The rejected female and the birth of Lilith in me

I have always been fascinated by the figure of the 'devil' — in the most simplest forms, the personification of evil. Immediately, I'm pretty sure that some of you are probably thinking that I'm romanticising in the satanic realm, which is not the case.

The initial depiction of the devil that comes to mind is often male — red skinned, sinister and horned, or the satanic ram with the Baphomet Star tattooed on its head. However, I've always visualised this character as female, with a strong a confident exterior but innocence in her eyes and softness in her voice. I liken her to characters such as Adam's first wife, Lilith, the Hindu goddess Kali or a more mainstream depiction, Maleficent. My subconscious has empathised with their suffering and strength. Their lives tell the story of the rejected female — pure hearts that have suffered terrible betrayal.

The bitterness and sense of the rejected feminine...echoes the tale of the diminishment of the Moon, and the everlasting cry of wounded feminine hurt and rage. On betrayal in the deepest places of the feminine psychology...One can feel the Lilith hurt also, beneath the unyielding reproachfulness of an animus ridden woman's tirade.

— The book of Lilith, Barbara Black Koltuv

Throughout the years, I have built myself to be someone who holds confidence, strength, sexuality and power in all aspects of my life. Whether it's material objects, work, relationships — I know what I want, and I know what hard work and strength is needed to reach that. But in order to get here, I've pushed my emotions onto the back-burner, because in my eyes, "as soon as you show your emotions, others have the upper hand to inflict pain — and I don't like to look at pain in the face".

The truth is, for years, I have been trying to compensate for the little girl, Reena, who knew she didn't fit in — for the outcast in primary school, for the girl who walked around the playground alone, for the girl who was called quiet and was never admired by the boys, instead they shouted at me for having "fat thighs", for liking the music that I liked and for wearing washed out, hand-me-down uniform — I just never really fit in. I wasn't pretty like the other girls, but I was clever — I found that if I couldn't beat them, I'd join them — I started dressing like a boy, I played football, I climbed things. And although, the name-calling and disgust in myself didn't stop there, I felt more powerful and in control that way.

In my adult years, I started to embody a character that little Reena did not recognise — so far from what she ever knew. And when it came to dealing with any form of struggle, I would close my eyes and imagine myself dark-skinned, piercing black eyes, horned and strong shouldered — this new woman would step out to protect me from the outside world — from the loneliness, the name-calling, the patriarchy, the manipulation, the cheaters — from the true evils out there.

Between the age of 25 and 27, she was all I knew. A woman who was once created to protect little Reena had now locked her in a cage and thrown away the key. This new force had no emotion — she thought she was invincible, not phased by anything. She ignored any form of connection or emotion — she just survived. I would wake up, work hard, go out, intoxicate myself, sleep, wake up, go on dates, have sex with men and never see them again. Each day, I was feeling more and more hurt, less connected and generally bitter. I would catch myself crying in my room more and more frequently, but I would pull myself together and live that life on repeat — over and over and over, posting each minute on Instagram so that everyone could see that I was okay. From the outside, to my family and friends, my life probably seemed ideal, successful, fun, flirtatious, full of adventure.

But as much as I thought I was protecting myself, I ended up hurting myself instead. I had wrapped myself in thorns, and then hated everyone for not being able to feel the raw emotions behind the secure exterior. I have been lacking true connections, true emotions and the ability to allow people to see me – see that sometimes even the most secure-seeming people need to be held.

I still admire my strength and power as a female, and I don't want to relinquish the devil inside, but I do need to learn to be more open and vulnerable with all of my emotions. I need to find the balance between the dark and the light — giving time for little Reena to step out too. I need to put all of my cards on the table, and stop being so bitter towards people, especially men, for their inability to see me — because I need to learn how to show myself too.