Nobody's Girl - Michelle Wright
Flesh and bones, rock of ages and a rolling stone.
It is difficult to think of one person as being static like a rock that refuses to move over the years and kinetic at the same time. But it is possible and in fact in the right combination probably preferable. Think of the steadfast rock as the authoritarian, the black and white opinionated self, the personality that reminds us the difference between right and wrong and shows us the better path. The rolling stone is half-hazard, there is no clear direction or destination. If an obstacle is encountered, the rolling stone hits it with force that may send it airborne unknowing where it will land. It is liberal and liberating. This kind of fun can help us lead an exciting and rewarding life - but in moderation.
But like flesh and bone, both are capable of breaking and becoming less than their former self. Even the biggest granite boulder can be reduced to rubble by an earthquake or a chisel hammered into the right spot can shatter it. There are always fractures and weak spots that can be exploited. But while it may be harder to fracture that rolling stone, the characteristics of it may be smoothed on it journey and it may not look like it once did. Similarly our exterior can change with bruises that can be healed or scars that stay forever. But let us not forget that deep inside our flesh there can be wounds that can not be seen and take much longer to heal...if ever.
Consider the new born baby, perfect and beautiful with a clean slate, loved unconditionally and protected from the dangers by the family that has welcomed it home. Unquestionably the family is the biggest influence in how this babe will view the world and react to the experiences it must deal with. In a home filled with love, the view of humanity and situations will be loving, kind, caring and compassionate. There will be a harmonious balance of static and kinetic, guidance and freedom. That baby will grow up to be self-confident, self-assured and accepting of others.
On the other hand if we teach that infant that we are better, that they aren't worthy, stupid, unfit, incapable. They will live their life that way. The abused become the next generation abusers. It is all they know, all they have been taught. But like a flower that has been pulled from the ground and trampled on, we can be transplanted to a place of sunshine and treated with love can once again thrive.
I am that flower.
I had love. I had good soil to allow my roots to hold onto, shade to protect and shelter me, I was allowed to blossom and be whatever color I wanted to be. I was encouraged to be unique and beautiful in my own right. I was thriving and proud. My character and will were strong.
And then one cold day in March, I was ripped from the ground, my roots were snapped and as I felt death come upon me I was transplanted to grow on my own. All I had was a clump of poison ivy to shelter me. As time passed, my stem began to bend as I hid from the sun because I no longer felt worthy of enjoying it's beauty or warmth. I forgot what it felt like to be loved unconditionally since I did not experience it anymore. I learned that almost every other flower in the garden was better than me, that nobody really wanted to pick me for their bouquet of life. I was just a weed. I had two choices. I could allow myself to wither and die or I could find a way to live alone. The poison ivy had done an admirable job convincing me that I would never be good enough or wanted by anyone else. I learned to accept mistreatment, verbal and emotional abuse without question and that it was deserved.
I took that one root that I held on to from birth - stubbornness - and went with it. I planted rocks around me so no one would ever get close enough to hurt me again. I opened up to show my true beautiful colours only when it suited me and I felt safe. I couldn't trust that I wouldn't be ripped from the ground again. I lost a lot of top soil with the tears I wept for my genetic mate (my brother). But he left me with a stake to hold me strong and a resolve to keep going. He taught me to carve paths so that other beautiful flowers could grow around me so I wouldn't be alone. I heeded his advise and the poison ivy was soon cut down.
Tending to the blossoming flowers in the beautiful garden of my life, I forgot about the roots of the poison ivy and before I could stop it, the evil started sprouting roots. Standing tall in my own Garden Of Eden, they see me as a target. They see strength but they don't see the support I am hiding with my leaves. They see defiance in the silence that is choking back the tears. They see the beauty that surrounds me and they don't like it. They pick up the rocks that have been my protector and throw them at me. My stem bends and I fall. The rocks keep coming, not once do I tell them to stop. Not once do I show my pain. But I stand and let them do it again as I offer an apology.
Please know that if you are even a tiny sprout of poison ivy in my garden, you don't have a right to hurt me. I may have learned to accept mistreatment without question but that doesn't mean that you should take advantage of it. Add even roses that I love to have decorate my garden come equipped with thorns that can be used to hurt!
I am not alone, there are other weeds like me. There are other gardens like mine. There is more poison ivy. There are more roses that will hurt before they protect you.
I may be Nobody's Girl, walking the road alone, on my own in this world but I can call my soul my own. You can never break that!
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