Dirt is Therapeutic

I used to get manicures on the regular. Manicures were the one thing that kept me feeling pulled together. A delicious dark red was my color of choice. I tried pastels, but they were just not for me.

There was just one problem: dirt could destroy a manicure faster than the dollars could even make sense. I tried gloves — every type of work glove on the market. Not a single pair felt right, and none of them seemed to help keep my nails in check anyway.

Eventually, I stopped trying to make it all work and gave up my manis. 😔

I kept trying gloves though, because now you can actually see the dirt under my nails after a day outside. A polished nail meant out of sight, out of mind.

The only problem? I still find myself taking the gloves off. Oh, I start with good intentions, but before I even realize what’s happening, they’re off.

Gloves felt like a blocker. They muted the sensations. And I need to feel what I am doing. I need to feel the dirt — how dense it is, how damp it is, how it crumbles between my fingers.

But this need extends far beyond the garden.

I was the kid my mom constantly told to stop touching things in stores. If something was new to me, I needed to inspect it. And inspection always started with touch. “Look with your eyes, not your hands” never really worked for me.

Recently, I came across an article describing dirt as an antidepressant. Certain microbes found in soil have been shown to mirror some of the effects of pharmaceutical antidepressants. (I linked the article below if you are curious.)

Suddenly, something clicked. Maybe that’s why gloves never worked for me. Maybe it was never just about gardening.

Maybe somewhere deep down, my hands knew exactly what I needed all along. Maybe the dirt under my nails was never proof that I was falling apart.

Maybe it was proof that I had finally found the thing that put me back together.

https://www.gardeningknowhow.com/garden-how-to/soil-fertilizers/antidepressant-microbes-soil.htm