My name is Jackdaw, and for the first time in my life, I am trying to learn how to stay.
Of course, my name isn't actually Jackdaw; it's Tatiana. But it's a blog, so animal-based aliases are fine.
The other half of the sentence was accurate, though.
I've gotten very good at reinventing myself over the past few years. I spent my childhood trying to find ways to distance myself from my trauma, from my self-loathing, from my unattractive body and my unkind thoughts. I wished I was brave enough to dye my hair. I wished I was old enough to move out. I put on accents when I was alone around strangers, told Starbucks baristas a different name every time I went, lied about small things - my mother's name, the place I was born, the pets I had grown up with - and revelled in the untruth of it.
I got old enough to move out. I changed my name. I bought my own luxuries. I was brave enough to get a tattoo, if not to dye my hair. I made this blog. I started going to church.
I hated myself.
I moved again. I changed my name again. I gave every part of myself to a new hobby. I took up new sports. I got two more tattoos. I tried dyeing my hair. I had a lot of sex with multiple people. I stopped going to church.
I hated myself.
I changed my name again. I abandoned as much of the things that had dominated my life the year before as I could. I took up new hobbies. I fell hard and fast into true love. I lost everything. My home was taken away from me. My true love left. What I had not discarded withered in my hands.
I hated myself.
I moved again. I drew hundreds of tattoos in my imagination. I bought hair dye. I considered changing my name. I started going to church again. I told a therapist that I didn't know how to fill the void in my chest that had been empty my whole life, and she asked me why I was running so hard away from myself.
And now I'm here.
Not leaving. Not running. Not making a new family. Not carving a new home from an untouched cliffside.
My name is Tatiana, or Jackdaw if you prefer, and in my lifetime I have become very good at learning how to leave. To leave toxic people, to leave bad homes, to leave names that make me cringe, to leave lovers whom I did not love, to leave lovers who loved me wrong. Always making a home in someone else so that I can leave it at a moment's notice. Never being a home for anyone else in case they want to leave me.
And today, I am learning how to stay.
