Candlesticks and Sword Fights

photo by unsplash

Do you ever have something you believe to be so nerdy, and unique about yourself that you never told anyone?

Some of my childhood interests, I believe, had stemmed from my dissociation. My ability to dissociate was a way to cope, without me realizing. Dissociating for me, was not always the freeze response or forgetting where I was. Dissociation also was my imagination and play. I would explore other time periods and settings as a way to cope. I would do this to separate myself from uncomfortable or fearful situations, and also to create a life I wanted.

From a young age I envied the old-fashioned dresses in movies. Yes, even corsets. I wanted to be those girls.

I’m not exactly sure where it first started..

I know I would read Dear America books in elementary school which were historical fiction about different girls' diaries from different time periods of history. One book from the series I loved was called The Winter of Red Snow and it was about a girl who lived during the Revolutionary War. Come 5th grade my favorite movie, even to this day, was Pirates of the Caribbean. I wanted to live the life of Elizabeth Swann. I still am unsure if I wanted to be her, or if I had a deep crush on her. Let’s be honest; both.

I had “imaginary friends” and an “imaginary family”, but I also would be a part of different worlds. I would imagine myself in a dress like Elizabeth, having sword fights. This interest in this era at such a young age, clearly did not have me thinking about the racism or hazings or witch trials or homophobia or lack of electricity or hangings or sickness or war. Would I live in that era now? Hell no! To younger me, it was about the innocent things like dresses and bonnets and candlesticks and bravery.

I developed an interest in the Revolutionary War era and the patriots vs the loyalists. Why would I become so intrigued by this aspect of history as an elementary/middle schooler? I realized later on that the same way I wanted a voice, and to escape wrongdoing, the patriots wanted to fight and protest as well.

Patriots didn’t want the king to control the colonies, while loyalists were obviously loyal to the king, and wanted to keep the peace. I became fascinated in this divide. Despite where that history led to, maybe in a weird way my fascination came from my desire for freedom, and associating that opposition to escaping the unhealthy cycle of my family. Perhaps my family were the kings and queens, and I didn’t see why I needed to support all of their choices and share their beliefs. I know I did not see it this way at the time. It was about what made my heart happy, and my mind busy.

Child Haley likely came through many times as I got older. I’m sure the same things did interest me, but I’m also sure in times of distress it became impossible to turn away from this part of me. My favorite American Girl doll, Felicity, was from Williamsburg, Virginia in 1774. I stopped playing with dolls, but when I reached my sophomore year of high school I was too excited to tour the College of William and Mary during a visit to see my grandparents. I wanted to go to school there and work at Colonial Williamsburg (Yikes. I know, I know). Every time I visited I didn’t want to leave. If it was possible I’d live in the Governor’s Palace. I learned that trip that my GPA left me with a slim chance of being accepted to that prestigious school, and I know now I wouldn’t fit in there anyway.

It gets better. I wanted a vintage nightgown as a child. This could have very well been how I wanted to support my daydream of pretending I was walking to the bathroom with a candlestick in the middle of the night. I got one for Christmas, but it was the wrong size and I never got one that fit. I remember holding it up, twice my size, and saying “what is Santa trying to tell me?” So here we go, in my early 20’s I ordered an adult one on Amazon. I said “fuck it” because I live alone and can live in my own fantasy when I want to. When I would wear it, I would find myself feeling more worthy, maybe even prettier. I stood a little taller, and for some reason it was harder to slip into self-hatred. This is probably that dissociative part that got me through childhood.

I love period pieces. Pure, and historical fiction. I love Little Women, and Anne of Green Gables (highly recommend Anne with an E). Despite the brutal things that happen I also love Outlander, The Patriot, and Glory. I love Little House on the Prairie, Pride and Prejudice, Pirates of the Caribbean, and so many more. While I don’t watch these every damn day, several of these are my comfort films.

Allowing myself to live through books, movies, and different time periods saved my mind. Is it weird, or an example of my inner strength? I remember being so embarrassed to tell my therapist about all of this. I remember her asking why I loved the colonial times and I wouldn’t say. “Of all the things you told me this is the thing you don’t want to tell me?” I laughed. Eventually when I told her about all of this, she said, “What a wonderful life you were able to create for yourself.” I never thought about it this way. She didn’t find it weird at all, and she wanted to hear more about it.

I can no longer be ashamed for holding on to the comforting parts of my childhood. I shouldn’t be afraid of my coping mechanisms, even if they are different from others.

My therapist shared a quote with me, “We are the age that we are, and all of the ages that we’ve been.” I always wanted to keep these things to myself, even as a child. While this doesn’t take up my life as it once did, when I feel the pull to remember this piece of me, I know it’s my inner child reminding me what once saved her.

Maybe I don’t have candlesticks or sword fights, but I guess these things do speak to bravery. I can’t be ashamed of that.