root-bound and s.a.d. in winter

(mini-post #1) it's not even that cold but i am *that sad*

Just a plant bathtub

hello, darkness, my old frenemy

The descent into winter can be tough for me. I appreciate gloominess. I relish days where I get to hide under my comforter and read with a chill in the air. I love sweaters, knitted hats, gloves, and boots. But winter in New York City is dark this time of year, and often, so, too, are my thoughts.

Before my trip and for a few weeks after returning, I’d been battling a solid uptick in seasonal affective disorder feelings since returning from the southwest where it was cold, but sunny, and I was happy and carefree. (Okay, I’m not ever totally carefree, but you get it.)

Recently, in the evenings after work, I struggle the most. My partner has been working a demanding performance schedule, so he’s usually gone from early afternoon until almost midnight. I have my (incredible) dog. But those comforts are not always enough to keep the ennui at bay.

As the sun sets and the ability to see outside my window decreases, my energy wavers. I think of the hours ahead with a dread that embarrasses me. “How am I going to get through the night? The next few hours?”

I have hobbies! I’m still trying to finish Anna Karenina! I have gifts to crochet! None of that matters in the face of the dark, empty night ahead of me. I find myself lying on the couch, willing myself to get up and eat dinner so I don’t feel horrible in the morning. Simultaneously, I hope I fall asleep and wake up when it is light outside again, dinner be damned.

Last week, after a week of noticing this feeling and trying, with various degrees of success, to handle it, I made a decision. “I will finally repot my fucking plants,” I thought.

root-bound

Repotting my plants in a New York City apartment with no outdoor access means relying on trash bags I cut open to create easy-to-clean operating areas or, as I did this day, use my bathtub as a dirt receptacle and hoping for the best.

I wouldn’t say I’m a “plant person” as, like, an identity, but I do love plants. I feel responsible for their wellbeing when they live in my apartment. (They didn’t choose this life.) I do my best to give them the sunlight they need, to prevent their falling ill, to keep them living as long as I can.

I started with my fig plant, the largest of my plants. I was prepared for many of the plants to have roots that’ve grown too big for their pots. That is what I found. Thankfully, none of them were fully root-bound (a condition where the plant’s roots bind around the dirt and themselves, hindering growth and potentially causing the plant to choke itself). I gently made space in the roots with my hands, loosening dirt and separating a few small plants whose roots locked together.

As I worked with my trowel and my dwindling bag of potting soil, sweat and dirt dotting my torso, I noticed something. The tactility of working with the plants, with gently loosening their root-bound bodies from compacted soil, felt healing.

For the first time in several days, I wasn’t treading water through the pitch black sky, praying for the sun. I focused on the smell of the soil— earthen, ripe, alive—and the dirt in the crescents of my nails. (I might’ve inhaled some soil, too. I did cough a lot, but hopefully it’s good for my gut microbiome.) I wasn’t thinking about my too-loud, too-heavy thoughts. I was being and doing and existing with these ground friends.

Taking care of these living beings is taking care of myself. Paying attention to their needs is a way of meeting my own.

It isn’t a big, grand accomplishment. It is small, meaningful only to myself and the plants (and my dog, who wanted to know why the bathtub smelled of dirt). There is darkness, but there is still lots of life to tend to.

if the darkness feels too big

I want to stress that I’m okay, and I have proper mental health support. If your feelings are starting to become overwhelming, or you feel you are having trouble this season in a way that is impacting your ability to feel any joy and/or function daily, I encourage you to reach out to the following resources. You are worth caring for and about.

• United States

Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860

SAGE LGBTQ+ Elder hotline: 877-360-LGBT(5428)

Free and confidential 24/7 text support by texting or calling 988 (a project of in English or Spanish.

Alma: A platform for easily finding a therapist and/or psychiatrist and scheduling a consult with a button-click.

• Canada

For First Nations, Inuit, and Métis Peoples: 1-855-242-3310 in English, French, or, by request, Cree, Ojibway, and Inuktitut

To connect with a mental health professional, call 1-888-668-6810 or text WELLNESS to 686868 for youth; call 1-866-585-0445 or text WELLNESS to 741741 for adults