Pull those weeds!

Garden Weeds

The floatiness came upon me when I woke up this morning, and it would not leave. It stayed like an unwanted guest. All day I felt like I was walking in swaths of cotton. I texted my friend Jack, and he had an idea, or at least I thought he had an idea:

Jack: Come over and weed my garden. It’s therapeutic πŸ™‚

Me: Ok. I’ll come over after dinner around 7.

Jack: Seriously? I was kidding, but you’re welcome to weed if you like.

I had not weeded a garden for decades. My grandmother’s garden was the last garden I ever worked in, and “worked in” is putting it loosely. I puttered in there, and she worked.

As soon as I arrived, I dove right into pulling those damn weeds. The earth in my fingernails felt real and grounding. I pulled those weeds, and after a while, I was pulling my mother’s hate, her wrath, self-loathing, and rage. I pulled as if I was pulling those demons out. I would still be out there pulling, but night fell, mosquitoes came, and my body hurt. I think I have dirt in my teeth, but the floatiness is gone.

(Photo credit: Auntie P)

5 thoughts on “Pull those weeds!

  1. That’s wonderful! I’m glad you took the metaphorical and focused that anger into doing something positive for someone else. It was a win-win… and not like you had to “do service, it will make you feel better” kind of b.s. people like to say to “help you recover.” I think that anger like this can be a very healthy thing! I’m glad you took the opportunity to seize the day! I’ll bet you’ll sleep good tonight! πŸ™‚

  2. Good job! One thing that helped me in my fits of rage toward my parents was bouncing a basketball real hard against the driveway or the brickwall of my house or the backboard of a basketball goal. Really worked off some steam. Made me so tired I went to bed and slept well. πŸ™‚ my boys thought their mama was crazy, but were glad I did it because it kept me off their backs. Sometimes I’d end up feeling happy at the end and have fun playing BB with my boys.

    At one time in my life I worked at a ranch. When upset or dissociating I’d go to the barn and brush the horses. For me, the strong action of my arms releases the anger and bitterness that really doesn’t belong to me.

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