Gardening At Night Part 1

I wrote a little bit about my 2nd deep sea plunge into major depression a while ago when I was still navigating the waters. I’m so happy to at least have my head above sea level at this point; not sure I will ever feel completely dry but at least I can breathe now that I’m no longer pinned beneath the waves. Medication, treatment, stress reduction, reconnecting with a support system of loving friends/family, and maintaining this safe little space here with you have really made a big difference.

But there’s more to it than that and it all  starts with this guy:

MrE

Hubby or Hub-a-dub-dub or Hub-a-saurus Rex; pretty sure I’m the only one who can get away with these variations so please resist the urge. Anyway, this guy said to me one day in February last year that an eye-sore-triangular-shaped-neighborhood-kitty-litterbox-patch-of-dirt in our backyard would make the perfect spot for a pond. I laughed, maybe even snorted a bit before telling him he was crazy. I called him crazy. That’s funny to me now because in the rearview I can see that I was the one going crazy. Giving up on food entirely, staying in bed all day, bursting into tears when interrogated at the grocery store, “paper or plastic?” Are you kidding me? Do I look like I’m in any condition to answer that kind of question right now? Hubby didn’t let my lack of enthusiasm muddy his vision. Maybe because he needed a distraction, or maybe he knew I needed the distraction. Either way he went ahead without me:

pond1

For awhile it looked like a meteor smashed into what was once our unintentional public potty for the feline persuasion. And not too long after the fictional meteor touched down this appeared:

pond2

A pond liner.

Still unconvinced I just shook my head and thought, “it’s hopeless, nothing’s gonna grow in that yucky sandy soil.” The project stalled. A couple months later my symptoms advanced into acute territory. I was fatigued by my own desperate thoughts of escape and began groping for the nearest exit. Fortunately hubby looked me in the eyes and told me with great concern what he was going to do if I couldn’t do it for myself. I won’t rehash that entire plate of tamales here but if you missed it and want to follow along help yourself to Rogue Waves then continue on to Caution: Instability Ahead.

“What’s all this have to do with gardening?” you say.

Everything dear reader. Stick with me, I’ll circle back around and pick you up. Look for part 2 tomorrow.

 

 

 

  One thought on “Gardening At Night Part 1

  1. April 14, 2014 at 8:32 am

    The only word that comes to mind for me is, relief.

    Like

    • April 14, 2014 at 9:10 am

      I know you understand all this Dora. Thanks for reading!

      Like

  2. April 14, 2014 at 9:18 am

    Oh, Sandra, I am so glad that hubby knew just the right things to help even when you didn’t. That’s love, friend, deeper than any waves of depression that were rolling over your head.

    The backyard pond converted from a litter mound.

    Genius at work, there.

    I can’t wait to read the subsequent chapters.

    Like

  3. April 14, 2014 at 9:33 am

    Thanks Mark! I’m so thankful that Erik was able to see what I could not. You’re so right, that is real love. 🙂

    Like

  4. April 14, 2014 at 11:11 am

    Sometimes the ones who know us best find solutions that we say are crazy. Then the solutions go ahead and work! I’m glad your Hub-a-saurus (!!!) knew what to do.

    Like

  5. April 14, 2014 at 2:17 pm

    Lovely pictures! All of them! 😀

    Like

  6. April 14, 2014 at 3:24 pm

    I’m so glad your head is above water now; how can I hear you singing tunes with me if you’re drowning? Big hug to you.

    Like

    • April 14, 2014 at 6:49 pm

      Kerbey, you had me at old Bertie Higgins, “Starring in our old late, late show.” Hug to you kindred pal.

      Like

  7. April 20, 2014 at 4:42 pm

    Ay Sandrita–siento que te conozco aunque no en persona. I love your blog! I know it’s hard to put that raw stuff out there but you do it well. I love how you worked tamales into the segment. 🙂

    Like

    • April 20, 2014 at 7:08 pm

      Estelita amiga mia. Siento el mismo. My Spanish is terrible though. Just like you, my parents didn’t share their 1st language with me. I do feel like I know you too though. I love your blog! You have given me the courage to share a little of the bitter along with the sweet. Xoxo

      Like

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