Bye Bye Pests...

How I learned to drop the rope.

Photo Credit: Chellie Grossman from my garden

I didn’t think much of them as they gathered together, seemingly harmless. There was a certain beauty to their assembly. As they congregated in one area, I imagined their shared sense of unity and wondered about their communication. Curious and captivated, I reached for my cell phone to take a picture.

They remained still, allowing me to capture the moment. My heart swelled with a strange fondness for these tiny creatures. Using Apple’s feature for identifying objects, I tapped the “i” icon, revealing their name: Zelus Longipes, also known as the "assassin bug."

A pang of unease struck me. Unaware of their potential danger to my garden, I had let them stay, believing they were harmless. The realization felt like a betrayal. My initial admiration turned into a mixture of regret and urgency as I understood the threat they posed.

Gardening is something I do every day. Caring for the plants and watching them grow fills me with a deep sense of peace. It is a symbiotic relationship, they need me as much as I need them. My day begins with tending to each of them, even before my first cup of coffee. The gentle routine of watering, pruning, and nurturing my garden is my sanctuary, my escape from the chaos of the world.

However, that peace turned into frustration as I watched these bugs infest my cucumber plants. Each day, the bugs grew stronger while my plants became weaker. My heart ached with every yellowing leaf and drooping vine. The vibrant green that once symbolized life and hope was now marred by the relentless presence of these pests.

And still, I tried my best to help them grow and thrive. My garden that once felt magical to me, now felt like a chore and became a source of anxiety. I fought to save my plants, but the more I struggled, the more defeated I felt. The bugs seemed invincible, and their hold on my garden tightened with each passing day. My sanctuary became a battleground, and the serenity I once found there was overshadowed by the relentless fight against these unwelcome invaders.

Photo Credit: Unknown

I knew the best course of action was to let go of the plants. Although I hate killing anything, I needed to cut my plants and dispose of them in the trash bin to ensure the bugs would be gone too. With a heavy heart and utmost care, I made sure to keep the bugs and plants together, ensuring they all ended up in the trash bag and ultimately, the trash bin. Each snip of the shears felt like a small betrayal to the care I had given, but I knew it was necessary.

By eliminating the bugs and plants, I illuminated my view. No longer did I feel frustrated at these pests; instead, I became infused with a fresh hopefulness at the thought of new possibilities. The garden felt lighter, and so did I.

The challenge was moving past the “let me fix this” or “I can make this better” phase. Letting go was the best thing I did. It’s harder than it sounds. The emotional weight of deciding to remove something you’ve nurtured is immense.

There are times when we need to just “drop the rope” and stop playing a game of willfulness to see who wins the battle. This didn’t have to be about winning or losing. Instead, I accepted what was happening and stopped trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed. I dropped the rope and let go of my willfulness to have to have the garden my way. And in letting go, I found a new beginning and a renewed sense of hope.

Photo Credit: Unsplash

Sometimes, we have people in our lives who cause us more pain than joy, often without us realizing it. As you may know, I am Jewish, and most people in my life are aware of this. However, I began hearing troubling comments from someone who claimed to be a "friend."

He ended many conversations with, "Oh, you Jewish people!"

I had countless moments of silent protest, my mind screaming, "No, that is not okay." My teeth clenched, my neck and shoulders stiffened with anger and disbelief. Did he really just say that to me? And this is supposed to be my friend?! The sense of betrayal and hurt cut deep, leaving me questioning the very foundation of our friendship.

Our conversations often went like this:

Him: "Hey, how are you today?"

Me: Fill in any innocuous statement

Him: "Oh, you Jewish people."

“Oh you Jewish people” isn’t just snarky, it’s mean and hurtful. For a long time I questioned our friendship. We didn’t share the same values. I didn’t care for his personality. It was becoming more evident that his insensitive remarks were showing me his true colors. But he was an equal opportunity insensitive nit! He also enjoyed mimicking accents of non-native English speakers.

I discussed his behavior with mutual friends, and they brushed it off. We were a group of four friends, surely they would understand I thought. One of them said “I don’t want to get involved.” Another one dismissed the comments and said “Oh, that’s just him”. This felt like war to me! My willfulness was poking through and I felt a need to stand up for who I am, a strong Jewish woman and someone who believes in treating people with respect (not mimicking accents).

“Do you see that he has a cultural bias”. They seemed okay with this and looked at me as if I was the one who was wrong. By not recognizing how mean and insensitive his behavior had become, they too were wrong. I wasn't okay with any of it, and it hurt that they didn't understand.

It took some time, two weeks to be precise, but I didn’t want to prove myself to anyone so I dropped the rope and left these friends.

Awareness is both a gift and a responsibility. Once I became aware I knew there was a disharmony with my values. This also felt oddly familiar to me. I realized that these "not okay moments" had happened many times before in my life. Often, I stayed, hoping things would change, believing that if I was good enough, others would treat me better. But I no longer hope to be good enough. I know deep in my heart that I am enough. The pain of realizing I couldn't change him or others felt intense, it affected my health. I knew I had to let go. I let go of these friendships that were no longer fulfilling or supportive and I moved on. And that’s okay.

I no longer desire to fix anyone; I only want to be the best version of myself so I can share that authentically with others. After letting go of this group of friends, I felt a sense of relief and inner peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. I slept better and smiled more. I noticed the energy in my body felt differently. There was a clearing in my throat I had not experienced in a while. This part of me usually feels blocked when I am frustrated. Now, for the first time in three years my whole body relaxed, and I feel genuinely happy.

Just as I packed up the bugs and cucumbers, I packed up the past few years with these friends and moved forward. The journey was painful, but it was also liberating. I have so much to share with the world, and I'm ready to embrace the future with an open heart.

May you be happy.

May you be healthy.

May you be peaceful.

May you live a life of ease.

May you always learn, grow and thrive!

Chellie