My dearest and closest friends, the ones I chose to let in, describe me in wonderful ways: I am often called "Faerie", "Changeling", a "creature of light", "black swan", "Devi", and many other wonderful terms. And it has occurred to me that I am, in fact, quite mysterious to others who are either curious or annoyed by my peculiarities. Yes it does make dating difficult, but I make friends easily. I am indeed versatile, which makes it hard to focus on or stick to one task only. And I am quite old fashioned in my ways, though sometimes I find myself slipping into the ways of the world for short-cuts through loneliness and despair. When in short-cut mode, if I've been in too long, I begin to lose myself... forget myself... and then I become depressed. But just when I begin to shake of fear from oblivion, there is always someone or something to remind me and put me back on my path: Curtiss, Rachael, Axel, Logan, Adam, Dee-Dee & Celia, Dad, and my Goddess Mom.
How have I come to be? I ask myself all the time. I already know the answer and I know I have a lot of work to do. I'm just so very lazy, which is unfortunate. I often think of how my life would change if I would just buckle down and do what I'm suppose to do. I know I'd be much happier. And I know I'd make the world happier. I'm so bent on keeping to myself because it's safer, and I receive a lot less (unwanted) attention. Yet, in order for me to do what I am supposed to, attention of all kinds is necessary. So I must work on coming to terms with this.
What sticks out most from my early memories are: books, buckets of sugar, a loud firehouse toy, two large windows, yellow walls, fear, pain, happiness, and transcendentalism. I remember only the important resolutions I've made. I'm still the same person when I was younger. But now, only dumber. I believe I was a lot smarter, more grounded in my ways, than I am now. When I was younger, I was less likely to betray myself for anyone or anything. Because I knew at the end of the day I would come home to my mother's sanctuary, so that I can go into the sanctuary of my mind. School was my favorite sanctuary. The library and music rooms, especially. Had I known about the world I would eventually live in, if I had known the basics of survival, and if I had learned to appreciate myself in my earlier years I know I would have had the confidence and the will to lead a wholesome life.
But I believe things happened the way they needed to. Because it is not the duty of others to provide this. Because this is my journey, there are things I'm supposed to pick up on my own, with the help of others, if they choose to give. It is up to me to discover my beauty, to embrace myself, figure out how to survive, and how to get to where I'm supposed to be. I have to find the courage and strength within myself to wake up and be. I remember there was a point in time when the love of a man and acceptance from others were as important to me as grains of sand trapped between sidewalks. And I was happier. I try to remember what was important to me then. My thoughts often floated to Mom. Time and time again, my thoughts were always of my mother.
I believe my favorite time ever with her was a summer. I was working at the American Horse Shows Association and Mom was working for UBS, I think. I had just reached the peak of being, meaning I was quite secure with myself and Mom glowed so much. She was gamer and I was a skater. I enjoyed the mornings with 1010 WINS flooding the apartment, both of us ignoring the loser in the other room. We danced around each other in the midst of our morning rituals. Mom always looked beautiful in her work-clothes, while I only cared about the best pants to wear for comfortable skating. We'd have shakes for breakfast, then dash out of the door. I remember her fast-paced walking, a workout in itself, and me on my skateboard beside her keeping pace. I would either get on the train with her or I would skate back to the park to warm up before starting the day. Each night I came home, Mom would be adventuring on the computer. I would tell her about my day to one ear while she was in the midst of her campaign. I didn't mind. That summer, we laughed so much. And I opened up to her in ways I've wanted to ever since I was little. My Mom was my best friend. I felt no fear in her presence. Only the respect I've felt towards her ever since I was little. And I believe it was the first time she had the opportunity to get to know me as a person, not just her daughter. The curfew rule was the awesome-est rule any parent could ever think of, as it allowed me the time to experience as much as I can in a whole day without worrying her. I've learned a lot about myself and I felt myself becoming stronger and stronger and more grounded. There were dark times, of course. Very dark times. But they were because of the stupid meds the school convinced me to take, which I later learned I was a test-subject for and institutions are paid by companies to do this. That's a whole other story.
Just when I thought I was sure of myself and my lessons set in stone, the winds of change blew hard and tossed everything I knew into upheaval. It was up to me to decide what to do next. So little by little, I had to find my strength and my courage again. I had to find myself again. I picked up the little pieces of myself that were scattered around and rebuild. The pieces were bound with cheap glue, which was necessary at the time. I've had amazing successes and terrible failures. I try not to be too hard on myself, nor celebrate too much. I've let myself down too much and messed up many wonderful situations because I become afraid. The fear also makes me blind to the wonderful things before me.
The fear came from not having a stable ground to rest my feet on. Suddenly I realized/remembered: I was a skater at one time. The deck was not stable, either, and I was afraid sometimes while standing on it. While on the wobbly deck I was able to get from point 'a' to point 'b' at awesome speeds. And I've often felt comfortable, almost day-dreaming through the ride. So there have been times, as I continue to pick up the pieces, that I am able to maintain stability while on wobbly ground. As long as I remember where I am. My thoughts often float back to the point in time where Mom got to know me and learn about me, and I her. That she learned to trust me. I think I was in her arms once around that time too. :)
I have to get ready to go out.
Mom, if you're reading this: Thanks!!! I love you!!! <3 <3<3