25 Things I wish You Knew: I AM Fragile

It was not too long ago, that if you asked me, I would have told you that I was fragile like bomb. Two years ago, that was probably true. I would not let anyone near me. I was afraid of letting someone get close and hurting them, because of what I had been through. I was afraid of being hurt because I didn't know how much more I could take. I wanted people to be afraid of being anything less than gentle. You tend to be very careful about your movements when you are around a bomb that hasn't gone off yet.

Those who knew me, several years ago, might have said that I was "Feral". I was much like a stray dog, hungry, wanting love, but hurt and feeling backed in a corner. I knew that I was fragile, then. Some days, this is still me. What I didn't know was that not all people are unsafe. It took a lot of patience from one family, when I was in college, to get close. 

They didn't know that the abuse was still going on. They didn't know that when I went 'home' on the weekends and on breaks, I was still being trafficked. I met this family at a church. I went in, not wanting to be seen but when I say they saw me, they saw me. They greeted me and invited me to sit with them. I declined. Twice a week, for two months I declined. They never gave up. When I finally accepted the offer, they invited me to have lunch with them. Again, I declined. They offered every week, until I finally accepted. Then, they invited me to their family game night. I declined for a couple of weeks, still sitting with them on Sundays and Thursdays. I still had lunch with them every other Sunday. One week, I accepted the invitation to their family game night. This pattern continued for two years. Eventually, I stopped going 'home'. I spent my school breaks in the safety of their home, when I was not allowed to stay in the dorms. 

It was not until a month, or so, ago, that I learned what I truly am...what all people are. I am fragile, but not like a bomb. I am fragile like a flower. This is our first year, gardening and who knew that this age old chore could teach so much?

A flower begins as a seed and finds itself in the dirt. It may have been gently placed there by caring hands, or landed there by a wild ride on a bird, animal or insect. Plants need care: food, water, sunlight and pruning. The sun is the hope that gets the seed through the darkness. The plant also gets it's nutrients from the soil, but hope keeps it growing. Too much hope, leads to expectations that cannot be reached and it is devastating.

There is "good soil" and "bad soil". Good  soil has everything that the plant needs. No rocks. Plenty of nutrients. Bad dirt is neglected ground. The plant can still grow but it will have to work so much harder to get even a fraction of where the better soil- plant is. 

Water is essential. Too little, the plant dies. Too much, the roots begin to rot and the plant dies. This all seems very, "what's the point". The point is balance. The perfect balance will help any plant to thrive, in any circumstance. The end result is a beautiful flower, vegetable or fruit. The result is beautiful and unbelievable that something so small could survive so much wind, rain, ice, drought, unkept soil...and it becomes so beautiful that we forget the work, the care and everything that flower went through. 

I am not fragile like a bomb. There was a time where I was unstable. I was afraid. I wanted everyone to be afraid of hurting me, again. 

I am not fragile like a bomb. You do not need to be afraid of me.

I am fragile like a flower. I need care and guidance. I need balance. I need you to appreciate everything that I have been through and the hard work that I have put in to get to this point, right here. I need you not to compare me or set expectations that I can grow into a plant that was placed in "good soil", with all the right care. If you have these expectations, you will be disappointed and become angry with me. Then, I will lose you. I need a little more care because life hasn't been easy. I need you to not give up. To not push too much, but don't stop offering. 

There is the balance. In your offering to sit with me, have a meal, do/go to an activity together, I can see you try. I can see you reaching out and that "feral" part of me has a choice. I will probably refuse the first time, just don't push it. Offer again, at a later time and eventually, I will accept. I need you to be the gardener, because I don't have the tools, on my own, to grow. I don't know how to use a rake, or work the hose. I don't know which parts are dead or keeping me from growing. I don't know...but you do. 

I am not fragile like a bomb. I am fragile like a flower. I need care. I need my past to be respected, not forgotten. I need balance.