Who I Am

For a very long time, that statement used to be a question more along the lines of "Who am I?" I used to know when I was a child and just into my teen years. Then, the world seemed to crumble upon my shoulders by no fault of my own, and life became more about survival than connecting with anyone or anything, including myself.

I used to get so lost in my daydreams, and oh, were there many. Quite creative and entertaining, too. The kind from which great novels are made.

I would sit alone beneath my favorite tree, an old oak, in front of our yard, or in a secreted away garden in a quiet corner in the very back of our backyard, shaded by another oak and the high horseshoe barrier of azaleas alive with swarms of bumble bees that never seemed to mind me being there.

I would lose myself while at parks or nature trails with family at places with wooded areas, happily finding myself alone among the safety of towering pines and pristine creeks, all alive with crickets, frogs, and varieties of birds.

I would stare into the tops of trees during breaks at school while the other children complained about homework or teased and tormented those less fortunate (many times being me). The whispering wind through the dancing leaves would whisk my saddened heart away to some magical land where no one hurt a soul.  So many of my imaginative visions involved such places, where no one was hurt or felt the desire to hurt. All of the daydreams I have now of vengeance and justice used to be of mercy and peace.

The far off lands I could see so clearly in sunset cloudscapes were only a hope away, though now I feel they were only a childhood fairy tale never meant to see the tangible world.

I could smell the sweetest scents of nature from so far away, hear the quietest cry from an infant creature hidden in the trees, sense the presence of another - be it four legged or two, winged or scaled. I knew how to listen and see without eyes or ears. I knew how to talk without uttering a word and earn an animal's trust with a mere coo and gentle smile.

Everything about me screamed Nature. I was of the Earth but so much more. There was something inside of me that somehow reached out to the world around me and seemed to soar into the clouds at any given moment just to bring me joy.

The simplest things meant so much. I never thought of anything more than I could get from the Earth or my own creativity. It wasn't on purpose. I just didn't need more than that, and so I simply did not feel want for more.  It helped that I received nothing.

I was an emotionally and mentally neglected child. When you are starved for affection the way I was, never knowing what it was like from family and getting only a taste from kind strangers you'd never see again, you gather your priorities pretty well and realize there is nothing more important in this world than being wanted, being loved, being cared for and about, and feeling you are worth the love of another human being.

Imagine never receiving it. Never getting that love or affection or feeling you belong and are wanted. Imagine that, instead, you get abused in one form or another and then mocked for it and made to feel it was your fault - no matter how young or innocent you are. Can you even begin to understand what a world set on destroying such a spirit can do to your mind and your heart?

I was raised Roman Catholic but never did I feel it was right. There were more questions than answers, more things that just didn't make sense than anything that sounded remotely possible. I questioned quite a bit, even when I knew it would get me a failing grade in school or my father's wrath at home. I was never satisfied because I felt cheated out of what I knew I was supposed to be and where I was supposed to be.

I remember so many times sitting alone either in my room or tucked away beneath bushes or the oaks around our house. I would cry so hard and beg for whomever might hear me to please let me be where I belonged.

And that brings up another point worth meandering from the topic for just a moment. God.

No matter what we learned in school, I never believed for a minute there was only one god, only one supreme deity. This was one thing I kept to myself always, until one day when I found a small prayer book of my mom's.

It was expected back in my mother's day for all "good Catholic girls" to belong to some catholic organization - Altar Society, Catholic Daughters, Mary's Club, or the group for those interested in the convent or becoming a nun (whether they would become one or not). Some of these clubs had lesson books that the girls must always have on hand and study as if the pope, himself, would drop by for a pop quiz.

My dad had much of my mom's things in a spare room, and I found this book and decided to read it. I read anything I come across in regards to theology. It fascinates me, as it always has, which is probably why I was never duped or brainwashed by the church.

Low and behold! In those very pages before me as the creation of the universe was discussed, quotes from an early bible read, "WE created.... WE saw that it was good... WE formed man and woman..... WE..WE..WE..WE..WE.." ! I felt as though I held in my hand the holy grail of proof to show my dad! Never in school did we see or hear the word "We" in Genesis or any text associated to God - who we were taught worked alone and ruled alone.

I showed my father and he explained it away with, "That means the angels!" I tried to discuss this with him, pointing out that there must come a time when he has to accept the church was wrong. He got angry with me, told me I was corrupt because I didn't attend mass anymore, and demanded an end to the conversation. I was truly saddened by his continued insistence to remain a blind follower, but even that couldn't destroy the elation that came over me in finding that book!

Digression over....

So often when I was a child and beyond, I would sit or lay or kneel or huddle and wonder with all my heart and soul what I could have possibly done in a former life (yes, I always believed in multiple lives) to warrant such banishment in this world among these people in a life and in a place I knew was not for where I was meant.

I did my best not to cry when people hurt me physically or emotionally, it only showed them weakness they could use against me. However, I lost all will or even desire to hold back the tears and the sobs when I thought of how very much I did not belong. Even now, I feel a lump in my throat from the memories. It really hurt so much and for so long. As a matter of fact, it didn't stop hurting until just recently when I discovered finally, after all of these years, after all of the heartache and efforts to remain hopeful that I would someday find my true place, where I belong. Paganism.

To be continued .......