Growing From the Cracks in Life

Walking along the same sidewalk day after day seemed awfully mundane, and yet I did it like clockwork. You see I wasn’t out there to do anything but walk and clear my head. It helped me process my emotions like my bitterness, my regrets and my anger in a better way and give me space to think.

My emotions were a special poison of their own and I once thought I was a flower that could bloom. That poison rotted any hope I ever had of being a blooming flower. I had come to a point where I deeply hated those who were blooming all around me while I burned from the inside out.

Every day I would see dandelions growing in the cracks of the sidewalk, unbothered and blooming. I thought to myself that’s beautiful in a poetic sense and every day they would be there. It didn’t matter if the outdoor maintenance people came around to dig them up, cut them down or poison them.Those dandelions still found a way to grow back. I didn’t know it at the night but that’s exactly the thing I needed to see on my daily walk. I found beauty in the simplest of things, a weed defying all odds, growing in the strangest of places.

My life was a lot like those weeds because I felt like a weed. I was an outcast and a recovering alcoholic. I had slipped through the cracks of society and continued to survive one way or another. Those weeds gave me hope that I could survive even the poisons of my life, the acidic soil I was buried, and the malnourishment of life. Every time I thought I had been so broken in my life I grew regardless.

It didn’t happen overnight and those weeds didn’t break through the cement and concrete overnight either. Day by day those weeds grew, and broke through new barriers. I find so much beauty in the fact that weeds strive to reach the light no matter what. That’s the kind of weed I wanted to be because I didn’t know how to be a flower.

I struggled living in a toxic environment with a toxic family with no outlet but to walk and go to meetings. I was constantly being buried; put down and called worthless. I was unsure of myself, and unsure of who I was exactly. I took it one day at a time simply moving my feet in the right direction. I managed to stay sober despite my circumstances and grew to appreciate my own inner strength.

As I walked along my own path, I found a home in the company of other “weeds” just like me. People who didn’t fit in anywhere else and turned to alcohol for freedom from their problems. Little did we know the alcohol was like pouring cement on ourselves and our problems.

Eventually we all found ourselves buried, and suffocating under the cement. Drowning in it until it dried up our lives. We had been cut off from the rest of the world. Our pain, resenements, anger and lonlieness only further served to drown us. Ill never forget the feeling of willingly burying myself alive with cement.

The first to fill up were my lungs and I was unable to scream or cry for help and then my legs which prevented me from running away. All I remembered was my arm was the last to be buried; a bottle of booze in my hand till the very end. I found myself trapped in the darkness of my choosing, and all I could feel was despair. I didnt know if I would ever see the light again or what it would feel like when I did. Little did I know that I would grow under these circumstances. After-all we were weeds, resilient and stubborn.

Eventually my path began mirroring that of my daily walks. The more I focused on growing in my own life the more I noticed the weeds sprouting all around me. I know we all talk about the beauty of flowers, but I don’t see it like that. Flowers bloom and grow beautifully under the right conditions, but not everyone is ever going to meet their own inner conditions to grow. The true beauty in my life revolved around watching people who struggled for so long find a way to grow regardless of their situation. Weeds don’t allow their circumstances to stop them, and they find a way to come back from the poison.

I enjoyed picking those dandelions up and blowing their seeds in the wind. Knowing they would end up thriving wherever the wind took them. Those little weeds began helping me appreciate the small things in my life. The small gestures of kindness people make towards one another, the small gifts of love and words we share. Something as small as holding the door open for a stranger who doesn’t even say thank you. There's meaning in the gesture, there's kindness in the action and that’s all it needed to be.

I started giving back in my life focusing on the small things. I was surprised what a difference it made in my life and the lives of others. Whether it was doing the dishes so a family member didn’t have to come home already frustrated and see dirty dishes or take the time to cook food for the week. Even in the acidic soil of a toxic environment, I was finding ways to grow as a human being.

It became easier to ignore the need to drink as time passed by and I found myself trying to be of service to others more. It was as if someone had picked me up and blew my seeds to the wind, and I was spreading into the lives of others to grow even more. That’s also the beauty of working the program and choosing to find sobriety. No matter what we did in our past, no matter what our circumstances are, we can still infinitely grow anywhere.

Before I knew it, I had managed to break through the cracks of life and find the light again. I spent so long buried and in the dark that I had forgotten what it was to breathe fresh air, to feel the sun on my skin. It was a miracle that I was even alive. To know that I was breaking through my circumstances, I was growing from my past and my hard work had finally paid off.

There's true beauty in those weeds especially to those of us who never bloomed like flowers. To those of us who had to survive regardless of where we landed in life. To accept our past, our circumstances and make our break throughs despite that. The beauty in striving towards the sun, the light because that is where we belonged. It didn’t matter what the world thought of us, or how they saw us. The only thing that mattered was choosing to grow where planted and overcoming what the flowers could never do.

Weeds in the cracks of the sidewalk found their way into my heart and they are more beautiful to me than anything. They are a testament to what humans can do, what we can achieve if we choose to grow.

Prompt-Start or end your story with a character noticing the beauty in something they've seen hundreds of times.

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