"Gardening at WE CARE has become a cornerstone of my well-being."
My dreams often took unexpected turns, diverging from the paths I had once envisioned. Life's journey led me through twists and turns, straying from my initial expectations. Yet, amidst these deviations, I have found valuable lessons in acceptance, particularly in relationships, work, health, and spirituality.
This story starts with the beginning of my professional career – as a chef.
In kitchens where I chased the adrenaline rush and recognition of a top chef, long hours accompanied my passion. It mirrored the rock-and-roll lifestyle glorified by Anthony Bourdain in “Kitchen Confidential”, a book that captivated me very early in my life.
The pressure eventually took a toll, and the anxiety and exhaustion I experienced drove me to substances, a coping mechanism that offered diminishing returns. This approach was not sustainable, and I left working in restaurants to become a private chef. This continued to give me a sense of purpose, while my stress levels and reliance on substances became somewhat alleviated.
Gratitude fills my heart for the culinary skills I honed, paving the way for a significant chapter in my life. In 2015, as a skilled migrant, I, along with my then-pregnant ex-wife and our young daughter, embraced a new beginning in Melbourne—a decision propelled by a quest for better work-life balance.
The frenetic apace of restaurants, however, no longer appealed. Fish filleting became my next chapter. To some it may seem like simple and mundane job, but I found it to be an enjoyable, fulfilling and therapeutic experience. Additionally, the foundations laid while I was a chef enabled me to pick the trade up easily. It also gave me more bandwidth for family time, but before long I was searching for something new.
Cue, an injured friend. One day, he asked if I could help mow his lawn - he had injured himself and could not do it on his own. I’m glad I agreed to help because a new passion was sparked. The physicality, fresh air, and satisfaction of a manicured lawn resonated with me on many levels.
I joined horticulture school, and gardening became my sanctuary. Weeding demanded mindfulness – a present-moment focus, a stark contrast to past anxieties. It also strengthened me physically, turning into a free gym with a generous dose of vitamin D.
Witnessing new shoots emerge from fallen trees offered a powerful lesson in resilience – finding a second, third or even fourth wind despite being knocked down. Moreover, the kindness of clients who offered fruits and delights from their gardens fostered a sense of community.
I loved my gardening job so much that I worked at it for the next 6 years. I would have never thought my path of being a chef would lead me to being a horticulturist. I owe so much to gardening - from the humility I felt from standing under trees that have been around the last 100-plus years, to the kindness and warmth of my clients offering me fresh silver beet, lemons, oranges, olives, coffee as well as Greek and Italian sweets.
A devastating separation from my family in 2018 shattered my dream of a happy home. Gardening became my therapy, a way to maintain physical health that nourished my mental well-being. In the quiet moments of weeding, I discovered the connection between physical exertion and mental clarity. When my physical health is good, my mental health gets the support it needs to stay healthy too. Many times, when I was working in the garden, I entered a state of flow. Not trying to sound too new age or woo-woo but in this zone, I often gained insights about myself and of the world - all of which plays a part in nurturing my spirituality.
Autumn, with its falling leaves, became a metaphor for letting go. Just as trees shed leaves to survive winter, I too needed to release what no longer served me.
All the introspection led to a deep personal excavation. Unhealthy relationships, outdated beliefs, and destructive behaviours were identified and discarded – bagged up like the fallen leaves I had done with so many times.
One consequence of my separation was a belief in self-reliance. I saw myself as a lone wolf, afraid to open up or to trust people. Years of isolation had engendered resentment and a sense of victimhood. While my lone wolf belief helped me immensely by making me more independent and discerning, it also caused much isolation and pain. Ultimately, I became resentful towards God for what happened to my dream of a happy family.
However, my return to Singapore in 2022, initially driven by substance abuse and untreated bipolar disorder, marked a turning point. Facing despair, I sought help from a recovery fellowship and it was here that I truly began to understand the power of letting go.
The program emphasized spiritual principles, including surrender and community. This resonated deeply, becoming an extended autumn of releasing years of baggage. Most importantly, I learned to ask for help, a crucial step in relinquishing my self-sufficiency.
My first year of sobriety coincided with a new gardening job. While less prestigious and financially rewarding than my past roles, working alongside migrant brothers from India and Myanmar taught me the value of humility. Kneeling to weed, raking leaves, and greeting guests at the country club chipped away at my pride.
This newfound humility opened my eyes to past mistakes in my relationships. It allowed me to forgive myself and others, replacing victimhood with a willingness to learn and grow. It also softened my heart, allowing me to receive feedback with an open mind.
Recovery is an ongoing journey, one that requires a lot of letting go (and surrender). It's about embracing vulnerability, authenticity, and service to others.
Coming to WE CARE allowed me to shed the mask of "being okay." Here, I found a safe space to share my struggles amidst a community of acceptance, love, and support. Counselling sessions, recovery meetings, and the camaraderie of fellow members help me to heal both mentally and spiritually.
Gardening at WE CARE has become a cornerstone of my well-being. It's a place to practice mindfulness, exercise, and connect with nature. Most importantly, it's a collaborative effort. Nurturing plants, maintaining irrigation systems, and beautifying the space are all shared responsibilities. We are an ecosystem, working hand-in-hand.
This sense of belonging replaced the image of the lone wolf. I am no longer adrift; I am part of a pack, journeying together towards recovery. Sharing stories, offering support, and witnessing the growth of the garden mirror our own transformation.
As I write this, it is autumn in Melbourne – a poignant reminder of the transformative power of letting go.