"Don't tell me how educated you are, tell me how much you have traveled."
-Mohammed
Back to the jigsaw puzzle that is my life. It began...
We
are supposed to 'begin at the beginning,' right?
Well, these self-divisions began with a habit I picked up early in life of periodically reinventing myself and 'starting over.' It doesn't take a psychiatrist to track that one-- I grew up an Air Force military kid. We moved every 3 years, or so, and in each new place I had to start all over, introduce myself to new friends, new school, new community, and find myself a place in the established local pecking order. Moreover, because we didn't live in AF base housing-- nor did I attend base schools-- I wasn't even surrounded by other kids having to regularly do the same. I soon discovered, however, that with each move I also had the chance to be someone completely new! My most embarrassing moment at school? Never happened! That stupid boy, Ronnie, who always pulled my ponytails and called me 'Eureka'? Gone! Black widow spiders? Not at the new house! (Sweet!) This-- and a loving family-- was what allowed me to not only survive frequent military moving, but to actually learn to enjoy it.
Imagine! Every few years, a new bedroom decor, new style of dress (although the clothes popular where I was coming from were often a bit different from those of my new locale, anyway), an attitude adjustment-- change the hairstyle a bit-- and there was a new 'me'. I must say, I marvel at those of you whose childhood bedrooms were the same from infancy to adulthood! With one move, I even changed what I was called from my middle name to my first, Ericka. You might say that was the first major fragmentation in my personal jigsaw. Most of my family still calls me by my middle name, but to the rest of the world I've become 'Ericka'. A very few of you know me as yet another 'S' name, but we'll keep that one just between us, shall we? And, of course, infant/toddler me was known by two other nicknames that I don't trust
some of you not to adopt for teasing purposes, so I won't state them here, either.
Just so we're clear, though, I'm not talking about multiple personalities here. I told no lies about who I was. Nor did I lack self-confidence, self-esteem, or self-awareness. I was simply young enough to be 'unformed,' and these many style changes were conscious choices I think many tweens & teenagers would enact given the opportunity to explore different aspects of themselves. Some do it even without a change of circumstance, but then it's usually called 'rebelling' or 'finding themselves'. I lost none of the core 'me' in these transitions of outward presentation... and I learned a great deal about people.
Did any of you know I was once a cheerleader? Or, that at one school me and mine were the popular 'it' crowd, while at another I was the smart, quiet girl who always had her nose in a book, but could (and often did) sing louder and stronger than most anyone else?
(Mom, don't read this part...you don't wanna know).
Here's one that might surprise you, too! From 5th grade to early junior high, I was a tomboy known by some of the neighborhood guys I hung out with as 'Ricky'. Dirt bike jumping, tree climbing, fearlessly walking on frozen-over creeks & ponds, and whittling bows & arrows were my claims to fame, then. Twice, I rescued my fellows from life-threatening danger. Once I rescued my friend, Rob, from freezing, fast-moving water while we were exploring way too far from home and he fell through the ice, then once by grabbing another friend, Brian, on his way to the ground falling past me out of our favorite tree. (Aside from getting scratched up, I'm pretty sure I badly sprained or mildly fractured my finger that day, but I never let on to the parents... too many troublesome questions would have arisen). To be honest, I think I was a bit of a fascinating enigma to my buds. I was a fearless 10-year old tomboy who used big words, threw knives with accuracy, could keep up with all of them in spite of my short stature, and already had about 1/2 of my life's allotment of boobs. (So early!) I was also, usually, the only black person they knew personally.
(Yeah, I think I might have been their private, juvenille version of the Goddess Athena...if they'd had any idea who the Greek gods were, of course. On occasion, a few of them even brought me gifts they'd made themselves-- for no particular reason. Gosh. I think that means I may have peaked around age 11, without even realizing it! Well, crap.)
By the time we moved on to the next state, I'd learned that when I did want to 'explore my feminine side' by having slumber parties & tolerating other girls, I got BIG cred with the girls due to my friendships with the guys. Sometimes, one or another of my guy friends-- attractive older teens who knew how to sneak out at night & were much admired by my female peers-- would sneak in the windows during a slumber party to ogle us and amuse themselves by observing me being atypically 'girly'. The girls would flirt outrageously, which I found incredibly entertaining! Then, he'd leave and go to a party, or something. Looking back, it was so very inappropriate, but fun! (And, I assure you, nothing shocking or sexually mature ever happened).
Bizarrely, although the new, slightly-older crowd of guys accepted me as one of their own, they would never cuss or smoke any type of cigarette around me-- though I knew that they did it-- and when I asked to try anything I was told "No, it isn't for you." "You're not that kinda girl." or simply a shocked "No way!" (
A phenomenon, by the way, that continued into my early 20's. I must have just oozed 'innocence'). Also, a few of them seemed to feel they were my personal protectors, fending off any guys who showed interest in me whether I wanted them to or not. (And they say chivalry is dead! No, I just think dating unsuccessfully for more than seven years inevitably kills it). I had to hide my first boyfriend NOT from my parents, but from my guy friends! Nevertheless, the guys happily taught me to ride their motorcycles even though I terrified them by crashing into a tree the first time they let me ride solo. Boys are weird, but I love 'em.
Anyway, once I left home, the renewal process took a bit more effort. True to my childhood training, I would get tired of being in the same residence very quickly, so I would rearrange the furniture. A lot. Once all possible combos had been lived with a while, it was time to move again. Usually, my moves were local-- I'd just head to another area of town where the sights, sounds and vibe were different. Hang the longer commute to work or school! Some moves, however, took me to other cities & states, although I didn't stay long in any of those places. The moves farther afield were always prompted by a more significant impetus than mere boredom with the status quo... like school, a relationship, or a female friend who needed a co-pilot to seek her own relocation adventure. It's a real benefit to be so open to the wide world as a potential place to live, but with divorced parents living with new significant others hither and yon, I
can sometimes feel homeless. No home base, you know? I like it here in the good ol' PNW, though. My entire immediate family is finally in one state, and after all these years, I've also developed some non-family relationships that begin to feel like
roots.
To date, I've had at least 32 addresses. No lie. Quite a feat without ever being on the run, don'tcha think? (Actually, I need to sit down and update that count-- make it exact. It might be a bit higher). I've lived coast-to-coast, Delaware to Washington State, and so many states between them! However, I've noticed that change via relocation comes less easily the older I get. The desire for stability begins to take hold. Regardless, even while staying put, a few major events have still managed to change the flow of my life...change me. (I can't say I haven't lived a little). After each of these events, I have had to start over...
again. As a result, 'older' friends know the 'before' me, while newer friends know only the person I've become since. A very precious few know both. If you're one of them, incidentally, thanks so much for sticking with me through it all.
So, that's how it happened. The jigsaw. New places, new people, new pieces of me... that's how my life became so fragmented with each identity being associated with it's own set of people. It happens to most everyone to some extent, but it happens much more often to frequent travelers. And, since I started earlier than most (happily embracing the newness of change each time), I've developed more divisions than the norm. Predictably, the friends made in each division seem to view me as quite a different girl from the others. It's been interesting, actually. This way of living has taught me that most people are surprisingly content with the surface (which I almost never am). They see and believe only what is presented
right now. Thus, my most valued friends-- the ones I really learn about life from-- are those who choose to swim & explore the greater depths of human experience. They ask the real questions, and observe all carefully. And, while I don't particularly like knowing that so many of my friends don't really know me, I'm uncomfortable with the idea of sharing the complete puzzle with those who are clearly more than satisfied with so much less. At least, they seem to like the parts of me they do see.
Stick a fork in me! I'm done for now. I suppose, if you've read to the end here, you must have wanted to understand me a bit more. Thank you for that. Hope it was worth the read.
