The Woman-Child
A few days ago I began discussing my attraction to the Man-child. I ended that discussion with a question - Where does the child that lives in LightAndShadow go?
I tucked this question away confident that the answer would come. I didn’t try to force the light bulb moment. I simply knew that all I had to do was let my subconscious churn and wait for it. So, I waited.
Understand that I’ve never really been a child. Not really. I’ve never played the child role. Instead, I acted as a child who acted as an adult. At least that is what I tried to do. But we all know that children no matter how precocious do not have what it takes to function as adults. Heck, a lot of adults don’t have what it takes to function as adults. But as a child - I, in a state of hubris, thought that I could turn off the kid stuff, the childish wants, the need to be cared for, the fear of the unknown, and yes, even the youthful joy and easy acceptance of life.
My lack of trust in the world around me was evident even then. It sprang from life with a demanding and emotionally distant father. It sprang from life with a mother I thought was letting herself get stepped on. It sprang from my inability to understand the world of adults coupled with my desire to do just that… understand the adult world. So, I set out to make the child that I should have been into the woman that I was in no way ready to be.
It is funny to remember how I did it.
Step One: Study Adult Behavior
Instead of making friends and playing with children in the neighborhood, I sat on the edge of the adult world and listened. I can’t tell you how many times my mother or grandmother had to sho me away!
“Child, go outside… this is grown folks business!”
Oh, now that was the wrong thing to say. My immediate reaction to any hint of adult secrets being revealed went something like this:
“Grown folks you say? Well, I’ll make myself small and unobtrusive, but I ain’t goin’ nowhere if there’s grown folks business being discussed up in ‘ere. Ain’t a game of Hide and Seek interestin’ enough to get me to leave.”
So, that’s what I did. I learned to make myself small. I stayed out of the way. I kept quiet and I listened. To every word… spoken and unspoken. By the time it was all said and done I knew everybody in town’s personal business. I knew where all the bodies were buried and how they got there.
Now, my dad was a different story. Like I said, he was distant and uncommunicative. He traveled all the time and I suspected it wasn’t always about business. So, Miss Curious Cat set about finding out the secrets of a man’s world. He wasn’t sayin’ so I learned to be quite the little detective. That man couldn’t put a piece of paper down or engage in a phone conversation without me snooping. Yes, I went through my father’s dresser drawers, and pockets. I poured over the contents of his briefcase. The glove compartment was a treasure trove of information. Nothing was off limits. If it could be found, I found it. Phone numbers on matchbooks, bank statements, receipts, desperate letters from women he was finished with, and love notes from those he was not. And the most telling thing of all… a rental agreement for a condo downtown. My, my, my!
The next big learn how to be an adult study tools were found not in people, but in books.
My mother was a reader and my college age aunts were readers. Not only were they readers, but they had tempting personal libraries - unguarded personal libraries. And in their midst was a very curious little cat secretly sniffing around for access to the adult world.
I read books no child should read. A couple of them stand out in my mind…
Five Smooth Stones
Jubilee
The Agony and the Ecstasy
The Stranger
The list goes on and on. Yes, I did the whole Watership Down, Lord of the Rings, Lord of the Flies youth classics, but I went way beyond that. Way beyond.
My cousin’s grandmother was the romance novel source. She unwittingly introduced me to heaving bosoms and pulsating manhoods. In the forth grade I learned words like rogue and vixen. Lord have mercy!
Step Two: Develop an Aversion to Childishness
As I found my way around in the adult world, I developed an aversion to what I saw as childishness. I had no interest in it, and really, if the truth be told, no tolerance for it. I despised dolls. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to dress and undress a plastic Barbie doll that didn’t “do” anything. My cousins would want to “play” Barbie and I was at a loss.
“What does she do? How do you play with this?” I’d ask genuinely perplexed.
“You pretend!” my cousin told me.
“Huh? Pretend what?” I just didn’t get it.
I did, however get trains and magic kits and erector sets. Now, those I got. I could “do” something with a model car. But I wasn’t going to sit around pretending that this little plastic person was getting dressed to go out with a plastic man. Naw, I left Barbie the ‘ell alone and laid dominoes all over the kitchen floor so I could knock them over and watch the chain of events. I came up with some pretty complicated layouts.
When I wanted to play a game I went to my grandmother. I couldn’t annihilate her. She taught me to take a game of Scrabble seriously. She taught me to go for blood when I heard the clacking sound of a deck of cards being shuffled. She taught me to fight my way through the crossword puzzles in the newspaper. And she taught me to savor every victory and enjoy every moment.
I played when I was growing up… just not with kids.
Step Three: Take Yourself In Hand
The final step in turning the child that should have been into the adult that had no business being was probably the most detrimental.
I took myself in hand.
Once I figured out that adults were stoic and children were emotional… once I figured out that adults ruled and children followed… once I figured out that adults held it in and children let it out… once I figured out that adults worked and children played…once I figured out that adults were strong and children were weak… once I figured out that adults blinked back the tears and children actually cried them… once I figured all that out I went about doing what I believed adults did. And when I couldn’t do it, when I couldn’t get it right I did what adults did… I punished… I punished myself.
I didn’t need my real parents to take me in hand and correct my bad behavior. No, I did their job for them.
If I got overtired and frustrated, if I whined and complained, if I cried or showed weakness, if I failed to suck it up fast enough I gave myself a good talking to.
“Stop acting like a baby,” I told myself, “just grow up!”
I was no older than eight.
I recall standing in the bathroom balancing myself on the sink so I could get a good look in the mirror. I was terrified to go to school the next day because a dog had messed with me earlier that morning.
My dad always dropped me off several blocks away from school. He worked downtown and the school was in the opposite direction. To save time daddy let me out and I’d walk three blocks to school. I was in the third grade. It wasn’t wrong to not take me all the way. It was simply more convenient for him, but there was this dog that scared me. Terrified me. Everyday he’d let me out of the car and I’d just stand there afraid to walk up the hill and past the house where the dog lived. When I say I was afraid I mean that I was pee-my-pants scared.
The street I had to travel was essentially deserted. Just me and that big yellow dog. Most days, to avoid him – the dog that haunted my dreams - I’d wait till my dad pulled away, walk two blocks over and up a busy main street to the road the school was on, then turn and walk the final two blocks to school. This route more than doubled the trip, but I felt safer – not safe - just safer. Either way I went, by the time I got to school I was a wreck. It took me most of the morning to recover from the ordeal.
There were days when my father would run late. Doubling the walk meant being late for school. Being late meant getting a demerit. A demerit would be reported to my parents. A demerit was bad… like a sin! On those days, I had no choice. I had to face the dog. I had to listen to him growl and bark at me. I had to see the hate in his eyes. I had to hope and pray that he wouldn’t get out of his yard and kill me. Facing that dog was so hard, but as scared as I was of facing that dog, I was even more afraid to admit to my father that he was there… that I was afraid of him… that I wanted my daddy to take me all the way. As afraid as I was of that dog I was more afraid to let my father know that I was a coward.
The morning of the day I stood looking in the bathroom mirror it had finally happened. The dog came for me.
As I approached his house I saw the gate open. I froze. “Turn back,” the voice in my head said. I looked in the yard. I couldn’t see the dog. “Maybe he’s inside,” I told myself, “Go ahead. Walk on!” Turn back! Go forward! Turn back! Go forward! I didn’t know what to do with the conflicting messages. I wanted to cry. I wanted my dad. I wanted to disappear. Well, the dog made the decision. I heard him growl behind me and I thought I’d faint. He was out of his yard standing a car length or two behind me. The hairs on his back were standing up, he prepared to charge me, I thought of the scene from the movie To Kill A Mockingbird with the dog who had rabies, and I screamed. I screamed bloody murder. That’s when the mailman appeared. Out of nowhere, there he was between the dog and me.
“Go on, now!” he told the dog, “Git!”
The dog reluctantly turned and walked away. He looked back over his shoulder a few times, but he trotted off.
I remember looking at that mailman like he was God. I was sniffing back my tears, trying to compose myself, and he sort of tapped me on the head with a handful of letters, and said, “You git, too! Off to school with ya, little girl!”
Too shocked to even say thank you I ran up that hill to school.
So, there I was, a third grader scared to go to school, ashamed to tell my daddy why, and praying that the mailman would be there to protect me the next time the dog got out. I remember looking in the mirror and saying…
“You Idiot... You just grow up!”
So, where does the child that lives in LightAndShadow go? I guess she just grows up and goes away!
Here's to working through to the truth!
I tucked this question away confident that the answer would come. I didn’t try to force the light bulb moment. I simply knew that all I had to do was let my subconscious churn and wait for it. So, I waited.
Understand that I’ve never really been a child. Not really. I’ve never played the child role. Instead, I acted as a child who acted as an adult. At least that is what I tried to do. But we all know that children no matter how precocious do not have what it takes to function as adults. Heck, a lot of adults don’t have what it takes to function as adults. But as a child - I, in a state of hubris, thought that I could turn off the kid stuff, the childish wants, the need to be cared for, the fear of the unknown, and yes, even the youthful joy and easy acceptance of life.
My lack of trust in the world around me was evident even then. It sprang from life with a demanding and emotionally distant father. It sprang from life with a mother I thought was letting herself get stepped on. It sprang from my inability to understand the world of adults coupled with my desire to do just that… understand the adult world. So, I set out to make the child that I should have been into the woman that I was in no way ready to be.
It is funny to remember how I did it.
Step One: Study Adult Behavior
Instead of making friends and playing with children in the neighborhood, I sat on the edge of the adult world and listened. I can’t tell you how many times my mother or grandmother had to sho me away!
“Child, go outside… this is grown folks business!”
Oh, now that was the wrong thing to say. My immediate reaction to any hint of adult secrets being revealed went something like this:
“Grown folks you say? Well, I’ll make myself small and unobtrusive, but I ain’t goin’ nowhere if there’s grown folks business being discussed up in ‘ere. Ain’t a game of Hide and Seek interestin’ enough to get me to leave.”
So, that’s what I did. I learned to make myself small. I stayed out of the way. I kept quiet and I listened. To every word… spoken and unspoken. By the time it was all said and done I knew everybody in town’s personal business. I knew where all the bodies were buried and how they got there.
Now, my dad was a different story. Like I said, he was distant and uncommunicative. He traveled all the time and I suspected it wasn’t always about business. So, Miss Curious Cat set about finding out the secrets of a man’s world. He wasn’t sayin’ so I learned to be quite the little detective. That man couldn’t put a piece of paper down or engage in a phone conversation without me snooping. Yes, I went through my father’s dresser drawers, and pockets. I poured over the contents of his briefcase. The glove compartment was a treasure trove of information. Nothing was off limits. If it could be found, I found it. Phone numbers on matchbooks, bank statements, receipts, desperate letters from women he was finished with, and love notes from those he was not. And the most telling thing of all… a rental agreement for a condo downtown. My, my, my!
The next big learn how to be an adult study tools were found not in people, but in books.
My mother was a reader and my college age aunts were readers. Not only were they readers, but they had tempting personal libraries - unguarded personal libraries. And in their midst was a very curious little cat secretly sniffing around for access to the adult world.
I read books no child should read. A couple of them stand out in my mind…
Five Smooth Stones
Jubilee
The Agony and the Ecstasy
The Stranger
The list goes on and on. Yes, I did the whole Watership Down, Lord of the Rings, Lord of the Flies youth classics, but I went way beyond that. Way beyond.
My cousin’s grandmother was the romance novel source. She unwittingly introduced me to heaving bosoms and pulsating manhoods. In the forth grade I learned words like rogue and vixen. Lord have mercy!
Step Two: Develop an Aversion to Childishness
As I found my way around in the adult world, I developed an aversion to what I saw as childishness. I had no interest in it, and really, if the truth be told, no tolerance for it. I despised dolls. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to dress and undress a plastic Barbie doll that didn’t “do” anything. My cousins would want to “play” Barbie and I was at a loss.
“What does she do? How do you play with this?” I’d ask genuinely perplexed.
“You pretend!” my cousin told me.
“Huh? Pretend what?” I just didn’t get it.
I did, however get trains and magic kits and erector sets. Now, those I got. I could “do” something with a model car. But I wasn’t going to sit around pretending that this little plastic person was getting dressed to go out with a plastic man. Naw, I left Barbie the ‘ell alone and laid dominoes all over the kitchen floor so I could knock them over and watch the chain of events. I came up with some pretty complicated layouts.
When I wanted to play a game I went to my grandmother. I couldn’t annihilate her. She taught me to take a game of Scrabble seriously. She taught me to go for blood when I heard the clacking sound of a deck of cards being shuffled. She taught me to fight my way through the crossword puzzles in the newspaper. And she taught me to savor every victory and enjoy every moment.
I played when I was growing up… just not with kids.
Step Three: Take Yourself In Hand
The final step in turning the child that should have been into the adult that had no business being was probably the most detrimental.
I took myself in hand.
Once I figured out that adults were stoic and children were emotional… once I figured out that adults ruled and children followed… once I figured out that adults held it in and children let it out… once I figured out that adults worked and children played…once I figured out that adults were strong and children were weak… once I figured out that adults blinked back the tears and children actually cried them… once I figured all that out I went about doing what I believed adults did. And when I couldn’t do it, when I couldn’t get it right I did what adults did… I punished… I punished myself.
I didn’t need my real parents to take me in hand and correct my bad behavior. No, I did their job for them.
If I got overtired and frustrated, if I whined and complained, if I cried or showed weakness, if I failed to suck it up fast enough I gave myself a good talking to.
“Stop acting like a baby,” I told myself, “just grow up!”
I was no older than eight.
I recall standing in the bathroom balancing myself on the sink so I could get a good look in the mirror. I was terrified to go to school the next day because a dog had messed with me earlier that morning.
My dad always dropped me off several blocks away from school. He worked downtown and the school was in the opposite direction. To save time daddy let me out and I’d walk three blocks to school. I was in the third grade. It wasn’t wrong to not take me all the way. It was simply more convenient for him, but there was this dog that scared me. Terrified me. Everyday he’d let me out of the car and I’d just stand there afraid to walk up the hill and past the house where the dog lived. When I say I was afraid I mean that I was pee-my-pants scared.
The street I had to travel was essentially deserted. Just me and that big yellow dog. Most days, to avoid him – the dog that haunted my dreams - I’d wait till my dad pulled away, walk two blocks over and up a busy main street to the road the school was on, then turn and walk the final two blocks to school. This route more than doubled the trip, but I felt safer – not safe - just safer. Either way I went, by the time I got to school I was a wreck. It took me most of the morning to recover from the ordeal.
There were days when my father would run late. Doubling the walk meant being late for school. Being late meant getting a demerit. A demerit would be reported to my parents. A demerit was bad… like a sin! On those days, I had no choice. I had to face the dog. I had to listen to him growl and bark at me. I had to see the hate in his eyes. I had to hope and pray that he wouldn’t get out of his yard and kill me. Facing that dog was so hard, but as scared as I was of facing that dog, I was even more afraid to admit to my father that he was there… that I was afraid of him… that I wanted my daddy to take me all the way. As afraid as I was of that dog I was more afraid to let my father know that I was a coward.
The morning of the day I stood looking in the bathroom mirror it had finally happened. The dog came for me.
As I approached his house I saw the gate open. I froze. “Turn back,” the voice in my head said. I looked in the yard. I couldn’t see the dog. “Maybe he’s inside,” I told myself, “Go ahead. Walk on!” Turn back! Go forward! Turn back! Go forward! I didn’t know what to do with the conflicting messages. I wanted to cry. I wanted my dad. I wanted to disappear. Well, the dog made the decision. I heard him growl behind me and I thought I’d faint. He was out of his yard standing a car length or two behind me. The hairs on his back were standing up, he prepared to charge me, I thought of the scene from the movie To Kill A Mockingbird with the dog who had rabies, and I screamed. I screamed bloody murder. That’s when the mailman appeared. Out of nowhere, there he was between the dog and me.
“Go on, now!” he told the dog, “Git!”
The dog reluctantly turned and walked away. He looked back over his shoulder a few times, but he trotted off.
I remember looking at that mailman like he was God. I was sniffing back my tears, trying to compose myself, and he sort of tapped me on the head with a handful of letters, and said, “You git, too! Off to school with ya, little girl!”
Too shocked to even say thank you I ran up that hill to school.
So, there I was, a third grader scared to go to school, ashamed to tell my daddy why, and praying that the mailman would be there to protect me the next time the dog got out. I remember looking in the mirror and saying…
“You Idiot... You just grow up!”
So, where does the child that lives in LightAndShadow go? I guess she just grows up and goes away!
Here's to working through to the truth!
posted by LightAndShadow at
1:50:00 PM
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