Of the Indigo Child Who Isnt Mine except in My Heart….

Indigo Child

Image by wasabicube via Flickr

This is a story I want to tell of the Indigo Child who isn’t mine except in my heart.  But that makes her just as much mine as any other child I have carried and brought into this world.  At least I feel like it does.  I met her on a fine September day.  Id like to say all the neat stuff about the crispness in the air, the smell of fall…but it was hot as hell seeing as how we live where it doesn’t cool down until mid Oct at least so I gotta skip that.

 She is the eldest daughter of the man I love and she came to live with us that September.  It was kinda a flook, she came to visit and due to circumstances we are not needing to rehash, she stayed.  And I am glad she did because she stole my heart the very first day (I won’t admit that to anybody mind you).  She has the most gorgeous red hair, really and I will sneak a picture of it in here somewhere.  That day she had it braided into two long braids.  Did I mention it is long?  It is.  She came right into my room and plopped down in a patch of sunlight and was just who she is.  That’s all.  It wasn’t at that time we discussed being an indigo child but if you had told me right then and there she was an indigo child, I would not have questioned it one single bit.  It would have sounded right.  It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

If I were to write here everything she is and has done for me, how she has made my life a better place, how she amazes me every single day, you will be reading for days.  I have been told that blogs should be kept short and sweet and I am not always the best at that as it is but I am really going to break the rule today. Even condensing as I am.  So I ask you to bear with me…….It will be worth it to see it through to the end.

A little background;

I am one of those people who was born at the wrong time.  I am sure I should have been a hippy and positive I can not say I was one in my past life as I was born in 1969 and I think you aren’t allowed to come back that fast.  Unless I was an exceptional hippy whose life was tragically cut short and the powers that be took pity on me.  Nah.  I don’t see that being the case.  I feel like I got jipped all around.  I was born the month of Woodstock but my Mother didn’t even know it was going on (possibly a slight exaggeration, she knew but I bet she didn’t care.  And that isn’t a knock on my Mom either.)   I don’t even have hippy parents.

So I am puzzled why people describe me as a hippy, free spirit, believer of a free mind, free love and drugs.  It’s not as if I truly live these principles.  Really.  In tenth grade I was quite expressive of my make love not war ideology but I’ve often wondered if it was just to be different.  Upon reflection I don’t think so, I think that soon after that I was rounded up back onto whatever it is my generation was supposed to be. I got sucked in by the need for acceptance so started acting the “right” way but I am still a hippy at heart.  Even though I am surprised when someone refers to me as such, especially my kids, it kind of gives me a warm fuzzy that the people who know me, know me.

I should have been a hippy but I missed all the fun.

My understanding of generations is a little murky because there seems to be a lot of different opinions and years and all that but for the purpose of my ramblings, the baby boomers were the hippies (and again, not all of them because my parents surely weren’t) and my generation for all intents and purposes has been coined Gen X .  A reactive generation to be sure composed of children born during a spiritual awakening. And that is ok, just not as cool as being a hippy

I’m not sure if it is my hippiness itself that lends itself to me being a free-thinker, open-minded, willing to accept new ideas just because they sound pretty darn cool.  If it’s not that it may be that I am left-handed or bipolar or just gullible.  Whichever.  I’m not a firm believer in the way things are is the way they are.  And I am not trying to get philosophical so let me get to the point.

At some point during out conversations, Nicole (that’s her name) told me that she is an Indigo Child.  That sounded pretty darn cool especially when she explained that Indigo Children are special and have an aura of  – you guessed it – indigo.  I think you have ot be kinda a hippy, or left-handed  or bipolar to just accept that as fact and I embraced it as strongly as I embraced her.  It fit.  It’s Nicole.  It was the perfect answer to the uniqueness of her.

I have done a little research on the term lately and there is a lot more to it than that.  Some that fits some that doesn’t.  I’m not going elaborate because it defeats the purpose by pointing out any negative connotations.  So hooey on that.  I take what I want and it works for me.  It’s still within the realm of the definition.

She gets me.  That in itself is quite an accomplishment.  She taught me how to use Google.  Yes I mean on a regular basis, as a tool.  If she doesn’t know something, she will Google it and honestly for a while until I caught on she looked at me funny (not bad funny) that I too hadn’t  just gone to google to figure something out.  Her life hasn’t been particularly easy and yet she is the best person to make any stinky situation fun. She is the oldest child so feels responsible for everyone and everyone’s happiness.  A fact that hurts my heart sometimes because I see how she absorbs everyone’s pain and tries to fix it while ignoring her own.  She took my children under her wing and treated them, still treats them as her own siblings.  My 7 yo daughter has always been an odd child ( and Love,, if you are reading this years from now, I mean that in a way that is just what it is.  Please don’t be upset because it will make sense to you soon)  My dad and I joke that she is a changeling and that she communicates with her people regularly.  To be sure she is strong, stubborn, smart, creative, left-handed (I couldn’t help it sorry) and even at 7 has a very strong sense of who she is and where she belongs.  But she was kind of oddball until Nicole came around.  The two of them together are a force to be reckoned with and neither one of them seems odd when you look at it like that.  I think they have the same people.  Incidentally, just because I thought it was funny, my 7 yo had just finished making all kinds of symbols on my parents driveway one day and when asked what they were she replied “It’s a message to my people.  I hope they get it”

Nicole is an artist, a thinker, a hard worker, a pleaser.  I am old enough to be her mother technically but wasn’t available when her souls was looking for a mother.  That is why she is the daughter of my heart.  Cause I missed the chance to be her Mother.  She was nearly my step daughter, another story for another day, and so I have to think what to call her. She is my friend.  My muse, my sounding board.  She is the only person who lets me power text her complete nonsense and doesn’t get mad.  My other kids well they tell me often how annoying power texting is.  To them anymore then 3 texts in a row constitutes power texting.  But Nicole will just let me go on until I exhaust myself.  Whether she reads it all or not, I haven’t really asked.  I think she told me once she does but it’s ok if she doesn’t.  I could write a whole other post on how I feel about texting….hmmmmm, I’ll have to keep that in mind. I love to go places with her, the fact that she takes time to say hi to the lobsters at the grocery store is just way too cool.  I don’t have to worry about embarrassing her cause she doesn’t really give a crap.  Or if she does, she humors me.   She is usually the first one to ask me if I might be a little manic.  And usually right at the get go.  I can only hope to be to her half of what she is to me.

She has her dark side.  Most people aren’t aware, but I have seen it and I accept it and her.  I often wonder that considering some of the things she endured, she is not a truly dark person.  She is also clever and has just the right amount of deviousness.  Team Nicole all the way!!!  (just in case lol)  She endures what she has to silently until she needs an ear.  And I am honored if she chooses me for advice or to make her laugh.

“For sure I am just as mama bearish when someone hurts her or mistreast her as I am with my own kids.  And she fits in with my own kids.

She has given me more than I can even start to explain – Google definitely one of the coolest things – just as has each of my other kids.  She has come into my life and taught me so much as if she was 40 ish and I was young and naive.  She is an Indigo Child who isn’t mine, except in my heart.  And that to me is just as good as if I had brought her into this world.

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4 responses to “Of the Indigo Child Who Isnt Mine except in My Heart….

  1. Reading this was a great way to start my day. I love what you said about not being available to be her mom. I have a son-in-law like that! I’d often get the feeling that someone was missing — and then he came along– my son who had a different mom!

    Nicole sounds like Anne Shirley from Ann of Green Gables. If you haven’t read it yet, you will have to now!!

  2. This is the right blog for anybody who wants to seek out out about this topic. You understand a lot its virtually exhausting to argue with you (not that I really would want?HaHa). You definitely put a new spin on a topic thats been written about for years. Nice stuff, just great!

  3. Pingback: Happy Talk from The Coffee Spot 2/19/12 « Running Naked With Scissors·

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