If I’m not at the beach, I’m spending time in my soul garden, enjoying the peace and quiet the suburbs has to offer between nine to five when most hard-working folk are gainfully employed elsewhere. After clearing a patch of weeds and planting some colourful flowers I’ll sit back in my garden swing with a fresh cup of percolated coffee and peacefully rock backwards and forwards in the gentle breeze. This is my time. My time with no husband and kids. This is my special quiet time where I get to sit for ages and think of nothing.
But for the past week I have been very excited. Perhaps more excited than I should be. For once my fantasies have not centred around George Clooney or winning the lottery, instead its been focused on buying a decorative wooden wheelbarrow and using it as a central feature for my newly created soul garden. My passion and eagerness stem from the fact that my garden was once an unruly mess and resembled my chaotic, unmanageable and directionless mind.
Both were cluttered, full of weeds, rubbish, overgrown bushes and sad neglected trees with long thin branches, and to be honest it was far too overwhelming and very frightening for someone suffering the throes of depression and anxiety. It was easier to close the curtains, take my medication and make yet another appointment with my therapist than it was to contemplate tackling the huge task of getting it all back together into some semblance of order.
One day, after discovering I was vitamin D deficient, I went out and spent ten minutes pulling weeds from a sorely neglected rose garden. I felt the warmth of the sun on my back, heard the birds singing in the trees and it was there that I had a quiet epiphany.
Now that there was a clear spot in my garden, and my head, I could think properly. I developed a plan and a goal and slowly as my garden started to take shape and form so did my thought processes become clearer, more cohesive and increasingly coherent. I started to think less about personal issues, …