Confessions of a Dandelion Child

Over the past few years, I have come to terms that some of my most cherished loved ones have serious issues, let it be from substance abuse or undiagnosed cluster B personality disorders. I was raised to put on a certain facade to the public -- unfortunately that translated into being unable to cope with my reality in a healthy fashion. I learned to swallow my feelings and pretend they never existed, positive or otherwise.

I learned to keep a stoic expression. A poker face. A mask of stone. In one hand, the vain part of me is glad this happened for while I am 32 years old I hardly look a day past my mid 20s oftentimes and the few lines I have are due to the horrible smoking habit I picked up (in all seriousness) when Papi passed away (thankfully, I have stopped!) But on the other hand, I envy the well-marked faces of my peers for they tell a story rich in emotions that I have become numb to.

While I keep my own emotions in check more often than not, I have still grown up to be an empathetic human being. I feel for my fellow man. My heart bleeds for those who can't do anything about their situation and I do my best to help when I can. I have friendships that I can honestly say have lasted a life time. I'm talking over 20 years here!

I am a dandelion child.

Somehow, I have managed to flourish despite the conditions of my youth. While my past may not have been as checkered or desolate as others, I am still pockmarked with battle scars. I have been trampled on. I have been forgotten. I have been emotionally and physically abused by folk I once trusted. I have been gaslit (that is to be psychologically manipulated to doubt my own truth) so badly that at times I slip into a fugue like-state where I am unsure if I am a figment of my own imagination... and yet, I continue to survive.

Like the weeds that manage to burst through the cracks in the pavement on a desolate side of the road, I continue to exist. I will find a way to make myself grow regardless of what my surroundings are, by sheer will alone.

When I first heard of the term 'dandelion child' and realized it fit my situation I was a little saddened. I mean... its a dandelion. A simple, common weed that grows in unwanted places and is hardly pretty at all. I already have a self-image issue, did I really need to compare myself to a dandelion?

A friend of mine was once called a rose and I was jealous. Another a lilly and my heart ached. I remember being a little hurt that I was called a cactus flower. Years later, a similar conversation came up again and this time I was told I was a dandelion

But... have you ever seen a field of dandelions?

I was driving through Duvall a few months ago to pick up a client from her work place and I had to go through some rather rural roads. The scenery was breathtaking. If I weren't working, and if I had not to stay on a schedule to pick up my client, I would have pulled to the side of the road and taken pictures.

Below me was a field full of white little puffs and yellow flowers. The soft breeze made the tall grasses and flowers move like ocean waves but on dry land. It was absolutely magnificent.

And as I drove, I continued to remember all the times I would make dandelion wreaths to wear and the dandelion puffs I would blow into the air to carry my wishes into the aether. So what if the common little flower was just that....common? There is beauty in its resilience and its intricate simplicity. There is a certain soothing comfort at being able to find these little flowers in the middle of a busy cross walk or a long, forgotten field. And cactus flowers bloom in the most arid of conditions where most things would not flourish.

While I once was hurt by these words, today I am filled with pride. There is a certain beauty and strength in these rare little flowers... and I have my own strength that makes me beautiful in my own way.