Fated

The stars write the lives beneath them. Each sparkling dot in the sky lends a piece of fate to every baby. Sometimes they are cruel. They snuff out the first breath of an innocent child. Sometimes they are fanciful. They write soulmates passing in the street only to meet decades later. Sometimes they are kind. Whenever dreams come true after wishing on a star.

They write personalities based on themselves. And sometimes you can betray the one you thought you belonged to.

I was born under the sign of the Ram. A symbol of Fire. A passionate hothead, a leader, a fighter. Determined and happy and just. One of the four Cardinal signs.

I always felt like it fit like fish in the water. I was fearless, empowered, and strong. I was beloved by my star sign. I was the walking epitome of it. Hothead? Check. Confident? Check. Passionate? Check. Fearless? Check. It was a perfect match. I could tell who I was just by looking at the stars.

But then something happened.

While going to work from a party I stopped along the way. I had gotten lost. I needed directions. I pulled into a gas station in a bad part of the neighborhood. I had intended to just ask for directions and leave. I thought I knew the way, but I was so unsure because I didn’t recognize the area I didn’t.

Before I could even step away from my car a man came up to me. He was thin, painfully thin. He had rotten teeth in his mouth and a yellowness to his skin. His hair was mostly gone, and he was wearing clothes too big for his thin frame. I remember how he smelled. Like urine and lake muck. Like metal and burnt rubber. He held a knife in his shaky hands. He sniffed hard and pointed it at me.

And in an instant, my world fell apart.

I was scared. I was frozen in fear.

He said something like ‘hey cutie’. I felt my stomach crumple like paper. He demanded my purse and I handed it over, mind stuck in a loop as I waited for my own demise. When he had rummaged through and found nothing, he threw my bag on the ground, put the knife in his tattered hoodie, and ran. I remember waiting, watching, wondering what had happened. My blood felt like smoke. My head was light. I bent down, picked up my purse, and got in the car. While I was driving, I picked at my face. Soon I had a bruise. I was sobbing. I barely found my way to work, and my boss called my parents.

What was I doing? What had happened to me? The first thing I thought of was how close I had been to death.

The second was how much of a fraud I was.

I couldn’t even protect myself. I didn’t fight, I didn’t argue. I just gave him everything he wanted and hoped. I hoped he didn’t hurt me when he didn’t have to.

I distinctly remember thinking about a personality quiz I had just taken.

Aries: The Honorable.

Aries: The Confident.

Aries: The Fearless.

I wondered if I could twist my actions to bravery. If I could convince myself the brave thing was not to cry, not to scream. If he had tried to hurt me could I have stopped him?

No one from my family understood what it was like. They wanted me to bounce back, to ‘discover who I was again’. But they didn’t realize I knew, more than ever who I was.

I was a fake. A phony. A sham.

I was never the same. My entire family said I had lost my confidence that day. I changed. I became someone meek, shy, and afraid to speak out. Instead of a spitfire leader, I was now a boring people pleaser. Who I thought I was didn’t mean anything. The steel of my soul had been tested and came up lacking. And there was no way to change that.

In just a few moments I became a coward.

I hated myself. The liar. The coward. The weak.

I spent years wondering if everyone had known. If I was wrong about the bravery what else was I missing? Singing, drawing, writing, math, science, and everything I thought I was good at became thin ice. Answering a question felt like tiptoeing in a lion cage. Showing someone my work felt like standing under a microscope. I was certain everyone knew I was a failure. Surely any day they would drop the act and tell me.

My parents tried to help me work through the issues, but they didn’t understand what was wrong. I’m not really sure what they thought was wrong, but I could tell from their encouragement.

“You just need to find yourself again.”

“You’ve lost your confidence.”

“You just need to get out of the house.”

I wish I could have explained sooner, but I didn’t even know what was wrong. I couldn’t fathom the feeling of dread.

The thing that helped me the most was when I was looking at the stars with my father. He was pointing out constellations and explaining their stories.

“Dad,” I remember asking, “Do you believe in star signs?” My dad had stopped and thought before he answered. He was always very careful of the questions I asked when we were alone.

“I believe they can lead you,” he started to say. He spoke slow, not watching me but listening for any reactions. “I think they help people search for who they are and who they want to become. They’re templates to help people find out what options there are, to make them think about who they want to become. I think they’re written to help -kids especially- find their way.”

He made me feel small and safe under the stars that night. We stayed up and talked about the myth of the different constellations, he pointed out Scorpio, which was out at the time. I wonder if he knew how much that conversation meant to me. How much it still means to me.

A guide. A template. Something to help.

Maybe I wasn’t meant to be an Aries. Maybe Aries was just my guide to this world. Maybe I wasn’t as brave as I thought, or as confident as I could be. Aries was only my guide, helping me find my way when I was lost. Maybe even to help me figure out what I needed in life.

I still haven’t recovered, and I still don’t trust myself, even though it’s been years now. But I’m much better than I was. I’m not weak, I’m cautious. I’m not a coward, I’m just not a risk-taker. I still seek justice when I can. I still lead when I’m given the opportunity. I strive to make myself better.

And maybe someday I’ll be able to call myself the symbol of Aries again.