My ADHD Brain Wants Constant Progress. Gardening Said Absolutely Not.

So as many of you know, I’m gardening now.

Little Miss Suzy Homemaker over here growing shit and figuring shit out along the way while simultaneously trying to keep my own shit together. Sounds kinda like life in general, honestly.

And weirdly enough? It’s been one of the healthiest things I’ve done for myself in a long time.

Which is funny because if you’d told me a year ago that I’d be emotionally attached to tomatoes, arguing with aphids, researching native plants like it’s a doctoral dissertation, and buying beneficial bugs off the internet, I would’ve laughed directly in your face.

And yet…here we are.

At the moment, I’m working with a brokerage doing health insurance, life insurance, Medicare, and all the other “adult” things that sound stable and responsible when you say them out loud. But the position itself lacks structure, and unfortunately for me, structure is something my ADHD brain desperately needs in order to thrive.

Without structure, my brain starts doing what ADHD brains do best:

everything.
all at once.
with panic.

Research spiral?
Sure, why not.

Twenty unfinished ideas?
Absolutely.

Overthinking every life decision while reorganizing my plants and emotionally collapsing because I forgot to send one email?
Classic Jess.

So somewhere along the way, gardening quietly became the structure my nervous system was needing all along.

And weirdly enough…it works.

It’s therapeutic and grounding for me in a way I didn’t expect. Think zen meets chaos, meets zen again, and then maybe a little peace if the spider mites stay away.

Can we hang out here for a second though and acknowledge something kinda wild? 🤪

ADHD brains are a force to be reckoned with.

Not stupid.
Not lazy.
Not incapable.

A freaking force.

A powerful, exhausting, brilliant, overstimulated force that can somehow do all of these things at once:

Hyperfocus for 9 hours? ✔️
Forget why I walked into a room? ✔️
Start twelve projects? ✔️
Emotionally spiral over one unfinished task? ✔️
Crave structure while resisting it at the exact same time? ✔️

And if you layer trauma responses on top of ADHD?

Whew. 😮‍💨

That’s one helluva nervous system cocktail.

Because now we’re not just talking executive dysfunction.

Now we’re talking hypervigilance. Overthinking. People pleasing. Perfectionism. Constant internal pressure to “do enough” so you can finally feel safe and worthy.

Which brings me back full circle to gardening.

You know what gardening doesn’t care about?

Urgency.

Gardening does not care that my ADHD brain wants immediate proof that I’m doing a good enough job.

It doesn’t care that I want visible progress every five minutes so my brain can calm the fuck down and stop asking:

“ARE WE FAILING?”
“SHOULD WE PANIC?”
“SHOULD WE BUY ANOTHER PLANT?”

You cannot aggressively motivate a tomato into growing faster.

You cannot emotionally support root development into happening overnight.

You cannot fertilize something twelve times in one week just because you wanna “do something.”

Believe me. I’ve thought about it, researched it, and eventually decided I needed to chill the fuck out.

Gardening is teaching me something that honestly feels offensive to my nervous system sometimes:

Consistency matters more than intensity.

And WOW. That one hit me right in the guts.

Because my ADHD brain LOVES intensity.

New stuff.
New ideas.
New plans.
New hobbies.
Research marathons.
Hyperfixation.
The dopamine hit of starting something exciting.

Intensity feels productive and safe.

But more than that?
It feels like control.

And for an ADHD brain, that’s huge.

However…

Consistency?
Slow growth?
Waiting?
Observing instead of fixing?

That feels like psychological warfare some days.

And yet still…plants don’t need panic.

They need steady care.

Water.
Sunlight.
Attention, but just the right amount.
Adjustment when necessary.
Patience when nothing appears to be happening.

Honestly, I think that last part is the hardest for me.

Because I think a lot of us learned to associate visible productivity with worth.

If we’re constantly moving, cleaning, researching, helping, solving, fixing, planning, or producing something…then maybe we can finally give ourselves permission to relax for five seconds and feel like we’ve earned our existence.

But gardening?

It humbled me QUICKLY.

Sometimes the best thing you can do for growth is leave it alone for a minute.

Not abandon it.
Not neglect it.

Just stop digging it up every five minutes to make sure it’s working.

And wow if that isn’t also a metaphor for healing.

I’ve spent so much of my life trying to force progress.
Force certainty.
Force outcomes.
Force myself into becoming “better” faster.

Because I’m already behind…right?

Wrong.

Gardening basically looked at me and said:
“That’s cute.”

Rude honestly.

But maybe necessary.

Because every morning I walk outside and notice something tiny that changed overnight.

Flowers opening.
A seedling getting taller.
A pollinator showing up.
A pepper FINALLY forming (iykyk).
Roots doing what roots do underground while I stood above the soil wondering if anything was happening at all.

And honestly?

Us humans are kinda like that too.

Maybe healing doesn’t always look dramatic.
Maybe growth isn’t always loud.
Maybe not every season of your life is meant for visible blooming.

Sometimes we’re just building roots.

Underground.
Invisible to the naked eye.

And as much as my ADHD brain hates waiting…

I think gardening is teaching me how to trust the process without needing constant proof that it’s working.

That might be the most healing part of it