Sitting on some thoughts

Reminding myself to slow down.

Hi again! I’m excited to be back with another post. :) I’m sitting out by the sunflower field in a lovely Adirondack chair my dad gave me for my birthday. Today’s post is connected to my last one - about how a massive field of sunflowers (my “sign” for my late brother, Pierce) appeared in my backyard. They arrived in my last few days as a 28 year old (Pierce’s age when he passed), during a difficult few days in the family grief department. It couldn’t have felt like more of an obvious “hi”.

I’m writing about the sunflowers again, but less about that magical experience. The magic around them actually faded hard, and fast…and while I really believe Pierce had something to do with this gift, I also think he absolutely trolled us.

After the first sunflower appeared, more and more yellow bursts started to pop open. They stung my eyes at times with their brightness - and quickly caught the attention of those driving past. People began flocking, from near and far. It felt like all of America stopped by. But between the personal photoshoots, family photoshoots, and people ripping sunflowers out of the ground, the strangest thing I observed was the universal fact that one thing met the field before anyone’s actual eyes: their cellphone cameras.

All of America and their phone-holding-arms approached the sunflowers like a bunch of zombies. When I first noticed the sunflowers, I immediately took a photo, too. And many more after that. But I just can’t stop thinking about the way we live - with, and for - our phones.

It’s made me go inward and reflect, not just on my habits today, but also on my past. A past driven almost entirely by my online presence and connection to others, through my phone.

In high school, I went to boarding school but going home always felt difficult. Home for me was quiet, restorative, and family filled. Home for most of my friends was friend-filled, plan-filled, and seemed fun. I wish I enjoyed what I had for what it was, but I felt like the biggest loser as I heard from friends and saw all that everyone was up to. I became hyper self conscious and suddenly wanted nothing to do with my real life. What's a better escape than leaning into the good old social media?

As my insecurities grew, my subconscious desire to make my life look more interesting online grew too. I took photos of literally anything (obviously with the color saturation adjusted to the max), invited myself to so many things, and spent time with anyone I could find, all in an effort to capture my life in a way that made it look like I was busy, having fun, and doing normal teenager things.

I give myself some grace now, knowing that I was a just a lost high schooler, but god damn I must have been annoying. Actually, I know for a fact one person thought I was annoying, because he wasn’t afraid to let me know. His name was Pierce. I thought it was just a classic big brother/little sister thing, but looking back, I was just straight up annoying. My heart was in nothing I was actually doing, and I think that probably upset him the most.

The winter before Pierce passed away, I was in a very dark place and felt the safest talking to him and my oldest brother, Griff. The annoying sister is back, but in a spiral of tears and obsessive thoughts! I always thought my brothers were pretty lame, since they didn’t live life the way I did (for the gram), but I felt safest talking to them because I knew they’d understand, after going through hard times of their own. They made me feel so genuinely not alone, and Pierce so deeply promised me that everything would be okay

During this time, I struggled a lot with the life I constructed for myself through high school and college. The chemicals inside my brain, and the life in front of me (not to mention the rest of the world - mid pandemic) were all out of sorts.

After months of therapy and finding the right medication, I felt alive again. But then Pierce starting slipping away.

We were both living at home, so we spent a ton of time together, and I’m grateful I was in a mental state to be able to support him. But no one could convince him to believe his own promise, that things would get better. After one month of difficult talks, walks, and lunch breaks together, Pierce was gone.

In the summer afterwards, I spent a lot of time going through his journals and writing bits to find anything to make more sense of things. I frequently came across little reminders to slow down, which I connected to deeply, while fighting against some kind of mania I was experiencing due to the combined shock of losing him and the newfound serotonin in my brain.

While I was going faster than some might have expected, I went out on a mission to figure out how to slow down, and do things that felt right - something Pierce always did (whether they were good ideas or not). I still feel this way, but sometimes the rush of life can make it easy to forget.

So while the sunflowers turned into a bit of a freak-show, perhaps it was all part of Pierce’s birthday plan - a gift, a prank, and a reminder to slow down. The field is slowly getting back its old quiet self as the sunflowers hang their heavy seeded heads down towards the soil, but as I wrap up this post, a little streak of late bloomers stands bright, right in front of me. Hi P.