I was doing nothing more complicated than page hopping on 360 while at the secondary plantation, when I saw someone on a friend’s page with the name “Lilith” in her screen name. I smiled to myself and I thought of “Lilith Crane”, but I found my thoughts wandering deeper (also I grant that her name was probably not given without some thought). I began to search for information regarding the Lilith of mythological notoriety. The Lilith who was known as Adam’s first wife, and cast out of Eden in favor of the more docile Eve because she simply would not submit to Adam sexually. The Lilith who consorted with Satan, spawned a legion of succubi, and was given dominion over new babies. The Lilith who presided over the gates of the Underworld alongside Hecate and Persephone.
The more I read, the more I was drawn in, and interestingly enough, the more I began to draw a set of rather startling parallels to my own life. As unbelievable as it may seem, I once lived as Lilith, in a manner of speaking.
Before anyone gets to dialing up the nice people at St. E’s to dispatch to the Honeycomb Hideout to bring me one of those comfortable sweaters with the extra long sleeves, understand that this all applies metaphorically, but the imagery is so real to me that I haven’t been able to let this go, and thus it finds its way to the surface.
I hearken back to the days when I eagerly sought out all manner of bacchanal pleasures as often as time would permit. I would regale my inner circle of friends (some of whom were of a similar mindset) with legendary tales of my hedonistic exploits, and would do so in person over ecstasy-inspiring epicurean wonders at each and every possible opportunity. It was all about pleasure. I delighted in pushing the sensual envelope. I primped and preened relentlessly – after all, it was a requirement that one who behaved as I did must always look her best, must always present herself fit to brandish the triple crown of mystery, power and raw sexuality. I captured, outright stole and brazenly discarded hearts at my whim. I pierced souls and wounded spirits without so much as a care regarding the consequences. Very few got close enough to me to forge lasting bonds because I simply would not allow it. It was not lost on me when an Aunt told me just a year or so ago that even as a toddler, I wouldn’t allow ANYONE to hold me. I was a gloriously vain and unrepentingly arrogant whore, and made absolutely NO apologies for it.
My entire Universe spun on a dime, as I fell in love during a time when I least expected to do so. I quickly found that my pussy and my heart were no longer mutually exclusive. My passion rained for one man and one man only. And it came to pass that Lilith slumbered, and a different Tracey emerged, secure in her relationship and happy in her heart of hearts managing her many roles (mother, lover, sista-friend and seamstress extraordinaire, hellion biker) with her usual grace, panache and aplomb.
I foolishly allowed myself to believe that maybe this time things would be different. When he so violently yanked the rug from beneath me, a downward spiral of sorts began. Unfortunately during the same time period, even as I struggled to maintain some semblance of pride and order in my life, other events transpired that left me broken… disjointed… bereft and set adrift on a sea of misery. I was left to mourn my daughter’s return to her father, and the rest of her family in Pittsburgh (not to mention begin a monumental battle for my very freedom). What kind of mother could I have possibly been for things to go so badly? My mother, herself an incarnation of Lilith, who in her heyday behaved much the same way I did in mine, died unexpectedly. I mourned her passing in fits and starts. So much the same and yet so different; so close and yet so far away, she and I. The simplest truth of the matter is that no matter the relationship a person has with their mother, you only get one, and once she is gone, a void remains.
With these humbling events having come to pass, I found myself at ground zero, standing seemingly amid the smoke and ashes of my ruined life.
Still Lilith slept.
I managed to pull it together and devise a plan to remove myself from rock bottom. My ascent out of Egypt was not easy, but then again, nothing worth having ever is. Through faith and prayer and determination I saw yet another dream slowly come to fruition. I re-established myself as a self-sufficient woman, but a woman far different than the one I knew before. I became a lot quieter and a lot more pensive in regards to the direction my life was taking, not to mention infinitely more careful about whose counsel and company I kept.
Once some of the color returned to my world, I felt her presence. Determined not to make the mistakes that carried me to the depths of Hell, Lilith was again, exorcised; cast out of the Eden I had created for myself.
Or so I thought.
Even as cried and screamed and prayed to God to be let loose of the prison of my indulgent urges, Lilith beckoned to have free reign at the forefront of my life. She played in my dreams and hid in the shadows of the most vanilla existence I have ever lived. But I gained control of myself. And all was well.
Or so I allowed myself to believe.
With the passage of time I have realized that I have become a woman I do not wholly recognize. A woman who out of sheer laziness and boredom shaves her head with some regularity (when I once had hair all my own halfway down my back). I am a woman who generally eschews makeup and trendy clothes for a bare face and conservative, comfortable work clothes (where once there stepped “Fly Betty”, who showed up at work face beat, hair done, in 4” stilettos that didn’t even come off while I went to LUNCH). . I am a woman who consistently downplays the physical beauty that others so readily point out (when I once reveled in the attention that so abundantly flowed in my direction). Most surprisingly, I am a woman who for the greater part of a year, or maybe a little longer, has had very little of my own desire to be physically intimate with anyone… and lord have mercy we won’t get into my emotional unavailability. That’s a novel waiting to happen in and of itself
But wait… what’s that I hear on the wind… a sultry voice and a familiar laugh…
Could it be…?
*devilish grin*
**whisper** … Yes… it’s me… and I’ve been here all along, and I have missed you, my conservative, fearful friend. You see, each time you saw a mischievous glimmer in your own eyes, when you saw sultriness and sensuality in your stride or in your smile, or when others took notice of those things, it was Me, straining against the chains with which You sought to bind Me. You tried to send me away, but I am You, and You are Me, and I will not allow You to banish Me forever.
I am awake, Sister, and shall slumber no more.
I recognize that in my pursuit of a sane existence (because I got way tired of doing shit the same way over and over and not getting a different result), that I passed sane and went straight to mundane. I truly understand the wisdom imparted unto me by a dear 360 buddy when she told me that the most glorious existence is that in which one seeks out whatever it is she needs to make herself the happiest. Those words resonate so deeply within. That combined with the ever growing truth: that when I put other people’s feelings ahead of my own to my detriment, nothing springs forth but contempt and resentment for those I was trying to protect, means that She and I must find a way to co-exist peaceably. I am the sensible She; She is the indulgent, adventurous Me and We are infinitely bound as Yin and Yang.
She is that within me which still screams for indulgent perfumes, lush cosmetics, and designs form-fitting, fashionable outfits in combinations that I would ordinarily not consider. She is that within me who strides confidently to the dance floor in 4” stilettos and unashamedly shakes what her mama gave her. She is that within me who searches for fabulous recipes to plan yummy dinners and decadent libations to prepare and share with the people with whom I most enjoy holding court. She is that within me who longs to share a burning passion as SHE sees fit.
I can allow her those indulgences.
Everything in moderation, right?
That’s right.
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