Last week I posted a picture of my Christmas Sugarplum Fairy. All of you seemed interested in her story, so here's what I can tell you.
Last year my sister-in-law gave me this decorative sugarplum fairy, but I didn't get to use it until this year.
That's the story. Not very exciting, I'll grant you, but that's about it.
Now why would my sister-in-law give me a fairy for Christmas? That's probably a better story.
Many years ago I developed a liking for fairies, especially those drawn by Cicely Mary Barker. I couldn't really explain it, I just knew that their images made me happy and filled me with peace. My family accepted this and periodically bought me little fairy-themed items.
Over time I've come to understand that the fairies represented safety and protection to my child-mind. I had "memories" of fairies coming to me and helping me during some of the episodes of abuse. In particular, there is an episode involving the barn where I envisioned fairies watching over and protecting me until the abuse was over.
I used to be embarrassed by this affinity for fairies. I assume what I saw at that time was dragonflies flying over the hay, perhaps even in and out of the barn as the abuse took place, but in my child-mind they became fairies. Fairies sent there to care for me. To offer comfort, peace, and joy, and perhaps, distraction.
I have a lot of fairies in my house. In my bedroom, the bathroom, randomly placed around other rooms. And I have lots of dragonflies now as well. It's a way of honoring my status as a survivor, and a way to banish that unnecessary embarrassment that hounded me for years. We all find ways to survive the bad things.
There are worse ways than fairies.