I think too much. It’s just that. Plain and simple. I honestly think it is part of the reason mental illness found a home between my ears. I stew in my thoughts. I often can’t let them go. And things have meaning to me, a lot of meaning.
Take, for instance, mowing the lawn. Yup. It is a hot and sweaty job that makes me feel liberated and empowered.
I tried to mow the lawn for my dad when I was a little girl. He had this old riding lawn mower. And at probably 12 or so he let me try to do the lawn.
He wasn’t impressed.
After two attempts, he declared it looked like a racetrack and said I couldn’t mow it anymore.
I learned I was no good at it and that was that.
Another thing I wasn’t good at.
I tried to brush it off, but damn. I took that thought deep. I was no good at it.
Then I met the hubby. We each had our own houses when we met (obviously) and I had this little teeny tiny lawn to mow. I was paying someone but hubby had an extra mower and taught me how to start it, run it, and mow my postage stamp.
It was liberating. I loved heading out there to mow my little spot. I could do it. I didn’t need someone else for this task.
Once we got married, me mowing the lawn took a backseat as three kids came in four years. I was nursing one baby or another for 5 years, so I was kind of needed in the house.
Now, they are older and I am back outside part of the time.
I have joyfully taken on the job of mowing the lawn again.
Today, I mowed TWO lawns, while hubby cleaned the kitchen 😉 and then came out and did the trimming of the lawns.
I did it. I did a task I had been told, and told myself, that I couldn’t do. And that folks, is empowering. I feel like a million sweaty bucks.
I love my dad deeply and the anniversary of his death is coming up Tuesday. You’ll read a nice post about how much I love him, and I do, but right now, if he were here, I would choose the ever mature action of sticking my tongue out at him and saying, “I did it! So THERE!”
