Larkspur
Rise Back to the Sun
We are midway through the garden of flowers. The journey we have been on has taken us through childhood, winding through Wonderland as we explore the story of my life. Along the way, we have seen my life through the book Alice in Wonderland. A book that I read more times than I can count as a child.
The garden of flowers is where Alice makes her way after drowning in a pool of tears. The grief I experienced in my life opened up colors, experiences and curiosity in me. We have met the Tiger Lily and Violet so far. The tiger lily is fierce, bold and deeply protective, often misunderstood. The violet is quiet and underestimated but quietly builds its power through breaking the introvert mold.
These two flowers symbolize the growing of power, the deep reservoir of quiet determination that builds. As we have talked about before, however, we must cultivate multifaceted aspects of our being. We can be both things. In order for me to continue to grow, to leverage my quiet, harnessed power, I needed to open up, unfurl my petals. Create a life that features an open heart, positivity, the softness you let back in after grief.
The larkspur is named for the bird the lark. Larks sing up to the morning to greet the day. The flower is named literally for the bird that sings while it’s rising. The interesting thing about Larkspur is that it opens from the bottom. It blooms one floret at a time, the lowest blooms first while the top is still tight buds, and the opening travels slowly up the stalk over days. You don’t open a closed heart in a single moment. You open it from the floor, the foundation. Literally the floor in the worst of the moments. The warmth starts in the moments when you pick yourself up off the ground. When warm arms of a loved one wrap around you and pull you to your feet. It rises just like the larkspur towards the sun.
Rising out of grief and loss is never the same for anyone. I think back to the time where I found myself coming out of the fog, seeing the world through a new light. I was curious to consider what changed in me, how did I pull myself up?
There were a few key things I came to as I explored this.
I made survival non-negotiable again. I had survived so many experiences as a child that made the thought of escape palpable. This was the worst of it. I didn’t know how I was going to survive it. So I made it completely mandatory that I would. I told myself daily, this will not take me out.
This mental shift led me to come back to my routine. The things that I knew worked to keep my mind and body active previously that I had given up. I started in small doses. Instead of spiraling on the grief and obsession to keep my daughter alive, I went back to the tiger lily in me. Deeply protective of my time and space. Focusing on true self care no matter what.
I opened up to find community. Grief can be deeply isolating. I wanted to be alone and while needed, it was becoming debilitating. Leading me to depression and feelings of desperation for escape. I started telling people I trusted what was going on in my life. I shared openly with coworkers who I trusted. I quickly found I was not the only one and my circle of support grew.
I fell deeply in love with my partner. We had been together for about 7 years by the time my daughter needed us the most. She was not his biological child. But he flew miles around the country during Covid, participated fully in family therapy sessions. He held me for hours while I sobbed. He drove me for miles around the state because I couldn’t bear to be at home. Listened to me spiral at all hours of the night. Seeing him in this light cemented for me the deep true power of love.
I fought like hell. I worked hard to maintain my brain power, my fight. I channeled my energy into creating a work and home environment where my power was felt. This time, it wasn’t because I felt I needed to prove something. That I needed to combat imposter syndrome. I felt my power from deep within. The knowledge that I would survive this. That I could bring my true self forth to the people both in my home and work life, be authentic. And the skills and lessons I was learning through my grief and my rise back to the sun would fuel me in life. I knew it was not possible for me to give up or lose. That kind of power was exhilarating. Work wasn’t my escape, work was where I tested my power. Work was my experiment.
This leads into one of the most interesting facts about the Larkspur. They are poisonous as hell. As glorious as its rise to the sun, it keeps something hidden to keep itself safe. As much as my power was building and rising, keeping the poison reactions, the fight or flight reactions, was hard to navigate. It is still hard to navigate. That fine line between owning my power and being damaged by its force. I am still working on that line.
The next flower we will meet is the Daisy. This is the start of the opening, the new beginnings. We will explore how I am working on finding that line of owning this power, and having the ability to maintain a level of defense while being soft and open to new experiences.
This week I encourage you to put down something you have been carrying alone. That does not have to be to a person. Sometimes when I write something down, I feel a bit better. Don’t overthink or create anxiety about having to share it with someone else. That day may come. Once you write it down, or even simply say it out loud, the next step to sharing might not feel as scary.