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HEART & EMOTIONAL WELLNESS

Heartbreak, Grief & Loss Tincture

herbal support for grief and heartbreak

Sale price$30.00

There are seasons the heart cannot rush through. This is an herbal tincture for grief and heartbreak, made for the long, tender weeks when the body is only asking to be held. Hawthorn for the emotional heart, Mimosa for the heaviness, Linden and Lemon Balm for a nervous system pulled thin.

floral · bittersweet · steadying · slow

Heartbreak, Grief & Loss Tincture
Heartbreak, Grief & Loss Tincture Sale price$30.00

Heartbreak, Grief & Loss

PRODUCT DETAILS

The Plants

In the European herbalism tradition, the herbs reached for during seasons of mourning are the same ones reached for to steady the heart: Hawthorn, Linden, Rose. They were the plants that hedged the threshold between the living and the dead, the plants women braided into the hair of brides and dressed the bodies of the recently passed. The grieving heart and the celebrating heart turn out to share the same medicine.

This formula is built on that lineage. Hawthorn aerial parts hold the center, both the Celtic tree of the threshold and a member of the Rose family, traditionally turned to when the heart is asked to carry more than it knows how. Mimosa flowers, the Chinese tree of happiness, are the lighter counterweight, gathered for the long heaviness that grief brings into the chest. Linden and Lemon Balm soften the nervous system around the work the heart is doing. Skullcap is the slow, restorative thread underneath, for the kind of fatigue that builds across weeks of feeling everything. Rose anchors the whole formula in compassion.

The plants do not move grief along. They sit with the body while it does its own work. This is the slower medicine, the kind that becomes a returning presence rather than a quick relief.

Tasting Notes

Tasting Notes

Floral · faintly bitter · soft · honey-sweet finish

Ritual Moment

Ritual Moment

Mornings and the heavy hours

Season of Life

Season of Life

Times of loss and transition

Energetics

Energetics

Heart-anchoring · softening

Tasting Notes

Tasting Notes

Floral · faintly bitter · soft · honey-sweet finish

Ritual Moment

Ritual Moment

Mornings and the heavy hours

Season of Life

Season of Life

Times of loss and transition

Energetics

Energetics

Heart-anchoring · softening

Mimosa

Mimosa, the silk tree, is best known by her summer blossoms, those soft pink filaments that look more like feathers than flowers. The Chinese have called her He Huan Hua for centuries, which translates roughly to "collective happiness flower," and traditional Chinese medicine has turned to her for the kind of heaviness that settles in the chest after a loss. I harvest these blossoms myself in early summer from the trees that grow wild in pockets of Southern California, gathered while they are still freshly opened and most fragrant. She is the lighter note in the formula, the small uplift inside the heaviness. Not to bypass grief, but to make the body's weight a little more bearable as it moves through.

Hawthorn

Hawthorn grows along the hedgerows of the British Isles and across Europe, a small thorned tree that flowers white in late spring and bears red haws in the autumn. In the Celtic tradition she was the threshold tree, the plant that marked the in-between: sacred ground, planted to protect what mattered most. I work with her aerial parts rather than her berries because the leaves and flowers carry the threshold medicine most clearly, the medicine for the heart that is between two seasons of itself. She steadies without numbing. She does not pretend grief is something other than what it is.

Linden

Linden is one of the great heart trees of European herbalism, a tall, sweet-smelling tree whose leaves are shaped like little hearts and whose flowers carry a honey-like fragrance when they bloom in midsummer. Across the old herbals, she is reached for in seasons of acute distress: for the children who cannot sleep, for the women who have cried too long, for the bodies whose nervous systems have run themselves thin around a sorrow. She has a moistening quality, which is what the over-cried, over-extended body is asking for. In this formula she works alongside Lemon Balm to soften everything around the work the heart is doing. She does not push; she softens what is already there.

Skullcap

Skullcap is a small wetland herb of the North American mint family, with delicate blue helmet-shaped flowers along the stem (the cap that gave her her name). She is one of the great Western nervines, traditionally reached for when the nervous system has been carrying something for a long time: the chronic stress, the prolonged emotional weight, the kind of strain that does not lift in a night's sleep. She is restorative more than sedating. In this formula she is the slow undercurrent, the trophorestorative for the body that has been doing the long work of grief. She does not make the grief smaller; she makes the body that is holding it more able to keep holding it.

Mimosa

Mimosa, the silk tree, is best known by her summer blossoms, those soft pink filaments that look more like feathers than flowers. The Chinese have called her He Huan Hua for centuries, which translates roughly to "collective happiness flower," and traditional Chinese medicine has turned to her for the kind of heaviness that settles in the chest after a loss. I harvest these blossoms myself in early summer from the trees that grow wild in pockets of Southern California, gathered while they are still freshly opened and most fragrant. She is the lighter note in the formula, the small uplift inside the heaviness. Not to bypass grief, but to make the body's weight a little more bearable as it moves through.

Hawthorn

Hawthorn grows along the hedgerows of the British Isles and across Europe, a small thorned tree that flowers white in late spring and bears red haws in the autumn. In the Celtic tradition she was the threshold tree, the plant that marked the in-between: sacred ground, planted to protect what mattered most. I work with her aerial parts rather than her berries because the leaves and flowers carry the threshold medicine most clearly, the medicine for the heart that is between two seasons of itself. She steadies without numbing. She does not pretend grief is something other than what it is.

Linden

Linden is one of the great heart trees of European herbalism, a tall, sweet-smelling tree whose leaves are shaped like little hearts and whose flowers carry a honey-like fragrance when they bloom in midsummer. Across the old herbals, she is reached for in seasons of acute distress: for the children who cannot sleep, for the women who have cried too long, for the bodies whose nervous systems have run themselves thin around a sorrow. She has a moistening quality, which is what the over-cried, over-extended body is asking for. In this formula she works alongside Lemon Balm to soften everything around the work the heart is doing. She does not push; she softens what is already there.

Skullcap

Skullcap is a small wetland herb of the North American mint family, with delicate blue helmet-shaped flowers along the stem (the cap that gave her her name). She is one of the great Western nervines, traditionally reached for when the nervous system has been carrying something for a long time: the chronic stress, the prolonged emotional weight, the kind of strain that does not lift in a night's sleep. She is restorative more than sedating. In this formula she is the slow undercurrent, the trophorestorative for the body that has been doing the long work of grief. She does not make the grief smaller; she makes the body that is holding it more able to keep holding it.

The Ritual

Practices that support the plants

Honor yourself

The Altar of Loss

Build a small altar to what was lost. A photograph, an object, a flower from a tree she walked under. Light a candle when the heaviness arrives. The altar gives the grief a physical place to live so the body does not have to be the only place that holds it.

Return to the body

Cross the heart

Try the Butterfly Hug, a bilateral self-tapping practice developed by Lucina Artigas in Mexico in 1997 and now used in EMDR therapy for the nervous system's processing of grief and shock. Cross your arms over your chest, fingertips resting on the opposite shoulders, and tap slow and steady, left then right, for a minute or two. The alternating rhythm gives the body a way to metabolize what the mind cannot.

Rememberr the earth

Grief Tending at Water

Going to any body of moving watersuch as a river, stream, ocean edge, even a vigorous garden tap and speak your grief aloud to it. In the Dagara tradition, water is understood as the element of grief: speaking sorrow at the water's edge is a return of grief to its natural home. Complete the practice with a small offering, a flower held briefly and released into the current, a handful of earth pressed to the bank. The water is the witness and the carrier.

Jasmine's Note

My grandmother didn't call it herbalism. She just knew things — which plants to reach for, which roots to dry, what the earth offered when the body asked. She learned it from her father, who kept a garden in Biloxi and understood plants the way some people understand people. That knowledge passed to her, and quietly, to me.

I didn't fully understand what I'd inherited until my own body started asking questions that medicine couldn't answer. Hormonal chaos, long seasons of depression, the particular exhaustion of feeling disconnected from yourself. I remembered the whisperings. I turned back toward the plants. Everything in this apothecary came from that turning — things I made for myself first, and then for the women in my life who needed the same. I offer them to you the way my grandmother offered what she knew: as a hand extended, as something real.

-Jasmine

Rooted in Lineage. Made with Reverence.

Every formula in this apothecary is made in small batches in Los Angeles, using herbs that are organically grown or seasonally wildcrafted whenever possible. We work with plants at the peak of their potency — harvested in the right season, prepared slowly, and handled with the same reverence we hope you bring to using them.

This is medicine in the oldest sense of the word: plant wisdom, carefully tended, passed forward with care.

Frequently Asked Questions

A Note on Plant Medicine

Plants are powerful — and like any potent thing, they deserve to be used with care and knowledge. These formulas are crafted with intention, but they are not a substitute for medical guidance. Before beginning a new herbal practice, we encourage you to speak with your healthcare provider, especially if you are pregnant, nursing, trying to conceive, managing a health condition, or taking prescription medication. Wild Woman products are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.