The power of a title, as I’m sure you wouldn’t have read this post otherwise. Seeing as how this is another one that on the surface has little to do with my writing and more to do with the strangeness that goes on inside my head. But since that’s where my stories are born, I’m going to go with the premise that everything I write is in some way, shape or form, appropriate to the purpose of this blog. Said purpose (if you haven’t read me before) is to connect with my readers so they feel confident in shelling out the dollars to buy my books. :-). Is it working?
Anyway, a few posts ago I introduced you to the personalities that share my body/mind. (click here for the post). I mentioned having seen an unidentified baby in the arms of She Who Will Not Be Named. That’s been bugging me ever since I wrote that post. So this morning I went a rooting around in my psyche trying to find it. Well, the baby has been identified. It is indeed a girl, and She Who Will Not Be Named is the birth mother (although if the truth be told, genetically, the baby belongs to all of the human personalities…wrap your mind around that, I dare you).
The baby represents my self-confidence, my self-esteem. Indulge me, and I’ll fill you in. I remember being one fearless (with the exception of spiders, think I’ve always been afraid of those) little kid between the ages of two and seven. I used to take “short-cuts” turning what should have been a five-minute walk from my house to my aunt’s house into a two-hour journey where I wandered all over the place just looking at stuff and talking to people. I adopted stray animals (hedgehogs to feral alley cats), never worrying that they would harm me in any way. I would talk to anyone; adults didn’t scare me (until we’d been in the States for a while, but that’s a different story) and new social situations were a welcomed activity (again, until we moved to the States). I believed I was wonderful and anyone who met me should believe I was wonderful too.
That all came to a screeching halt my first few days in public school my 7th year on the planet. Kids can be amazingly cruel creatures. Lacking in empathy or any kind of open-mindedness (unlike me who seemed to feel too much for and be too accepting of other people at an early age), I was teased for my accent, my ability to read, my passion for writing and my need to talk. Toss in the fact that I had more important things to do than worry about style, whether the boys thought I was cute or not (I was more concerned that they thought I was tough enough to take a tackle but that’s a different blog), or who was going with who and well, you have the perfect target for ridicule, dare I say, scorn as well.
By the time I got to high school, I was adept at being invisible and my feelings of self-worth, confidence, and esteem had been killed. Dramatic I know, but I am a writer. And as a kid, that’s how it felt. It wasn’t just the teasing, there were other traumas in my life that contributed to the murder of my self-image. As you read my books, you’ll find out what many of them were.
Anyway, fast forward to now. I’m still going through this mid-life growth spurt, and in the midst of it, my personalities and I are changing. Hence, the rebirth of my self-confidence. Get it? (I really could be someone’s psych thesis, I swear). Yeah, I know. How amazing is this? I get a second chance to raise her the right way. I didn’t have the tools to protect her the first go-round, but now? I’m armed to the teeth (or rather Onyx and She Who Will Not Be Named are) to defend her from the hate thrown by insecure, often hurting, negative people I come across. Those joy stealing thieves that quite often masquerade as friends / lovers.
Well, going to stop here. I didn’t want this to be a really long post, and quite frankly, it’s another one of those, off the cuff, unplanned kind of deals so I didn’t work out beforehand where to stop. If I don’t put a period on it here, we could be at this for HOURS. And I have work to do. So, thanks again for spending a little time in my head. Now back to our regularly scheduled dance of joy.