Search The Savannah
The idea of having a circle of special people, of elephants, protecting me and surrounding me with love and encouragement when I am beaten down is surprisingly profound. I have had love and support from family and friends all through my life, to be sure, but the image of a circle of support, a circle of love that can give me respite while I face hardship brings tears to my eyes.
Why such a strong response, I ask myself. Why would the image of a circle of elephants guarding over a birthing mother touch me so deeply?
I grew up in the 70’s. Love was transactional and most of us raised ourselves. Our parents were at cocktail parties busy keeping up with the Joneses. Our dads were having affairs, or had sold their souls to their work, while our moms had to grin and bear their loneliness and lack of fulfillment through dinner. I paint a picture of the time in generalities, yes, yet it is a picture I personally experienced.
The idea of community was centered around Country Club friends, or church friends, or possibly work buddies for our dads, but in each case, at the sight of trouble these ‘friends’ would scurry their way back to a dark corner and pretend to not even know you. It wasn’t really personal. It was just survival.
There was no circle of help offered. Any show of weakness was frowned upon. We were meant to follow these guidelines for success:
Be Seen and Not Heard, Buck Up, You’re On Your Own, Stop Belly-Aching (whining), Put On Your Big Girl Panties, Every Man For Himself, and Grin and Bear It.
I was brought up to be extraordinary, but I had to be so with neither guidance nor safety net. It was expected that I just figure ‘it’ out on my own, and in return, I would give my parents an opportunity to brag to their friends. A transaction that left me feeling lacking in their eyes, somehow. I would just have to try harder, be more incredible, and then, just maybe, I would have my needs for love and belonging met. If I could just (Fill In The Blank) , they would finally see me, love me, and show care.
When that didn’t happen, I unwittingly began to create my own elephant circle. I sought out a few deep friendships rather than a crowd of acquaintances. I was a lone elephant, searching the savannah for a herd that would welcome me into their circle.
And over time, I found my elephants. I found you all and I am grateful.
Thank You For Being My Elephant.
It Begins!
A dear friend gave me an elephant ornament for Christmas. Her gift came with an elephant story typed on a postcard which ended with the words, “Thank you for being my elephant.” My friend left soon after for her 4 month escape from our Colorado winter to the beach, and I remained profoundly touched by those words for weeks after receiving her gift.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Thank you for being my elephant.”
Some mornings I’d wake up with tears in my eyes, touched by my friend’s sentiment. I felt loved and protected so deeply, that I initially couldn’t process what those words meant exactly.
“Thank you for being my elephant.”
We are Survivors. Our friendship started in 2014 after we shared our assault stories over a cup of coffee. Though we come from wildly different backgrounds, we bonded around each other’s trauma, and in the 10 years since, our sisterhood has blossomed. I am honored to be her elephant, and know that she is and has been mine.
“Thank you for being my elephant.”
I started to wake up thinking about other friends who feel like “my elephant” to me. I thought about making elephant charms and sending both them and my elephant story as gifts of gratitude to those people who make up my circle, to those beloved who are my elephants. In my struggle to be whole, in my struggle as a Survivor, I have had a family of people support and love me.
My gratitude for the fierce nature of my family’s care fell over me in waves, both overwhelming and wonderful as I obsessed about how to meaningfully tell each member of my family these few words:
“Thank you for being my elephant.”
I will send charms and my elephant story to each one, for sure, but it also occurred to me that they might each have their own circle. I wondered if each one of my elephants had their own “family” they would like to thank for being their elephant.
And so, Thank You For Being My Elephant began.
And the circle continues.