Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.
When I look back on it all, the journey that has brought me here to writing these words, I clearly understand that there was always going to be a time when I would need to grow from a place where I felt planted.
Roots need time to be nurtured, patience to grow. Time to allow their tiny fingers to twist and turn among the soil, feeding on light from the sun, nutrients from the earth, and the love of being gardened.
If you keep disturbing your roots, replanting them in different homes, different climates, different lands, they will never be grounded. Instead they will find themselves constantly adapting, longing for balance and a place to stretch their reach.
Ultimately, their growth will be stunted. They will take longer to blossom into something beautiful. Instead, they may be prone to throwing down their petals in a deadly protest.
A heavy exhausted collapse.
It took a long time for me to plant roots that I intended to grow.
This blog is a garden of short stories inspired by the journey of self discovery and personal growth.
Journeys of love.
Journeys of pain and regret.
Journeys of the harsh honesty it takes to get to know oneself.
Journeys of understanding my flaws, and learning how to love myself anyways.
This is the journey of a master chameleon who decided it was time to discover her true colours.