Valentine’s Day — Be Mine or Be Gone
In grade school, it was mandatory to give each classmate a valentine –– a card, a cutout, something sweet on a piece of paper or some kind of chocolate candy that was too sweet and usually stale. Frantically, on the day of February 14th, each kid would have a bag filled with these cards addressed to each student.
Yes, I got cards.
Just like everyone else.
Sometimes, the card had no inscription (that was a relief) or had some negative thought written on it (an early taste of cruelty), and I had to act like all was ok –– because everyone else was elated at the cards they had received. I had to act as if this was a wonderfully exciting day, pretending that each card had some endearing sentiment on it and thus my acting career began. You see, I got deeper into the role of the outsider looking in. Into my own definition of grief. Going deeper into my own tunnel of love, filled with the joy of fantasy and illusion. The archetypal trickster was by my side, As I became the epitome of a true outlier. Going into observation mode, kept me partially safe, from the pain, that sheared my heart as I watched the card exchange between others in the room, watching them adoringly giving hugs and sharing giggles was further indication, that this was not my holiday, this was not my game, and this was definitely not my wheelhouse.
It embedded a realization of what it really means to be in the group of Be Mine or the group of Be Gone. The Be Gone group of one; I smile now as I think about it, (I know, you need more than one to form a group, humor me on this one) though filled with many; the many of my imagination, those love figures, who became alive within me even as a fractured 4th grader. Who were my heroes? Who became part of my world to help me filter through the cruelty of being in the Be Gone group? It was the imaginary friends…it was the very handsome older boy, Paul, who lived across the street and when he said hi to me, somehow it meant he loved me, and it was all those fantasy love figures, like Clark Kent, I kept looking for my superman from the movies. The lingering kiss, the idealized lover archetype who could do no wrong––their shadow self would only turn up later in the movie. I could ignore that part of the story because it didn’t fit the fantasy or the illusion.
In the world of fantasy, I kept thinking my prince will come, I’ll be swept off my feet, and I’d be part of the Be Mine group. Then one fateful day, many years later, I ran into some folks from that class, the 4th-grade class, and realized how much their Be Mine group kept them exactly where they were. It was as if they had not really changed, maybe they were older, fatter, wealthier, or parents, but they were part of the Be Mine group who had never moved out of their comfort zone, never expanded beyond the lives set out for them in 4th grade. There is something wonderful about the Be Gone group. If you’re in the Be Gone group, and you actually got gone, left the home town culture, the world got bigger, with every step of daring, spontaneity is enhanced, and the power within is limitless.
