I seek out yet another group for help. This one can supposedly provide hope for people who have lost the ability to eat like normal eaters.
As I keep showing up over the months, I slowly but surely learn of ways to honor the house that my soul calls home. One big revelation that sticks with me from the get-go is that what my body looks like is none of my business. What a concept. Intrinsically determined that nothing shall ever take preference over my relationship with the God of my understanding, I declare, “working on myself” a permanent lifestyle.
Sightings of Light
Sitting in front of the computer transferring more of my handwritten autobiographical notes onto a disk this afternoon, it occurs to me that the annoying itch that used to harass my veins off and on for many years no longer visits. Such observation reminds me of yet another phenomenon: Pretender Babe, Hot Shot, and Big Shot Mama have dropped from my conscience in 2002, and Starlight’s death in the beginning of 2003.
Adding to my amazement is the awareness that Romy no longer carries grudges, not even after I shredded the “trillion dollar card” that I got from Ken on Valentine’s Day in 2005, an action I contribute to having gotten ample glimpses of my immense intrinsic value.
As for the rest of the cast of characters on the “committee,” Blushetta and I are getting closer the more I discern that she does not possess the power to take away from my overall worth as a human being. It looks like we are going to be in it for the long haul, although on many days, I seem to be unable to track her down at all.
Tough Gal tunes in sporadically but with most of the drama gone these days, she often ends up grossly underemployed.
Doubt Cloud and Scaredy Cat pester me intermittently, but commonly comply with the memo that states their presence is not appreciated, unless true and valid reason for concern exists.
As for Miss Vanity, she rarely speaks. The few times she does are barely worth mentioning.
Whip Cracker, Fantasia, Lustania, Enviola, Ragelina, and Avengelia, however, at this point, refuse to vacate the premises for good.
Thankfully though, Franziska, whose caring input I seldom ignore, deters their words in the overwhelming majority of incidences; that is, if they get through to me at all. I would not want to lose Franzi for the world, nor Pristina whom I guard like a mother bear to the best of my ability.
~~~
2007
“I love you,” I utter tenderly, caressing the left side of my face with one hand, as if I was petting a kitten while greeting my reflection inside the bathroom mirror. I mean it, I really do. This very moment I do. I know that is all I have—this moment of full attention to what is—may it be as painful, blissful, scary, trippy, mighty, caring, exciting, distorted, happy, agonizing, hopeful, or self-condemning as it wants to be.
I’d be lying though, if I claimed that all my problems ceased to exist, or that I’m forever cured. There is no current cure for my ills. The enemy always lies in waiting, hoping to catch me at a time when the unruly “committee” members inside my head cry Revolution again. In some circles, it is also referred to as “the fuck its.”
Luckily, I am aware that if I stay connected to the outside world, walk the tiger on my leash with grace, and trust that mighty force in the Universe, I can most likely forego such predicament.
With regards to making restitution, my mentors tell me I belong at the top of that list. I do agree it is “I” whom I’ve harmed the most. And showing up for myself and that little girl inside me that I kicked to the curb many years ago, serves as a large part of making “amends” to myself.
Franziska: You do owe yourself the favor to live up to your highest potential.
I hope she’s right because without the convenience of hiding behind my defenses these days, I still often catch myself shying away from wanting to shine. With the daily effort of trying to stay out of my own way, I tightly clamp onto Franziska’s other notion which sets forth that all things that rightfully belong to me will find and attach themselves to my life, given I remain committed to this journey toward wholeness, stay on the path of seeking truth, and assist others in finding theirs. I am.
Looking back at my former conviction that becoming famous or busting the chains of Blushetta’s curse would generate self-esteem, I now stand corrected. To my knowledge, healthy esteem develops by performing esteemable acts—acts that can be as simple as helping others or participating in worthwhile endeavors that touch the soul, others’ and one’s own.
And who could have known, too, that the true jackpot was never to gain the love and adoration of a man, or to win the lottery, but instead acquire the love of something imperceptible to the average eye, provided of course, one comes into possession of the pair of special glasses?
I no longer deny that the saying “one first has to believe it before one can see it” holds actual merit.
Liberation
I am pacing from wall to wall inside my room. “There’s so much I had to let go of,” I moan.
I turn on the light, reach for the computer-typed Freedom List that I had put on paper a few weeks ago, and start reading. Okay…fine…there is no denying. My breath smooths out as I recollect the true magnitude of the gifts that have been bestowed upon me. Thinking about it all injects my frowning face with a feeling of humility and exuberant joy. I read them over again…
Freedom from the urge of wanting to compete with other women’s sexuality
Freedom from needing to be the “hottest” girl in the room
Freedom from the yearning for the label “Best Fuck That Ever Walked the Earth”
Freedom from the obsession and the thirst for fame and super model stardom
Freedom from the urge of needing to fit in with the cool people
Freedom from having to obsessively stare at myself in mirrors, or check my reflection in store windows
Freedom from needing to be labeled “sexy” or “hot” or using those words to describe people, places, or things
Freedom from thinking that I have to laugh when someone tells a dirty joke
Freedom from the urge of having to wear clothes that will ensure a hit
Freedom from the obsession with hard, or soft-core pornographic magazines and films, Internet porn, sex shops, lingerie stores, and anything that portrays people as drugs to others
Freedom from needing to scan places for potential hits
Freedom from the bondage of having to show you that I can get your man to go for me, or divert his attention from you at any time
Freedom from wanting to possess a man, or score unhealthy romantic attention
Freedom from the compulsive need to flirt. I can, if I want to, but as a choice, not a must. This includes freedom from the need to check out who is sitting inside the car beside me at a light, or on freeways
Freedom from the craving to connect with people and/or places of the underworld, such as pimps, figure modeling establishments, massage parlors, escort services, bordellos, hostess and strip clubs, as well as other obscurities
Freedom from the need to receive objectifying stares or sexual compliments about my looks or body in order to feel okay; that includes freedom from the urge to provocatively stretch my limbs in public places or excessively play with my hair in order to get attention, to feel lusted after, or desired
Freedom from the urge of wanting to pursue men that are bad for me
Freedom from bondage of thinking I have to search for “Mister Right” wherever I go, that I have to search at all
Freedom from major drama
Freedom from obsessively listening to radio stations playing nonstop love songs, watching tons of gushy romance flicks, devouring anything tabloid, or joining popular social networking and internet dating sites
Freedom from the desire to numb out in front of the television watching soap operas, music videos, entertainment gossip, and certain types of talk shows to avoid dealing with life on life’s terms
Freedom from the attraction to luxury vehicles and
sports cars, and designer labels on clothes or other products and items
Freedom from the bondage of needing to have my hair colored, or worrying too much about its length or style in order to please a man. Gray hairs are lovingly invited
Freedom from the bondage to sexualize fantasy (on most days)
Freedom from objectifying others in any capacity (on most days)
Freedom from the craving for masturbation (on most days). But, should I on rare occasion succumb to it, the act is no longer driven by compulsivity and binge patterns; neither do I need to revert to extreme measures in order to derive satisfaction
Freedom from bondage to binging on and purging food, and on most days, freedom from the sugar demon
Freedom from the urge to numb what I’m feeling (on most days)
Freedom from the urge to participate in the reality-altering behaviors of others
How freeing to know that…
Just because a drug, thing, food item, clothes, person, event, etc. exists or is offered, it does not mean I am obligated to pick it up, use it, eat it, wear it, be with it, or participate in it.
“I am rich!” I shout.
~~~
I awaken to a new morning. My eyes are closed, as I lay stretched out on my back across the Queen-size mattress inside my room. A comfortable silence permeates through me, guides me to a place of rolling hills that are lined with dense patches of dark green forests. I see a white dove serenely sailing across the lush landscape of peaks and valleys. Rehabbed in wing, I envision being that bird and become the bird.
As I merrily fly on, a herd of colorfully mixed wild horses surfaces below me. The leader, an all-white Mustang stallion, munches on succulent grass several feet away from the rest of his crew.
Without much ado, I land my adobe-red feet atop his croup. The impact makes him startle and jump to the side. I hold on tight, knowing that he’ll eventually calm down again. Realizing that I’m no threat, he reverts back to grazing. I wait a second before hopping down to the ground, placing myself right in front of his chewing head.
He quits eating and looks straight at me. I see his mouth moving toward my lustrous well-groomed silken coat; feel his flaring nostrils sniff me, the warm exhalation of his powerful snorts blowing some of my feathers out of alignment.
My lightweight body moves not an inch, allowing his breath to tickle me. My heart fills with feelings of friendship. I reel a bit, now that the horse’s muzzle gently and playfully nudges my side…once…twice. He stops, promptly returning to the business of ingesting grass.
A short-lived noise from somewhere afar buzzes through the air. The stallion’s head shoots up with a “deer caught in headlights” kinda look on his face. Without missing another beat, he bolts ahead toward the forest that’s visible a mile out in front with the rest of the herd closely pursuing. Utterly exhilarated by the commotion and the sudden swirl upward caused by the whirl-wind cluster that the horses’ spontaneous flight creates, I, too, hurry along, flying about two feet above the lively moving crowd. The sound of their thundering hooves as they chase across the expansive grassland pervades my heart with peace, conveying in its own language that a vital part of my happiness does lie here amongst nature and equines.
And who knows…a tiny drop of gypsy blood might indeed flow through my veins. Gypsies, after all, are known for their connection to horses and nature, are they not? But no matter what the truth to that may be, the one important fact remains: once back to the real world, I can look any fellow human forthrightly into the eye, clean-slated without having to hide a thing.
In the event I come across another one of those dirty magazines amongst the trees or anywhere else for that matter, wrestling against what is trying to get my gaze to disobey me, I will humbly call out to the one who has all power, the same loving force that saved a former wretch like me.
Whatever it may be for you - it, him, her, or them…may you find it now, and may that force bless you, guide you, and keep you.
—Namaste.
And the truth has set me free…
Epilogue
2012
Today, a package I’ve been eagerly awaiting arrives in the mail. With a heavily beating heart, I break through the seals and pull out a maroon-colored piece of linen fabric; a type of head covering that in Moslem circles is referred to as Hijab. For the record, I am not Moslem, at least not at this point, nor is it Halloween, but I happen to strongly identify with the reasons Islamic women value this type of dress code, especially now that I conducted a little research online and found enlightening information about the motivating factors behind that custom. Some of the reasons explain a wish to…
reflect modesty,
deter men from objectifying women for their sexual parts,
encourage males to put forth effort to getting to know a female first and foremost for her personality, and/or
please “God.”
I’m sold.
As I stand in front of the bedroom dresser adjusting the new garb to my head, some of the times I’ve mocked women who covered themselves in such “ridiculous, stupid, pitiful and weak” ways enter my brain space. Well, I wonder who must be the stupid one now. I feel the corners of my eyes fill with tears, but instantly, a humbling sensation that rushes through my veins brings me back to the present moment.
A smile forms, and another, and another, awakening me once again to the fact that the gal who used to make a science project out of convincing others that they needed to take a hit of what she had to offer and gleamed with pride when a man called her a freak or, better yet, a Super Freak pertaining to her nymphomaniac-like performances between the sheets, no longer lives here. I don’t care one bit about where she’s gone.
And even if I knew how to get her to return or to jump off this train that’s headed for “destination unknown,” I wouldn’t dare try, much less board another. If I did, that in and of itself would truly constitute the “stupidest” thing I could ever do.
Pristina: I think I’m here to stay.
Dang good choice, if you’d ask me.
“We can be redeemed only to the extent to
which we see ourselves.”
~ Martin Buber
Afterword
This story is written from the seat of my soul, laced with the spirited dialogue of my “committee,” a cast of characters that personify the varying thoughts that drive and guide me through the circumstances of my existence.
The primary reason for sharing is that I view my life as a miracle today, as well as the fact that I am present to reflect on its events. And like all miracles, they increase in value if imparted to others. At no moment, during, before or after writing this book did I intend to harm anyone with its revelations.
Without a doubt, the folks mentioned in this account were products of their childhood environments or inherited gene pools, or combinations thereof, and they are as innocent as me. We all, one way or another, pay our dues in some shape or capacity. All persons portrayed in the plot shall remain blameless—names, places, and distinguishing traits of nearly all of them have been changed.
Some particulars in this story have been altered for rhetorical purposes, and some dialogue has been re-created from memory. Some scenes are composites of events, and the timelines for some events have been compressed. I’ve presented circumstances as best as I remembered them with ultimate care to convey them from a position of emotional honesty and to bring light to matters that have rarely been explored in depth, or have previously often been misunderstood or misrepresented.
“It’s a whole new world seeing it through sober eyes.”
English Translation of German Words and Expressions (in alphabetical order):
Ach Du liebe Scheiße
Ach – oh
Du – you
Liebe – dear
Scheiße – shit
Translation for: “oh, you dear shit”
It’s a common profanity expression used by a large amount of people of dive
rse ages; often used in baffling, unexpected or shocking situation, or when feeling overwhelmed.
Autobahn
Translation for: “German Freeways” as well as “Austrian Freeways”
Bezirksbefruchter
Bezirk – district
Befruchter – inseminator
It commonly refers to a man who impregnates all the women in a district.
Danke Schön
Danke – Thanks
Schön – Beautiful
Beautiful “Thanks”
Das bricht mir keinen Zacken aus der Krone
That won’t break a prong out off my crown.
Deutsch(e) Mark
Deutsch – German
Mark – German currency before it became the Euro
Die Bremer Stadtmusikanten
Die - the (female article)
Bremen - a city in Germany
Stadt – city, town
Musikanten – musicians
It commonly refers to the city (or town) musicians of Bremen.
Dorn
Translation for: “Thorn”
Feierabend
Feier – celebration
Abend – evening
Translation for: “celebration evening”
It commonly refers to the end of the workday or celebrating the end of the workday.
Feldweg
Feld – field
Weg – dirt road; track
It commonly refers to a track across the fields or a dirt road that leads through the fields.
Freier
Translation for: “client” or “john” or “trick”
Freiheit
Translation for: “freedom” or “liberty”
Friedrichstrasse
Friedrich - a common German first name for males
Strasse - street
Furcht
Translation for: “Fear”
Gute Miene zum bösen Spiel machen
Putting forth a good demeanor to a wicked game
Haferschleim
Hafer – oats
Dealing Flesh Page 28