Belief

Chapter 17

The Little Red Haired Girl

17 Belief

“When do I get to be a butterfly and all growed up?” the Little Red Haired Girl asked. She had just woken up and went straight into a previous discussion with a question.

“When you’re grown up” Body answered.
“Oh how many sleeps is that?”
“That varies from person to person. Some people are grown up at 20, some people aren’t grown up until they are 75.”
“Then how can you tell?”
“It not just about the number you reach, or how tall you are, or what you do, its about how you feel.”

“I feel sad in here and I don’t want to be.”
“I know so do I and that’s why we are together.”
“I don’t want to be with you. I want Mummy.”
“I know you do, but don’t be sad, we will see how we can get out of here tomorrow in the daylight.”
“We will?”
“Yes but in the meantime how can we make ourselves feel better? What do you think?”

“We could pretend to be Butterflies and fly out of the window, then we would be free.”
“We could. How about you tell me what you see while you are out there.”
“I could go and see Mummy and see if she is happy or sad?”
“What do you mean? of course she will sad if you are not with her.”
“Maybe” she hesitated. There was a sadness to her eyes, not tearful, just sad and resigned.

“I could show you the back garden and we could make daisy chains and sit with my dolls on the grass?” she said wistfully “as long as my dress doesn’t get dirty and Mummy doesn’t forget I am in the garden.”
“I don’t believe Mummy would do do that.”
“She did and I nearly missed tea, but I made daisy crowns for my dolls.”
“Oh that was nice.”
“Yes but my dress went green and messy, and my hands, and Mummy was cross.”
“Well she must have been worried about getting it clean. Grass stains are very difficult to get out.”
“Mmm. If I was a butterfly would I get dirty wings?”
“No I don’t think so, I’ve never thought about it.”
“That would make Mummy happy, and she would like my pretty clean wings. She would see me better.”

“There was nothing wrong with Mummy’s eyes was there? I thought she even had them in the back of her head coz she saw everything.”
“Yes but she never saw me.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was always busy with smiley baby, or my little brother who she said was a cute naughty boy, or eldest pretty girl.
“Who was the eldest pretty girl?”
“Eldest sister Treesa.”
“Oh O.K.”

“Treesa does ballet and goes to big school. Sometimes if she is feeling nice we do a show for Mummy and Daddy and I copy her dancing, and we sing too and dress up in custumes.”
“You mean costumes?”
“Yes Mummy likes pretty dancing girls”
“I am sure she liked you too.”
“She only liked the prettiest”
“You know you are just as pretty?”
“Am I?” she looked disbelieving. “I am if I am a butterfly” she enthused “we could go anywhere, flit around and land on pretty flowers.”
“We could but you know what, maybe thats one of the reasons you are with me. Could it be that if you believed Mummy thought you were pretty, and told yourself that you were pretty in a different way, that your red hair made you special and ‘seen’. That you were good enough even if all your dresses weren’t clean, that you would become ‘growed up’ and turn from a caterpillar into the butterfly you wish to be?”

Her eyes like large blue buttons on a white shirt, the Little Red Haired Girl took the words in and expressed them directly on her face. She had never thought of it that way and it was instantaneous relief as ‘Fluff’ (her Daddy’s nickname for her) grinned from ear to ear. “Can I do that?”

“Yes, you just have to believe it. And then it doesn’t matter where you land or where you go you will always be a pretty butterfly.” And so she flitted and pretended for a little while in the Pumphouse prison. Her arms became her wings and she tiptoed in circles. Her soul and her heart light and happy.

It would appear to be so easy as a child to believe what you are told. Hell, one didn’t even need to be told one just soaks it up. Soaks up being overlooked or invisible and kind of resigned to it, feelings that at that age you don’t really know exist or can verbalise, or what, who, or where they come from.

“Yes I agree” said Brain “now all you have to do is convince and believe it yourself.”
“I didn’t know you were awake”
“You think I could sleep through all this nonsensical chatter?”
“Possibly not, but to answer your previous statement, that is why we are having therapy, in fact EMDR is…”
“I know what it is” Brain said impatiently “I don’t need you to explain it.”
“Well can you remember the explanation of what it actually is then? coz I can’t.”
“Erm… no not completely, but then, even the experts aren’t sure exactly how it works. The Brain is a very complex organ of the body, still relatively unknown and difficult to assess.”
“There you go then, you aren’t as clever as you think are you? So there is no need to give me the lippy inner voice dialogue that you favour. Give me a break.”

“Point taken” said Brain “but I am not sure about this therapy, not sure I like it.”
“That’s because you cannot control it and you are afraid.”
“Take that back” Brain exploded “I am not afraid and I object to you saying that based on no evidence or facts whatsoever.”

Body smiled “are you having a temper tantrum Brain? one who deals with facts only? Surely not? Or is this what people call EGO?
“I deal with facts only” spluttered Brain.
“You know who you sound like?”
“No, do tell your ‘pearl of wisdom’.”
“You won’t like it!”
“Get it over with then.”
“You are having control issues, a tantrum, and trying to apply facts to emotions, it does not work. You sound like Noswad, the person you least admire at the moment?”

There was silence, Brain was mulling it over
There was a giggle in her left ear as Nana said “well that shut the idiot up” and I giggled too.
“You know your red hair is very special coz I have it too” and she kissed my forehead. The weight was lifted off Bodies shoulders and the Soul felt lighter. Heart still said nothing.
“Give it time” said the familiar unfamiliar voice.

“Who are you?”
“People call me lots of different names and titles, but I watch over everyone. I see everything. I hear everything.”
“But who are you?”
Silence, as somehow she managed to drop off to sleep.