Cars are built with a certain cold efficiency. It has parts that work until they don’t, and when they don’t, you go to a mechanic, pull out the faulty piece, and install a new one. But people – at least, people like me – aren’t built that way. I’m not broken, I’m more like a plant: I can’t swap out my leaves or roots when they’re a bit tired, and I need more than a quick tune-up to thrive. I need the right light, the right water, and the right season, the right amount of care.
If something is wrong with a car, it’s usually obvious. I’m not a machine – I don’t just ‘run’ on food, water, or even sleep. I need more intangible nutrients, things like love, connection, purpose, and growth. When my ‘nutrients’ are out of balance – too much stress, not enough support – I don’t just stop working for a moment; I start to wither. I need rest, space, and care to bounce back.
And then there’s the matter of seasons. As a human, I go through seasons – times when I feel energised and productive, and other times when I feel quiet, reflective, or even downright dormant. Like a plant in winter, I sometimes need to retreat, to preserve my energy, and to let go of the leaves that aren’t serving me. These seasons aren’t a sign of failure; they’re a natural part of how I grow and adapt.
Cars can keep going with a quick fix here and there, but when I need healing, it’s not as simple as swapping out a part. My mind and heart don’t come with spare parts. I can’t just replace a painful memory or stressful experience. I need time and nurturing to work through it, to heal from it. Therapy, rest, supportive relationships – these are my sunlight and water, helping me recover and grow stronger. Just as a plant won’t flourish if you try to prune it too aggressively or water it sporadically, I need consistent and thoughtful care. My progress might be slow, but it’s real. Healing for me isn’t about replacement; it’s about regrowth.
When a car breaks down, you call a mechanic. When I hit a low point, I might seek help too, but it’s a very different kind of support. Rather than fixing something broken, my support system helps me adapt, accept, and find new ways to grow. People don’t come with instructions, and there’s no magic part to fix every problem. But just as a plant finds new ways to thrive when it’s well-cared for, I find strength through nurturing my inner environment.
Ultimately, being a plant means I’m alive in a way that’s dynamic, vulnerable, and deeply connected to the environment around me. I can’t control every external factor, but I can take in what I need to grow. I have an inner resilience that can’t be swapped out, only nurtured and encouraged. I know I’ll always find a way to thrive.
-Donna
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