Pearls

My first strand of pearls were from my maternal grandmother when I was around six years old. I often wore them. I also often wore perfume, curled my hair and wore fingernail polish.

Once and a while an adult or child would comment about how “adult-like” or if they were being kind “sophisticated” my style was. But it seems regardless of what I wore I was born to be an unintentionally polarizing person and it showed even in childhood.

As I’ve said many times, I was viciously bullied by my peers until around age 10. It was cruel. And, too often, adults weren’t protective or even all that sympathetic. Instead, they often found my pretty little face and precocious (often right-brained) intelligence off-putting or too threatening to their view of themselves or their world. Or there’s just something about my soul they found…unsettling. Maybe they just read too much into things. …But, no, even as a child I was someone people wanted to shut-up, abuse, control, overpower and/or silence lest they have to deal with some unpleasant truth about something.

Being a sweet, sensitive person who also loves themselves in a healthy way, I would occasionally stand up for myself but it was never clear to me what game most people were trying to play or why they were playing it. And I still often don’t know the best way or time to fight with people who decide to attack me unprovoked. Also, unfortunately, being a peaceful person, I almost never ever pick fights despite what others have occasionally perceived over the years?? It’s all still, too often, overwhelmingly painful and confusing to figure out.

On a side-note, this is all contributed to why I adored Caroline Calloway when I first heard of her as I readily identified with the huge amount of animosity, annoyance and hate she seems to garner with the blink of an eye. Except, I’ve come to realize that she’s not exactly innocent in the equation (dear lady) whereas, sadly, I often…am. I don’t consider myself a victim almost ever though and never have, and if I ever am a victim I often see it more as a victim of circumstance than any one particular person or group. Maybe I should change my mind on that last part though… Some friends have suggested it. They tell me that they think most of my life it’s been issues of class anxiety that have been at the core of the majority of the “hatred” I’ve experienced. At least, in one convoluted way or another it all stems back to that issue, they believe. Maybe, if reincarnation is true, some even go on to further suggest, it’s an unresolved issue (obviously begging to be addressed) from my last life.

“Don’t cast your pearls before swine”. I don’t think of anyone as swine but goodness, sometimes people’s blindness to their darker motivations and feelings can create that sort of ugly and unsustainable emotional atmosphere, at least. And, perhaps some are aware but are too absent from life or exhausted in one way or another to be fully logical or empathetic about things.

Pearls.

I have a love/hate relationship with pearls. I think they symbolize a part of me that’s been beaten, ignored and/or misunderstood. And when something beautiful like pearls evokes personal feelings like that – ones that are achy, soiled and frightening – I always know it’s a cue to lean in fearlessly and yet carefully and take a risk.

I’ve tried to wear pearls more consistently so many times in the past but I’ve chickened out. I know people will mock me if I wear them regularly because…there’s something about me wearing pearls that means something to the universe (yes, I’m a Christian and I believe there’s a spiritual consciousness we all participate in knowingly or not). And perhaps it’s something people aren’t ready to deal with yet… But maybe…they don’t have a choice anymore.

…And on a political side-note, the landscape has wildly changed since my last comments about Trump. It’ll be interesting to see where the pieces fall. And I’ll be reasonably far away from it in safety, thank God. How about you? Do you feel removed? This is one time being in a currently literally frigid area, heavily influenced by Scandinavian culture of the past (if not the present) and equally influenced by the pioneer mindset, positioned right next to Canada…feels very nice.

And actually, it reminds me once of something a guy friend said to me in college during my first semester.

“I’d love to be President someday.” I said dreamily over lunch.

“If you weren’t so cute I’d honestly think you were a total asshole right now.” he replied.

“Why?” I asked confused and hurt.

“Well, I mean, think if a guy said that. Wouldn’t you think he was an asshole? I mean it comes across as so conceited, even though I know you didn’t mean it that way. With you it’s just cute.” He smiled. “And, I mean, unless you have millionaires in your family it’s unlikely to even work. How would you even finance it?” he concluded with great certainty and conviction.

“Well…ok. Yeah, I get what you mean.” I said embarrassed and still somewhat confused. And I kind of did, although now knowing what I do about many things I didn’t know then, it all makes me cringe and seethe with anger at his ignorance and also his misogyny to think of it.

“No. My family aren’t millionaires.” I also stupidly replied. He looked like a telling mixture of relieved, pleased, confused and oddly disappointed all at once by that last response. At the time that seemed like the right response to that sort of question though for lots of reasons, and of course, now I know that that just wasn’t the correct thing to say in that situation. *laughing and rolling my eyes*

But…again…I look at that conversation and the opportunities I had afterward and before to actually “make something of myself” politically that I didn’t take full advantage of because in part I felt too disillusioned from years of hearing the same crud over and over and…I feel lucky. At least in that regard being pushed away from the fire and into a blizzard has been oddly protective. But God is benevolent and clever after all, I suppose.

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