When I was around eight years old, I learned about the process plants go through when they grow from a seed. I did little experiments to see how they grew under different conditions. I placed seeds in clear containers... some with just wet paper towels, some with rocks, some with sand, some in nothing but water, and some with soil. I was able to watch the growth process and learned hands on what worked and made a plant grow. I was fascinated with seeing the seeds break open and watching the roots come out and begin to stretch themselves out and take hold. Of course, some of them only grew to a certain point. The ones that I placed on wet paper towels opened and branched out, but not having soil to expand into, they died. But not before I got a really good look at the beginning of the growth process. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. My mom had a garden in the back yard and I started helping her tend to it. I learned to spot weeds, when it needed watering and so on. I decided to plant something of my own. I didn’t have any seeds or seedlings from my experiments left, so I decided to ask my mom for some seeds. I didn’t care what they were, I just wanted to make something grow. She promised that the next trip into town, we would pick me up some flower seeds that I could plant along the front walk leading to our front door. I didn’t have much in the way of patience back then. I didn’t want to wait a few days... Then I thought of it! Every week, we had family movie night and we made popcorn to go with it! SEEDS!! I asked my mom if they would grow and she said she didn’t think so, but we could find out. She pulled the big bag of popcorn kernels out of the freezer and gave me a handful.
Feeling victorious, I ran outside, grabbed a trowel and the watering can and got my hands in the dirt. I was going to make something grow! In my mind, we would have popcorn for life! I carefully planted the seeds along the walkway and gave them a nice dousing of water. I knew it would be a few days before they pushed their way through the soil, so I went out and checked them each morning. Finally, they sprouted! I ran and got my mom and showed her, she smiled broadly and said I’d done a good job. I was so very proud and began planning my future as a farmer.
A few days went by and I walked out to see my crop, and found that the plants had been cut back! I called my mom out to the front yard and said something had happened to my plants. She looked at them and pointed out that they were still alive and growing. I asked her what happened to them, and she told me that my dad probably cut them, not knowing what they were. I realized that we hadn’t told him about my project, so I would have to let him know.
Then I forgot to tell him. A few more days later, I woke up to the faint sound of the lawnmower running. MY POPCORN!! I jumped out of bed and ran outside just in time to see my dad run over my crop... and he was going for the gusto! He ran back and forth over them and he looked determined and downright vindictive about it. I literally screamed on horror! “DADDY STOP!!”
He looked up at me in surprise and turned off the mower. In tears, I ran down the steps and over to where he stood and fell to my knees and ran my hands over my butchered plants. My father’s surprise dissolved into confusion and concern.
“What’s wrong babygirl?” he asked.
I tearfully answered, “You killed my popcorn!”.
“You ran over my popcorn plants with the mower!” I pointed to where they were planted.
“Popcorn? I’m sorry babygirl! I thought they were weeds!” I looked up at him and saw pure guilt on his face. He was mortified. “I didn’t know. I never would have run over them if I’d known.” He knelt down next to me and looked at the mutilated plants. “I’m so sorry.” He hugged me and wiped the tears off my face.
“I forgot to tell you,” I sniffled. He hugged me again and offered to buy me some flower seeds to plant along the walk and assured me that he wouldn’t harm them in any way. I planted marigolds and zinnias, and I planted more popcorn in my mom’s garden... Those were the first and last plants I would ever grow successfully. I have the proverbial black thumb. I can’t even keep a cactus alive. I had one for two weeks and it died. I even tell people not to give me plants because it’s not fair to the innocent plant.
Many years later, I would be diagnosed with my mental disorders. It was something else I didn’t tell my dad. I didn’t tell my mom either. Not right away. I had gotten into the habit of only telling them what they wanted to hear. Since I didn’t understand my disorders, I didn’t talk about them. As I discovered who I am, both in the realm of my mental illness and outside of it, it got harder to tell them what was going on with me. Since I didn’t tell them how much I had fallen apart, they didn’t know what not to say or do as I was going through the painstaking process of putting myself back together. They said a lot of wrong things, completely not knowing that it was hurtful and even set me back in my recovery. The more they hurt me, the more that I kept from them. I was literally fighting for my life, and they didn’t know it. My point, and I do have one, is that you can’t expect people to know the things that you don’t tell them. In the years since, I have tried to tell them more about who I am, and my relationship with them is a struggle towards open communication, but there is so much they still don’t understand because I didn't opt to bring them along on my journey. As a result, they will always only have part of the picture.
People who care about you will say the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time and it is painful. But do they have all the information? I barely spoke to my parents for several years BECAUSE they didn’t have all the facts. When it comes to your recovery or anything important or life-changing, talk about it. There are people you love who are only working with small pieces of information, and don’t have the whole picture. The new flowers you are planting haven’t grown into something others fully recognize, and might look foreign to them. Tell your story. Advocate for yourself. Your path is your own, and it’s unique to you... so just don’t let anyone run over it with a lawnmower.
