🌿 When Life Gets on Top of Us

The past couple of weeks… I haven’t been very nice to myself.

Not in the loud, obvious ways — but in the quiet ones.

The self-doubt.

The constant pressure.

The intrusive thoughts that sneak in when I finally sit down after packing lunches, signing folders, answering emails, rocking a teething baby, remembering who has speech therapy on what day, what time school starts tomorrow because of early release, who needs a snack for practice, and whether or not everyone has actually brushed their teeth.

Because apparently — and I learned this the hard way with Nate the other day — we are now at the point where we will leave the house for school without shoes…

Not because we forgot.

But because someone decided that if they just didn’t wear them, maybe we’d have to turn around and go home. 🙃

These are the things no one talks about.

The constant remembering.

The mental checklists.

The tiny negotiations before 8am.

The “did I sign that?”

The “is today library day?”

The “who has practice?”

The “did I reply to that teacher?”

The “where are your SHOES?”

It’s not so much about the house or the laundry lately.

It’s the mental load.

And when there isn’t something actively going on, my brain has been more than happy to fill the silence with what could happen.

What if something goes wrong?

What if I can’t keep up?

What if I fail?

What if Wildflower isn’t sustainable?

What if I poured everything into something that was only meant to be temporary?

And before I know it, I’ve spiraled.

Life isn’t perfect — and I’ve never wanted to pretend that it is.

Which is why this is hard to admit:

I’ve thought about giving up Wildflower.

I’ve thought about putting Unraveled Grace on the shelf indefinitely — not because I don’t believe in it, but because right now… it just isn’t coming together the way I thought it would.

There just isn’t enough time.

Between the kids’ school schedules, Nate’s speech therapy, baby Emmy still waking through the night trying to cut teeth, vendor prep, and all of the tiny invisible details it takes to keep everyone where they need to be — writing has become something I have to squeeze into the cracks of the day instead of something I get to sit down and breathe into.

And that hurts.

Because Unraveled Grace was supposed to be the follow up to Becoming Her Again. It was supposed to flow easier this time.

It was supposed to come naturally.

But grace — the real kind — often comes through unraveling first.

Mental illness has a funny way of showing up in seasons like this.

It lies.

It feeds on exhaustion.

It thrives in overwhelm.

It LOVES to whisper that if you can’t do it all, you shouldn’t do any of it.

It tells me that because the words aren’t flowing right now, maybe they never will again. That because I can’t show up perfectly, maybe I shouldn’t show up at all.

But Wildflower was never about perfection.

Wildflower Expressions was born in a season where I had nothing left to give but honesty. It came from tears, burnout, and trying to make meaning out of survival.

And maybe this — this tension between motherhood and mission, creativity and capacity, purpose and presence is part of the story too.

Right now, I’m trying to be present enough to recognize when my mind is spiraling…Self-aware enough to call out the lies…Gentle enough with myself to accept that some seasons are meant for planting, not blooming.

Wildflower is about all the imperfections that are still ripe for growing.

And maybe Unraveled Grace isn’t falling apart.

Maybe it’s just being written in the margins of motherhood instead of the quiet.