My Nervous System Said No: Cancelling "The Bite-Sized Herbal," Celebrating, and Floating

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There’s one thing in particular about launching something new that always makes me laugh: the inevitability of immediate adjustments. Anything from minor tweaks to a total back-to-the-drawing-board restart. I love it. It’s infuriating…and hilarious. The way the nature of life itself is always nudging us forward, keeping us moving in the best of ways.

I’m going all the way back to the drawing board with The Bite-Sized Herbal.

[Note: The Bite-Sized Herbal was a monthly paid subscription I was going to offer on Substack. Each issue was going to feature an herb of the month, a natural food strategy of the month, and a natural home strategy of the month.]

Even after opening paid subscriptions on December 16th, I got crickets in response.

No one subscribed.

And I felt…relieved.

I’d been procrastinating hard on writing the January issue of The Bite-Sized Herbal because I just plain haven’t wanted to write it (even though I really really did), and that’s always a sign that I’m overwhelmed.

So.

I’m closing paid subscriptions for now.

I’m taking a step back from The Bite-Sized Herbal.

I may do some surveys to explore a few alternative ideas I already have.

I’d like to find ways to connect on a more individual level with people who read my words here, as well.

And I know I want to refocus on…

• writing about my birth experiences,

• writing about mother-directed birth in general, and

• working through the advanced herbal course (my final course in the Clinical Herbalist study pathway).

Beyond that, I don’t have a detailed plan yet. I probably won’t have a detailed plan for the rest of the year. I chose my word of the year for 2025 after not planning to choose a word of the year at all.

The word I chose was Float.

As in, to rest on the surface of or be suspended in a fluid. As in, to drift on or through, or as if on or through, a fluid. As in, to wander.¹

(The irony of choosing this word…in the middle of not planning to choose a word…is not lost on me.)

Last year, I chose the word Celebrate because I wanted to be done with grieving so many things. I wanted to choose joy. I wanted to celebrate every holiday that’s special to me, every birthday, every anniversary.

I even pushed to host a family Christmas celebration in our tiny apartment, because we were going to celebrate Christmas if I had anything to do with it. But I ended up grieving right through Christmas, too—even amidst the quiet celebrating—because it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t make it the same as Christmases before I was grieving.

I felt like I had failed at celebrating in 2024, until I learned something unexpected right after the new year began.

I learned is that grieving is a celebration. Grief is a celebration of the goodness in what was. Grief is not a result of something being lost. It’s a result of that thing ever having been to begin with.

So, in 2024, I celebrated the relationship I used to have with my biological family. I celebrated that I had reasons to hope that my parents would love me and stick with me even if I chose to honor how they raised me in a way that was uncomfortable for them. I celebrated that I know I will not be carrying on the two-generation family legacy of telling our daughters “it’s not too late to change your mind” when they’re about to walk down the aisle toward someone they deeply love. I celebrated that I had every reason to believe my grandmother when she promised she would love and support me to her grave. I celebrated that I spent years dreaming about a bridal shower, and a wedding with all my family and friends and my dream wedding dress, and a vacation honeymoon. I celebrated that my dad’s inconsistency, his dismissiveness toward me, and his objectification of me in my teens and twenties drove me to the Bible to ask God why in the world would I want You to be a Father to me, and what does that even mean? I celebrated that I’m the mother of Ioannes James, who waits for me in Heaven. I celebrated my daydreaming in years past of what it would be like to have my own baby shower. I celebrated that I’ve tasted the freedom of having my own car, the affluence of never putting off getting anything I needed until it was truly the most pressing need.

Yes, those were all things I grieved the flipside of.

I don’t have a relationship with my biological family anymore. My parents didn’t stick with me when I got married sooner in my relationship with my now-husband than they wanted me to (when I was 28). My mom did tell me “it’s not too late to change your mind” when I was about to walk to my best friend, take his hands in mine, and marry him. My grandmother didn’t keep her promise to support me in the choice that I had made. I didn’t have a bridal shower, a wedding with all my family and friends and the dress I wanted, or a vacation honeymoon. My dad did wound me deeply with his actions and non-actions toward me. Ioannes James didn’t stay with me here on earth. I didn’t have a baby shower, for either of my babies. I don’t have my own car and lots of financial margin.

And I’m sad. I’ve grieved the ways sometimes things just don’t turn out the way I’d imagined, and hoped. I’ve grieved the ways that life has sometimes been uncomfortable, these last few years.

But…

Apparently, I’ve learned, I’ve also been celebrating how amazing it is that hope is powerful enough to be a lifeline in lonely seasons, carrying us forward into whatever comes next. I’ve been celebrating how belief in people is powerful enough to make sure we stay long enough to give them a chance, and opportunities to listen and grow with us. I’ve been celebrating how not having the resources of time, money, energy, or people to throw a party to celebrate a beginning like marriage or birth has no bearing on how deeply, deeply blessed and joyful is the life that those beginnings launch us into.

And…the last month has held some celebrating of its own.

In early December, I had to find a new home for my dog Pepper, who declared herself my unofficial emotional support animal four years ago when I first adopted her. I’m celebrating that she’s going to find a new home that’s perfect for her.

I think I experienced a very early miscarriage over Christmas. I’ll never know for sure, because it began the day I was going to buy a pregnancy test, but I’m celebrating that there may be one more child waiting for me in Heaven.

Ioannes would have been 18 months old on January 7th. And I’m celebrating that I’ve known for 18 months how it feels to birth a child in sacred peace.

This second little one in my arms has started wanting to see the pictures of his big brother on my phone. When I show him, he smiles so big, and it breaks my heart because how does he know deeply enough to also be celebrating?, but I’m celebrating the love between those two.

And after all that celebrating…

I’m weary. I want rest.

I need to Float.

By that, I mean that I’m going to prioritize only the very most important people and missions I’m called to. I mean that I want to slow myself down when I start overplanning, overcommitting, overcompensating…creating more chaos instead of lessening it. I mean that I’m going to avoid creating time-bound projects for myself.

I mean that I’ve been feeling a need to declutter and simplify what belongs to my care again. Things. Goals. Projects. To-do lists. Things that tug at me as I float and make me fight back to stay afloat and keep on course.

I need rest. I need to float.

I mean that I need to get back to writing about what I feel inspired to write. Not trying to write what I think other people need. Not trying to be what hypothetical other people need. I’m going to refocus on being the person I’ve needed, and writing what I wish had been written down for me. I’m going to refocus on being free-floating enough in life to connect with others as opportunities arise…as I find the freest moments in my calendar and tuck them full of coffees and cookies and conversations with friends, like ephemera bookmarks.

I’m weary of barriers to connection. I need community. I need to float.

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So, yes.

I’m shelving The Bite-Sized Herbal for now to make space on my worktable (literally and metaphorically) for whatever I find to do next.

It could be a book or a course. It could be a different monthly subscription. It could be absolutely nothing to do with The Bite-Sized Herbal as I’d envisioned it. *shrugs and smiles* We’ll see.

One of the things I’ll be working on next is more writing, for sure. I’ve missed writing the story of Ioannes, and I still believe the story needs to be told.

If there’s anything in particular you are interested in me writing about, please let me know. You can leave a comment on this post, or click below to send me a direct message.

In the meantime…

*takes a deep breath and smiles*

I’ll be floating.

Love and Blessings,
Rachel

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1. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/float