The prisoner of the X castle. Without the right to be yourself
The foundation of a life scenario is laid in childhood. A person does not choose where and when to be born, does not choose parents and relatives, their influence on his life. And in the course of life, a person is sculpted from innate properties, like from pliable clay. First, his parents sculpt it, then school, friends, books. Growing up, he creates himself. But only partly. Because he does not understand his structure, his psyche, properties set by nature. YET does not understand. And only when he realizes what barriers hide real life from him, do not allow him to feel, love, BE, these gratings crumble before our eyes …
- Helen, go play with the kids! Why are you grabbing me!
A glance from under furrowed eyebrows, a plump little hand digs even more firmly into my mother's skirt.
- Mom, hello! Take me out of here!
- But Lena! You have only been in the pioneer camp for three days! Such weather, fresh air, children … Rest!
- For-take-ri!
- Len, how long can you stay at home! You've already learned everything! Go to the movies with the girls! You sit like an owl over your books.
Congenital verdict?
Lena has always been like this. And in kindergarten, and at school, and at the institute - the same picture. Always alone, always on the sidelines. Noisy games, funny companies - this is not about her. Quiet, modest, shy.
The girl grew up in an ordinary Soviet family. Five people on thirty square meters - mom, dad, Lena plus dad's parents.
Different people, different customs, way of life, graters, arguments, screams. Not the most ideal environment for the development of a child with a sound vector. He needs silence, his own secluded corner for solitude. Instead: “Don't go there! Don't stay there! Don't take it! Be silent when your elders speak!"
And the girl also has an anal vector - absolute loyalty, perfect obedience, the maximum authority of her elders. What they taught, then they got it - it does not climb, it is not worth it, does not take it and is always silent.
But it does not bother anyone, does not create much trouble. Studying for grades. Once in the second grade I brought a four in a quarter - I heard: "And the neighbor Valya is a round excellent student." I took it as a reproach. Since then, she gnawed the granite of science tirelessly so as not to dishonor her parents and not dishonor herself. To be the best, to do everything perfectly turned into a goal, overshadowing the interest in the study itself. The main thing was to "correspond".
As for motor activity, her anal vector completely crushed the skin one, but took him as an assistant in organizing the educational process. Lena sat for hours at the lessons, but at the same time followed a clear plan - what to do and when, in what sequence, how to rationally allocate time and energy in order to learn everything and pass it on time.
Lena spent the rest of the day with a book, snuggled into a corner of the sofa.
Reading was salvation for the visual vector and food for the sound vector.
There was life in the books! Bright, exuberant, full of passion. Love, friendship, adventure - everything that was so lacking in real life for an emotional visual girl.
Literature created an illusion in which one wanted to believe, in which one wanted to escape again and again from the hateful dullness of everyday life. She gave birth to feelings, which could not find a way out. These feelings teased, alarmed, tore the soul with unrealizable dreams.
Natural impressionability and the inability to live raging passions inside nurtured insatiable innate fears. Lena was afraid of everything. Live and die. Communication and loneliness. To love and be rejected. And also darkness with monsters breathing under the bed.
Encased in her own shell
Closed in herself and on herself by her own sound vector, Lena felt like a stranger everywhere. And in fact it was. Fenced off from the whole world, living in her thoughts and fantasies, afraid of any contact with people, she tried to stay away, not to draw attention to her person. But the effect was just the opposite. Lena was the same black sheep that stood out against the general background with its unusual plumage.
People don't like what they don't understand. But Lena was not understood. And they didn’t.
Children - a small wild tribe, amicably lashing out at anyone who does not fit into their noisy flock. Lena was teased and called names, pounded at breaks, watched after school, threw up threatening notes, declared a boycott.
Sad experience confirmed fears, fueled fears, forced to withdraw more and more into oneself. Vicious circle.
Concreted in the dungeon of her loneliness, Lena knew for sure: making mistakes is impossible, being yourself is dangerous, showing your feelings is taboo.
A volcano of innate contradictions bubbled inside; outside there was life at gunpoint.
Lena felt abandoned, misunderstood, simply superfluous. Her inner world - the only thing that she valued - was of no use to anyone. No one even guessed what passions raged under the cold facade of a suffering child's soul.
There was no one to lend a helping hand. Lena did not even dream of friends to whom she could open up. Parents did not climb into the soul: a calm child, studies well, does not hang out in bad companies - there is no reason for concern. And there was no time.
Father is up late at work and 24 hours a day in his own sound clouds. In the life of the family, except for the issuance of regular earnings, he no longer participated in any way. Mom, not feeling a man's shoulder, fought between work and home, settled everyday issues from repairs to vacation tickets, took offense and mourned her uncompleted female happiness.
Lena was sucked in by the black hole of despair.
Secret passage
In the seventh grade, Lena caught the eye of an ad for a school drama school. A week later, a girl with a beating heart stood in front of the door of the assembly hall, waiting for the first lesson.
That was incredible! The heroes of their favorite works acquired voices and faces, came to life on stage, creating the illusion of reality.
Lena knew all the texts by heart. But it did not occur to the head of the circle to offer the role to the girl, who looked more like a silent shadow. Lena helped to sew costumes and make decorations. Sometimes she was invited as an extra in extras. And then sweet excitement boiled in the blood. But it wasn't fear. On the contrary, inexplicable joy excited the brain, overshadowing the usual melancholy. The short moments on stage were like a fabulous dream, when you didn't want to wake up.
By the end of the school year, they were preparing Romeo and Juliet. Lena's task was to help the actors in the dressing room.
But during the dress rehearsal, "Juliet" had an attack of appendicitis. The young actress was taken to the hospital straight from school. The performance was on the verge of collapse.
The director was sitting on the edge of the stage, his head clasped in his hands, and breathing heavily.
“I know the text,” Lena said quietly and lowered her eyes.
- You? - the leader laughed bitterly, then thought and exhaled doom:
- Okay. Let it be. There are no other options anyway. Tomorrow is Sunday, gathering at ten. Don't be late.
Lena did not sleep all night. The heart pounded in every cell. The text spun in my head.
The girl came to school first and prepared costumes for all participants. Later she helped the rest of the actors get dressed and put on their makeup. Left in the empty dressing room, Lena changed clothes herself and, without breathing, looked in the mirror. The huge eyes of fourteen-year-old Juliet looked unblinking.
Smiling at her reflection, Lena suddenly felt an amazing calm, a warm wave spreading over her body. It was a new and very pleasant feeling.
The third bell rang. The young performers whispered excitedly as they waited for the curtain to open. The leader of the group looked around them, stopped at Lena, wanted to say something, but changed his mind, sighed heavily and waved his hand.
An hour and a half later, the audience burst into applause. The women cried, and even the male part of the spectators sniffed treacherously.
When Juliet came out to bow, the audience stood up, continuing to applaud.
Everyone believed this girl. She did not play, she lived! Truly loved, hoped, suffered and died. Time did not exist, just as the conventions of the performance did not exist. For Lena, it was life. The emotions accumulated over the years burst out like a storm of fireworks.
Nobody expected, nobody recognized, nobody believed.
Since then, all the main roles in school performances have belonged to Lena. This caused another wave of hostility and persecution from the sidelines of colleagues in the shop. But Lena was not embarrassed. On stage, she found an outlet for the feelings that were tearing her apart. It was an excellent implementation for skin and visual vectors, a channel of communication with the world, from which I wanted to escape in real life.
And most importantly, there was no fear. You could be yourself, be anything - evil, kind, harsh and submissive, funny and awkward. One could laugh and cry without fear of misunderstanding and condemnation. Indeed, for others it was only a role, a mask, an image that could cover a bleeding soul.
But as soon as the curtain closed and the lights went out in the hall, Lena again returned to the cold dungeon of her loneliness.
Life imprisonment?
Lena finished school with a gold medal. Entering the theater was not even discussed. "Lena, this is not a profession!" - said the parents and never returned to this topic.
The girl, as always, did not argue. She has long resigned herself. She got used to the fact that her words, feelings, thoughts, her whole life were worthless.
Lena went to study to be a pharmacist. Like Mom.
What difference does it make WHAT to be if you cannot BE!
…
Lena grew up a long time ago, studied at three universities, was married twice, she has an adult son, and she is looking forward to her grandchildren.
But my whole life was spent in some kind of prison, with the feeling that reality remained behind a lattice window. She never really learned how to express her emotions. I did not find any sense in anything.
The foundation of a life scenario is laid in childhood. A person does not choose where and when to be born, does not choose parents and relatives, their influence on his life. And in the course of life, a person is sculpted from innate properties, like from pliable clay. First, his parents sculpt it, then school, friends, books.
Growing up, he creates himself. But only partly. Because he does not understand his structure, his psyche, properties set by nature. YET does not understand.
And only when he realizes what barriers hide real life from him, do not allow him to feel, love, BE, these lattices crumble before our eyes.
Do you agree?
