Exhausted Disappointment

I could rant here- point the finger at Jason Kenney, Tyler Shandro- Covid deniers, personal freedom without responsibility twats, science deniers, the media at large, Adriana LaGrange, those determined to make human life politic, but I am tired and really deeply sad- the best word I can think of is…….

Defeated, that is the only word that is coming to mind right now. For so many reasons I feel almost hopeless. The last straw today was having to cancel an event (again), but it’s bigger than that.

There are people I love making decisions I don’t understand. Basic human care and well being has been politicized. We are are becoming a more entitled callous hateful species, than I ever wanted to believe was possible.There is a disconnect between understanding the differences between rights, choices, freedoms, responsibilities and basic science. The distrust sewn by the grotesque rhetoric spewed by politicians has permeated every facet of life. People are exhausted, angry and frightened. I am angry, I am so very sad and I am at the point where this constant distance and exposure to the vitriol out in the world is reenforcing the very thing I am working real hard to battle. I could post another rant, but what good does that do? I can’t make people care about anyone else. I can’t battle with misinformation and manipulated facts. I can add my angry voice to the countless others wondering what the fuck is wrong with people, why people are not being rational, kind or compassionate. Why we are a society of ‘if it doesn’t directly affect me I won’t give a fuck.’ But today I don’t have the energy.

I’ve done my best to speak up, support those that are in a more vulnerable position than I. I have done my best to check in on, lend an ear, provide a space, try to remind that I care and encourage hope. And what has it gotten me? Friends too exhausted, anxious or distracted to respond. Financial instability. Can’t turn on any media with out a barrage of opinions (rarely based in fact, but bloated noise fanning the fractures). And me trying so hard to work on pre-exisiting issues, build hope, protect my family and try to find the village I have been seeking out, in what feels forever.
Something I have been planning to help my own mental health is getting cancelled yet again.

Here’s what gets me:
Just over 3 years ago, events conspired in my life that triggered crippling social anxiety- I once loved to entertain and for many reasons I lost that. But I have been working really hard to come back from that. It used to be a very important part of my life. So I had an idea for an outdoor party- invite people that I have missed for a long time, bring my little community of people I care for together and try to begin again. The Covid numbers were reasonable low, it is summer and it just might be a turning point.
There was scepticism when our current government decided that Covid was over and we should throw caution to the wind, but there was a window of time that i might be able to reconnect.

I really wanted to support a friend of mine in her singing career, I adore her songs/stories and her passion and talent. I thought how wonderful if I can include this in my journey. And everyone I know likes live music. (You can find her wonderful talent in and around Calgary, on youtube and I believe Patreon. Sonia Deleo is her name, for those I invited, I am sorry I could not personally introduce her- check her out anyway!) It took me a long time to put it together, I was so nervous to invite people, to bring everyone together. People seemed receptive. I felt I could step into this risk. Some of the people I initially invited couldn’t come, I had to work at that a little not to perceive that as personal (this is such a mental battle for me), but it was coming together.

Then the fires and smoke. It made it impossible to be outside. So we postponed. Just by a few weeks. But this would take more mental work for me, but maybe it meant that this time all the people I had wanted to come could make it.

So here we are a couple of days away…… I put out a reminder earlier this week. I really didn’t hear back from anyone, not really with a yay or nay. But I had a bad feeling once again, I had been working hard to get myself to a place where I could just be excited about the prospect of having friends together, and it turns out again it is all for naught. Thanks to the grotesque mismanagement by the government we are in a crisis they are ignoring, the numbers are high for infections and hospitals are almost at critical mass. It is now targeting children (who were not eligible to be vaccinated) and even though the vaccinated get a much milder case, we still become sick and carriers. The right decision is to cancel again. All the mental work to conquer this hill is for nothing. A lost gig for my friend. Lost opportunities to reestablish connections. A lost moment to repair some fractures caused by my mental monsters. A great opportunity for some laughter and fun and a small amount of ‘normalcy’ to be experienced.

I am angry, sad and disconnected. I don’t expect this to matter much to some of you. I imagine some of you could twist this to fit your narrative. I know many people I would turn to for support have very little left for themselves, because they too are overwhelmed, frustrated and disappointed at humanity. mI recognize that there are far more devastating things happening, there is loss of life, but this was important to me. This was part of my mental health survival.

Awkward Tales From the Shadows The Spiritual Side of Things

My Mother never baptized me. We were not a family that ever went to church. It wasn’t until she got sick that she ever brought it up- suggesting that I explore what’s out there by tagging along with my friends to their respective places of worship. The last full summer she was alive she enrolled me in a bible camp- which I was summarily sent home early from. 

My Mother was mortified but I also believe secretly a little proud- not that I had gotten caught kissing a boy at the campfire (it was nothing more than a peck- we were 11 years old for goodness sakes), but the second reason cited for my ‘release’ was my insolent nature. Even now this makes me giggle- 

One of the camp activities was learning how to clean, load and shoot a 12 gauge shotgun. After gritting my teeth through the third post shot kick-back I asked the councillor a very important question. “What does learning about a shot gun have to do with Jesus and why were we playing ‘war games’ in the woods last night?” The night before, our cabin leader gave us flashlights at sundown and our ‘mission’ was to capture the ‘rival’ cabin’s flag, but you could tag people out or capture them. No answer was forth coming to my questions.

Next thing I knew, after my little peck at the fires edge, my mother was being called and I was being told I would be going home because I was not following the rules of the camp.

It isn’t that I went with out spiritual guidance, it was just different. my mother’s mom, aka my Nana or Nan taught me much about the spirit that moves through every living being. I didn’t know it at the time, and it wasn’t until I was a teen that I understood that she was teaching me the fundamentals of some of the arts associated with the ‘Craft’. As a teen and into my early 20s I would ‘play’ at being a Witch. Doing tarot reading for my friends, a few moon ceremonies, but mostly it was a practice of aesthetic and ritual with out deep understanding. 

It was an occasional dalliance. 

As I got older and life got busy I stepped away from incorporating much from the light practice I had into my every day life. 

Yet in my core, I knew my Pagan nature.

It was about 6 years ago I began to feel the pull to begin exploring the ancient spark at my core. I was beginning a transition and I really wanted to know who I was. I began to immerse my self into remembering how to let the Tarot speak to me, how to feel the trees when they sigh. I needed to find my way back to source. There was so much moving through me. I would try to explain to those closest to me. But no one was on this particular path and it was hard to translate the humming energy I was connecting to and the way it was helping me see the world. It stayed this way for a couple of years.

One day I was boldly identified. 

“Witch”

I stopped completely, no breath no heartbeat and I am sure a look of utter flustered guilt on my face.

A quick smile and nod to the necklace I was wearing, my hand immediately reached for it, my Pagan Charm necklace, there was all manner of identifying charms, a sword, pentacle, cup, broom etc.

Breathing resumed, there was no glowing sign on my head, whew. A like mind perhaps? How cool would that be, someone who gets the thing, the magic (not to sound too cliche).

My love of the Gods and Goddesses and all things magical and supernatural permeates much of my creativity. I had found a friend that really got that imagery and the lore. Someone who let me practice tarot reads with different spreads and ideas, for a time participated in the dissection of it. Someone I could share how I was seeing the world, the imagery and magic found in nature and it’s ties to the Craft, who could see it and not need an explanation. 

I became bold and my ties to it deepened. I could feel how everything was meant to be connected. It was so exciting to feel so powerful. 

Looking back now, my fatal mistake was being so new to feeling accepted. I did not realize how much I was depending on the approval and engagement of my fellow Pagan to reassure me that this was the ‘right’ path. 

It was only when that ceased to be. That anything I considered an anchor to hold me steady had rusted and become weak or evaporated like it never existed, that I had to hold on tight and find where my faith could pull me through. 

Three years ago I entered my Shadow work. It was not a gentle entry, it was like having the rug pulled out from you and you hit the ground, knocking all the air from you. I had been so accustom to sharing and working energy together, when the circle blew apart I physically felt it. 

Two things happened then.

I felt utterly rejected for try to be something closer to who I thought I was/wanted to be. I wanted that security of having others on a similar path because I was fearful, it was exciting and comfortable to be able to share. And now I was cut free from so many of the ties I counted on to keep me here and safe. Fear shook me, I felt swallowed by the empty. 

The second thing that has happened because of this, was me diving headfirst into my self. Through that learning I could begin to access the source power. My own magic that is reflected in nature. 

That’s pretty easily said but this last three years have seen a reoccurrence of my mental health issues to a degree that I haven’t seen since my early 20s. I felt gutted, ugly, dark, putrefied. I stayed in the darkness to see what I could find and understand. At first, the intent was to fix what was wrong with me. To get a handle on what was so horrific about me that I was easily thrown away. I was also intent on learning how to create better protection magic. My Spiritual practice is very embedded in my mental health work (that will be a separate entry). I believe, for myself I would not be able to take on the self work I have been doing with out having a place with in myself that is anchored and connected to all that is. 

Ritual has become more of a mainstay for me. Yes I do share some readings and still shots of ritual on social media. There is so much I leave out of those posts, I never include an incantation or spell, or any reference to my personal goal for the ritual. I study. The history, the now and the future of Paganism. I study different schools of philosophy. I look to the tarot for clarification. I do my best to touch and sit with the quiet of nature and look for the signs from the Gods and Goddesses that I am in alinement. 

I have been learning so much about myself through my Practice. I have begun to feel some healing and self forgiveness, it builds a little each time I do Ritual. I am learning how powerful I truly am. I am learning how resilient my heart is and how much steel is really in my spine. 

I have again, I’ll be it slowly, begun to see the magic that resides in the sky, the flowers, the way the clouds move. I am stumbling still with the human factor, but I am starting to be comfortable in recognizing that it does not make me any less whole. 

This Witch is proud. This Witch is humbled. This Witch has so much to learn. This Witch knows the Gods have her back. This Witch knows what it means to be part of the vast and noble Pagan family. Being this Witch helps me navigate the shadows. Being this Witch helps me hang on to the light that I contain as well.

Awkward Tales from the Shadows- Pain Contemplation

‘You deserve to be pain free.’

This statement has been sitting with me for a few days. A simple statement. One that felt like it had been in a foreign language I had never heard. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I hadn’t believed it to be true. A statement that pierced something deep- my reflex was to just talk/excuse over it. But here it sits, still rolling around my brain like a loose marble.

These last few years have been really hard on my body. I have been hard on my body.

My mental health monsters cause physical pain.

Past and current injuries sometimes sing in unison, sometimes compete for the lead.

There is not a day where I am not aware of something, burning, aching, stabbing, tightening….

It is not as though I don’t do anything for the pain I feel.

But the levels are now consistent and high enough that over the counter pain relievers don’t do a lot.

I still use them, along with multiple other things to help keep me functioning in my life. I use hot and cold, stretching, topical potions, cbd/thc and massage. Most giving me a few hours of decreased pain, massage being the one that brings better, longer relief, yet still temporary. The one thing I haven’t added in was any form of prescription pain relieving narcotic.

I have a complicated history with most pharmaceuticals. They often don’t do what they are meant to in my body. My genetic history is riddled with mental health and addiction markers. I am very reluctant to use strong pain relievers, especially in the opiate family.

‘You deserve to be pain free’

So why did this statement hit me so hard?

It was nothing I had considered before. My reasoning makes sense in many ways. Worry about side effects, cost and the biggest worry falling into addiction. It has me contemplating my hard stance.

That statement reminded me it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That with care, consideration and proper support, it is an avenue that may be of service to me.

That gentle statement has led me to contemplating more…..

Do I punish myself? Am I resigned to carry this physical discomfort with restricted relief.? Why is this ok? How do I allow this with myself? Do I feel supported? Where do these barriers come from……

Deeper into the shadows I go for more answers.

When the Levee in My Head Breaks

The screaming in my head leaks out

Every sensation amplified and painful

Control is lost

Monsters move in

I can’t speak words

I cry, rage, fear, disappointment

Irrational

Shaking till it feels like I will explode

Curl tighter and tighter into that ball

‘I’m sorry’ are the only words that can be made of out the mush in my mouth

Why sorry?

For all the things I’ve ever (not) done

For breaking

For being

What triggered this? You want to know- all of it, none of it- the crowded loneliness in my head

The work I’ve done, today feels for naught

I am so far away- what do you need? I’m asked. I don’t know -comes the swift reply

I need this to stop

I need to be truly heard

I need quiet in my head

I need the pain to go away

I need the weight of responsibility lightened

I need to be held together till the shaking stops

I need it to be recognized it was never all mine, even though I took it, it was never all mine

Not praise nor encouragement for accountability

But understanding it’s too much and it was never all mine

I make a deal with the monsters, they can have their space,

just give me enough clarity to keep one foot in front of the other, a thought or two and a dry eye when others are near.

Fix the mask once more- temporarily hope it holds. Ignore the discomfort, swallow the bile building in my stomach.

Let’s just play pretend on more day.

Awkward Tales from the Shadows- Start Point

Other stories on this blog do a decent job of explaining a few things about me. As this journal progresses I imagine so much more will be revealed. But a little back story to what brought me to this ‘start point’.

I’m firmly entrenched in midlife, chronologically but in my head I still feel like I’m in my early 20s- I’d like to think that is perpetuated by my eternal curiosity.

I had a lot of trauma in my younger years. I have GAD ( generalized anxiety disorder) and CPTSD, those two combined at time are a big rollercoaster of hellish fun.

I struggle with chronic pain, some resulting from my mental health issues, some from old injuries and sadly I’m sure some is a little from age.

I am a practicing Pagan, a Grey Witch ( if such a title is needed).

I am a survivor of rape and abuse.

I work as a massage therapist, energy healer, teacher, tarot reader, intuitive and writer.

I am a mother to an incredible teen daughter and a biological mother to an amazing young man.

I am a wife, sister and friend.

I am amazingly strong and easily hurt.

I have hope that seems to stay like a beacon of light even when I feel taken down by despair

How did I come to the ‘dark night’ awakening?

I can not pin point one moment, but a cascade of things.

I dreaded my 40s for as long as I could remember, a fatalistic view really. My mother died at 44, I was 12. That death shadow hung over me, somewhere in my head I had always believed I too would be gone young. To that end, I did enough for my mental health to ‘survive’ to keep a lid on all the poison. I had fooled myself into believing I had a handle on my ‘stuff’. Because honestly could someone who didn’t ‘have it together’ how could I achieve so much?

I thought I had begun to do positive work, building a strong life.

Just after my 45th birthday there was a tipping event involving betrayal, abandonment, humiliation and a break down of self.

I was so lost, just trying to make it through the day and fill the expectations of the roles I play. My anxiety was getting worse, social anxiety symptoms that I hadn’t experienced in years took me down hard. To complicate matters, within a year, as a planet we entered a pandemic that is ongoing and we are feeling the acceleration of the effects of climate change. The darkness and fear was closing in. The grasping of things, friends, comprise of self, use of substances for escape all becoming a sand trap I was silently drowning in.

The cross roads epiphany struck like lightening ‘work through this, find your life spark or face soul and/or real death.’

First came the stacks of books, workshops and podcasts. I journaled, I had recognitions, insight and so much, however the amount of information and emotion surfacing became overwhelming.

Then the inner knowledge I need help filtering the all information in relation to myself. Due to the tipping event I did not feel that anyone in my circle was a reliable source of deep support. Also knowing that I was entering a place of really wanting to be able to observe myself with a ( hopefully loving) critical eye, professional help was needed. This was hard for me, I had not done therapy since I was a kid, I’d always believed I was self sufficient/smart enough to work through my things with books, workshops and podcasts. Finally making that decision, I was choosing self love. The Shadow work was really about to take a deep direction.

And so it began…

What is ‘Awkward Tales From The Shadows’ about?

Hello readers,

Until now this blog has been a stream of consciousness for me, often revolving around my battles with anxiety, some poetry and a few political rants. I’m going to add a couple of other streams of writing. I’m searching for my bravado to start adding some of my fiction to this site, and that will come. But the newest addition is going to come in a journal type format.

It will be identified under the heading of Awkward Tales from the Shadows. This is my journey of healing, determination, acceptance and accountability.

I am aiming to have a narrative about what I’ve actually been doing to work through my dark night ( well a three year night, but who’s counting) of the soul. The Shadow work I’ve undertaken, the revelations that have come from therapy, the revelations that have come from diving into my Pagan spiritual work and the physical work I am undertaking and how all of these things intersect in the relationships I have with others and myself.

I do not have a degree in psychology, I am not a doctor, what works for me, may not be suitable for you, dear reader. I am not writing this as a how to guide, each of our journeys and needs are unique, there is no shame in medications, therapy or any other help or healthy tools you need to grow in your life.

The truths are mine, the perceptions are mine. The losses and victories are mine.

Some people won’t like this, and that’s ok. This isn’t for them. I’m not writing this to punish or blame anyone- we all affect each other. I will not name people outright. But if they’ve had a part in my journey, for good, bad, ugly or a combination of all, then they will appear here. There are wonderful moments and people that have also had an enormous effect in shaping who I am. These are just as important to acknowledge as the trauma side of things. There are things that have happened to me that were not fair, kind or wanted. I do not have false gratitude for these events, but what I am working on is appreciating what I have been capable of doing to survive.

I’m on a mission. For myself, for my children and for anyone that may find a kindred spirit or inspiration in what I’m doing. This may not be easy, it may not be pretty, but I also know it will not all be heavy and dark.

“Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality. One learns so much just from living a lifetime. Share that knowledge with the people you come across, it can only help them in their journeys. Even more important, share your failures so that others will not repeat them.” Jordan Lejuwaan

Things I can not say

That moment when the dam burst 
And you held me tight 
I apologized for breaking
You gently glued the pieces right
That was the first time I could lean 
You offered a shoulder so steady
That was the first time I was seen 
In darkness and in light 
You’ll never know the value of 
What you did for me 
No matter the distance between us 
Always loyal, will I be

Waking in an Anxiety Attack

Wake up from a dead sleep

So many thoughts I can’t grasp one

No breath

Feeling I’m going to split apart

Gulping for air

Fear

The smallest I can go

Arms wrapped around my self

Knees tightly into chest

Nothing slows

The speed of every impulse rushing through

So fast it may just disappear

The fog of everything and nothing

Sickness rises

From a dream? From life?

Try to count

Try to focus

Try to pray

Lose track of the mantra I cling to, to tie me down

Muscles armour, the shell protecting the insides from coming out

Smaller still

Jaw so tightly clenched, small moans escape

Inside the skull deafening screams fill the void

In the darkness I wait for the light to return

No Longer

I no longer fit.

Every title

Every category

you’ve ever given me

no longer applies

by your terms.

In the same breath

to cross my lips

would be

thank you fuck you

It’s been exhausting to

Please

Defy

You –

much is met with indifference

Horror

Admiration

I shrank to meet your comfort

I bloomed for your

Entertainment

I died a thousand times

To be remade in desired image

Ignored

Bled dry

Imprisoned by Worship

Impaled by disdain

I no longer fit

I will grow

I will learn

Defined

by my own Terms

Opaque

Where does this empty come from?

What am I looking for?

Maybe… it’s nothing? But it feels like everything

Why is the validation so needed- to prove I am here? I exist? I made a difference.

I imagine this is what a ghost feels like

A neat anomaly- presence sometimes detected

Rarely seen

Rarely heard

Do they go on day to day? Doing their ghostly things to keep them busy. Hoping for relief from the empty where they are stuck. Do they hang around to see if their existence made a difference? Do they feel the same there as they did in life?

Maybe I am a ghost. Doing ghostly things. Sometimes being heard by those who are sometimes sensitive- sometimes being seen when it’s time for parlour tricks.