I’m having a bad pain flare this week, and it was (mostly) worth it

It feels like summer has finally arrived here in Northern BC. This last week was one of sunshine, heat, and, unfortunately, mosquitos. Because of the late start to summer, my garden has had a rough start. Cold temperatures kept my seeds from sprouting, followed by lots of rain that washed most of the tiny seeds away.

Since I’m in limbo awaiting financial assistance while off work, I couldn’t justify going out to spend money on more robust seedlings from the garden store. The thought of not being able to play in the garden this summer was a hard one for me to accept. Thankfully, I surround myself with incredible people. Friends and neighbours generously hooked me up with their extra seedlings to help me bring my garden back to life. 

My happy place

My garden is my happy place. It’s where I go to care for something other than myself. I find that I’m filled with joy after doing my rounds and discovering I forgot, yet again, to put my gardening gloves on and now have dirt wedged under my fingernails. 

I got so giddy this weekend while Josh was helping me to set up my garden shed. He cut and installed shelves and a teeny workbench for me to putter around with soil and seeds. Now I stand in the doorway of my newly organised shed and imagine the possibilities: another shelf there, perhaps some hangers down below for the hoses in the fall, ooooh! I can use those mushroom knobs as hooks for my jean dress coveralls!

While the weather was so nice, I found myself puttering around in the garden most days this past week; planting my donated seedlings, cleaning up pots from the fall, or simply cooing at my plants. I knew that pain could follow the pleasure of being in the garden, but I also knew that it would be worth it.

Is the cost worth the gains?

When dealing with pain on a daily basis, I often have to make that call. Will the pain of this activity be worth the gains? I think of it as a cost/benefit analysis. Something more common in the business world, but equally as applicable for pain management.

In the case of gardening, the benefit of being outside in the warm sun, feeling fresh soil on my palms, watching my efforts literally bear fruit, is worth the cost of the pain that follows. Gardening brings me mental comfort, even though it’s sometimes physically hard to do.

Doing the cost/benefit analysis has become an important practice to help me assess what activities are worth my limited energy supply. I’m realising more and more that my time and energy are precious commodities, and I no longer want to spend them without intention. I’ve also become aware, with the help of my counsellor, that I’ve been putting my pleasure aside for far too long. 

Temporary relief

The joy that fills me up from spending time doing things that I love is a type of therapy. It gives me temporary relief from the anxiety and fear that dominate my mind. One of my favourite things to do in the garden is to simply walk around and look for change. Every day, without fail, I see something new or different: a new bud, leaf, or sprout, a dying plant or limb, a blooming flower. It helps to remind me that nothing is permanent, not even the pain.

Though I can’t always predict when a pain flare-up will happen, especially since my primary trigger is stress, I know now that I don’t have to sacrifice pleasure to avoid pain. I can do both: enjoy the pleasure of my garden and know that even if the pain follows, it was (mostly) worth it.