Vision of Rage, Blind Faith

People talk as though they long for the good old days- What exactly were those? Women and People of Colour being considered property? But hey a loaf of bread was maybe a nickel! Dying from the black plague? Polio? But hey, the government didn’t mandate what went into your body. Back when you could trust politicians? Yup….. Just as much as you could trust ‘The Church’.

Times were better when we all had god in our lives… was it? Being ruled by guilt and shame is what has created the now. Exorcisms rather than mental health help. Repressing sexual feelings, condemning sexual identity. For what? To please a complete fallacy. Jesus was not white, if we are made in the image of god, then god embodies both genders and by default is two-spirit. Lucifer was only in the wrong because they (remember in the bible angels have no gender) dared question the wiseness of a god that gave his puppets free will.

You are longing for a time you don’t really want.

You would give up in-home plumbing and sanitation? Central heating? Being able to get fresh mango in the middle of the winter? Looking up a map complete with directions, no creative folding required? Your car? Being able to fly to a foreign country in a matter of hours rather than months?

Fucking hypocrites.

All people are longing for is to have their conveniences, self entitlement and inflated self importance to go unabated and unchallenged. Too afraid to really see what’s going on, because, please say it isn’t so, we might have to take some accountability.

Don’t get me wrong, I thing faith is really important to have, the belief there there is something bigger that binds us to all living creatures. But using your ‘faith’ to deny that we have fucked up our chances of a long survival on this spinning marble (fuck you flat earthers, I can’t even go to how stupid that is). Using that faith to condone/facilitate another’s death or denial of existence is grotesque. To use it to selectively deny science that ‘infringes’ on your wants, takes us into another dark age of considering scientists heretics that should be burned at the stake.

I am in a relatively safe place right now, but we are surrounded by Provences and States that are literally burning to the ground. The temperature is consistently high for long stretches of time, drying out the forests, evaporating the bodies of water that sustain us. And what the fuck do I wake up to? Idiots claiming that these fires are set by arsonists. People washing their cars, when we have been asked to conserve this resource as best as we can. Here I am doing my best to keep my veg garden going with using as little water as I can, making sure I am not using toxic chemical that seep into the ground water. Silly me- its a conspiracy, evil coral reefs selling out to corporate America. Damn faulty thermometers pretending the Ocean temperatures are getting warmer. That might hit differently when you won’t be able to get your favourite sushi because the fish dies out.

Looking to history, there was a little thing called the fall of the Roman Empire, we are in the midst of a modern redux. Politics has again become full of bloated out of touch rich twats- modern emperors and pretend titans sucking the ‘lesser thans’ dry. The schism between the rich and the poor is a divide that no matter how large your boot straps are you can’t pull your way out of.

We are so soft with modern convinces that the thought of having to go ‘with out’, even if it’s for the good of all, turns us into selfish monsters. The clutching of the pearls and a collective ‘how dare you!’

I don’t own slaves…. Nope but you benefit from a system put in place by the European conquers.

I have nothing against the LGBTQA community but why do I have to see it everywhere?…..because they exist, and for the last couple of hundred years or so they have been ignored and dehumanized and forced to watch the prevalence of heteronormative culture. Many Pagan, non Christian cultures appreciated, recognized and even revered many of the genders through out the ages. It’s not new, it’s not abnormal, it just is.

Everyone seems to have neurodivergence ‘things’, it’s just ways of people making excuses, this wasn’t a thing when I was a kid…. Sorry again ‘Chad and Karen’ that kid you knew growing up that was shunned, beat up and mercilessly picked, had drug and/or behaviour problems simply had a brain were are now beginning to understand and create workable places for.

I’m sick of hearing about peoples feelings, everyone has anxiety and its a little sad sometimes….. and here we are again, finally recognizing things that we can work on, things that are very real and debilitating, perhaps with hope that we reduce addiction and abuse situations.

Life is uncomfortable. Life is challenging. Life is unstable and fragile. I get that all of this anger, hate and abject violence is simply a reflection of fear. The Fear that we need to, have to change and we have no idea what that looks like. It is challenging all the things we have been told, reflection on the things we have done and showing us what we need to do. But fuck, I don’t want to have to, I just want to do what I want, I have been told that it is my right, damnit!

These things are other peoples problems, it is the ‘others’ that caused these things. This is what happens when you take god out of the situation. No, this is what happens when you’ve been gone from the village too long. This is what happens when you forget that at the core we all need water, air, food, love and to belong somewhere. That each human with the skin stripped away look essentially the same. That in order to live we need the water to be clean, the air to be breathable, the diverse animal and plant life to be sustained.

Our survival depends on how we treat our most vulnerable. Our survival depends on the realization that monetizing everything is killing us. Our survival depends on recognizing the failings in our history and committing to do better. Our survival depends on recognizing our line of enough and be willing to share. Our survival depends on understanding that we can have faith, and that science does not need to be the opposite of that. We need to understand that we need to clean up our mess. What ever God(s) you believe in, something created this delicate ecosystem that sustains our little lives in this vast universe. We should be humbly caring for this, for us, for all of us.

If your god tells you different, if your god tells you a fetus is worth more that the woman carrying it, if your god tells you that only a few are worthy of his love, if your god tells you that you hold dominion over all, if your god chooses wealth over humanity, than you are the problem

If your politician tells you they were chosen by your god be wary of bearing false idol worship, If your politician has an us vs them mentality they are a false leader, if your politician is not receptive to you, helpful to you and only fans the hate in your heart, they are the embodiment of evil.

I am not perfect. I don’t do this right all of the time. I am constantly learning. I am as frightened as everyone else. I am angry too. But I am not letting that guide me to any thing other than making change for a world that I want my child to flourish in, that I want to feel peace in, that I want to experience the magic it holds. I am sad, frustrated, but I am also amazed at the good that is out there. We are surrounded by fires and some people here are opening their homes, offering what they can. Some are changing their beards and gardens to more eco friendly, food producing spaces. There are some embracing cultures, genders, neurodiverse understandings wit grace and willingness to learn, to make different where they can.

You don’t have to understand it, you don’t have to be it- you just have to have the faith in the thing that binds us all.

The Game That Got Me Back Writing

Write. Why are you not writing? Just make the time. It should be easy. You work from home. You can arrange your schedule……. Words rattle around my head. Yeah- it should be easy. Just sit down and do it… Oh wait, laundry has to get done. Why do the dogs shed so much hair? Better sweep that up. Did I pay bills? Better check. Oh now the dogs need out. My first appointment of the day is in an hour. I should make sure I am ready. “Mom” the elusive teen down the hall is summoning me…. Just write.

Write your blog, free thought, that has to go faster right? It used to, now I worry. All because of a double edge sword. As a child I was devastated that no one in my family seemed interested in any thing I wrote. And write I did. Plays, stories, and reams of poetry. I had mentors that entered me in contests and encouraged me. Teachers, authors and playwrites, all helping me along, reading, critiquing, inspiring. But a giant chasm existed, no parents or family ever read or saw anything I had done. A few friends were encouraging, but even fewer read the pieces.

This has carried through to adulthood.

In a way this made my writing safe, at least if the people who know me aren’t reading anything, then I can be truthful in my writing with out having to defend or explain myself.

In fiction I can disguise aspects of people in characters. Writing here, I don’t name anyone specific, no physical description, at most a vague amalgamation of a few people and experiences. I do that on purpose, as I am only telling my part of the story, I do not claim to understand anyone else’s motivation or perspective. I am sharing my story and experience, knowing that my mental health can skew how I see things and I am very upfront about that. It is with the hope that it can entertain, enlighten or create thought and positive action in others, maybe someone won’t feel so alone.

There are times, rare, but it has happened, that someone closer to me, will read what I have written and believe that the piece may be about them. In reality if I were to directly write about any one person at length, I would let them know. When someone feels I have depicted them, I can not control their perception of my meaning, and at times I have been made to defend and/or delete something I have written because it was interpreted to be a slight or unfavourable description. From my view point what I have written was my reaction/ interpretation of that situation, I do not infer their reasoning or motivation, but no one wants to think they are a villain of sorts. This is the other edge.

The funny part is that both sides equally trigger a very similar type of anxiety. On one hand, the devastating feeling of not mattering, of being invisible, unheard and invalidated- when my closest (from the start of time) do not read or seemingly support what I do in a deep way. On the other is having my words invalidated, misunderstood, twisted and denied, once it has been read by someone who ‘knows’ me. I freeze and the words dry up.

This does not just affect my journal type blog but any form of fictional narrative I may be toying with. So many story starts in multiple files on my desktop. The closest one that has legs was one that was co-written, a short form and a larger unfinished piece, destined to remain one of the great unfinished works, but miracles happen.

It’s been 4 months since I have written, I froze up in March, save for one political piece. It is now July. I have been trying so hard to break through this cement block. Normally I would start in the blog, but it was causing me great anxiety. I was starting to feel overfull, constipated might be the better description. The words wouldn’t come, but the noise in my head was building. I was second guessing any tale I wanted to tell, fact or fiction.

A little crack started in the cement. A comment made in passing months ago. I had started to collect pictures of random things again (old buildings, unusual plants, all manner of weird.) Sometimes these items trigger a narrative or character idea I may use to write, it is a habit I started in high school as a way of inspiring stories for myself. On occasion I will share with the DM (dungeon master) of a D&D campaign I have been a part of for a little over a year. He is an exceptionally rich story teller. As I find these oddities interesting I thought perhaps he too would find narrative inspiration. In one of these exchanges he said he thought I would make a decent DM. I demurred immediately. But that little arrow of a seed lodged itself somewhere deep in my grey matter.

It took hold, my curiosity of the mechanics of the game started growing, all of a sudden I had so many more questions than I usually did as a player, and I had plenty to start. Inquiring about platforms, rules (so many rules) ideas…. My poor, wonderfully patient friend, fielding every question, some repeated often for clarity, with patience, direction and encouragement. I toyed with who to bring together, people I wanted to know better who intrigued me with their stories and conversation. That decided, and met with enthusiasm I set out to try this collaboration fiction adventure. A small trickle of a story began in my head, a potential of a worthy adventure is coming to mind. I am fortunate to be mentored with this, it is daunting but at the same time it widened the crack. So here I am, back to the blog.

So why am I not writing? This is my passion, this is my soul and yet I go for long stretches where no words will flow, not even into my personal journal. I was frozen, fearful from an experience of having my word misinterpreted, of having to try to explain to no avail, ultimately feeling crushed.

Then this small seed planted in passing, perhaps only remembered by me, has made all the difference at this point in my life. The words are beginning to flow, the free thought here, but also the fantasy part of my brain is bubbling over, more questions and so many ideas. My poor DM mentor……

I want this to stick, for me and for what I want to share. I want to grow and get better at this craft. My craft. This is where I must hold steady, be prepared to be misunderstood, be prepared to have to defend and not let it shut me down. This also becomes more of a battle front with the mental demons that plague me. It is those demons that make me back down, create distrust in my talent and focus on the support I want but do not feel like I am getting.

I must continue to learn to trust the worlds I can build will be engaging and whole. I must write for me. Not to please another soul. I must write what I find interesting, what I feel is important, what pulls at my heart and plays in my imagination. I must run with the inspiration that lives in my everyday.

The juggling of time will be hard, but I must make it work. I must demand that I get the space and time to let grow this sacred thing I have carried in me since childhood. It is a part of who I am, it should no longer be shelved for when there is time….Not only have I committed to creating for others a place to adventure and explore, but my own lived stories need to come out. Along with this need to create, I also feel like I’m starving. Reading everything I can for the game, reading fiction that draws me in, listening to podcasts, audiobooks and varied genres of music, pulling it all in and craving more.

Write. I will steal moments, like now. I will carve out where I can. I will do my best to not let this passion consume me, to still be balanced, to take care of the needs of the home and work. There will always be an excuse not to, but it is important to hang on to the reasons why this is important to do.

Thanks for reading oxoxox

Dear AB residents who did not want this. The election in Alberta

We can take today to be confused, angry and disappointed. We can wonder how people worry more about money but not about the most vulnerable in their communities. We can be wounded that it feels like people’s basic needs are not as important as ravaging the earth for commerce. We can, for a moment take this personally.

What we CAN NOT do is give up. We can dream that ‘elsewhere’ will be better. But it’s not. This ideology is seeded everywhere.

What we must do…. Fight, education and appeal. The majority was NOT a landslide, that means, there are many of us who feel the community and working to the greater good is important. We must come together and use our voices ( it still is a democracy) and our actions to keep this government in check. Educate those around us about the cost of doing business with the UCP. Appeal to the basic humanity of those supporters when it comes to marginalized people.

It feels exhausting, it feels easier to pack up and go, but what we are saying then, is that we are only willing to care for each other when the majority makes it easier, not when times are tough and the vulnerable need it more, not to be abandoned.

Take the time to find balance, it’s out there, there are people and programs doing great things. Find them, amplify and support them. Yes we need to point out the ick and gross treatment/ideals and methods of the far R, but make the community minded people heard as well.

For every ‘can you believe this 💩’ angry post you do, I challenge you to amplify 1 or 2 ‘look at the amazing things people are doing’ posts. We can do this.

?Me!

What is the body?

Flesh Muscle Nerves Blood Bone

Is this me?

Does it just house what is me?

Spirit Soul Memory Wisdom Love

Is this me?

What happens to the body touches the spirit, soul, leaves a memory

The sensation of love

The creation of wisdom

Not all that happens to the flesh leaves a mark

On the soul spirit

Sex may just set the flesh on fire but not deep longing/love in the soul

The body can be ‘perfect’ and house a twisted broken spirit soul

The body can be ‘broken’ and house in incredibly wise, beautiful, soul spirit

They are temporarily bound together

Each very separate but needed to create the whole

This is me

Containment Disaster

I search for stillness

There is fire burning with in

But the noise keeps the heat contained

It’s burning like a fever

To fuck

To create

To run screaming searching for an entry to the Ether

I search for stillness

The fire threatens an explosion but the noise and distractions don’t stop

Embers become white hot

Being dissolved from the inside

So much to get out

Words, feelings, colour

Need to touch, speak, release

This is not living when the spirit is contained ignited and starving for space and oxygen

Catch Up, Before We Begin, Again

It has been so long since I have written here, so much has happened. There are parts of me that feel I am in the same place. Yet I am not. In less than two weeks I will be fifty…50?!

I am told this is a big birthday, I feel this is a big birthday- but I am not entirely sure what this means. Do I start playing bingo? Is this the time to be acquiring sweatshirts with cute cats on them? Do I become louder? More staunch in my opinions? Do I loose my sexuality? Do I get taken less seriously because of my age, too old to matter? Do I begin to wear obnoxiously bright clothing and large chunky jewelry? Do I start fighting the aging process with all the science at my disposal? Do I give in and let gravity melt me into a doughy Shar Pei version of myself?

Was I supposed to prepare more for this landmark moment in my life? I have made some changes in the last couple of years, not consciously because the five-oh was on the horizon, but because it felt natural and right.

I took a deep dive examination of self. Fifteen months of weekly therapy to try to figure out all the WTF in my life. Is everything all better, no more anxiety, no more chains of CPTSD? Do I know all now? No, if anything I have created a few more of those WTF questions, but what I have learned, has changed how I deal with them. I have a deeper understanding of myself. Better control, if you will, of the negative self protective mechanisms that I have built up since childhood. There has been some loss because of this, that will be touched on in other missives, the loss of a ‘best’ friend, other long time friends as well. New boundaries and the exploration (all be it nervously) of my own voice in real life, not just on the page.

I am more dedicated to healthier measures. A switch in physical goals, the primary no longer being weight loss, but maintaining/improving movement and strength. For the most part, eating healthier, but not restrictive or denying of foods. I need more work in this area, damn tasty chocolate and soft doughy carbs! There has been a massive shift in alcohol consumption, given my family history, I am surprised that my drinking never caused huge problems, but it was heavy and binged often. Now, once in a while a glass or two of wine, the occasional gin. Not the same as when I would look so forward to Friday and opening a bottle or two, thinking of an excuse to have wine during the week, ordering the next glass before I was finished the first, eagerly awaiting the dull fuzzy warmth that will follow with glass 2, 3 and 4….

Therapy taught me to sit with the feelings, good or bad. To seek out the origin, to be compassionate with myself and to not allow it to carry me away. This takes time, it is hard and doesn’t always feel successful. However, the after effects are far less troublesome than the headache and sour stomach of too much wine and blank spots where I am not sure what was said or done.

I posed naked last year for an art project- that too will be its own missive, I suppose it was my way of making peace with this body that has been through so much. To allow myself some grace that it is not perfect, it is lumpy, soft and dimpled. But it has produced 2 beautiful children and carried me on all the good adventures I have. It has brought me as much pleasure as it has pain. I have settled into (and truthfully looking forward to) the greying of my hair. I stopped colouring about 3 months ago. On the flip side I have added much more colour to my body, it has become a canvas for tattoos of symbols, spells and markers of who I was, am and aspire to be.

One of my tattoos has two quotes, “I must write to empty my head or I go mad” (Byron) and “I create therefore I live” (a variation of a Misha Collins/GISH statement). Ready or not this is my story. Fifty feels like it is the doorway, leaving something behind and stepping into something new. Shall we…….

Rage ( Pt2, the Kicker)

The kicker

I’ve worked so hard from where this knocked me to the last time I was finding ‘self’.

I built hope

Hope that there was misinformation and miscommunication that could be healed

But I was so far down, buried in shame

Things I held true disintegrated like my hard fought ability to trust

But I resolved to build, trusting the vision I had would come, it feels like it is meant to be. The feelings of love in my heart would build a better foundation

Every baby step I make, a look or breath of a word can knock me down.

I resolve to lead by an example.

I resolve to lead without shame

I resolve to stay open to love and trust

I resolve to stop letting myself down and treasure the very humanness I am told is what shines ( not shame as the whispers say)

Rage -venting the feelings (pt 1)

Rage

Don’t pay me lip service

If you ask me what I need

That is not enough – not without action

If I ask you to come to my playground because I’m always at yours

Don’t decline because it ‘doesn’t suit you’

Raging about my gender will upset me

Raging with out room for learning and compassion will shut me down

Making it know that parts of me, things I care for and hold dear are ‘not your cup of tea’ so

you ignore them completely, shows me you do not accept me for who I am

Your rage breaks me apart. My shame can bury me. This time my rage will help me rise

Here we are again

You only listen when you like what I have to say

you only look when it suits you

you will talk and talk and talk and talk

and it doesn’t seem to matter

the parts of me that make you uncomfortable

the parts of me that frustrate you

the parts of me that are trying to grow and express

Are time and time again

told

too much

there are times I can carry this

use it to fuel me to keep growing

there are times when it guts me

and leaves me bleeding on the floor

unseen unheard unalive

Not an Inconsequential Slip (ATFS)

Learning how to work with my nervous system is not an easy journey. Just when I think I might have the hang of understanding my triggers and feeling pretty secure in knowing what throws me and the tools I have to undo an anxiety attack I get reminders I don’t know shit and the damage I believed was scarred over enough to be considered healed is not.

This past weekend we had a random act of violence directed at our home. The place where I should feel safest. 1:30 in the morning and some shit head decided kicking our front door and screaming fuck you before squealing off in their car was a good (fun) idea.

The police, in-between informing us how weird it was, felt it was random or a case or a wrong address. Not that, that made me feel any better- my heart paused for the intended victim. For anyone this would be a nerve wracking experience, but my family seems relatively calm and went back to feeling pretty secure with in a day. It has almost been five days and I am feeling like I am on fire.

Let me tell you, that hard crack of the door frame breaking, woke up a long sleeping panic twitch in my head.

I grew up in a house that was fraught with subtle and not so subtle violence, cycles that continually repeated in my early relationships. As a child/ young woman I was often in hiding or on the run until the dangerous moment passed. I spent almost a decade of my young life being stalked and ambushed. There were many times when that same door breaking crunch was followed by threats, screams and violations of my safety.

It has been almost 30 years since I had to worry about being followed, watched and in danger. Have I become complacent? In a way I suppose. I felt it was what normal is supposed to be. We lock our doors at night and when we aren’t home. We have taught our daughter to be vigilant about her safety. I have worked very hard to not ‘go overboard’ or be paranoid given the history I grew up with. There is always a shadow that follows me.

I have CPTSD and anxiety. I have managed reasonable well. I succeed and fail epically with equal measure. Understanding that most of my ‘triggers’ are modes of (lack of) communication, lack of sleep, burnout and financial triggers. My daily mental health struggles cause body pain, brain fog and lack of concentration, but for the most part I am managing. It is not perfect but it is a far cry from what it was years ago. I don’t mask anymore, I give myself grace on bad days and make use of the tools I have created.

CRACK- FUCK YOU

And I have done just that.

Sleep has been tricky, falling asleep and staying there, not twitching at every noise, not dreaming about the past darkness that created this. Trying to keep my thoughts from running away. Not wanting to lock my daughter in her room and lay off my (over blown) fears on to her. Holding back tidal waves of tears that just come on. Feeling the phantom pain from every injury I sustained in that time of my life. I thought the pain I felt these last few years when ‘triggered’ was bad, but it ain’t nothing compared to the last few days.

Every ancient bruise, cut, break is screaming at me in the moments I try to find quiet.

I was doing so well working with silent moments in my head, a relief that I had started to become accustom to. But right now I have music screaming into my headphones (Thank the Gods for Dave Grohl howling the pain I am feeling for me) to counter the screaming monsters.

I am bouncing from project to project. Probably annoying the eff out of people with bombing them with memes or random bits of conversation, keeping myself distracted from the old fear sitting in my stomach.

Along with this horrible feeling of not having control I am so angry. I fight so hard to be well, to not let these things drag me to the pit of self destruction. One stupid prank or ‘wrong house’ and I am on an exceptionally slippery slope. I can’t explain the depths this has pierced. Fuck you, you asshole who thought this was relatively harmless, or funny even. At other points in my life this could have taken me to a much darker place that I am currently fighting my way out of. But this is bad enough.

I will do my best in the coming days to reset my system, to have grace with myself. I will keep expressing my needs. I will keep trying for positive distractions. I will just keep trying.