Goodbye my friend?

Make the decision to let something go. A song will no longer remind you of a breakup, seeing the person will no longer cause pain in your chest, hearing their name will no longer bring tears, happy memories may be once again looked on fondly. Make the decision and you can get there. But it is not easy. It is not linear. It is a spiral, it creeps back on you, out of the shadows. You feel the prickle on your neck, the heat move up your face and the tears threatening to spill. The sick drop in the deep of your gut, the hurt, anger and grief.

We often use this kind of imagery when talking about an ex lover, an acrimonious break up. The death of a dear loved one, deep grief of loss. Seldom about the break up of a friendship. But I am the first to attest that these deep wounds of loss that I am feeling are for the loss of a friendship that I loved, and for the collateral damage it has caused. It was a long time, long held friendship. One I thought would stand the test of time. With the demise of this once enjoyable, adventurous, always interesting relationship, so much else was irrevocably changed.

We had once worked together, our families celebrated so much together, birthdays, weddings, births, sometimes just a nice summer day was enough to bring us together. These gatherings started long before children, they morphed over the years to include children and growing families. We went from our twenties to our forties, with humour and style. Then it changed.

Can I pin point when? I think maybe now, I can kind of see when it first began to take a turn. But that has taken time for me to figure out. If you had asked me six months ago what happened and when….. I would have told a much different story. One where I am the complete victim of an unprovoked, subtle, destructive, gaslighting. One where I had no culpability to the drama. A drama that came out of no where. One where some very important relationships in my life had become collateral damage, or specific targets to destroy, meant to hurt me. A story where my trust and faith in so many people was broken, where I felt alone, unimportant, tainted by her alleged portrait of me.

At first I wanted it to just disappear, there had been so much other drama I had been dealing with, the addition of this had the potential to be crippling to me and very sacred things in my life. I decided to just ignore her, at least for the time that the drama blew up. But the ripple effects became wider and things had to come out in the open. I eventually wanted to hear her side, what was truth, misunderstood, what ever, just an explanation, a healing, a finish…something, anything. I thought maybe she would want that too. That our friendship had meant enough for her to want to sort out the mess. I reached out, I tried to ask, I was met with nothing. No one else could offer an explanation. Or wanted too.

I tried then to ‘let it go’. Tried to make peace with not knowing, make peace that few involved, seemed not all that bothered by what had happen and the destruction it had brought. I had asked that not much be disrupted on social media as our kids were friends and this did not involve them. Our connections are many and it makes life complicated. I was hopeful that a few may step up and ignore her in solidarity with me. But it did not happen. I was hoping time would soften and some type of resolution found. Nothing. I took a break from much social media, I could not handle seeing everyone else interact as though nothing had happened (even though I said it was ok, that no one owes me anything, that I can not control who talks to who, that it was a better way to handle things- but remember I do have anxiety and the gross trauma based need to please and keep things calm). My anxiety monsters feasted on the distrust, anger and sadness this brought. I did my best to contain the worst of how I felt when it bubbled up.

But my brain chewed on this, I need to try to understand, for myself at this point more than anything. In looking back, I think the slight cracks began to show at at a critical time for my friend, she was going through great loss and turmoil. ( Due to the anxious nature of my brain, I analyze things to the smallest parts, replay to try to figure things out. Sometimes it’s a handy skill, sometimes it is a paralyzing task.) I don’t think I was the friend she needed, maybe. I don’t think I was completely there for her due to the circumstances of my own life. I am sure I have some accountability. We had grown apart for some time, long before this, life was hectic. She needed support, I gave what I could, perhaps not mindful enough of what was needed. Perhaps I said something hurtful but was not mindful enough to notice and it set a poison seed. I had begun to make peace. Things were quiet, her presence seemed to diminish some.

I waited a few months. In a moment of hopefulness, and at an opportune time I tried to send her a birthday greeting, noting social media settings had been manipulated so I can see her but can not contact her. So I texted. It was met with a thank you, and that was all. No follow up, no anything. Except a bump in her presence again everywhere. Again the anxiety returned, bringing with it the ugly monsters of grief, distrust and deep sadness. Again I made the decision to ‘let it go’. I can’t change what happened. I will never understand except for the explanation(s) I have created in my own head.

The sick feeling I got when her name would pop up (thanks social media for having to show who is always doing what and where), was starting to soften. But I could feel the grief, it was hard but getting easier to move through. Until it hit again this weekend. Having to do with birthday party invites, family dinner expectations, and a semi rehash of assumed/alleged events, and the loss being felt by not only me, but my family. And her presence everywhere else increased. The sick, sad, confused feeling returned. Hopefully for a short while. But again, with the exception of this post, a break from direct social media until it ebbs and I can once again be the grown up who can handle the observation of whom is chatting, commenting or ‘liking’ and not feel hurt, sad.

I keep telling my family that sometimes we don’t ever get to understand fully what happen’s in some situations, that it can be ok to let go, disconnect from someone, wish no ill will, that life will move on and be ok. I keep telling them that truly we are not owed anything by anyone and time will move on. That at this point no answer will satisfy. That anger is pointless. And that the sadness will fade. I will keep saying it until I can fully believe it all the time, and the memories I have of all the times spent and shared can once again be seen with love and grace, not sadness and grief. That my anxiety trigger around this is temporary. That the distrust I feel with heal, and I will no longer wish that anyone will stand in solidarity (us vs them immature mentality) with me and cut her out. That I will no longer let the monsters periodically play on my self worth by feeling I didn’t matter enough to her, or to others who did not ‘choose’ to side with me.

I do believe the Universe will keep bringing us back to the same, to show us if we really have learned and/ or let go. I fundamentally understand why this is important, to teach us to really move on, to provide us healing. But I don’t have to like being brought back to this place again.

I resent that it still drives me from other connections (even if temporary), I resent the feelings that still come up, that I still have to work at it. I resent so much of this, I am grieving so many things because of this. I resent that I still want to understand why. I resent that she never tried. Today it is hard to find hope that I can move on. It is hard to hope that all of this sharp pain will dull permanently. It is hard to have hope that I will be ok with her presence and not feel the just a bit resentful and so sad. It is hard to manage the trigger this pulls for the anxiety monster that eats at me. It is hard to have hope that all the things affected by this will ever be completely righted. It is hard to not wish that she feels just as sad and hope that the loss of me matters. It is hard to quash that tiny little flame of hope that it can be saved, that it should be saved, that it was worth enough to both of us.

Tomorrow I will again choose to ‘let go’ and hope that there is a longer reprieve, that the next round is softer, shorter. Tomorrow I will again choose compassion, and hope that someone makes that choice for me. Tomorrow I will choose to wish her well.

Hey Witch, wake up!

When I was little my Nana would talk to me about my dreams and show me how some of the things I could hear and see were useful information. She taught me that I could access these things even when I was not dreaming. She taught me how to read a plain deck of cards, to see what was, is and could be. She taught me to speak to and honour the Garden Fae. How to read what Mother Nature shows us in the sky, water, fire and movement of the plants. To listen to the whispers of the trees. To cook and bake with intent and love. To have faith and humour. And to have manners and respect for all beings. She made the colours of childhood much brighter.

I lost this amazing Crone when I was twelve. The same year I lost my Mother.

I knew early on I was a Witch. I knew the wisdom that had been passed to me was ancient at its core. The small superstitions and rituals my Nana had instilled in me, took root and bloomed in me when I was a teen, as I discovered the Craft.

But I was very young, angry, sad, lonely and had no guide. I devoured what I could about Witches, Pagans, spells, rituals. I had much of it romanticized in my head, mixed up with the core connection to the Elements.
I was not a very respectful or responsible Witch. I did spells and ritual without having the respect of the meaning and connection. I wanted so bad to manipulate the energies around me for my gain, the harder I tried, the less anything good happened. It was disappointing to not be immediately gratified. It took discipline I did not have and wisdom I was too impatient to learn.

Slowly over time the shiny color of the Craft became muted. I never fully lost my connection to the Gods and Goddesses, but it was a very small, quiet piece. And life went on. Through my twenties and thirties I would call on the Tarot now and again, the odd observance of the Moon. For many reasons I kept a fairly tight lid on my calling.

As I approached the age my Mother was when she died so many things happened in that watershed three years. The year approaching, year of and the year after. This story is centred on my (re)union with the Craft.
Slowly into my 40s I began to revisit some of the childhood colours my Nana had created. I had a daughter of my own ( my Nana’s namesake), and I wanted to give her some of that so special magic. Gardening ( when there was time), honouring the Fae who would watch over our plants. Cooking with intent and love. Watching the sky, talking to the animals and hugging the trees to hear their whispers.

At 43 ( the ‘year approaching’) a fuse was lit. A small stream of air, feeding the embers that were beginning to grow in my soul. As random as the connection seemed at the time, looking back, I really don’t believe that at all. I know not the full extent of the meaning, but at the time was a catalyst for much of what was to come. But it hi-lighted the need, the draw, the pull, that I had to fall fully into ritual, cards and magic. It came on like a runaway train.

Of course at the start of this reawakening, there was the rush of familiarity, the hum of playing with Energies, calling on the Spirits of the Ethereal.
But as the ‘year of’ began to wane, the reality of how much work there was to this, the responsibilities, the knowledge yet untapped, started to set in. There was still an air of fun, play, discovery and connection. But this too, would undergo much fracture, change and alteration.
As the ‘year after’ came to pass, the lessons and detachment were becoming obvious, self reflecting and painful. That what I believed, this journey was to be undertaken not as a Solitary, but that there were others to walk at my side, was indeed false. And an unfair assumption. The harder I wanted to hold on to that rush, bright coloured, beautiful light, the faster it seemed to slip away, some reasoning understandable, some still confusing.

As yet another tidal wave of change began, and healing was sought, I fought hard to keep my faith. I opened my eyes to the truth that no one walks a journey with anyone else. We may be side by side, but perceptions and needs are never the same. We may be side by side for a little or a long time. We may part, temporarily in this life, or understand we must wait till the next to again share a piece of the path.

In this understanding I noticed something else. There was a difference this time. An evolution. That if I were to be true to my calling I needed to begin to study my relation to these Elementals and to myself, first.
Only then will I have an understanding to my relation to the world and people around me.
As I look to honour my Nana, I delve deeper into the history of where my soul comes from. My connection to the Elemental Magic grows in technicolor.

I am grateful for all that has happened, what it has stripped away, mined from the depths. I am blessed to find a home within the Craft once again. This time with more mature, respectful eyes and heart.
It’s hard to not want to share every bit of the colour, shape and sound of what I am and what I am learning with those who are similar in heart and sight. But this too is not the way it is to be at this time. There are moments, but no shared Sabbats, bread broken to share, wine/mead raised in celebration of the larger clan. I hope the time of celebration in this time will come again. But I am not alone, as the Ancients are always with me.
Until then, I study, I listen, my heart and eyes open, my hands ready to help. This journey is not easy, but it is so worth it 🔮

Blessed Be My Brothers and Sisters-

But I am not ready

Today on my mind is pain.

All those who really know me, know that my accidental choice of a career, Massage Therapist, beautifully turned into a life passion. I have been gifted to be with clients in birth, death and all states in between.

The honours I have been trusted with: life stories, vulnerability, knowledge- sacred and silly, wisdom, hurt, healing, fear, and joy. It has been such a cool, hard, interesting path. I have seen people and their perceived weakest (but the strength it took to get through it was amazing), their strongest, in pain, in triumph.

Once I realized that this is where I am at my best service, where I can do so much good, I realized this is also one of the most satisfying things I am capable of.

It has brought me to a place where I am entrusted with teaching the next generation of Massage Therapists. I have met some exceptional talents and hearts entering this field. I try to translate the wisdom I have gained over the years to them. To be humbled by what you are witnessing, whether it is an elite athlete getting back to sport, a mom reducing her pain to be able to play with her toddler, someone on their 4th battle with cancer, a Fibromyalgia patient being able to have a pain free day, or an over worked dad actively practicing self care to reduce the stress on his body and mind, or someone losing the ability to follow their passion and reimagining and finding the courage to change the life plan. There is a raw honesty we get to observe. We do our best to help the body get as well as it can. It is amazing.

The people I have touched, the marks they have left on me. I have whole families that I have been blessed to watch for the better part of two decades. I have celebrated and grieved in equal measure. Never once considering my own time may be finite.

Pain.

The therapist has become the patient.

It’s funny, I have had mental illness for most of my life that I have been dealing with, I am open and honest with all those in my life about those battles, but the other battle I have been waging for just over two years now, I have not been completely open with how I am dealing with it.

I am 46, the last 4 years are the healthiest I have ever been. I weigh 200+ pounds less than I did twenty years ago. I exercise quite regularly, I eat so much better than I did a decade ago, I actively work at my mental health. Two years ago my body told me that I was defiantly not young anymore. I have aches and pains, some related to the everyday, some to my anxiety disorder, but hey, I have access to some of the best massage, acupuncture and chiropractic out there, so healing and management are easy peasy.

I started to show signs in my right shoulder of tendonitis. Not surprising statistically, given my age, gender and career choice. I am so very lucky to have a very insightful Massage Therapist of my own. As I began to get my own regular therapy for it we realized as we ‘dug’ deeper into the tissue it was so much more. There had been long buried childhood trauma there. It would take work but I was hopeful to be fully back to myself in time. It is a blessing when a therapist can calmly walk this journey with you. To observe, compassionately adjust and continue momentum. I was making great headway, modifying certain things like exercise, but healing was happening and it was not really interfering with my job. Eight months ago I fell, redamaged the shoulder, increasing the injury and setting the recovery time back.

There was a little twitch in the back of my head that I needed to get a closer look at what was happening in the shoulder. I discovered there is damage that is permanent. So much that can be progressive in it’s destruction. At some point I will be faced with the very real possibility of surgery. But it will never be the same. There is now always some awareness of pain, sometimes it is background noise, sometimes it is so much at the forefront I can’t think. It is weak in certain ways, it makes sounds, it gets hot, it gets stuck. It now has begun to interfere with my job.

I am so lucky that I have more skills to explore and I don’t think (hope) I will have to fully stop being a massage therapist. But I am facing change. I was hopeful for a long time that with a few minor adjustments and strengthening I could be mostly back to myself. Over the last couple of months, the schedule I have been trying to keep and the daily demands I need to fulfil have shown me that I need to be realistic about what I need to/ can do.

Self care has been only consistent in the actual getting of massage, which keeps me working, and I have come to discover after missing the odd regular one that it has an incredible impact on my mental health. It is amazing to me to have had the academic/clinical impression for years of what massage is capable of but until it is experienced out of need I never really understood what a life line ie can be. I am trying to get back to how diligent I was before this happened, but I know it is hard to step out of the defeatist mind. It hurts so I can’t, well if I can’t exercise I will eat the sweet junk food that brings short term comfort, I will be angry and I will begin the cycle again.

I try to exercise but am frustrated that I can not do what I could two years ago, that it fatigues faster and can not lift what it could. Where I could see six or seven clients in a day comfortably, I find now a max of four unless I am willing to compromise the quality of what I do and create a discomfort that gives me a hard time sleeping. Add that into some of my teaching responsibilities and that number I am able to do decreases.

Everyone around me is trying to be so encouraging. “You have other things you can do.” “It’s not like you have to quit all together.” I know this is meant to make me feel better but it doesn’t.

I have worked very hard to build what I have, the relationships I have, the business I have. I know that cutting it back is not the end, but it means I am not going to be the therapist I was, the one that these people have all come to rely on. I thought it would also make me feel better if I built in some referrals that could fill in for me if my hours are too restrictive, I believe I have made great recommendations, but can’t help feeling like I have failed these people somehow. And what if I am wrong, and it proves that I actually can no longer massage at all? what about then?

It will also take time for the new skills to generate any income. So what am I supposed to do there? Bills, mortgage, school fees and life doesn’t wait.

I know people are meant to be kind, encouraging and supportive, but when I try to express genuine fear, disappointment and grief over this forced change I am given the ‘there, there’ treatment. It is well meaning I know. But damn it! This fucking sucks.

I hurt, my hands get stiff, my shoulder burns and aches so much. I’ve been so proud of what I have accomplished in this realm and do not feel like I am done yet. There are times, as I try to envision and get excited about what comes next that I feel the hot tears well up, the deep sadness in my heart that takes over everything. Add to that the frustration of the chronic pain. It can drive you mad. I cry. By myself, but the tears spill fast. What I need is for this to be seen, not with a bright side at this moment, but allow me to grieve, to be angry, recognize this fucking blows! Let me be disappointed, hug me, be empathetic, be disappointed with me- I will feel better when I have made peace, but I am not there.

I love my career, I love what I have built. I am fighting as hard as I can to maintain my place here, to take care of those that have honoured me with their trust. I know in my heart they all care for me as well. Today the pain has defeated me, made me tired, made me unsure. Tomorrow I will get up and try again, keep trying for as long as I have it in me. It is a big part of who I am.

Friends, Choices, Monsters

Sometimes I admire people who appear to have a lack of empathy, a lack of concern for others.
There are times I wish I could not feel, worry, care or hurt. Times I wish I could scream fuck this and fuck you and not care where the chips land.
But I’m not. I crave understanding ( and to be understood). The why, the how, the scope of experience that created the situation. Motivation for causing pain. Motivation for dropping seeds of deliberate discord in situations.
I try so hard to understand why I spend time on these considerations, when it seems very few around me do, other than wanting to use my anxiety disorder as an excuse for how they treat me. But rarely as a reference for understanding and empathy.

This often plays into my anxieties when I can’t get answers, my monsters will twist and pick apart a situation, creating a space for me to want to make it better at huge cost, and/or creating such paranoia that the train derails into not trusting anyone’s motivation in my life.

There is plenty of ideas out there that it can be a conscious decision. Hanging on or letting go is something to be decided- you are only stuck if you believe you are. Let go of attachment. Let go of resentment. Let go of hurt. Sounds easy. But it’s far from that.

Friends: reason season lifetime

My life in the last few years had been a whirlwind of self discovery, change, growth, dismantling and creation.
Hitting middle age and deciding to break out of toxic patterns and explore myself and the world around me has been fraught with more pain ( and beauty) than I thought.

I’ve always adored that I had a close knit crew around me. We would get together often, laughs, drinks, interesting conversation, shared life events. I believed these people would all do their best to support me as I believed I did for them.

The flux was hard, but I relied on my sisterhood to keep me standing. The long-standing friendships, the new ones being built.
We are a few years past the marked start of my passing into what I feel is my rightful version of Womanhood. So much unforeseen. While I relied on my ‘sisters’ to be my sounding boards, I believed they also understood the scope from where I was speaking. That if they believed I was far misguided in my journey they would nudge me in the right direction, not insinuate themselves into it covertly and create far more destructive vibrations.

In amidst much stuff going on, I was made aware of some things that had been put into play. These well placed and seemingly ‘concerned’ statements as well as bolder actions created a much more uncomfortable situation that did not need to exist. That, in hind sight, I should have dealt with far less humorously than I did.
I had to first deal with a fall out that came with the immediate situations. I pushed passed the hurt I felt at the time to find my footing.
But I soon realized that what had happened made me question many things. Question myself and how I am perceived. I found myself having to explain who/why I am in ways I never thought I would. I took for granted, that as people got to know me, it would be identified that my life had shaped me into a deeply feeling, dramatic, sometimes intense human. Never setting out to harm, confuse or bring ill-intent, just working at connections, depth and discovering parts about myself that I thought were pretty interesting. But all of this was framed poorly and misrepresented. When the far reaching scope came into focus I was embarrassed, humiliated and beyond hurt.

I initially tried to apply understanding and compassion- what was going on in this person’s life that warranted this interference? Was it all a misunderstanding? Considering they had mostly withdrawn from me long before this all took place, I could not fathom why they spoke from an unknowing place.

I tried asking, this being very hard for me, given my anxiety issues, but I tried. This was met with a nothing, no defence, no denial, no explanations, no outright admission, no compassion for the position I was in, or the amount of trouble this caused in my life.

So, I made a conscious decision of letting it go, there would be no answer, no resolution. Separate as best I could. Trust the healing with those that desired it.
I have to grieve the friendship that meant so much to me.

Yet it’s hard, because the spiderweb connections that bind us are still very present. I tried to do the adult thing and not ask for sides to be taken. But I think in the process I have underplayed how much this has shaken and wounded me. I was (this is a piece of my anxiety) hopeful that others that are around me would rally, be protective and let it be known it was not acceptable. I was (am) not looking for any grand gesture, any big confrontation on my behalf, but I never asked, it never happened.

The hurt surfaces every so often. I try to not get into the victim mentality. Sometimes the lines of the web seem purposely tweaked, so I’m made aware of the ties that still bind, I can’t help but feel that this is a personal poke. It awakens the hurt, anger and humiliation.
I can see where it has shaken my trust and perception of myself, others. My circle, my clan I adore, feels wobbly.
In light of this and a few other issues, my once open door, full table and social house has closed down to almost nothing.

I miss it, them, the beauty of my whole village coming together, the sense of belonging. I second guess motivation, perception and intent. I panic if I think mine has been misperceived.
There are still many in my circle I love, and would ferociously defend, and hope that they feel the same.
Even though I have made the decision to no longer fucking care ( as I screamed at the ether)- putting into practice is much harder than I realize. It is continual reminders, self talk and forgiveness. To be ok with still feeling hurt, angry, and grieve. To work at no expectation that anyone else will care that this is how I periodically feel. Someday I hope to be done with it. Someday I hope I heal from the wound. I hope that the shakiness I feel will subside and my confidence will return to what it should be. I hope to take my power back.

I believe in sisterhood
I believe in kindness
I believe in love
I believe to not compete but to uplift
I believe to build up not tear down
I have to believe