The great outdoors

This past Mother’s Day weekend in Noblesville was a stunner. To me, it was the perfect weather. This brings joy to so many people, including me.

Being outdoors is the thing that can snap me out of my darkest place. It is instantaneous. Hearing the birds singing and feeling a breeze on my skin calms my nervous system in a heartbeat. Anyone else?

There are things that I enjoy about the cooler months in Indiana, such as the slower pace, but that gets daunting after a few weeks.

Summer comes with more physical demands. Lawns need mowing, flowers planted, watered and many things in between.

Each year, I feel an uncomfortable guilt as I watch my husband do most of our yard work and outdoor chores. I find myself overcompensating and desperately searching for that often-hidden self-worth.

Luckily, yard work is a true passion of his, so that helps to curb my feelings of guilt. He assures me it is exactly what he wants to do in his spare time on the weekends. Gone are the days of the tug of war between kids sporting events and getting all the things done at home.

A goal each year is to plant my pots around the yard. Up until this year, I was able to do most of that independently. This year, I am grateful I was still able to do a small plant shopping trip on my own. I felt victorious as I made it back to my car that day with my small haul of colorful plants.

These days, most solo trips out and about are built on a hope and a prayer. Precious independence slipping away much faster than I can even begin to process it. Those feelings are proving to be much more painful than I could have ever imagined. I am constantly humbled.

Saturday came, and I was ready to tackle my part in the yard. I got about three pots in and realized that I did not have the strength to do this on my own this year. I do not give up easily, but it is becoming less of a choice.

Before, I would describe my weakness like trying to move through Jell-O. These days, I would describe it as trying to move through semi-hardened cement.

In the past, I could work and push myself to my absolute breaking point and manage to get most things done in my own way. I felt proud that I could “control” that and make it happen if I needed to. My depleted body often felt “good” because it served as a reminder that I was capable. Part of me thought I would always be able to do that. If I work hard enough …

Saturday, I felt angry and disappointed in myself. I did not want to interrupt what my husband was doing to ask for help once again. I spent about an hour stewing over my dilemma and keeping it to myself. Trying to force the words out of my mouth … I need help.

There is not an easier person on the planet I could ask to help me. He is always willing to help me. He tells me I should ask for help more. He’s not wrong.

As with most things, I want to be able to do so much more than I physically can. At the end of the day, there were still several things I could do to help. I always seem to have to wade through the angst to see the light.

Focusing on what I can do releases me from the grip of failure that I often feel and opens space for new things to come my way that are more manageable.

I am learning that to enjoy life, I must let go of so many “if only” moments. Every day, it is a choice that I must make. Giving myself space and grace is important during times of physical change or loss.

I hope I will always find peace and comfort connecting to the great outdoors.

Until next time…

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Winter 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.