Pulling Weeds, Processing Emotions

This week, Tye helped me out a ton in the garden.

If you’ve been following along with Vitality Vignette and my garden updates, you know that after weeks of rain, the weeds exploded. And before I could even begin to keep up, it felt like they had completely taken over.

With my personality, I tend to shut down when I’m overwhelmed. Or in the case of the weeds? I avoid it altogether.

But I knew it had to be done. And sometimes, when I need a break from staring at my screen, I head outside with the dogs and pull a few weeds for fun. It’s oddly satisfying, you know?

One afternoon, I realized I’d gotten a few rows done without even thinking about it. I had heard you could lay cardboard down and cover it with mulch to help prevent weeds from growing back, so naturally, I immediately started asking Tye to mow and bag the grass for me so I could mulch around the plants.

Pretty soon, half the garden was weeded, cardboard was down, and the plants were tucked into their cozy mulch beds. It felt so satisfying.

But... the other half of the garden still loomed. Weeds growing taller. The overwhelm growing with them.

So I asked Tye for help.

We got to work together that night, digging in and pulling weed after weed. And throughout the evening, I made a variety of statements:

“This is taking forever.”
“This isn’t so bad.”
“There’s so much—I don’t know how we’re going to finish this tonight.”
“Hey! That actually went quicker than I thought.”

To that last one, Tye replied:

“You need to think of this garden like your brain.”

And I knew exactly what he meant.

🌿 The Weeds We Can’t Always See

As I navigate healing, some days feel impossibly heavy—like I’ll never feel like myself again. Other days, I forget what it felt like to feel low at all. Lately, with the support of my therapist, I’m learning that healing doesn’t mean pushing or perfecting. It’s not about constantly doing more. Sometimes, the deepest healing comes from creating space—and letting the body do the rest.

Kind of like pulling weeds.

When I stepped back from the garden that day, I didn’t think we’d made that much progress. But looking at it with fresh eyes, we’d cleared a huge chunk. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t finished. But it was so much better than it had been—and more importantly, we’d laid a foundation (hello, cardboard mulch barrier) to help make things easier moving forward.

That, to me, felt like progress.

🧠 Healing Is Hard to Measure

I loved that Tye made that comment. Because mental and emotional healing often feel invisible. Unlike physical progress, it doesn’t always come with before-and-after photos, metrics, or tidy timelines.

As a dietitian, I’m constantly guiding my clients to track more than just the scale—energy, sleep, mood, skin, hunger cues. I remind them that progress is about so much more than numbers.

But when it comes to mental health, it often feels like wading through darkness, reaching blindly for something solid.

So yes, maybe weeding the garden looks like small, slow, messy steps. But over time—with consistency, curiosity, and space to rest—what once felt overwhelming becomes manageable. The soil softens. The flowers bloom.

And just like that, the garden begins to flourish.

🌼 If this resonated...
I share reflections like this each week in my Vitality Vignette newsletter—along with garden updates, seasonal nourishment tips, and gentle reminders to slow down and tend to your body with intention.

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