Meet Eric: my new indoor potted chamomile bush. We are now a family unit.

I know you may think this is a parody, or a comedic post, but it’s not, really. It’s quite a milestone, because it signifies the subtle shift in my life: I am moving from a place of isolation and learning how to self-care, to a place of being able to consider, nurture and care for another living thing.

If you consider that this time in 2011 I was incapable of holding on to my job, my sanity or to care for anything other than how to get that next hit of crystal meth, it’s a huge change. Huge.

‘Growing up’ – like parenting – lacks a manual, so we have to figure these things out for ourselves. Especially when our parents skipped a couple of life lessons, here and there. Eric is a step in the direction of growing up. Properly.

Easy does it!

© Dave Luis 2014. All Rights Reserved.



      1. Um. I’ll have you know, my brother once grew a 60 cm carrot because he talked to his plants. NO REALLY.

        Talking to plants is a good thing.

      2. Haha! No! EVERYTHING I own is called Eric…when you do a Bluetooth device search in my home, you’ll find Eric the iPhone, eRik the iPad and Eric the MacBook… Only #RubyLove is not Eric…

    1. Cheers! I know it seems silly (that’s my “codependency reducing my feelings” at play) but it’s a big deal for me… Thanks!

  1. My dogs were the same for me. I got the first one right after spending 3 weeks in a psych ward, battling depression, facing demons and so on. I don’t think the little bugger will ever quite understand what he means in my life. The second was a gift from my boyfriend, and no less significant. He signified a shift in both our lives, lives where we’d made a decision to stay alive, and to not only commit to one another long-term, but commit to this little body (which contains the biggest spirit and soul I’ve ever encountered) because Dachshunds live to the ripe old age of 15 (most commonly 10-12, but 15-18 is not unheard of). I
    Yours may be a plant, or a rock, or a lizard named Spock, but it’s a step, well-fucking done for getting there, because I know it’s a big, hard, sweaty, ugly step to make.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.