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Everything else that’s bothering me – my confusing love life, fruitless apartment hunt, an impossible job search – it can all wait.For whatever reason, it’s weed killer that’s on my mind, because it’s what makes me feel like there’s a rock lodged in my throat obstructing my ability to breathe.I daydreamed about surprising him on Father’s Day with a Costco-sized bottle of Killex wrapped in a giant bow, a smile spreading across his face as he sprayed it over the lawn, just like the good old days. * * * According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, Generalized Anxiety Disorder is characterized “by persistent, excessive and unrealistic worry about everyday things.” Anxiety wasn’t a new feeling for me.
So every time he asked, I made up excuses as to why I couldn’t bring any back. ” and then, “I’ll be too busy to find a Home Depot! My dad is the type of guy who asks for little and expects less – one Christmas I got him a giant garbage can and he was genuinely elated.
When carcinogenic lawn sprays were outlawed in Ontario, my father’s quest for the greenest patch on the block had me dallying in cross-border smuggling—and helped me get to the bottom of my lifelong anxiety.
I’m in my therapist’s office in Downtown Toronto, and all I can talk about is weed killer, the magical elixir of pesticides and other carcinogenic wonders that transform brown rotten grass into velvety green carpets.
Each spring, my dad would happily take Killex (his weapon of choice) out of the garage, attach the lime green canister to the garden hose and spray his weed-and-pest-infested lawn until the yellow patches disappeared.
He would be out there every Sunday morning, long before the rest of the family was up, tending to the lawn.