Catherine Sevenau is a writer and storyteller who is out to capture your skittery mind. She's penned three books, compiled numerous collections of family genealogy, and has been a regular columnist in the SUN since 2016. She can be reached at [email protected].
Queen Bee
I am the Queen Bee. You know how I know? My friends tell me, and I have a pair of blue bikini panties with a queen bee on them to prove it. I’ve been known as the Carrot Juice Queen, the Dance Floor Queen, and the Queen of Sonoma Real Estate. I’m Her Highness in my family, Her Oneness in class, and Her Eminence at work.
I’m the Queen of Complaint and the Queen of Control. This world would be a better place if everyone would do it the right way. Besides, if I didn’t try to control everything, who would? It might just all fall apart. I’m clear it’s up to me to be in charge. It’s the Queen’s job!
I’m the Queen of Funny. I hang out with my sons though—just to make sure I don’t get too queenly. You see, my sons don’t think I’m so funny. Perhaps it’s just a timing problem. I gave my younger one a cartoon with this therapist slapping his patient upside the head, telling him to “Snap out of it!” The caption: SINGLE SESSION THERAPY. “I suppose,” he said, “you think that’s funny?” I thought it was hilarious.
I’m also the Queen of Confusion. I know right from left, though in dance class my teacher would say, “Now come forward on your right foot” and I’d do that and my partner would lean into me and whisper politely, “Your other right foot.” I do know up from down, however.
I saw a healer as my bones were aching so much. “Your bones are fine,” he said. “It’s your mother. She hasn’t passed over yet and needs your help to get to the other side.” He said she was my spirit guide, that I had a lot of work to do and needed her help, that she couldn’t help me until her journey was complete and to pray for her and my ancestors every night.
As a kid, I knew I wasn’t a queen. I was invisible and it didn’t matter if I was there; sometimes I’d sneak a look in the mirror to see if I existed. I thought something must have been wrong with me, and if I could be perfect, I might be able to fix what was wrong.
But I’ve been making up for all that these last few years—and what I know in my regal heart is that everything is perfect, and that surrendering is my work. I’ve wired it up to protect this Queen of Hearts and it’s taking some time to undo these bindings, piece by piece. I have to be careful, as I think my heart might be cracked as it hurts so much sometimes. I have help, too. I have honeybees in my heart, making honey from my fear, shame, resentment, and guilt. I now know I have the heart of a queen, filled with courage and love. You know how I know? My friends tell me. And sometimes, when I take a peek in the mirror, I can see it too.
3 thoughts on “Queen Bee”
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Loved this the first time! Thanks for reposting.
I still have trouble with the right/left thing. Always have to stop and think. When driving, one has to say ‘driver’s side or passenger side’ to get me to turn the proper direction. I can’t remember when your birthday is (doing good to remember mine) … I have a couple of friends who are Virgo’s who also have the problem. However, my mother would not let any of us kids be lefties. I know this because I saw her thwarting one of my younger brothers when he started reaching for things with his left hand.
Moms …
Fun read. Thank you.