Seventeenth.

“Don't you understand that we need to be childish in order to understand? Only a child sees things with perfect clarity, because it hasn't developed all those filters which prevent us from seeing things that we don't expect to see.”-Douglas Adams

So it is with heavy heart that I announce I am infertile. My polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) is so rampant. I had an ultrasound a week ago or so, and my right ovary is so overrun with cysts and you can’t see the ovary beneath them.

I have a daughter. She is almost six. So while my biological clock is no longer ticking as I approach my 26^th birthday, I am still in mourning for the future. I wanted my little one to have siblings. Granted, she will probably have some through her father. Still, I wanted to have my own family with her.

Spiritually, I am lamenting the unreliability of my menstrual cycle. As a pagan and Goddess-worshiper, I grieve for the loss of my moontime. As a woman who has a passion for women’s spirituality and women’s sexuality, I feel that the loss of a regular moontime is symbolic of my inability to regulate my life. My entire life is unpredictable. My job, my ability to make money, my future. As someone with bipolar disorder, routine can make all the difference in the world. And I seem to be fighting it.

Overall, my mood is one of heartbreak. There is one shining light in this dark place that I have found myself, but I cannot reveal it here just quite yet.

The moon is waning. I will be banishing this darkness on the new moon with a ritual bath and devastatingly thorough housecleaning and smudging. On the full moon, I will be asking the Goddess for help finding myself, my femininity, my wild woman.

At least I don’t feel that I am alone. 

Seventh

Stood out in the rain.

Let it soak me down,

Before I called you...

I called you.

You did not see me there,

Hidden by the dark,

Beneath your window,

But I saw you.

When putting on a face for the mirror on the wall.

Dreaming that the looking glass is you.

Catching my fondest gazes;

Living through my fickle phases.

I love you.

Spend my time on 'phones,

Tryin' just to talk,

But you didn't answer...

You let it ring.

Spend my nights alone,

Catching fallin' stars,

To give to you, love.

They're just for you.

Stars fall every time a lover has to face the truth.

And far too many stars have fell on me.

And as they trail the skies,

And burn their paths upon my eyes,

I cry.

And it's getting easier, each day, to weep about you.

Harder, every night, to sleep without you.

How many years must I be,

Driven by this dream of love with you?

It’s been a rough couple of weeks for me. I haven’t been able to blog much. The other day, I was finally able to cast a spell for the first time in months. It was an empowerment spell, and I called on my spirit guides and patron deities to help me find the strength to learn what I need to learn to heal myself. It was an exalted form of magick that I honestly felt profound pride in myself for having been able to cast.

Still, I don’t feel as close with my patron deities as I once did. My faith is superficial lately, and I am extremely disappointed in myself for losing sight of everything that matters to me. I could whine and blame my medications, but that’s not entirely it. I have been lazy. Lazy in that I have chosen idle pursuits and pleasures over study and dedication. Lazy in that I would rather sleep in until the last moment before I get up for work or chores instead of rising with the sun and doing a morning dedication.

I am just so tired. But it should be getting better soon. I leave for Hawaii in a month, and when I return, I’ll be continuing my employment except I’ll be working from my very own home office. I am ecstatic that my company has honored me with their trust and the privilege of not having a commute into downtown Seattle. I honestly believe the decrease in my stress will bring the magick back to me every moment of my day, instead of when I must painfully extract it from the core of my soul as I did a few days ago.

**Lyrics from "Stars" by Alison Krauss and Union Station

First

You're up against the wall

There's something dying on the street

When they knock you down

You're gonna get back on your feet

‘Cause you can't stop now

When they break your heart

And when they cause your soul to mourn

Remember what I said:

"Girl, you was battle born.”

           

           My name is Heather. I am currently a single half-Cuban woman in her mid-twenties living in the beautiful city of Edmonds, Washington. I am a mother of one, a beautiful little girl beginning her first few years of school. I am a Capricorn Dragon living under a Birch tree. I work in a call center for a department store, I write or read nearly constantly, I  am a spiritual person, I consider myself pagan, and I am bipolar.

Bipolar disorder can develop in two different ways. Bipolar I is a disorder involving extreme mood episodes from mania to bipolar. One will rise to the peak of ecstasy, a high-energy rush of serotonin to the brain and adrenaline to the heart. One will sink into the abyssal of  tears after falling to the depths of wretchedness. An overpowering swarm of emotions that even sometimes turns into a dead sort of numbness that won't go away and that can’t be talked its way out of. Bipolar II is still an ever-changing cycle of hypo-mania and misery. Hypo-mania is a lesser form of the high-energy, high-stakes full-blown mania.

I am a Bipolar I with mixed states. Having mixed states means sometimes, not all of the time, I can have the severe mania and the despair of depression at the same time. These are not my favorite episodes to have.

I am a pagan. I am a witch. My path is always evolving and has pulled roots from Witchcraft, to Wicca (which aren't necessarily the same thing), Shamanism and Buddhism

This blog is my journey as a battle born bipolar witch. My diary, my grimoire. I will document my thoughts and feelings along the way as I struggle to find the peace my soul has been searching for over the lifetimes.

**Lyrics from "Battle Born" by the Killers.