A known and seen queen.
“Who am I?… I don’t know.”- Derek Zoolander
We live in a culture that loves an underdog story. We are constantly saying “who cares what they think…” “be yourself…” yada yada yada… yet, what is true for me is that I want to be seen. Not necessarily by everyone, but by an audience that appeals to me. I always felt a little unseen growing up. Not anyone’s fault. My family loved on and championed me. I was praised by my parents enough. It was more about the community that I lived in. I grew up the youngest of three girls. My older sisters were pretty, likable, smart, confident, and popular. I wanted to be them and loved the way they were loved in a crazy kind of way. But I wasn’t them and I felt like I was always being reminded of that fact. Looking back I’m sure i’ve over dramatized some memories, but certain statements have stained my brain. Once at a family event a beloved aunt could see the hurt in my eyes, and in a way that I know she only meant to be comforting, she killed me. She tenderly took the back of my hand and said, “Oh it’s ok Kris, I know how it feels to be the heavy one in the family.” Ooof.
The only time I ever felt like I could escape their shadows was when the three of us could be together. I never have to be anyone other than myself when we are together and it’s incredibly liberating. But in that small town culture and school that I came of age in, for better or for worse, I was always their little sister. I would often self-sabotage so I could stand apart from their legacy by not doing things that I actually loved simply because they did it and were successful at it. Dance for one. They were known as the “Flying Rezinas Sisters” because in showchoir they were small and were able to do all the acrobatic tricks. Meanwhile, I once had to be moved out of my floor position that I had worked so hard to get because my dance partner couldn’t lift me. I remember our director asking me once if it was hard to be in the group because my sisters had made such a name for themselves within the showchoir world. Well, yes, ass hole… it is hard. Thank you for seeing at least that much in me. I decided not to try out my Senior year. A lot of it had to do with the rejection sensitivity that I go through and how the director had changed a long standing rule that was if you had been in the choir since your freshman year, you dont have to try out your senior year. When he changed that rule going in to my senior year resigned. I SHOULD have been a shoe-in without having the stress of a try-out. But on top of that, was the hope of freeing myself from the expected. It was an act of rebellion that to this day I’m unsure if I regret or not. Showchoir was all about being seen and heard and expression… and while I loved those things, I hated the feeling of having to measure up to someone.
Studio dance and the Pom Pon squad are other examples of this rebellion. I knew I would love Poms… but I just couldn’t bring myself to try out. The fear of not making it and being the talk of the town… “oh, poor Kristin… Her sisters were both so good on the Pom-pon squad, and she didn’t make it…” Studio dance was a bit easier for me as I actually felt pretty talented in those classes. The problem was I was so young and so eager to try other things. I deserted those classes to go try something a bit more popular…
I’ve lived so many different lives and shed so many layers:
The crazy, highly sensetive baby girl with a fierce temper… the hyper weird little girl who struggled in school… the exhausted and desperate teenager who just wanted to be pretty and popular… the sad and lonely young woman who wanted partnership so badly she sacrificed every bit of self respect… the wild woman who partied too much… the awkward tomboy 20 something… the wife married to Mr. personality/successful… the aunt who wanted more than anything to be a mom…. a mom who wanted more than anything to find herself…
But if I don’t know who or what I’m looking for, how the fuck can I ever find her? I have this crazy desire to be seen and known. I often feel compelled to tell my stories but then wonder if they are actually as interesting as I find them to be. Or maybe there is a different story to tell… or maybe no story at all. At times I feel lost and when someone relates to me or SEES me I feel found. The lesson that has kicked my ass over and over again is to find and see myself before anyone else can.
For far too long I just felt like I was trudging through this life constantly trying on different versions of myself in order to find one that fits. Then I found astrology. I learned my birth chart. I came to understand parts of myself that needed nurturing. I’ve been able to slowly lay down my defensive swords and build healthy boundaries because I feel more confident in my decisions. Finally, the crazy desire to be seen and known as been satiated: I see myself. I know myself. And that feels really fucking good.