My Monster Has a Name (and It's Anxiety)

“I think--” I started and hesitated. “I think I might have anxiety.” I made this admission to my husband late one afternoon as we went for a lazy stroll together by the lake.

“You think?” he responded incredulously.

“Yeah. I just-- wait, how long have you known?”

“Always.”

This may seem unbelievable to some people, but I really didn’t know.

Why I Cried at a Farm: A Seed to Seal Story

We drove down the dusty Utah highway. It was only 11am but the sun was already hot. Still, we kept the windows down and let the warm, dry air cool the sweat off our faces before it could fully form.

The bossy voice from Google Maps told me to turn right up ahead. I listened, slowing the little put-put rental car down as we exited onto a country road. Only a half mile off the highway, the fields sprang up on either side: golden, purple, green.

And despite the fact that I like to think of myself as a very unemotional person. Despite the fact that I swore to my friends that I would not be crying when we went to Utah together.

Tears quickly filled my eyes.

We had arrived at Young Living’s Whispering Springs Farm in Mona, Utah.