Sitting on my balcony, drinking coffee and enjoying the sunshine, it suddenly occurred to me how much my balcony garden is a reflection of my ADHD life.
ADHD enthusiasm
This first occurred to me when I realized that, yet again, my natural enthusiasm overwhelmed the rational part of my brain. I have over 100 – that’s 100 – basil plants on my tiny 7’ x 5′ balcony. Potted basil plants march up the emergency staircase, to my neighbor’s apartment above. I call it the “Stairway to Pesto.” What was I thinking?
I have no idea where I’m going to transplant the tiny seedlings. Once again, I followed my heart, jumped in without thinking it through, like so many other times in my life. Will my plants die? Will this be another unfinished project, another failure? I’ve learned to enjoy the good things in life in the moment, knowing all the while that many good intentions, enthusiastic beginnings, come to naught in the end.
Tenacity and determination
But my ADHD tenacity is reflected here, too. My sheer determination to garden, no matter what, is reflected. One of the nicest things my mom ever said to me was, “Once you make up your mind to do something, you do it.” I’ll always love her for that. And I’m trying to internalize it more, to recapture that feeling of success that is so elusive at times.
Making it up as you go
Last year, I had an entire yard to work with. I dug three flower beds, created a raised bed, complete with landscaping, planted grass seed to create the lush, green lawn — it was a huge palette to work with. And I’d never done any of these things before. I just went with my gut, and the results were beautiful.
Ingenuity, creativity
When my relationship with the owner of the yard was over, it looked like my gardening opportunities might be too. I moved into an apartment, where I discovered I could create gardening opportunities with
assorted pots and planters, mostly pilfered from roadside castoffs from my gardening neighbors. I love that I’ve been able to take other people’s refuse and contributions from neighbors, some of whom I’ve met, and some who remain anonymous donors, and transform them into a conglomerate representing my ADHD creativity.
Procrastination
As any gardener knows, watching plants grow can provide endless hours of enjoyment and procrastination. Like me, my plants have grown in fits and starts. With the recent deluge of rain, followed by a day and a half of sunshine, my morning glories have shot up a foot and a half. At other times, I feel like the fledgling seedlings have stalled out; I grow impatient, wondering if they’ll ever advance to maturity. How very much like my own life — work life, especially — that seems to suddenly blastoff into success, only to be followed by long periods of stagnation. Or at least what feels like stagnation.
Out of control
But I’m reminded by my balcony garden that even nature grows in fits and starts. My plants remind me that, try as I might, I can’t control everything. Input, I can have; I can water, sing to and talk to my plants, but the growing is up to them. That, and the benevolence of the sun, the rain and the Earth.
Faith in life
My connection with nature is reflected here. I talk to and caress my plants daily. While I feel impatience, my little balcony garden also reflects my faith. My faith in myself, to rise again, like the Phoenix, from the ashes (of a broken relationship, a lifelong dream of having a yard of my own to work for many years to come), and a faith that I can create beauty around me, no matter what the circumstances.
This post currently has
13 comments/trackbacks.
You can read the comments or leave your own thoughts.
From Psych Central's website:
Zoë's Pet Peeves: The Disillusioned ADHD Gardener | ADHD from A to Zoë (August 13, 2010)
From Psych Central's website:
The PERFECT ADHD Garden Plan! | ADHD from A to Zoë (March 16, 2011)
From Psych Central's website:
2011 ADHD Garden Update | ADHD from A to Zoë (September 8, 2011)
Last reviewed: 7 Sep 2011