Finding Joy in the Weeds

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1774

Abstract

went for longer than I’d like to admit grieving a past relationship. I thought the grief would never end. It didn’t matter how much I tried to let go and move on. My heart kept holding on. It was frustrating, to say the least. I couldn’t make myself heal. The wound just kept reopening.</p><h2 id="3f7c">But one day, I woke up, and the pain wasn’t there.</h2><p id="25ca">I could smile when I remembered that relationship. The grief was gone, and it didn’t leave with a lot of fanfare. It might have even been gone for a while, and I was too busy living my life to notice. I had spent all that time thinking I wasn’t really getting better when it just took longer than expected to heal.</p><p id="b27a">Waking up to find the grief was gone was like seeing the clover springing up in my yard. It was an unexpected joy and relief. It was a reminder that life will continue to surprise us if we let it — often when we least expect it and, sometimes, when we’ve given up entirely.</p><h2 id="3baf">I’m finding joy in the weeds.</h2><p id="8e22">In what’s been a difficult year, I keep experiencing these flashes of gratitude for the smallest things. Instead of stepping on triggers, I’m catching glimpses of glimmers. I find reminders to keep going. A wildflower will bloom. Progress, happening below the surface, suddenly makes itself known.</p><p id="497f">When it seems like nothing is going my way, I look around for small signs of growth. I decide to believe they are there even when I can’t see them. I keep going even when it’s hard. I trust the process. When joy arrives, I allow myself to revel in it.</p><div id="9623" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/5-things-to-do-this-winter-when-planning-a-garden-for-spring-93033e80a208">

Options

<div> <div> <h2>5 Things to Do This Winter When Planning a Garden for Spring</h2> <div><h3>The work begins now</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*FbhMJA6cFFuAAzd8)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="8387" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/on-the-days-when-the-world-is-too-much-i-am-finally-enough-3a3a9e77eb92"> <div> <div> <h2>On the Days When the World Is Too Much, I Am Finally Enough</h2> <div><h3>To every soul struggling right now, consider this your reminder</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*pJ5_-m5t52eWFz1K)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="b6c0" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/11-common-relationship-behaviors-that-qualify-as-emotional-abuse-40ab5d164515"> <div> <div> <h2>11 Common Relationship Behaviors That Qualify as Emotional Abuse</h2> <div><h3>And what you can do if you’re being emotionally abused</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*N5i6fKUYVi_bjWxS)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Necessary Reminder About the Healing Journey

Sometimes, the oddest things bring me joy. I was working in my garden one day when I noticed a glimpse of green in the grey winter palette. I stooped down to take a closer look and noticed that clover was springing up in my yard. For many people, it’s just a weed. But I spread clover seed a year ago in my garden and never saw a hint of it.

I’m not a fan of lawns, as an overall rule. I’d much rather have a garden with vegetables, fruit, and flowers. The plan was to spread clover to take the place of grass and reduce my lawn care while encouraging more pollinators on my property.

I spread the seeds and waited.

I spread them, and nothing grew. It was discouraging. But a year later, I can see them coming up. In fact, a few days after that, I walked outside to spy the purple blooms all over the place. I thought that the seeds I planted didn’t grow, but the truth is that they just hadn’t grown yet.

If that’s not a metaphor for healing, I don’t know what is.

Healing doesn’t always happen on our preferred timeline.

It can take time. We might not see the progress happening, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t. Healing is a process, and we don’t all heal the same.

In fact, I went for longer than I’d like to admit grieving a past relationship. I thought the grief would never end. It didn’t matter how much I tried to let go and move on. My heart kept holding on. It was frustrating, to say the least. I couldn’t make myself heal. The wound just kept reopening.

But one day, I woke up, and the pain wasn’t there.

I could smile when I remembered that relationship. The grief was gone, and it didn’t leave with a lot of fanfare. It might have even been gone for a while, and I was too busy living my life to notice. I had spent all that time thinking I wasn’t really getting better when it just took longer than expected to heal.

Waking up to find the grief was gone was like seeing the clover springing up in my yard. It was an unexpected joy and relief. It was a reminder that life will continue to surprise us if we let it — often when we least expect it and, sometimes, when we’ve given up entirely.

I’m finding joy in the weeds.

In what’s been a difficult year, I keep experiencing these flashes of gratitude for the smallest things. Instead of stepping on triggers, I’m catching glimpses of glimmers. I find reminders to keep going. A wildflower will bloom. Progress, happening below the surface, suddenly makes itself known.

When it seems like nothing is going my way, I look around for small signs of growth. I decide to believe they are there even when I can’t see them. I keep going even when it’s hard. I trust the process. When joy arrives, I allow myself to revel in it.