When I look at this picture, I experience a shuddering flashback to my pre-and-into-teen years that I wouldn't return to for all the free dance classes in the world. There was such a confused symphony of emotion going on in that brain/soul of mine. (Though apparently the symphony I was enjoying on my stereo were the sweet sound-stylings of Elton John circa 1973 as seen on my t-shirt, no doubt purchased from the back pages of either creem or Circus magazine, both of which were my music bibles at the time...wish I still had that shirt.)I seem to be telegraphing such a blankness here, though I know that just the opposite was really roiling around inside of me: what am i doing here? am i going to be abandoned? who actually cares anyway? At the time this was taken, my mom and dad had just split up and I specifically remember being worried about my dad's being lonely living without my mom and I. My mom had started dating and I know I was unfairly harsh to her about that. For her, filling in the loneliness that she was feeling was something I, of course, couldn't understand. There were times I'd wake up and she wouldn't be home and I'd be convinced she'd be gone forever and I'd just lie there, thinking, What will I do now? I'd never say anything because...actually the only reason I can think I didn't say anything is because I didn't want to rock the boat, have her get mad at me and give me away. Of course she would never have done anything like that, but such was the irrational pattern of my adolescent brain.
And what I remember is that I just wanted to be told it would be okay. To be assured that someone would be there to hold me, care about me. I'm sure I was told this all the time, but for whatever reason I didn't really trust it. I felt like I was sending out smoke signals constantly that weren't being seen. For instance, there was a boy who lived down the hall that was about a year older than me. When he came to my door and asked if I wanted to come over and listen to his new Alice Cooper record, I was pretty sure no good would come of it considering his parents weren't home and I knew he'd try to kiss me and I really had conflicting feelings about the whole kissing thing. I wanted my mom to say No, and remember making some kind of head shaking, eye-rolling movement meant to convey to her that I didn't want to go, but she said, Sure, go ahead, just be back for dinner in an hour. Noooooo. I felt powerless somehow to express my own opinion and desire at that point in my life. And, yes, we went to his apartment and he kissed me and the only thing I remember is looking at the Billion Dollar Babies album cover and thinking it looked like a snake.
Today I obviously realize that the how and where of my body and emotions are my sole responsibility, but I wonder if I could have dropped some wisdom on that earlier me, would it have made any difference? Told her that she had a voice to say what she wanted, to do what felt right to her and not let anyone else dictate that. Every part of who I am today is rolled around in all that I've known, seen, felt, done and while I find my confidence of self still seems to be growing stronger, it does no good to think of any other way it may have been. I do set my sights on being more gentle with my mom, realizing that she was doing the absolute best she could at the time, while still living her life and being fulfilled. But really nothing was as it seemed: I may have known that Alice Cooper's real name was Vincent Damon Furnier and that the boy down the hall wasn't a particularly good kisser, but it would be a while before I'd really know and understand how much I could choose what I wanted and what I didn't in my own life.
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