Was it dead? The summer sun blazed down on the bare branches of the hibiscus. The limbs of the normally robust shrub were empty—not a leaf or bloom to be found. Still I refused to give up. I believed it would spring back to life. It just needed more time.
In the past, I had used denial as a coping mechanism to help me survive. Was I using it again to ignore the unfortunate fate of my plant? How could I tell?
As a child, I experienced traumatic events that were too frightening for me to deal with, so I stuffed my feelings. I pretended everything was fine. I made excuses for what I saw. In the process, I lost touch with myself and became emotionally numb. I certainly didn’t want to do that again.
Denying my feelings, didn't make them go away
Once I was in a safe environment, the unpleasant memories of the past bubbled to the surface, coming out when I least expected it. I learned that denying my feelings didn’t make them go away. They remained buried under the surface, waiting to be acknowledged, waiting to be dealt with.
When I could no longer suppress my feelings, I had to examine my fears, feel the pain and face the truth. Each stuffed feeling had to be remembered, felt and accepted. After doing this, I began to heal. The burden of the repressed memories lifted from me, and my life moved forward.
I didn't want to get caught in the trap of denial.
Even though I didn’t want to get caught in the trap of denial, I also didn’t want to lose my plant. The past winter had been extremely harsh. Some of my other plants died back to the roots and reemerged just fine. How could I know whether or not this shrub would do the same thing?
Facing my own denial taught me to approach difficult situations with my eyes open and my heart filled with courage. This way I avoided distorting the truth or rationalizing my thoughts and actions. By dealing only with the facts, I remained grounded in reality and no longer needed the old defense mechanisms of the past. For me to make an accurate decision about my plant, I had to be open and honest with myself.
I broke off a branch and snapped it in two. The wood in the center of the stick was brown and decaying. The facts told me my beloved hibiscus was gone.
I dropped my head and reminisced about the cotton-candy flowers that once graced its leafy branches. I brushed a tear from my eye and mourned its beauty.
A few minutes later, I lifted my head and grabbed a saw. As I removed the dead plant, I vowed to plant a bigger, better shrub next spring.
2 responses to “A Shrub of Denial”
I always love your blog posts Sallie.?
Thank you, Jacqueline.
Sallie