Mental Garden

Chapter Eleven : Fern

Part One:

In the final month of our relationship, as the cracks in our love story grew wider, my boyfriend proposed a ray of hope—a glimmer of possibility to mend what had been broken, mostly me. He suggested therapy, believing that it could be a lifeline for both of us and for our fading connection. Initially hesitant, I eventually agreed, because I was willing to give anything a chance if it meant salvaging the love we had cherished so deeply. With a mixture of trepidation and hope, I attended my first therapy session, not knowing what to expect or what revelations awaited me.

In those first two sessions, I cautiously shared the complexities of my emotions—the fears that had held me captive, the insecurities that had plagued me, and the communication struggles that had become apparent. The therapeutic space became a sanctuary where I could bare my soul and explore the depths of my heart. As the sessions unfolded, I discovered a newfound sense of empowerment. The act of vocalizing my thoughts and feelings to a neutral third party brought clarity to the tumultuous storm within me. It was a revelation that my emotions were valid, and that seeking help was a sign of strength, not weakness.

However, despite my determination to continue with therapy, the impending end of our relationship loomed ever closer. The gulf between us had become too vast to bridge, and the realities we faced were undeniable.

As we decided to part ways, I knew that my journey with therapy was only just beginning. I made a commitment to myself that healing would be my priority, and that I would navigate the aftermath of heartbreak with courage and resilience. Therapy became my refuge—the safe haven where I delved into the complexities of my emotions, confronted my insecurities, and learned to build a stronger foundation of self-love and acceptance.

In the wake of our breakup, I found myself standing at a crossroads—a place where pain and hope converged, and a revelation awaited. It was in this moment of heartache that I made a life-altering decision—I chose to embark on a journey of healing and self-discovery. My ex boyfriend, despite the pain, helped me realize I did need help, and that if I didn't seek it, I would be spiralling until it kills me.

The pain of our separation became a catalyst for change, awakening a desire within me to become a better version of myself. I realized that I had neglected my own well-being for far too long, and I was determined to break free from the chains of anxiety that had held me captive for so many years. As I set foot on this transformative path, I recognized that healing was not an overnight process. It was a gradual and sometimes arduous journey—a labyrinth of emotions and introspection that required courage and vulnerability. I began by seeking professional help for my anxiety, vocalizing to others that I needed support. With a newfound sense of self-advocacy, I sought therapy to unpack the tangled threads of my emotions and confront the roots of my anxiety. Through therapy, I discovered the power of self-awareness and learned healthy coping mechanisms that would become my armor in times of distress.

In the face of challenges, I was determined not to let my anxiety define me. I adopted new habits and rituals that nurtured my well-being—engaging in mindfulness practices, journaling, and physical activities that reconnected me with the present moment and grounded me in the here and now. Slowly but surely, I felt the weight of anxiety lifting from my shoulders, as if a fog was clearing, revealing a path of clarity and self-acceptance before me. The transformation was both empowering and humbling, and I embraced every step with gratitude and courage.

As the months passed, I felt like I was becoming a completely different person—a version of myself that I had once believed was unattainable. The walls I had built around my heart began to crumble, replaced by a newfound sense of authenticity and vulnerability. The healing journey had not only taught me to face my fears and insecurities head-on but had also unveiled a profound understanding of myself. I discovered that self-compassion was the key to unlocking the door to my inner strength—a reservoir of resilience that I could draw upon in times of vulnerability.

Part Two:

One of the most significant changes that emerged from my healing journey was the transformation of my relationship with my dad. Our connection had been strained by the turbulence of my past, but with the weight of my anxiety lifted, I was finally able to see him for the pillar of support he had always been. I recognized that I had spent so much time focusing on my relationship with my boyfriend that I had unintentionally neglected the bond I shared with my dad. It was a revelation that hit me with a mix of regret and determination—I needed to fix this relationship, to rekindle the connection that had always been there.

With a heart full of gratitude and a desire to make amends, I decided to adopt new habits that would strengthen our bond. I woke up at 4 o'clock in the morning, before the sun had even begun to rise, to prepare a hearty breakfast for my dad before he left for work. As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, I could sense the bridge between us being rebuilt. The simple act of sharing breakfast together became a sacred ritual, a time when we could connect and share our thoughts and feelings.

Through these early morning conversations, I discovered a depth of understanding in my dad that I had never fully appreciated before. He had always been there. Our bond grew stronger with each passing day, and I began to cherish the time we spent together. Whether it was a quiet breakfast, a shared walk in the park, or a simple conversation on the porch, I reveled in the simple pleasures of being present in each other's lives.

Our relationship was no longer burdened by the weight of unsaid words and unspoken emotions. Instead, it blossomed into a genuine and profound connection, a bond rooted in love, respect, and a shared commitment to grow together. Through the haze of heartbreak and anxiety, I had discovered that healing not only meant tending to our own wounds but also nurturing the relationships that enriched our lives. My dad became a guiding light, illuminating the path towards self-acceptance and personal growth.

The early mornings spent preparing breakfast for my dad became a symbol of love and gratitude—an acknowledgment of the unwavering support he had always offered, even during my darkest moments.

I had come to understand that healing wasn't just about fixing what was broken; it was about embracing the beauty of life and the power of connection. And in the embrace of a newfound harmony, I found strength—the strength to face each day with a heart full of love and a spirit unafraid to embrace the journey ahead.

In the aftermath of my breakup and the decision to embark on a healing journey, I had hoped that my newfound clarity and understanding would mend not only my relationship with my dad but also bridge the gap with my mom. However, life had other plans in store, and I found myself facing a new challenge—navigating the complexities of a distant and strained relationship with my mom.

As I focused on my own growth and self-discovery through therapy, I became more aware of the dynamics in my family and the patterns that had shaped our interactions. It was during this time that I began to notice the underlying issues that had led to our distance—communication breakdowns, unmet expectations, and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Despite my attempts to bridge the gap, I found myself met with resistance from my mom. It was as though the distance between us had grown too vast to traverse. Our conversations became strained, filled with awkward silences and surface-level pleasantries. As much as I yearned to rebuild our connection, I had to confront the painful truth that my mom was not receptive to the changes I was making in my life. It was disheartening to realize that my growth and efforts at self-improvement were met with indifference or, at times, even disdain.

In time, I came to understand that my mom's behavior stemmed from her own struggles and unresolved issues. Her inability to show appreciation or engage in meaningful communication was a reflection of her own emotional barriers. It was essential for my well-being to establish limits that protected me from emotional harm while still acknowledging the love and connection we shared as mother and daughter.

I continued to focus on my own growth and healing, finding solace in the unconditional support of my dad and the newfound understanding that my therapy journey had granted me. With time, I became more resilient, understanding that the love and appreciation I sought from my mom might not come in the form I had hoped for.