Pulling Weeds Fixed My Mood
I was in it.
Wednesday was one of those days.
Sleep-deprived. Over-caffeinated. Emotionally free-falling.
Doing my best to power through the day, but feeling like I couldn’t get out of my own way and that everyone needed something from me every three minutes. (Can you relate? I know you can 🤪).
By the time I closed my laptop, I was spent.
Not in the “phew, I did it” kind of way. In the bone-tired, soul-drained, “I might just dissolve into a pile of tears and Nutella” kind of way.
And then… the weeds.
I took the dog out front and noticed how wildly overgrown the flower bed was. One of those things that had been bothering me for weeks but I kept ignoring because… who has time?
But for some reason, maybe a mix of sun, surrender, and desperation, I got that rare spontaneous urge to just do it now. The kind that only strikes when you least expect it, and when you’re least prepared. No gloves. No shoes. Just me, the dirt, and a quiet determination.
Normally, weeding feels like a chore. A “last on the to-do list” kind of task that I dread.
The Unexpected Therapy of Pulling Weeds
Weeding doesn’t ask much of you. Just attention. Just presence.
It’s physical but not strenuous. Quiet but not boring. Intentional but mindless, in the best way.
I didn’t put on a podcast or music. I didn’t make it a productivity challenge or part of a checklist or decide on an end point.
I just got my hands in the dirt. I let it be simple.
And then 45 minutes flew by.
I looked up, sweaty and barefoot, surrounded by a pile of uprooted weeds… and I felt better. Lighter. Grounded. Like I’d worked something out without realizing I was doing it.
Are the weeds just weeds? Or are they the thoughts that clutter your head? The emotions left untended? The obligations growing wild in the background while you're too busy just trying to get through the day?
Maybe pulling them is how we remind ourselves: we still get to choose what stays and what goes.
When Burnout Demands Tactile Relief
Here’s the thing: sometimes our minds are too loud for reflection.
Sometimes the self-help tips and breathwork and journaling feel like more noise and tasks.
But your body always knows what to do.
Especially when it can touch the real world.
When I’m feeling disconnected or fried, I want the earth.
I want to be barefoot in the grass.
I want dirt under my fingernails and sun on my face.
I want to sit on the ground—literally. On the floor, the porch steps, the dirt path.
That’s how I come back to myself. That’s how I root down, so I don’t spiral out.
I’ve loved being barefoot since I was a kid, running through the sprinkler in the backyard, feet caked in mud. Toes in the sand and waves at the beach. Learning to mold my arches to rocks so I didn't slip.
Somewhere along the way, I learned to sit in chairs and wear shoes and pretend like control was more important than joy. But barefoot and dirty hands is still my default when I’m looking for truth.
There’s actually a name for this kind of sensory reset: shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing.”
It’s the Japanese practice of slowing down, unplugging, and soaking in nature with all your senses. Not hiking, not meditating, not solving, just being. Touching the grass. Noticing the breeze. Letting the quiet do its work.
Turns out, our bodies crave what’s real.
Let It Be Messy, Then Let It Be Simple
We don’t always get to tidy up our minds as easily as a garden bed. But we do get moments like these: quiet, accidental, grounding moments that remind us we’re allowed to pause and reset.
And no, I’m not suddenly a weeding evangelist.
But I am saying: the next time life feels like it’s all too much, maybe don’t reach for your phone. Maybe don’t try to fix it all.
Maybe just go pull a few weeds.
Grounding Practices + Mood Reset Ideas You Can Do (Today)
If you're overstimulated, burnt out, or spiraling, try one of these tactile, earthy resets. They're simple and free.
Pull a few weeds (obviously) or repot a plant with your bare hands
Sit in the sun for 10 minutes with no agenda, just you and the light
Fold laundry on the floor with music or silence and zero rush
Lay flat on the ground (inside or outside) and breathe deep
Go outside barefoot on grass, dirt, sand, or even pavement. Feel it.
You don’t need a full reset retreat. You need a moment of realness.
A minute of simplicity.
A reminder that you are not just a brain in a jar. You are a body. A whole being.
And you deserve to come home to yourself.
