Home?
"But I've always had this sense that there's something out there, waiting for me. Not here, in the World As It Is, but in the dreamlands. That there's a place for me in Faerie and I'll be there one day if I can just be good enough, or patient enough, or tenacious enough. Or...- It's a place where I'd be home, really home. I want it so badly sometimes that just thinking about it hurts."
-Jilly Coppercorn "The Onion Girl" -Charles de Lint
It's creepy when you find a thought you've held to yourself your entire life spelled out in black and white like that. When you see something you've had at the back of your mind for as long as you can remember printed out as someone else's words... A feeling hits you, and it's indescribable. On the one hand, you feel relief. There's the "Whew! So I'm not the only one! So I'm *not* crazy!" And then there's the ache, the "...maybe I can only find it in books, in 'let's play pretend' games." It's hard to explain, much less describe properly.
How can I say it? Jilly said it for me. All of my life, I've gotten this niggling feeling that I'm not where I belong. Maybe that's why I spent my childhood making up worlds, adventures and people to share them. Of course, it could just be that I'm really, really crazy. I've never been able to quite figure it out. All I know is that the idea really hits, and always subconsciously, when I'm really, really upset. I always find myself whimpering that I want to go home. Home is where the heart is, they say. So what does that mean for me? Where *is* my heart then?
It's hardest when I've been working a lot, or worrying about bills and housework. I find myself staring at my books, my fantasy movies, my role-playing stuff and wondering if that's all it is: fantasy. If maybe I'm just one of those otherkin you see online, claiming to be the tenth incarnation of the Great Elven Queen from a thousand years ago. If I really am what I've been called almost every day of my life: crazy. When I'm the only one in the movie theatre crying over the death of Prince Nuada during Hellboy II, is it possible to feel anything BUT crazy? That no one else mourns the loss of magic? That no one else looked at the screen and prayed places like that are still hidden in the world?
I read Changeling: the Dreaming books, and all I feel is this sense of solidity. It's not fanciful cobweb, it's not intangible gossamer to me. I can *see* the reality of it in everyday life. People who become too banal, too bogged down by everyday worries turn into these Autumn People who forget they ever had dreams. Artists who spend all of their time worrying about their creativity kind of go nuts; they forget about bills, housework and things like that. I can *see* what the damn game describes, and to me, it's not fake. It's not made up. It doesn't feel like make-believe. What does that make me? A loon? I've gotten to the point that I wish I *was* certifiably crazy. At least then I'd have an excuse. I wouldn't feel like I had to hide what I think, what I believe. I've been called crazy and laughed at too much to be able to just...I don't know...be me, I guess?
It's funny. My last boyfriend told me that one of the things he loved about me was the dreams in my eyes. Yet, he was the one who lectured me about 'embarassing' him when we were out with friends. I was too loud, too wild, too exuberant, too this, too that. I've always been 'too' something in my life. There have only been....*counting* five people in my life who haven't told me I need to change, that I need to 'downgrade' to fit in. (My brother, my current boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend Gordon, Fenshae and one of my best friends.) Only five. Out of all the people I've met in my life, only *five* of them have taken me as I am. Does everyone have a demographic like that? How many of the people in our lives truly know us? How many of them accept our quirks, our needs, our demands and wants and just go with it? And when you think about it, how often do we do that for someone else?
I'd like to think I'm that kind of friend. That I just accept people the way they are and love them *because* of it, not *in spite* of it. My mom says "I love you no matter what." You know, that's a really sweet sentiment, but when you *think* about it, it's almost a little hurtful. No matter what? And what does that specify? 'I love you even if I hate most of what makes you?' Why put limitations on that? Do you *need* to tell someone that you love them 'no matter what?' Why can't we just say "I love you" and have that say all it needs to?
What does all of this say?
Honestly? Nothing. I'm not trying to get a rampant point across, merely express the sense of displacement I've had, the sense that I'm not where I belong. I wish it was something I could explain away, something that I could clearly state "I'm schizophrenic, and therefore, I have strange feelings." However... I can't. There's nothing I can use to explain the fact that I've felt I was in the wrong place since I was a small child. (While one could argue my experiences in public school could contribute to escapism and such, I had these feelings before my school experiences became unpleasant.) There's nothing else I can say beyond the fact that I don't think I'm home, even when I'm sitting in the apartment that's been Neko's and mine for fourteen months.
Perhaps this is evidence for my claim to be an angelic (with possible fae blood and/or previous incarnation as fae) otherkin. (Yeah, laugh if you like. ^_^ I'm okay with mockery. Been there and done that often enough.) Perhaps it's simply that there's something very, very inherently wrong with me, and it can't be fixed. *shrug* Either way, I hope to find where I'm meant to be one day, and maybe then, I'll feel entirely comfortable for the first time in my life.
-Jilly Coppercorn "The Onion Girl" -Charles de Lint
It's creepy when you find a thought you've held to yourself your entire life spelled out in black and white like that. When you see something you've had at the back of your mind for as long as you can remember printed out as someone else's words... A feeling hits you, and it's indescribable. On the one hand, you feel relief. There's the "Whew! So I'm not the only one! So I'm *not* crazy!" And then there's the ache, the "...maybe I can only find it in books, in 'let's play pretend' games." It's hard to explain, much less describe properly.
How can I say it? Jilly said it for me. All of my life, I've gotten this niggling feeling that I'm not where I belong. Maybe that's why I spent my childhood making up worlds, adventures and people to share them. Of course, it could just be that I'm really, really crazy. I've never been able to quite figure it out. All I know is that the idea really hits, and always subconsciously, when I'm really, really upset. I always find myself whimpering that I want to go home. Home is where the heart is, they say. So what does that mean for me? Where *is* my heart then?
It's hardest when I've been working a lot, or worrying about bills and housework. I find myself staring at my books, my fantasy movies, my role-playing stuff and wondering if that's all it is: fantasy. If maybe I'm just one of those otherkin you see online, claiming to be the tenth incarnation of the Great Elven Queen from a thousand years ago. If I really am what I've been called almost every day of my life: crazy. When I'm the only one in the movie theatre crying over the death of Prince Nuada during Hellboy II, is it possible to feel anything BUT crazy? That no one else mourns the loss of magic? That no one else looked at the screen and prayed places like that are still hidden in the world?
I read Changeling: the Dreaming books, and all I feel is this sense of solidity. It's not fanciful cobweb, it's not intangible gossamer to me. I can *see* the reality of it in everyday life. People who become too banal, too bogged down by everyday worries turn into these Autumn People who forget they ever had dreams. Artists who spend all of their time worrying about their creativity kind of go nuts; they forget about bills, housework and things like that. I can *see* what the damn game describes, and to me, it's not fake. It's not made up. It doesn't feel like make-believe. What does that make me? A loon? I've gotten to the point that I wish I *was* certifiably crazy. At least then I'd have an excuse. I wouldn't feel like I had to hide what I think, what I believe. I've been called crazy and laughed at too much to be able to just...I don't know...be me, I guess?
It's funny. My last boyfriend told me that one of the things he loved about me was the dreams in my eyes. Yet, he was the one who lectured me about 'embarassing' him when we were out with friends. I was too loud, too wild, too exuberant, too this, too that. I've always been 'too' something in my life. There have only been....*counting* five people in my life who haven't told me I need to change, that I need to 'downgrade' to fit in. (My brother, my current boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend Gordon, Fenshae and one of my best friends.) Only five. Out of all the people I've met in my life, only *five* of them have taken me as I am. Does everyone have a demographic like that? How many of the people in our lives truly know us? How many of them accept our quirks, our needs, our demands and wants and just go with it? And when you think about it, how often do we do that for someone else?
I'd like to think I'm that kind of friend. That I just accept people the way they are and love them *because* of it, not *in spite* of it. My mom says "I love you no matter what." You know, that's a really sweet sentiment, but when you *think* about it, it's almost a little hurtful. No matter what? And what does that specify? 'I love you even if I hate most of what makes you?' Why put limitations on that? Do you *need* to tell someone that you love them 'no matter what?' Why can't we just say "I love you" and have that say all it needs to?
What does all of this say?
Honestly? Nothing. I'm not trying to get a rampant point across, merely express the sense of displacement I've had, the sense that I'm not where I belong. I wish it was something I could explain away, something that I could clearly state "I'm schizophrenic, and therefore, I have strange feelings." However... I can't. There's nothing I can use to explain the fact that I've felt I was in the wrong place since I was a small child. (While one could argue my experiences in public school could contribute to escapism and such, I had these feelings before my school experiences became unpleasant.) There's nothing else I can say beyond the fact that I don't think I'm home, even when I'm sitting in the apartment that's been Neko's and mine for fourteen months.
Perhaps this is evidence for my claim to be an angelic (with possible fae blood and/or previous incarnation as fae) otherkin. (Yeah, laugh if you like. ^_^ I'm okay with mockery. Been there and done that often enough.) Perhaps it's simply that there's something very, very inherently wrong with me, and it can't be fixed. *shrug* Either way, I hope to find where I'm meant to be one day, and maybe then, I'll feel entirely comfortable for the first time in my life.