Watering The Wrong Seeds

I have to admit.  I have killed a lot of plants.  I am horrible with plants.  And most always the reason that those plants died is because I have been overloving and over watering them.  I am afraid they may get too dry and die.  Truth is they die because I give them too much water.

My life story is that I watered the wrong seeds.  I watered the seeds that grew into weeds and those seeds were the ones that were planted into my mind.  They started small then became a jungle because those seeds, when watered, grew like wild flowers.

The danger in growing wild weeds and flowers and jungles, is when you stop watering them, they may well die, but so do many other beautiful flowers around them.  If you don’t know how to decifer a weed from a flower you kill both.

I’m still learning this lesson.  I still now and again over water a plant and kill it and it makes me sick.  But I also learned how to keep some alive.  This in respect to true plants, and also learning how to do this with my mind seeds and flowers.

When I stopped being bulimic, I also stopped a lot of things.  I stopped worrying about what people thought of me, or the expectations they had of me.  But I also stopped worrying about who I wanted to be.  I even lost all expectations of my own life, which was not so bad in a way, because they were mostly what others expectected of me.  But my own goals in life, no matter how simple they may have been, were not even alive.  They lay dormant with all the other dead seeds.  They were still there, but they weren’t nurtured because I was too afraid that if those flowers grew, so too would the weeds around them.

So many thoughts.  I realized that no matter what I did in life, I would never change how my parents felt about me, or where I stood in their heart in comparison to my other sisters.  Even if they made it a competitive world between the four of us, it didnt’ matter if I was a doctor or a bumb on the street.  I would always be the #3 in their heart from the day I was born.  Nothing I did, in fact, really made them more proud then when I sank to the bottom and then stood up again and made a life for myself again.  They seemed more proud of that then any previous achievement I had in my life that I so worked towards to make THEM happy.  It didn’t matter.  I was always going to be #3.

I have recently been replanting my garden.  I have a new plot that has new soil.  In that garden I am planting what makes me happy.  It’s not to get praise from my parents anymore, or from a husband, or from anyone for that fact.  And if one of the plants I planted dies, it’s okay, because I know other ones will live.  I will learn how to care for them in time.  I will not over water them, and I will not over feed them.  I will do my best, and see what comes of my garden.

And in that garden is a place to sit and watch and enjoy.  And invited to that garden are people who will not judge the flowers that are not doing well, and enjoy the ones that are.  And even more so, enjoy my company and me theirs watching the garden grow.

My thumb may not be truly green, but at least it’s not all brown anymore.

Live, Love, Happiness

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