Sarah always wanted a house like this, a nice little cottage with many wisteria trees around it. When she first moved in with her baby, Jack, the trees had pretty purple flowers that smelled sweet. They made the world look soft and purple, and gentle light came through them into the baby’s room. She loved to sit on the porch swing with Jack in her arms, surrounded by the sweet smell. The wisteria felt like a beautiful, welcoming hug, a perfect start to her new life as a mom.
At first, the thin stems of the wisteria that grew near the windows looked pretty. Sarah thought they were like nature’s art. She would gently move them. It felt like she was taking care of the house, and the wisteria was making it beautiful. But after some months, the wisteria’s hug started to feel too tight, like it was grabbing the house.
The small, soft stems grew thicker and stronger, like ropes. They started to spread across the wooden walls of the house, seeming to want to cover everything. They pushed at the window covers, and their leaves made the rooms darker. Sarah would tell Jack, “The house is getting a big, leafy hug, isn’t it?” But she felt worried inside. The way the trees were growing in started to feel like a slow, quiet attack.
She spent more and more time trying to control the wisteria. She always had garden scissors with her. She would cut and trim the plants, trying to push them back. But they always grew back stronger and spread even more. It was very tiring. The beauty she loved at first now made her feel trapped. The sweet smell sometimes felt too strong, making it hard to breathe.
“They’re just trees,” she’d tell herself, trying to ignore the growing feeling of fear. “It’s an old house, it needs fixing up.” She loved the idea of this house, the dream she had for it. She had put so much work and hope into it. Leaving felt like giving up, like saying the beauty wasn’t worth fighting for. She remembered the early days, how lovely the first flowers were, and she wished things could be like that again. She thought, “I can handle this. I can make it good again.”
But the wisteria didn’t care about her work or her memories. It kept growing, pushing forward. Stems got into the attic and moved some of the roof tiles. The sound of branches rubbing against the house was always there, like a constant, scary whisper. Jack used to like the sound of the leaves, but now he sometimes woke up scared, his little face worried, just like hers.
One morning, Sarah woke up and saw a thick wisteria stem had pushed through a crack in the nursery window. Its tip was opening up just inches from Jack’s crib. The beauty wasn’t just outside anymore; it was inside, where it wasn’t invited, and it felt wrong. The air in the room felt heavy, and the sunlight was blocked by all the leaves pressed against the window. In that moment, she realized the truth. The wisteria wasn’t just making the house pretty; it was hurting it, making it unsafe, and stealing the light. It was taking, not giving.
The thought of leaving was scary. This house was her home. It was part of who she was as a mother and part of her dreams. Where would she go? What would people say? She felt ashamed to admit that the beautiful outside of the house hid something that was falling apart and dangerous. But when she looked at Jack, who trusted her completely, she felt a new kind of strength – the strong, sure strength of a mother.
With shaky hands, she called her oldest friend, Lily. The words came out in a rush – her fear, how tired she was, and how she now knew she couldn’t fix the problem. She realized the wisteria would just keep taking over until it had ruined everything.
Lily didn’t blame her. She didn’t say things like, “But the trees are so beautiful.” She just said, “Sarah, you and Jack need to leave. We’ll figure out everything else. You’re not alone.”
Leaving was the hardest thing Sarah had ever done. Walking away from the wisteria-covered cottage felt like leaving a part of herself behind. Sometimes she doubted her choice, and the memory of the wisteria’s beauty tried to pull her back. But with every mile she got further from the house, the air felt a little fresher, and it was easier to breathe. She was choosing the path away from toxic.
She and Jack stayed with Lily. Then another friend, Maya, let them stay at her home too. Being with friends who supported her and cared for her helped Sarah start to feel better. There were no growing vines in Lily’s bright apartment, no heavy flower smell, only sunshine and the happy laughter of friends who saw her for who she was and loved her.
Slowly, the dark feelings that the wisteria had brought began to go away. She found a new apartment. It was a simple place, but it was full of light. From its windows, she could see the wide-open sky. One day, Lily brought her a small jasmine plant in a pot. Its soft white flowers smelled sweet, but it stayed small and easy to care for on her windowsill. It was a gentle reminder that beautiful things don’t have to be harmful, and love doesn’t have to make you feel trapped.
Looking at Jack, who was happy and healthy in their new, calm home, Sarah knew she had made the right choice. The wisteria house, with its pretty but dangerous nature, was a part of her past now. She had chosen to protect herself and her child instead of holding onto a dream that had turned bad. She had found her peace, not in the tangled grip of the wisteria, but with the help of friends who truly cared for her, and in the quiet strength she found in herself.
Time For Self Reflection…
Remember this is not to cause shame but motivation for change, growth and a better life! You don’t have to work on all the questions at once. Do what you feel comfortable with. Focus on the ones that resonate with you. Having a discussion with yourself is a sure path for change, we are proud of you for taking that path! Being honest with yourself will surely bring you light to which path you can choose.
Here are some introspective questions, designed to encourage reflection and promote change:
- Can you identify any “wisteria” in your own life? This could be a relationship, a job, or a habit that initially seemed beautiful but has become harmful or draining.
- What are the subtle signs that something is becoming unhealthy or abusive? How can you become more aware of these signs in the future?
- What makes it difficult to leave a harmful situation, even when you know it’s not good for you? What are the fears or beliefs that hold you back?
- In the story, Sarah’s love for the idea of the house kept her from leaving. Are there any “ideas” or dreams that you are clinging to that might be preventing you from seeing reality clearly?
- Where can you find support and strength when you need to make a difficult change? Who are your “Lily” and “Maya”?
- What does a healthy, supportive relationship look like to you? What boundaries do you need to establish and maintain?
- Are you in a current abusive situation? Click the dots…
- What steps can you take to create a life filled with “sunshine” and the “easy laughter of friends” rather than the suffocating feeling of being trapped?
- How can you cultivate self-love and self-respect so that you prioritize your own well-being and happiness?
- What is one small step you can take today to move towards a more positive and healthy future for yourself?
- Reflecting on Sarah’s journey, what can you learn about your own resilience and ability to find peace and strength, even after experiencing hardship?
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