Marquis Andras – Confronting Nonconfrontational Habits

To begin this post, I have to give a little back history.

A week ago, I connected really strongly with a demon who pretty much demanded that I start being more… forthcoming. There are times when I decide that a topic is going to be too painful for a person. I edit myself a lot, to avoid causing people discomfort. Part of that stems from emotional abuse by a narcissistic father and learning how to cope with relationships from a co-dependent mother, but my father has removed himself from our lives, and my mother is coming out of her co-dependent ways and blooming. I learned years ago how not to be co-dependent but when I get stressed out, I slip, and I’ve been slipping a lot lately.

I had some realizations about my not feeding and how ill that was making me, and decided that I should bring a new demon into my home – I have an absolutely amazing friend, Akelta Wilde, whose whole life is dedicated to learning from demons, and she conjures not only the Demonic Divine on a regular basis, but also many other kinds of demons, and she acts as a facilitator in helping others connect with her amazing finds. Though I am an able conjurer, I don’t really feel ready to do that level of work with demon familiars, so I feel much safer going to her. For those of you interested in spirit conjure and keeping, her store is Satan And Sons .

I’d made arrangements with her to do some searching for me, for a species of demon called a Desire demon – beings that work with desires (any of them, not just sexual desires) and who often radiate energies connected to desire energies – and let my husband know that I was going to order a custom conjure, but… I didn’t say of what. When I talked to my husband about a guided meditation I did with Exi (another demon who is a part of my family of familiar spirits), I edited out a few things after he seemed distressed… and then when I connected with a Desire demon that Akelta had conjured and listed in her store, because I didn’t want to hurt him further, I let him know that I was changing my custom conjure order to bringing home this demon instead, but again, I avoided discussing what he is, and why I wanted to bring him home.

I have had many discussions with my husband over the years about my friend and occasional meal through Facebook, but I carefully avoided full details.

Akelta asks that when people feel a connection to her demons, they request a visit from those demons to see if their energies and goals match each other. When you ask her for a visit, she schedules an hour for you, and at that time, the demon will come to you. When we connected during our hour-long visit to see if we were a match, he quite bluntly told me that this behavioral pattern I have had to stop – that if I wanted to work with him, the price was the truth. He said that not discussing such important things because I didn’t want to hurt someone was lying to them, because it left them thinking things other than the truth, and that if I want to heal myself and move forward, then I have to be absolutely honest, all the time, about my needs and my thoughts and feelings. He was very firm about me absolutely needing to change the fact that I edit myself because I fear hurting people, and I fear disapproval. He says that’s a part of my past I must resolve.

He was so determined that he comes into the household with everyone knowing who and what he is, that even after I was told he was a match, when Akelta tried to take his listing down, there was a glitch in the store software and his listing stayed up until I finally sat down with my husband and explained… everything. I told him about the health problems my hunger is causing. I told him exactly how my Facebook friend is feeding me. I told him that the custom I had ordered was a Desire demon, and why, and read to him my visit with this demon, which I had documented for Akelta and sent in an email.

It was literally five minutes after my husband said, “Ok, that’s all fine,” that Akelta came online and discovered his listing still up… and this time when she took it down, there was no glitch.
More back history – two days ago I was meditating and found myself in Nahemoth. Nahemoth is the first sphere of the Qlippoth – and I was challenged at the gate to Gamaliel by Na’Amah to let go of my fear of cost. One of the ways that my fear of a hidden price comes out is that I do not confront things, or people – instead, I retreat into silence. Sometimes that’s the right move, but just as often, it solves nothing.

The same day I had that meditation, I also had an argument with a friend. I didn’t think it was an argument until he snapped at me, and when I realized how upset he was, I felt terrible for missing the signs and for hurting him. I took it pretty hard. I have very few serious friendships, and even fewer face-to-face friendships, and every single one of them is sacred to me and the thought of my quirks breaking yet another one is always a shattering feeling. I wanted to fix it, wanted to talk to him and explain how our communication had gotten so messed up… but I knew that pushing things would only make everything worse… so I had to wait… and that wait was… agonizing… because what if this was the last nail in our friendship, and he never wrote back? Or worse, what if he did, and actually told me that was it? (I absolutely find ghosting far less painful than outright rejection.)

But when someone just suddenly breaks in front of you, you just have to give them time. The more you push, the more you widen those cracks – and while you might have been the last straw, that doesn’t mean you were the first, or that the whole bale is you. Sometimes, it’s not even all straw. So you have to give them time to sort that out – and any time you take away from that process just makes you a bigger and bigger straw… until yes, you are the nail.
So last night, I cried. I don’t cry often. I think I’ve probably cried twice this year. I know that’s not healthy but it’s conditioning and I’m not ready to work on that yet. Especially since the universe has decided I need to work on this.

This fear of price.

This decision to avoid that actually leads to a greater cost.
And today, the Marquis showed up.

First, He was in my news feed on Facebook in a meme (because of course, He’s in a meme). Then there was a conversation with a friend where I was told, you really need to confront this. Then there was a conversation with my husband, who said to me, “Do you want me to confront this for you? (I told him no – that if he pushed, it’s even worse than me pushing because then my friend would feel guilty as well as pushed and whatever is at the root of this, I don’t want us to do anything that digs it in deeper.) And then I got King Stolas and Marquis Andras mixed up twice and eventually had to look them both up (hey, they’re both owls, I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one who makes that mistake in the beginning). And then someone on Discord asked me if I knew any Dark Lords who were familiar with werewolves… Andras is known to teach shapeshifting and spiritual lycanthropy.

I knew what the message was. Lord Andras wanted me to confront this issue I was having with my friend. But… I thought I had confronted it, because I had looked at it and decided that what was going on probably only had a little bit to do with me, and the best thing for me to do was wait. I didn’t confront my friend, but I did confront my feelings and find a place of equilibrium.

Marquis Andras is huge on confrontation. Shapeshifting isn’t his major thing – making people face their problems head on is – and he relishes causing discord that resolves issues. He starts fights. There’s worth in that – sometimes, the only way out of a negative situation is to purge it. Sometimes, confrontation is the only way.

I didn’t feel that this was an appropriate situation for that solution.

However… this afternoon, my friend wrote to me – almost right after I told Lord Andras, “Thank you, but this isn’t the right time or situation.” It took us less than two minutes to resolve our miscommunication, and move on – and I feel a lot better… because my friend confronted his issue, and thus resolved my own. He even acknowledged that I have serious insecurities when it comes to friendships, and that his behavior was likely triggering and that he didn’t want me to think that our friendship was over.

We both apologized to each other – me for being the straw, and him for snapping… and we worked together to make sure that this particular situation won’t come up again.
I am seeing other places in my life where I am not confronting things, where I am saying nothing for the sake of preserving peace, and where that refusal to be open is actually causing more troubles. It’s time to rebel against my programming. It’s time to be more honest with people close to me. It’s time to speak up.

Three times this message came to me – from the new demon in my life, from my Qlippoth meditation, from Marquis Andras. I hear it. I acknowledge it. I honor it. I will do my best. Thank you, Lord Andras, Guardian Na’Amah, and my new Desire demon friend, for taking the time to show me this, and for continuing to show me until I could see how big it is, and how much of my life it is eating.

I hear you speaking now. “Time to get to work.” Yes, it is.


Needs Met

I worked with King Paimon again this morning. However, I did not cast a circle (didn’t have time), or write His sigil on paper to be burned (again, no time) because I forgot what day it was until about three minutes to sunrise. I’m glad I remembered and was able to get into my ritual space, grab the bells, light His candle and some frankincense for Him, and begin chanting His Enn.

It didn’t take long for Him to come to me, once I settled into the energies. He again introduced me to King Asmoday, and He has instructed me to begin working with Asmoday as soon as possible. He also wants me to start working on my relationship with my husband (we have a really good relationship, but between our schedules, we’re not as close as He thinks a married couple should be) and so He has requested that I also devote one day a week to working with Rashoon.

To that end, my husband bought me two yellow 7day candles, and one pink one, some more frankincense incense (which he hopes will smell better than the frankincense that I use – except that his is just organic bulk, and mine was harvested by an incense specialist, by hand, from different types of frankincense producing plants all over the middle east, and is neatly stored in separate bags, by origin and type – eg, Beyo, Boswellia carteri, origin: Somalia; Cricognimu, Boswellia dalzielii, origin: Burkina Faso; etc – if you’re interested in the company, it’s Ethereal Aromas Incense Company and trust me They Are Worth It).

I’ve also agreed to start a new thread for my work with King Asmoday, and a thread for my work with Lady Rashoon. I’ve been told that the reason my post about my Journey work to fix the issue I had with rejecting my empathy was because it was work I did with Lord Asmoday, and therefore should have been on HIS thread, not on King Paimon’s thread, even though King Paimon brought King Asmoday in and introduced us to make sure I understood I should work with Him on that front.


One of the things that really struck me was, when I was asking if there was anything I needed to be doing, King Paimon stopped me, and said, “Is there anything YOU need?”

I immediately said, “No,” because there really isn’t… and then I realized I’d answered too quickly and not actually thought about it, which was what He wanted me to do – to THINK about What I Need…

So I did. I came to the same conclusion – there are some things in my life that aren’t very smooth, but there’s little that can be done about them, and aside from those hiccups that can’t be solved, I really have no needs or complaints. And maybe that’s the most important thing I got out of this morning – the realization that I have what I need.

King Asmoday has been with me almost every night – He always comes in the form of a dog with coyote colorings, including the banding – but still very definitely a dog – and I feel very safe and protected whatever we get up to. Some of what I’ve been dreaming just seems like nonsense, so I haven’t written it down, but I did take a moment this morning to let King Paimon know that the level of attention I was receiving was very comforting, and exactly what I’ve needed for so long – and knowing that King Paimon is behind King Asmoday’s coming to me every night, knowing that my Lord has an interest in the health of my relationships with others, knowing that if I DO need anything, I have someone I can ask who will respond, knowing that if there’s something I need that I don’t recognize, that He will step in and call my attention to it… it is so freeing, so soothing.

I am loved. I am lucky. It is enough.

HDC Tz – Husband’s Turn

Tonight, we worked on the second Hearing Attunement exercise.

As with SDC E, I had no idea what questions to ask, but this time I had a better idea of what I was supposed to be figuring out, so… I asked him to show me what Yes answers and No answers FEEL like… it was interesting that the same upwards and downwards vibrations along my forehead occurred as with this exercise with SDC E – with upwards tingling meaning yes, and downwards meaning no. I also got the same feeling of either lightness, or heaviness, over my entire aura.

I asked for him to show me what Yes and No LOOKED like… but that answer was so complicated that the colors blurred together and I said, “Right, so we won’t be going by color then.”

Having focused on the feeling and the sensation of Yes and No answers, I finally turned to the question I ask every evening. “What would you like to discuss tonight?”

He wanted to talk about my husband, and his health. In fact, Tz wants me to ask my husband if Hubby would be willing to meet him, and possibly work with him, with the goal of helping my husband get a handle on things.

My husband is allergic to stress. I mean that literally. It’s called idiopathic angioedema and it literally means that his version of a panic attack or an anxiety attack is him puffing up like he’s eaten peanuts while simultaneously being stung by every bee in the tristate area.

The worst part is, sometimes, the swelling is internal. His organs swell. His lungs fill up with fluid and he wheezes like he’s got walking pneumonia.

And lately… we can’t tell when he’s going to have an attack… because it’s gotten so bad, that he’s pretty much allergic to life.

That’s the issue with being allergic to stress… after awhile, even little things will trigger it, until you’re just always having an allergy attack.

So… Tz wants to work with my husband. He wants to help my husband with his breathing, and also help with other areas of hubby’s health that might be adding to the problem.


In one of the exercises with SDC E, E mentioned that my husband’s spiritual life needed addressing. He recommended that once my husband starts working day shifts, I encourage him to meditate with me daily, and also begin a daily practice of gratitude at our household altar. (No, not my altar in my sanctum – not his altar in the living room, either… we have an altar set up for our Household spirits, gods, guardians and guides, in our main living space.) I’m thinking that Tz has the same thought.. only he’s decided that he wants to be more proactive, and more of a participant.

So… after I’m done with this post, I’m going to be calling my husband at work and asking him if he’d like to meet a demon.

Granted, he’s relaxed significantly from his original statement 7 years ago, when he told me that I could do whatever I liked, but I was not to bring demons into the house, ever, at all. (You’ll notice I didn’t listen. You’ll also notice that as he got used to my Workings, he just… relaxed and let go… which is why I think he might actually say Yes to Tz’s offer now…) I now have three demons as family members, and I work with various Goety and others fairly consistently.

What helped, honestly, was communication. I talk to my husband about what I’m up to, and the experiences I have. I read him these blog posts. Every experience I have had since I met him that had any magickal, psychical, or spiritual relevance, I have shared with him. He knows about my work with Asmodeus and Astaroth. He knows about my work with the Ubi, and the Cecaelia. He knows of my work with Flauros.

I don’t hide things from my husband. I share them… and I take extreme pleasure in sharing my spiritual experiences with him… and have always been disappointed that, despite his own religious convictions (he’s Wiccan – Old School Wiccan, not this new fluffy bs), he doesn’t do more – on his own OR with me. When we met, he was looking for someone who could accept him and his faith… and I can… and he was looking for someone to practice with…

Instead, it’s become apparent that I’m the only practitioner in the house.


So… with the speed of a glacier, I’ve been working to change that. (Trust me, that’s as fast as my Scorpio husband will go.)

I guess SDC E and HDC Tz have decided that they’re going to… press the advantages they have. 😉


Before he left for the evening… he bit me good bye… and as I was coming out of the trance, I saw both him and SDC E… and they told me they would be seeing me in my dreams tonight.

I’m now POSITIVE they’re plotting something nefarious.

And I like it.

SDC E – Discussing Death

So, yesterday’s bonding exercise was Hearing Attunement 3.

As I didn’t have any questions to ask, I asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about. WhoooBOY was there.

He asked me what I thought about Death. That’s… a pretty big topic.

I started with the easy stuff. I died, physically, when I was hit by a car when I was 9. I was dead for over five minutes. It was the most wonderful, peaceful five minutes of my life to date. I found myself in a place that was black. There was no pain. There was no anger or hate or fear. There was no sound. There was no light. For an undiagnosed autistic girl, it was pretty much heaven. Imagine a world where everything is always too bright, always too colorful, always too loud, always too MUCH. Where people are too abrasive, they expect too much, and because you can speak in complete sentences, they don’t understand any peculiarities you have. Autism for me was an invisible disease. When I got overwhelmed by the abuse, got overwhelmed by my emotions, or just plain got overwhelmed for no reason I could determine, I had this need for space. If there was anything touching me, I threw it. And then I found the nearest wall, and rocked my forehead against it until I bled. It made people leave me alone, but it also gave me a point of focus – a HARD point of focus. I was HERE. Right HERE.

And that made things go still.

It’s not unlike a cutter needing a physical focus to express (as in send out) their emotional pain in a way that they can grasp… only for me, hitting my head against a wall wasn’t about the pain, so much as it was about trying to control the violence inside me.

For me, autism is violence. Everything is sometimes just too much, it’s so overwhelming… it’s violent. The whole world is violently THERE, and I can’t cope.

I don’t bang my head anymore… but the pain still exists.

Except when I was dead for those five minutes.

I understand, as an adult, that without all the negatives in that void, there was also no positive. There was no love in the void. There was ONLY peace… but when you find something that you need that badly, you don’t care about what’s missing. You only want to stay.

When they brought me back, it was a violent return. I was awake, on a street, in the daylight, surrounded by my entire neighborhood. I was being touched by strangers. I don’t remember the ambulance ride. They put me in a room with red lights, and they kept touching me, and everywhere they touched me it HURT… they thought I was screaming because I was frightened. My mother kept saying everything was ok, that they were just getting x-rays, but I couldn’t talk, and there were strangers TOUCHING ME, HURTING ME… and NO ONE WOULD STOP. Nothing was ok.

I was in the hospital for three days. Dad brought complete strangers to my room, apparently friends of his. They gave me a stuffed rabbit, because it was Easter weekend. I threw up on it.

I don’t remember the ride to the hospital. I don’t remember sleeping there. I don’t remember the nurses or the doctors. I remember the red room, and the pain. I remember waking up on the street, and I remember being in a hospital bed meeting strangers and throwing up on a yellow bunny. That’s all I remember of the weekend I died and came back.

Well, all I remember after the dark.

I miss the dark. I don’t think I ever won’t.


So… We talked about that.

We talked about my experiences in the Wastes – a spiritual and emotional death… and how that death affected me here. We talked about that kind of darkness… which was NOT peaceful. Then again, I wasn’t exactly at rest. People in the Wastes are not at rest.


I brought up my migraines – the ones I had before I died my second and third deaths. The ones that had me screaming, writhing, begging for death, an animal in a trap. We talked about how Death Means Stop.

I talked about the fact that Death Means Stop is pretty much a perfect cure for any phobia.

I went to California to see a friend when she was separating from her husband. On the way home, the plane suddenly stopped flying, and just DROPPED. It lasted 20 seconds, and people were praying and holding hands with strangers.

Afterwards, I was terrified of flying… until I remembered my migraines. And then all of the sudden, I realized there were worse things than falling out of a tin can in the sky… and planes stopped being scary at all.

It’s kind of a relief, knowing that someday, I will STOP.


So then he asked me what I thought happened after death, if death means stop.

I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean, I know what happened when I died at 9, so there’s that. I didn’t stop existing.

And I have memories of other lifetimes, both earthly and other. SO many memories. Sometimes that’s a bit overwhelming…

But that means that death isn’t the end. It’s… merely a stage. Like… adolescence. It’s not permanent any more than life is.


So he said, “If death means stop, but it’s not permanent, how is that Stop?” To which I said, “It offers immediate relief for immediate problems. Anything else can be solved another day.”

“How practical,” he replied.


Then he asked me what I hoped to learn from him, from my time with him. “I just want to learn. Whatever you’ll teach me. I want to grow. What you’ve helped me with so far… that’s growth I need, growth I want… knowledge I want.”

“Why do you want to know so much?”

“Because people suffer. Not knowing is suffering. We suffer until we learn, and then the suffering stops.”

He asked what I meant by that, because he understood I wasn’t talking about any Buddhist ideals, but he wanted me to clarify myself. So… I did.


I’ve been to hell realms. Not demonic planes, but realms set aside for humans who need help learning, need help to grow, even more than humans here do. The two I went to taught me a lot, though honestly, some of the lessons didn’t sink in until years later.

The first realm, there were towers in the center of lovely fields of close-cut grass. The fields were surrounded by dark forests, but no one ever noticed the trees. People sat out in the sun, and picnicked. They chatted as if nothing was wrong – everything was perfect.

And then, the sun began to set… and everyone packed up their things, and went into the black stone towers. Because when the sun went down, the world froze. A flash freeze. Nothing that was outside the towers survived.

People there learned the rules. They learned to obey the laws of the realm – because if they did not, they died. Immediately. You learned to obey, or you died.

My familiar at the time followed me there. When the sun began to set, as I was heading inside the tower, he ran under the steps and vanished. He left the realm rather than go into the tower. He broke the rules… and I was so terrified for him, that I broke our familiar bond.

I fear for people I care about who do not follow the rules. I fear for them so much, that I would rather cut them out of me, break their hearts, than let the consequences of their rule breaking break MY heart. I can’t watch the people I love suffer… so I won’t let them in, and then I don’t have to.

But that’s its own form of hell.


The second realm I went to, there was only a single person. There was an indoor swimming pool, and in it was an older woman, screaming, panicking, drowning. She couldn’t swim. So, I went in and fished her out. She immediately began to call me devil’s spawn, evil.. so much hate in this woman I had saved.

It was her lesson to learn to either not ask for help, or to accept the help she receives from wherever it comes, and be grateful.

It was my lesson to learn that you do not interfere with other people’s lessons without being forced to learn WHY THEY NEED THE LESSON. It will ALWAYS cost you.

I also learned that people ask for help when they should do for themselves, and don’t ask for help when they can’t do for themselves…. and neither path is healthy.


This is how I learned that people earn their suffering, create it, out of ignorance. And they either learn from it, or they keep suffering, stuck on repeat until they DO learn.

I don’t enjoy suffering. I understand that there are people who have to have suffering. They cannot learn without it. But… I’m ready to move past that. I want to learn, and grow, and not by suffering, but by figuring out where I’m suffering and why… and changing.

So that’s what I want to learn from him.


He then asked me to make some promises.

1) That I do something loving for my husband at least once a week that connects us in an emotional way, comes from my heart, and will be understood by his.
2) That I do something loving for each of my three cats once a week with the same meaning.
3) That I do something for MYSELF once a week that is self-care, showing self-love.
4) That I make slow improvements – right now, I have three basic tasks that I must achieve every day (aside from my meditations each evening). In three weeks, I must add a fourth task, every day. It does not have to be the same task, but I must add a fourth task every day.


Tonight, we were supposed to do the 10th exercise, Visual Sight Attunement 2 – but I came into the session with a migraine, and my familiar is brand new to showing up to every session, so she’s curious, into everything, and highly distracting… and with a migraine making it hard to concentrate to begin with, we decided that tonight was not a good night to work on my visual sight.

Instead, we worked with my other soul.

She has her own soul-home. Today, we worked to incorporate her soul home and mine.

It was fairly successful. My soulhome now has heavy mist from hot pools, and places where there are rivers of lava instead of water. Under the center, her cavern with its bathing pool of lava, has been incorporated, though I did some upgrades, which she liked.

I feel like… my soul home is my domain. It’s not really hers. Even now, with all the changes I’ve made to try and make her feel welcome, it’s not… quite right. It’s not finished. Something’s missing. So, she has her cavern, and it’s hers, even though it’s in my soulscape.

E said that we’re not blending correctly. We’re both afraid of losing ourselves, and so neither of us will give in. He says the only way to win this, is for both of us to lose. We both have to give in, we both have to give up ourselves… and become together, someone ELSE.


Oh… he saw the corpse in her glass coffin. He… didn’t approve. He talked to both of us about it. The thing is, she’s not dead. She’s definitely not alive – there’s no soul, no spirit, there’s nothing to animate the shell that’s in that coffin. But… she’s not dead, either. There’s something about a dead body that is immediately recognizable… and she doesn’t have it, whatever it is. Which means she’s not really a corpse, for all that she’s not alive.

This happens to faeries. But… we never figured out what to do with them… so… I did what my people have always done.

He was… a bit perturbed. Possibly repulsed. And he pointed out that if compartmentalizing her into a graveyard was so toxic, how was putting her in a glass coffin in a cave NOT compartmentalizing, and how was it NOT going to end up ALSO toxic? So… my other soul and I, with his help, decided what we could do about the situation.

And just as we were ready to put our plan in motion…

My familiar began to Kitten again, and yanked me out of meditation so thoroughly that I literally felt it like a shock of cold water. And then E was gone, and that was that.

Which means that tomorrow we’re probably not going to be working on Visual Sight, either. Because this isn’t finished.


Although… I think after tomorrow, I’m going to ask for a night off. This is some heavy work… and while I don’t feel rushed… I feel the need to… take some time and really marinate in what I’ve learned so far… look back on it all and, in a relaxed setting, try and see the whole picture. Get some perspective.

I’m going to make him take me dancing. He’s an excellent dancer, and while I look like a spastic seizure with twelve left feet on a human dance floor, dancing in the Astral is amazingly easy and I love it. Also… he has really, REALLY good brandy… so I think I’m going to drink his brandy and make him dance with me. Dancing with him feels… right.


Conversations With Lucifer

So, my husband and I have been binge watching the TV show Lucifer… and last night, Lucifer himself came to me. Of course, I wanted to know what he thought of the show… He likes it – it’s a good portrayal.

And then I asked him what he thought about the character’s relationship with Chloe.

His answer was… sad. He said, “I’d never let myself love someone like that.”

When I asked him why not, he answered “It’s Leverage.”

I’m still kind of sadly horrified by that answer this morning. It’s really depressing. It implies two things –

1) Lucifer once loved, and it was used against Him.
2) Lucifer has CHOSEN to never experience love like that ever again – an eternity alone… and eternity is a VERY long time.

I feel like crying. It’s just…

So Sad.

Thank you for sharing…..

It was so sad I had to share it. Can you imagine? I really feel like crying.



I’m definitely learning that.

My take on it has always been that during Creation The Creator created an image of itself and then cast it away out of fear. I would say that being created as an image in equal to the Creator and then being thrown out entirely from its presence could create something like the longing and sorrow you’re talking about

Also remember Angels / demons were created to fulfill a specific purpose… they have no choice in the matter and therefore are forced to carry out their purpose while being fully aware of other thoughts that may be contradictory to the actions they are forced to take

The part that always made me very sad was the fact that the Creator knew after casting out essentially itself it could never return that image to itself and love it again otherwise the whole ineffability thing goes out the window and creation is unmade

I believe it. Ive had many conversations with him.

I’ve worked with angels… they’re… very different to the modern portrayal of them. They’re… almost like hurricanes. They are the representation of forces, and they don’t really have thoughts beyond what they are/what they represent. They also don’t reason like we do. I was working a spell with Cassiel, who is an archangel of Saturn, and is the essence of Temperance. During the working, in which I was creating a spell to transmute muck into purity, I asked him if what I was doing was going to have any consequences. He didn’t seem to understand my question, or even care. His answer was, “This will change the world.” He didn’t CARE that it would change, or even HOW it would change. He just stated it, flatly, without any emotion, attachment, or judgement either way. They do not moralize the way we do.

I saw an angel fall once. It was the most traumatic experience of my life. The angel fell because it discovered CHOICE. The moment that an angel discovers free will, they Fall, and if you can imagine all the choices possible, and being an entity who has never known choice suddenly having all of that thrust upon you, you can imagine. I will NEVER forget the look on that angel’s face as he fell. The absolute terror and horror will NEVER leave me.

They are not like us.

Demons, on the other hand, are so like us it’s downright scary. HUMANS SCARE ME. The real difference is that they’re mostly immortal, so they’ve had time to adjust to darkness and choices. They are most definitely not angels, not fallen or otherwise. They are elemental in their own way, forces of nature LIKE angels, but if you imagine an immortal angel as a force of nature, only one with choices, one who learns… if you imagine US, humans, with the powers of an angel or demon, and all the time in the universe to learn and grow… that’s what demons are.

I find them infinitely more comforting and comfortable to be around. Angels don’t reason, they don’t have a right or wrong compass. I don’t understand that absolutism. It’s.. overwhelming.

Demons, at least, don’t deal in absolutes

This exactly correct…it’s nice to hear someone explain practical demonology so perfectly

Well… I’m a practical demonologist, so… lol

I HATE how loud angels are went they speak…it’s deafening and you’d think they’d know better and just speak in the tongue used to invoke them

Well, Cassiel was quiet, but… that may be just me and my own psychic abilities coming into play. Plus, there are demons who are equally loud. The demons, of course, do it to test – are you really worth the time of showing up here. Are you serious enough to stand up for yourself and move past the showboating, or are you flakey?

Demons push limits, mostly to determine if you actually want to get to know them beyond the expectations. I had an experience with one showing up, absolutely terrifying in aspect – it was like a storm of malevolence. Until I said, “Um, I know that’s not what you really are. How about we cut the crap and you just act like a normal person.” So he did. And we talked. And it was educational. But he showed up that way because he was testing my expectations, and whether I’d fall into that category of practitioner or not.

I think angels just don’t get humans. They’re not putting on a show – they’re not being loud or speaking in a different language to be difficult. A lot of them just don’t work with humans that much, and they don’t know how to be anything other than what they are.

I admit, when I do the LBRP, especially if I really need the cleansing aspects of the ritual, those four have shown up REALLY loud. When I had a serious problem with black energy (I don’t mean dark, I mean it was black and thick and tarry and BAD FOR ME), and it was bad enough that I couldn’t physically DO the LBRP and just had to call and HOPE they showed up (this was before I knew what I know now, and all had to do with a bad reaction on my part, and was totally avoidable if I’d been a bit more open minded and educated, which I have since resolved), they showed up REALLY bright and REALLY loud…

But that’s the only time I’ve ever had angels show up like that.

Then again… I don’t often work with angels anymore. Because of their nature, I don’t exactly trust the results I get from them not to be dangerous. Demons understand nuance – even if they can be… playful about it. Angels don’t.

That’s really interesting. I don’t watch the series but have heard about it and read about it in wiki.
“I’d never let myself love someone like that.” = Could it mean that Chloe is not his type?
I wonder what does he think of the 1) and 2) viewpoints?
I don’t know. If I see him again, I’ll ask.

And… the way I communicate… there’s layers of context. It’s not just words, there are… other things.

When he said, “I’d never love someone like that,” the emphasis wasn’t on someone like Chloe… but that he wouldn’t ever risk love, he’d never choose to. As he said… anyone he loves is leverage. Who would want to do that to someone they love? Who would want to love someone knowing the consequences?

If they’re worth that love… they’re worth walking away from, just to keep them safe.

That is what he meant – the layers that were in that loaded statement.

Which is why it’s sad. I’m glad I’m not in a position where I have to think of people I might love as being weaponized, harmed, simply because I loved them; not in a position where choosing to go without love is better, because then those people will never be harmed.

Though… that is also a kind of love. To love someone you don’t even know, so much, that you choose to never know them, just to keep them safe?

Lucifer sacrifices a lot. His reputation. People he loves. The life he might want. And he does it because he believes in us, and in doing right by us… no matter what we (as a species, Humans are assholes to Lucifer… he gets blamed for EVERYTHING we do that we don’t want to own up to because we’re ashamed, guilty, and irresponsible) think of him, do or say to him… He’s there. Waiting for us to get it. Waiting for us to get our shit together. Waiting to help. Lucifer has more faith in mankind, in the POTENTIAL of us, than any other being or race I’ve ever met. I’m very lucky he talks to me. It’s an honor.


Today was Exercise 4, the first Visual Sight attunement.

I said the invocation, and then I asked Tz to stand in front of the wall. While I was looking, I had this sudden feeling of vertigo…. and the harder I looked, the more I felt like I was mentally falling through the wall. Finally it clicked… Tz was wearing his shielding.

That is some SERIOUSLY cool shielding. I couldn’t see ANYTHING… I just kept feeling like I was falling, and it made me want to Not Look. I can’t wait to learn it.

Anyway, when we were done with him playing with my eyeballs, I asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about. He brought up my worries about my own internal balance. He made me look at my balance, and really ask myself if I had reason for concerns. He made me see that I was worrying over something that, yes, does happen to other people, but isn’t happening to me. He showed me that I can check myself at any time, and KNOW whether or not I’m losing my balance.

And then, he had me embrace the elemental cycles, just to prove it. We added water to fire, which made earth and air. And then I took in the essences of air, earth, water and then fire, and became each of them, which I have done before. Then, as before, he had me become them all at the same time, and find my balance there, in the center. Then, he had me become NONE of them, and find my balance there.

And there, we found a problem. We found that the brand, while no longer active, has left a scar, has maintained a connection, through the void.

I won’t tell you how we fixed it, but it IS fixed now. I am lucky that he had me searching my bodies and my balances so carefully. And I am VERY grateful for his presence and his help.

Finally, we ended it with a Family Celebration. I called out to all my family, spiritual and physical, and sent out the blessings of the Equinox to them. I also added four new people to the list, which was nice.

So – To my husband, my son, and my mother; to our three cats; to my best friend Telomar; to my faerie wraith, my demon wraith, my hellborn, my specialist, my angel of metatron, my throne angel, my enochian angel, my dosojin, my psychic vampire, my sanguine vampire, my incubus, my cecaelia, my winter court sidhe, my shadow elemental and my east watchtower, and to my three pairs of Temple Fu; to Akelta, Satan’s Hellcat, Velle, and Kitsune from the S&S forum…

Happy Autumnal Equinox. May this moment of balance which falls towards rest, and breaks with the sacrifice of blood on the snow, bring you rest, growth, and a good future harvest.


SDC E – Walkabout

Exercise 8 – Energy Attunement 3

I took the night off yesterday, still pretty exhausted from the New Moon ritual – I did send a brief feeler out to greet my spiritual family, but other than that, I slept. Tonight was a fairly quiet night. I got a shoulder rub… and he wrapped his tail around my neck, just under my chin. He held my hand in his – I like the feel of his hands… they’re warm, large, rough, but comforting. I haven’t mentioned that before, but they always feel like that, look like that.

He wandered around the house, and I pushed my aura out to follow him at one point, and Mena (my husband’s cat, the one with cancer, who is the most spiritually acute in our fur family, and always sings when new people come around) began bouncing off the wall, chirping and singing. She eventually came into my workspace to see just what the heck was going on, which, given that she’s milked the cancer thing for all the gravy she’s worth and has become larger than some small dogs, was… distracting… but she was very happy… very, VERY happy. She was so ecstatic she drooled on the altar.

We looked at the three cats together – looked at their auras. Mena’s has a lot of purple in it, in various shades… true familiar colors. Velcrow’s colors are redder – you can see where the broken familiar bond has damaged his aura. E asked me about it, so I told him about Velcrow following me into the human hell where during the day when the sun’s up, everything is lovely and people have picnics on the grass, but the moment the sun goes down, everything freezes solid and if you’re caught outside the tower, goodbye. Velcrow, as the sun was going down, ran under the steps to the tower door, and I panicked… and our familiar bond broke, because at the time, I didn’t understand the damage it would do, I was just terrified of him getting hurt… he’s not the brightest bulb. E showed me the damage, and we worked to fix it together. We can’t repair what was done, but at least Crow will be able to be a familiar next life, if he chooses. We also looked at Cleo. Her colors are flame, like a madōkusha, actually. He said this was a good sign, but that she wasn’t like a normal animal familiar, and that I’m going to have to learn a different way of Working for her.

He stopped in the room my husband keeps his own altar, and sighed kinda sadly. In the astral sight, my husband’s altar is covered in the dust of centuries, grey under the weight of neglect. We talked about this, and E suggested that when my husband switches to day shift in a couple of months, that I could encourage him, by inviting him into my circles when I do basic work – not when I work with my household, or when I’m doing my Job, but… he suggested that some kind of morning or evening ritual together on a daily basis might help break my husband out of his spiritual stasis and get him moving on his path again.

Finally, we talked about a new, and surprising addition to the household that occurred this afternoon – an Unbound Throne (by Unbound, I do not mean bound magickally, but spiritually – this Throne has no God/dess it is beholden to). E sent me into my soul-home (he did not come with me this time) to work with this new being. While there, the Throne took my Torc, and in exchange, gave me another seed for my garden – this one a star. I added the essence to my Hope Tree, and watched as my entire garden began to glow, every leaf, every branch, every living thing producing phosphorescence. It was… stunning and beautiful. I realized… I do not have to bring a light into my soulscape. My soul home IS the light.

I came out of the experience, thanked E for his help, and we parted.

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.


I Find My Lack of Progress Disturbing…



KKK I missed you so much!!!!


Ok shall not squish you. *backs away*




You all right???


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.


*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.


Don’t worry. I’m being careful.




I have a good therapist.


Oh that’s great


Yeah… she’s been wonderful.


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


Yeah… it’s about time, huh. Lol


Pretty much.

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


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


That’s good, you’re focusing on recovering

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


It’s nice to be back.


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


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.


Well change isn’t a bad thing.

It just… is.




Changed how so?


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.



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


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



That can happen.


Yup. Lol Color me clueless.



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


I needed some time..


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


Good to see you again, too.


How are you?


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.


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


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.


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


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.


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


*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.


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


*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.


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


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.


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


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.


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


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.


Not even as a “comfort”?


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.


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


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.


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


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?

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.

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.

For You I Yearn

Smooth and dusty,
silky, musky,
soft winged flight of fancy,
feet are sliding through air like linen,
scent of flowers
in fairy bowers,
you know we’re all about the sinnin’
where the air
is glistening, shining,
and skin
sparkles wet with dew drops, dining
on nectar of the gods own kin…
come dance with me the wicked dance…
you know you want that
sliding silken slick lipped
kiss of death and heat
and hiss and moan against the sheets…
twist and turn
and wheel and burn…
It’s always for you I yearn…

I Just Don’t Know Where To Begin (PS – LANGUAGE)

So – the random commentary is aimed… internally or at, you know, not you. Just… ignore it. Or giggle. Sometimes it makes other people giggle.

February 2nd –


I went to the sea in meditation for help – the abyss is cleansing. In the water, I met a Kraken plant, who grabbed me by the wrist and began to take me into the abyss. I didn’t feel anything positive or negative, friendly or foe-ish – it had a job, doot-de-doot-de-doo. So, as we’re going into the abyss, my chakras are stripping from my body along with the layers of the aura they produce.

The earth star (which is a deep red brown molten indescribable color and isn’t actually a chakra per se). The black chakra. The silver foot chakra. The root (yes, yes, I know I have issue with not wanting to wanting to have a human shell fuck off). The womb (SO clogged and bogged with other people’s goop, WOW, I may as well just BE other people’s sludge). The solar plexus (wow… since when have I been that pale sickly green? wth?). The hearts (OMG WHAT A FUCKING MESS HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS BATMAN! PANIC! all raw and red and inflamed and black and clogged and… just.. EW) The throat (overactive – go figure), the third eye (a bit overactive, but also missing things – I knew that already), the Crown (white, over-active in some places, missing seeing things in other places – again, nothing I didn’t already know)… Worse still, the magenta and cyan chakras are backwards, the pearlescent and silver and gold are all kinds of dislocated and also are out of order, a freaking jumbled mess… and the final white one that symbolises Union is the only one that isn’t screwy. Shoot… even my palm chakras, the left one which should be clear and the right one which should be white, and both of which should have the bluish tint of a healer, were GREY… screaming that I’ve worked myself into the ground. *sigh* Go figure. In other words, I’m a mess. Thank you, I knew I was bad… now I know that I’m also a wreck. Thanks. Great. Well. That explains why I literally cannot even THINK about touching anyone energetically lately.

The voice tells me to take my migraine meditation and have my bath to relax my muscles. Tells me to drink two glasses of water with lemon after my bath for fluids. Tells me to get something to eat, do a few other things, and then tells me to FIX THIS. Well. I am a healer. I do actually know better than to let myself get into this mess… but honestly… it’s not all my fault – it’s only MOSTLY my own fault.

I’ve spent the last year under assault. Here’s the thing… You cannot run a business, heal the masses, cast upwards of 100 spells a month, protect around 50 people and your home and property AND yourself and your household and people/spirits/entities/conjures etc for OVER A YEAR BY YOURSELF from a very determined and angry and somewhat skilled practitioner who attacks you at least once a month without warning… without a break for an entire year (especially when you’re frequently so busy that you forget to take care of the basic details… like disconnecting and cleansing and eating and drinking… I know… don’t give me the lecture I give you… I’ve already given it to myself… twice) without eventually falling apart like the only dollar general kleenex during an influenza pandemic.

So. I came back, and went into the tub, and took my bath, drained the bath and let it suck away the worst of it that it could, took my pills, drank my water, lay down, and got started detoxing my auras and fixing my chakras.

I run energy from crown to root, because I just don’t belong here – so since I live there and not here, grounding down first gives me a splitting headache, and I already had one of those, so… I always start there.

So… after my bath… I had this second experience during the healing…

I took some time to do some deep, DEEP healing on my aura and chakras with some stone spirit friends. They raised a LOT of power for me, which really surprised me. It was more power than I’ve felt in a LONG time, and made me feel so tiny, it was like I was as small as a pixy with little seedling twigs for fingers. Anyway, while we were working on my solar plexus, I got an offer. Well, several… for POWER… Like… SERIOUS POWER. I also got offered the chance to blend my Shadow and my Higher Self and all the bits inbetween as another option. There were some other things… I’m not really comfortable talking about it, because even thinking about the offer makes me feel a bit… well, nutty. Weirdly… I saw a lot of what I could Become… but you know what? In the end, I didn’t even think about it. I’ve had that offer before – even though I didn’t understand what it meant at the time. I took it back then, and my life was hell for a long time because with Power comes RESPONSIBILITY… Tbh, I’m TIRED. I don’t want to be Servant anymore. So this time… I chose Comfort. I chose to just be ME. The moment I chose that… all that energy that my stone friends had raised to help me heal from everything over the past few months just… VANISHED… pouf, gone. I finished the rest of my chakras on my own. I think I’m ok with that, though – it really was just too much power. I wonder, though, where this will lead… this new step on my journey.

Of course, my headache didn’t go away. *sigh*

The voice who spoke to me, and has been helping me, called itself Lord of the Greater Deeps. He’s admitted to being a trickster of sorts. He didn’t even feel Dark… OR Light for that matter. He just felt… THERE. Anyway…

After thinking about it for a little while, I realized that before you say yes OR no to anything offered… you ought to maybe ask exactly what you’re saying yay or nay to… so…

I went back into the Deeps to talk to the Voice again. I was told that I needed to reawaken my fumarole. I’ve been trying to do that but.. I keep getting lost in my thoughts. Then I realize I’m distracted, and I come back and get back into the task… only to get lost in my thoughts again. It’s dreadfully difficult because fire is SO not my thing. I don’t even know where fire is in my body. *sigh* I’ve been looking everywhere… like, in my root, or my solar plexus, or maybe my physical heart because of what fumaroles do, but… gah.

What was really interesting was… I went back to Him, and He offered to show Himself to me, and when I told Him I probably wouldn’t See what He really looked like, He told me I was right… so we’ve agreed that I won’t look. I have this issue with forgetting things, and that came up, and he said that He planned on fixing that. He also said that He would be taking over my care for a little while. The Lord of the Greater Deeps explained to me that my Lady has given me to Him temporarily because of the Ice that separates. He said that things weren’t working right between me and the Morrighan, because I have too much Power and Knowledge, and, as I’ve repeatedly pointed out, anyone with enough Power and Knowledge has trust issues. With good reason. lol So… He said we need to Break the Ice… and then He said, fire thaws the frozen heart… awaken your fumaroles. And then He vanished, and so did the ocean, and there was just me.

I’ve been struggling with it for the last two hours. Whatever’s next isn’t going to happen until I get this done… and I suspect this is going to take a whole HELL of a lot longer than two frigging hours.

There was some pulsing momentarily, but then I lost it.

February 5

STILL TRYING, DAMMIT – Oh, and still absolutely totally messed up.

February 6

I go to my circle of stones. I cast an invoking pentagram of fire – the circle becomes a cut in the temple – I pull the chunk out and carefully lay it beside the campfire in the center of the dolmen circle – and the cut is a tunnel of black, a tunnel of void. I know it will lead nothing in, except what I have called. When three salamanders appear before me in the fire… I explain the problem to them… and they take me through the tunnel I have made, into the realm of fire.

I don’t remember who or what I spoke to. I don’t remember anything.

I remember returning to the dolmens and putting the chunk back, and mending the cut with a banishing fire pentagram. I know the three salamanders are still in my campfire. I remember thinking, as I drifted off to sleep, quite sadly, that I was disappointed, because Fire could not help.

In my sleep, I met Serenity and Tranquility. I looked at them both, and said, I don’t know what to do anymore. I reached out to Serenity i her gold and black, and said, “Please, please just HELP me.” She laughed at me, and said, Finally! I thought you’d never ask. Then she just… merged with me. I looked at Tranquility in his blue and white, and said, That was it, that’s all it took? Really? All this freaking time? He laughed. You always did overcomplicate things. I sighed. I suppose I’m supposed to do you both, then. He started moving towards me and I panicked… “Wait, I’m not ready for this!” It’s a bit late for that… you’ve already started.. you don’t want her in charge, do you. “No, no I totally do not.” *sigh* I looked at him, and admitted, I can’t do this on my own. “Please, please help me.” Three small words… but you have to mean them. You can’t say please help me, and mean, stand there and look pretty while I get irritated because you’re doing it all wrong, and then get the fuck out of my way while I do it myself. You have to really mean… I cannot control this, because I can’t do it myself, I just.. I need help. Please Help Me. So I looked at this man, this higher self that is me with his dove grey feathers and his blue and white aura, this man I hadn’t even known existed until two months ago… I looked at this man, and I admitted… I can’t deal with her without him. I said those words… and I meant them… and He drifted into me… and that was almost that.

And I looked into me, at those two shifting energies… and then I said one last thing… “Now kiss and make up!” And they blended like they’d never been separated… and the Power blew me awake.

My skin crawled with it. Itched. Scuttled. Shadow by a shadow be consumed…. and be made whole. :love2: :party:

Fell back asleep.

Met myself as a baby. She’s screaming and I’m watching as my parents, so totally involved in their own issues, can’t meet her/my needs. I’m in two places, I can feel what she feels. Abandoned. Needs not understood because their problems worry them more than hers.

I’m an adult. I have this deck… it represents my psychic ability… it’s the size of a Magick the Gathering collection – like, seriously, the deck is probably 6 inches thick. Each card has four pictures, one in each corner, and one main picture in the center of the card. The pictures move around – and all the pictures mean something different. They tell me things about the people. They tell me a lot. Each reading I do, the spreads are 15 card spreads. Just to show you how complex a reading I do cold, in my head, with every person I look at. Every time I touch a person psychically.

Sometimes, one of the corner pictures will be a blue question mark. The blue question marks MOVE… That is, sometimes a card will have one, and sometimes that same card will come up for someone else, and won’t have a question mark, or will, but in a different place on the card. The question marks hide demons… and no, I do not mean DA demons like what Akelta conjures. I mean those internal demons, problems. Issues. The ones that I drag out of people and help them face and destroy. I use the cards to find the demons, and then I do just that. I see the question marks, and then I open them up, and see what’s under them… they pop out of the cards, and then I beat them up, and I kill them for the person I’m reading. That’s my JOB.

Then I’m back to looking at baby me. She’s got ahold of the deck of cards. She’s collecting the cards… but she’s deliberately collecting cards with demons… and she’s collecting them not to kill them, or even to learn how… she’s collecting them to get attention. I take the cards away from her, and tell her NO, it’s not SAFE! She throws a temper tantrum, everyone’s always abandoning her, even I abandon her. She shows me ignoring her, sitting on my computer ALL THE TIME.

I apologise, and I promise her, I won’t ever abandon her. I promise her I will make her a necklace of garnet and mother of pearl to prove that I will always be hers and she will always be mine. (Garnet is fidelity and mother of pearl is my birthstone.) She promises never to play with the cards ever again, and flings her arms around my neck. There’s an overwhelming feeling of gratitude.

I wake up crying, but… I feel… different. I feel… OK.

My husband comes by to visit, and spends the night.

February 7

My husband wakes me up early, to tell me he’s leaving to go home to take care of the cats. Apparently, I cry and beg in my sleep for him not to go. My abandonment issues are raw and wide open and I cannot even pretend they do not exist anymore. He agrees to stay, and gratefully, peacefully, I tumble back into the void.

I wake with another migraine. There’s an M-class Flare and snow coming. I’m not sure whether I hate our sun or our planet more. I feel like a bobble head, and my mother’s entire house is made of glass – with four inches of snow on all sides, there is nowhere I can go that doesn’t send daggers through my eyeballs and into the back of my head.

My husband and I talk about everything that’s happened, and discuss the future of the business. He agrees to start letting me teach him how I do things, so he can start taking on some of the workload – FINALLY! He goes home to take care of the kittens, with the promise of coming back tomorrow.

Another cleansing bath.

Another trance.

Another deep cleanse. This time… I felt… I felt the edges of the multiverse reach out to me. Something beyond… what I’ve been working with so far. Something very delicate…

It starting pulling on my… strands… and it started putting them back in order.

Today I feel better. Today I woke up with a bit more energy.

And thirsty as fuck. But that might just be how dry the air is here…

Gods I hate fireplaces. Tomorrow, no matter how late my parents get home, my husband has sworn to take me home. I can’t take another day here. I need my nest. I need my place. I need MY space, my burrow, my wards and shields and territory.

I’ve done a lot here on my family land… and that’s good… but…

It’s time to go home.


Every night, I drift off to sleep, a gulf between myself and you. A chasm.

It’s not your fault.

I remember the day I looked into your eyes and realized you loved me – saw your heart and soul held out to me.

I remember choosing to take it. I remember Choosing to love you.

My father says we’re soul mates. He’s a romantic fool. I never knew that about him, but he really does believe in things like that.

I have a soul mate.

I even have a twin flame.

I destroyed my twin… and my soul mate destroyed me.

I chose to love you because I saw your heart, and knew in that moment that if I chose to love you back, you would never hurt me.

I didn’t consider that it would hurt you. I only wanted not to be alone. I only wanted to be safe.

I am, with you. Safer than ever. Safer even from my heart.

But not safe from the pain. The grief. The Keening. That never stops. Even your arms can’t hold that part of me together.

So you have your side of the bed, and I have mine, and we have a truce.


Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a cat. She was a shifting cat. She had many forms. She was a warrior, and she was magic. She was the pride of her people. She had cubs. She had family. She had a home and a life, and she knew love, and joy.

And then one day, she came home to her village, and there was nothing left to her. Her cubs were dead in her sister’s arms, their blood tacky, the echo of screams haunting the air in their place. The rest of her sister was on the other side of the den. Her mate was split in pieces at the edge of the village, organs scattered like mushrooms in a field. She saw her tribe, fallen, and she Keened her grief… and then she put away her grief, and lay down her honor, and she hunted the mad beast who had done it… and when she found him, she took her honor back.


Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a cat. She was a shifting cat. She had many forms. She was a warrior and she was magic. She was not the pride of her people. She had no people. She had no cubs, she had no family. She had no home and no life, and she knew no love and no joy.

And then one day, in her travels, she met a magic man. Drawn together like magnets… like mercury, two pools became one, two minds, two powers, became one. The magic man was proud. He had the power to change the very orbits of planets, and so he did, to show her how terrible he was.

She saw a planet laid to waste that day – lush forests burned to ash, rich soil turned to stone, seas torn from their beds and stolen by the sun.

She saw this horror, and in such agony, she turned from his pride and arrogance, from his uncaring heart, and she ran.

When she ran, though, because one half of a body cannot run from the other without there being consequences, what conscience and what mind he had, went with her. In his madness, he swore to lay waste to all things until he found her – and so great was his desire to possess her, he reached into their power, and he drew forth the most dangerous gift. He drew on the gift of Unmaking, and he began the chase.

From world to world across a galaxy he chased her. From galaxy to galaxy across a universe he chased her. From universe to universe across the multiverse he chased her… and everywhere he trod and did not find her, he destroyed. The more that he unwove, the deeper her pain and horror, until she broke, and knew nothing else.

Then, the Library came to her, and explained that to contain this, only she would do. The Librarians brought her to a room of books. The room held every book on magick that had ever been written, in their perfect form. It contained all the books of magick that ever will be written, in all the multiverse. All the knowledge of power of the multiverse, contained in that timeless space. They took her to the room of Books, and they gave her books to drink, and drink she did.

She drank them all dry. When not a drop of ink was left upon the pages, she drank the paper and the covers, the cloth and the gold. She drank the walls and the shelves. She drank the very room, and in that moment, she Became.

When she awoke, the Room of Books was no more. She drew up her sword, and once more, she put away her grief, laid down her honor, and she hunted the mad beast her twin had become… and when she found him… she took her honor back. She unmade her other half, and in unmaking him, she unmade herself, and called it good.


Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there was a faerie. A pixy, really, and a curious sort. She knew no pain, no time. She had only one form, but it was all she needed. She was not a warrior, she was knowledge, though she was not particularly wise, for what of the demifae are? She knew of no people, only of her trees and her forest.

And then one day, she met a woman. The woman was a flame brought to life, and the woman knew nothing. However, unlike the pixy, the flame was determined to learn everything. She was curiously bright, and surprisingly passionate, and she was sure to have many adventures, and the pixy was bored. A pact was born, and the two began to travel.

So it has been for many, many lifetimes, and as time has marched on, and Faerie has retreated, the Sidhe have begun to pass. The pixy was offered a quest, and became one of the Sidhe herself when she succeeded. The fire was offered other things, and time continues to march.


Once upon a time, a short time ago, a human was born. She was born Awake. She was born with a Memory. She was born with Empathy and Power… and no idea that other humans were different. Children were afraid of her, and so her life was bitter. Her family misunderstood her, and so her life was cruel. She lived in stories, and in the woods with many fae. She conjured and she cast, and her life was magick. When she grew up, she wanted to be a witch – and when she grew up, she was one.

And then one day, she had a child – a child that she did not want, and could not escape. The man who had forced the child on her took away every option, until the only one left to her was to raise the child. She gave birth in the usual way, and it was a healthy, beautiful boy. She did not see the beauty. She saw the dependence. She saw the end of her freedom – the cage bars clanging shut.

His sound beat her ears. His needs beat at her heart. She did not love him, but she did her duty the best that she could. She tried – after all, what had happened was not his fault. She hid her pain the best she could, and tried.


Once upon a time, there was a boy. He saw the world through amazingly wise eyes. Nothing could be hidden from him, and he loved his mother. And one day, when she was doing what she could for his needs, he looked at her, and showed her herself. He showed her all her flaws, and how much he loved them. He showed her all her pain, and how much he loved it. He showed her all her beauty and her tragedy, and how much he loved it all. He showed her herself, and he loved her unconditionally… and she woke up.

Not all soul mates are romantic. Some are just that much a part of you.


Once upon a time there was a woman who remembered everything she was, because of the blue, blue eyes of an infant human male, and found her soul mate in his heart, and lost her own. Every wall that she had erected throughout all her lives came down. Every stone in her heart vanished. Her soul was laid bare, and her sword was cast away, and she was reforged to be one thing, and only one thing… and that was MOTHER.


Once upon a time, there was a Mother…

And then there was not.

There was a voice on the phone saying that the courts had judged her unfit because she could not sleep without aid, because of a doctor who hated her OWN mother, while the younger mother was still in the womb.  There was a voice on the phone saying that her family was taking her heart to another place, far away. There was a voice on the phone telling her that her meaning and her soul and her honor and her life were nothing more than empty promises made by seeds in spring, sown on the desert winds.


Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a woman who knew how to love.

I see my son three times a year. I see my family all the time. I tell them all I love them, and when I say it, I almost mean it. I look everyone in the eye, and I lie. 

I lie next to you every night, and I care. I count your breaths, and when you have a bad dream, I soothe you back to sleep. I care.

But I do not love you the way that you love me, and never have. I no longer know how.

I grieve that you have accepted me, knowing that I do not love you the way that you love me, and never will – I cannot understand how much you hate yourself that you would tie yourself to someone who cares for you, but cannot love.

I grieve that I have lost my heart and cannot ever give you what you deserve for all that you are to me – and I grieve that were I less broken and could, you would not take it.

I am safe in your arms, as I hemorrhage my heart forever – all my love is sand in the wind, and all that is left to me is grief.

I am a truly lucky woman… and I know it. But I cannot ever prove it to you.

My grief and I stay silent, on the surface – but in the Abyss of me, there is a well that never runs dry… and in the Deeps, the Keening never stops.

And we are a tragedy.