It’s a thing that happens to me every single year – doubt. In fact, I may have even written a blog post about the same topic last year. I don’t know whether it’s my personality, or something that most people deal with, but there’s something about planting season that makes me doubt everything.
I can’t help but feel that the whole gardening process says a lot about my own expectations on a larger scale. I go into planning the garden with such high hopes and expectations. I’m easily excited because it’s a blank canvas – just a big patch of dirt that I can use to make something beautiful.
I start sowing the seeds. The excitement is still there, but I start to realize how much work everything takes. Soon, the house and sidewalk is cluttered with seed containers and seed starting bottles. It gets difficult to move in the yard without knocking something over or making a huge mess, and the frustration starts to set in.
Eventually, the weather warms up enough for me to finally plant things in the garden. That, of course, requires even more work. For a solid couple of weeks, the garden looks like a disaster. Garbage is everywhere. Empty seed packets. I can’t see beyond the mess. I’ve spent hours and hours transplanting seedlings. The seedlings are small and shocked from transplant. They look terrible, and it doesn’t feel like they’ll ever grow into something beautiful.
At the same time, I’ll plant thousands of seeds. Though there’s no reason for me to feel like the seed won’t grow. I can’t help but feel like nothing will ever grow. I feel defeated. Every single time I finish planting, I say outloud, “It’ll be a miracle if this grows.” I don’t know why I think like this.
More times than not, things grow. I wish I could start believing in the seeds and plants – they want to grow. They don’t care who planted them or even where they’ve been planted – they’re going to try their best to grow. Some days I feel like I’ll never grow. I’m terrified that I’ll never become something beautiful.