full circle (part 8)

As noted in beach angel, I have been a latch key kid since I was a toddler in Vietnam. It teaches one to be responsible at a very young age, and in my case, unusually young, coupled with having to also look out for my younger brother (less than a year younger - full circle (part 6)). It is a lot to put on a child who is just sprouting her own wings.

In many ways, it was a lonely endeavor, and took away a lot of the innocence and frivolity of childhood. Sometimes, I think this is why the child-like behaviors come out in me as an adult, trying to capture viewing the world through the eyes of a child. I still believe in miracles...I love surprises in every day life. I also still have remnants of that child who always asks 'why?'.

In trying to face the fear of 'unwantedness', I wonder if one of the two memories I have pre-fifth grade (moments that matter (part 1)) somehow contribute to my 'madness'. Soon after my sister was born (I had to be pre-kindergarten age, as my sister was still a baby so my mother would take her to Noah's Ark, the daycare center that my mother worked at the time), I was picked up by a police officer who had noticed me wandering the streets alone. It was a very small town so my uttering of Noah's Ark was enough for him to take me to my mother. 

Luckily, it was a different time so my mother got off with a warning rather than having social services take away her children. Needless to say, I did not get off lightly for having left my younger brother at home alone. I do not know what caused me to wander, but I am sure it was a cry for help.

* * * * *

Being immigrants, my parents had to work very hard at low paying jobs. My mother's certification as a teacher was not sufficient in America and she ended up having to go back to school. As a military brat, my father was limited to utilizing his mechanical skills. My mother's night school meant that much of my child rearing days were with my father.

However, because of some extra-curricular activities, I was not able to take the bus home one day. In the days before cell phones, my father forgot to pick me up from school, and everyone, including the janitors had left. It was nightfall by the time my father remembered, most likely because he had gone home after working overtime to make extra cash, and realized I was not there. I stared at the empty parking lot for hours, sitting on the sidewalk, unsure what to do and where to go.

* * * * *

Perhaps these events contribute to my childhood demons of abandonment. David Bowie spent much of his life facing his fears of insanity, as it afflicted many of his family members. He created different personas and music in hopes of eluding his fears. In addressing this theme in his music, he inherently faced it head on. He used his personas to share the pain, as witnessed in Rock 'n' Roll Suicide, where Bowie consoles Ziggy, and David Jones (his birth name) consoles Bowie..."I'll take my share / I'll help you with the pain".

After decades of drug abuse, sex addiction and many personas, he eventually emerged emotionally healthier. While I like to believe I am authentic me, the reality is that over the years, I have masked my inner pains and heartaches by pushing the little girl aside. While some friends know bits of pieces of these stories, I joke about them and brush them off as no big deal, but those moments shaped me in some form or fashion. Inherently, I have created personas with the relatively politically correct, conservative executive; talk a good game virgin (aka Bambi); curiosity killed the cat busy body; brash independent bitch; multi-orgasmic slut (aka Minx); lost, lonely little girl; analysis paraplegic; and many other iterations.

In this year of ME, I am reminding myself of their origins and better understanding their different needs and attributes. It also explains why in certain situations, part of my life, like work, has been roots of unhappiness for years, as my persona there, while immensely successful, is not who I choose or want to be (see stone skipping (part 4)). I communicated to him last December that I was no longer that 13-year old girl, but the reality is...I am. Her childhood adversity and her achievements derived from such adversity is part of me. I can no longer push her away and deny her.

My self is determined by choosing who I am and who I will become. I am upping my ziggy to choose the parts of those personas that is the authentic me, one who is not afraid of being alone, and can find happiness within her own skin and/or in the simple things of every day life.