Usually when a person receives flowers, it's a great thing. It means that someone knows you, and cares about you, and wants you to be happy. When I receive flowers, however, it sends me a slightly different message. It lets me know beyond any doubt that the giver of said flowers, doesn't know me at all, doesn't care about my emotional well-being, and would like to see me fail. If you think this sounds extreme, I'll bet you have never seen me with flowers.
Whenever I get flowers, I put them in the exact center of my kitchen table. I try to memorize their color, their vibrancy, I tell them how pretty they are, and get really excited. I welcome them into my home, promptly introducing them to a couple kitchen appliances, should they need company when I'm at work. In the beginning of my flower owning days, I even gave each of them names, which I forgot within the hour, which allowed me to rename them. I felt like the flowers were a metaphorical mirror, and that I somehow resembled their beauty.
Days later, I begin to sense trouble. Walking by, I notice one of them drooping a little. I immediately get a concerned look on my face, inspecting the state of my floral collection. I add in an extra smidgeon of plant food, that I had found haphazardly rubber banded around their stems, and try to nurse the lone flower back to health.
It is of no use. The center of my table becomes the site of a full blown flower wilting epidemic. I'm checking water temperatures, and repositioning stems, nothing seems to help. I start to panic, realizing that if for some reason the person that gave me this gift dropped by for any reason, they would see that I was no better than a murderer. When it becomes clear that nothing I am doing is helping, I enter the seven stages of grief.
Shock/Denial: Looking good, flowers! Never looked better! Hmm...that's an odd decaying smell, I thought I just took out the garbage...oh, don't be silly Flower, it couldn't possibly be you, you're supposed to smell good!
Pain/Guilt: What have I done! I've destroyed something innocent and beautiful! Someone trusted me enough to give me these, and what do I go on and do? RUIN! DECIMATE! I knew I should have placed you in better light! Talked to you more! I'm a terrible person! I FAIL at being a compassionate human being!
Anger/Bargaining: You know, while I do take full responsibility for my crappy green thumbness, I would like to point out that in almost all cases of gifting flowers, the plants are ripped from the dirt and roots are removed, so they are already half dead when I receive them, they just don't look like it. No, instead they look beautiful, untarnished, oh! Floooowwwerrrrsss!!! Please be pretty again, I'll buy you a new vase, I'll move you to the living room, I'll create a special device that I can wear and attach you to it so that I can always be with you, just please, please, pleeeeease don't die!
Depression/Reflection/Loneliness: My life is dark. Your petals have been drained of all life, as has my soul. I sit at the table, and talk to the remains. "Hey, do you remember that time when I had to change the tablecloth? I moved you to the counter. That was really neat. Sure do wish I could move you to the counter again, but you'd probably crumble apart!" (Jagged breaths between sobs)
The Upward Turn: At least I was able to enjoy your pretty aliveness for a little while, until I killed you, that is. But really, we built some great memories together!
Reconstruction/Working Through: Not everyone is good with plants. That's okay; I'm good at other things. I need to recognize that my strengths are not in the area of nature related things. I loved those flowers, and I was sad to see them deteriorate into mush, and become an eyesore, and watch their beauty dissipate, but I must move ahead with my life.
Acceptance/Hope: Putting the flowers in the garbage was really hard, but I am strong. I now know that I am not a proper care taker of such a gift. My table is cleared, and I'm ready to begin my life after flowers.
And then, just as I'm diving into my new life, I do something. Somebody, somewhere for some reason, feels the need to thank me. And instead of getting me something sturdy, like a rock or a lamp, they get me...flowers. I get so excited! "I'm going to take such good care of you!" The person feels like they’ve made a good choice. They have no idea the personal trauma they have just unleashed within my state of mind. That’s how I know that if I get flowers from you, we must not be that great of friends. If you are one of the few people that have gotten me flowers, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but it’s for the best.
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