The Mountains are Calling and I Cannot Go—When Dreams are in Limbo

Pain of the in-between—of the journey and the messy-middle that comprises all dreams

Ten minutes ago, I felt the sting of tears begin to slowly fill my eyes.

And as I think of the moment—they return—hot, full of emotion and pain.

I had been staring into my closet for a span of time I do not know. Time was lost. I had thought of the title of this post and it was the final crack that broke the dam of tears. It was a truth so fitting, it pierced my soul—breaking free what had been building up inside for so long.

I heard my voice whisper the words aloud, moments before the emotion rocked me. I had been trying to pick my clothes out for the day—trying some form of normalcy: shower, brush teeth…try not to think of the pain clenching inside of me.

But my body knew.

Another episode of an endometrial flare-up—terrible womb centered body pains, headaches and more symptoms too much to share. These happen during stress. I’ve had them since I moved to these God-forsaken plains six years ago.

I imagined writing to you about what it’s like to be in limbo—in-between pain and hope—between devastation and a dream, but I am too brimming with emotions. And I have been ever since we left mountain soil in exchange for endless plains.

I have not been able to write. How does one write in the midst of grief?

But something did come in the midst of the waves of pain. It’s not a tailored post or something fake and clean—it’s raw, unfiltered and real—a poem. Written quickly and with exhaustion.

Maybe with this shared truth, we can share threads of hope between each other in a different way today than a normal tailored post.

Maybe these threads can be dirty and messy and honest—just the way they are.

Our very first look into the mountains after half a decade of absence. They were hidden by rain and fog. It felt fitting—the mist echoing my pain.

Nil sine numine

Six years of mountains, six years of plains

One of dreams—the other of pains

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A siren’s song of kinship sweet

Masked the chains beneath my feet

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Spun like a spell, I followed the call 

Leaving my dreams to wither and fall  

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The years went by, the lies made clear

Deception, darkness, seeded in fear

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Death came knocking—I heard her call

Opened the door, began to fall

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For there was nothing left of me

No shadow, no trace, no hope, no plea

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Climbed from the blackness, breath by breath

One trembling step from the mouth of death

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In shadow and dark, with nothing to give

But a mother’s will—to try and live

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To rise from the ashes, to seek once more

A self long shattered upon the floor

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Now the mountains call, and I cannot go

Held in this purgatory—still, I grow

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Breathing again in a place of truth

Far from the lies, the theft of youth

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A life of memory too heavy to bear

High places yet shine, gifting repair

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“The Good Life”—a shimmering, hollow dream

A promise that unraveled seam by seam

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Nil sine numine—with the divine

Whole and unbroken—light now shine

Conclusion

So if you are in an in-between—of painful reality and dreams—a gap that feels so hard, I am here with you in this grief, agony and hope.

To feel is human. To love is honesty. To live in the convergence of love and loss might be the most truthful of all—the transparent reality of our lives.

And in that truth, honesty, pain and hope—

I am wishing you so much love and light,

Alice Wild

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Wildflower Roots

A behind-the-scenes look at what’s next—and connection as we walk this healing journey together, through sunshine and storms.

💛 What’s next:

• Tuesday July 8th (paid): You Don’t Need to be ”Fixed”—You Need to be Accepted - As we launch the second half of our Grounded & Wild series, we’re going to pivot from leaning away from pain to leaning in: facing the emotions that rise with honesty and doing the dance of life with them. Healing modalities can be great but they can also be a different type of fixing and running from what our mind, bodies and souls are desperately asking us to process—to see. To validate. To acknowledge. This is our first step forward to doing just that.

• Thursday July 10th (free): I Had a Hyperfixation Ware Off and Now My Life Feels Life a Black Hole - in this raw and open post, I share past mini-obsessions from knowing the PH balance for proper propagation and chess strategy (when Queen’s Gambit came out) to memorizing every word in Fellowship of the Ring. This month, I had a hyperfixation fizzle out and it has left me restless with existential thoughts. I wondered about the nature of hyperfixations tied to neurodivergence and how we can best navigate the highs and lows.

📝 Behind the scenes:

My last post: I feel like Quitting Substack, received much more attention than I thought it would. It really helped me put what I am doing here in perspective: what this honest and compassionate publication means to people and thoughts on forward motion. I received so much beautiful and honest encouragement—more than I could ever imagine. And I feel so incredibly grateful.

And….a sort of shitty thing…

I lost MORE subscribers. Even two paid readers…

And it makes sense. I was trying to be honest about how I felt due to the plummeting numbers—the last thirty days, I’ve seen numbers drop so fast I wondered if I’d have anyone left at the end of July. Honestly. But maybe I was being a bit too honest.

I’m not quitting Substack.

I am just having a hard time with life lately and a mass exodus of readers furthered the deflation. This was explained inside the post. And further—where we are going. With the Grounded & Wild paid series (we have the second half to go), the next series to come this fall, the story of my hospital stay + diagnoses, the book I’ve written that I will serialize here (!) and I’ve already written several other posts as well—so much to come. ❤️

Our family is just not doing well financially and while I love spending time here—I just need to diversify my time a bit to figure that out. I have run a blog professionally before, making a full-time income and supporting our family. I’m just not sure Substack can do the same. But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up hope! Just that I need to think about putting what felt like all my spare time into Substack.

If you like what you’ve read here, and are open to becoming a paid reader to support my writing and this publication for $5 a month—I would be eternally grateful.

At the end of the day:

Wildflowers Grow will remain a safe space for women and survivors. A place to rest and grow—flourish and connect. And also a place to amplify the light within the voices of those who have been silenced. That’s my mission here.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading and supporting me and Wildflowers Grow.

Thank you for supporting me through the challenges I am going through—in the darkness and light.

With so much love,

Alice Wild

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Alice Wild is a mother, wife, writer, and artist. She has a BFA in Visual Communications and Design and a background in life coaching, helping women reclaim their stories after trauma. Through writing and creative work, she explores healing, identity, and the art of slow living.

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💌 An Invitation

Thank you so much for being here. If you’ve found comfort, resonance, or even a spark of hope in these words, I’d love to invite you deeper. Becoming a paid subscriber helps sustain this space—a soft landing for women healing, reclaiming their voice, and learning to live again. It supports my work as a trauma-informed, soul-led writer and unlocks an additional, more intimate post each week (right now we are running the Grounded & Wild Summer Series)—written with honesty, heart, and a hand held out towards you.

Support women getting paid for their work and the voices of women everywhere.

Click this link to upgrade. (If you are in the app, click on the link and open it in your phone’s browser—then sign in.)

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💬 Join the conversation: Are you in a place of in-between—where something about where you are at right now feels like a disconnect from where you wish you were?