Soil

"the upper layer of earth that may be dug or plowed and in which plants may grow" Merriam-Webster

Photo by Roman Synkevych on Unsplash

I’ve had a plan, a goal, in mind for a while. Some context; we have a beautiful backyard that I would love to sit outside in — especially on beautiful days like today — excepting the fact that I seem to attract mosquitoes and am swarmed the second I step outside. Even just running out to check the mail leaves me covered in bites. And if we leave the back door open while bringing in groceries, the mosquitoes view the open door as an invitation, as they do. So, the past few weeks I’ve been researching plants that might dissuade the pesky buggers from lingering. I’ve had the mental image of a big, potted lavender bush that lives by our back door, warding off any unwanted visitors just by being there. I even had one in my cart one week at costco; I took it for a walk around the warehouse before putting (potting?) it back to stay within budget and/or keep promises made to The Husband that day that I wouldn’t come home with a plant.

This week, I decided to go for it. I went to the local garden supply store and wandered for a time, looking at all the options, literally stopping to smell the flowers, but sadly couldn’t find any lavender. I did find, however, a few other plants mentioned in those lists — rosemary and lantana. So, into my cart and home they went. I spent some time lookng for good pots for them¹ and rehomed them into their new containers, gave them plenty of water and sat them in the sun to get acclimated. I’ve had soil under my fingernails, the smell of rosemary clinging to my clothes, and the slight abrasiveness that working with your hands brings all day; it feels so satisfying.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about soil. There’s all sorts of different soils for different jobs, each containing different compositions and ratios to provide the perfect, most balanced, level of nutrients for your plants. (I didn’t know this until I started really looking into this but it makes sense, no?) And then there are different additives you can get to supplement the soil; you can add compost, peat moss, mulch even for moisture retention. I just got the basic, nothing fancy, potting soil for my new plants and they seem to be liking it just fine.

The act of taking an empty pot, placing a plant inside, filling it with soil, giving it water, tending to it has got me thinking about my own life. What, in my life, is the pot? What is the soil? What is the sun? The water? How do I tend myself well?

I don’t know if I have an answer for those questions, dear reader. I think, in my life, I have a set of pots that I find myself planted in: my marriage, my (greater) family, my home, my community. The people in these groups, the way I spend my time, I think, is the soil, sun and water; the time spent outside, genuine quality time with others, the food I eat all comes together to provide me the nutrients (physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually) to grow.

However, and I’ll be honest with you, dear reader, I don’t think I tend myself well.

I used to pride myself at how good I am at living for others, at putting other people’s needs before my own. “I’m such a good team player” and “of course I’ll drop everything to help” mask the inability to prioritize my own well-being and time management, daily tasks and necessary sleep get pushed aside the second anyone else asks anything of me. In the workplace, I feel the need to do everything myself, even to the point of running myself into the ground, because I can not bring myself to ask for help. In friendships, I offer to come run errands, promising myself that I will do the dishes that are stacking up in the sink or take a shower or fold the laundry that’s been piled on the couch for days later tonight (I won’t). In relationship, I swallow my own emotions when I’m especially sensitive, making myself small to avoid taking up too much space in the conversation or simply being too much for the other person to handle.²

I’d love to be able to say that I’ve made a complete 180-degree change in this, that all of these examples are past tense and far behind me. The sad reality is that the tending of myself comes and goes, there are some days, weeks, months, where I’m on top of it; I eat healthy, I set boundaries, I work out, I actually drink water, not just coffee and soda. But, even as high as I go, there are (embarassingly often) devastating lows too. There are seasons of not eating enough or drinking water, days when I can’t get off my couch to go for a walk, mornings where I’m stuck in bed doom-scrolling until the early afternoon, nights where I stay out too late and don’t get near enough sleep.

We’re working on it. Tending one’s self is a constant learning curve, one I imagine I’ll be on my whole life. But, I think there’s a lesson to be learned in the potting of new plants; to be gentle, to be kind to one’s self, to be adjusting the soil as needed, and to spend the time tending well. That’s going to be my take-away for this week, dear reader.

Until next time.

What pots do you find yourself planted in? What in your life makes up the soil for you? How do you tend yourself well?

1. HomeGoods is a great place to look for pots btw, they’ve got cute (and cheap) options of varying sizes

2. This was especially true in past relationships, I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy working on this particular behavior, and am eternally thankful for The Husband’s perceptive-ness and confrontational and communicative take on life. He sees when I start to shrink and immediately starts unpacking it with me, often much to my chagrin (I’m anti-confrontational to a fault and deeply don’t want to acknowledge my feelings ever oops).