So… There’s this girl. Woman, really. She’s 33, turning 34 this year. Her name’s Amanda. She’s changed her name a couple of times, but that’s another story.
She found “Creative Nonfiction” yesterday, both a magazine and the genre. The issue was about voice, finding different ways and perspectives to say something, and that’s the inspiration for this post you’re reading here.
I’m… a personification of her guardian angel. I don’t know why I’m a white guy, with wavy dark hair, when she’s a girl — woman — whose higher self is female and she believes in a non-gendered divinity. And she’s Asian. Yellow-skinned and dark straight hair.
But I suppose I’m a voice that’s familiar. Too many protagonists that are male and white will do that to you, I suppose. Even when they’re written by a woman.
I’m young, I sound young. And I think my name’s Chris. It’s probably a “Charmed” reference, though I wouldn’t want to be her future child/whitelighter travelled back in time. She won’t name her kid Chris though. Her favourite names are Elizabeth and Phoebe and Alexander and Matthew.
To give an overview of my ward, so far…
She did alright in school, graduating with second upper class honours in linguistics from Singapore’s NTU. But she doesn’t think it’s a big deal, because she’s got a low sense of self-esteem. If she can do it, she thinks, then anyone else can. I shake my head at that, and I wish she could be proud of herself for once. Graduating with honours is supposed to be a big deal.
In work she’s on her third career. There was a pretty good run as a ghost writer, when she worked with others to create best-selling books on investment and self-help. Then there was a turn at being an English tutor, and her kids loved her. And now she’s in real estate, as a realtor, while writing again. She thinks she’s lost but I see someone who’s been brave and flexible and smart and capable. Maybe one day she’ll see that.
What has been absolute bullsh*t though, has been her love life. I wish she could see how wonderful and smart and beautiful and funny she is. How she lights up the room with her laughter and her smiles. How she’s so willing to give and accept and be open with her heart. She doesn’t see how amazing these qualities are and she doesn’t know how special she could be to the right person. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel loved, but she will.
Her biggest fear is that she’ll never build anything, because she’s constantly deleting things while she’s searching for her sense of self. I want to tell her that it’s perfectly normal, that it will take time, and that she doesn’t need to be perfect from the very beginning. That she should write and post and grow because that’s how we’re all made.
And her biggest wish, strangely, is love. To live heart-first. To love in its chaos and vulnerability and to find herself safe and balanced and alive.
I don’t know how much power I’ll have to help with that. I am an imaginary guardian angel, after all. But I’d like to think that I can.
So this is my ward, this girl — woman, really — and her name’s Amanda.
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Image of a feather by Christine Sponchia from Pixabay.
