Meet Heloise

Heloise has been here all along. I remember feeling her spirit when I was very small, as a fiery outrage that fueled me when I screamed "NO!" or as the high octane energy that mobilized my legs when I'd take off running at the speed of light. Those were the days when my parents called me wild child and I think Heloise was the one who made me wild. She embodied my truest animal nature and would not hold back on using her teeth as a weapon if the moment called for it. She was so fierce, self-assured and resolute for such a little girl. She could feel the outline of every one of my boundaries and she had no hesitation in clarifying those lines with other people. She fought for me - with no worries about making waves or losing favor. Heloise had fury. Her fury was magical: barely verbal, hugely alive. She had a lot to do with making me me. But at some point in my childhood, Heloise went underground.

This world doesn't welcome Heloises. Girls who don't have filters. Non-people-pleasers. Females who are truest to themselves and no one else.

My husband caught a glimpse of Heloise a couple weeks ago, in a conversation about something that was infuriating me. And much to our surprise (mine and Heloise's), he liked her. A lot. He started inquiring about her and smiling at her. He wasn't afraid of her. He wasn't mad at her. He actually wanted her opinion on important things. When he asked me her name, she blurted out Heloise, leaning into the hell of it. He smiled, enchanted. He let her know there's a place for her here, that he saw the bright glow of her energy and he wanted that glow to light up the world again. (That's the kind of man he is.)

In the days that have passed since her reemergence, she's come more and more alive and started seasoning my life with her furious awareness. I have new appreciation for my irritation. I can move closer to what disappoints me, curious now. Saying no to people feels like a fabulous new option. Through her eyes, it's all fine, like a game that's fun to watch and I can't lose. In her world, anxiety and shame don't have a starring role. She's all about what I want, dialed in to my hunger and my truth.

In a dream I saw what happened when she left. Some of my other parts - good girl parts - had shipped Heloise off to boarding school, determining that we'd have a better shot without her here on the premises. Being nice was necessary and Heloise kept biting all the assholes who I had to get along with, drawing blood and making enemies.

But I'm 51 now, and I don't need to be all that nice anymore. The people who love me love me. I know myself. I know my value. I don't need to be easy or likable. In fact, I like the idea of being a little bit crazy. America is swinging in the direction of being less safe for girls (and all vulnerable people) once again and it occurs to me that I may need to use my teeth in the years that lie ahead. Thankfully, Heloise's incisors haven't lost their edge.