The Art of Becoming:

a True Crime Confession

I’m a houseplant murderer. I don’t mean to. I guess, I just love too much. I mist them, talk to them, feel their soil, water, fertilize, water again… and then again. Not all in one day. This little dance of fatal seduction plays itself out over weeks until, eventually… you know. And so, I take the deceased outside, where I can return its remains to the earth and prepare for my next victim. Once, my grandma (who could grow things by giggling in their direction), gave me a cutting of one of her plants and said, “This one is so easy to grow—if you kill it you have no business gardening.” Well, now that she’s passed on, she knows the truth. Sorry Grandma. I guess I have no business gardening. I wish the feelings behind my actions were enough to sustain our little indoor friends. If they could survive on my wishes for their vitality, alone, we’d truly have a jungle inside. However, because it requires action (or, in my case, less action) and because my husband must leave me largely unsupervised during the week, we have regular plant funerals.

I wish, with all of my Care Bear heart, I could love these little friends less… that I could pass by, aloof to their existence. Unfortunately for them, my lack of trust in letting the soil get all-the-way-dry means conditions make it challenging to survive around these parts (well, if you’re a house plant). You must be thinking, “Diana, just water them less.” But I can’t! I caaaaan’t! What if, the one time I do, they die from not enough water? I cannot live with this burden. The idea, that I should walk by, day after day, and pretend not to notice that they look a little thirsty, and then shrug my shoulders and keep walking is just. not. acceptable. If they die from knowing I loved them too much, then at least they knew they were loved. If they died from wondering why I didn’t think to give them the LIQUID NECESSARY FOR LIFE??? Well, let’s just say that would be a golden contribution to the list of things that keep me up at night.

Although the True Crimes genre has remained steadfast in its popularity, the confession of my crimes is not actually for the ratings. I am unburdening myself to you, dear reader, for a far greater purpose. I beg you, please, to stop being so mean to yourself. Look, what if I told you my plants keep dying and so, now, when they start getting droopy I stand next to them and scream at them for how worthless and lame and undisciplined and ugly and fat they are? I mean, I must already be presenting as a somewhat crazy person. If I actually stood and screamed at my flailing flora, you would certainly think me certifiable. And yet, we do this to ourselves every day.

Some of us gained back the weight we lost before COVID. Some of us drink too much alcohol. Some of us feel totally numb. Some of us are realizing that the things that we used to devote so much time and energy to are actually not that important anymore. Some of us just feel angry.

So, now what? What usually follows is an unrelenting bashing of individual worth. This shows up in guilt over not doing or being the right things, and shame over doing all the wrong things. We’re screaming at ourselves for withering, but we’re not considering or remembering the conditions impacting or challenging our growth. If we’re not evaluating those factors, we’re not dealing with reality. To make any authentic change, we must face and accept reality.

Please understand, as loving, warm, fuzzy, and Tinkerbell-ish as I can be, I am not advocating for excuses or enabling. What I am saying is that if a plant isn’t thriving, we don’t shame the plant or apply heaping doses of guilt. What do we do? We examine it’s conditions. Does it have the right amount of sun? Does it need more humidity? What ph should the soil be and what is it now? And, for Pete’s sake, who keeps watering the plant?

Research actually does not support “tough love” in contributing to personal growth or development. True, there are many examples of individuals thriving despite horrific conditions. (Some of ya’ll are straight up cacti!) But, extreme examples aside, what the research actually supports is a compassionate approach. One way to define compassion is “empathy in action.” Empathy means we can understand why someone might feel or behave a certain way. It means we can, on some level, see the humanity in their story and put ourselves in their shoes. When we add action to empathy and provide a loving response to pain we are offering compassion. Compassion is not the same as blatant indulgence or excusing. Compassion is love. If you love a child, you will not say to that child, “Okay, I know you love cupcakes so you can have cupcakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” That wouldn’t be loving because it’s not healthy for the child. Instead, you might say, “Oh man, I love cupcakes too. They’re so delicious. Let’s eat as many vegetables as we can with dinner, and then we’ll enjoy our cupcake.” But, you won’t do that every night. It’s a treat… a delight. When you are struggling—let’s say with weight—and you berate yourself for having that extra piece of chocolate, it is not helpful to shame yourself for the chocolate. Shame withers. Instead, what if we examined your conditions for growth? You want to lose weight? Okay, what’s happening around you? You’re in a global pandemic? You’re not sleeping? You miss your friends and family? You feel depressed? You don’t know what will happen next? These are all very stressful things. You’re suffering. How might we address this suffering in a way that also contributes to your health? By expanding our view from the “failure” of ourselves to thrive to all the other contributing factors in this reality, we are better able to be curious about compassionate solutions. Shame and guilt keep us yelling at the plants. Curiosity opens us up to possibility. With curiosity, we are actually more likely to reach solutions that support our thriving. With shame and guilt, we are destined to repeat the same patterns.

Do a little experiment with me. Call to mind something you “failed” at recently—something that you feel a guilt or shame around. Notice how it feels to think about it. Where does it show up in your body? Is there are tightening of the hips? A pit in your stomach? Maybe your jaw has clenched, or your breathing has become shallow, or perhaps your shoulders have rounded and come up towards your ears. Now, pay attention to the shame or guilt voice inside around this example. What is the script? What is the voice saying? How does it feel to receive these words? What happens in your body? When we have this physical response, it is a signal that we have moved into a place of stress. Growth, creativity, positive risk-taking, learning, and bonding are very challenged during stress because a different part of the brain (the cave-man brain) has begun firing.

Wherever you feel the response in your body, see if you can offer it some compassionate movement to reverse the response. For example, if your jaw clenched, try opening your mouth wide and wiggling your jaw side to side to release it. Take some deep breaths. See if you can loosen your whole body. Next, see if you can speak to yourself with some compassion, perhaps as a dear friend would. What would someone who loves you unconditionally and sees all your goodness and all your struggle say to you in this moment? What would they want you to remember? What insight, encouragement, or suggestion would they offer? See if you can imagine what this person would say, and notice how it feels to receive it. What is your physical response? How does it shift what’s happening inside? When we can widen our perspective and take as many variables as we can into account, we have a greater awareness from which to strategize. This also offers a truly critical shift in perspective.

When we berate ourselves for what we feel are personal failures, we are looking at ourselves from an expectation of a certain level of performance. We are constantly on the hook for perfection. This is not reality. Instead, accounting for all the variables in relationship to our blossoming allows us to expand from the myopic attachment to our weaknesses to the possibility of our becoming. Who are you becoming? What is drawing you forward? If you could have a conversation with your higher self, what would your dreams and visions be compelling you to become? Aren’t these far lovelier and enticing questions than, “What the heck is wrong with you?” Questions around becoming actually invite explorations into what conditions might truly support your growth.

Growth is not linear. Growth is cyclical. We come back to similar challenges because we have more work to do there, not because we’re utter failures. Growth is vulnerable and fraught with struggle. Can we please stop yelling at the plant?

What if you’re not withering? What if you’re becoming?

Blessings,

D

I have a couple of videos for you this week.

The first is a guided Loving-Kindness meditation: Click here!

The second, is something to lift you up when you’re feeling down: The Awesome Anthem

Finally, a special acknowledgement to the Green Goddess, herself, whom I will miss all the days of my life. I love you Grandma. Sorry I killed the plant. Help me not love them so hard!

Antonia Gallo (and my grandfather Raul)