Gatekeeping My Garden

There was a season when my soil changed and I closed the gate.

Not overnight.
Not dramatically.
But quietly.

Grief has a way of doing that.

It doesn’t always burn everything down.
Sometimes it seeps in slowly; altering the composition of your ground until nothing grows the way it used to.

And for a while, I didn’t recognize my own garden.

Things that once bloomed with ease felt heavy.
Joy felt distant.
Creativity felt muted.
Even my own presence felt unfamiliar.

When grief enters your life (whether from loss, disappointment, betrayal, transition, or quiet heartbreak) it shifts the chemistry of everything.

The ground feels dense.
The air feels different.
Even sunlight doesn’t land the same.

And instead of tending to the soil, we often rush to plant over it.

New goals.
New projects..

But nothing sustainable grows in ground that hasn’t been restored.

So I closed the gate.

Not to keep people out.
But to stop pretending everything was fine.