A Lesson in Yard Work: Permission to Suck
My husband has always been in charge of the outside chores, while I’ve maintained the inside of our home. Yet, as I’d scrub the kitchen counters and sanitize the toilet seats, I’d feel a twinge of jealousy that he was outdoors, working up a sweat, getting sunshine on his skin and dirt under his nails. We recently moved to a home with a cute, manageable yard, and I announced that I wanted to take a more active role in lawn care. Knowing about this desire, my parents gifted us with a battery powered lawn mower and trimmer. This past weekend I decided to inaugurate my role as landscaper in residence.
I was surprised to find this new position required more patience and persistence than I had anticipated. Several times I got my mower stuck and dug big holes in the dirt, other times I missed huge chunks of grass, and more than once I stumbled emptying the bag, dumping freshly cut scraps all over my arms and legs. I couldn’t figure out how to let more line out of my trimmer, and I got it all tangled up in a bush. As I felt the sweat, sun, and dirt I’d hoped for coating my skin, I also noticed a sinking sensation in my chest, signaling the urge to just give up and ask my husband to take over. I heard the old voice of perfectionism whispering rude comments in my ear. “Look at how bad you are at this! Let’s list some more things you do wrong! You’re an adult; you should know how to take care of a lawn. Who do you think you are? Leave the yard work to the boys!”
Instead of giving in to the unhelpful advice of my inner critic, I chose to pause. I acknowledged the impulse to quit, the thoughts of unworthiness, the hot sting of embarrassment at my perceived inadequacy. I reconnected to my values of self-development, love of learning, and playfulness. I decided to just keep trying. And ya know what? The yard doesn’t look like a professional attended to it. It looks like I did. And I’m proud of our little imperfect lawn.
This experience helped me recognize how often I bow out of activities for fear of looking stupid, or stop trying because I’m afraid of failing, or let someone else take the reins because they’re more skilled than me. Yet, the only way to improve at lawn care, like most things in life, is through experience. And if I’m unwilling to be pretty crappy at something the first 1 or 1,000 times I give it a go, I’ll never get better. As my yoga teacher, Baron Baptiste likes to say, “be willing to show up and suck until you can show up and shine!” So I wonder, what can you give yourself permission to suck at this week?
