Like a Goddess she moved between the memories of those she appeared to. For everyone who saw her, would see something different. Wild golden hair and a mischievous smile. A curvaceous body they longed to touch. Others would see her as a social butterfly, organized and ready to take on the PTO. A shape shifter who mastered the identities of many to please those around her.
Deep inside of her you would see her beating heart, more often than not, described as ice cold. Yet, it beat out the tune that she gracefully danced to. To fit in was once the ultimate goal, but rule breaking was her gift. A slight shift away from what was expected making the choice her own. Her style changes, but she remains true to herself.
Emotions rule her as they swirl in turmoil. Happy to angry, sad to forgetful, and back again. Music being her constant. For those who wish to know her mood, or the message she wants to send, listen. Listen closely to the music she plays or the songs she quotes. A playlist spanning the ages and genres.
But there is a story to be told. One of conflicting identities and warring emotions. It begins like this......
On the brink of twenty-one a broken woman stepped forward from a shattered dream. She brought with her a deep sadness. A longing to find the why of it all. The desire to be free and to never go back into that space. She drove a teal green Ford Ranger around her small town. A flash of teal could be seen streaking down backroads, through popular hangout spots and into the darkened cemeteries. She belonged to no one, and no one could claim her.
Lovers came and went. Her laughter, her smile, her elusiveness was all like a wild yellow rose. Briefly, one made her pause, but too soon he was taken from this world. Dark, haunting music became her solace as she moved about.
Darkness overcame her as a new life joined hers. Anger at herself, at the betrayal, at the unknown. The darkness formed a tunnel that took her down into the depths of a personal hell. One with a child that she didn't know how to care for, a mother who was there, but not there to assist, a father full of judgement. Alone, lost, and needing the love of someone she followed an overgrown path. It would lead her to temptation, to alcohol, to a deeper loneliness. She learned how to manipulate those who were over eager. To spend their money and time on her, and never get a taste of her sweet fruit. There were others she would trick into believing she really cared, while taking only momentary pleasure. Once they slept, she would creep out into the night and never look back. One who was just a wise as she, nearly broke her. Leaving her at rock bottom, broken and shamed.
She rose from the ashes. She came back more a vixen than before. It was during this time she claimed her spirit animal. What is this animal you ask? Why it is a male lion. The realization came after reading a popular book about the dating antics of men. She knew that her dating style was that of a man. Entice them, promise them, bring them to the point of release, and then right when they are ready to swear forever to you, drop them. Walk away and feel nothing. She knew how to properly execute a one-night stand.
In a smoky bar room, with karaoke, or thrumming dance music, and occasionally haunting country melodies, she ruled. She showed up in a blue dress with go go boots, or blue jeans and a t-shirt, solid pink or black track suit. She danced like no one was watching. Twisting her body around so that all the men drooled. Some were disgusted and they were quick to tell her so. She was often surrounded by older men with fat wallets and a drunken desire to have all the pretty young girls. She didn't have to provide much more than a kiss on the cheek or a dance. But on the inside, she was tired. She was lonely. She was ever so sad, and she wanted so much more.
Her favorite lovers were mysterious, and they didn't come around much. They asked nothing from her and expected nothing in return. She could give it to them dirty, she could do a late-night booty call, and then she could walk away. It was really that simple.
But she stepped away from the limelight. She gave herself over to God and those Godly type things. She needed to be reborn. To have her sin burned from her soul. She wanted a new identity and so with a misfortunate circumstance that opportunity was given to her.
Enter a more chaste version of the same woman. One who has chosen to crush the once redneck girl wanna be, the fiery vixen from the bars, the girl in the green ranger. All of it packed away into a chest deep in the back of her memories. She tried to stop swearing, she gave up alcohol, she stopped trying to find love. She devoted herself to this new beginning. The creation of a good mom, a steady job, the owner of home.
Death on her doorstep brought it all about. Lying alone in a cold hospital room with the nauseous smell from the hospital generator below her window, it all came into focus. Her recent romantic notions were beginning to bloom. An unlikely match that would turn her world upside down.
Faith was the center in the beginning of the new romance. But when a decision she had to make would remove one of her children from her nest, she lost her mind. To say she was jaded was putting it lightly. The day word came of the pending decision, she screamed like death was at the door. She sank to the floor as tears flowed freely and violently. Her Dad, and a church friend came to sit with her as she railed against the odds and screamed and sobbed. The pain she felt numbing all thoughts but those of life away from that child. Even after analyzing, and talking to legal aid, she made the best decision she could. This is not one that she has ever forgiven herself for. There is the before and the after.
The following months were grim. An attempt to settle into a new life, in a new place. A place so strange to her. A new life blossoming inside of her, yet the desire to care was hard to achieve. Harsh words from her husband brought her up from the bottom of the sand pit, but they did not erase the deep anger. From here on out, her faith would be hard to maintain, something she fought to keep.
When next we check in, she has lost her grandmother and not one, but two friends. A betrayal that cut to the core, furthering her loss of faith. When all was said and done, she had cleaned up her social media, cut ties with many, and started a blog. The scars from this falling out remain, though faded over time. The reason she won't give all when making friends are based in this betrayal. The undercurrent of anxiety and lack of confidence most likely stem from this very moment.
Far too many times, she was told how she wasn't a second look girl, she didn't try hard enough to make a man want her, let alone stay with her. Accused of not wearing enough make-up, shamed because her hair was so long, told her clothes were not expensive enough. She has waded through all of these words for all of her life. To fit into the boxes, she must hide her true thoughts, her true moods, or feelings. Once her lack of diversity was obvious. Over time her understanding of those who are different blossomed. Acceptance became her mantra and she fully embraced BLM.
The part of her that held her passionate feelings was broken open. Her passion for immigration reform storming into the forefront. Her empathy and marital situation making this something she could throw all her energy behind. She will defend her family to the bitter end. Loving her multiethnic family beyond words. At odds with those who once mattered the most to her. Refusing to conceal her political views any longer.
And as her 40's slowly passed, the inner rage became harder to conceal. The side of her that could be patient, refused to remain patient. And then an awakening when she was served with a court date for a restraining order. But ultimately, regret at unrestrained actions. But the lesson she learned was this "I will no longer be silenced!"
Deep inside of this powerful being, one who can fit the mold of an acquiescent housewife who also happens to be a homeschool mom. The Co-Op activities her kids do which force her to rub elbows with people who drive cars covered in far-right propaganda. The feeling of frustration as she watches them from a distance, knowing that should she shout out who she voted for, she would instantly become an outcast. Frustration that people refuse to say her Hispanic last name correctly, or even that of her children. The curt corrections and no nicknames, you must learn to say their names.
But deeper than that the stirrings of that other identity. The one that balks at domestic duties. Fighting the urge to scream "NO, NO, NO!" The sheer mental exhaustion after a day of teaching. And in this chapter, she is the eager volunteer, the sweet military wife and mom from church, the stand-offish mom at the co-op. But to know her true feelings, you need to be the lucky ones who see her views shared on her social media. She now calls out those who say off color remarks, or racist comments, or any negative against those who are different. Choosing to stand behind a Pride Flag, a BLM Flag, and a Mexican Flag.
And then one came along. But really that one was always there, just in the background. Their lives once strongly connected, remained parallel thought-out adulthood. Two strong women navigating the paths that life was laying before them. The conversations becoming deep and riddled with mystery. Where will this go? How will this end?
She isn't ready to fully spread those golden wings. She isn't ready to embark on a new adventure outside of her current reality. Skirting the edges of the sea of unknown things, not even daring to get her feet wet. While deep inside she checks off the list of things she must daily do.
Olivia J. Stuart
April 19 2022
