The garden and yard saved my life

This is a long one, but just need to say it to somewhere/somewhere outside of me.

Trigger warning: su**dal ideation

Posting this here instead of r/gardening because I just sort of feel like you guys will really get this:

Gardening, specifically native plant gardening, has been one of the absolute biggest factors in my recovery from childhood trauma, depression, PTSD, and anxiety.

This has been years in the making. Starting with some of the blackest times of my life, where I actually had started going to therapy but was still going through spouts of su**dal thinking. During this time I would have random urges to just literally be in my backyard. I didn't know what to do with myself. But it felt like an escape somehow of the walls closing in on me. A literal breath of fresh air I guess. Especially in the coldest parts of winter when no neighbors were out and only a few birds/critters. Everything was so still. I felt like there was something bigger than me. Living and breathing, but stoic and knowing.

I just looked around while I was out there. Literally would just stand there or sit there and look at like a leaf moving or something.

Things started catching my eye. Like a weird shaped rock. Or a worm. And I would just watch.

Then I started feeling a bit curious. Like what if I just uncovered the rest of this rock?

I got a miniature shovel and would go out there and dig shit up. The exertion was good for my depressive body that couldn't feel the strength to do hardly anything at all. I felt motivated to uncover more 'treasures.' I found old bricks from the early 1900's. Coal (my house is old and used to have a coal furnace). Little bits of glass that were broken in interesting ways. A cardinal feather. Trash in general that I would clean up 'to make the grass happier.'

I must've dug up about 50 rocks or bricks that winter. I just threw them around.

In the springs and summers I envied other people's gardens. But I could never see how I would ever have the energy or motivation to actually create something like that myself.

One spring, I was at a nonprofit event and some families were selling heirloom tomatoes. I bought one, full expecting to kill it. To my absolute surprise, it grew taller than me and completely FLOURISHED. I would often forget to water it. I barely did anything at all to it. But yet it grew.

This sparked my interest. It was like a lightbulb: "So, things can just thrive without sinking tons of money, research, time, and energy into it??"

I started reading about native plants and gardening. During my massive hours of doomscrolling, I would point myself towards watching/reading about native plants and gardens.

Little by little I started trying minimal effort things. Like milk jug seeding. And direct sow seeds.

Last summer, I ended up having a container garden and 6 different types of native flowers in the yard.

This year, I dug up a DIY area for a vegetable garden and lined the perimeter with rocks, bricks, and stepping stones that I had been collecting all this time.

This is such a long backstory that you probably don't even care about, but I have found myself feeling these lessons repeatedly as I spend time in my yard:

  • There is nothing to do.
    • The living earth with all its creatures naturally exists, as simply and unnoticing as breathing. Interference or not, it will still continue on somehow.
  • I can make choices and make change.
    • If I move a worm from the sidewalk to some lush soil, maybe it will live. If I throw milkweed seeds down, monarchs will hatch. (They did this year!) If I pull a suffocating weed out, another plant may live. Because of me! When I take care of things, things seem to take care of me.
  • There is no wrong way.
    • There are no mistakes. There is no messing up. Some actions lead to some things and others lead to other things. If I leave the leaves, some things may die, but some other things might thrive. I don't know until it happens. I can only make choices in this exact moment.
  • I am strong.
    • I can move that immovable and buried rock. It may take time. But I will get it eventually. I am stronger than I ever thought.
  • My gut speaks.
    • I can do nothing until a particular urge washes over me and I suddenly know that that branch should come down so the plant underneath gets a little more light. The more I listen, the more I know.
  • I have everything I need.
    • I need something to prop up this trellis, oh this stick right next to me will work perfectly! I wish I could plant a pollinator bush, oh there is a seed swap at the library! (I never need to buy anything. What a freeing feeling from this suffocating capitalism.)

Obviously I feel these lessons apply towards my daily life. I am sure I am forgetting some and I am always evolving. Some things like therapy also helped me feel more stable and free in my life, but I cannot overstate how much putzing around in my yard gave me autonomy, stillness, gratitude, confidence, trust, curiosity, peace, and safety.

What lessons are you continually learning from your garden?

EDIT:
Y'all, wow!

I honestly posted and ghosted this because I felt so VULNERABLE afterward. I thought about it many times this week, but only JUST now had the courage to come look at it again and see. I am tearing up reading everyone's replies. Thank you ALL so much for commenting your reactions, journeys, ideas, and momentos from your garden and journey. I am wishing you all the most peaceful and inspiring year ahead!!! Here's to another great garden season this spring and summer!