So what exactly was I looking for in those rooms?
Was I looking for my self? Was I looking for an answer to who I was and should be? Was I desperately seeking out a substitute for my mother figure? Yes, yes, and probably on some level, yes. Being a female always felt very foreign to me; even if I did enjoy chasing boys, dressing up, and playing with dolls. I lived in male dominated households until I was 12 years old, and I always perceived the females in my space as either weak or cold and hurtful.
My aunt definitely dominated her household. But she pissed me off to holy hell, and I felt that she disrespected me whenever the opportunity presented itself. Apparently I got under her skin, even at the age of 12. Her dualistic attitude towards the world and others really turned me off. She had/has alot of "victim" pictures, and I cannot stand people with lots of victim pictures. As it is a debilitating picture that can halt awareness, change, and development of the self. I know because I have felt its draw, temporarily fallen into its set trap, and later had to climb out and choose to turn away from it. I saw that much of her self-image was a cultivation/composition of how others percieved her. Which, by the way, I exploited to no end when I felt my freedom infringed upon. This took the form of theatrical and very public name calling and cursing, and other dramatics.
It was a confusing time, where I felt unsure of how I was supposed to act and what role I was supposed to play. Was I a daughter, a friend, an extended houseguest? I felt like an inmate. I was by blood definition, a niece, and had no clue as to what that meant and how to personify that. This was, by the way, my first real exposure to family since my mom had dissapeared. Furthermore, I was confused by the mixed messages my aunt sent me. If I was like "family" than why was she so blantantly insensitive towards me at times? And what defined a "family," anyhow? Most of our "family quality time" seemed like a spectacle to me; a showcase of sorts. I felt like I had to perform constantly, and it was wearing me thin. I was accustomed to living in households where people barely paid attention to me; and my greatest relationships were with my self, the natural world, and the characters I created. It felt like a lot of pressure, and alot of confusion.
Anyway, it is interesting to think about why my spirit chose or mocked-up these relationships, and mocked-up the absence of others. I certainly have had to teach myself alot, and look within for the answers, and to find my own truths. Also, my definitions of strong female archetypes stem mostly from a construction of my own design (though I love stuff like Buffy the Vampire Slayer,female pop stars, and the goddess themed novels by Elizabeth Cunningham.)
It is a wholly new way and embodiment of looking and being, and I am most grateful for that opportunity. It is both soft and sharp. It has no limits and no barriers asides from the ones it self imposes. It sees and seeks truth and beauty, in everything and everyone. It is all knowing, and all powerful. It is both a source of creation and inspiration. It is weightless, shape-shifting, and symbolic of transformation. Both the butterfly and the beast.
John Waterhouse The Tempest
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