I started this past winter facing heavy truths. Something about staying inside and planning for the year felt like an awakening. I don’t get winter depression, if anything I get summer depression. In the winter I can go for a brisk walk, I can make a really good cup of tea, read a book, and feel peaceful. In the summer I just want to go to the pool but the idea of leaving my apartment makes me want to just take a nap in the air conditioning instead.

January 2026 was rough. I was seeing things for how they were and they were really ugly. There was no fixing them because they were beyond repair. Sometimes a dying nightshade plant can be revived by a good bit of water and fertilizer, but sometimes I have to rip it up out of the ground so it doesn’t get any other plants sick. I knew it deep down and I started making some rather timid moves at the urging of my therapist and some close friends. And then I got swept away by the promise of spring.

I noticed I was having recurring skin issues. My face would get really super red and I even had some acne. I don’t really wear concealer, just sunscreen and lotion and I wash my face daily. I have never really had skin issues in the past, I’ve been lucky that way. Then in February my right eye became so swollen I couldn’t see so I went to urgent care, where I was prescribed a steroid and an antibiotic. I forgot about the problems from earlier in the winter because I was really busy with work, my health, and taking care of my kid.

My mind escaped to the dream garden I have wanted to make since moving into this house but never had the time or energy to do because I was mostly caring for a small child. I started indoor seeds for the first time and started mapping out what I wanted the garden to look like. We replaced the raised bed – the old one was rotting and falling apart. What was I ready to create? Sunflower hut. Pickle box (cucumbers and dill growing together). Brandywine tomatoes with huge yellow marigolds. Corn. Peas. Zinnias. Wildflowers. Milkweed. Nasturtiums. Color, color, and more color. All this horrendous fascism makes me crave color.

I spent an entire dreamy day in late March in my backyard carefully transplanting my indoor seeds into their respective places. I put my seed packets in as well. I listened to music and I really enjoyed the perfect temperature – sunny with a light breeze. I grabbed the hose and watered my garden and imagined what it would look like in June. I knew I had a lot of work ahead of me. Gardens require a lot of attention and consistency. You can’t just put seeds in the ground and expect perfection.

One week later I was in an ambulance on the way to a hospital. I spent a week deeply missing my son, my cat, and the garden. I was still trying to make it work and keep it together. I sat alone with my thoughts, paper, and pencils and realized I lost it all. There was no going back and that garden was never mine to begin with.

Now it is untended, full of massive weeds and the tomatoes are sick. There are some beautiful, colorful flowers that seem to mock me with their adorable positivity while I am in this darkness. I occasionally stop through there to check on the sunflower hut (which is very chaotic and unmanaged), and to harvest some cucumbers which are doing really well surprisingly. I am grieving the garden I imagined and also visiting this chaos that is reality. It is exactly what I am going through personally as well. I had this idea of what my life would look like and instead it’s something very weird. I feel like I have been forced to become a divorced dad, in my own tiny apartment at a complex with a gym and a pool. A pull out couch. Kids toys, clothes, and a Pikachu toothbrush in my bathroom but most days, no kid.

What does a divorced dad like me do with all this free time? I am not into golf, or hanging out at bars, or gambling. I’m just a middle aged girl. With all this quiet I feel a lot of anxiety, sadness, and anger and I have to channel it into things that help me keep it together. Cleaning, working out, meal prepping, paying my bills, going to appointments, just boring boring boring adult shit. Sprinkled in with some thrifting, scrolling tiktok and playing Stardew Valley.

I have to stay busy with all of this until I get to finally spend time with my son and suddenly all the happy, silly noise is back and I feel like a mom with purpose again. His laugh fills my tiny apartment and my heart is peaceful. I watch him fall asleep after reading him books and everything feels like it might turn out okay after all. He wakes me up at 6am demanding to eat cereal and play on my ipad and nothing feels more normal and stable than that right now.