Twin Invasive Vines

Much of our property is rather wild and unwanted plants routinely encroach on the cleared yard. Years ago, Chris built a stone wall to define the perimeter of the backyard. With help, I later installed a makeshift fence to allow the dog a space to safely run and play. The yard itself needs serious rehabilitation - the grass is thin and of poor quality, weeds easily take over, and there are large patches of dirt in the dog run. Still, we love the yard and use it hard. The area beyond the barrier is woodsy and fully controlled by invasive plants: poison ivy, poison oak, thorny bushes, and woody vines that climb up trees. In the spring, as the earth warms and plants wake up, these nuisances are first to grow and hardest to remove. They thrive on the metal mesh fence and eagerly reach over to poke us.

I started clearing behind the fence early this spring to get ahead, but it is a tough battle. No matter how many vines and stalks I clip back, there seem to be just as many a few days later. If I let my guard down, pesky, sharp thorns dig in wherever they can get a hold. My approach this year is slow and steady, a few hours of work each weekend. As I carry out this work alone, nagging lines of thought bubble below my consciousness. I notice two themes, like twin invasive plants threatening to choke off healthy processing and growth. If I allow them to run rampant like the thorny vines, they can ruin an hour, a whole day, much of a week, or more.

…

The Poisonous Vine of the Past

I didn’t know what to do.

How was I supposed to know what to do?

It was unbelievable and terrifying; there was no script.

Why didn’t I ask more questions?

I didn’t even know what to ask.

Why didn’t I hire more help?

I didn’t know what was needed or available or how to get it anyway.

Why wasn’t I more loving?

I was horrified, scared, in disbelief, stressed, paralyzed.

Why did I leave?

I should have been there for that whole day, laid down in that hospital bed for every possible moment.

How was I supposed to know the end was imminent?

I should have known; it seems so obvious now.

 

…Wrapped Around Healthy Wood of the Past

What was I supposed to do, anyway, about any of it?

Nobody can know what to do in these situations. There is no map. You do the best you can.

I did the best I can.  

 

AND

 

The Invasive Weed of the Present

I don’t know what to do with my life.

How can I move forward in a meaningful way?

I don’t know how to take care of our house.

How do people know what needs to be maintained?

I don’t know what will make this okay for our children.

Are they okay? Will they be okay?

I don’t know how to redeem our story.

What possible good could come out of what happened?

I don’t know how to be unworried.

What am I not preventing that will go wrong next?

I don’t know how to be happy.

How can I ever feel joy again?

I do not have any idea what to do.

 

…Threatens New Growth

What am I supposed to do now?

Nobody can possibly know what to do in these situations.

You chart your own path. You do the best you can.

I am doing the best I can.  

I will keep going.

…

 

Just as I do in my yard, I will be vigilant about the intrusive thoughts. I’ll carefully cut away those thorny plants to avoid piercing my skin. Once severed from the root, I will let the weeds wither where they were once gaining strength. Later, I will gingerly pull the dead unwanted vines away from the healthy supports. They will grow back, sometimes even with a vengeance, but I’ll remove them again as needed. The growth beyond the fence will become junglelike as summer sets in, but I won’t let the poisonous stuff gain a foothold in the yard, my imperfect oasis.

The lesson I am learning is this - peace and healthy growth do not naturally prevail. They must be cultivated and consistently tended. The work feels endless. It is difficult and painful, and I often don’t feel like doing it. When I let up and allow the poisonous stuff to grow out of control, it creates a thorny minefield that is even harder to clear out. I am recognizing that it is my most important job to tend to my pain, to grapple with the thorns, to be as gentle with and encouraging of myself as I would with a friend. I am trying to do this work.

I am doing the best I can.