What My Mint Plant Is Trying to Tell Me...

About a month ago, I bought a mint plant at the supermarket. You know, one of those herb plants you find in the produce section, with about eight long stems covered in leaves, all crammed into a flower pot that’s way too small—so you know your plant is bound to die within a week. Those plants. And since I’d been through this many times in the distant past (and just kept buying a new plant every week, go figure...!) it seemed wise to me now to immediately repot that little mint plant into a large flower pot and place it on my balcony. Of course, I only did this after I’d already cut off a lot of mint (which I used to make yummy iced tea, by the way!), so the stems weren’t nearly as long as they used to be.

I expected that, once the plant was in fresh potting soil, the stems would grow quickly. Unfortunately, nothing could have been further from the truth. It took a while, and then some more time, and then even more time... as if nothing at all was happening. Even three weeks later, there were still no long stems, and I wondered what was going on with Miss Mint. So I decided to take a closer look. And what did I find? She had been working very hard for those three weeks, but everything had happened “underground,” hidden at first glance from the less observant (me, that is). Inside the pot itself, you could see an incredible number of new stems, roots that already seemed to be poking out, and simply a very thick ‘bush’ of mint branches. It’s just a matter of waiting—a long wait, as it turns out—until I can truly reap the rewards and cut off all those stems to make fresh (iced) tea.

I realized that the way my mint plant grows is also the way I’m in recovery today, but that just a year ago, things were really completely different.

When I entered recovery more than five years ago and started my Twelve Step work, I was like a plant that grew very quickly and even seemed to bear a lot of fruit, but ultimately died anyway. I did a lot, right from the start. Working the Steps with my sponsor, attending meetings every day (on the computer, so an hour of Zoom stimuli, because I “really wanted to do it right” and simply participating via smartphone without video wasn’t an option for me), and right away also service. Chairing meetings, being a tech host in Zoom meetings, screen sharing, and later also serving as secretary of my in-person meeting, delegate from my local group for Flanders, later also delegate from Flanders in our European region, starting new meetings, translating literature, having way too many sponsees (women I sponsor), giving online workshops, etc., etc. I shot up like a rocket and bore a lot of fruit, and in exchange I got a good feeling (because helping people and being of service just feels really, really good!), a lot of admiration, and a body that was completely exhausted and eventually gave up. That happened exactly one year ago, in May 2025. I was just done. I was tired, utterly exhausted, and remained that way until October. I had brain zaps and I was dizzy. My whole body was screaming: STOP. And at that point, I had no choice but to listen to it. For the four years prior, I’d been able to ignore it a little. “It’s just fatigue, a day of rest and I’ll be back on track” or “I have a free weekend now, and after that I’ll be fine again.” That didn’t work anymore, and I had to rest. From late May to mid-October, I took it very easy (which my wonderful Five Year Diary is quietly starting to remind me of, by the way).

What did I notice after I started taking it easier? That the world keeps turning even without me. Crazy, huh? Reports were simply typed up by someone else, and meetings functioned perfectly well without my presence. What I also noticed was that a greater sense of peace settled into my soul, making me suddenly a much gentler and kinder aunt, sister, daughter, friend and sponsor. And I also began to enjoy my own company more. Today I experience serenity and joy, I spend much more time with God, and I enjoy no longer feeling the need to be seen by everyone all the time by working my butt off. No, I am loved for who I am, not for what I do.

Over the past year, just like with my mint plant, a lot has happened underground. I no longer bear “crazy fruit,” but I have developed deeper roots. Because of this, I have also become more open to what God actually wants for me. It’s as if there first had to be good, sturdy roots before the fruit could grow. That fruit is different today than it used to be. Less “grand” (no more European conferences), but much more right for me. I do things that are good for me and for others, and no longer just the latter. At first glance, it isn’t impressive, but actually it is, because my “foundation” is more solid. No more long, empty stems, but short, full stems with flavorful leaves. Because what I do is given by God, and is therefore right. No more brain zaps, dizziness, or fatigue. But peace and restoration, thanks be to God.