Jamie Kristen

An Object Lesson on Dealing with Opposition

The other day, my mom said to me, “You’re so resilient.” Cognitively, I know this is true but my battered self-esteem chooses not to believe it. I don’t feel resilient. I feelbeaten. Perception is everything. From where she was standing, I appeared strong but when I saw my own reflection, I perceived a worn-down human.

I grew up in drought-prone California. As a kid, I loved it! We had mountains, deserts, beaches, lakes, orange groves, and The Magic Kingdom. It wasn’t until some time around the nineties when I noticed a cultural shift toward egocentricity and a lifestyle of frenzy. The state I once loved, had grown disgruntled and fool-ridden.

When I first moved to the South, almost a decade ago, I tried to hide my origin. Imagine feeling the need to hide your past, heritage, DNA, or any other formative factor over which you had zero influence. I should not have tried to divert attention away from my history but I did. Now, I’m embracing it. The place I was raised was dynamic and challenging, creating the building blocks for my fortitude and empathy. 

We are a product of our past—positive or negative—and to deny or dishonor the past is disrespectful to our present self. I can’t fully embrace the woman I am now, without first accepting and appreciating the woman I was then. Even at my worst, I always did my best. That young woman might have been ignorant, impulsive, and way too permissive but I have learned to forgive her. She did the best she could with the knowledge and resources she had at the time.

As a very young woman, I was taken in by a man I now know was verbally and psychologically abusive. He set his sights on me before I was even a legal adult. He possessed me and I became a prisoner for the better part of the next eighteen years, begging the universe to help me escape an intangible cage. Not long ago, some well-meaning person told me that I “talk a lot” about trauma, as though it is part of my “identity”. For the first eighteen years of my adult life, I was not allowed to talk about the person who—and the situation that—caused me trauma. Now that I am free, I will speak often about the trauma I experienced, for more than one reason. By confessing it aloud, I give myself permission to heal, patience to grow, and the reminder to never again allow my autonomy to be taken from me. I also share my story in the hope that some hurting soul may hear it and find the strength to escape an abusive relationship.

I have a philosophy that I don’t like to discuss problems which have no solution. In an effort to better my dire situation, I spent a number of years using SMART goals. Against my free-spirited nature, I followed a calculated system of goal setting, to achieve optimal results and a measure of success. Needless to say, nothing worked out as expected. Even though I had budgeted the appropriate amount of time and money to achieve these plans, they still fell through. Each time I was on track to “level-up,” something or someone would come along to set me back in my progress. Talk about infuriating! 

I began to believe that my ex-abuser must have been right—I was a failure. Through invasive self-examination and therapy, I learned the flaw in that thinking. I finally learned that I was not failing so much as being redirected.  Call me naive, but I believe in a Master’s plan and I anticipate that the purpose of my life will be fulfilled—whatever that may be. I believe that truth, even if I don’t perceive it is happening or realize the results I expect.

Over many years, I have heard about the strength of the Palm Tree. While that fact is well-known, I would like to focus on the why. Palms survive some of the most devastating natural disasters, including 145 MPH winds. The reason for this, is base instinct—they give. These trees withstand fierce opposition because they are flexible. Being willing to bend is not a sign of weakness. Palm trees are Nature’s proof that pliability is a profound source of strength. 

One of the worst scars I have, is from a palm tree. In an attempt to trim some plants that were in close proximity to a palm tree in my front yard, I had a run-in with its rigid fronds. My thigh was no match for the tough exterior of that particular palm. I may be physically strong, but when I came at that tree, it did not give one inch. That palm tree was the longest standing resident in my old garden because it just refused to back down. Palm trees are tough and will not back down in the face of opposition. They know when to bend and when to stand firm.

Palm trees have roots that run horizontally and vertically, allowing them to find water, even where there is little to no rainfall. They are adaptable and resourceful. If there is life to be found, they will reach and stretch until they find it. More importantly, they have adapted to retain—in their trunks—the water and nutrients they need for survival. Palms do not accept their limitations and environment. They will reach farther and thrive, even if that means adapting to harsh surroundings.

Much like the native foliage of California, I have spent many years in a barren land—scraping and fighting for survival. My skin is much tougher than it once was. I discovered that I will eventually discover what I need, if I fight hard and long enough. Through hardship and obstacles, often without the support of others, I have found that I can weather almost anything. Was I just born strong? I doubt it. Do I feel strong now? Absolutely not. What I believe is that once you make the decision to be flexible, you will find you are incredibly strong.