The Grass is Greener (Where You Water It)
The Grass is Greener on the other side Where You Water It
A reminder to nurture your relationships
By: Lexie Beckstrand
(8-10 minute read)
Say you’re in the market for a bit of lawn. You’ve been meaning to touch grass! So you find a beautiful plot of green, lush lawn, and you lay a picnic blanket down. You think, “How lovely, how green! It’s everything I’m looking for! As long as my lawn is like this, I will be content!’’ And maybe for a while, without you doing much of anything at all, the lawn remains healthy and verdant, and you are happy to have chosen it. But of course, threats to the lawn are inevitable: bugs, weather, weeds. You might realize you’re in need of a set of tools: mower, water, fertilizer. If you had wanted to enjoy the lawn without committing to its upkeep, you’d not be shocked if it became overgrown, patchy, or died. Even the yard-less among us know where I’m going: A good lawn requires maintenance. And yet, while this hardly needs spelling out (I assume a knowledgeable reader), the concept of upkeep escapes so many of us when it comes to relationships. Yard work just doesn’t elicit the same defensiveness as relationship work. I blame our egos!
People are the most excellent versions of themselves at the start of relationships. We go out of our way to remember things, to be available and enthusiastic. We might be more patient and flexible, even more forgiving. And it’s easy to do in the beginning: the dopamine rush our brains experience from novelty is a powerful factor. We want to showcase our ability to be thoughtful, attractive, and caring adults, perhaps to prove we’re worthy of connection or respect. This tendency to show up strong at the beginning of romantic relationships is especially pronounced. But a friend or partner’s traits that were written off as endearing or quirky in the early days can devolve into full-blown points of contention as time goes on, and irritations accumulate. If your girlfriend of one-month consistently leaves her shedded hairs plastered to the walls of your shower, you might chuckle to yourself as you hose them off the tile and think, “Hah! Gross!” But by month twelve, this might turn into “More proof she never thinks about me!”
How does this happen? What exactly is going on when two people who start out with mutual admiration slowly begin to…well, dislike each other? In my work as a therapist, I see that relationships become vulnerable to strain when the connection is assumed and not nurtured. Relationship fights (like hairy showers!) are almost never about the thing, but about the ‘thing underneath the thing’. And the ‘thing underneath the thing’ is often rooted in inadequate relationship maintenance. ‘Poor maintenance’ begets ‘unmet needs’, and then suddenly, the relationship infrastructure is vulnerable. When the core of a relationship feels shaky, a small irritation added to the pile will feel disproportionately significant.
It is a common misconception that if people love or like each other enough, the connection will sustain itself over time- but this is sort of like assuming your lawn is going to stay healthy and green just because it started out that way. Disconnection builds quietly. In friendships, it may come from the longer gaps of no contact and forgetting to check in. In familial or romantic relationships, it could be the tendency to stay in surface-level interactions, to avoid anything real or difficult. Let me be clear: people don’t engage in these behaviors or build these patterns maliciously. Life happens. But strong relationships require a mindset shift. If a relationship matters to you, you must actively participate in sustaining it.
Maintenance in Practice
Let’s go back to grass: it’s much easier to water proactively than try to resuscitate a dried-out patch of sod. Preventive care is about tending to something that’s alive. In the same way most work is easier with a set of tools, relationship maintenance can benefit from tools learned in a therapeutic space.
Check in with your people, even if nothing is explicitly wrong, urgent, or even if you don’t have any news to share. Did a friend cross your mind today? Send them a text.
Make the reservations, make a plan, make an effort. Invite someone to participate in something that you’ve constructed.
Address tension (with gentleness) before it becomes an entrenched pattern.
Go a little deeper: ask someone you care about how they are, really.
Make a point to remember things. Keep a note on your phone or in your planner for the special people in your life- did they mention an event, an anniversary, or a favorite food? Write it down.
Show appreciation beyond the typical milestones (birthdays, anniversaries, promotions). Be specific in your gratitude, and be specific when you share praise.
After a testy moment or disagreement, follow up instead of letting it fade. Take accountability for your role in the conflict. Be explicit that you care about the other person, even if perspectives are not aligned.
Try therapy before issues surface: either with a partner or for individual reflection.
Maintenance versus Anxious Attention
If you’ve read everything above and thought, “Not me! I am an excellent lawn-waterer!” Please be advised, there are over-waterers among us. I have killed a plant or two in my day by drowning it with good intentions. Too much water suffocates roots: there isn’t enough oxygen where there ought to be. When the act of turning toward a partner, friend, or loved one comes from a place of anxiety or panic (fear of abandonment), we may over-ask, overperform, or just overdo it. Too much attention and investment in a relationship is like overwatering a lawn: the impact is also suffocating.
I have a very dear, high-functioning friend who is an overperformer. To continue with our metaphor: this friend has acres of lawn she feels responsible for, nary a fence or boundary in sight. She struggles to see that as she sets up sprinkler systems or yanks out weeds in her neighbors’ yards, she is enabling the people in her life to simply stop showing up for their own yards. Further, her neighbors think: “This strong girl doesn’t need anything from me, she wouldn’t be doing all this work if she weren’t capable”. My friend’s dedication and consistency (ahem, anxiety) have her neighbors convinced they can count on her to do all the heavy lifting.
This friend also catches a cold or illness every three to four weeks. She experiences bouts of fatigue and irritability with no discernible root, and frequently expresses disbelief at how people in her circles seem unable to handle basic problem-solving. At this point, much of my friend’s sense-of-self is tied to ‘fixing’ things for other people. But because all she does is identify problems, she sometimes misses what's working. Finally, if she walks away or delegates some of these responsibilities, her own sense of identity may collapse. A precarious position!
Boundaries in Practice:
Instead of hinting, over-giving, or hoping someone will notice a need, just name it: “Hey! I’ve been missing you this last week. Can we plan some time to reconnect?”
Delay your ‘yesses’. Before agreeing to do something, give yourself some time. Try saying: “Let me think about that, and I’ll get back to you.”
If you’re feeling like you do all the work in a certain relationship, pause. Come up with your own counterevidence: in the last week, when did the other person show you love, care, or affection?
Practice tolerance. After setting a boundary or expressing a need, you may feel anxious and want to revisit, over-explain, or excessively soften yourself. Instead, try tolerating the discomfort. Give the other person a chance to respond.
Ground and regulate. Go for a walk, make a favorite meal, take a hot shower. Remember that self-care is the cup from which you pour for others.
Stop over-monitoring. If you catch yourself re-playing, re-reading, and ruminating on someone’s tone, text, or micro behaviors, try limiting your analysis. Remind yourself that you almost certainly do not have enough information to make concrete conclusions about how someone may or may not feel about you.
Relationships Are Not Inanimate
It is helpful to think of relationships as living entities that require both intention and attention. Whether you’re an over-waterer or under-waterer (we all tend to skew one direction), this is your reminder to honestly self-reflect about how you show up for your relationships. Maybe your core needs and the ways you express and receive love differ from those of your friends, family, or partners. That’s okay! Healthy relationships do not require personality transplants or fundamental character-change. Instead, acknowledge the differences and commit to tweaking behaviors when appropriate and reasonable. A good therapist will help you locate what that might look like.
Self-Reflection
Whip out a journal or bring these topics to your next therapy session:
What kind of relationship participant are you? Do you over-water, under-water?
What relationships in your life might need extra care from you at this moment?
What relationships in your life might require you to insert a boundary?
Where do you feel people are making an effort for you? How do you acknowledge or respond to this?
In what ways do you value being nurtured in a relationship?
