Witchvox Article

Author: MolluskSister23
Posted: November 15th. 2009
Times Viewed: 806

About this time in 1983, I experienced one of the most profound spiritual moments in my life. In hindsight, it is easy for me to see that my Goddess was holding me firmly in her arms through all the tumult; through I did not know it at the time. I thought of this because it was raining outside a short time ago, and I felt called to stand in the twilight rainstorm, just for a moment in remembrance.

I was at a horseback riding summer camp for girls. It was near Lime, New Hampshire, but the name unfortunately escapes me. It's likely long been out of business. I had just turned 12. My parents thought it would be good for me. The truth is that I was in pretty bad shape. Years of severe uncontrolled allergies had prompted a doctor to place me on high doses of Prednisone steroids as a last resort, which is notorious for causing weight gain.

For some reason, my parents seemed to think my round figure was ~my~ fault, and placed me in charge of losing the weight. I guess this was the next best thing to a fat camp without having to tell the neighbors that their little girl was the biggest loser.

Also, I was having huge social problems as a result of being pudgy and insecure. But here, I could leave all those troubles of Junior High behind and make some long-lasting, epic girl-movie friends, right?

Of course not.

As any nerd can tell you, once a nerd, always a nerd. My three streetwise, make-up wearing, smoking and cussing New York City and Brooklyn bunkmates sniffed me out in a second. They made my life utterly miserable for 4 weeks. I didn't have the heart to tell my parents. After all the school bullsh*t, I was failing here, too. I chose to stick it out.

There was one girl in particular who couldn't stand me. I think her nickname was Lo; I can't remember her full name exactly. She was a tall, brick-sh*thouse built thug who completely had it in for this timid, whiny Jersey girl. She picked on me all the time. It took half a day for the two others to join her gang. They were "8-weekers;" staying for the entire summer. I was a 4-weeker. Just July. It was a small detail, but one more wedge Lo drove between me and the rest of my cabin.

I knew no peace; I was like a soldier in a trench waiting for rounds of mortar to pass over, praying I wouldn't get hit. She and her pals even tried screwing with me in my sleep until they figured out that I was a lighter sleeper than all of them, and if they even moved toward my bunk, I was up like a shot. I remember her following me out to the bathroom almost nightly, which was up an enormous, unfamiliar hill in the woods.

Terrifying alone, gut-wrenching at midnight with two or three pack-bitches nipping at your heels and NO counselors anywhere (this is typical, I've found. As soon as the PIC (people in charge) know there's bullying going on, they make themselves as scarce as can be, true even today) .

She attacked me on every level of my very being: my clothes, my personality, my background, my family. I think she even threatened to come to my home and kill my dog. I'm thinking she's either in jail, dead or a judge by now.

One late afternoon near the end of my four weeks, she was in an especially bad mood. It had been raining hard; all the day's activities had been canceled. We were all in our cabin, aimlessly passing the time as tweens do. Lo abruptly got up off her bunk, walked over to me and shoved me, hard.

She started accusing me of something insignificant, and wouldn't let it go. I wasn't fighting back at all at that point in this dark month of my soul; I guess I was too exhausted from the entire ordeal. I resigned to take her crap, hoping she would eventually tire, and move on to something more entertaining.

But she got louder and louder, angrier and angrier. Usually, her accomplice chuckleheads would be joining in the fun by then, but I don't recall them saying a word. She was so crazed she scared off her back-up.

Finally, she picked me up by my collar and dragged me to the door. She told me to get lost, and that if I ever set foot back in that cabin, she would beat the sh*t out of me. She opened the door and threw me out into the mud. As the door swung shut, I scrambled and slid down the hill, believing every word.

It started raining quite hard, the long vertical streams of rain running rivers down the hill to the lake. I stumbled, my sobbing invisible and drowned-out by the downpour. I had no idea what to do. There were no PIC around; I couldn't go back. I figured I would have to find someone at some point. But there was no one around. Help may just as well have been miles and miles away. I had the acute understanding that it was just the rain and I.

People often ask me when I became a Pagan, when I came to worship the Earth. I tell them I've always been one, even when I myself didn't know it. When no one wanted me, when there was no one to rescue me, or protect me, the Great Mother, Sister Moon, was at my side. Such was the case on that dark day.

I was overcome with a feeling of clarity in the moment I have only felt once or twice since. I don't want to say that I had the feeling everything would be OK, because I knew it wasn't. As I stood there, drenched, listening to the trickles of water and rustling trees, I allowed myself to be enveloped by my surroundings.

And in that moment, I was safe.

I didn't have to go anywhere; I was right where I needed to be. I could stand there all day, and all night, if necessary. For I was not alone. The wind, the rain and the forest were all with me. I was in my church, tended to by my priestess, among my congregation. My prayers did not go unanswered.

I didn't realize it, but I had come to stand near another cabin housing another four girls. Someone inside must have noticed me, and a couple of them came running out to collect me. They gave me a towel and sat me down. I guess I was hyperventilating and not making much sense at first, but after a few tries, I ultimately spilled my guts to them. I expected to get the same treatment I had been getting, but I didn't feel like I had any more to lose. I'd just go stand back outside, no problem.

To my great surprise, the other girls were furious. They seemed a lot nicer than my bunkmates; maybe it was just bad luck to get placed with the hooligans I ended up with. They all said I could move into their cabin immediately, and that we were all going to my cabin, right now, to settle the issue.

As any parent will tell you, Hell hath no fury like a gaggle of pre-teen girls on a righteous mission. Curiously, none of them had high opinions of Lo. Go figure. There may have been a junior counselor involved at that point, I'm not sure. So, up we marched, back to my Hot Gates.

Lo was sleeping face down on her bunk. Someone kicked her bed and demanded she account for her treatment of me. My other bunkmates, her peanut gallery, immediately switched sides and stood behind me, arms crossed. I was so in shock, I said nothing at all. I remember her sleepily apologizing, mumbling something about her grandmother dying the day before. Funny, I don't remember her leaving for a funeral, so that was likely bullsh*t.

I started to pack up my things, but I was persuaded to stay where I was somehow. Lo promised everyone she would back off, and I was promised that I could leave at any moment, should she slip up. She was also warned that she would not be able to stay the full 8 weeks of camp if she continued acting the way she did.

But the girls from the other cabin checked in with me for the rest of the week anyway, and I don't remember any standout incidents after that. For myself, I knew time was on my side; I was a 4-weeker, and the end was nearer than I thought.

My parents surprised me a few days later and took me home early. My earthly mother confessed to me she knew ~something~ was wrong. Perhaps my rainstorm reached all the way to the Jersey Shore, sounding a warning. Funny, all the girls, even Lo, insisted on hugging me good-bye. Their eyes cried "Please, don't tell!"

After we were clear of the camp, I gave my parents the abbreviated version of my month-long misery. Horrified, my mother announced that was the last time I'd be sent anywhere alone until I was old enough for college. And that was the end.

Sort of.

I always thought it was supernaturally fortuitous that my mother insisted on coming early; again, my Goddess was there for me to help me limp across a threshold. I got my first period in the hotel the night they came to get me. I imagine what a horror trying to navigate that would have been on my own, under those circumstances.

Ultimately, puberty solved 50% of my problems. I lost 30 pounds. I got breasts. I grew 2 inches. I got a Billy Idol haircut. I set to mastering the teenage snarl. Had I returned the next year, I would have been nigh unrecognizable. Maybe I would have found the courage to feed Lo her teeth. Or at least piss in her bug juice.

I have no pictures from this camp. I have no letters, no ribbons, no tangible remembrances, and my entire memory of the place is full of holes. The mind protects, etc. Like the rain, it's all gone down, down into the ground.

Still, sometimes I wish I could go back into that downpour, just for a moment. I think part of me died there, on that afternoon. The other 50% of me that wasn't cured is still drenched, on that hill in the woods, alone, waiting for me to rescue her. Except she never needed rescuing.

Some days, I feel surrounded by too many hostile campers. Either Lo is everywhere I turn, or I become her, driving people away with anger and negativity. I'm trudging up a lonely hill in the middle of the night, wild dogs at my heels. I crave acceptance. I wish for harmony and peace. I need a friendly place with loving-kindness.

I'm still waiting for someone to take my hand, and lead me out of the rain. However, sometimes in the middle of the storm is precisely where we need to be.

And I was never, for one moment, alone.

Copyright: Written by me, I retain all copyrights.

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MolluskSister23

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