plants

Gardening Your Mind: Tips for Emotional Well-Being

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Have you ever noticed that the worse your mind makes you feel the worse your body feels, too?

I’ve been fighting a bout of depression for the last few months. Still managed to go to work and take care of myself, but just didn’t really care about anything or anyone. Nothing felt good. Didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. And the longer I stayed down, the worse I felt physically. Like I’d used up all my money and there was nothing left to pay for anything at all. I finally started to feel better, and wouldn’t you know it, I became physically too ill to work. It was a drag, like an albatross around my neck to finally be in a better place mentally, but have my body say “Oh no you don’t!”

But, I did get over it (mostly). I went from feeling trapped in a cage made of my sick body to being able to venture out and get things done. I still have a symptom. A weird one. My mouth hurts. No sores. No cavities. No burns. It just hurts all the time. So, I’ve come to believe my psychatrist is right. My mental state is affecting my body. I am still concerned about things. Can we afford groceries this week? Will we pay all the utilities? What else can people do to ruin this country and make it harder to live in?

So, I’ve decided it’s time to let it go. Picture blowing the seeds from a dandelion. Each seed under its fluffy parachute a care that I cannot do a thing about. Money problems? Puff — there go several seeds. The puff is accepting that no one is hiring an over educated, too old, fat, and mentally ill woman, so all I can do is do the best I can to pay things. Let the rest go on the wind with the seeds. I can’t control what others do. Some will always use others to make themselves richer, without regard to the others they are hurting. Some will be bullies that no one can stand up to. Some will take away things other than money to make themselves more important and powerful. Blow! Blow! Blow! There go the bullies and greedy people. I can’t change them. I shouldn’t let them take up room in my mind like dandelions taking over my garden. The things in my garden, I can affect. I can pull up the weeds in my space. I can address a bully in front of me. I can be more frugal and stretch my money farther. I can blow harder and the dandelion seeds will go farther away, to where they cannot grow in my garden. Blow your seeds away. Letting them go will help your garden flourish. You’ll be happier and healthier. Remember radical acceptance and circle of control. Those are how you blow the weeds away from your garden. Those tools will help you thrive in your own, personal garden, decorated with flowers and herbs of your choice, not someone else’s.

On the verge

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Spring is progressing with fits and starts. One day it is so hot we need air conditioning, then the next we need a light jacket. The trees are nearly completely leafed out. I have roses, clematis, and irises blooming. Birds are singing for territory all day long. And here I am, stuck at work and in life.

I have been allowing myself to fall to the wayside. I’ve not been walking my laps, exercising, or eating healthy. I still can’t seem to sleep at night. I’ve spent my time lying in bed worrying about everything and everyone else. Trying to figure out how to fix problems for everyone else; ignoring my own. I have no energy or drive lately.

All I’ve wanting to do is hide on my bed, in the dark, and wish the world would pass me by. Now granted, I am a champion introvert. Taking a position as ahermit in a deep, dark forest and living as the old witch of the woods has a definite attraction. I’d have a cottage made of stone, surrounded by a cottage garden of flowers, herbs, vegetables, and fruits. A little mountain brook giggling along side the cottage, in a clearing surrounded by the protection of the huge old oaks. Squirrels playing tag. Rabbits and deer peeking out from among the trees. Butterflies and bees visiting the flowers. Bats swooping by as the owl hoots at night, under glistening stars and silvery moon. My cat and dog would be my only roommates. I’d have tons of books and yarn and embroidery materials. I would have music playing all the time. No one to argue with or try to please. Splendid solitude. I’d only venture out once a month or so for supplies. Alas, that is never to be.

So, what do I do with my life as it is? How do I find the peace and contentment I am so sorely lacking these days?

I think I have to begin by shifting my focus. I can’t keep putting myself under pressure to fix things for other people. They are adults. They should take care of themselves. I can’t, and shouldn’t, do it for them. Accept things as they are. Let go of my expectations and goals for these other people. I have no more right to control them than they have to control me. I can be there for them. Listen. Encourage. Assist within reason. Not tell them how to fix everything and try to do it for them.

I also need to stop worrying about letting everyone else down through my actions and existence. If I am to find serenity, I have to look within, not without. Accept that I have a nice life. I’ll never be important to the world. I’ll not leave much of an impact when I go. I don’t have children to leave a legacy. I’m like the vast majority of people. I’ve been good to some people, but not so many that I’ll leave a void when I’m gone. They will move on. They will find someone else to process the data, explain the rules, craft them gifts, bake them goodies, and care about them. I’m not rich. I never will be. In this world, only the rich seem to really matter. People care more about what the rich are doing than being a good friend or loving family member.

I need to approach my life like a rose. There are millions of roses. They are all special and unique in their own way. They have different colors, shapes, scents, sizes. Each one is special to the bees that visit it; the people that see/smell it. They bloom their best when it is their time, not before or after. They don’t try to hurry or hesitate to bloom. They do it when they are ready. Each rose has purpose. Each rose exists as itself, whole, complete, and perfect in its imperfections. Each rose is important, even as there are so many of them that it seems no single rose matters. It matters to the ones who experience it, but they replace it with the next year’s rose. Such is the way of life.

I am good at helping the people I actually encounter at work. I help them succeed in their lives. My friends and family love the things I make for them. I try to remember to smile at everyone I pass. I am smart and good at explaining things to people, helping them do their jobs and learn in classes. I have come a long way. I am past the bloom of youth, but I’m not a ripe rose hip, yet. I am me. And I am good at it.