So I’m sitting here now wondering why, exactly, I have started this blog. I think it’s mainly for myself, so please forgive me if you have stumbled across this accidentally.
Gardening is my favourite hobby. Anxiety is my most usual state of mind. From waking in the morning to going to sleep at night I can generally find something to worry myself about; there are good days and bad days, on good days my anxiety drives me and helps me achieve things, on days like, well, today, I want to sit and cry all day. One of the main reasons I don’t cry as much as I feel I could is my garden – it is a distraction technique, and just when I feel myself tipping over into that little black pit I stand in front of myself and say “so anyway, what should we plant in that far corner next Spring, it can’t stay like that, can it? so, what do you fancy doing….?”. And more often than not, I answer myself.
So that’s what I want to write about. Gardening is therapy for me – I don’t have a big garden, which is probably good because neither do I have much of an attention span. In my garden I can leave a job half done and not beat myself up about it. I can spend all morning playing with one unimportant detail and happily not notice the weeds filling the lawn. I can ignore it for a couple of weeks when I don’t feel able to do anything for it, then blissfully throw myself into it for a day and emerge mud-splattered, dishevelled, with torn nails and a stupid grin on my face, knowing that I have once more managed to save the world from near destruction. Or something equally important.
So if anyone is out there, bear with me. I may be back, I may not.