For many reasons, I already feel that I am a horticultural therapist, but I do not have a certificate in the field. As much as I may want one, and I may still seek one out, part of me is somehow upset by the fact that even garden therapy has now been sucked into the professionalism can. This, again, points to how difficult it can be to begin again when your first plan at a profession is hindered by your health.
As someone already set back by years of being unable to work, it is sad to begin again already thinking of missing out on a few more years, since they will be sucked up by some other kind of training. In addition, there is always the fear of falling apart, again, after having had to drop other big life plans. Failure was never an option in the past, but now it is almost always expected, along with a another trip to a doctor, and another...
Expecting failure is a strange way to live, but at least I rarely, if ever, see germination failure. I tend to let plants fail when the weather gets too hot, and I don't water them quite enough. Then it is their failure—not really—but it is a state of failure I can accept. Okay, the only version of failure I can deal with at all. Until they are strong, I care for them more than I often care for myself. This is how I live as I await a return to anything close to normal for me.
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