…And Also My Secret Need to Fit In

I am eccentric.
I am quirky.
I am a little bit wild around the edges.

Or at least… that’s what I tell myself.

And mostly, I do believe it.

I love that my work is different. I love that my days are not all pressed shirts, office chairs, and answering emails under fluorescent lights. I love that my work smells of herbs, teas, oils, flowers, tinctures, and a little bit of mystery.

I love that I get to walk this crooked, plant-covered path.

But if I’m being fully honest?

Some days I don’t want to be different at all.

Some days I want to fit in.

Some days I want someone to ask me what I do for work and for me to be able to say,
“Oh, I work in an office.”

Simple. Clean. Done.

No confused blinking.
No awkward pause.
No trying to explain what a herbalist is while sounding like I’ve just emerged barefoot from a hedge carrying nettles and opinions.

And sure, maybe I have done exactly that before.

The Pull Between Wild & “Normal”

That’s the strange thing, isn’t it?

A person can deeply love who they are… and still sometimes wish they were easier to explain.

Some days I want to rage against the machine.
Some days I want to disappear quietly into the wallpaper and not get involved in a single thing.

Some days I want to dress like I’ve fallen backwards through a rainbow every colour, every stripe, every spot, every gloriously clashing layer I can find.

And some days I want to look… normal.

(Though to be fair, I’m not entirely sure what “normal” is meant to look like anymore.)

Maybe less “forest woman with emotional support mugwort.”
Maybe more “woman who probably owns a capsule wardrobe.”

I don’t even necessarily want to be normal.

I just sometimes want the ease that seems to come with it.

The ease of blending in.
The ease of not needing to explain yourself.
The ease of being legible to the world.

The Beautiful Side of Herbal Work

…and the Hard Side Too

Herbalism can look so dreamy from the outside.

And to be fair, sometimes it really is.

Sometimes it’s harvesting honeysuckle and trying not to become completely intoxicated on scent and sunshine.

Sometimes it’s standing in the garden with stained fingers and a basket full of medicine, feeling like the old ways are still alive and humming quietly under the skin of the world.

Sometimes it’s making teas, oils, syrups, and salves and thinking,
“Good God, I love this life.”

But that’s only one side of it.

The other side is real life.

The other side is seeing people when they are worn thin, burnt out, frightened, grieving, depleted, or after they’ve already tried everything else and are arriving at herbs as one more small hope.

That is sacred work.
But it can also be heavy work.

And then there’s the wildly unglamorous side of being self-employed, heart-led, and herb covered.

Like invoices.
Admin.
Emails.
Trying to remember passwords.
And balancing your bank account while discovering, once again, that somehow you are out by three bloody cents.

How?
Why?
Who cursed me?

Maybe I Don’t Need to Change

For a while I thought maybe the answer was to become more polished. More straightforward. More sensible. More… digestible.

Less odd.
Less colourful.
Less me.

But I don’t think that’s actually what’s needed.

Maybe the real work is not forcing myself to become one thing or the other.

Maybe the work is simply allowing all of it.

The wildness.
The softness.
The rebellion.
The longing to belong.

Maybe the mantra is not just:

I embrace my eccentricities and quirks.

Maybe it is:

I embrace my eccentricities, my quirks, and the tender parts of me that still sometimes want to fit in.

Because that part deserves kindness too.

There is no shame in wanting belonging.
There is no failure in wanting ease.

You can be wonderfully strange and still sometimes wish the world made more room for that.

Herbs for Times of Transition, Tenderness & Becoming

When I’m moving through these in-between places when I feel pulled between who I am and who I think I should be  I find myself leaning on the plants.

Not to “fix” me.
But to be a companion to me.

To help me soften.
To help me listen.
To help me stay rooted while something inside me shifts.

A few herbs I’d reach for:

Yarrow

For protection, boundaries, and helping us move through the shedding of old skins.

Mugwort

For thresholds, intuition, dreaming, and walking the uncertain path with a little more trust.

Burdock

For grounding, nourishment, steadiness, and remembering that transformation needs feeding too.

And maybe most importantly of all:

Be gentle with yourself.

Be compassionate with yourself.

Use every tool you have.

Plants to support the journey.
Imagination to help you see what’s shifting.
Visualisation to help you meet your own energy with care.

And never underestimate the spiritual and emotional power of a good cup of tea.

Sometimes a mug in your hands is not just a mug in your hands.

Sometimes it is medicine.
Sometimes it is ritual.
Sometimes it is the thing that helps the whole world feel a little less jagged for five blessed minutes.

And honestly?

Sometimes that is more than enough.

Stress-Free Tea

Blend by Karen M. Rose

A soft, steadying blend for the days when your nerves are frayed, your thoughts are loud, and your spirit could do with a bit of kindness.

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons linden flowers
• 1 tablespoon rose petals
• 1 tablespoon dried hawthorn leaves and flowers
• 1 tablespoon dried chamomile
• 1 tablespoon dried rosemary
• Honey, if you like

To Make

Mix all the herbs together and store in a clean jar.

When needed, use 1 tablespoon per cup of freshly boiled water.
Cover and steep for 10–15 minutes.
Strain, sweeten with honey if desired, and drink slowly.

Preferably while staring out a window dramatically or wrapped in a blanket contemplating your life.

Both are valid herbal techniques.

Love

Laura & the plants x