HarleyQuin or Joker

HarleyQuinn-or Joker?

One evening, early one as a member in this group, this author recognized the frustration in a statement by another member. Forever trying to solve everyone else’s problems, I told the young woman she could privately message me. After many hours of talking, I found a kindred spirit, and a younger sister. From that night Harley and I have bonded over many hours of talking realizing how similar we are in our past histories, our religious and philosophical beliefs, our wretched relationships and we realize that the bonds of sisterhood do not always come from a bloodline.

Finding a relationship akin to family in a social media across miles and distance is what draws me to writing this blog. What is it about social media and peoples commonalties, the ties that bind, that connects them? After that night on the computer with Harley, I had to meet her, and that weekend was my chance.

As she opened the door my long, colored sock clad sister, still very funky and punky in her mid-30’s jumped into my arms and we hugged and squealed like the long lost sisters we were. At last we walked inside and exchanged gifts we had been collecting. Amongst mine were various rocks and gem stones that Harley is famous for collecting and energizing, amongst minge were fresh herbs from my garden.

We spent the day at her favorite place, the Jetty at Pt St. Lucie; like myself Harley is drawn to water for cleansing, regenerating, and healing properties. It was at the Jetty that I learned more about my most wonderful girl.

Like the rest of us in this Twisted group, Harley is dealing with inner and outer demons. Throughout the day we speak of different people and different topics, the friend who overdosed on Molly, her dad who works at the jail, the store where she gets her stones, Cracker Barrel, where she waits tables. She talks and smiles through it all. Through her talking she spills some of her secrets.

Mistakes from her past catch up with her daily and she fights to keep them at bay. Poor advice from years ago has her in constant fear of losing her 2 children of which she only has 40% custody. Optimism and faith in her children’s father is what keeps her going. That and the love for her two babies. It’s crazy what we do for love. She lives in the constant belief that one day this man will come clean to his family and tell them that he still love Harley, and they will reunite and be the happy family they are behind secret doors. The pain behind her laughing eyes is there even though she always wears a smile.  Ironically, HarleyQuin wears the Joker’s smile.

I want to share more, and truthfully it’s taken me over a week to write this because I also want to be selfish and keep my memories of Harley to myself. Because she is a little treasure. She is the gold nugget miners search their lives for, the diamond deep within the coal, the amber trapped within the tree. When people are around her, they immediately are lightened in spirit. She is an energy transferor whether she means to be or not, but there is just something about being in her presence that automatically lightens one’s spirit.  She is infectious, the black plague of happiness.

Because she transfers her happiness to others, she leaves very little for herself. By the end of the day, her eyes are cast downward, her smile is half twisted, her knees drawn to her body. She is a butterfly drawing itself back into its cocoon to be reborn the next day. She is awaiting a phone call from her love and children, awaiting news of her impending future, her anxiety is returning. This is her daily ritual. Why my sister wears the HarleyQuin mask.