We were planted early - my siblings and I -

these saplings made of shoulds.

Those tending to our care

Themselves young and unaware

Of all the fear-based rules silencing our coulds.

 

The garden around us full of beautiful roses

Their thorns often opinionated and disapproving

Alongside the occasional judgmental sting

of pollinating bees

Reminding us harshly of the roles we were to play

And not the kind of play like

Childhood tea parties under the Weeping Willow

But more of a DIS-play

Meant to prove to a watching world

That they were doing a great job

That we weren’t a mistake

Because their egos were at stake.

 

Annual shoulds and should nots

Planted alongside perennial love me, love me nots.

Imprinting my heart as a bouquet of forget-me-nots

To carry with me

in perpetuity.

Decisions made in my best interest,

with seemingly little actual interest

in who I was becoming

And more vested in containing

My unruly vines exploring and creating.

 

The intention to shelter and protect

Against invasive weeds and birds of prey

Led to the disconnect

Of damage caused

As poison sprayed season after season

Crept inside our growth rings

Suppressing the natural cycle of release

And expansion that growth brings.

 

As an adult, I brought my entire garden patch with me

Transplanted

Planted with many varieties of trans…

transitions,

transgressions,

transactions

translations

and transparencies

All hiding my true self like an evergreen mask.

 

To avoid the venomous shame

Of not doing it “right”

I chose to abstain

And gave up my rights.

Deprived of water

I find myself drought resistant.

No sap flowing.  My branches twisted.

Guarded and distant.

Begging to just be sufficient.

I’ve been held captive willingly against my will.

The echoes reverberating inside me still:

Not enough.  Not good.  Incorrect.  Out of order.

 

It took a long time to finally recognize

That those voices inside my head were not mine.

The inscriptions in my heart

Carved by lovers leaving their mark

Like heart-shaped scars

In the layers of my bark

As if a map for my instruction

Unintentionally marking a path to destruction.

 

Shoulds are directives.

Consider this:  I’ve been mis-directed.

I awaken

To my location

This now densely overgrown woods

Planted to protect my shoulds

The darkness of the canopy unjustly justified

Feeling stuck in the muck

Of self-judgment, now SELF-victimized.

 

So I made the choice

to find my own voice

Outside this imposing forest that has kept me small

I know there’s a space where I shall stand tall.

 

My first thought as I plan my escape

Is that I need a compass, a map, a guide

Someone or something other than myself

Upon which to rely.

It seems the fear of choosing unwisely

Planted so deeply inside me

Is trying to follow me out.

My lack of trust in myself, was devout.

 

This overgrowth containing false beliefs

Created an UNDERgrowth of my Self

Which I understandably grieve.

It turns out, I am a deciduous tree

Clinging unhealthily to someone else’s leaves

As in the things they LEAVE behind in me.

It is time to release all that is no longer useful

Dropping what is not mine and waiting for Spring.

 

I own my part

I chose familiarity over my heart.

I release all condemnation

And gift myself a fresh start.

I have NOT fallen short

Of where or who I “should” be

On this societal timeline

Where comparison is queen.

My methods of measurement were simply built

On people who were NOT ME.

 

I begin to hack away at the underbrush of beliefs

And tangles of habitual roots.

Finding relief

As I relinquish all absolutes.

 

My freedom is linked

To trusting my own instinct.

Jumping over, tunneling under, zigzagging around

My exit strategy…? My destination…?

The possibilities abound!

My path isn’t out there, somewhere

On the other side of these woods.

It exists right here, right now, within my coulds.

 

I turn my face toward the Sun

Giving gratitude that I have now begun.

My fullest expression resides

In my freedom to choose

Darling, Spring has sprung

And I have begun to BLOOM.