Weeds and Worries

I think I may have developed tennis elbow from weeding last weekend. Maybe I should call it weeding elbow? All I know is that I spent a solid six hours hacking away at buttercups and ivy, burdock and dead nettle, and now my arms are in serious pain. It was worth it, of course. All of our perennial beds are pretty neglected during the rainy winter months, but the weeds are never deterred from their endless quest for dominance.

It’s a funny dance we do, isn’t it? You always hear that a weed is just a wildflower in the wrong place, but as someone who has a certifiable mint infestation, sometimes it’s an intentionally planted herb that got out of control. What turns a plant into a weed isn’t only that it’s in the wrong place—it’s that the weed in question feels entitled to the whole dang garden.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about how the entire world seems entitled to the whole dang garden. We can’t just be up on the news; we need to be devoting our lives to advocacy. We can’t just be committed to our jobs; we need to be productive machines who are never out of reach. We can’t just be devoted parents; we must shape every moment of our children’s lives. If we don’t? Well, whatever negative outcomes that come our way are one hundred percent our faults. After all, we didn’t do enough to stop them.

This feels like an anxiety response to me. The world is changing in huge, amorphous, unpredictable ways. We want to believe that if we work harder, pay more attention, and never let down our guard—well, then we can make sure that nothing bad ever happens to us or the people we love. And if it does, well, at least we’re immune from criticism if it does.

Let me tell you, as someone who was so on top of my children’s health that I caught a deadly chronic illness before it caused significant damage, not once, but twice—there is no amount of care that will keep bad things from your door. And a lot of people criticized us, none of whom knew what they were talking about.

I’ve watched a lot of Type 1 families crumble under that anxiety response. If I’m always vigilant, never do a single thing wrong, allow the weeds of worry take over the whole garden, then, and only then, can I keep my kid safe. The problem is that, at the end of it, I don’t have a garden any more. I spent so much time letting the mint take over that I forgot to plant the seeds of what I really wanted.

It’s only when I stop paying attention to those fears that I can chart a course to a future that is worth having. The fears will always be with us. So will troubles and hardships. But if we’re nurturing the seeds of resilience and courage, prudence and compassion…well, then our garden can contain more than just whatever feels entitled to claim it.