It didn’t take me or Lucas very long to recognize that we could spend the rest of our lives together, yet we dated for two years before we got married because he was adamant that I needed time to think through the commitment of a ‘cowboy’s lifestyle’ before we said our “I do’s” and got hitched.
At the time, I saw nothing but adventure. Sure, there were early days, late hours, hard work and lots of dirt, but there just wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I was going to live the rest of my life with him—lifestyle and all.
Then one day I reached my 30s.
My childbearing years had siphoned my muscular strength from my body, sleeping through the night became an objective I had long surrendered, and the one bodily truth I could depend on was that my energy levels preferred to crash every mid-afternoon like clockwork.
Yet despite all that, ranch chores daily were still a thing.
It’s just now I was also feeding a family a 5 and those 5 people were at least changing their clothes 3 times a day (as to why, that mystery is still unsolved), and those clothes were always expected to be laundered at some point in the future.
One morning, I went out to feed during one of Smoke’s rare morning naps. I found myself wading through knee deep snow, baby monitor strapped to my coveralls, carrying buckets of sloshing water to a frozen stock tank, wondering if my toes had officially succumbed to hypothermia, knowing I only had minutes left before my feeble attempt at progress would be interrupted and I would be left to complete all current tasks at a later hour…of the very same day.
That’s when it hit me—son of a bitch—this is what Lucas was talking about all those years ago! This is the ‘cowboy lifestyle’ he had warned me about, and let me tell you, the adventure had lost its luster, and all I could realize was that I was NOT given an adequate amount of information to make an educated choice all those years ago…
Yes, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I began to allow myself to question my decision…not the decision to marry Lucas, but the one that chose to marry my life. For the very first time, I let myself admit that our way of life was hard, and I resented the fact that we kept making choices that were only going to make it harder.
This epiphany wasn’t overly helpful. The more I noticed the difficulty of our life, the more difficult it felt to endure. I talked about it to Lucas vaguely, but it was so uncharacteristic of me that we both kind of settled on explaining it to be a combination of a rough winter and hormones, and ultimately, those two explanations seemed to make sense in my mind.
Here’s the thing about the cowboy life, after winter comes spring, and in my opinion, spring is what makes every cowboy want to be a cowboy…green grass, brand new calves, tan lines, brandings and rewarding days of hard work that end with a round of cold beer and Capri Suns for the whole crew. Basically, it is a whole season where everything you need to do requires a horse, and the overwhelming sense of adventure is activated once again. When the nights do turn late, the smells of various cuts of beef roll off the cooktops of every grill, and friends gather to snack on salsas and recount the tales of that season’s work and the years that came before.
Therefore, my ever-growing bitterness for our life was easy to disguise for a few years. Even from myself. It adapted into more of a sarcastic anthem of annoyance for every time plans were cancelled, progress was delayed, animals would interrupt, and weekends were highjacked, and if that anthem had a name, it would’ve been entitled: Of Course.
Of course, we can’t commit to this fun opportunity.
Of course, cows are out on my way to work.
Of course, we have to work this weekend.
Of course, we have to get up early tomorrow.
Long story short, this matter-of-fact negativity did not produce good fruit in my mind, but at the time, I didn’t see it to be a problem that was within my control.
Every “Of course.” realization was like a weed I tolerated instead of pulled. A thistle I let bloom, and when the wind blew (and the winds of life ALWAYS blow) the blossoms would scatter and more thistles would spread. I told myself my bitterness was only affecting me, but when I look back, I know that my impatience and dissatisfaction for my family’s efforts towards our life’s work grew into frustration I struggled to conceal.
My resentment started making me feel trapped in the very life that I had chosen for myself, and a prison was not in the fairytale I had long imagined as a little girl. Something had to change, and directly following a very large adult temper tantrum one afternoon, I humbly made the decision that that something could possibly be…me. At the very least, I recognized that my attitude and perspective had become unhelpful, and I knew for a fact that those weeds were within my reach to pull up.
In time, additional routines and strategies were adapted to help address parts of the problem in other ways, but analyzing those areas when they were covered in prickly thistles would’ve been a more difficult and unpleasant task to accomplish.
Here’s the thing, I am all too aware that not all of life’s weeds are a result of my own doing. Some years the weeds are worse than others, and some years I may spray three times and still have to wait for a new calendar year before I can start fresh with good soil. Sometimes I can do everything in my power to pull my weeds, only to have someone close to me let theirs lie, allowing their problems to seep into mine. But this wasn’t any of that.
This was a time when I was offered a plant, didn’t know what it was, planted it, and by the time I realized what it was, I took no responsibility for the role I played in planting it. And instead of pulling it up, I watered it. I let it grow when it could’ve been pulled, and before I knew it, I was living with a whole lot more thistles than pasture, and trust me, that was a place no one wanted to be around for long…
Weeds take up precious space in our minds, space that could be used to grow something life-giving instead. And while not every weed is our fault, we can learn to recognize the ones we’ve allowed to take root and begin reclaiming the ground they’ve taken over. If you’re recognizing a few weeds of your own and aren’t sure where to start, I can help! Schedule an appointment, and let’s work together to start reclaiming some ground.