Dear World it’s me- Tilly
Begin at the beginning, my name is Matilda.
To expose your life to others is a hard thing to do, especially my life. Not because I have had it harder, or easier than anyone else, not because my life is better, worse or in between, but because it is—mine. My demons, my truth, my walk. It takes courage to face the reality of who you are. My story, my memories are a blend of great hurt, great passion, great struggles and great success.
To write it, I would need to revisit places I do not want to go, abusive memories, and places of darkness, am I ready to face that? To write it I would need to be as honest as I can, as honest at least as my memory serves me, honesty is a value that I place great importance on, and it is weaved into the very fabric of who I am. To be honest means I may hurt others, as it is not just my life that will be in these pages, but the lives of others that helped shaped my days, some good, some not so. As we do not walk alone in this world now do we?
In the end, I have chosen to write this, for no other reason than by doing so, maybe—just maybe—I will be able to find those last lingering answers, and destroy the last wisps of pain.
I would love to tell you that this will end in happily-ever-after, but I can’t make those claims. As the ‘end’ has not been written yet. I will write, as if no one was reading this, that it is just me and the keyboard, and what happens…happens.
To begin at the beginning…
I am Tilly. My birth name officially is Matilda, named after my parental grandmother. Tilly for short…My family and a handful of friends call me Mickie. I was named after both my grandmothers, as the last child of nine, It was my Mom who decided to give me both grandmothers names. *rolling eyes*, yeah you guessed it, I just LOVE that…
Why Mickie? Cause my Dad took one look at me and said that my name was way to big for a girl no bigger than a…that’s right-‘mickie’, a term used for a small bottle of booze. It just stuck! To this day whenever I get together with my family or childhood friends they call me Mickie- Tilly seems to be just too hard to grasp. (I am smiling- my cute bratty smile, that I use often when I want to get away with anything). My other nick names? ‘Baby girl’ my parents called me this, but especially my Dad, and “mouse.’
I am the youngest of nine children in total, sadly before I was born, my parents lost three children. One girl and two boys.
I suppose when writing one’s life story, you should start with the early years, build up to the teens and later years, but me…being me…there will not be any rhyme or reason, nor logical sequence of events, as I think it, ‘so shall it be written’. ~smiles~
With me, there is always a twist, hence the phrase “Tilly Twist.” It sounds like a tornado doesn’t it? Or maybe a yummy candy. I twist everything! Not in a bad way, I just think differently and quickly. I question most things, and see in advance. My definition of twist is: to rotate around something that remains stationary.
Another thing you will need to know about me as you are reading this is that I am a smart ass, and curse, so if language is an issue, you might not want to read anymore. My ‘smart-assedness’ (I made that word up- giggles)- will either make you laugh out loud or groan, or piss you off.
So, off we go down memory lane…
Okay maybe not. Stalling I know but I am not ready to write any memories yet. Maybe you aren’t ready to read any, especially if you are getting to know me, really KNOW me for the first time.
Who am I? Which me? The author, poet, x-radio host, entrepreneur, photo enthusiast? The academic?
The Mom, the lover, the daughter, the sex symbol? The pagan?
The friend, aunt, niece, woman, child?
Or just me…? The lines blur, overlap and become one and none.
I have had three great fears in my life, and if I have not conquered them, I have at least tamed them. I learned long ago not to be a victim, you have to take control of your life and face your fears.
Water: I had a great fear of water for many years, I did not learn to swim until I was in my late teens, and for someone who loves water…fearing it was a source of great sorrow. My Mother loved the water, and we never had the chance to really go ‘swimming’ together, as she is no longer with me in this lifetime.
When I was about eight, my brother and I were playing, naturally-where we should not of been.Just down the road from our house there was a creek, and on this particular cold winter day I decided it would be a great idea to go for a walk along the ice. Yep~smiles~ I was wrong, not a good idea at all, my brother tried to tell me, warned me that the ice would not be solid, but who really listens to their siblings? It does not take much of a leap to figure out what happened, I fail through the ice and my brother had to pull me out. He saved me…the first of many rescues.
Stories I am sure that will unfold later on, needless to say that I had an overwhelming fear of water after that. To this day, when I swim, my face/head never goes under the water. While I have tamed the fear, learned to swim and enjoy the water, I don’t snorkel or would never consider scuba diving.
I have often wanted to go white-water rafting, but the thought of me falling out of the raft and under the water, has kept me away, I have often watched others water ski and thought it looked like great fun until the skier takes a tumble in the water.
So, have I conquered my fear? No, but I have come to a compromise that allows me to love the water, and not give fear control. I swim, but my head needs to be above the surface, so scuba-diving is out of the question, or snorkeling…at least at the moment.
Spiders: Some say that a great fear is based on a traumatic event, like my fear of water, if that is the case, my fear of spiders must of happened when I was very young (or in another lifetime maybe), as I can’t recall the ‘event’ in which brought about this fear.
At one point in my life, seeing a spider would paralyse me in fear. Slowly over the years I have faced that fear and now while I am not scared to the point of freezing, or screaming like a ninny (okay sometimes I still scream like a ninny!)- I can look at one–from afar–without coming completely unglued. Now– if one was to touch me, that may be a another story…and when they are close my heart still beats fast and my instinct is to flee…quickly!
Love: I do not fear loving, or the act of love. I fear dying without ever knowing what true love feels like. True love, of course is a relative term for each person; it is as personal as a pair of undies ~giggles~ some like thongs, and some are the cotton brief type- a personal choice. True love to me is about knowing and loving me for who I am, and me loving & knowing them for who they are. That I am perfect, and he is perfect, because of our imperfections. I’ve never really believed in love, not the kind where a person doesn’t hurt you, use you, take advantage of your goodness, not the kind where you fully and completely trust another. Sad I know, but the truth is the truth, for I have walked the walk of being hurt, great sadness and pain in the name of ‘love.’
True love for me is that you don’t need to change me in order to love me, (like my flaws are so awful that I am not worthy of love ‘as is) and demands and commands are not required. I know that I do not require another to make us happy, for happiness is my own responsibility, and by being complete alone, we are capable of sharing and loving each other without limitations and chains.
I want a partner in my life, to share with, laugh with and enjoy life with. Not someone who is there for my money, or what I can do for them, not someone who doesn’t realize that their actions have consequences, that when you are in a relationship you are no longer ‘one’ you are a unit. Someone that puts our love first, not their own selfish desires first. I want to be loved wholly and completely not for my outside skin alone- but me.
A love where you never have to worry about your secrets being judged, your past being mocked, your present being reviewed and measured, or your dreams being ridiculed.
The kind of love where you are best friends and lovers, were passion is shared and grows. Of course I know that real love is the love of self, and I truly love me (most days), what I want is to be able to share all of who I am with that special someone.
I prayed (YES silly pagans pray!) one day, that man would come my life and have the same vision of what love is. Have I found him? If love, as I have said; is about imperfections…about acceptance as is, maybe just maybe I have tamed this fear as well.
I might not have a prince charming, but then again, he does not exist does he? This mystical prince- instead I may have something better…I might have a partner.
What I love…
In no particular order.
My father, (miss you DAD!!) to write, the rain, my family (as in my partner, and my children, and 2 beautiful angels(for reasons of privacy I am not naming names), my friends, nature, magick, taking pictures, shoes, music- all kinds other than old country, although I will admit there are a couple of songs I love that are old country, not because of the song or artist, but the memories that the song triggers.
My mother,(miss you MOM!) my siblings and their children, my cousins and extended family,critters, trees, horseback riding, art, sex, skydiving, touch, rocks and water, the seasons, learning-anything and everything, discovering, passionate people, conversations and debates, hiking, health, yoga, intelligence, purple, red, colour really- the sound of laughter, did I mention sex? Smell- the smell of great food, the smell of coffee, the smell of soap and perfume and the smell of life…tattoos, words, being naked…to kiss..and so much more.
What I hate…
Hate is such a strong word, and not one that I use very often, so instead I will use dislike. There is always a fine line between love and hate, and both emotions carry a great power, one positive, one negative. I am not about to let a negative emotion have that kind of hold over me. Did I mention I was a bit of a control freak? ~giggles~ Some say so, but what do they know?- ~smiles~
Parsnips-yuck, hmmmm…truly I think that’s it…it can’t be though, so I am going to guess that as I write I will find more dislikes. Wait- I am not that fond of bugs, the ugly ones- I Know, I know, not a nice thing to say, that cute bugs are okay but ugly ones aren’t, but there you have it just the same, ~giggles~ I do not like ugly bugs. Of course ugly is- as in beauty- in the eyes of the beholder-which creates balance- yes? Which means someone else likes the ugly ones, so all is good. ~giggles~
Dividing the sections…
Maybe instead of visiting memory lane, I will divide this story of me into the sections I mentioned above, the parts of me that creates a whole.
So which me shall we start with? What do you want to know about the most? Of course it is the lover-yes? Then…I will just have to leave that for last. Now don’t groan and pout- it’s good marketing-just like when you watch those horrible television reality shows, they keep you hanging…
Let’s start with something boring…and relatively safe for me to talk about…..
To be continued