Battling Imposter Syndrome

This week is the first time I’ve actually had to come up with a blog topic, instead of writing about whatever comes to mind as relevant. So I decided to take a look at which of my goals I haven’t written about in a while. And immediately realized that I haven’t addressed the farm at all. And that I am terrified to write about it.

Battling Imposter Syndrome

The thing is, all my other goals are, in some way a natural extension of who I am now. Oh, getting the generational home will take a hell of a lot more money than any of has and I’m a long way from being able to look in the mirror and see the old ‘woman’. But they are still closely related to who I am now. I can see the seed of them in myself, even if it hasn’t come to flower yet.

The farm

Okay. Here’s the hard truth: I’ve had a black thumb since I moved out of my parents’ house.

Growing up, I was always in the garden. I was the one who picked the flowers we’d plant each spring out of the catalogs Dad ordered for me. (LOTS of tulips and later hyacinths. Mom hated the smell of the hyacinths but to me, they smell of spring.) I was the one who pushed to have a vegetable garden and had to be talked about of getting fruit trees because ‘they take years to produce anything!’ (I still don’t see why this is a reason not to try. We had the room for more trees and we could have enjoyed apple or cherry blossoms just as much as we enjoyed the blossoms of the dogwood trees I WAS allowed to get. The fruit would come eventually.) I planted, I watered and weeded. I picked the cucumbers when they were ripe and found the tiny strawberries peaking between their leaves. (Store bought strawberries haven’t tasted right since.)

But after I moved out, I couldn’t even keep a houseplant alive.

So am I actually able to keep a garden, much less a farm, going? Or was it just that I had Dad to tell me what to do, when to do it, and to handle the stuff I didn’t know I didn’t know that made the garden I had growing up possible?

What the hell am I thinking trying to get a farm going when I manage to kill cacti, of all things?!

Looking Past Fear

The only way I’ve found to get past imposter syndrome is to bring logic into it.

First, of course, I needed Dad’s help as a kid — I was a kid. That doesn’t mean the experience doesn’t count or I didn’t learn anything from it.

Second, all my experience growing up was with outside plants. That doesn’t translate well to understanding where to put *indoor* plants for maximum light. Or how often/how much to water something in a pot, never mind stuff like fertilizer, repotting, etc.

Third, half the times I tried to grow anything in the past 15 years, I was in a crisis or survival situation. I could barely able to handle the basics of life and self-care, never mind plant care. Yes, I forgot to water or didn’t make sure the plant was in an area with good air circulation (lack of air circulation combined with too much water is what killed the cacti — mold found a nice home and moved in) in those situations. That does not mean I won’t be able to manage plant care in a healthy situation.

Fourth, in the past few years I’ve learned that I am autistic, have been battling a major B12 deficiency for most of the past decade, have bipolar disorder, and that my PTSD was way worse and more pervasive than I had thought. Untreated medical and mental conditions and no support do not make for good project management of any sort. Especially project management involving living things.

So I can’t take the past as a predictor of the future. I need to start from today. Battling imposter syndrome isn’t easy, but it’s doable. And the main thing it takes is just being stubborn.

I’m good at stubborn.

Starting From Today

Today I have a handful of plants, most of them fairly new. There’s a pansy that I picked up because I wanted to have something that I could enjoy without worrying about how to keep it alive. No matter what I do it’s going to die off in a few months. A hyacinth sort of ‘ditto’. We don’t have anywhere to plant the bulb when the season is over, but I’m hoping to find someone to give it to so it will bloom again next year. I’m nowhere near ready to try coaxing a bulb to grow and bloom out of a pot.

I have a fern that I picked up last week. No clue yet how it will do long term. But I have a spot right next to my desk where it gets the bright (but not direct) light it needs and where I can easily check if it needs water.

Finally, I have my last surviving cactus. It’s actually a cutting from one the cacti I managed to kill over the winter. But it seems to be doing okay, it’s putting down roots and has one new branch.

Recently I realized that pot it’s in is way too big for it. So I’ll be repotting it in the near future. We’ll see how that goes.

I have tentative plans to try to grow some micro-greens this summer. It isn’t exactly hard to get seeds to sprout, and it’ll be a small success I can enjoy (metaphorically and digestively).

Okay, TODAY…

(The annoying thing about writing posts ahead of time and having a buffer is that sometimes things CHANGE before the post goes live…)

The re-potting seems to have gone well. This cactus starting as a cutting from one of the cacti I killed. It is putting down roots and a small branch. No sign of mold or other problems (yet). So fingers crossed!

One thing I forgot to mention is that I kept all the cacti alive for a bit over a year before the mold hit. I moved them to a new location where they both got less light (so water evaporated more slowly) and less air circulation, and, well, yeah.

Re-potting the cactus into a small pot that fit it better left me with a lot of soil from the over-sized pot that had been used only a month or so. I didn’t want to just through it out, seemed like a waste. So instead I checked it pretty obsessively for any kind of mold and went ahead and planted the spinach seeds I had tucked away from the last time I tried to grow spinach (which didn’t go all that well). No, I didn’t plant them in the big pot. I have a tin foil cake pan that got to squashed to make cake with. Spread the soil out in there about a half inch deep, sprinkle with seeds, put it in a spot with good light.

See what happens. Hopefully, if I did (and keep doing) everything right, in a couple weeks I’ll have a nice microgreens salad.

After that, it’ll be small steps. I’m at least a couple of years away from having a yard where I can have an outdoor garden. No need to rush. Just take it a day at a time and enjoy the plants I have.

And keep telling imposter syndrome to STFU.

My Families

Since I’m going to be talking about my family a lot more than previously, it’s probably time I actually lay out who-all is in my family.

I know family life is always complicated, but mine is a bit more complicated than most, having two families-of-origin and a sprawling overlap of chosen family/polyamorous network.

My families of origin probably won’t be showing up that often, if only because (due to various kinds of distance) they just aren’t an active part of my life these days. Which is a sad.

Family of Origin 1

My birth family, including father, mother (recent deceased), 5 siblings, an aunt, a grandfather, a sister-in-law, and a sort-of uncle (my mother’s brother-of-choice) who I tend to forget exists half the time. (Sorry!)

Family of Origin 2

My adoptive family, including father (deceased), mother, brother, assorted aunts, uncles, and cousins, and apparently soon a sister-in-law.

Chosen Family/Polyam Network

Several of these folks will be coming up regularly. Especially in relation to generational household and old ‘woman’, but also sometimes also the farm. Often enough and enough detail that I went around and asked a bunch of them if they were okay being talked about and what name I should use for them.

  1. Michael — nesting partner, father of two of my children, my BDSM submissive & pet (24/7). She/her. Fursona is a demon.
  2. Michon — cuilmate, mother of two of my children, co-dom to Michael, head of family. Ze/hir. Fursona is a dragon.
  3. Dilip Numitor Amalia Chetana Waller — father of two of my children, Michon’s live-in co-parent, still figuring out where he fits in our weirdness. He/him. Told me to come up with a pseudonym for him, so I used my favorite random name generator. Now he’s stuck with it.
  4. C — girlfriend, LDR. She/her. Fursona is a cat.
  5. Ericka — Michael’s girlfriend & BDSM submissive, my friend. She/her. Fursona is probably a cat.
  6. B — sister-of-choice, auntie to two of my kids, mother to a kid of her own. She/her

Other folks who will also get mention from time to time:

  • The five kids Tween, Kid 1, Kid 2, Kidling, and Kidlet. For those who have been following the blog a while, none of these were part of the custody battle I was involved in several years ago. Tween is B’s kid. The others are mine by birth or by choice.
  • Michael’s brother-by-choice (J)
  • J’s mom, whose become mom-by-choice to me and Michael (MB)
  • Ericka’s Nana