Girl Power: Then and now

Almost 20 years ago I did a self portrait for a college design course.  I combined my skills in metal work with my love of water colors to create a (very) short book.  I wanted, needed, anyone to see the pain I was in.  The irony of the whole thing is that, at the time,  I thought all of my pain was behind me.  I thought my life was about to begin.  It was college, after all.  That's when life is supposed to begin.  I had found Jesus.  Little did I know I hadn't found Jesus at all.  I had found a group of people whose main purpose was to make people feel unworthy, unloveable, unloveable and unclean.  I was so un, it was unbelievable.

I found this 'church' through my boyfriend at the time.  I left the church after the pastor told him not to marry me because I would never be submissive enough.  Boy, was he right!  I guess that church did me at least one favor.  I'm still mad at those people for ruining Christianity for me, but that is another story in itself.  It isn't this one.  I am happy in my faith now.  It fits me like my own skin and really, what more could you ask for?

This story is about that book and a self portrait written 20 years ago that still applies, but for different reasons.  Fate is a funny little bitch, isn't she?

Made of brass, each piece hand cut and together soldered together.  The image represents a rising sun (Dawn), with a child's hand holding on to the fingers of a parent.

At the time, it symbolized my difficult relationship with my parents, whom I had little to no contact with at the time, as well as my new found relationship with God.  

Now?  Now all I see is my relationship with my beautiful, bright little girl.  That no matter what she and I will weather anything that comes our way.  That child gives me hope with every rising sun.

And so begins our story...

     

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A small child lies waiting for a loving mother to hold her.  The mother never comes, yet the child, she grows anyway.

A hand reaches out of nowhere, yet everywhere, to push the child unwillingly through life.

Many faces surround the frightened child.  Some smiling, most not.  Their eyes reaching into her mind and pulling out her courage, making her want to fight.

She wants to fight, but not alone. From behind something bigger than herself.

As she grows, she ventures out from behind her protector more and more. She is confident that she can stand on her own.

From out of nowhere, yet everywhere, objects are hurled at the girl who stands frightened, taking the abuse.  She longs for the strength she was given once and cries out.

Then I woke up.

So what does it all mean and how have things changed in twenty years?  Everything has changed and nothing has changed.  I am still confused and lost and abused, but I am stronger and smarter and I know what I want.  I have a better idea of who I am and more important, of who I want to be.  And that makes all the difference.

There is still a part of me waiting for my mom to love me, but there is a bigger part of me that accepts that she really does.  It also makes me want to be a better mother every day...for my daughter to never doubt for a second, even when she hates me, which she will, how much I love her. 

There's still that scared little girl who feels attacked at evert turn, forced to make decisions even when I'm not ready to.  I don't think that ever changes.  I still feel the pressure to fight my way through every situation, but I care less and less what others think and more and more what I think.  That is huge for me.  I am no longer fighting alone.  I have my baby to fight with me, and to fight for.  

I am confident and strong.  I can take on the world, no matter what is hurled at me.  I will still and always need a hand and am so grateful that the security I am walking away from will always have my back and be my best friend.  I am a lucky woman.  

I am awake.