Bloom

“Fitting in is about assessing a situation and becoming who you need to be to be accepted. Belonging…doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.” —Brené Brown

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Have you heard the phrase “Bloom where you’re planted”? I first encountered it on a t-shirt in a catalogue filled with an eclectic collection of jewelry, magnets, books, cards, and coffee cups. Above the words was the image of a bright yellow flower pushing through a thin crack in a cement sidewalk. The message was clear: when you find yourself somewhere less than ideal, don’t despair. Push through the obstacles, look for the light, find a way through. You can do it!

Bloom where you’re planted can be good advice. Let’s call it Plan A, which can be rich with opportunities to grow in awareness of what we are capable of as little else can. It’s important, however, not to use that possibility to rationalize or justify staying in an abusive, toxic, or otherwise dangerous situation. In those instances, it’s imperative to plant yourself elsewhere as quickly as you safely can do so. For many, however, hanging in there when the going gets tough has much to teach us.

My Plan A was to return to paid work after many years at home raising children. Unfortunately, blooming in my new surrounds proved harder than anticipated. Because even when I enjoyed the people I worked with, full-time employment, combined with the “hustle culture” that was part of every organization I worked for, wore me out. It also left me no time for other things—and people—I loved more.

Even so, I helped raise millions of dollars for scholarships, buildings, housing, ministry, and more. That’s what blooming looks like, right? For some, perhaps, but not for me. Demanding donors, untrained leaders, and unrealistic fundraising goals took away everything I loved about my work. Differences of opinion on a steady stream of ethical issues added to my weary discontent.

To cope, I took time off almost as fast as I earned it. But that meant I rarely spent more than a few days away from work, which was never enough time to rest and regroup. Whoever said “self-sabotage is your soul speaking” was talking to me. Regrettably, I wasn’t listening. Yes, we needed the money, and we also needed the health insurance, so part-time work wasn’t an option. My self-employed husband’s business was thriving, but the Affordable Care Act had not yet become law. When it did, we made too much money to qualify for a subsidy. So, I soldiered on, miserable, burned out, and angry.

When I reflected on my work experience, I recognized other realities that frustrated my efforts to bloom where I was planted. First, I am a morning person, and fundraising often involves after-hour commitments several times a month. I also am more introverted than extroverted. So too much time surrounded by people drains me. When this happens, I start to feel left out even when, in fact, I am welcome and appreciated.

Those insights were helpful, but nevertheless my Plan A wasn’t working. They did, however, help me recognize that blooming where we’re planted can be as much about who we are as where we are. When we’re forced to choose between those, it pays to have a Plan B.

Thankfully, Nick’s business had continued to grow. So while the price of private health insurance remained ridiculously high, leaving the workplace entirely for a while became a viable Plan B. So at age 60, I resigned. It was supposed to be a temporary break to reevaluate my professional goals. But a few months in, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and never returned to paid work.

It’s been almost five years since that cancer diagnosis. Since then, I’ve learned that whether it’s a job, school, city, place of worship, social club, relationship, or something else, I may need a Plan B, and Plan B equals change.

Plan B change may be small. For some it might mean going to bed earlier, getting household help, learning to meditate, spending more or less time alone, or taking daily walks. Someone else may need a check-up, medication, a therapist, or a candid conversation—with herself or someone else. For others, the best or only way forward might be a divorce, reconciliation, a new job, a move, surgery, or another big change.

Be that as it may, some find themselves planted in places and circumstances in which little, if anything, can be changed, at least not quickly or easily. Just ask someone struggling to create a new life without a loved one who has passed away, sometimes unexpectedly. Or the caregiver without financial or other resources to get even the smallest break in a sometimes lonely or repetitive routine of care for someone they love. By middle age, many of us have experienced a time when physical illness or mental health challenges made it hard just to get out of bed in the morning. For some, these challenges may not be temporary; they are the daily reality of life and, barring a miracle, tomorrow will be no different.

Blooming under such conditions happens all the time. However, only those who experience the hardship associated with such challenges know what blooming looks and feels like at any given time. My workplace woes feel superficial and silly in light of the resilience and fortitude many demonstrate day after day in far more difficult situations. They are my heroes.

One of those heroes is a young woman I sat near in a small chemotherapy room while the Covid-19 pandemic ravaged the world around us. We both had the same red liquid infusing into our veins through a port surgically implanted in our chests. But apart from our age, there was another big difference between us—she was pregnant. Alarmed and concerned, I looked up from her large belly directly into her eyes. She returned my gaze with a fierce look of defiance, determination, and hope that still inspire and humble me whenever I think about it. I pray that today she and her baby are healthy and strong.

No matter the circumstance, giving ourselves permission to change and bloom is challenging. Loving ourselves well means asking for the help and support we need to change what is—or how we perceive what is, or better manage it if we can. Help and support rarely show up on their own.

There are no guarantees, of course. That’s what makes the change from Plan A to Plan B so scary. The rewards, however, can be worth the risk. “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage,” said essayist Anaїs Nin. Looking back, I regret not having the courage to honestly evaluate the toll my work was taking on me in many ways. Nor did I honor the natural pulse and rhythm of my life or the balance and flexibility I need to avoid feeling trapped. If I had, maybe the changes I needed to make, a completely different line of work, for example, might have been easier to undertake.

The upside is that now, in the words of Brené Brown, “I belong everywhere I go, no matter where it is or who I’m with, as long as I never betray myself.” That bright yellow flower pushing its way up through the crack in the cement? That finally feels like me at my blooming best—grateful, wiser, happier.

Questions

1.      What might interfere with “blooming where you’re planted”?

2.      Is there an area of your life where you need to make a change?

3.      Why is “blooming” in one or more areas of our lives important? Or is it?