23 Jul 2009
Who am I? What Shall I be?
In 1963 I had a Careers Officer at Secondary school that was as uninviting as the nit nurse. At least the nit nurse was out of sight as she rummaged through teenage heads looking for insect invaders, but the Careers Officer sat behind a desk, hands clasped staring straight at you. He reminded me of Griff. Mr Griffiths was a tweed wearing teacher at Primary School – I can’t remember what he taught, but I do remember his nicotine smell, brown fingers, chalky skin and hanging spittle from his top lip as he came close by.
I also recall my first experience of codependency in Griffs class. Caring, fixing TOO MUCH. Mary Quinn was freckled like me and had unruly hair that the nit nurse left till last. We knew why. She was a gippo, as we called travellers then. I envied her unconventional look but knew that Mary was an outsider and was probably the daughter of the gypsy woman who knocked on doors selling wax flowers that my mother always gave money too in case she left a curse. Then it happened, tears, silence and disturbance as a turd slid down Mary Quinns leg. I felt her pain. I wanted the ground to swallow her up.
I wanted someone to stop her tears.The turd slid around the leg like a mat on a helter skelter in slow motion. I felt her pain. I couldn’t let it go. The shame haunted me.
In adult life I discovered that having empathy with pain is healthy and that feeling guilty for the pain is not. Mary Quinn was singled out after this as " shit legs ", all very Lord Of the Flies, I’m afraid to say. In Secondary School I was labeled " an Omo " as well as blood nut, carrot top and red but managed to avoid serious bullying by being the class clown, but I carried with me the ghost of Mary Quinn.
When the Careers Officer asked what I wanted to do when I left school I replied " to be a commercial artist ". HHmmm he said, checking a list with his pencil – we don’t have a number for that. In 1963 the Advertising Industry was akin to pornography in social standing. Bad luck that that very same year Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice-Davies were described as " Models " in the Profumo Scandal. In th 50′s & 60′s " Models " meant prostitutes and models were used in Advertising. As now wandering through the nooks of Soho’s brothel streets you will see MODEL : 3rd Floor.
He sternly stared with the suggestion that I might want to be a " technical draughtsman " as he had no number on his list for " ADVERTISING ". God no, that sounded dull compared to the idols in fashion and music I had singled out in the ATV year book. The Stones, The Beatles – Millie Small, Mary Quant : I could list them all with relish. But he wouldn’t budge and I left with an official chit that sent me to an interview somewhere in London to be a draughtsman. His ruse failed as I then decided to write to all the Artists Studios with my school paintings ( top of the class evey year, gold *** etc ). I was snapped up by a Studio in Chenies Street near HEALS as a Junior Artist dealing with Sanderson fabrics, Rolex Watches and Lund Humphries – a publishing house connected to The Beatles music rights and pop annuals. I had arrived. Twenty five years later I left the business having been a Heavyweight Artist, a Studio Manager, a Graphic Designer and an Art Directing concept man in Saudi Arabia. But that’s another story. Changing career in 1989 I have been labeled a Rebirther, Breathworker, Counselor, Therapist, Coach, Aids Specialist, Psychotherapist, Addiction Advisor and Life Coach.
In reality I prefer LIFESTYLIST because this defines exactly what I do and you can’t challenge addiction without changes in lifestyle, so instead of styling a fashion look – I style healthier lives. I have never wanted to be someone who fixes people, my 3 hour sessions encourage the client to fix themselves.
Even now I don’t know who I am or what I do, but what I do know is that I don’t fit into any box to be ticked on a sheet. That’s my style. Nor do I have any desire to fit in.
I create my own seminars, my clientele, my own marketing and my own label but the results are up to the masters. HP is my business manager.
I often think of Mary Quinn. Did she ever overcome adversity? Did she escape family dysfunction? Did she ever drop shame? Did she ever find her lollipop?
Today I learned that feeling empathy for someone and taking on/feeling someone else’s pain and shame are not the same thing.
This is something I do a lo of- I used to befriend the Mary;s of this world at school, and felt their intense sadness (maybe they weren’t sad- but I was).
Thank you.
lonestar
July 25th, 2009 at 7:32 ampermalink
Sometimes the smallest realization creates a mountainous shift in pattern breaking. Thanks Lonestar for this feedback.
theswarmite
July 25th, 2009 at 3:18 pmpermalink
In the first years of school, I would fight bullies who picked on the weak, the poor, the different. It wasn’t until years later I realized I was fighting because I felt so very different. I’m still not sure where all that early agression came from. Still do feel quite different from most, but I’m ok with that now. And haven’t been in a fight for decades! Not ladylike, you know?!
Another great bit of writing Madge.
Lafang
July 28th, 2009 at 1:16 ampermalink
We so love difference – AND mavericks like LaFang!
theswarmite
July 28th, 2009 at 9:37 ampermalink