Wednesday was my weekend. Let me rewrite that. Wednesday was my weekend. Okay, from 6-11pm was my weekend. The rest was the usual menial tasks that are supposed to add up to something great. Fortunately 6-11pm Wednesday added up to Something Great all on its own.
Hanging out with my friend. I brought expensive gin, she provided snacks and a campfire and as the light faded into night I lost the exterior me, no longer worried about how I look, how I come across. All that was left in the flickering fire was what was inside me. I can’t speak for her, but I think we had a pretty good time. Sometimes, when she’d run inside to get more pickles or check on her pretty self-sufficient kid, or husband who was happily cooking a Japanese dinner I’d be left in the darkness, alone – but with someone I haven’t seen in a really long time. It was ME. I found ME.
ME is a little sad, slightly self destructive, funny, sometimes spontaneous, creative, and mostly happy with the little things like sitting in the cold in front of a fire making crude jokes, laughing at experiences that were once painful and hearing other people’s history.
This visit with ME, got me thinking about who I was, the things I thought I knew, the things I’ve done. It really boils down to identifying with a Chameleon. This is probably something most people deal with in their youth “Oh she’s just trying to find herself”
But Aspergirls have it really, really tough.
4 years of high school. 4 completely different identities.
Freshman year: I stuffed my bra, wore my hair like the cool kids, wore short skirts and got some boyfriends that were on the foot ball team. I’d wear their jerseys on game day and went to cheer them on.
Sophomore year: I quit wearing a bra. This boyfriend was eventually going to “come out” and is now happily married to some guy. He would bust out moves from Dirty Dancing (but always the girl’s parts….) In the shallow labels of high school I was now “a hippie”. Long skirts, tank tops with no bra, long hair down, sometimes in two braids, sometimes I wore tie-die shirts.
Junior year: GOTH. My boyfriend was a messed up suicidal freak with chains connecting his wallet to his pants, big skull rings on his fingers. He listened to death metal. His quote in the year book was “I don’t mind dying, I just don’t want to be dead”. Soooo coooool, right? I wore heavy black eye makeup, mastered my “bitch leave me alone” glare and bought some army issued jump boots which I’d wear with fishnet stockings. I tried to like death metal but I just couldn’t.
Somewhere in between Junior and Senior year I completely flipped. I met a guy at a church camp I was required to go to and thought God would save me. I wore white turtle necks, a regular bra, a cross around my neck all the time.
Senior Year: I ended up back with Goth boy. Back to Black. That year we got a computer in our house with dial-up internet. I wasn’t savvy to the browser history and neither was my dad so I don’t know if he ever discovered my searches on bi-sexual curiosity but I discovered that he liked black woman with big tits. I decided to cut my hair. This is a big deal because my entire life up until that point, I had hair down past my waist. Dark, dark brown hair, easy to dye black. I was done with ballet at that point, having done the company experience and deciding it wasn’t for me so there was nothing holding me back. My mom cried as she cut it and gave me a cheek length bob. It was amazing. Shortly after that I discovered that my goth boy had been cheating on me for months with some other girl so I decided to pursue my interests on the internet. I found a nice girl not too far away and we started hanging out on weekends. I became a feminist.
The rainbow of identities continues, but you get the picture.
As I talked to my husband last night about this Chameleon Concept I realized that he didn’t really get it the way I did. He did however, ask if I felt like a chameleon in this marriage.
Yes. I do.
In some ways motherhood makes us change or set aside certain aspects of ourselves, marriage, jobs, all of that do make us shelve certain things and we are all different around different people. TO A CERTAIN DEGREE. But the person you marry – shouldn’t they know and love that person that is there when no one is judging? Shouldn’t they LOVE that person?
I’m sorry, husband, maybe I’ve been too much of a chameleon and you don’t know who I am. Maybe you have too. We don’t really know each other anymore, not enough to know if we like that person that’s inside when all judgements go away. I suppose that happens in relationship – you hear about people falling out of love, back into love…I’m not sure what will happen here.
I can’t be ME all the time – it does have to be ME being a MOM, ME at work, but ME being a WIFE shouldn’t be all that different from the ME that was sitting around that campfire, and it’s not going to be that way anymore. At least that’s what I’m shooting for now.