Coldpoint Seafoods

03/29/2026

12/31/2025

Motherhood has a way of reshaping you quietly—before you even realize it’s happening.

I’m learning that I can love this season deeply and still grieve the versions of myself that came before it. The independent woman. The achiever. The one who could push through discomfort and keep going. She didn’t disappear—but she did change.

Some days, anxiety makes that shift feel heavy. Like I’m losing parts of myself instead of expanding. But other days, I see it more clearly.

I’m not becoming less of who I was.
I’m becoming more—just differently.

Slower. Softer. More aware of my limits.
More present. More human.

I’m learning that strength now looks like resting.
That productivity doesn’t define my worth.
That being “enough” doesn’t require proving anything at all.

I’m still finding my footing in this new identity—
as a mother, a partner, a woman in transition.

And maybe that’s exactly where I’m meant to be.

✨ If you’re navigating a shift in who you are—or who you’re becoming—I’d love to hear what that’s looked like for you. ✨

12/29/2025

Overwhelming anxiety.
It’s labeled Generalized Anxiety Disorder in my medical chart, but that label barely scratches the surface of what it looks like for me.

Mine is multifaceted—confusing and deeply frustrating. It has peaks and valleys, but mostly peaks. The “good” days are the ones where the tightness in my chest only shows up once. My anxiety doesn’t really take days off. It’s consistent in that way.

I use the tools. I try the tricks. But when I become overstimulated, it turns into pure chaos in my body.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were especially hard. I wanted—so badly—to fully take in every moment of my first Christmas as a mom. And I did enjoy moments. Truly. But I was short with my husband. I felt rushed everywhere we went. I didn’t slow down when my body was begging me to rest.

Right now, I’m in that overstimulated, high-anxiety space. Where I have a million and one things to do—and no energy or capacity to do any of them.

So for now, I take an anxiety pill. I pray it kicks in—and actually works. I sit in a tiny plush strawberry meant for children, facing what will eventually be my new view, and I just… pause.

Some seasons aren’t about fixing or finishing.
They’re about surviving what’s loud inside your body.

More soon.

12/22/2025

Another soul lost to the cruel trick of brain chemistry—
the lie that tells us there is no way out.
Depression doesn’t strike all at once.
It takes.
And takes.
Until one day, there’s nothing left to give.

I know that place.
I know it too well.
I’ve stood there more times than I can count.

Even when I’m on solid ground—
even when I’m in the sand (I’ll explain that someday)—
I know it’s there.
Waiting.
Ready to pull me under on any random moment of any ordinary day.

So I gather joy fiercely on the good days.
I hold it tight.
I wring it dry.

Do I live in fear every single day?
Yes.
Because I am never fully free.

It waits.
Patient.
Relentless.

And still—somehow—I’ve always had just enough to hold on.
Enough breath.
Enough light.
Enough reason.

I won’t pretend the fear of letting go doesn’t exist.
It does.
It whispers.
It lingers.

This life—
one I know I do not live alone.
Millions walk this same invisible battlefield.

I pray for peace.
For your soul.
For mine.

There is a reason I am still here.
I believe that with everything in me.
Now I just have to learn how to turn my pain into something beautiful.
Something heard.
Something that helps even one person hold on a little longer.

I don’t believe I’m still here fighting the devil
if it’s only for me.
It has to be for something more.



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12/14/2025

12/10/2025

Time for a real intro. So here goes!

Welcome to Cultivating Life with Marie — a space grown from truth, tenderness, and the wild, tangled beauty of being human.

I’m Marie.
A mother made through the miracles of IVF and surrogacy.
A gardener who finds healing in the quiet bloom of dahlias.
A woman navigating the crashing waves of depression and anxiety, learning—again and again—how to rise for the sunlight.

This is my place to share it all:
the joy, the grit, the mess, the growth, the doubt, the hope, and every in-between moment that shapes a real, imperfect life.

Here, vulnerability isn’t something to hide.
It’s something to cultivate.

I show up with raw honesty and an open heart, believing deeply that there is strength in being seen—and peace in seeing one another. My promise is that you’ll find no judgment here. Only acceptance. Only truth. Only the gentle reminder that none of us are alone in our becoming.

So follow along.
Walk with me through the gardens, the milestones, the heartbreaks, the small miracles, and the quiet victories.
Together, we’ll grow something real.

Welcome to a life being cultivated—one honest story at a time.

Like and follow along!

03/01/2025