World of Warcraft and Mental Health

About four or five years ago, I went through something that turned my life, and my head, completely upside down.

It started with, of all things, a migraine.

I was used to them. I got them all the time. I had them for days at a time. I pushed through. I got things done. I ignored the pain, and mostly, that worked. Admittedly, as things progressed, the amount of days I spent enduring migraines lengthened, until I quite possibly had less than a week out of every month where I wasn’t in pain… but it happened so slowly that by that time, I had adjusted. I persevered.

Until one day, my body decided enough was enough.

I had a migraine so severe I was screaming in pain. We rushed to the hospital, where they struggled to help. Eventually, the pain faded, and we went home… where I couldn’t forget what had happened.

The anxiety and fear of both the pain, and not knowing what had happened to me, or why, eventually led to another screaming migraine.

And another.

Finally, I was in such a state of constant vigilance, I couldn’t cope with even my normal migraines. I started having dreams of dying.

I had a dream of walking out into traffic… and I woke up completely numb – I felt nothing about it. I understood, my subconscious was speaking about my desperation. I wasn’t suicidal, but when you’re experiencing trauma coupled with pain, your brain does a funny thing. It grabs onto any idea for relief.

When I was a child, I was hit by a car, and I died. While I was dead, I experienced not light, but darkness. Pure, empty darkness. There was no pain, there was no fear, there was no hate, there was NOTHING… and it was the most beautiful, quiet experience of my life. When they brought me back, I cried for days, because I didn’t want to leave that peace for a life that was nothing but horror.

So of course, when I was again experiencing something I couldn’t cope well with, my brain remembered what it was like to be dead… and suggested, through dreams, that solution.

This is actually quite common in trauma patients. This does NOT mean they are suicidal. It means that their subconscious is reaching for a way out. That doesn’t mean they have any intention of acting on it… it just means they’re nearing the end of their endurance.

Realizing what my dream signified, I knew I needed medical assistance to get my pain under control. I had my mother take me to the hospital, where I TRIED to explain to multiple medical professionals about my pain, and the dream, and what I needed.

THEY decided I was suicidal, and stopped listening to me. They sent me to an inpatient psychiatric facility for a week, where I experienced even more psychological trauma. The only person I met during that week who DID understand was a paramedic who was an Iraki war veteran. He had shrapnel in his head. He lived with pain daily. He understood the difference between wanting to die, and your brain trying to find solutions to situations.

The end result of these experiences was an anxiety disorder, severe depression, and PTSD.

I sat on the couch for two years. I barely spoke. I wasn’t really aware. People spoke to me, and I honestly felt everything they said meant nothing. Their questions were all obvious, and clearly rhetorical. I stared at the world, and felt nothing, thought nothing. I was empty, at the bottom of a deep well. The world was very dark, and I didn’t care. The only time I experienced any emotions, I would be having a panic attack.

Eventually, we realized that the hospital’s solution of drowning me in medication I didn’t need had exacerbated my situation. My doctor took me off every medication she could.

I was unmedicated for a little over a year…. and slowly, I started to live again. I wasn’t my old self, by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t think I’ll ever get that person back. She died – that’s how I look at it. We found out that I have a sensitivity to sugar. I’m not diabetic – it’s a different issue. If I have too much sugar, I get migraines. We also found out I needed glasses, which clearly contributed to my issues. Dehydration and forgetting to eat definitely contribute, but the main cause is sugar. I stopped drinking gatorade, which I had been drinking because of chronic electrolyte deficiencies, and got an app for my phone that reminded me to drink, and to eat. My migraines and my anxiety both cause me to become very scattered and forgetful. I needed those apps.

Because I was home, and unwell, I had a lot of spare time. I read a lot, but even someone for whom reading is a passion can become tired of reading when that’s ALL you do… so I started playing games from Google Play. I played mystery games – games with a story line, where you would have to find objects, and use them to complete tasks to get to the next section of the game.

I bought a LOT of games. It was becoming expensive.

My husband suggested I try creating a character on WoW. When we first met six years ago, I had tried to play, but I had this tiny Vista hybrid laptop. It had a flip around touch screen, and the latency on the thing was so bad, I couldn’t see what had killed me… It was so bad, that I got very frustrated and just decided that I wasn’t a gamer. I didn’t blame my tech… I blamed myself. After all… I’d played console games with friends. I knew I was bad at games. Shoot – I died during RPG’s.

However, he convinced me to give it another go. I had a newer computer, and he’d played on it. It wasn’t awful, so he thought I would be able to play. He was right, for the most part.

Because I have a lot of social anxiety, I didn’t run any dungeons. I just quested. Despite that, I leveled a toon to 100 in under four months. For a new player, that’s pretty good. He bought me Legion as a present, for making it that far.

The thing about Warcraft is that it gives me goals. Small, achievable tasks, for which I gain rewards. Slowly, my mental health improved, because my confidence in my own ability to solve problems grew. I started running dungeons with my husband and his best friend. I joined a guild and ran some content with them.

My new laptop couldn’t handle Legion. I had latency issues. I had lag issues. Loading into dungeons and scenarios took too long, and I frequently dc’d and spent a lot of time catching up to groups… and dying.

We started saving for a computer that could handle Legion. I got The Beast as a Valentine’s Day present this year. I LOVE my Beast.

After I got The Beast, and realized that a large part of my problems WERE in fact technological, I started feeling confident enough to pug dungeons. We moved to a higher population server (we’d been on Moonguard, which is an RP server, and not really our style) which was progression based, because I finally felt ready to move forward. To challenge myself.

I found a WONDERFUL guild. I can’t even begin to express how helpful and understanding they’ve been. I was clear from the start about my issues, and the reason we click so well is that they are a group designed to support people with my health issues.

Because of Warcraft, and a strong support system, I’ve begun to enjoy being challenged. I still get frustrated if I die a lot. I feel like I’ve failed my team. It just pushes me to learn more.

I’m working, right now, to gear a new character, because I want to get into the higher level dungeons, the mythic plusses, and into the Nighthold Raid. I want to run the heroic Guldan battle, and get my Ahead of the Curve achievement.

I want to be ready for when Tomb of Sargeras comes out. I want to be in the front lines. I want to be part of the team of guildies who run mythic challenges for the guild weekly.

A friend dragged me into battle ground scenarios last weekend. It was the first time I’ve done real PVP stuff. I didn’t die as often as I expected. It was chaotic, and confusing… but I learned a lot. I think I’d like to do more, because I know things about my toon I didn’t know before.

 

I have gone from someone who, when I couldn’t log into my bank account, ended up curled in a ball under a coffee table, completely hysterical, to someone who is actively looking to challenge herself. To push. To grow.

World of Warcraft saved me. I am reborn, and I am ready to face the World… and the world.

Thank you, Warcraft, for teaching me that I Can. And thank you, my husband, for insisting I try it. You’re right… it’s cheaper… and a lot more fun.

 

An Ending

For years, I believed that you did things because it was all you knew. I thought you showed me how much you cared when you sent me food, cat toys, clothes, books, blankets weighted specifically to help with me with my autistic anxiety attacks, because you didn’t know any other way to show me – and I excused that because of how far away from each other we were… Even stranger, in the beginning when I kept telling you not to do these things, because I felt I would owe you something in return (because everyone always wants something in return for their charity), and because I felt that anyone who buys me things was attempting to buy my love (because it’s happened so many times before) – you told me not to worry about it. None of that was true about US. WE were DIFFERENT.

When my illness became so bad I couldn’t communicate anymore, you waited for me to answer your texts – even when it took months, even when my answers simply never came. Of course, you took me to task for my negligence of you, but you were always been the first to admit you are needy and greedy – and I always assured you that wasn’t the case. I agreed that I was the negligent one.

When I was so sick, I simply wanted to die, and you would tell me I wasn’t allowed to die until you were ready to go, yourself, I told myself that you were being loving… the truth is, telling someone they can only die on your schedule is cruel, and grasping. It is not caring when they’re experiencing what I went through. It’s just more emotional torture added to the experience.

In exchange for all of this perceived care, you received from me acceptance, and excuses for all that you were. I accepted the things in your life, and the things about yourself, that were out of your control, beyond your power to change. I accepted those things about you over which you DID have control, and yet still would not change. I occasionally discussed with you what I thought about how your choices, and lack of choices, were affecting your health – spiritually, physically, and mentally… but I never thought of it as judgment, or a request for you to change… I accepted you, wholly. You were who you were, and that was more than ok… it was wonderful.

While you were going through your separation and eventual divorce, I dealt with your constant  criticism of my relationship with my husband, and your frequent oblique references to your ex, as if my husband was cut from the same cloth. I always told myself that your negativity towards R was because you were so hurt… I realize now that there were other issues you had with my happy relationship – one was jealousy… our relationship is significantly healthier than yours was, and I am happy with my husband. The other issue was one of ownership. Every time I mentioned a problem I had, your immediate response was to tell me to run to you, come live with you and be your only person… you never included my husband in your offers unless I brought him up. In your mind, I belong to you, and with you, and shouldn’t be happy anywhere else, with anyone else. When I look back on conversations where you talked about my husband, I feel very manipulated, emotionally. That is not something a friend would do. 

When you expressed an interest in my husband, I was open about it. I know what happens around you when you want things and have to be sneaky, and that is not what I wanted for any of us. When, to protect myself and my relationship with my husband, I laid your desires on the table, you were angry. Part of it is that you enjoy sneaky theft, but a larger part of it was your deep, abiding fear of rejection. Seduction works for you. Bluntness leaves you too open, too revealed. It terrifies you. 

Of course, you and your therapist decided I was a raping raper who pushed you towards things you swore afterwards that you didn’t ever say you wanted. You looked good from that angle… and I took the fall like a good dog. 

When I agreed to take a stronger roll in my own life and power, and in yours, I asked for one thing from both you and the Universe. I asked that I no longer carry the blame for those things that are beyond my control… and you failed to keep your oath.

I experienced something I did not understand, and I came to you for help. You laughed at me, and then you told me that what I’d done (even though it was something beyond my control) was stupid, and that it was going to cause you harm, and that maybe next time I found myself in such a predicament, I should take a moment to think about the larger picture, and all the facts, before I do something like that again.

In other words… you blamed me, and you chastised me. 

You seem to think you gave me information I was unhappy to learn. I was glad to learn what my power had done. I was happy to understand. What pissed me off was your attack of things I had no control over, your blame of me. It’s like yelling at cats for having hairballs or shedding. They have fur – to expect them not to have trouble with their fur from time to time is irrational, and to hold them accountable for their troubles is unreasonable and cruel. 

When I found myself in a situation where I was doing things, but didn’t know what was happening, or even WHY, and I came to you for help – you lorded your superiority over me, and told me, once again, that I think I’m just SO smart that I can do anything I want, because I’ll always find a way out of it. Except that you know that’s not true, and that’s not how I think. This is not the first time we’ve had this EXACT discussion… or even the 90th.

The truth is there are moments in my life where I am fully aware of everything going on around me, yet I am not the one in the driver seat… It appears to everyone else that I am in complete control of what is happening, and yet THAT’S NOT ACTUALLY ME. I move, speak, change the world, and everyone sees my face, my mind, my hands; everyone hears my voice. It’s still not me. I do agree that I’m fully conscious in those moments, where time and the multiverse seem to take a breath, before a sudden wave of power and will changes everything completely… and the epicenter is absolutely me, but I am still not the architect – and saying that I am is like saying I’m to blame for the sun rising.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I say this to you – you refuse to understand it. No matter how many times I tell you, “I wasn’t thinking anything at all – there wasn’t an opportunity for me to think, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t do this,’ or ‘Wow, the ramifications of this action make it inadvisable…'” – you STILL insist that because I was there, and the action happened through me, that somehow I could have stopped it, could have changed it… and that next time this happens, I should take control and make it NOT happen.

All this, while also telling me that one of my biggest issues is that I try to control everything (though of course anyone who consistently has their life turned upside down by a puppet master universe would OF COURSE have control issues) and that I should stop “insisting that the system behave the way I want it to,” WHILE you’re simultaneously telling me I should have more control over myself.

The final straw, I think, was that when I asked, you, no… BEGGED YOU to PLEASE attempt to see what was happening to me from my perspective so that you would understand why blaming me for this type of shit is so hurtful, ESPECIALLY COMING FROM SOMEONE LIKE YOU WHO HAS BEEN THERE, TOO… 

When I said to you that you do not seem to understand when I tell you with words, or when I write it down, or when you see it happen to me, but that you seem to ONLY learn by doing, so would you please ALLOW a flow of information to SHOW YOU, BY YOU DOING IT YOURSELF, and you told me I was asking you to be raped – more than that, you told the world that I WANTED you to be raped, that I insisted on it… despite the fact that both of us have been in situations where we were not in control of what happened to our bodies, and neither of us would EVER wish that on ANYONE, EVER… that accusation was just it for me. 

The moment you said that you were not interested in experiencing my world for yourself, I said, OK. I stopped asking you for what I needed, and tried, ONCE AGAIN, to explain IN WORDS what I go through, and you called it a lecture, and then you threatened me – and then you followed that with some incredibly passive-aggressive bullshit.

That was the moment I realized how toxic you are.

I find it interesting that when I won’t do my job, I’m a horrible person, and when I do my job, I’m to blame for the things that happen through me. You call what I asked you to try and experience “Rape.” This essentially means, when you asked me to take back my power, you were asking me to accept rape… and now you’re blaming me for the results… and telling me I’m a rapist because I asked you to attempt to view things from my perspective. What I hear you saying is that it’s ok for me to be raped, and for you to blame me, but it’s not ok for you to emotionally, spiritually, or mentally support me while I endure what you have asked me to endure.

All the gifts in the world don’t make up for you calling me a rapist because I asked you for understanding – asked you for something EVERYONE NEEDS. All the food in the world would not make up for you being ok with me experiencing what you consider to be rape, and also being ok with blaming me for the results. All the pretty dresses, all the plush toys, all the blankets in the world, don’t make up for you greedily telling me that I don’t get to die on my own schedule, but yours. All the visits to organize my medical care, all the offers to pay for various therapies, don’t make up for you lying to me about so many things, and then blaming me for not knowing anything. 22 years of friendship doesn’t make up for you continuing to blame me for shit I cannot help, while doing your damnedest to remain as pure as the driven snow.

That’s about as pure as the shoveled shit. You have betrayed me, abandoned me – every time I have become homeless it has been because of you and your choices. Every time I’ve moved across country, except for the very last, it has been to suit your desires – to either have me, or to throw me away because you found something better for a little while – and the one time I have moved by choice, and for my own reasons – the one time I’ve managed to maintain a stable life for an extended period – when you finally realized what you had chosen over me wasn’t going to work for you anymore, you began trying to emotionally blackmail me into changing my decision.

Do not reply to this post. Do not call me. Do not email me. Do not send me another single thing in an attempt to make yourself feel less guilty for who and what you are, and all the betrayals you have heaped on me over the years. I do not want you – in my life, in my power, in my future – we are not family, we are not friends… and I don’t care enough to even want to be enemies – because you’re not even worth THAT kind of energy.

I have forgiven you, accepted you, loved you… and you have lied to me, accused me, blamed me, betrayed me… and all of this, for the last time. I’m done with you.

 I’ve blocked your phone number and your emails. We’re done. I got help and removed my power from your family line, untwisted our fate, and separated our godhead. We are now two, on two separate paths. I have paid you what I owe, and washed my hands of all of it. 

Thank the gods we’re over. That was the silliest 20,000 years of my life. 

I Find My Lack of Progress Disturbing…

Wednesday

GM

KKK I missed you so much!!!!

*hughughug*

Ok shall not squish you. *backs away*

ME

Lol

GM

You all right???

ME

I don’t really know… I usually tell people I’m getting there, or that I’m doing better… but mostly I’m just bleh anymore.

GM

*hugs* that’s a usual feeling to feel during recovery. You sort of hit a plateau of ‘blehness’. But that’s still an improvement from the horrible low parts of before.

Take it slowly ok? Don’t feel the need to appear OK just to please people.

ME

Don’t worry. I’m being careful.

GM

Good

ME

I have a good therapist.

GM

Oh that’s great

ME

Yeah… she’s been wonderful.

GM

I’m glad, I really am. You deserve good doctors.

ME

Yeah… it’s about time, huh. Lol

GM

Pretty much.

You’re not doing anything metaphysically right? Hope youve just been recuperating

ME

No… I’ve not done anything magickal since last year.

GM

That’s good, you’re focusing on recovering

Ah what am I saying? I’m just so happy to ‘see’ you again.

ME

It’s nice to be back.

GM

I’d like to think i’ve ‘grown’ in these few months. Lol.

ME

That’s good to hear. I’m not sure if I’ve grown… I think that I’ve changed so drastically, growth is the wrong concept.

GM

Well change isn’t a bad thing.

It just… is.

ME

Exactly.

GM

Changed how so?

ME

I’m not sure yet… I just know I’m not who I was anymore. I’m someone else, and I’m still trying to get to know the new me.

GM

Ok.

I’m not sure if what I’ve had to do lately has changed me.

ME

I didn’t realize I was someone else until the middle of summer, 15 months later.

GM

*nod*

That can happen.

ME

Yup. Lol Color me clueless.

Today

DR

Welcome back…I was wondering if I’d see you here again

ME

I needed some time..

DR

Nothing wrong with that…we all need to step away from time to time to work things out…it’s good to see you…pixelly speaking

ME

Good to see you again, too.

DR

How are you?

ME

Well, honestly I’ve spent the last 20 months trying to recover from a medical issue… I haven’t done anything more important than breathe.

DR

Don’t undervalue the importance of breathing, both literally and metaphorically…if you feel like talking about it in always a good listener, if not, it’s good to know that you’re still around

ME

I wrote a little on my blog… but I’m mostly trying to put it all behind me. I’m such a drastically different person from the Me that went through all of that… that old me died and now I’ve got to figure out who this person is that I rose from those ashes as.

It’s hard… like being a kid all over again… a lot of the time I feel very lost. At least my reactivity is getting better.

DR

I apologise, I am blogless and out of touch…but either way, kudos to you…it takes a lot to be able to reassess ones life

ME

I didn’t really have a choice… I was in so much physical pain that there were moments I was willing to die to make it stop… being tortured chronically by your own body, with no hope of relief or escape… well, I just had to confront things I believed about myself that just weren’t true, and I had to accept that, and adjust to what was real… I guess I kinda broke, and there was no putting the pieces back together the old way… I had to become someone new just to survive the experiences.

DR

Ah…metamorphosis…that is a concept I actually know quite a bit about

ME

*nods* I know. That’s why I can say these things to you and not worry about your reactions. It’s hard enough to talk about at all without having to comfort your audience.

DR

I’ve always found comfort to be…well, comforting…but not all that constructive…it seems to focus too much on the problem, where as the solution/s are where our attention should really lay…which probably explains why no one ever comes to m for comfort

ME

*nods* honestly, I’m not a very comforting person anymore… my best is to avoid discussion of things that make people feel uncomfortable unless they REALLY need to hear it… but this is more that people feel pity and a weird kind of helpless handwringing over my experiences, which is useless to me and creepy, too. So I just tell people what they want to hear… I tell them I’m getting better, when really, there’s nothing for me to go back to and GET better… there’s just pushing forward towards a new normal that hopefully resembles some kind of functionality and purposeful forward movement… but I’m nowhere near that yet… I seem to be in that stage where you’re not an emotional or mental basket case anymore, but you’re not out-monstering the monster yet, either. A plateau.

DR

Never understood pity, it’s one of those useless emotions that does nothing but belittle the recipient, and expose the ignorance of the giver…

And to be honest, there is something comforting (yes I see the irony in using the word) about building from scratch and starting over.. it means you can pour a brand new, stronger foundation from the last…or, to avoid metaphors, the experiences make you stronger and more able to handle what comes next

ME

Yes to both points. I don’t want pity… I’m alive and that counts for something. And I learned things about myself that have made me a deeper human being. More rooted in the truth of what pain lays bare. That definitely makes me stronger than someone who has never experienced anything that pushes you to the brink, let alone into the abyss. I know things now… I survived.

DR

How are your closest friends and family taking it all…generally speaking

ME

After everything happened I really shut down a lot. So I don’t really have any close friends anymore. I just… they didn’t understand and I couldn’t cope with the baggage of trying to protect them when I needed to be protecting myself… and… my family doesn’t seem to have noticed. I don’t talk to them about it. My husband is the only one who sees how much of a mess I still am… but even there… we don’t talk about it… he just gets shit done and lets me muddle along behind him.

DR

Is that the best course…to muddle behind? I understand the need to “get shit done” I’m of the same mind…but one also needs to communicate…otherwise problems stay problems

ME

There’s not really anything much to talk about. I mean we do talk, when there’s issues… but my recovery isn’t something we talk about, or what happened, either… because talking about that doesn’t fix anything.

DR

Not even as a “comfort”?

ME

It doesn’t comfort me to talk about it. It upsets and depresses me. I know that’s a sign that I really NEED to talk about it… but I just can’t. It’s easier to just not think about it, not feel, just move forward…. well, except that I’m not.

It happened. No one knows why. There’s no fix for the fact that it happened… and since there’s no why, there’s no way to prevent it from happening again, and I can’t face that… so we just ignore the elephant.

DR

Good then…focus on what you do have control over…Everything else will either happen, or not, in its own time

ME

Exactly. At least that way, I don’t have to think about how terrified I am, which always leads to panic attacks and migraines… which lead to more fear… best to not start the cycle. That way lies dragons. I wonder, though, if I’ll ever get over the trauma enough to stop being so afraid. Therapy hasn’t really gotten me too far… I’m able to ignore the issue, but that’s about it.

DR

I don’t know how helpful my advice will be…but when I find I’m afraid of something I go at it head on…it’s like poking a wound…it’s hurts at first, but eventually you get numb to it…and eventually it just stops hurting…i know, it sounds cliché…but I never feel so alive as when I’m afraid

ME

My fear is of pain, physical pain, of being trapped in a place where that is my only experiential reality and as I burn and writhe under the pulsing waves of my own body betraying me, I know there is only one way out. My fear is of pain so great that rational thought becomes impossible and I am not Kat anymore. I am just an animal, with one need…. to make it stoo, and I don’t care how. I’m not afraid of garden variety physical pain anymore , or even emotional shit… and I’m not sure how to face that and become numb to it, because in that moment, there’s no me to face anything… and trust me… there’s no numbing it out. It’s the only thing that’s real. I didn’t feel alive, I felt agony, and I wanted it to stop more than I wanted to breathe.

The Biggest Relationship Mistakes I’ve Made

In learning to love, and learning about love, most of us go through a series of disastrous relationships – sometimes the fallout can be blamed on our chosen partner, but most often, everyone in the relationship is equally complicit. However, it sometimes takes a long time for people to learn how their own mistakes affected their failed relationships, simply because many of us blame the other party as being fully guilty, and never look at it beyond that.

I’ll admit that in the past, I have not exactly dated stellar material, but that doesn’t change that the biggest mistakes I made were never choosing a bad partner, but actually how I reacted IN the relationship itself.

Mistake Number One – Don’t Try To Fix What Isn’t Broken – OR – Love the One You’re With.

If you’re dating someone because of the potential you see in them, you’re not actually dating THEM… you’re dating some illusory dream of who they COULD be, if only they TRIED, if only they would listen to you, if only they believed in this imaginary dream of themselves as much as you do, and would WORK at it.

If you’re dating someone in trying to rescue them from their past mistakes, or their present ones, you might consider that those “mistakes,” those choices and their consequences and the learning experiences that helped them to grow on their path to this point – led them directly to you. In other words, if they had changed one single thing, it’s possible they’d never have met you, or if they had, neither of you would have been interested, and this relationship wouldn’t exist.

If you’re trying to save someone from themselves, that means you don’t fully appreciate who they are now, or all the hard work it took for them to get to you. You don’t love them, you love who you want them to be. Either you appreciate someone because of who they are, and that’s why you’re with them, or you believe the dream, and dreams belong in another world – they seldom happen in this one… dating a dream will never live up to reality – eventually you’ll resent them or even hate them for not becoming that perfect vision you have of them.

Mistake Number Two – Don’t Try To Be Someone You’re Not

We’ve all done it – tried to figure out why someone loves us, tried to figure out what they need, WHO they need (because it surely isn’t us – they must be insane to want US!), tried to understand exactly what their version of a perfect partner is, and become it, instead of being ourselves.

The truth is, if they’re with you, hopefully, they’re with you because they love who you are, not some idealized version of you, and not some perfect dream that you could never become. If someone chooses to be with you and you try to become something you’re not to please them, you end up being resentful of all their supposed demands, you feel suppressed because you can’t be yourself in the relationship, and they end up confused because they don’t know who you are anymore… and many times, since it was actually YOU they got involved with, and you aren’t you anymore, they leave. It’s really just best from the very start to be yourself – that way, you’re happy, and they know what they’re getting up front, so they’re more likely to be happy, too.

Both these classic mistakes are based on acceptance issues… the first one is the inability to accept another person for who and what they are, and where they’re at in their life – which is obviously not about love. If you want to change someone you’re with, you don’t really love THEM, just your version of them, which is never fair to anyone because most likely, that version only exists in your mind, and quite probably, if they wanted to change into that person, they’d have done it before they met you, and certainly they’d have done it for themselves, without your help. People never change for other people – they only change when they’re ready to do so, and because they want to. In other words… mostly they don’t… so it’s best to love the one you’re with.

The second issue is self-acceptance. The idea that no one could accept you for all you are, warts and pluses – or the idea that you don’t HAVE any pluses – is a personal insecurity, and needs to be rooted out before any relationship will succeed. If you don’t believe anyone could appreciate you, you’ll find a way to make them prove you right, eventually, and that’s just not a healthy outlook on life. Obviously if they’re with you, they DO see something in you that they like – and whether the relationship lasts or not, that should be encouraging to you. If you haven’t figured out what others see in you, you probably should stop dating for awhile and go find yourself – because only when you truly love you, believe yourself worthy, will you be able to accept the love of someone else as being real and possible. Until then, you’ll be so damned afraid of rejection and disapproval, you’ll try to be anyone but yourself – and you’ll never trust anyone you’re with as long as you do that, because you’ll know, deep down, that they’re not really with YOU… and in the end, it won’t matter to you that that’s your fault… them leaving will just confirm your beliefs about your own unworthiness… it’s a vicious cycle.

 

Thankfully, I finally grew out of either form of foolishness… When I met my husband, I loved him for who he was, and never even considered who he COULD be… and I didn’t try to be anything I’m not. We have been together for five years, and married for over two, and while there are things he does that bother me, and there are things I do that bother him, while we talk it out with each other, we generally don’t change much – because we’re comfortable with each other and ourselves, just the way we are. I’ve never been happier in a relationship, or felt safer and more appreciated – and he’s never felt more accepted… and that’s the way we like it.

Here’s to your relationship health. 😀

 

So… out of curiosity… what are some of your own relationship mistakes?

LHP – Knights in Shining Armor and Damsels in Distress Need Not Apply

The LHP values free will and the right to choose above all else. The LHP doesn’t even judge choices as bad or healthy, positive or negative, black or white, good or evil. LHPers will judge a choice as bad for them, but they would NEVER tell someone else that their choices were not valid. EVER.

The idea that someone’s choices might be bad, that they need to be rescued from those choices, would never enter their minds… because the right to choose your own path is sacrosanct to them.

I don’t butcher goats or chickens for any reason – I don’t know how, and I’ve heard it’s a messy job. That doesn’t mean I judge those who do it for religious, magickal and ritual purposes. It’s not my business.

I don’t have any plans to join a black arts group… it doesn’t interest me… that doesn’t mean I judge someone else who has chosen to do so – it’s not my business. I also don’t assume that someone who joins a black arts group is evil or wrong – I don’t think their choice is appealing to me, but that doesn’t make them a horrible person that needs help changing their minds and their lives.

Saving people is what RHPers do – most specifically, Christian RHPers. Telling people that they’ve made bad decisions is something that people like that do. Personally, I think that no decision, no choice, is bad – it’s simply a decision. It leads to experiences and consequences. Those consequences and experiences might be uncomfortable or challenging, disturbing and disruptive, but that doesn’t make the decisions that bring them about BAD – it doesn’t even make the consequences bad… just something you don’t really appreciate experiencing.

People make decisions. They live experiences and deal with consequences based on those decisions. AND THEY LEARN THINGS THEREBY.

To have that chance to learn from a choice taken away, to have their right to choose taken away, is something no LHP practitioner appreciates being done to them – which generally means we mostly don’t choose to do that to others… instead, we’re usually almost rabid about respecting their right to choose their own paths, and to learn and grow from the decisions they make in their own lives, even when those decisions are not ones that we would make for ourselves. Most of us might offer advice if it was asked of us, but beyond that, we DO NOT INTERFERE.

Which is not to say that we don’t appreciate the joke of helping consequences come home to roost… or that some of us are not above practicing will control over others… but we’re usually subtle people and we don’t try to rule our friends – only our enemies.

Knights in Shining Armor save people. It’s their professional modus operandi. That’s a Christian concept – and not a LHP practice. Knights in Shining Armor disempower people by telling them they’re wrong, they need to be fixed, they need to be saved, and that a Knight is the only one that can save them.

Damsels in Distress are professional victims. Their experiences are always a result of someone else’s choices, not their own. They don’t own their own issues – the princess in the tower was put there by someone else… it would never occur to her to ask herself why she doesn’t rescue herself, why she’s instead waiting for someone else to save her from her situation.

LHP practitioners do not wait for someone to save them from their mistakes.. if they think they’re in a situation they don’t want to be in, if they feel they’ve made choices that aren’t working out, they rescue themselves. They fix their own problems and issues. They don’t need help, and they don’t want it, because they are empowered people, people who know that this is their life, and these are their choices, and it’s their responsibility to deal with the consequences. We save ourselves, thank you very much.

Knights in Shining Armor need not apply.

Creative Visualization, Portals, And Becoming The Magick

Part of the reason that we magickal people practice visualization to the point where we can see, feel, smell, touch, and taste our magick is that it allows us to give the energies we wield a greater depth, making our additions to reality more hefty, more likely to become the reality we seek.

But true visualization requires going a step further, in my mind, and eventually, several steps down the rabbit hole.

A rather famous exercise in visualization is called The Apple – where the practitioner creates an apple so completely that when they eat it, they actually feel full, they feel the moisture in their mouths, taste it, smell it, they can touch it – in essence, they actually create an apple from nothing.

But true magick is bendy.. requiring we practitioners to also be a little bendy… to take our visualizations a step further.

Say you have a spell that requires acasia. We all understand correspondences – they’re like short codes for magick… Blue is more than just blue, it’s air, or water, or healing, or peace… Water is more than just water, a rose is more than just rose… everything in existence is a symbol for everything else… an enormous web of information stored in symbol – sometimes literally, as in the case of runes, letters, ogham, and the many various other symbols used in magick… but all of those symbols and substances lead back to their root substance… Using acasia taps you into the ESSENCE of Acasia, because at its root, all acasia is Acasia… and acasia is used for purification, protection, wisdom, and visions… which means that the Essence of Acasia is those things… so you can use it in a spell to represent those things…

But I said we’d take it a step further… why stop your visualization at creating an apple? Why not create yourself? Why not BECOME acasia,and then follow acasia back to its roots, and become ALL Acasias, and from there, become the essence of purification, protection, wisdom and visions? Use acasia as a portal to all acasia everywhere, and from there to the roots of it, and from there, to the correspondence you desire, simply by becoming acasia and then diving inwards.

But it gets even more complex because all acasia is connected to all other acasia… so now it’s not just a portal to its own essence, and the ideas it is symbolic of.. it is also a portal to any place where acasia is.

You can do this with runes, with symbols, with colors, with plants, animals, stones – if it exists, it has a root, it has connections to all other things like itself and thus is a gateway, and it has connections to ideas. You can become everything, go anywhere… all by becoming the magick.

Added Notes:

This method means that you never need tools for your magic… you can just become the essences of whatever you need and layer them into the spell using raw energy – so if you’re short on supplies, cash, or working an emergency where all you’ve got is yourself, this is a good method to be well-versed in.

Also, because you truly understand the symbology behind whatever you’re using, when or if you choose to use tools, the magick is that much richer, because not only are you using the short codes subconsciously, the way most practitioners do, but you are truly one with those symbols and their deepest meanings – which gives you more bang for your buck, magickally speaking.

How It Happened… and What Comes After PTSD

It starts with a simple migraine – you remember me telling you about those migraines back in February of last year, those brutal migraines that left me screaming…

But I didn’t know this was anything more than an ordinary migraine.

I took my migraine meds, and I carried on with my day. I wrapped myself in darkness and I attempted to sleep it off.

It was only four hours later, when I was staggering from the living room to get more medication from the bedroom, vomiting from the agony that I realized that something was seriously wrong.

Whimpering when I couldn’t even pick myself up off the floor and had to have my husband help me dress, we drove to the emergency room in the middle of the night, I in my sunglasses with a thick jacket over my face, struggling not to scream whenever we came upon cars or traffic lights – we took the back roads as much as possible.

When we arrived at the hospital, I could barely leave the car, because the parking lot lights hit my skin like hammer blows. Photophobia is no joking matter. I clung to the bowl in my lap, and wrapped the coat around my face as my husband carefully guided me blindly though the doors of the emergency room. Every light we passed under made me cringe and scream, and crumple in pain. He had to hold me up. Somewhere along the way I lost the bowl of vomit all over the nice clean floors. I was beyond caring.

We sat in a dark room for a moment while we waited for them to take my vitals. I had a brief respite from the pain and I thought it was over… but suddenly, the pain came roaring back, ten times worse. It was as if the pressure had built up directly at the base of my skull and was attempting to lift my head off my neck by sheer force of pulse. My muscles burned, every nerve ending on fire. My feet kicked helplessly as I tried to push my own head off my neck. I don’t remember screaming, but apparently, I frightened the people in the outside waiting room quite badly.

They rushed me into a private, dark room with a bed… and when they had me calmer, and they’d given me something to stop me from throwing up that melted under my tongue and tasted like bananas, they tried to dope me up with opiates. The nurse chased me around the room, not knowing I was allergic… I remember the lights being turned on so she could give me the shot and me shouting at her as she asks me “Well, what happens when you take opiates?” “I start itching all over so badly I have panic attacks, and I think I’m high strung enough right now, don’t you?!” I shouted at her. I think I startled her into nearly laughing, but she left the room.

They put me on a very strong anti-inflamatory and a migraine medicine, but it takes a long time for the pain to go away… while we wait, I scream, the waves of pain encompassing my entire reality. There is nothing but me, my body, and the pain… and my longing for it to end. I entertain a variety of plans, from the waiting room all the way until the moment the pain begins to subside and my sanity begins to return in dribs and drabs, as to how I will find this end.

All my highminded ideals about suicide being a cop-out for anyone who’s not already terminal and who hasn’t sat down their loved ones and had a very calm and clear conversation with them all about it went out the window. I didn’t care about anything other than ending my pain… because all I WAS was pain. I didn’t even care that ending the pain would mean I was ended… I wasn’t capable of thinking that far ahead. I thought about ways I could trick the security guard into shooting me in the head. I looked at my husband and pleaded him with my eyes alone, hoping that he would kindly break my neck and end my suffering. Consequences? Who gave a damn – I was in pain, and he was my answer, my savior.

I wasn’t rational. I was an animal in a trap and I wanted OUT.

I broke. I broke myself. I broke my rules. I broke every promise I ever made about my life, my ethics, my loved ones… I broke my beliefs about myself… I broke under the lash of my pain and I gave up.

When I came up for air, I still didn’t quite understand what had happened… honestly, it didn’t really hit me for several months.

When they finally got me calmed down and stabilized, they sent me down to radiology to scan my head, even though I kept telling them, “This isn’t a normal migraine, and it’s starting in my NECK!”

The scans came back and the neurologist came into my very dark room to tell me I had the most beautiful grey matter he’d ever seen, such a lovely amount of wrinkles. I told him thank you very much, but could he do anything about the blue tunnel on the wall or the fact that my neck was hurting so bad that the pulse was making my head want to fall off? No one would listen to me about it not being a migraine.

Finally, the pain began to subside to a point that I could bare it like I could the migraines I’m used to dealing with every day, they sent me home – I guess since they couldn’t figure out what was wrong, all they could do was manage the symptoms and move me out.

I saw a giraffe on the side of the road in the trees on the way home.

Two days later, we got an ice storm. Thanks, neck… I appreciate your art of weather prediction by pain induction.

 

This experience was repeated three times in a two week period. When I remember the pain, my skin crawls. I remember it so clearly it’s as if I am reliving it. The very thought is enough to bring me to tears, and in fact, remembering these experiences is enough to trigger a migraine.

Three months after these three experiences, I started dreaming about walking out into traffic. I couldn’t cope with the disconnect. I couldn’t cope with the fact that I had given up under the lash of the pain, and I couldn’t cope with the fear that the pain would come back… it was even worse because no one can tell me WHY I had those three such severe migraines, screaming migraines… and I was still having migraines, though admittedly not nearly as severe…

I now had an anxiety disorder. I had PTSD, and generalized anxiety. I couldn’t cope with what I’d gone through… so… My subconscious started offering me relief.

When I was six years old, I was hit by a car and I died. It was quick… it was painless. It was just… suddenly dark. I never even saw the car that hit me. There was just sudden peace. Dying was easy.

My subconscious is not eager to admit that at 36, we have 30 years of weight and growth, and that we are considerably more likely to damage a car than the other way around. However, it did alert me to the fact that I had a problem. I was trying, I thought, to escape the pain of my migraines, and I needed to see a better doctor and get some bloody answers, dammit!

So… I went to the emergency room again, hoping that they would help.

They were… not really so helpful as all that.

They decided I was suicidal.

Well, I suppose I was… the problem is that I’m not. I couldn’t ever be truly suicidal because I’m too damned intelligent to be suicidal, and I know the odds… I’d never risk suicide because WHAT IF I FAILED?

There’s a whole host of nasty side effects I wouldn’t want to suffer… which is why I was dreaming of it, rather than actually doing it. I’m too apathetic to ever ACTUALLY commit suicide. Plus… as I stated earlier… I’m too ethical to do that. I believe suicide is something that you should only do if you are already terminal and you have planned it with your loved ones in the loop. It’s just common courtesy. Everyone has the right to die… no one has the right to harm others in the doing of it.

However, I do NOW understand, having had the shoe on the OTHER foot, that there are extenuating circumstances where mental, physical, or emotional pain may be so great that one should be granted mercy, irregardless of the harm it might cause others, because of the great harm it is causing oneself. HOWEVER – that should only be the case where there are no other options and there is no solution. If you are not rational, you are not capable of making that decision for yourself, and therefore YOU should not be the one to decide that suicide is an acceptable solution for yourself. I should know… I was there. I was not rational. It was not in my best interests. I’m doing better now… and I would have missed getting better had I been granted mercy.

It turns out that all I needed was glasses, by the way. Go figure.

Anyway, I digress.

In the emergency room, I explained about the dreams, and said, “Look, I’m in enough pain that my subconscious is now attempting to give me options to escape the pain. This means that I need some help to deal with the pain, and I need a diagnosis as to why I’m in this much pain in the first place. I need a neurologist.”

What they heard was, “I’m having dreams about suicide.”

What they did was lock me up  in a psych ward for 8 days.

I rode an ambulance in the middle of the night under armed guard to a city three hours away. I was forced to ride two elevators, of which I am phobic, which raised my heart rate to over 177. I STANK of fear and bolted out of the second elevator only to huddle in the hallway like a rabbit in the grass. It was humiliating.

When I arrived on the ward, the nurses, assuming I was your typical suicide case, attempted to strip me of my clothes and wanted to examine every inch of my skin. I had to sit them down and explain to them why I was really there, and that I wasn’t going to be combative, but that there had been a misunderstanding over a headache and I was NOT going to strip for them like I was in jail because I had already been traumatized enough. By this time I was in tears and was nearly hysterical because the incident with the nurses had hit a trigger with me.

I didn’t see a neurologist for six days.

Instead I spent a week without pain management. I had another screaming migraine.

I had dreams where my teeth were falling out because I was in so much pain that I was grinding my teeth in my sleep. Because I was in so much pain I couldn’t sleep, I asked them for something to put between my teeth, a mouth-guard or something. They didn’t have anything like that there. “Fine, go up to the NICU and get me a pacifier. This is a hospital. You DO have THOSE. I have to put something between my teeth because my teeth are killing me from all the grinding.” They told my husband I was psychotic, reverting to childish behavior.

He didn’t sleep for a week, barely ate, and cried every day. When I saw him, he was a bigger mess than I was.

About the only thing that staying in the psych ward DID achieve is that I’m now receiving therapy and I’m on a medication for the anxiety disorder that THEY gave me.

I don’t just have PTSD… I’m PISSED that I have PTSD.

I lie… I alternate between feeling sorry for myself and crying in incredible sympathy for all the pain I experienced, trying to understand WHY all this happened and how to never have it happen again, and being so angry I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know what to throw at whom. I feel helpless and hopeless and angry and compassionate all at once.

Every weekday I get up thinking, today, I’ll go to work. Today will be different.

Every day I sit down at my computer and I realize, today’s no different than yesterday… I can’t deal with other people’s problems because I can’t dig my way out of my own.

Some days, I actually CAN, though. Some days, it actually helps to bury yourself in someone else’s aura and forget your own trauma…

But today…

Today I had to write all of this out.

I had to tell the whole story.

I had to begin from the beginning…

To remember it all.

Admittedly, I haven’t even begun to talk about the side-effects that the screaming migraines and the mismanaged care have caused… the nerve damage and the fact that I can’t wash my hair on my own because I can’t lift my arms for very long anymore, or the fact that whenever I have migraines I lose control of my bladder now, or a whole host of other unpleasant facts of my new life… but those came after PTSD… those came after I got out of the hospital. They came with not being able to log on to the bank’s website without finding myself curled up between the couch and the coffee table rocking myself and crying because I entered the password wrong and it wouldn’t let me in. Those came with standing in the kitchen and the sudden blackouts, or the fear of the shower because I’m afraid the nurses will ask me to strip again. Everything after PTSD is different. Everything after PTSD is overwhelming. A grocery trip has to be managed after midnight, with medication, a protein bar and a bottle of water, and your favorite stuffed toy in a death grip. Any new experience has to be carefully scripted with people you know holding your hands and a quick escape route available at all times. After PTSD, patterns are everything. Spontaneity is a bad word.

After PTSD… everything is different.

But I’m learning how to put myself back together. And someday…

Someday I will be whole again.

Someday I will be me again.

Someday… I will be able to live like I never thought I’d want to die again.

Thoughts on Victim Type PTSD

“Why does PTSD happen?”

PTSD Happens when an experience is blocked, instead of finished. To avoid PTSD, a traumatic experience must be finished, fully experienced. When you stop in the middle, there is no resolution, no understanding in the subconscious or the conscious. There is only a disconnect.

“So I have PSTD because I didn’t finish my experience. The doctors stopped me from fully experiencing and resolving my emotions on my own.”

Yes. If you had been able to fully go through your own experience, instead of them layering more trauma in an attempt to prevent you from experiencing trauma and blocking the original trauma, you would not have PTSD.

“So what do I do now?”

You must face your trauma. You must go through it again and again, until you have resolution and understanding of the full picture. Shall we begin?

If Today Was Your Last Day

I’ve been thinking a lot about the song by Nickelback “If Today Was Your Last Day,” and I’ve realized something… there’s a lot going on in my life that isn’t working for me.

I don’t want to fight anymore. My biosister isn’t worth the effort… and the hallmark moment isn’t ever going to happen, so it’s not even worth the therapy for the makeup moment, either.

I don’t want to bother with the silly stuff. There’s a lot of petty mimicry going on out there, and I’m finding it amusing, instead of annoying. At first it was just exhausting… oh, yay, someone else trying to pick a fight… but now it’s not even that. It’s just funny. I’m just standing here, waiting for them to crash their waves upon the rocks… because I don’t care… today’s my last day. Every day is my last day.

My nervous system is shot… I don’t have migraines anymore – the medication is working, and apparently a new set of glasses fixes a lot of problems, but the damage that all the migraines did while I had them to my entire body is done… I have trouble remembering anything that’s not written down, multiple places. I’m weak as a kitten, I’m tired all the time, I have a host of other issues, I have muscles and nerves and sphincters that don’t work, I’m a wreck… and I keep smiling, keep on trucking, because today’s my last day, and I want it to be a good one.

So much is just not worth my attention anymore… something doesn’t come in my order – is it worth even contacting the company and sorting it out, or do I have better things to do? I have better things to do. I have only so much time. I have people to see, things to do… today’s my last day, and I don’t want to spend it with customer service.

Today’s my last day, this is my last Christmas… I don’t want to spend it fighting with my biosis… I want to spend it watching my nephews unwrapping their dinosaurs and watching them push the buttons that make the paws raise up and the dinosaurs walk towards each other going “RAWR!” because I want to see their faces when it happens… on the scale of one to awesome, those faces matter, and my biosister’s manipulative egocentric bullcrap doesn’t.

It’s rather shocking. If she died tomorrow, the only thing that would bother me is that I knew her. I’d be relieved her kids would probably grow up to be better children because they’d have the chance to grow up with a better mom without her… but I wouldn’t actually feel bad, or sad, or mad, or glad that she was gone… I’d honestly feel nothing at all.

That’s the saddest thing of all. When you’ve become so disconnected from someone you’re related to that you can actually say, with absolute truthfulness, that you don’t care, and mean it.

Today is my last day, every day is my last day… and I don’t care if she is in it.

But I want to see her kids open their dinosaurs, so I put up with her. She comes with the package.

If today is my last day, I want to go visit my sister May one last time. She matters.

I want to feel the silence at dawn over the standing stones at Stonehenge before they build that freaking highway tunnel under it and ruin the power of it forever. I’ve not been to England, for all I’ve crossed the world five times… you’d think I’d found time in all the hopping I’ve done. I want to make time. If today is my last day, I want to see the world, not spend it sitting at a desk. I want to live.

Speaking of sitting at a desk… expect some changes at the beginning of the year. I’ve realized… I don’t want to sell my Craft… I want to teach you all how to do what I do. I want to offer more interactive services, and be more involved with the community, more hands-on. I still love conjuring, but I love teaching and talking far more. It’s not like I haven’t been teaching this whole time… but…

I think it’s time to really take it to the next level. Not just a 101 class, not just snippets on a forum, but really intensive Skype sessions and serious tutelage and stuff for people who really mean to take their practice to the next level.

I’m tired of everything that’s not working for me. I’m tired of doing the things that don’t make me happy. I’m done with doing the things that I think I should, or because other people tell me to. Today is my last day doing anything for any reason other than because today is my last day.

I’m going to live it up like today is my last day… and I’m going to do it right. Right for you… right for me. The way I should have done it all along.

From now on, all the magick will be from Teacher Kat. All the Healing will be from Teacher Kat… and you’ll do it yourselves, and be proud of it.

That way… I’ll still love you in the morning.

Cellular Possession – A Shamanic Perspective on the Exorcism of Inanimate Objects

Matt: My phone is possessed. Do you know how to do an exorcism on electronics?
It’s started selecting things and zooming and moving things.

Me: It’s called a hard reset… it requires copious amounts of swearing by several gods of technology, and the use of various blessings of copper, zinc, quartz, and the like… you have to ask the spirits of the base particles of the phone to rise up and heal themselves, throw off the evil spirit and choose to be free…
If the phone is willing, and you work really hard, you can exorcise it like any other body…
But it’s kind of a bitch… phones seem to generally like being possessed… they seem to think it’s funny.
I think last time this happened to May, she just gave in and bought a new one. Also… how is it that out of everyone there, you’re the only one that managed to be the person that thing followed home??? Tch Tch… bad shaman… no donuts.

Matt: I’m mostly joking. It’s been doing this since before this weekend. I could try exorcising it, I guess… which gods do you call on?

Me: Probably the hardware gods all computer geeks swear by… I think phones fall under their purview… Gates, Jobs, etc?

Matt: Bill Gates?

Me: Well, yeah…
I don’t really know… maybe Samsung, Apple, “By the Power of BlackBerry, I Free You of This Evil…”
It’s like finding a parking spot at the Mall… you call on the Goddess Asphaltina..
Seriously… it really works… magick is weird and bendy… but you knew that already… however, really, your problem sounds more software than possession… I suspect that a real hard reset or a visit to your local store to talk to the professionals might be better than talking to me…

Matt: *snip* So put a bunch of pennies that I’ve cleansed with lemon oil and some anti static spray, and quartz, and pray to google and linux to cast out the evil from my phone and let it be cleansed of all adverse energies?
It’s something in the screen. The phone’s always been quirky and it would do this if I wasn’t totally grounded and was running a bunch of energy, but this is ridiculous.

Me: Pretty much. And ask your phone to get involved. No sense in doing an exorcism where the person who is possessed doesn’t work to get rid of the offending entity, you know.

Matt: It started flashing green when I cast out things.
It’s still twitching a little, but the phone did some twitching under my fingers as I was casting it out. We’ll see how it goes.
On a related note, I’m going to start keeping rolls of new pennies on hand. They always seem to come in handy for spells but I get tired of cleansing them.

Me: Encourage the phone to work with you… remember that I told Joan that she had to fight for herself, WITH us.
Copper is better… pennies have other stuff in them. Nickel and stuff.

Matt: I did encourage it. I felt it doing things, green sparkly energy was getting thrown off. It’s working fine now. I pulled whatever off the screen and fed it to fire.
Well, mostly fine. If it starts typing words I’m gonna freak out a little.

Me: Remember that a phone has copper and crystals and stuff made from plant and animal byproducts… plus it has a brain and a memory… so it has a spirit. It just might start talking and actually BE talking.

Matt: Earlier it was just mashing letters, no speech. I should really head to bed. I don’t think my eggless brownies turned out. 😦 The sorbet was a success at least.

Me: Sorry about the brownies. Sleep well. No more midnight baking/exorcisms for you. Sleep is important. 😛
Be nice to your new phone friend. Be gentle to it for a few days… it’s had a rough time. Possession is no fun.
Grats on the sorbet. Dream well.

THE NEXT DAY

Matt’s Phone: Also I’m glad you weren’t here for the chocolate sorbet. I would’ve fought to the death for the dasher. So put a bunch of pennies that I cleanse with lemon oil and some anti static spray, and quartz and pray to google and linux to cast out the evil from my phone and let it be cleansed of all adverse energies?

Me: you said that yesterday.

Matt: Weird… I wasn’t even on the texting screen and it sent that.

Me: Told you that your phone would start talking. 😛

New Moon Brings New Beginnings – Wholeness

So, today, I got another storm migraine.

As I was lying down for another nap (read drug induced coma), I suddenly had a vision of Simon. I could see myself reaching out to touch him. I had memories of us laughing, in love. Making love.

I had the memory of moving through the unmaking whirlpool of uncontrollable chaotic destruction surrounding him to touch him, to unravel him. Yes, he’d lost that much control, fallen that deep into madness… he was like a wandering black hole out among the multiverses. Only bigger. A black multiverse.

But I had a thought. I was in two places at once.

I had all these lifetimes of experience of unweaving sickness, of stripping away disease to bare the good, healthy thoughts beneath, so that they could grow and bloom. Why not, in that moment, reach down through the ages, merge with my old self, and give her the understanding I have now… show her how not to unweave ALL of Simon, but how to RENAME him. How unweave only the sickness, the madness, the uncontrolled chaos…

How to create Simon David?

So that’s what I did.

I merged with myself in that moment, and showed her what to do… and that’s what we did. We unraveled the parts of Simon that were unsalvageable… we unraveled the storm…. But we SAVED OURSELVES.

And then I passed out.

I dreamed. Simon David was in Hell. In prison. He knew it. He knew I was watching him. He saw others in prison. A child who didn’t belong. A group of people. He made a choice. They didn’t belong. He broke the rules. Bent them really. Only slightly. Just enough.

We watched. We allowed the bending – to see what he would do.

He saved the people, and got them out of their hell so that they could move on.

Simon David was a changed man. We approved.

I woke up. I thought about it. “Quit thinking about it. You don’t belong there either… and if you’re going to let him go, and not go, pretty soon he’ll be too far ahead for you to catch, and then you’ll never fix that hole.”

Damn… Time to let go of some things.

I trance down. I see where I’m at. I look at the rules. No flying. I flap my arms. I jump. Nothing. Damn. Can’t break the rules. But I have to. Have to catch up. Reach for my Twin. Reach down the line and CONNECT…

And suddenly I’m not where I was. Rule 1 broken.

“Well? Are you going to stop there? He’s 5 ahead of you NOW… RUN, GIRL… RUN!”

So I ran… flew, BULLETED through the layers… caught up to my Twin.. kept going, grabbed him and pulled… layer after layer, rule after rule… not paying attention anymore, just by instinct, because we are breaking out now…

It’s time to let GO.

Final door stops us…

The Gatekeeper stops us.

“Your last trial is the only one that ever mattered here. It is the only one that ever mattered anywhere. Merge and you may leave. Fail and you will never leave, no matter what you do.”

I’ve done this before, so it’s my boat to row. I take us down.

We fall into the cloudy, airy, white abyss, we let go of control, and we die the first death. We walk the abyssal plains of the dead, and we are buried, our second death. We rise from our graves, and we walk to the ocean, and we swim into the oceanic abyss. We confront our shadows. We flow into the abyssal lava, burn away our impurities, and meet our higher selves. We merge with our shadows, our egos, and our higher selves. I merge his shadow, his ego, and his higher self with myself. We come to the red lands, and walk to the edge of the black abyss. We cross into the void and shed all that is not who we truly are. We find the starlight singularity of Source, and walk into the light of rebirth. We emerge before each other, wholly ourselves… and we are still separate. I look at him and say, “I welcome you into me,” as he looks at me and says to me the same words. We walk to each other, and merge… and are one being.

I come out of trance and scan my energetic body. The hole is shrinking. I scan the threads, and notice that the ones that were covered by black threads before, the blackness hiding empty void underneath, now seem to be growing a matrix of song.

I’m not fully healed, but something has definitely begun to change.

I was also called a different name while I was down there… not Apple – something else. But I can’t remember what it was… which means it’s important enough that I’m not allowed to share it with you.

Happy New Moon, everyone… it’s a good day to begin to become whole after a few billion years, don’t you think? :)

I’m getting Flereous some cinnamon whiskey. He deserves it.

Unwitting Verbal Attacks – I’m Sorry

I get… enthusiastic when I’m discussing my point of view sometimes. People can misinterpret that as an attack.

I’m sorry.

I don’t know how to be less enthusiastic about things.

It’s a personality quirk. I’m opinionated. I love debates.

People think that sometimes debates with me are… heated exchanges.

I don’t see them that way.

I’m sorry.

I see those debates as fun. It’s exciting, thrilling… the bounce of ideas back and forth is hotter than the play of skin on skin… it’s better than sports, it’s better than sex.

No, I’m really not kidding. Not meaning to be raunchy, but it’s true…

It’s my hobby.

I’m sorry.

I don’t mean to be domineering.

I don’t mean to be argumentative.

I don’t mean to come off as combative.

I’m autistic.

I don’t think like you think.

My brain doesn’t work like yours works.

I don’t feel the way you feel things through.

I may be an empath, but when I’m hot on the tail of an idea, a fact, a trail on the informational highway that could be bumblebeed together into this amazing hybridized web inside my mind… I’m so caught up in the beauty, the passion… I forget to be human. I forget to be feeling… I forget to connect to you…

I’m pure mind.

I don’t mean to intimidate you.

I’m sorry.

So if I do… please… just stop me. Right there… just stop me and say so.

Just poke me and say… Hey… you, girl with your head in the nebula… remember me down here on earth?

Whoa Nellie! Put your autism back in its pocket, woman, you’re flashing! Here’s your social cue… moderate yourself a bit, for me please… slow down some… you’re dragging me overboard and I don’t like it.

I’m cool with that, you know. I don’t mind.

Actually, I kinda like it when people are blunt with me.

It lets me keep my friends.

We can be friends, right?

I’m sorry that I’ve scared some of you sometimes.
I love you.
Can I stay? :--

New Altar

GodAltar

Yesterday, Lord Flereous decided that He wanted my Deity altar to combine with His altar, so instead of having an altar that’s just dedicated to Flereous and Ashtaroth, I now have one that’s also dedicated to the Morrighan as Aine, Hades and Persephone, Karnanos, Re, Loki, Bast/Sekhmet (Her Elder Self is One Being), Amun the Hidden One, Hanuman, Ganesha, Minerva, and to the two Bodhisattvas, Kuan Yin and Buddha.

He chose the bookcase, so… it’s a bit… cluttered. I’m not sure how I’m going to do offerings now.

I guess I will stick to offerings of energy and tealights.

The tealight in front of Hades is a pomegranate tealight… that’s my stand in for Persephone. You’ll note that, as part of my shamanic path, most of my deities are represented by either their animals, or by candles. Flereous and Ashtaroth are candles over their sigils. Re and Loki are both highly symbolic – Re is a copper bowl, and the rune Kennaz, and Loki is a bunch of matches, a yoni, and a picture of a bloom on fire. The Hidden One is represented by bones of the body and bones of the earth. Ganesha and Hanuman and my Bodhisattvas are the only ones with actual statues of themselves… and those were gifts from a friend.

Yes, the Morrighan really is a Halloween prop. Shush. She likes it.

 

On the chakra front… I’ve had several people look at me now… they all agree… I look like one big blue and white chakra.

I’m also noticing that my headaches are decreasing in severity and frequency, though apparently tension and panic can still cause one.

The other thing I’m noticing is a STRONG uptick in my gifts… and also my control of them. More dreaming, more accuracy, more channeling, more being ridden. It’s turning out to be something I’m very pleased with.

Ashtaroth Correspondences

Flereous told me last night in a dream – woke me UP to tell me matter of fact – that I needed to create an altar to both Himself and Her. I’ve started work, but without more information on Her correspondences, I can’t do much for Her half of the altar.

 

Astaroth

I’ve been able to find a few of her correspondences, and her Enn –

Planet – Venus

Day – Friday

Sacred Animal – Horses

Enn – Tasa Alora Foren Astaroth

Courtesy of Akelta:
Rank: Duke
Zodiac: Capricorn
Dates: 1/1 – 1/10
Tarot: 3 of Pentacles
Planet: Venus
Metal: Copper
Element: Earth
Color: Green
Plant: Laurel
Incense: Sandalwood
Direction: West

Three February Migraines

I am afraid.

When the wealthy or the artistic cut off their hair, people call it art, or call it a protest. When normal people cut off their hair, people say nothing, think nothing of it – “I guess they just wanted a change of pace.” When I cut my hair, when a person who is different cuts their hair, it’s butchery – and everyone thinks of it as symbolic suicide.

Of course, for me, it was two-pronged. I cut off my hair because I wanted to cut off my head. I wanted to kill my pain. Cutting off my hair was a last-ditch effort to cure the pain in my neck. But deep down, I think it was probably a cry out for help. The fact that I had it professionally done just meant that I got away with it in public – no one noticed but my Sister, and she was polite enough, kind enough, to keep her thoughts to herself.

I am so afraid of the pain I experienced back in February that I would rather die that experience it again. I’m not suicidal, by any means, don’t get me wrong. I don’t even believe in suicide – in my perspective it’s pointless and cruel to everyone – you don’t die until you’re supposed to – only Death claims the dead, and I’ve seen too many fail, and so many people suffer, both the living who survive those who succeed, and the living who fail their attempts… it’s just not worth that much suffering to me. Not only that, but to be honest, I don’t actually want to die – I have a lot to live for, so I’m not seeking death… I just… fear that pain… but that fear is eating my life whole.

I remember those three trips to the ER back in February with a crystalline clarity that is horrifying. I remember my thoughts. I remember the pain itself, as if it were a living thing, still pounding away at the base of my skull, beating and breaking apart my neck with every pulse, breathing down my spine. It’s like a beast that hunts me… haunts me. It is the terror in the night, and I the mouse that huddles in the field, frozen while it, soft-winged, invisible, claws through my skull to break me.

It always starts with sparks. Black and white, tiny, shiny flashes, right before my eyes, and a glow around everything that’s lit. But after a while, it doesn’t matter whether there’s light or not. I could have my eyes closed, and a blanket over my head, and light will hammer at my body in physical blows, blocks of cement weighing me down and shoving me to the floor.

It begins to build, pressure beside my temples, behind my eyes, and above my nose, and always, always, at the base of my skull, in my shoulders, in my neck.

Lastly, it begins to pulse. With the pulsing in my neck, the screaming starts. Pulse, pain, pulse, pain, pulse, pain… until the world is nothing but the need for darkness… and death.

Three times, my husband half carried me to the car, bowl in hand, as I tried desperately not to vomit again and again from the pulsing pain in my head. It was as if my neck controlled my entire body, pulse by pulse, the back of my head beating me senseless.

By the time we reached the hospital, every light made me scream in pain, because it was like a weight that hit me, punched me, knocked me senseless. I could feel light through my clothing – my thighs rebelled, my skin said NO, my muscles denied the light and screamed.. twitched, RAN. I crumpled in the parking lot. I think the emergency crew carried me through the hallways into a hospital room. I don’t know, because the pressure of the lights from the parking lot hitting my body that night made me pass out for a moment.

I don’t remember much of the three times I went to the hospital, honestly – it‘s all broken up into pieces. I remember that the pain reached from my neck down to my feet in waves, that it would grab the soles of my feet and the spasms of my feet as I writhed were because I was attempting to escape my head, kick my own head off.

I remember turning to look at my husband in a moment when a wave had passed, to beg, knocked speechless, with only my eyes, for him to please, MAKE IT STOP, thinking that I would do ANYTHING, anything at all, if he would just end it, end ME, to make it stop.

I remember there were moments when I thought of ways I could escape the confines of the hospital room to find and trick some security guard into shooting me in the head, because that would end the pain finally and completely.

I remember being in enough pain that I wanted to die, not because I wanted to leave anyone behind, but because I just didn’t want to hurt anymore. I love, truly, utterly, and completely. But I am also truly, utterly, and completely terrified of that pain.

I don’t want to die… I want to LIVE. I want to know WHY THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME.

But I don’t want to deal with that pain ever, EVER again…

And no one knows what caused it, or why it happened… and no one knows if it will happen again.

Do you know that after 5 months, they still haven’t even done an MRI? I have mentioned to four Neurologists so far that I was hit by a car when I was 7, and STILL no MRI. I’m thinking I’m not the only one who was hit on the head as a child….

So they don’t know what causes my headaches… and so I keep getting them. I have them every day… and every day, I wonder if this one will be like one of those February Screamers. And so… I am afraid. Every second of every hour of every day…

I am afraid. And I’m ashamed because I am this afraid, that this is not in my control, and that I did not tell anyone.

The Consequences We Choose for Ourselves

I dreamed an interesting dream last night.

I was in Hell.. or one of them. There was a woman set to torture me with illusions. I figured out they were illusions, and I defeated them all. Then I was taken out, and asked by a voice, “Why are you here?”

I replied, “I deserve to be here. I killed Simon.”

The voice replied, “You are weak since the death of your twin.”

Then I woke up.

I got the feeling that the missing heart chakra is because of my missing twin… and that I don’t deserve to be there, that is my weakness, that I’m being silly. I don’t really deserve to be there. Don’t deserve to be treated like that, and I know it, or I would have accepted the treatment instead of finding out how to defeat the illusions, been so stubborn about not going with the program.

It’s the first time I’ve spoken my twin flame’s name since I unmade him all those millennia ago, to stop him from unmaking everything else.

Even to myself, I never say his name. Isn’t that odd? I didn’t even let myself know until this morning that his Name was Simon.

So… I guess that ritual really did set my feet on the path to healing that hole in my chest.

Even after the chakra removal, the hole is still there… but it’s much less painful now, and I’m clearly still working on it….. all the way back to conception. lol

Lord Flereous

WARNING – THIS IS ADVANCED HEALING WORK – IF YOU ARE NOT A MASTER HEALER, PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS WITHOUT SUPERVISION.

Ok, so last night, we had a ritual set up for us by Akelta for the Summer Solstice for Lord Flereous.

Here were the instructions:

Quote:
OK, from your end for the ritual. Take some time. Light a candle for yourself and prepare the altar. Right down on a piece of paper something you want to let go and release. WE will be working with Lord Flereous for this one. And once you have written it down, meditate and take a moment to connect to the fire energies. If you can bring up the emotions that you have around that. THe emotional attachments. The ritual is designed to burn them away and free you from them.Step one – Set up an altar for Flereous.

Step two – take some time and write down a piece of paper something that you’re ready to let go, release from your world… something that is holding you back.

Step three – sit in meditation and bring up emotions or things you have that attach you to what you have written down.

Step four – Meditate with thoughts and connect with Lord Flereous. Feel his energies and the power of the cleanse he offers.

Step five – Burn the paper and release it from you world.

Offerings: volcanic rocks, cinnamon, obsidian, oranges, flowers, passionate emotions.

Candles: Red, orange, yellow.

Flereous
Element: Fire
Enn: Ganic Tasa Fubin Flereous
Direction : South
Colour: Red, Orange
Month: June
Season: Summer
Ritual: Baptism, action, love, solstice.

The incense I made for him as an offering was: Jasmine, Rose, Cinnamon, Coffee, Bloodroot, and Bergamot Rose Oil.

What I chose to remove was: Fear. What am I really afraid of? My last panic attack was because I wasn’t perfect in someone else’s eyes. So my fear is not being perfect for other people. But that’s not measuring up. Why am I afraid of not measuring up to other people? Why do I need to measure up to them? Why am I afraid of that? I’m afraid of being rejected. Why am I afraid of being rejected? I’m afraid of not being loved. Of not being loveable. I need to let go of the idea that I’m not loveable. I need to be loved. I need to love myself. I need to let go of the need to be perfect so I can be loveable… and just love myself because i’m already perfect in all my imperfections.

However, when it got down to brass tacks – the deepest issue, He showed me, was not a lack of self love at all… it was the fact that my heart chakra is missing – has been taken. My Heart has been taken. There is a long story behind this, and it involves the loss of my son, and I really don’t want to get into it in this post, but metaphysically, my body and psyche is treating the loss of my son to my parents as a death of my heart and of my son – and my son IS my heart, so… no Heart.

Flereous told me, “I cannot replace your heart for you, I cannot retrieve all your pieces for you at once – but I can set your feet on the road.”
I answered, “Then yes, please, set my feet on the road. This pain and emptiness is just too much. I need to fix it.”
He put a cap of diamond over the hole, and I felt a shift, and then we said our goodbyes, I gave up the rest of the incense… and then I felt the need to go looking for information about what to do about a missing chakra – I’ve seen missing chakras before, but usually the body I’m working on tells me what to do – but for me, I was wondering what other people had written about missing chakras. So I wanted to do a little research.

What I came across instead was information on chakra removal.

http://thecarlafoxblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/chakra-removal.html

http://www.fw-indigo-adults.com/pages/SecretBehindChakras.html

http://www.fw-indigo-adults.com/pages/implants.html

http://youarehealednow.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_3.html

http://jodegrayart.wordpress.com/tag/chakra-removal/

http://www.psiwarriors.com/threads/removing-chakras.809/

SO – this is the first step on my journey to recovering and healing my Heart – dissolving my chakras, and my separation between myself and my son and everything else, and becoming more open. Removing the chakra system and becoming more in tune with my higher self and with Source, and thus with my Son and the rest of the world, without being battered by it as I was when I was using the chakra system to deal with my psychic abilities, will hopefully make sure that another crash like this last one will never happen again, as well. :love2: :clap:

Deepest blessings…
Nycto

PS – As I go, I hope to be able to learn to do this for others.