I think I have shared we have a family garden. We like to plant vegetables throughout the summer and we like to engage the girls in the process. This year we actually converted the turtle sandbox that brought us many great summer days into a garden as well. I say “many great summer days” but if you have or have had the turtle sandbox, let’s be honest, as wonderful a toy as it is, there were countless nights I was bathing our friends because someone thought it would be fun to throw sand at each other’s faces. URG!
Back to gardening, the marigold has a strong smell, which many gardeners say, wards off pests. When I was a kid, my dad had marigold flowers surrounding his house. They were in many pots, orange and yellow. It has been many, many years since I have been to my father’s house, however, the smell of marigolds revitalizes my insecurities that my father so greatly instilled. I am a dumb girl. I will never be anything. I am not smart and I continue to make dumb choices. It is funny, as an adult, I am smart enough to know none of that is true; look at all my blessings!
With that said, I would call marigolds a trigger for me. I planted a large quantity by myself this past weekend in our garden to ward off pests. I say “alone” because it is important to mention. When you are alone, you are often mired in your own thoughts. I smelled the marigolds and good memories of living at the beach came to mind. However, the memories of the horrible drunken nights of my father soon trumped the good times and the not good enough mindset I was trained to have started to seep in. Now, like I said, I truly realize my blessings. I am smarter than those memories however, for the remainder of the day I noticed I was unconsciously judging my husband.
He was helping Deanna with her counting and numbers. Deanna was struggling to remember some key points and although my husband was patient and kind with her, I saw myself sitting there with my father. Jarrod picked up on this, reminded me that he is not my father and asked a simple a question, “When will I get over it?”
Here is what I realized. I may never get over it, especially when a trigger is weighing me down, memories staring me in the face. HOWEVER, I will also remember that I know those old truths are not real. I know my children feel my husband’s support and love each day and I know that I am good enough. Sometimes I just need to remind myself, when the trigger begins, to bring myself back to me, re-center myself on who I am, who I have become, and most importantly to let it go.
I have shared before that I am an Overcomer! Being an overcomer does not mean we forget our experiences, it means we train our mind to move on and learn from them. If you have a situation like this that you can relate to, don’t be ashamed of what your mind remembers. Accept it, allow yourself to process those feelings, and then go about your day knowing that you have overcome.
