This is my first time blogging. As an avid journal writer, I’ve spent my life writing profusely. My thoughts, hopes, prayers, dreams, fears, accomplishments, failures…everything. A couple of nights ago, I decided to give this a try. 2020 was a year to remember and as we know, the pandemic took a huge toll on everyone. For me, it was a year of enlightenment. I bought my first home and moved in just before the world shut down. There I was, in a brand new space with nothing but time. So I decided..to do a little work.

Family is very important to me. I lost my paternal grandmother when I was in second grade. She was a beautiful woman, with the kindest eyes and warmest smile you’ve ever seen. I didn’t get to spend much time with her, but I remember how she made me feel. Loved. I grew up at my maternal grandparents’ house. My mom’s mom was my person. I am the youngest grandchild on that side of my family and I jokingly tease my cousins about being the favorite simply because I was “the last one”. In March 2019, my Mama Frankie passed away. I’ve never cried as hard as I cried that day. I never knew what numbness felt like or just how loud someone’s absence could be, until that day. My light went out. I lost the only other person outside of my Grandma Cat, parents,&  grandfather who made me feel..loved. I was devastated. I couldn’t form words to describe it and for the first time in my life, I couldn’t write. Grief is a space. You can visit, you can live there permanently, or you can run away. I don’t recommend running. It only makes things harder to navigate in the future. For me, my grief…started as this space. Dark, cold, thick, sad, rough, angry, desperate, and defeated. My space was very heavy and I found myself struggling to find a way out. My Mama Frankie was amazing. The most amazing woman in the world. She was one of those people who just “knew”. Didn’t matter what it was or where I was. She knew. She could feel me. She could see me. When I was younger, I didn’t realize that was her intuition. I just thought it was one of those things older women could do with time. But the more I kept living, the more she kept seeing me and the more I realized why she was the most amazing woman in the world. I didn’t have to use words with her. I could sit and say nothing, I could sit and say it all. I  could cry out, or I could silently sit on the porch and let the wind pass us by. Whatever method I chose, she knew. It’s hard to recover from losing someone like that. Someone so pure with their intentions, love, and care for you. You can imagine why my grief was such a huge space.

I decided to make a change…

• Did you know that sadness, anger, bitterness and other emotions can take a toll not only emotionally, but physically as well? You can have a heart attack, die, and upon inspection of your heart, a root of bitterness can be found. (Seriously, check it out.)
• I no longer wanted my grief to be a dark and cold place. I no longer wanted to be a dark and cold person. I wanted to be what I love the most. A sunflower. So I turned my grief…into my garden. My Garden of Growth.

So here’s my plan. I’m pretty flexible nowadays —teaching during a pandemic will do that to you 😉. I want to share what I’ve learned about life, growth, release, awareness, forgiveness, and many more areas that I decided to give my attention to. I like to think that this is what my Granny wanted for me. To take a moment to stop and listen to my intuition and create a life full of genuine love, just like what she gave me. I don’t know where we’re going, but I’m excited and I hope you join me in the garden soon. Take care!

-ToriB 💕