Wild and Free

May 28, 2016

Three days ago, I realized why I have always felt that I needed to be strong. I have always carried a heaviness in my heart, feeling like no one cares and that's why no one supports me.

When I was little, my uncle had babysitting duties so that my mom could go out. As I sat in my room, I watched a TV show. I wasn't being monitored so I turned to any channel that I wanted. This particular movie showed a women, in her bedroom, sitting at her vanity, looking in her mirror with tears rolling down her face and a pair of scissors in her hand. As she continued to cry, she preceded to cut her hair  with intention and hurt. It intrigued me so much, that after the scene of pain, I found a pair of scissors. I went into the bathroom and stood up on a stool so I can see my reflection through the mirror. As I imitated the crying eyes, and hurt filled face that I studies on the TV screen, I held up the scissors and cut my braid. Wow!! I didn't think it would come off!!! As I ran to show my uncle what I had done, the only thing I could remember is the painful strikes of the belt, the feeling of the blood peaking out from my wounds and the confusion of why? I wasn't bad. I didn't do anything wrong. I just needed help putting my braid back on.

When my mom came home, of course I ran to tell her what my uncle had done and to tell my story. My mom would be able to put my braid back on. My mom will come to my defense and protect me. But she did nothing. She didn't let me explain. I couldn't get the words out to tell her the whole story, as my uncle took over the conversation and  looked at me with eyes of righteousness. So I quietly went to my room, in tears, never to talk about it again.

From that day on, I lived stuck in that sad mirror, trying not to do anything that would make anyone angry with me, trying not to show my scars of the mirror. I didn't ever want to feel that pain again and I didn't want anyone I knew or who I came in contact with to feel pain. So I lived my life as a warrior for the broken-hearted. I defended the week and fed the hungry. I kept the peace at all cost by doing whatever you like, just as long as you didn't get angry with me.

Three days ago I wrote this and saved it. Three days ago I droved by a field of flowers that I suddenly noticed on my way to work. It felt as though they were waving at me as their white flowers moved in the slight breeze, looking like miniature flags.

Today, I had to stop. At 5:30am, while the dew was still in the air I felt the cool breeze blow in the direction that I was walking. As I got close, by my surprise it was a filed of Chamomile flowers!

They were so beautiful while looking wild and free. As I gave thanks to them for their beauty and for calling me into the wild, I gathered some to make a flower essence.

 

I knew that Chamomile is good for relaxation and stress, but what I didn't know is that it is also used for childhood traumas. As the tears flowed down my checks and my spirit twirled dancing in love, I listened to their message to me, whispering, "surrender to forgive".

Now I'm Free in the wild. Glass broken, wounds healing.

 

 

 

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