When You're Strange...

When you're strange, faces come out of the rain.. Jim Morrison sings. After days of rain, and one more yet to come in San Diego, I'm reflecting on that - and strangeness. Being the weirdo kid in class - at home - well, anywhere- that was me.

I hid it, of course, I played dumb in school, after being studied in what felt like a test tube after scoring perfect on the math portion of the CAT tests in fifth grade; I wanted to hide. I wanted to be left alone - no one knew that if I drew attention to myself at home, it brought all manner of unwanted abuse - I'd rather never even be seen, much less heard, so I hid.

I developed anorexia (undiagnosed) early in life - the smaller I was, the less I would be seen. I could disappear in books, in my imagination, and in the woods where no one could find me until I wanted to be found. That was how I spent my childhood. I could conjure for hours - eat your hearts out, The Craft witches - but no amount of magick or prayers can assist a parent locked in trauma.

When I was in kindergarten, so much happened at that young age that shaped so much of what I am today, what I am healing from, and what I have healed is almost immeasurable. My piece on sacred rebellion (When Love Comes to Town...) speaks to a lot of that - I speak of sacrifice of that path - mine was wrought with abuse at a young age - I am not going to candycoat it. My Mother threw me against a wall as an infant, I have a photo of me at that age with a visible bruise under my right eye, and kindergarten? That's a tale of tragedy, mischief, and inevitable triumph.

My elementary school, Harmony Elementary, in little Harmony, North Carolina, was a K-8 institution. Middle school was an unknown to our neck of the woods, so to speak. After Eighth grade, we graduated and went on to high school - redneck high school to most in the county, North Iredell High (yes, you can google that too). One day, the EMTs brought an ambulance for the kindergarteners to get a close-up view of the inner workings of the ambulance. It was loud, and I didn't care for the male EMTs. No offense, but all the men in my sphere were in my family, so buzz off if you weren't that.

I wanted to go back inside, so inside I went to sit in a dull classroom with these bullshit boring teachers. Across the hall, we had a mock hospital set-up as play. I rounded up a few classmates, and we went over to play. I had a patient in bed, clearly ailing from some horrific illness - taking his blood pressure with Fischer Price's best equipment, with onlookers observing like Residents on rotation. It was the perfect playtime. Then, some nosey assistant walks by and busts us all.

This was 1979/1980 - every one of us had parents who had consented to corporal punishment. We were all beaten with a paddle. I was tiny, 22 lbs to be exact. That's burned in my memory from seeing my records. Not only was this physically wounding, but it was soul-wounding. I felt betrayed, but also that I'd led others astray. After my turn came, I went into the bathroom and saw myself - red-faced with tears and that's when I said to myself, "No one will love you - you are meaningless." The school pinned a nice red note to my shirt to wear home on the bus - which I didn't take off. It was my Scarlet A - I was Hester Prynne.

When I arrived home, my grandmother was livid - "Just wait until your mother gets home!" she growled. If I knew then what I know now, I would have thrown that note out. When my mother received that note, she beat me viciously - nude, with a belt with metal tips. The flesh seemed to rip off with every whip.

Afterward, I hid - I heard my grandfather scream at my mother at what she'd done, and then I heard the worst betrayal, my grandmother saying, "You raised yours, she needs to raise hers." As if some cycle of abuse needed to continue - what could a 5-year-old possibly have done to warrant such abuse? Anyway, I was spanked again at school later on, and I hid like an animal under my bed - I stayed there for two days. Fuck them - I wasn't leaving to endure what I had before - I distinctively knew there was nothing so egregious I could be capable of that I would've deserved that, so I stayed hidden. As I've said before, I attempted to run away at 8, now you know why - and with the death of my grandmother when I was 6, my mother just mentally collapsed thereafter.

I've never shared as much about that timeframe as I have in this moment - the beatings, the rebellion, the freedom I sought in the natural world and unseen realms. Somehow, through all of that and so much more, I learned to forgive and love those who deeply injured me - yet that grace I had not extended unto myself until today - embracing the strangeness, the oddness, the outlier, the anomaly that is me.

"To thine ownself be true," Shakespeare said, so here I am. I wish I could tell you that your shadow work, your healing journey will be easy, but honestly, it won't. Mine is Rue Loco, and maybe yours is, too? And even though each step on that road seems insane and makes absolutely no sense to anyone or anything, keep walking. Keep putting one foot in front of the other regardless of the pace. This isn't a race, there are no opponents, and there isn't even a clock like a time trial in cycling, for example. Just keep going - like the horse that gives its life to the trail, that is me, and if you're reading this, that is you, too. The sacrifice of the Sacred Rebel is for us, to us, for all of us.

So be the Hester Prynne, the V in Vendetta -be all of it FOR YOU. Wear that goddamn Scarlet Letter A like your fucking life depends upon it - because it does. No one can walk the path that you blaze save for angels who may dare to tread it - and by the grace of god, those brave ones are right there with you - shields and swords drawn. They stare in amazement at us - keep walking - keep blazing.

I leave you with The Unseen Path

Where angels dare to tread, a realm unseen,
A world of whispers, where shadows convene,
A place where logic fades, and reason sleeps,
And mystic currents softly creep.

The mortal mind, with its earthly chains,
Can't grasp the beauty that the spirit gains,
In realms beyond, where stars ignite,
And stars whisper secrets in the night.

I'll venture forth, a soul unbound,
To seek the truth that's seldom found,
In realms where angels dare to tread,
Where mortal minds are left misled.The path ahead, a winding maze,
Through starlight paths and mystic haze,
With open heart and spirit free,
I'll find the truth for all to see.

For in that realm, where angels roam,
A deeper meaning finds its home,
And in the depths of the unknown,
A universe of beauty is shown.

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