Blue’s Story

BLUE’S STORY

Lately I have been exploring my lives in which I, for whatever reason, were determined to be unsafe for the environment; unsafe with my extraordinary sight. I do this so that I may see my Shadows and advance my Self-Mastery. While I was swimming, a character came to mind. 

I realized SHE wasn’t a made up character or Rather, she was who I had existed as in a point of time.

Her story begins here:

By the time I was 17, I was admitted into an Asylum. Mind you, it wasn’t of my own choice— well I guess it was, but that’s for another story.

I was admitted more reactively and eagerly by my Father, who at one point in my life would repeat to me that I could also call him “Daddy” with a wink in his eye. 

My Mother? Busy keeping herself at “lady folk work” & being induced medically for her “nervous behavior”…. prescribed drugs were quite literally popping in the 1920’s “to keep women’s hysteria at bay”.  Mother’s ‘Mom Group’ boasted about the pill that made it easier, but for Mother, from my perspective, it numbed her just enough to keep up with everyone else’s needs except her own. 

Honestly, I had imagine that Mother would either end up committed or admitted before I. 

My younger sister, “God” Bless Her… she succumbed to the whims and wits of our parents more “simpler” than I.  I advise ‘simple’ in a theoretical sense …. as her submission always, always came at a price. 

I also have, had(?) an older brother.  He’s not talked about. Father flys-off-the-handle at the mere mention of Him kept everyone silenced. All I know from other’s accounts is that Mothers nervousness drastically made a change for the worse, almost paranoia, after Brother wasn’t seen anymore. 

Did he move because he was done?  Did Father prohibit him from coming around? Neither would surprise me. It would easily fit in with the other long lines of topics that Father refused to discuss, no less hear others mention.  

Some had the speculation that Brother was “funny”, as the mentally-stunted elders around us had crudely put it.

If Brother were gay…. it would add attributes to why my bi-curiosity had been a hot topic since I was discovered ‘inappropriately playing’

 with another girl, willfully I may add, when we were around 10. I will never forget the burning sting of embarrassment on my face when her mother called mine, insisting they pick me up now because -obviously- I initiated it…. I didn’t. 

Regardless.

I could likely attribute a World’s Cycle worth of ‘reasons’ for why I now found myself admitted… commited… into the mental hooscow.

And yet…. 

None of those reasons were the official reasons. 

“DANGEROUS.”

1.) That’s what my file read. 

2.) What the courts declared.

3.) What the church suggested.  

Father insisted on Insanity.

Mother guessed Possessed. 

Perhaps they were all correct in their own ways.

Despite this warning, still, many adored me. 

So much so, that even one of the nightly clinicals there at the Asylum took a particular precarious special kind of attraction to me that we will talk about later. ‘Sick’ he liked to call me —  all while caressing my leg knowing I couldn’t do shit about it… it was a game we played.  Like all things, that had consequences too.

All in all, I’m Dead now 

I’ve sought for my story to be told.

Call me Blue.