Re-Post: Do You Suffer From G-SAD?

This post first appeared nearly a year ago, and since I am somewhere on a highway on my way to a vacation and faraway from any Internet service , I thought it was quite appropriate to revisit the anxiety that I feel when I have to leave my garden in someone else’s hands.  For longtime readers, I apologize for this repeat broadcast; for new readers, I hope you enjoy.

I have done what every therapist and doctor advises people not to do. I have self-diagnosed, but let me first explain.

It’s summertime, and Joe and I are going on vacation for a few days. It’s a chance to relax, to get away from everything, to reconnect, to breathe. In actuality, though, the days leading up to departure mean a growing sense of unease and worry. I become consumed with obsessive thoughts, anxiety, and stress — and none of it comes from the what-to-pack, what-not-to-pack scenario, nor from the airport pat-down, nor from who will mind the dog and the cat, nor from the last-second question, “Did I remember to take my trusted Swiss army knife out of my carry-on?” No. For me, the physical-emotional symptoms stem from leaving my garden and entrusting its care to someone other than myself. I am now calling these symptoms Garden Separation Anxiety Disorder, also known as G-SAD, as in, “Gee, That’s sad.”

Terracotta Love: Now That’s Amore!

I’m in love with a terracotta pot.  I’m not sure if that’s even possible, but the truth is there is one pot in my collection of which I’m especially fond – and each spring when I remove it from its winter storage, it’s like reuniting with a long lost love.  I know its curves and warm tones and textures.  I accept all of it, even the irregular sizes of its pockets.  Yes, the terracotta pot of my dreams is the three-foot tall strawberry pot.  And today is the day that I am going to demonstrate my love for it.  It’s planting day.

The pot holds a place of honor in the garden, nestled among ferns and hostas and bleeding hearts.  It’s tall enough that it provides not only a focal point, but some vertical color in an area of the garden that is heavy with foliage.

Do You Suffer From G-SAD?

I have done what every therapist and doctor advises people not to do.  I have self-diagnosed, but let me first explain.

It’s summertime, and Joe and I are going on vacation for a few days.  It’s a chance to relax, to get away from everything, to reconnect, to breathe.  In actuality, though, the days leading up to departure mean a growing sense of unease and worry.  I become consumed with obsessive thoughts, anxiety, and stress — and none of it comes from the what-to-pack, what-not-to-pack scenario, nor from the airport pat-down, nor from who will mind the dog and the cat, nor from the last-second question, “Did I remember to take my trusted Swiss army knife out of my carry-on?”  No.  For me, the physical-emotional symptoms stem from leaving my garden and entrusting its care to someone other than myself.  I am now calling these symptoms Garden Separation Anxiety Disorder, also known as G-SAD, as in, “Gee, that’s sad.”