A child died here….
A child died here and we don’t even have a date of death. Her name was Bealinda Griffin and her cause of death is unknown. Was it neglect? All I know is a child died and all that is left of her is the book. The silver sword.
I read it when I was 10, there is nothing left of that beautiful child, her whole world….innocence. Her essence. Trust. Her heart. Filled with love. She did not survive long after the reading of this book. So this book is one of the last things that she touched. How incredible. That there was once a child. With my name. Her successor was born of pain, desperation, neglect. The girl who loved science, reading, friends. The girl who was healthy, spirited, loving. She is now got a hole in her heart where joy once was and no heart beats inside her chest. What became of the girl who was worthy of love? How did she become a desperate adolescent, a suicidal teenager and an emotionally crippled young woman?
When did the struggle for peace to just exist become an all out war? When did it become too much to survive? When did she drown under the weight of her responsibilities? 13? 14? She was dead by 16 that’s for sure.
The change is so fundamental that I can in no way recognise myself from that deeply focused young girl. Dedicated, ambitious and competitive. Now I have a deep seated belief that I don’t get what I want. Let alone deserve. I used to have fire. Fire in my soul, I was magnetic, driven. I genuinely believed I was the best at everything and would fury like a titan if anyone tried to point out otherwise. I was talented l damn well knew it. She would not recognise me. I wasn’t beautiful, I was worthy of adoration, people would compliment my beauty because it came with the full force of my personality. My personality was beautiful. Just because I am quiet doesn’t mean my personality doesn’t have a punch to it. I loved everything I saw. There was nothing I did not love and I lived fiercely. It was what defined me to do my best. I used to be a campaigner. I used to make war on ignorance..,. Now I just try and make as much peace as possible. There is no feeling anymore and that’s how I know she’s gone. But there has been so little feeling for the past 20 years that I don’t even know what it means anymore. For 4 months my heartbeat returned. Despite being crippled by cold, fear, tragedy, my heart soared. I live for the times when her spirit moves me. I remembered what it was like to throw my head back and laugh. I started to sound the depths of my soul. She returned and the first thing she did was ask questions? Who am I? This body snatcher. What makes my spirit soar? What do I love now? She asked these questions and got no answers. Recently I did something to heal “my inner child” except I didn’t. My inner child is Bealinda-Bea. I came to the rescue of her successor. 20 years too late. She was already gone. Not even bones to breathe life into. Instead the only way to heal my inner child is to remember who she was. Brimming with passions. An absolute force of nature. A polymath, a fighter. She was right. Whatever the occasion she was right and you need to prove her wrong because she knew she was incredible. maybe her cause of death was beating. Profusely beating the hope, joy and resilience out of her until she cowed like a dog and pined and whined for better days. Caged like an animal and never seen again she simply ceased existing. Who killed her? Her parents. They needed her to be someone different. She needed to survive. Guess who won.
A unique beauty about her was her wonderment of the world, her relentless curiosity and passion for knowledge. It was a fire a force, now it’s a book buying hobby. It used to possess my soul. Curiosity killed the cat? No I was curious. Curiosity was me. I was going to be the biggest. The best. The most knowledgeable. The best read, the conqueror. This girl was going to conquer… conquer what you say? Who cares? Conquer everything. “You can’t have it all” they said… nope. “YOU can’t have it all… I can…and I will” I used to genuinely believe with my whole soul that I was a force of nature and I could have anything I wanted. If I said I was going to be UN secretary general… save yourself time and congratulate me now, if I said I was going to solve world hunger. Send me my Nobel by Royal Mail from Sweden… by the time I receive it in the post I’d have earned it anyway. That’s who I was. I was an enthusiast, a pioneer. Unstoppable… until I was stopped. Gone too soon little one. You have much to be proud of. But your life since 2005 has been about survival. There is no honour in merely surviving. Only thriving. This girl, who was powered by herself. Was. Uncompromising. Bold, the boldest for what she loved and she loved knowledge. You needed to get on MY train because it’s the only train in town worth getting on and we go hard. I cannot even begin to describe to you the audacity with which I pursued my life as a child. I was incredibly free spirited, free thinking, I was incredibly….free. I still had to honour my parents and my community, but my life was my own and my whole life was dedicated to being the best. Not my best. The best. Which meant you could compare me with a giant in another part of the multiverse and I promise you if I go toe to toe with that 10 footer. I will win. Why? Because I always do. That was my self belief. Who the person writing this is…. She doesn’t recognise her.
I had the right idea, incorrect execution.
I do need to be someone my inner child would have hugged. But not the broken, beaten, belittled and bullied little girl from Southampton. No the audacious, assertive, precocious young lady that died somewhere between 11 and 13.
Let’s raise a glass to her.
Honour her memory
Embody her spirit
Welcome back to planet Earth Bealinda-Bea
Grace and Courage
Annetta Mother Smith.