Cacti inside you – from a daughter to a mother

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My mother told me once that I resemble cacti, that I am so harmful. Because we are both spiky. But the cacti are like that because of their nature; I was like that on purpose. Obviously, I didn’t agree with that, at first. I felt hurt because she saw me only like that. But yes, I resemble them...

We both have spines to protect ourselves from the others, to hurt others when they approach. For a cactus, the spines protect it physically. For me, my spines are my wall; they protect me emotionally. I was hurt too many times not to be scared by someone’s touch.

But this wasn’t the only thing I saw. This was a common detail, visible to every human’s eye. What I actually saw was the beauty, the blossoms, the strength.

I resemble cacti because we both survived the desert.

An empty place full of nothing, but your own kind; the warmest day and the coldest night. I could survive the hottest days with just a little water – and never begged for more. I could survive the change in temperature. The warmth of the day and the cold of the night – the sudden change in someone’s temper. I survived that but I wished I could understand it at the right time.

A cactus goes miles to find the water it needs and so do I to achieve my dreams. Even with my roots deep down in the ground, sand or land, I can still move. They don’t bound me, but they are my family – my roots support me.

I didn’t blink, I didn’t cry. I understood. And I got better and moved on. The same way a cactus survived the drought and moved on, to somewhere new, where it could grow – to find the water it needed. You can do it, too.

I am a cactus because my blossoms show hard and one at a time, but I bloom at night when you can judge me only with your soul. I run fast to gain the water I don’t have. Sometimes, I have to let my spines grow; to keep me awake and show me the real world. And however hard I’ll let them touch you, I’ll never deprive you of seeing, touching, smelling my flower; watching me grow. cacti flower

Since the beginning, my heart was an unexpected shape of stamens and dust. It took a long time to get here, where it belongs. Yet its stone became spines and the tears – the water it needed.

It takes time to get your kind soul back. Allow yourself to fall in love again – but first, with your own being.

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