Grass.

For those that know me, reading the title, I am sure you are thinking I am going to make a bunch of off collar remarks about marijuana. But really, this blog is about grass, real green grass that we spend a lot of time trying to mow down. And how grass resembles people.

I was sitting outside yesterday for the first time in what seems like years. Just sitting. Not doing anything while I was waiting for the burgers to cook on the grill. The kids were occupied, Kevin was reading, I was on my back step just being. It’s been a really long time since I have done that. And it felt really good and really scary. To be left alone with my thoughts, to be un-preoccupied is a very scary venture. That’s when my inner voices are the loudest. It is what I have been avoiding of late. As I was sitting on the steps I was looking at the grass at my feet. I had just walked across the lawn. I had stepped on these blades of grass and they were laying there flat and depressed from my shoe. But as I stared at them, they started moving around, a couple of them sprung back up right away, others, that were affected more by my touch, took their time, slowly bending from the root, the weight of gravity holding their tops down, until they finally were strong enough at the base to stand up tall again. I think the human spirit is a lot like grass. (Ha! Things I never thought I would say). Sometimes when something crushes that grass for a long time, parts of it die, but once that painful barricade is removed, the grass grows again, standing tall, not always the same, but still growing. I think when we are injured, emotionally or physically, we are a lot like that too. We stay down, sometimes shortly and sometimes for long periods of time, until our core is strong enough to let us stand tall again. 

Nosy?

I have a person in my life, someone I have known from the beginning, who wants to know every detail of my life and wants me to talk about deep personal things every time I see them. And usually when I see them, it is a day that is not a day I want to think about deep personal issues. It is a day of celebration or good family time. But they don't get it and I am not able to tell them in a way that is not hurtful. It makes me want to not talk to them at all. I don't want to be asked the questions I don't want to answer. It was recently pointed out to me during one of these incidents by a third party, that all this person was really looking for was a good story about vacation or something to help gauge how the trip really was. But I was incapable of understanding it. I am incapable of saying, I had a good time on vacation, because all the great stuff is tainted now. Its just the way it is. And having to relive these things on demand is too much for me to handle, so I avoid it all together. The thing I try to do most is not think, not feel. Its quite exhausting. There is this very powerful river flowing deep below in my emotional state. I can only stick my toe in every now and then, because it is just too powerful. I am not only afraid it will whisk me away and I may never come back, but I am also afraid it will drown me. It is just too painful. I don't want to dip into it at all. And I think its unfair for people to assume that I want to just so they can feel better about themselves. So they can rest their minds that they asked and that everything is wrapped up in a pretty little package and I will be ok. I will not be ok, not ever. They get to go back to their world where they can occasionally think of me and shake their heads about how sad and tragic it is. I don't get to go anywhere. I have to live here.