For most of my childhood, I languished in a cocoon of my own making, hiding from a monster that was trying to pass itself off as a “mother” and mean kids who mistook my meekness as a sign of weakness rather than a sign that I was just hiding from monsters.
When I finally left home, I began – slowly – pecking at the inside of that cocoon, trying so hard to emerge from that shell of loneliness and false safety. As I grew older, I started to poke through the shell and let the air and sunshine, the mist and moonlight, in a little bit at a time.
2023 Skat / MidJourneyAI
What finally emerged from the cocoon was strange and weird and newborn and fresh and raw, a soul seeing light for the first time but also fully aware of (and embracing) the shadows. I don’t think it was a butterfly, colorful and bright, emerging from a chrysalis. I think it was more likely a strangely beautiful moth, fluttering by night under the light of the moon, flittering around the world and alighting on the weird and beautiful ugly things that other people shun. When it flits around, finding its way through the world, it lands on things randomly, fascinated with the wonders of the world.
There is little structure in its wanderings; it finds joy in simple pleasures – it plays and frolicks as it sees fit, spontaneously and serendipitously; sometimes it lands on one thing for a while, stays for a bit and becomes enraptured. But then it’s off again to the next big adventure or the next beautiful thing, where it might land for a moment or a lifetime before moving on again. These are the games I play, the books I read, the shows I get addicted to and spend a month binge-watching, the weird conspiracy rabbit holes I dive into.
People often misunderstand this moth and try to catch it in a net and put it in a cage or, worse, pin it to a board to enjoy it at their leisure. Then they label it and decide what type of moth it is, how it should behave, what its likes and dislikes are, even though they haven’t taken the time to watch it in its free state…only as it’s pinned to their board. The moth stays because it’s contained there or pinned there, but it yearns to fly and explore. It stays there because it’s expected to stay there, and instead of protesting, it simply stays there, maybe fluttering a wing every now and then, maybe escaping for a brief amount of time.
I’ve spent a lifetime learning to love myself and embrace myself for exactly who I am and who I have become. That person is not someone who is set in routine and structure. She’s spent decades learning to keep her inner child alive, to be a free spirit and enjoy the things that give her pleasure. She spent the majority of her first 17 years almost completely friendless – her only friends were her dog, books, and music, in that order, and she lived inside her head. The older she got, the less closed off she became, and she began, bit by bit, to allow people into her world. Even all these years later, the number of people in that world can be counted on the fingers of one hand…because it’s a very exclusive world and only very special people get to enter the gates. They’re the ones who see her weirdness, acknowledge her weirdness, and love her anyway. When one of those people turns against the world – they (exes, ex-friends) get shoved out the front gates, and the world inside shrinks a little; she pulls it inward and the gates remain locked for a good long while.
This is to say, I’ve been burnt by a lot of people in my life, people I thought were friends, but who for whatever reason could not understand who or what I was. They mistake my silence for coldness, my inability to deal with conflict (I freeze) as non-caring. The more they badger me to explain my words or my actions, the more I shrink back into myself, all but retreating back into my broken cocoon.
It took me all these years to realize that other people’s reactions are not my problem. Other people’s inability to understand me is not my fault. The fact that I don’t fit into their way of thinking or being isn’t something I should feel guilty about. I’m happy with my small circle of friends, and I won’t let anyone fuck that up again. Quality over quantity…and finding people who “get” me is more important than holding onto people who don’t care to try.