A deep blue curtain falls on the first act of my life, taking all performers and stage-hands with it. Had I not waited for fate to intervene I may have saved a soul or two..
Alone on this makeshift life-craft, I muse; the world burns behind me, I daren’t look lest it stare right back. Not one other soul did I save, despite the sacrifice. I had to be smoked-out in the end.
Not one other saved! A cruel joke or perhaps just the inevitable; we are ultimately formulaic in our own time it seems.
As I write, tear tracks stain my winter-bleached face, rather more caramel than milk-chocolate these days. I lament the loss of Summer with it’s shades of heat and endless nights that spill-on. I yearn for Spring with it’s green and yellow optimism, it’s buzz, it’s alluring fragrance that draws you from your tracks.
Autumn has morphed in to winter, and I am alone – not physically – there is “family”, just emotionally, intellectually. A lonely mind and soul; I wonder, what went wrong with me?
“If you have to do that filth, Peter, can you please do it in the bathroom and dispose of the evidence so your Mother doesn’t have to clean-up after you? It really is disgusting!”
Does One “do” masturbation?
It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. My Mother had found an old t-shirt with a purple koala on it, hidden quite well behind my drawers, that was exclusively used to clean-up after self-love. In those days I might love myself (then despise myself) up to six times a day. I was quite the passenger of the sex-drive.
“I don’t know what we did wrong with you kids, you insist on being shameful, can’t you just control yourselves like the rest of us?”
I tried, honest I did, but it was no use. All I could think about was the unthinkable, the untouchable, the unsuckable. I wanted it so bad it literally hurt, yet what I craved so desperately I was told was evil, immoral, an abomination even. It was a very hard situation to navigate as a horny, teen-aged, born-again-Christian, especially as my Dad was employed by the Church. His views on homosexuality like every other issue were black and white.
Thinking about it, Dad might be gay. It’s possible right? All that homo-hate? The way he reacted when I used to steal all the spinsters’ handbags then walk around like a tart, right in the middle of the church. It was hilarious. My Dad would go an obscene shade of shit.
“I’m the laaaaady!”
I’d scream, as camply as I could, in a high-pitched-Brummie accent. My Dad would subtly try to chase me as I jumped over the pews in Elaine’s specially adapted high-heels; he’d have to make it past the hoards of lost souls and faithful awaiting healing, exorcism or prayer in tongues, you know – the usual.
“Why are you embarrassing me in front of everyone? Why must you always embarrass yourself?”
I can’t honestly remember why I did it, I think it was just fun and clearly got the attention of a man who was permanently otherwise occupied. It’s the same today to be honest, not with the handbags so much, I’m a bit too bloke, but definitely with attention. He’d pull me aside eventually and growl with such visceral intensity that I will never forget it; he despised me in that moment, or what I represented at least. He did not approve.
I don’t think our Parents ever truly stop affecting us, emotionally. I know their influence dwindles with time and maturity, but try as I might, there is little that eases my pain like a true smile from my Mother; little that raises my esteem like interest, actual non-Christ based attention from my Father. I’d give anything to really know him, to feel loved by him, to be understood and to share.
There is hope still, there’s always hope. Guard that shit with your life.
The world has a personality disorder, it’s from parents not loving their children because they themselves were not loved correctly. It’s from people insisting their offspring be facsimile fuck-ups. It’s from a lack of education, fear and desperation. Don’t expect anything from your child except to love them unconditionally, always and forever.
Stop having children, and love the one inside yourself who was abandoned. Give yourself everything you were denied. You get that education, that dream job, that future. Have children, but love yourself as a priority, as a mater of course, because as the almighty RuPaul says:
“If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?”
Can I get an Amen up in here?