The Dying Tree

There is a dying tree in my dad’s front yard. It had the Ash Bore Virus a few years ago, and my father has neglected to cut it down. It’s wilting, growing weaker. We even had to remove a substantial part in the middle of the branches. But still it stands, a sad symbol of what life has become for my family. But there is some hope to this story. See, somehow, there has been new growth; new branches with fresh green leaves have sprouted and begun to grow despite the wilting of the rest of the tree.

As I mentioned already, this is a representation of my family. Let me explain. The virus which infected the tree is a representation of the toxicity that was present in my family, causing the divorce of my parents. The part that we had to remove on the tree is representative of my mother. Like the tree branches threatening to fall on our house, she threatened to destroy our lives. The trunk is representative of my father; like the branches of the tree, it is nearly impossible for my siblings and myself to break the cycle of pain and brokenness without the support of the foundation, the base of the family. My father still aches with depression from the horrors he lived through with my mother. And finally, the new growth on the tree is representative of myself. Somehow, I have found a way to break the cycle for myself and grow anew.

Over my lifetime, short as it may be, I have faced many trials. My mother being an alcoholic and extremely abusive only lead me to choose self harm and a partner who would come to treat me just the same. Whether by divine intervention, the powers of the universe, luck, or whatever else, I was able to steal myself away from that terrible cycle. As I have mentioned before, when I left my abusive ex-husband, we had been living in San Diego. I had no one; no friends, no family, nothing. I called home and told them what happened; I drove myself to Las vegas where my grandmother met me to accompany me the rest of the way home.

She saw my distress plainly written on my face. She saw the healing that I was desperately in need of. My grandmother decided to take me on a slight detour on our way home; you know, since we were out there anyway. Our detour destination was Sedona, AZ. This was absolutely a magical and healing experience for me. This four hour visit lead me on my journey of healing, renewal and growth. Almost two years later, I have found peace and happiness on my path to healing.

Like the nearly impossible new growth on the dying tree in my dad’s front yard, I have found a way to grow and heal. There is hope; there is always a way. Find your tribe, those who would see you be reborn from the ashes. Seek the help you need to move forward.