Mowing the Lawn

Disclaimer:  This will be a depressing post filled with a fair amount of whining.  There could be some swearing too.  Just a little heads up for you more sensitive snowflake types.

I cry when I mow the lawn.

There.  I've admitted it.

This is not an occasional truth, for it happens every time I start up the mower.  It is, though, a rather recent phenomena.

I've been spending a fair bit of time pondering this development and I'm starting to grasp why a crying jag might accompany my yard work.  And as often as I mow the yard it's a damn good thing I'm getting it figured out!  There's still 3 more months of weekly mowing to consider and I think I could get dehydrated.

I used to like mowing the lawn.  It was a chore I could complete with little interference from any children and once it was finished no one could mess it up.  I liked the sense of accomplishment I felt when I finished.  It was a break from the regular house stuff I was always doing and a way to get outside and use a few muscles.  I really did enjoy it.

But now, now it feels like one more task that needs to be checked off my never-ending list.  It's an unwelcome burden now.  That, then, is the first reason I cry.  Mowing has become just another detail that I must attend to and I'm tired.  In my world the more tired I am the better the chance for emotional incident.

Another thing I used to like about mowing the lawn was how the monotonous nature of the task gave me ample time to think about life.  My life, Bill's life, the kids' lives, the neighbor's lives--you get the idea.  I would use the time to consider my options about any upcoming decisions I might need to make.  Or I would think about rearranging or redecorating a room (I was always having babies during this time so I was pretty much always in need of reconfiguring space!).  I even planned meals and vacations and running routes while I mowed.

To put it simply, I think when I mow.

Aha!  And now when I think, I think of crap.  What should've.  What could've.  How I need to.  These thoughts chase me around the yard like a pesky May fly, torturing me with their persistence and never letting me forget their presence.  So there's the next reason I cry--just thinking about how much my life has changed and how much I dislike it.

Now, before anyone starts lecturing me about needing to have a better attitude and, my all-time favorite, "getting over it"  let me tell you a few things.  And this might read offensively or harshly.  Yeah, but I don't care.  There is no getting over it.  Doesn't matter if I'm talking about my shit show life or your divorce or disappointment or job loss or death or illness.  Doesn't matter at all.  You never (and I do mean never) get over any of it.  You just assimilate.  You just figure out how to do the next thing.  You don't forget or "move on".  What the hell does that even mean anyway?  Move on to what?  Where?  Who?  You just get up and do the next thing.  Notice that I didn't mention anything about happiness or cheerfulness or gratitude.  Sure, I think those things probably come around eventually.  But it's mostly bullshit to expect anyone to follow a prescribed pattern of understanding exactly how to function after a traumatic upheaval in their life.  Is there a chart somewhere that I've not had access to?  Something like this:

Death:  16 months to get over it
Disease:  6 months  to get over it
Job Loss:  3 months to get over it
Divorce:  12 months to get over it

Time, people.  What everyone needs is time.  Plain and simple.

And your time is probably different than my time and neither one of us is wrong.  To judge a person on their walk through life is not only mean, it's also the worst example of arrogance.  Is one person so omniscient that they can command another how to "get over it" or when to "move on"?  Judging feels that way to me.

Circling back around, I do know that I won't always cry when I mow the lawn.  With time, it will just be another task that I complete.  I might even like it again.  I see it, albeit far away, but I do know it's waiting there for me somewhere down the road.  Until enough time passes I guess I'll just embrace the tears and feelings and let them do their thing.  God knows that ignoring them or pushing them away does not work.

Time.  It is the only healer.  It is also the only equalizer that captures us all eventually.