A Flower Child's Daughter

Me my Mother and  Little Brother Circa 1978-79

I am possessed by something that will not let me rest. I know I must now at least attempt to commit my life to words. In this way I think I may finally introduce myself to myself. I have not lived a page turning nail biting adventurous kind of life, but a life of soul searching, reaching for some sort of salve for the many wounds life inflicted upon me, and most importantly, I would like to share my survival story. This perhaps is not the story many people would want to read, but I hope for me at least, it will reveal the secrets of my heart and help me to heal.

This being said, I feel I must elaborate, my life has not been all wounds and melancholy, there has been plenty of joy and love and laughter. I believe my overall statement is that our lives, all unique and individual as snowflakes, are a journey. A journey to self. Self awareness, self acceptance… whatever it is we need ourselves to know.

So it is now, at some point in the middle of my life that I find it necessary to set forth on my journey to relive it for my own purpose, to explain to myself why it is ok to be just exactly who I am.

I will start lightheartedly.

I have never blogged before, but writing is in my being and I have stories to tell! I grew up in a hippie commune started in the 60's and exists in some form or another still today. My stories range anywhere from uber painful, to super hilarious and every thing in-between. I am 38 now and lived communally with my mother until I was old enough to run for the hills! (that would be 18) And run for hills I did! And ran back again, and than again back to the hills. I have now settled down to realize I have duality with my desire to respect my past and to build my future as an individual. I hope in telling my story I find peace, share experience, and enlighten readers to unique lifestyles.

What is on my mind today is my sisters, and no, not your everyday sisters, these women are not all actually related to me. We are sisters of the heart, growing up flower child. We are sisters also without choice, growing up in an environment where, god damn it, you had to work your shit out. And we had shit to work out. And this was not a bad thing, it may have been you didn't want to look at the person's face, but there it was looking back at you. And if you did not find the value of that person, you were only hurting yourself, because one day, one week, or one month later, they would still be there! I think this value of taking the time to see through your differences instead of walking away like it was so easy to do outside our community, built stronger deeper connections than would otherwise be possible. Was there failure? Of course! But over all there was success, and a deep love and respect.

Today I rely on these women, they are always in the background in case one of us falls down. They will be there to pick up the fallen sister, put her back on her feet and love her through all her failures and celebrate her successes.