Hello and welcome to Tender Blossoms Blog, a blog about life and moving forward.
I believe we are all tender blossoms. As adept to pain as a sore, bruised shoulder after a fall. With as much potential as the bulbs of a Tulip, on the verge of emergence. But since I cannot speak for all of you, I will instead, spell out why I am a tender blossom.
Growing up I was always the sensitive child. The one who cried about getting in trouble, the one who worried at night about all the ills of the world, and the one who strove to be noticed and feel adequate. I was tender. Skin thin as paper, with every judgement and correction leaving a tear. As one could imagine those tears caught up with me and by my tweens I disintegrated like the shredded paper I was. Self-loathing and perfectionism led to an Anorexia, and the fears of the past resurfaced as diagnosable Anxiety. As I tried to tape myself back together into my early teens, little comments and thoughts slowly reopened the freshly closed wounds. By my teenage years depression was added to my label list and my other problems worsened. I surrendered to my problems and was ready to give up, but with the help of some friends and some crazy events I soon learned I was blossom. This new discovery was eye opening and served as the light leading me towards the end of the tunnel. Blossoms are innately tender and fragile but they are also pretty and full of life. A blossom is shaped by its past but manifests in its current beauty. A blossom is hope. A blossom is motivation for better things to come. But most importantly a blossom is beautiful just the way it is, imperfections and all. I am a blossom. I am growing into my own skin as I follow the path towards the future and self-acceptance.
I believe we are all tender blossoms. As adept to pain as a sore, bruised shoulder after a fall. With as much potential as the bulbs of a Tulip, on the verge of emergence. But since I cannot speak for all of you, I will instead, spell out why I am a tender blossom.
Growing up I was always the sensitive child. The one who cried about getting in trouble, the one who worried at night about all the ills of the world, and the one who strove to be noticed and feel adequate. I was tender. Skin thin as paper, with every judgement and correction leaving a tear. As one could imagine those tears caught up with me and by my tweens I disintegrated like the shredded paper I was. Self-loathing and perfectionism led to an Anorexia, and the fears of the past resurfaced as diagnosable Anxiety. As I tried to tape myself back together into my early teens, little comments and thoughts slowly reopened the freshly closed wounds. By my teenage years depression was added to my label list and my other problems worsened. I surrendered to my problems and was ready to give up, but with the help of some friends and some crazy events I soon learned I was blossom. This new discovery was eye opening and served as the light leading me towards the end of the tunnel. Blossoms are innately tender and fragile but they are also pretty and full of life. A blossom is shaped by its past but manifests in its current beauty. A blossom is hope. A blossom is motivation for better things to come. But most importantly a blossom is beautiful just the way it is, imperfections and all. I am a blossom. I am growing into my own skin as I follow the path towards the future and self-acceptance.
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| My mom's favorite flower and a good symbol of a blossom...A Rose! |
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