And seriously, I'm glad we all made it, in spite of the various ways we might not have.
I wondered for a moment about my own history of pink curtain friends - I just had dinner in Seattle with two people who would have been short listed for that honor had it come up in a more classical sense - and for a bit I couldn't think of such a dark night of the soul. But then, there were the people who walked me through the process of how to create a new identity that will stand up to some scrutiny* and help find me safe places to disappear to if it came to that. And D & C,** who let me stay with them after my father came and threatened me at my job and I couldn't go home, even though one was a lawyer and they knew exactly the risk they ran by taking me in. And the whole social fabric that meant I could move out on my own at 15 and... I made bread, and played harp, and had a garden, and made dresses and worked at a music store and it was all pretty nice, really. And the friends who did my hair, and leant me jewelry and other talismans the day I took my father to court. (Armor. It just looked like a skirt and blouse.)
(Which, among other things, meant that I was there for my sister to call when she needed to climb out of her bedroom window and midnight and live somewhere else in an awful hurry.)
* This didn't, in the end become necessary, and I suspect the process has changed a lot since the late eighties. ** Whose eldest son I've been fielding coding questions from and helping put together his grad school applications, oh my grey hairs.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-10-04 10:15 pm (UTC)And seriously, I'm glad we all made it, in spite of the various ways we might not have.
I wondered for a moment about my own history of pink curtain friends - I just had dinner in Seattle with two people who would have been short listed for that honor had it come up in a more classical sense - and for a bit I couldn't think of such a dark night of the soul. But then, there were the people who walked me through the process of how to create a new identity that will stand up to some scrutiny* and help find me safe places to disappear to if it came to that. And D & C,** who let me stay with them after my father came and threatened me at my job and I couldn't go home, even though one was a lawyer and they knew exactly the risk they ran by taking me in. And the whole social fabric that meant I could move out on my own at 15 and... I made bread, and played harp, and had a garden, and made dresses and worked at a music store and it was all pretty nice, really. And the friends who did my hair, and leant me jewelry and other talismans the day I took my father to court. (Armor. It just looked like a skirt and blouse.)
(Which, among other things, meant that I was there for my sister to call when she needed to climb out of her bedroom window and midnight and live somewhere else in an awful hurry.)
* This didn't, in the end become necessary, and I suspect the process has changed a lot since the late eighties.
** Whose eldest son I've been fielding coding questions from and helping put together his grad school applications, oh my grey hairs.