My Perfectly Imperfect Garden

I just love my garden and all of its imperfections. My lop-sided topiaries cannot seem to decide whether they want to become spheres or cylinders (with flat tops and bottoms). The grass still has some bald patches. Despite my (and husband’s) diligent hours of transplanting the stray roots, the bare patches remain. They patiently wait for the nearby grass stalks to come creeping in. The gladiola blooms that looked grand a couple of days ago now rest withered on the ground – a beautiful reminder that life is short. Time need not be wasted.

Gardening Came To My Rescue

Those two weeks are finally over. Two weeks of joy-lessness, hopelessness and discouragement. After a tearful episode with mom and a lot of thinking over things, I have come to accept my condition. And acceptance, as circumstances later revealed, is the key to lightening one’s burdens. It was also a huge help that my loved ones (most especially hubby) and their closest friends were praying for me and giving support.

Which is not to say that I am actually better now. The tinnitus is still here and can be pretty loud and annoying still. Just this morning, I seem to have been awakened by its unusually high volume. But the headaches, oh… I used to have really bad headaches that go on for hours even days. I sleep on it and wake up still having it. Once, while driving home from L (3-hour drive), I just had to stop because the white flower and paracetamol were not working anymore. I had to stop the car and tried to relax, calm my nerves and collect my thoughts. It felt like had I failed to hang on the tiniest bit of self-control that was left, I would doze off on the wheel and end up, I don’t know, waking up elsewhere. I prayed hard, too and what kept me motivated was that Big Boy had to be brought to his Taekwondo classes. The headaches have markedly improved with my medication. Now I do end up with tingling sensations on my arms and legs, side effects of the drug.

Nowadays, few things give me joy and respite. Most of the calm comes from our garden. Every morning, the sight of the Gladiolas and their brightly-colored blooms tell me that life is beautiful. When I need to take my mind off my petty worries about the kids, or my SCDS, or my patients, I grab my shears and just cut the grass until my knees hurt. The weeds have become a wonderful outlet for my stress. Each bunch that I manage to successfully pull out (roots and all) gives me so much satisfaction, probably disproportionate but… hey, whatever makes one happy, right?

Strange as it may seem, my gardening has offered me insights into what has been happening to me. We always hear that God prunes us because He loves us. Now that I have my own bushes, I get it. When I look at the pretty, fresh sprouts, it is easy to just let them be. But my mind takes over and I say – “Plant, I love you but you really need to be pruned. This will make you healthier, and prettier, too. So, bear with me, okay? Soon, you will understand what I’m saying”.

And it is not just the mere act of cutting the grass or pruning or weeding that gives me joyful respite. It’s the whole experience. The clicking of my shears. The sweet smell of freshly-cut grass. The feel of the gentle breeze on my face. The warmth of the sun. The crisp feel of the carabao grass on my fingers. The feeling of one-ness with all the creepy little things that go about their business as I go about mine.

And then I find myself being embraced in a comforting feeling of immense gratitude. Gratitude for the living things and for the huge blessing of our home and garden. For years, I have lived in dormitories and my space was defined by a single lumpy bed and a closet and nothing else. I survived on fast food and queued for probably a total of a tenth of my student life (queue to the toilet, to the bathroom, to the pay phone, etc.). Look at us now. I… we have been greatly blessed. I am truly grateful.

On The brink

Living on the edge? No. These days it feels more like I’m living on the brink. On the brink of my sanity, that is.