Patterns & People

I wear a lot of black clothing now because my mom never allowed me to wear it growing up for new-agey spiritual reasons.  All colors are imbued with an energetic frequency, she said. Black supposedly attracted dark, malevolent forces into your life if you wore it too much. I never really believed this, but I decided not to argue with her. Truly dark, malevolent forces would never be swayed by something as mundane as the clothes that you wore, I figured. I was more afraid of people and patterns. People terrified me; patterns solidified my pre-existent fears, they were everywhere. I started noticing the patterns in nature; what did the shape of this cloud signify? That V-shaped flock of birds in the sky? What were they trying to communicate to me? Who was speaking through them? Was it God? The fae? Mother Earth? I wasn’t sure. Regardless, most patterns registered as ominous in my young mind. That cloud meant that mom is going to die. Those birds meant that you are going to die. My innate fascination with patterns has proven to be both a blessing and a curse; an eye for beauty and an OCD diagnosis, among other things.
I imagine that mom and dad had the stranger danger discussion with me, but if they did, they didn’t need to. Somehow, I already knew that people were dangerous before I knew much of anything else about the world. When strangers or distant relatives (essentially anyone who wasn’t my parents or my maternal grandmother) tried to say hello to me or even if they looked at me for too long, I would burst into tears and bury my face into my mother’s side. People wondered what was wrong with me; Traumatized? Autism? There was no obvious explanation.
My psychology and behavior growing up - which mystified the majority of the people in my life - becomes much clearer as the years continue. It makes sense for me; the panic attacks, the agoraphobia, the crying spells, the insatiable sexual desire, the repression, the obsession, my fascination and fear of other people. In a way, black clothing is now imbued with meaning for me in a way that it wasn’t before. It’s become a part of my individuation process, it means growth. It is soothing, protective, and sensuous.