Once upon a time in the depths of an icy winter in Great Manchester, England a seed was planted. The earth embracing this stranger in hope. Years passed, but hope never delivered.
I am wildflower. The ill fated seedling, planted amongst a blood crimson petalhood. With their tall stemmed, silken petals caressing a delicate bud, they stand united. Honoured to be the chosen ones. Their emerald velvet leaves a watchful guardian. Suspicious of outsiders. I am an outsider. I have never been able to change that. I wasn’t made to fit in.
I am allergic to pollen, furries, and lies. Imperfect in all it’s glory.
Unable to accept life as it was prescribed- I soldiered on with this burden. I needed to experience, express, and explore. Yet, I compromised.
I never really grasped the truth until during spring, on my 35th flowering birthing ceremony, I was once again ignored. Mocked for my existence by beautiful bullies. I packed my water supply, wrapped my petals in a warm grass coat and grabbed my roots. I was on my merry way to self discovery. The petalhood’s sly hurtful jabs a bullet in my tiny heart. All, I could do was to ignore it all. I bid Mother Earth a sad farewell, her protests falling on deaf ears. I had wasted enough time waiting for change.
It was my time.
I had a desire to learn and grow, so I embarked on a spiritual journey where I found creative expression. A means to heal from my trauma. I became an educator, teaching other wildflowers to find their potential. When that no longer served it’s purpose, I again flapped my petals and went exploring. This time I travelled the world, meeting other outsiders and conducting research. However, I got homesick and returned in the hope that I could now belong with my family.
I was wrong. Again, abused and abandoned- I suffered alone with mental and physical illness. My fiery heart a victim. After a few years of some more soul searching, I once more fought for freedom. This time my middle finger an unwelcome guest. The horrified petalhood unsure what to make of this unruly outsider. I shook their core, challenged their values and beliefs. I disobeyed them. I fell in love with a sunflower and rebelled.
Now, a fully fledged counsellor, with possibilities and conviction, I left England for good. I was no longer afraid to live my life on my terms. Nothing would stop me now. I was home. I am home.
I am wildflower.
A story teller.
A creative healer.
The precious petalhood may have shunned me, but I am proud of my difference.
This is my story.
