photo by me

He said that he’d like to see me blossom, become more comfortable around people. He wanted me to come out of my shell, expose myself a little more.

I wonder if he understood how difficult that was for me. I wonder if he understood what trust meant or the power of the words he said to me. I wonder if he realized, then, that I wanted to blossom if only to make him smile…and maybe make myself smile, too.

I reached out to him, wanting to blossom beneath his gaze. I wanted to watch him watch me open up.

I wonder if he understood that without nurturing care, it’s difficult to blossom. When you pour harsh words over struggling petals, they want to curl back inward and close up again. I wondered, again, if he understood the power of his words.

–

In May, I lost a job. In June, I lost a friend and someone I thought I’d have a future with. In September, I got cancer. I gained weight. I became depressed. I lost track of me.

In May, I got a job. In August I started graduate school. In October, I got a better job. I started working out again. I went out with friends (and even invited 20 or so over to my hermit cave for a BBQ). I realized that I had never lost me but that I had scurried back into that cocoon where I feel safe.

–

I could wallow. I could say “why me?”

And I came *that* close to doing just that. The cancer was the final straw. I couldn’t take anymore. I was tired and scared and felt alone. The physical pain diminshed but the emotional pain would not leave.

I came *that* close to screwing things up. I lost sight of what is important to me because I wanted to stay in the warmth of that cocoon.

A funny thing happened, though. I realized that I wasn’t alone.

I’ve said, over and over, how much my brothers are always there for me. And they didn’t disappoint me this time. They are my foundation.

But there is more. People I have never met reached out and gave me strength, let me know they were thinking of me.

People I had just met in the last few months reached out, letting me know that they were there for me, to help me. My student workers were amazing – sending me thoughtful e-mails, giving me a card, offering to pick things up at the store for me.

People called…just to see how I was.

My professors have been amazing. Supportive, encouraging, and patient with me in my recovery.

I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring. I call myself anti-social. I tell people that I don’t like people much – mostly because I don’t understand people much. Partly because I don’t know who to trust. Partly because I want to trust everyone. Partly because they scare me. Partly because I want them to love me.

–

I’m done. I can’t allow the pain, emotional or physical, to stop me from living, to stop me from reaching goals that I set for myself 25 years ago.

–

I want to say to him, “Look at me. I am blossoming. Life may drench me in rain and then scorch me in heat but I survive. I push through and open my petals to the experiences.”

I want to say to him, “Don’t hide away from the world. Embrace it yourself. Open yourself up to new experiences. Trust that people will stay by your side even when you push them away.”

And I want to say to him, “Be careful with what you say. Your words have power. They mean something.”

And I want to wish him the glory of life. And I want to wish him joy. And I want to wish him peace.