

Grovekeepers are earned.

They rise from the wildflowers—not because they’re perfect, but because they are safe.

They’ve walked through fire and still choose to protect others.

Not for money. Not for praise.

But for heart.

Grovekeepers will be the ones who hold hope and pass it on.

They carry lessons meant to keep you safe, and help you keep going.

They are the ones you can turn to when life is too much or too scary.

They don’t try to fix you. They won’t cross boundaries or reach too far.

They’re not there to control, or rescue, or pull you out of your own story.

They’re just here to walk beside you.

To offer care.

To be safe in a world that isn’t.

This is a quiet revolution.

And it’s only just beginning.

So who is Aunt C’Anna?

Simply put—she’s the person I needed.

The one I searched for when the world felt too loud, too scary, or too empty.

She’s calm when I’m overwhelmed.

Steady when I spiral.

And safe, even when nothing else feels that way.

She is not perfect. But she is present.

She listens without rushing.

She believes you without question.

She protects without hesitation.

Aunt C’Anna is who I became…

because no one else showed up that way.

And now she’s here, for the wildflowers.

For the ones still waiting to feel safe.

A Story You Deserve to Know

I don’t know if you like when I go a little deep—but I believe the only way you can trust me… is to know me.

My life wasn’t awful. We had good times. My mom worked hard to keep us safe.

But like so many women, she couldn’t always be everywhere.

There were unsafe uncles. A psycho ex. Fear found us young.

(But I also want to say—I have three amazing, safe uncles too, and I love them deeply.)

I won’t go into all of that now—it belongs in a space we call Where the Light Hides (for 18+ or those with room to hold trauma).

Back then, I had speech issues.

So I told Shane Stories—my way of making sense of what didn’t make sense.

There was a teacher who noticed something was off.

He taught me in 4th and 5th grade—not even my favorite—but I think he would’ve pushed harder if I’d been ready.

I was shy and loud all at once. Hyper. Anxious. I didn’t want to be seen, because it usually led to something worse—drama, pain, guilt.

Every time I spoke, I worried I’d say the wrong thing and end up hurting someone… or myself.

I’ve said before—I wasn’t always careful with others.

I had one solid year of high school before I gave up on friendships.

The turning point? Realizing I wasn’t actually part of the friend group I hung around. I was just there.

My mom has a good heart. She protected me as much as she could.

But like I said… dangers don’t always ask permission to show up.

This Is a Good Stopping Point

I’ve shared before that I have trouble sleeping. Some of that comes from the past.

Some of it from the damage done when doctors dismissed me—pushing meds that hurt me, telling me to keep taking them despite the pain, brushing it off as trauma or anxiety.

A female doctor once focused more on birth control or fertility pills than the crushing pain I came to talk about.

That created a whole new fear—of doctors. Of hospitals. Of not being believed.

Eventually, I stopped the meds. Started doing yoga. Ate only what I needed.

It helps.

But there’s still damage from the medicine that “was all in my head.”

And then—there’s the weight I carried. All of it.

I worked in a place filled with men who were predators.

I didn’t realize how deeply my trauma still lived in me—until my body started reacting before my mind could catch up.

I gained a lot of weight during that time. I didn’t understand why.

But now I do: the body remembers unsafe places.

Even after you get out, the fear lingers.

I’ve lost 90 pounds now.

And I’m proud of that. Not for how I look—but for reclaiming my space.

For listening to my body again.

For finding safety in myself.

The environment you’re in can shape your sense of safety—even if you don’t realize it yet.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you.

For holding my story. For being part of this Grove.

You’re not alone.

And I’m not either—not anymore.

We’ll keep growing, together.

With love,

– Aunt C’Anna

Essence Grove