“The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.”
Yes, I can see that in nature, but I sure cant find that I myself right now. I’ve had a bad week (and no, the Boston lunacy had nothing to do with that).
In adversity I flounder, I anger, I seethe at the unfairness. I cry about actually being abandoned by doctors that are supposed to heal, family that is supposed to support, and friends that are supposed to lend a helping hand – and DON’T.
In adversity, like the kind I’m facing right now – the culmination of 49 yrs of abuse, sickness, pain, abandonment, and ignorance -I just want to wither and die.
I can’t bloom. I have nothing left from which to create such beauty.