So I’ve already written about what my life was like before I came to Canada. When I came here, I was unmoulded, green, soft and pliable. I knew nothing, I feared everything from the heavens to my own mind, my forced Christian faith was starting to crumble around me, my adopted mother taught me to hate my biological mother and siblings, I was unsure of my sexual identity, and I had no idea who I even was.
I was a complete blank slate.
As I began to put down roots in Ontario, the learning process took hold, pushing me out of the dirt and into the sun, slowly unfurling my leaves. I was becoming a person with opinions, my own thoughts and talents and quirks. But the more friends I made, the more I exposed my art and self to the world, the bigger a problem I gave myself.
I was uncomfortable with myself and my place in life. I should be more like her. I should take this college course that he’s taking. I should change my hobbies and what I like to fit in better with what society likes about the ultra-likable “geek girl”. I should completely change my art style, do this craft instead of that one, I should wear better clothes and wear my hair better to fit into society. I should act more like a man to fit in more with my male friends and husband. I should work harder to find a good job so I’m not seen as anti-progressive (I was actually called that, not only for being a housewife but for taking my husband’s name when we got married).
I should be this, I should be that. Being me wasn’t good enough.
Who was I, anyway? I still had no idea.
I may have not been a blank slate any more, but I was still a big sponge, able to absorb new mindsets and negative attitudes about myself just like that. About who I thought I was “supposed” to be.
When my adopted mom passed away in 2012, something in me snapped. The thing that was holding me down from fully blossoming to the sun and heavens.
Gaining the acceptance I had so craved from my biomom (which she had always had for me but was forbidden from expressing in any way) was a huge stepping stone for me in realizing who I am.
I’m me, damn it!! I am wildly, wonderfully me.
I draw and paint in a certain style. I have my own sense of humour, and opinions, and thoughts. I listen to my heart in following my spiritual path. I wear and do what makes me feel joyful. I admitted to myself that I didn’t have to act like a man all the time, or pretend to love all the sports and video games to gain my husband’s approval. I’m still working on gaining physical independence. I could fully enjoy the sight of a woman and know that I like both genders, and that’s perfectly fine. I have my own brand of geek, my own ways of doing things, and my own personality.
I focus on beauty, sexuality, the metaphysical, and art. The dance that I twirl every day is getting more colourful and glorious because I now know who I am.
I, like all women, am tapping into my goddess potential. It’s a huge, endless spring of crazy colour and maybe even some glitter. My wild woman heart that begs to be released. That’s who I am, and I am me.
And that’s more than good enough.