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My Personal Experience: Finding Peace through Gardening

I remember distinctly the first time I realized what a difference this was making. It was a muggy July day, and I was kneeling in my backyard, hands smeared with soil, as I carefully moved tomato starts that I'd grown from seed eight weeks prior. My Tourette's tics, the violent shoulder spasms and neck twitches that had been particularly severe that week, had abated almost to a whisper. It was the first day that my mind had had a reprieve from preparing for the next twitch.

That's when everything changed.

Living with Tourette's is a lot of "tic management." And what about this "silent, mental" experience? It's the constant mental fatigue of being observed. The anxiety preceding social interactions. The aggravation that accompanies stress. It's trying to "explain" that, "no, you can't just 'stop' anything." Of course, for years, I sought different techniques—medications, therapy, a meditation app, a fitness plan. These aided. "Gardening" is the only thing that's made a difference to my "daily" activities.

It's my story of, quite literally, getting my hands dirty, and how this experience led to my finding my peace of mind and my reasons for launching GrowCommon, where you can find your own piece of peace.

What is Horticultural Therapy? And Why Isn't Everyone Talking About It?

Before I dived into gardening, I'd never come across the phrase "horticultural therapy." It's a tad intimidating—and rather scientific-sounding, actually. And simply stated, horticultural therapy is the practice of using plant-related tasks to better one's health.

What I found most surprising was this is not some sort of alternative therapy on the fringe. Horticultural therapy is a recognized profession, with licensed practitioners working in hospitals, rehabilitation facilities, veterans' institutions, and mental health centers around the world. It is a professional association that dates back to 1973, and there is proof of success among patients who suffer from anxiety, depression, PTSD, dementia, autism, or neurologically-related disorders such as Tourette's.

And the science is compelling: research shows that a mere 30 minutes of gardening can reduce blood levels of the stress hormone cortisol, lower blood pressure, and improve mood. Functional brain scans prove that nature stimulates our parasympathetic nervous system, or "rest and digest" functions, silencing our own personal brains' centers of anxiety, the amygdalae.

However, what the scientific papers lack is the sensation of feeling your shoulders release from your head when you sniff fresh basil. The surprise of finding your first cucumber hiding among its leaves. The satisfaction of preparing a salad from nothing but plant materials you have raised yourself.

How Gardening is Helpful for People with Tourette's Symptoms

1. Focus and Mindfulness, or How Checking the Soil Became My Meditation Practice

Everyone kept telling me to "try mindfulness" or "just meditate." I'd download the app, sit cross-legged on a cushion, and attempt to focus on my breath. And make maybe 90 seconds before my mind began firing from task list to stress about work to attention to my tics.

Gardening is a different matter altogether. It's meditation for a cause.

When I am surveying a tomato plant for caterpillars, I am not trying to empty my mind—I'm totally engaged in the process. I am scrutinizing the undersides of leaves, exploring for droppings, exploring the texture of stems. When I determine if my lettuce requires watering, I thrust my index finger two inches into the soil, appraise soil dampness, evaluate the weather forecast, and recall the last watering date.

All of this attention creates what is known as a "flow state," that place where you're so caught up in what you're doing that you forget about time. It's a serious thing for a Tourette's sufferer. My tics aren't gone, exactly, but they're background noises. Even better, I'm not paying attention to them. I'm breaking the feedback cycle that can make all of this worse.

I have learned what chores can be done in what mental condition. Weeding is good for days when my mind is all over the place—repetitive, easy, and giving quick satisfaction. Planting seeds is a task that requires finesse, appropriate for when my mind wants to be slower. Harvesting is a pleasure, a bonus-free task.

2. Physical Activity (The Kind That Actually Helps)

Here's something that docs don't always talk about when they're describing Tourette's: The tics themselves can be really tiresome, but the constant effort to resist them is even more exhausting. By the time evening arrives, my neck and shoulders feel as if they have been constricted by a vice for the entire day.

Exercise is the sort of thing that traditionally felt like another box to check on the list of self-improvement. Gym membership? Crowded, much of a humiliation about my motor mannerisms. Running? Motor mannerisms made that difficult to attempt.

Gardening, on the other hand, is exercise that requires a different uniform. I am absolutely not "working out" when, for example, I am hauling watering pots, digging holes, and lifting sacks of compost. It is purpose-driven, practical exercise. And the greatest thing about this is that I can get this done all by myself.

The repetitive motion of much of what happens in a garden—the swinging back and forth of raking, the rhythm of hoeing, the line-by-line weeding of a bed—is a physical pattern that functions to calm the neurological misfirings of a tic. And some days, after an hour of gentle gardening, my motor tics improve. It's a long way from a cure, but a significant improvement.

And whereas a workout that I can mandate myself to do, this is something that I actually enjoy. That's something that fitness experts underestimate.

3. Sense of Accomplishment (when Everything Else is spiraling Out of Control)

Life with Tourette's is living with your body betraying you constantly. You can't control the tics. You can't predict when your tics are going to be worse. Doctor's appointments, meds that have side effects, social situations that blow up because someone just didn't get it—so much of this is outside of your control.

Then you plant the seed. You water it. You wait for the sprout to appear. You remove the weak seedlings, up the best ones, stake them as they grow. You harvest the first ripened tomato, warm from the sun. You slice it for dinner, and it tastes like sunshine.

You did that. Every step. From seed to plate.

This feeling of agency—of directly creating something good, through my own direct effort—remains incredibly therapeutic, and I'm finding that I'm difficult to articulate. Every successful growing plant is a demonstration that I am capable of this. Every harvest is a demonstration that, even through the turmoil that Tourette's brings, I am capable of creating.

I keep a garden journal now. Not because anyone encouraged this habit, but because I need to document progress myself. Photos of seedlings growing into massive tomato plants. Lists of what worked well. Entries about harvest dates. It's my way of proving to myself that I am something more than my diagnosis, that I have skills, that I have patience, that I can watch something through from start to finish.

In a chronic situation, these victories mean a lot.

4. Stress Reduction. The Science and The Essence of Health

The scientific literature that examines nature experience and stress is vast. It was made abundantly clear that spending time in nature reverses high blood pressure, reduces blood pressure, boosts the immune system, and even optimises mood. For Tourette patients, stress is the largest tic inducer.

I have lived this cycle numerous times: a stressful deadline looming, anxious feelings mount, tics increase, sleep patterns deteriorate, tics escalate, and anxieties about the tics multiply all of these concerns. It's a never-ending cycle.

Gardening interferes with that cycle at a number of points. Simply being outside among the plants reduces stress hormones—this is biology. But there's a non-biological aspect, something that can't be measured: the garden is indifferent to my tic mannerisms.

Plants don't glare. They don't say what they mean. They don't shoot that look that a person reserves for something they're trying to keep from being obvious from a twitch. They just grow. Tomatoes don't judge me. Zinnias don't need explanation. My garden is the only place where I can be myself.

It is a deep relief to be able to accept this.

Additionally, I have observed another interesting thing. The garden is a school where a softer way of treating time is practiced. I can't hurry a tomato to ripeness through my worries about it. I can't hurry a seed to grow through my anxieties. The garden is on nature's clock, and this is wonderfully soothing.

It's a truth that some of my worst tic days have led to my most peaceful mornings spent among the gardens. It's no panacea, but this resets something basic.

5. Routine and Structure (The Comfort of Predictable Patterns)

The most difficult thing about Tourette's is its unpredictability. Will this be a day of bad tics or a day of manageable ones? Will that social situation send my tics through the roof? Will stress make all of this worse? You learn to deal with uncertainty side by side.

It provides a thing that's even rarer than color—a predictable, meaningful structure.

Tomatoes require watering when the soil above one inch is dry. Plant lettuce in early spring and fall if you reside in Zone 6b-7a. Pinching—the process of removing tips to promote bushy growth—is necessary for basil. These aren't random rules; these patterns occur naturally, and I can learn to see them.

It's become my routine to make a quick scan of the garden each morning. It's a short walk-around, determining what watering is needed, checking for pest problems, gathering whatever is ripe, weeding a few plants. It only takes about 15 minutes, but it helps me ground myself for the rest of the day. I get something done even before I open my email or catch up on the news.

This routine offers structure without being inflexible. If I blow a day, the world won't end. If I want to adjust my schedule, that's also okay. It's steady without being punitive, exactly what I need being a person living under the neurological constraints of my own condition.

Additionally, the seasonality of gardening offers another rhythm. Planting, or indoor seed starting, happens in February. Transplanting takes place in April. Maintenance or harvest happens in June. Fall planting starts in September. Finally, planning for the upcoming garden happens in December. This is something I look forward to, something that will keep going no matter what is happening with my Tourette's.

When a situation is chaotic, these patterns serve as a beacon.

Challenges That I Don't Always Talk About

I want to be honest—gardening with Tourette's isn't always a pretty picture.

Certain days, my motor skills can make even minute tasks such as planting seedlings quite difficult for me. I can recall instances where I have damaged seedlings because of a sudden twitch of my arm. I have had instances where I dropped entire trays of seeds.

Even vocal tics in a quiet garden setting can be jarring. I have startled strangers, or passersby, who have puzzled over my inexplicable noises.

On my worst days, I just can't garden. The energy—physical or mental—simply isn't there. The garden just happens without me, and that is a humbling, oddly reassuring experience.

I share this because I think it is significant. Gardening, for me, has been a lifesaver, but it is far from a "miracle" cure. It is a tool, a practice, a place of relief and of joy, but I am, nonetheless, living with a neurological condition. It's certainly done nothing to "cure" my Tourette's.

That's enough. That's actually more than enough.

Practical advice for gardeners living with Tourette's (or lessons learned the hard way)

Start Smaller Than You Think You're Able To

My first garden was laughably small—just four tomato plants in pots on my deck. I was being conservative. In retrospect, that was absolutely ideal. Success with that quartet of plants encouraged me for the upcoming season.

Begin with one raised bed. Or even a planter of herbs on a windowsill. You can always add to what you're already growing. It's a way to prove to yourself that you can grow your own food.

Use a Plant That Forgives Mistakes

But some species of plant can be notoriously unforgiving. Orchids, for example, will call you to task for each and every mistake. Then there are those that can't help but be almost laughably easy to grow. Cherry tomatoes, zucchini, basil, marigolds, and zinnias, for example.

Begin with the forgiving ones. Boost your confidence. The fussy plants can wait until you get prepared.

Invest in Good Tools (Your Body Will Thank You)

Light weight, easy-to-grip tools mean less effort is required. Ergonomics make a difference, especially when you're already experiencing mannerisms and muscular tension. My top picks:

Hoe (long handled) – saves bending
Hand tools, Japanese type (light, strong)
Cushioned kneeling pad (game-changer)
Light watering can. It is much easier to steer.

High quality tools aren't cheap, but they really make the task easier.

Create Zones for Different Energy Levels

Certain garden chores require concentration and subtlety (transplanting seedlings, harvesting fragile herbs). Another set can be done on low-tic or high-tic days, such as weeding, watering, or mulching. I have designed my garden to pick tasks according to my mental state.

This relieves the pressure. The garden accepts me as I am, and not as I would like to be.

Create Sensory Experiences

I have planted certain species for their sensory benefit, such as:

Lavender and lemon balm to brush against (scent therapy)
Lamb's ear for its exceptionally soft leaves
Ornamental grasses whispering through the wind
Colored flowers that entice butterflies (sight stimulation, without excitement)

The garden stimulates a range of senses through pleasant methods.

Connect to Understanding Communities

Not all people understand, but finding communities, either virtual or actual, of people who comprehend the therapy of gardens as well as the truth of health condition management is a massive help.

All these reasons led to my development of GrowCommon.

Why I Started GrowCommon: Accessing Everyone to Garden

After a few years of experiencing these changes firsthand, I began to share my experiences more. People who struggled from anxiety began asking for advice. My colleague, who had ADHD, asked how to get involved. Our parenting group, whose members have autistic children, began asking for advice.

I quickly discovered that a truth about gardens is that garden therapy is a known benefit, but a lack of good information is a problem. Most books and websites about gardens assume you already know what you're doing. They're geared towards seniors who have endless time. None of them cater to folks trying to cope.

GrowCommon was a very simple concept: what if there was a gardening tool that was for people like me? People who lived in Frederick County, Maryland, who had a zone of 6b-7a who needed exactly planting dates. People who had questions that required exacting, not generalized, responses. People who had health issues that required flexibility, rather than after-thoughts.

I was trying to make something that:

Removes barriers: Plain, understandable, non-technical information
Offers local relevance: Planting schedules for Frederick County, weather warnings, adaptive varieties
Creates a Sense of Community: Networking opportunities on a platform that also understands different viewpoints
It celebrates small victories. It recognizes that sometimes, harvesting three cherry tomatoes from a backyard plant can be a monumental task.
Acknowledges challenges: Real advice for real limitations

GrowCommon is for people living with Tourette's. It's for anyone who's ever felt frustrated by modern-day gardening materials. For anyone who requires or prefers accommodations. For anyone who's found or wants to find that growing something can be a form of therapy.

It offers functions that I wish had existed when I began:

My Garden tracker: Track Your Progress & Record Your Observations!
Weather integration: Not because stress about frost is good
Plant index: Designed for Zone 6b-7a, with accurate difficulty levels
Calendar Reminders: Organization Without Convention
Community sharing: Learn from others without judging

This is for, you know, me back then, standing in the garden center, absolutely overwhelmed and wondering where to even begin, wondering if this "gardening" thing is something that can help me, but never actually knowing where to start.

If that sounds like you, welcome. You're in the right place.

Resources and Support: You're Not Alone

If you're interested in horticultural therapy, these sources were good places for me to begin:

Professional Associations

American Horticultural Association – HortTherapy.org
Tourette Association of America, Resources for alternative treatments, and lifestyle management
Local Extension Services: The University of Maryland Extension offers free gardening advice that is local to our area

Starting Your Journey

Connect locally: Look for local community gardens, therapy gardens, or garden clubs in Frederick County
Join GrowCommon: Our community is designed for this type of help
Day One: Plant a seed in a pot. Only one. Observe what happens
Talk to your medical group: Mention adding gardening to your health routine

Books that Helped Me

The Well-Gardened Mind by Sue Stuart-Smith
Garden Therapy by Megan Munoz
Grounded in Hope by Kathryn Nelson Smith and Cindy Krebs

Remember this: Gardening is a process, not a goal. It's some days better than others. You're gonna kill some plants. You're gonna make mistakes. However, each tiny step you take in your own garden, from planting a seed to pulling a weed, is a step towards improved well-being for you. Your garden doesn't give a rip if you happen to have Tourette's, anxiety, depression, ADHD, chronic pain, or whatever else is going on. It's simply happy that you're there. And being there, much to my surprise, is enough.

A Final Thought

That's the quality of that first experience, of that first July morning when I was aware of the difference—a quiet mind, relaxed shoulders, total involvement in the act of planting tomato seeds. It was just the beginning of a practice that has brought me much more than I could have imagined.

I still have Tourette's. I still have bad days. The garden hasn't cured anything. It's given me a space of my own where I belong just the way I am. Where my hands can be of service, my gaze can settle, my mind can calm. Where something is living because I am a part of its growing.

If you're looking for a place of that sort, I hope you can dig. It is waiting, and it neither judges nor condemns.

Are you ready to begin your own gardening experience? Join the GrowCommon community and find out what you can grow when you give yourself permission to start.