The one change that worked: I gave up my allotment – and accepted who I really am

I thought growing vegetables would make me a better mother and person. When I let go of that dream, it taught me that being myself was enough

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or years I had coveted having an allotment. I pictured myself being practical and resourceful, growing vegetables and cycling home with them in my wicker basket. I imagined pickling produce like my grandmother had done and becoming outdoorsy and calm – not the hot mess I usually felt. An allotment, I believed, would make me a better person with a better life.

In London it felt impossible, but when I moved back to Shrewsbury during the pandemic, I finally got one. Newly diagnosed with ADHD, I became hyperfocused on my new hobby. But beneath the enthusiasm, I was struggling to keep on top of everything that needed to be done. I found it hard to motivate myself to do the mundane tasks, such as digging up weeds, and was frustrated by all the pests that ruined my efforts. Harvesting overwhelmed me: everything was ready at once and often went to waste.

The following year, I got pregnant and experienced bad morning sickness. The plot became even wilder than the year before: bindweed took over. Even though I was struggling, pregnancy only made the dream feel more important. I envisaged being an earth mother who wore her baby in a sling while picking vegetables for dinner.