My name is Seyra Hammond. Gardening is essential to my well-being. I know that now that I’m in my 40s. But I didn’t always, even though gardening has always been a part of my life. My family immigrated from Bangladesh, bringing their love of gardening with them and sharing it with me from an early age. At home, I gardened at my father’s side. He grew intensely fragrant roses, jasmines, tuberoses, flashy hibiscus, and delicious tomatoes, peppers, okra, eggplant, flat beans, and red amaranth, to name just a few. He gave me a solid foundation in gardening, teaching me how to prepare and amend the soil, provide for the cultural needs of varied plants, and how to collect seeds and overwinter tropical plants. Growing plants was a fun and interesting hobby early in my life, and many of us in our family shared it.
I turned to plants as companions during my adolescence when connecting with other humans became more painful. I felt isolated, unable to relate to the children in school or to members of my family. I preferred being around plants and non-human animals or just being alone in my rich inner world. When I started to turn to plants for companionship, gardening began to turn into an obsession. I noticed plants wherever I went. I learned that if I treated them respectfully, they seemed to return the favor, trusting me to learn all their secrets.
I began to explore the woods and fields around our house to find other treasures. Little by little, I started to meet them all and learn about their own complex lives. I spent hours at the library reading and brought home field guides and natural history books. As a biology major in college, I learned about ecology, plant development, and evolution. But the cold, hard facts only fed part of my soul. I was missing meaning in my life.
When I was in my 20s, I couldn’t cope with the dissonance in my life anymore. I was stuck between many worlds and feeling rejected by them all, neither Bangladeshi nor American, a human trying to escape humanity, a med school student with no interest in medicine, a person with no home, identity, desires, or dreams of her own. This was also the period of my life where I had the least access to outdoor spaces and the most limited ability to garden. My emotional pain and lack of coping skills led me to try to end it all. I was involuntarily hospitalized. I was only released after I agreed to follow strict orders, which included living with my parents and a year of outpatient treatment.
Once out of treatment, I tried to piece my life back together. Luckily, I met my husband soon thereafter, who dulled the pain and distracted me with laughter. In our tiny apartment, I was able to grow some houseplants. I thought I could just carry on pretending things were okay. However, I realized I hadn’t really addressed my challenges in my mandatory treatment program. My unresolved challenges were becoming my husband’s problems and I couldn’t allow that. So, in my 30s, I voluntarily sought treatment. I learned that I have autism spectrum disorder (ASD), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), dysthymia, depression, and anxiety. I am also a highly sensitive person (HSP), though that is a personality trait, not a medical condition. I am still in treatment and will probably need to continue that for the rest of my life.
In fact, this blog and gardening are parts of my treatment as well. Gardening and the natural world that it overlaps with are the things in my life that I always count on to help me cope. In a garden or a natural setting, I feel accepted, things make sense, I feel safe, and I never want to leave. Plants and animals were always the first and easiest beings for me to connect with. I believe we are all the fruits from the same tree of life, living in a web of interconnectedness, equally valuable, deserving of respect, and responsible for looking after each other. Plants quietly provide us with food, oxygen, clothing, shelter, medicine, and even beauty to console us on our arduous journey through life, asking only that we help them prosper, too. I believe I can return these life-sustaining gifts by sharing my love with others and cultivating them to the best of my ability. I know now that I’m neurodivergent. I still struggle to connect with people, but talking about plants, animals, or anything nature-related makes it easier for me. With this blog, my goal is to develop a place where I can connect with others while being authentic about who I am and what I love. For most of my life, I’ve been masking and trying to make people happy. But I want to finally feel comfortable in my own skin. Not everyone will understand me, agree with me, or get my sense of humor. But that’s okay. Thankfully, there’s a place for all of us.
These days, my husband, Chad, and I are slowly developing the garden of our dreams in Western Connecticut. Our garden is influenced by our different approaches but guided by our shared beliefs, values, and visions for the garden. Chad’s approach is irreverent, creative, optimistic, ambitious, spontaneous, and intuitive. My approach is the complete opposite! But at least we share the same objectives. We invite as much life as we can. This means maintaining the garden in a way that considers the needs of others who call it home. Another goal is for the garden to be plant-focused rather than design-focused. We are plant collectors! We grow plants as individuals because we love them and want to listen to what they have to say. As we continue to expand the garden, it will be interesting to see how things evolve. We have no master plan. Part of the fun of gardening is the creative process of working with nature. We want to listen and collaborate. That learning and creative process is one of the best parts of gardening for me.
Thanks for stopping by and listening to my story. I hope there’s something here that will heal your heart as I try to heal mine with plant power. But if nothing else, I hope you enjoy all the plants!
Seyra