And I’m not talking about when you’re just thrown a little off balance here. I’m talking an epic, ironic, scar-rendering type of trip up. This weekend, I accidentally tripped over and into a whole mess of crappy feelings and emotions that I never intended to fall into. It leaves me feeling embarrassed. Ashamed. And a whole variety of other things. These are feelings that don’t sit well with me.
I don’t have a lot of self confidence. I can fake it with the best of them, but dig even just a little and it’s there under the surface. In the last few years, I’ve seen myself blossom. It’s a slow process.
Imagine a rose bud late to bloom. Perhaps it is scary and painful to unfurl it’s petals? Every petal that it slowly loosens from it’s core is deliberate and carefully allowed to open. When it does fully bloom, it is sure to be truly breathtaking. But imagine, that as it slowly opens, petal by petal, someone comes along. Do they encourage it? Bloom little flower, it’ll be ok. Or do they shut it down and encourage the flower to stop it’s bloom? To do that would most certainly leave a scar. Maybe the flower will be strong enough to withstand, and maybe it won’t.
Thanks to my embarrassment, I’m suddenly scared. I let my walls down enough to take a chance on something. The last time I did this, it didn’t go well. And sure enough, again, this time… big flop. Anxiety levels raise. Is it me? Maybe I’m not that rose after all? Perhaps there is no bloom. But if that’s true…sigh… sits quietly for a minute… it can’t be true. I refuse to believe that. I have seen far too much, experienced so much pain, and yet, so much beauty. From the outside, and from within myself. I have seen miracles. I am that rose. And to those who pass by… ignore me or encourage me, but please… please do not tell me not to bloom.