Labeled as Something Else

Mood: "Ode to My Family" by The Cranberries

As a 9th grade girl, in the midst of my troubles, I found joy in walking alone at sunrise. It was one of the few pleasures I was granted, then - I wasn’t allowed to do much. But during summer break, I’d wake early and walk while the household still slept. It felt like a privilege to have time alone to think while the sun’s dawn blushed my cheeks. Walking alone, licking the sweet edge of freedom.

Often with a Nirvana tape (but labeled as something else) in my headphones, I’d stroll down the long driveway to that middle-of-nowhere road and I’d think. I imagined ways to run away, and wondered if my sister would be ok if I did. I often wondered what it was like to be my friends, and I thought of the family members I missed. I wondered how my mother was as often as I wondered if she ever wanted me.

I would wonder if the boy I liked ever thought of me when he was alone. I wasn’t allowed to like a boy, and it didn’t help that I was painfully shy about crushes. I wondered if he saw me for who I was, and if he knew that I saw him. I wondered if anyone ever saw who I was, or if anyone would.

Sometimes, I’d play a fear game with myself. I’d see how far into the woods I could wander without getting too lost to return in time. I’d use music as a sensory handicap to my already terrible sense of direction. The stakes were too high for me to ever push that game too far, but there was nothing like being a little lost in the woods with The Cranberries (labeled as something else).

On the most-fun days, I’d sneak-out a secret novel - something Anne Rice, VC Andrews, or Bram Stoker (but labeled as something else) - and disappear into fiction, feeling like a sly genius for having successfully smuggled such delicious contraband without incident.

Wounded days were different. These were the days I felt most hopeless. No music, no books. I’d sob while the first of fresh sunshine filtered through. I’d ask why. The sounds of the woods coming to life always helped, but never answered why. The wind through leaves of trees in the thousands, birds chirping, squirrels and lizards scampering, dragonflies, bees, the rushing creekwater, my dog’s soft ears and loving whimper. Nature’s aura was a godlike comfort in these moments. I cannot save you, Nature seemed to say, but I can soothe you.

I miss those woods where I felt safe and seen, and was always enough. The soothing godlike aura I’ve craved ever since finds me taking treks to commune with forests, talking to animals wherever I go, and humbling myself in the presence of the Ocean. Sometimes, to seek understanding. Sometimes, to heal wounds. Sometimes, to uplift that imprisoned girl who’d been forced to live labeled as something else.

National Domestic Violence hotline: log onto thehotline.org, text LOVEiS to 22522, or call 1-800-799-7233

Suicide & Crisis Hotline: dial 988

Anonymous Mental Health Support: 855-845-7415 or go to mentalhealthSF.org/warm-line/