End of Summer Burn Out

Summer is coming to an end, and I’m honestly looking forward to it. I love gardening, harvesting, and enjoying summer days—but unfortunately, my body and symptoms do not.

This summer has been especially hard. With the El Niño heat wave causing record temperatures, drought, and massive wildfire activity, it really has been hard on my body.

Anyone with a chronic health condition can probably relate. Heat and breathing in smoke all day takes a number on a body, and for someone with chronic health issues it has been draining—flare after flare, with short reprieves in between. It’s just been a hell of a summer.

I’m also still trying to get a handle on what it means to be in a body with MCAS, which has brought on even more sensitivities to environmental changes.

Being human feels harder right now

On top of all of that, I feel like being a human right now is just a little harder. Food prices are up, gas is up, the world feels unstable, and so does the weather and the climate.

With all of that, my body just crashed. HARD. Like couldn’t make myself food, and choosing between eating and showering hard.

I haven’t had a crash like this in a while. Though for anyone that knows me, I probably say that a lot. I think my brain helps me forget crashes to survive. So each time I end up completely couch bound or bed bound again it comes as a surprise. I think if I actually remembered them happening—and just how bad it was—I would struggle to push myself even a bit with fear.

So I did what I needed to do. I took a break.

Rest is hard for me (even when I need it)

Taking a break is incredibly hard for me. I am an over achieving perfectionist, who feels this insane amount of guilt when I don’t do something—anything.

Even writing this blog, I want to share my feelings, but I am still in my crash mode… so instead of radically resting, I am writing. Will probably pay for it later, but here we are anyways.

The emotional weight of this summer

Mentally this summer, we as a planet and people have been through a lot. Wildfires causing smoke, that as we breathe in causes inflammation and harm to our body. The emotional toll of fear and empathy for ourselves and others who these terrible wildfires have affected. Grieving for the lands and homes they have burned to the ground.

And disappointment when blame and nastiness is sent to those suffering rather than empathy and compassion. Although I have seen more compassion than blame, the blame had a way of overshadowing the majority’s humanity and kindness.

Lack of sunshine due to smoky skies brings moods down and sets this ominous feeling of dread and doom into my nervous system. It just feels like a lot. Maybe I feel too much—that is my problem—but it was hard not to this year.

The garden struggled too

But the garden is also struggling. The heat is not only taking its toll on me, but on my plants.

Many of my plants are stunted. Fruit production on my tomatoes, peppers and corn has been VERY slow growing. Turns out they don’t like the heat and the smoke either!

Then came the large pest infestation of flea beetles that ravaged many of my plants. Because we did not get any rain for so long, their larvae thrived—bringing an amount I have never seen before. That decimated my trap crop plants and stunted some of my other plants.

All of this happened even though my plants have an abundance of nutrients in the soil, regular watering (thanks to my automated waterer!), mulch, diversity of beneficial insects, and natural pest control. This year it just took a beating… but it is still growing. Showing that even when nature has everything it needs, sometimes external factors can still hinder it from thriving.

Maybe it’s okay that I’m struggling too

Which has me thinking: maybe it’s okay that I am also struggling. Maybe it’s okay that my recovery is hard right now, that I need more rest, and that I need to conserve more energy—physically and mentally.

Because, as much as we like to forget, I am a part of nature. I am not separate. And even though people around me are still pushing through, having fun and going about their lives while I am struggling, doesn’t mean they aren’t with some things in their lives either.

A permaculture win I didn’t expect

A fun permaculture reflection: when my grandmother came to visit she wanted to see my garden—this is the woman who first taught me gardening. She walked in, snacking on everything she could, looked around and said, “You have no weeds!, you must have cleaned up for me.”

That right there made me pause.

I don’t really have any weeds. A few here and there, but mostly just the odd quack grass—and guess what? I didn’t weed. Most days I didn’t even go out to the garden.

Instead, my permaculture practices over the last three years have paid off and given me the reprieve of not having to worry about weeds. Even in a year when my garden is struggling elsewhere. What a beautiful thing to reflect on.

Changing my practice to regeneration not only gave me nutrient rich soil and plants, but it gave me breathing room. I didn’t have to weed.

And even the plants that flea beetles damaged were mostly the ones I left for them to damage—like the nasturtiums, kale, and horseradish leaves. Now that the temperatures are cooling, my stunted fruiting veg are producing like crazy… all while I was stuck inside, on the couch and sometimes in bed.

This to me feels like a big win. I can keep gardening, even when my body goes into hibernation mode without my permission—just like nature does.

Closing: nature rests, so I can too

This has been a reminder: everything in nature takes a break. It rests. It goes through rough periods. It adapts and adjusts even during times when we think it should only be growing.

So it’s okay to rest. It’s okay to take a break. One day things will get easier again.

And to be a little cheeky: all my planning, observing and regeneration has really been paying off during this season of my life—when things are just harder than I want them to be.

The Chronically Tired Gardener