Water your flowers.

When I was in the second grade, I remember coming to school and being told our class was going to be divided up into a handful of teams that day. And each team would be tasked with drawing a poster of our favorite assembly that year.

I loved assemblies.

Because it literally meant we were all assembled into the gymnasium to watch or take part in something special. Which also meant we weren’t in class having to learn something I wasn’t interested in.

As we were divided into our teams my teammates started yelling across the room, how much our poster was going to be better than the others.

And they felt this incredible swell of confidence and bravado because they had me.

And I was very good at drawing.

Our team decided we would draw a poster of a magician that had performed for our school. I wish I could remember his name, but I do remember being mesmerized by his floating disco ball trick.

The female teachers were equally mesmerized . . .

. . . by his lusciously long, curly brown hair.

I’m sure if I watched his performance as an adult, his floating disco ball trick may seem rudimentary and less awe inspiring. But as a child, that moment was filled with wonder and pure magic.

So here I was, drawing a picture of that moment while a bunch of my classmates gathered around. Some of which weren’t even on our team. They were all ooh-ing and aah-ing over each stroke of my pencil, laying the foundation for a poster that would be immortalized in the minds of my peers.

If you’ve ever watched A Christmas Story, I felt like Ralphie imagining the fanfare he would receive for his A ++++++++++++ paper about the Red Rider BB gun.

Except it was really happening.

And even my teacher would come over, smile, and give me a wink of approval.

Thanks Mrs. Bolsinger.

I’d always had a natural talent for art, and it felt really awesome to have that kind of positive attention.

And then something life-changing happened.

One of the kids near me said, “Wow! You’re a really good draw-er!”

Because that’s what we said back then in second grade. “Draw-er.” We didn’t say artist or illustrator, we said “Wow you’re a really good draw-er.”

And instead of me accepting that compliment, my response was, “No I’m not.”

No.

I’m NOT.

There was this awkward pause and I tried not to look at him as I knew he was staring at me. And after what seemed like a lifetime of silence, he simply said, “Why would you say ‘No, I’m not.’ when you know you are?”

Yeah. Why did I say that?

“Why don’t you just say, ‘Thank you.’?”

And right there I would learn a lesson that would stick with me for my entire life. Not just a lesson of gratitude, but a lesson in watering your flowers.

Here was a classmate who was nice enough to pay me a compliment that affirms my talents and skill, he was “giving me my flowers”, and I chose not to water them.

I chose not to water them.

What was with this false humility?

Why was I pretending that my talent, my skill, and my art, was worth less than what others could do?

Worthless.

And if I was pretending that my skill was worthless, then I was also pretending that a large part of me was worthless too.

And those were the weeds I was watering.

After that, when someone paid me a compliment, I got better at saying, “Thank you”.

But I wasn’t great at it. Many times, I would just smile and stay silent.

So, over the years, those weeds I was watering would grow and begin to suffocate my life.

And when seasons of difficulty hit, those weeds choked out any confidence I had to rise above challenges. I began believing that all that I was capable of cultivating was pain, brokenness, and disappointment.

Which almost led me to take my life on April 10, 1996.

I’ve spoken very openly about being suicidal, in the hopes that others wouldn’t feel alone in their struggles.

A few years ago, I posted a video sharing the whole story of what led to me getting out two razor blades and wanting to end my life at 23 years old.

I encourage you to CLICK HERE and check it out.

This Thursday, April 11, 2024, I’ll celebrate my 28th re-birthday. 28 years of life that I never thought I’d have.

And I’m grateful for every second of it.

Now here I am as an adult. A Leadership Coaching Specialist helping others rescue their dreams so they can bring their best to this world.

I help people water their flowers.

And I’ve become very comfortable saying, “thank you!” when given a compliment.

I’m even confident saying, “I’m very good at what I do.” Without a hint of arrogance.

I hate that I denied myself that day. And I refuse to do it ever again. And you should refuse to do it too, because deep down, you know what you’re good at, what you’re skilled at, and how impressed people are by you.

So now what?

So, make a commitment to yourself, cultivate your garden. Water your flowers. Bloom a landscape of confidence so when storms come your way, you can harvest the strength you need to persevere.

If you need some help pulling up some weeds, take the time to ask yourself these questions:

• What do I do well?

• What do I do better than others?

• What unique skills and talents do I have?

• What do others see as my strengths?

• What am I proud of?

• What do I enjoy doing?

• What do I like about myself?

That should help you create some fertile soil to plant your flowers in.

And to my classmate who said I was good draw-er, thank you.

Not just for the flowers. But for the life lesson.

If you’re interested in taking these steps further, you can schedule a free consultation call with me to see if personal coaching would help you Rescue Your Dreams™ so you can transform your reality.

Click HERE for my Calendly link! 

Ever upward.