NeW GRASS *Be cAReFul

In January of 2021, I gave up drinking. Not all drinking… I’m still emotionally dependent on a steaming cup of Pike Place Roast every morning, and, knowing that the benefits of water appear to be one of the few things that the world can agree on right now, I continue to down a few glasses of that daily as well. 

What I mean is: I gave up alcohol.

Yeah, there’s a backstory that I will save for another day. Today we are going in a different direction. I will be sharing some thoughts on how growing a new patch of grass is a strikingly similar process to learning to live life without alcohol. It is my hope that, even as I talk about how this analogy applies to my own experience, you may find a few connections for yourself, even if your mountain to climb looks altogether different from my own.

My thoughts on this subject started brewing recently when I came across a photo of my four-year-old self, clearly thrilled to death with a grass-growing project I’d just undertaken.

Observe:

In light of this, below are my thoughts on:

How Making a Big Change is Like Growing Grass

NUMBER ONE

It’s NOT a big-whoop project.  Because, let’s face it: it’s grass. The main reason we homeowners decide to grow grass is that something is wrong with the grass we already have. It’s not that a new, more exciting variety of grass has caught our eye and we just. can’t. stop. ourselves! Sadly, no. It’s because we know it’s time to have what we know we should already have: a normal yard. Womp womp.

Quitting drinking feels like that. You look around, and pretty much everyone else seems to have a “normal” relationship with alcohol. (Side note: grubs live beneath lawns, not on top of them… food for thought) My point is this: there’s no big, flashy finish line at the end of this goal with a crowd of townspeople cheering for you, nor is there a Queer Eye closet full of new clothes you can’t wait to jump into every morning. It’s just you… living your same life… but without the chardonnay. That can make it hard to get started, but read on…

NUMBER TWO

You gotta let people know. Apparently, it mattered very much to my four-year-old self that EVERYONE knew there was NeW GRASS and that they should *Be cAReFul. When you’re growing grass, you can’t just assume people will know, because 1) we all know what it means to ass-u-me (BEST fourth-grade spelling tip ever… thanks Mom 😂), and 2) it’s not always that obvious; those baby sprouts are tender as heck and practically invisible.

Last January wasn’t the first time I’d decided to stop drinking over the past ten years, but it was the first time I’d actually stopped. One of the big differences this time around was that I let a few people that I loved and trusted know. I got as honest as I could with them about where I was at and what I knew I needed to do. Once that sign is posted*, it’s a lot harder to go back… 

*Note: I found that having a few carefully-selected friends/family who knew my commitment was just right. Had it been more (or, heaven forbid, a social media announcement), it could have easily backfired and felt less like support and more like pressure. Depends on the goal, I’d say. Just something to think about! ❤️

NUMBER THREE

If it’s important to you, FENCE IT OFF. If you’ve ever planted grass from seed, you KNOW that you’ve gotta fence it off. If you don’t, it’s just a matter of time before someone veers off the path and crushes those tiny seedlings. Remember… the offender doesn’t want to step on your precious project any more than you want it ruined… that fence serves a purpose for everyone involved!

In those first few months after I’d made the decision to stop drinking, I fenced my life off pretty significantly to protect my vulnerable seedling of a commitment from soooo many things. Many of the things I was protecting myself from were, in any other season, totally great in any other window! In that season, though, I knew they had the potential to throw me off my one big goal, like date nights with JT (I’d be wayyyy too annoyed at everyone else in the restaurant drinking wine - big mood killer), the entire side of Target with the wine aisle (a decent excuse to buy more Chip and Jo stuff for SURE), or meeting up with friends at night. Those things would be there when I was ready, but the fence had to stand strong while those seeds took root.

NUMBER FOUR

Some things just. take. time. There is actually a saying about how boring it is to watch grass grow… and it is SOOOOO true! All the fun stuff happens at the beginning when you’re planting grass… prepping the dirt, sprinkling the seed, fencing it off… and then? You just have to W-A-I-T.

OMG the WAITING. 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

In the early weeks of not drinking, I remember hearing that there was one thing that all sober people had in common: they didn’t drink. Day in, day out, they continued to make that one single choice that kept them on track. Like watching grass grow, you cannot rush along your first week, month, 6 months, or year without alcohol, nor can you rush the growth that accompanies these milestones. The one thing you can count on, though, is that the days will roll on. 

There will be days that fly by without a hitch, and days that you’ll want to throw your lavender-oil diffuser at the closest person’s head when asked how long until dinner’s ready. Days you’re thrilled you’ve made your decision, and days you wish you could take it all back so you wouldn’t disappoint anyone if you had just a glass. Or two…

But you can count on one thing: the sun will rise, and then it will set, and time will move forward. All you gotta do is just. hang. on and keep doing your ONE THING, whatever that one thing is. 

{A CAVEAT ABOUT GRASS}

I moved to Texas last summer from Illinois, which makes this blog, for all-intensive purposes, cross-cultural. Because of this, a clarification should be made for my southern friends about grass. The grass I am referring to is a bright green, thin-leaved, soft plant we use in the Midwest to cover our yards. Our variety creates a luxurious emerald shag carpet upon which one may choose to lay any number of precious items without fear of cuts or slices, including (but not limited to) babies, balloons, bare feet, etc… I feel I need to make this distinction because I have discovered that the “grass” here in Texas is the opposite of anything I would consider placing something tender upon (your grass is made of razor blades). For my analogy to hold, therefore, we will think of our new patch of grass as a verdant, welcoming midwestern high-pile rug. K. Just wanted to clarify…

NUMBER FIVE

It isn’t about the grass. The best part of having a healthy, green, soft yard, I’ve discovered, isn’t about the grass itself. It’s about what you can DO on the grass. That’s not something you’re able to know until you have the mature grass that’s able to handle whatever’s meant to happen on top of it.

This was a HUGE surprise to me as the months rolled by after quitting drinking. At first, it was about not having alcohol… Lots of no’s and I can’t’s and fences and waiting. But then. THEN. Then there were just things I was just there for, and things I wanted to try, in ways I hadn’t been for a long, long time. Playing board games with the kids at night. Taking Shannon to the ocean. Sketching the scenery from the middle of the Merced River in Yosemite this summer. Singing and dancing in the kitchen to make my teenagers squirm. Renovating and selling our house in Illinois. Hiking on the Appalachian Trail for a few hundred yards this fall, just to say I’d done it. Buying the house we really wanted in Texas even though it’s BRIGHT GREEN. Telling people what I love about them more frequently. Sitting with my parents whenever I get the chance. 

Somewhere along the line, my heart started to open and things got more real. Perfect? No. But there’s a lot more “yes” and a lot less “no” and definitely more shenanigans. Who would have guessed that the rewards had absolutely nothing to do with the grass at all???

Bottom line? If your heart has been calling you to make a change, it may actually be summoning you to one of life’s most magnificent treasure hunts. Plant the seed. Fence it off. Hold on tight. Get excited.

You’ve got this. ❤️

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Courage for Now

I’m thrilled to introduce my new blog, Courage For Now.

There have been some big changes ‘round these parts… 🤠 The most obvious being that we moved a thousand miles from Chicago to Ft. Worth, Texas last June. If this is news to you, you are almost certainly not alone. I meant to tell so many people about this move before we left… true story… but it all happened so fast and we were Marie-Kondo-ing our house and before I knew it, you guys, that train had just kind of left the station…

But the thing is, after forty-one years of life in my known, predictable, seasoned Midwest, we moved to the Lone Star State. This means there have been and will continue to be a LOT of new starts. Since crossing the Red River on June 26th, I’ve been slowly acclimating, all the while collecting my thoughts on what it means to dig up established roots and re-plant them in new soil, among other things.

Crossing the Red River into Texas on moving day.

There are SO many of these thoughts, of course, because things are very different here. For example, there are chickens. And Whataburgers. Also, not to dip twice into the animal bucket, but there are also these little green lizards, which are terribly cute but everyone should be aware that their tails fall the hell off if you grab or startle them.

In fact, if I were ever put in charge of writing a welcome magazine for new Texans, this is a tidbit that would be included within the first few pages, perhaps even with some kind of highlight on the front cover, because the day it happened to me was the same day I was right back on Redfin “hearting” suburban Chicago homes in our newly-depleted budget. (Moving is expensive.)

Anyway.

Starting a blog with the hope that my words may bring others a touch of courage for whatever they may be facing now feels, at best, wide-eyed; at worst, presumptuous. That said, I’ve been holding off for more than a year now, dancing with the question of whether my words will be worth their weight out there, and I’ve decided that enough is enough.

Time to start.

I’ve got my first actual post (we’ll consider this the introduction) primed and ready, so stay tuned, because it’s all about growing grass without alcohol and I’m only half-joking. 😂

I’ll be over on Instagram, too, for the daily stuff: @courage_for_now. See you there, loves!

XOXO,
Amy