From in the shadow she calls
And in the shadow she finds a way, finds a way
And in the shadow she crawls
I was born my Father's Daughter, an agreement decided upon not of my arranging. As I grew from toddler's first shoes, to braces, the first period and awkward adolescence, my heart led me to become another man's, or rather a boy's, possession. Through all of high school this was the ongoing reality, even when the boy whose lasso had captured my heart was not willing or free to afford me the label of 'girlfriend', rather to return my affections, my heart, my soul always his.
I was 'everybody else's girl' but never my own.
Into college, I went, traveling down avenues of rocky love into the beds of undeserving men, love unrequited, clutching, hoping for security without. My college boyfriend was a real piece of work, a bit on the charismatic side but with a darker side afflicted by his own demons of addiction. Manipulation and, yes, anger were his tools to subdue, to maintain control, and I allowed it, hoping this would lead me to security, despite my increasing misery.
Again, I was 'everybody else's girl' but never my own.
Following him, I ended up within the confines of the church, mainstream Christianity, and what brought to me the appearance of what I had been longing, finally home, unconditional love, security without. Freeing myself from the destruction of the college boyfriend, I flung myself headfirst into the organization of conservative Christianity and all its trappings. But down that rabbit hole, I discovered once again the element of patriarchal control, domination, silencing, subdue, with unending promises of God's eternal love never quite attaining.
Again, I was 'everybody else's girl' but never my own.
A mental break-down finally burst open my life from years of striving, trying, to please...being everybody else's girl. In the early years of painful realization and suffering, feeling hopeless, yet through the struggles, I would discover that truly the only way out is through, not just my own darkness within but that which surrounded without.
Again, I was 'everybody else's girl' but never my own.
Leaving the confines of the church yet unknown, the man who was my first love and then would become my ex-husband, returned once again into my life in a fury of love-bombing passion. My father's arm led me down the aisle, depositing me at his feet as an object to exchange, bartering not the physical but the emotional worth of my soul.
Again, I was 'everybody else's girl' but never my own.
Not so wedded bliss would fall upon me a mere few months later than the entanglement of the bridal bed. The man who doted upon me with bombs of love now stood over me in rage, blaming, firing accusations as well as whatever physical object was closest, pinning me on the bed, leering over my tiny, cowering frame against the wall, rage mixing with paranoia coming from his spitting lips...somehow, deep down, this 'everybody else's girl' said, "Enough! No more!"
Screaming, on Oscar Sunday 2013, on our front stoop, snot and tears mingling down my face, "Go, you want to go, then go", he turned fearful, pleading, but truly I was done.
That moment was only the true beginning, the cutting away of the years of being another's possession, an object to play with, then exchange. As the days tumbled forth into months, then years, I would continue the journey of purging out that which sought to bind, building myself up with words of love from within and without, the difference being I learned to listen to myself first, to trust in my own worthiness of love, my own value, soaring, soaring into new depths of revelation, my truest self.
Everybody Else's Girl No More, Truly My Own. At Last.
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