|Bindweed Credit: RHS|
I don't think troubles make you stronger.
But you know what? They have made me realise how strong I already am.
Made me take a really long and really hard look at myself, questioning my way of being.
It's made me appreciate my own resources, my strengths. To grow up really. And value what I have.
And what I am.
I've also been getting to know The Enemy.
She has been holding me back for so long. Telling me I am not up to scratch, convincing me to not even try as she knows I would fail, making me point out and even exaggerate my supposed flaws to others for fear they might think I have uppity ideas about myself and making me feel embarrassed for even existing sometimes.
Killing my potential.
Denying my dignity.
Have you guessed who she is?
That's right. Myself.
I see that a crippling lack of confidence has spread like bindweed, its snaking growth choking everything in its path.
I can feel my will and dignity growing as I recognise the nature of my opponent. I think I know what I must do.
Going back to bindweed, the best way to deal with that of course is to pull it out by hand.
Root by root.
One might need a knife, or some other sharp implement, for certain stubborn, hard to reach patches.
I've read that once bindweed is established, a gardener may need to battle for years. One must be ruthless, relentless. There is no place for kindness or gentleness.
I too have declared war on my Enemy.
And there will be no peace pact.