Lost causes

When abuse happens, we either believe we are a lost cause or we are told and shown how much of a lost cause we are. Being at the receiving end of such pain at such a young age can set the tone for low to non-existent self-esteem. Add in the feelings of powerlessness, that no matter what we say or how we express it, we have learned to shut down and it can be fruitless to say anything. We just do not matter. Having that mindset, maybe we just don’t believe it when someone says they care. Yea, heard that before.

Because we wish that we could have been treated with tenderness, we can turn to the less “fortunate” and downtrodden, those who are also powerless. The animals. We can rescue them, love them, work with them because hopefully, they will love us back and give us that unconditional love and appreciation we have been looking for. They aren’t malicious and intentionally hurt us.

So many, many years ago, when I first moved to the Cities, I went to a department store. I walked past the plants and saw this straggly and pathetic looking plant. I bought it for 47 cents. I gave it a new home, new pot, new dirt, more love and attention. I believed in that plant that with what I can give it, it would grow and transform. That is my plant in the picture.

I wish I could see giving me that kind of loving attention to grow and thrive. That is the long and winding road. Other’s try. There is something configured in my brain that can block it out the kindnesses. Maybe because it is people who I have experienced as unsafe, have ulterior motives. (Gratefully, I have friends now that we give and receive, in mutual relationships.)

When my son was 7 or 8, we thought it was time to get a cat. As my son had an allergy, the search was important. Through a suggestion, we were introduced to a lovely cat, CB. My son’s cat allergy was not with this cat which is the basis for deciding which one to get. CB was used for stud service only, left in a small basement room. He was not treated as a pet. After I brought him home, he was scared. The house was expansive to him. Sitting in the window to watch big screen kitty TV was new. Being held and petted was foreign. It took some time of patience, love, respecting space and he turned around. There was such sweetness to him. We would snuggle at night with our little ritual. We became so attached. When it was time for him to cross over the rainbow bridge, it was a difficult decision. After nine years of togetherness, can I love him enough to let him go? After he crossed the rainbow bridge, I cried for weeks and weeks. Other than one other person, a friend, I had not cried that much for anybody for that long.

I missed him every day and my plant is thriving. It even blooms every few years. Love can make a difference for animals and plants, maybe even people.