Thirty-Third

Yet another stream of consciousness post. I haven't posted on my blog for a long time, mostly because I have lacked inspiration. That isn't the only reason, however. As I build my writing portfolio, I know I will be making the move to Wordpress as soon as I put aside enough money to pay the web designer. It will be soon, as the designer that I have chosen only charges around $150 for a Wordpress site. I am excited. My current position as senior contractor for an e-startup is going along swimmingly, however, I know that eventually the work they have for me will dry up. I need to be on the lookout for other positions if I am to continue to provide for my family.

I had a thought today. As I lay in bed in my husband's arms this morning, I began to ponder the most recent episode of Reign. I thought of Catherine, and how she raged at Diane de Poitiers after she discovered the true nature of her twins' death so many years before. I thought of Catherine, and I wondered how she filled her days. Surely her scheming didn't fill every hour of the day. Did Catherine enjoy reading? It should be noted that I'm talking about the character of Catherine, not the historical figure. Did she, like the characters in Downton Abbey, spend hours staring out the window, thinking about their day and what they needed to accomplish in the days to come?

I pondered that perhaps that is where the wisdom of days gone by came from. Before the Age of Distractions, before Facebook and smartphones and hundreds of channels on TV, people had more time to think. They would spend their time pondering their decisions, their choices, their opportunities, and in many cases it was only after hours of meditation on the subject that they came to any solid decision. Time was measured differently back then. Today, we fill our days with so much distraction, we hardly get anything done. But back then, they had fewer, different distractions, and so they accomplished much.

I would like to unplug. However, my internet addiction and my situation in which I am surrounded by family who desires my attention keep me from having a moment's peace to think. Even if I packed up my computer, or put a lock on it to keep me from using it all hours of the day, I would not be able to think as well as I would like.

Perhaps when we are finally situated in our apartment in California, with the boxes unpacked and everything in order, we will finally be able to come to some sort of agreement in which I am allowed my musings with minimal distractions.

Perhaps.

Thirty-Second

This is yet another stream of consciousness post. It has been several weeks since my last post but I have felt either too tired, too busy, or too distracted to come up with a topic. I have chronic fatigue as a symptom of my fibromyalgia and multiple sclerosis and I can’t seem to shake it. I have to start going to the gym. I know it will make me tired, but if I’m healthier, I hope my illnesses will go into remission. I am just so sick. And I hate it. I can’t be the wife James’ deserves, the mother Momo deserves, the human my cats deserve while I feel this way. In other news, I got married. I am so very happy. I wish I could say that I had a beautiful wedding, and I did have a beautiful marriage ceremony, but money is a factor and so we opted for a courthouse wedding.

I am so bored and so tired. I want to nap, but I know I have to stay awake. I wish I didn’t though. Maybe just a short nap.

I have started going to church. The LDS church. I don’t really believe in it, but I want to. I believe in a lot more of the witchcraft path than anything else. But mostly, I am an atheist. As much as I want to believe in Deity, I just can’t ignore scientific facts that seem to support the theory that there is no intelligent design. I fully believe in evolution. I suppose I could subscribe to the theory that I used to hold. That in the beginning of eternity, there was the Masculine and the Feminine. The joining of these two forces created the universes, and the repetitions of time immemorial. These masculine and feminine principles manifest in God and the Goddess and the “different” deities worshipped throughout time were mere facets of those two principles. They wrote the universe in physics and math and science so science does not prove that they don’t exist, it merely explains the way the universe is.

I just don’t know. I want to know. I want to believe in something. Because I surely don’t believe in myself.

Thirty-First - Stream of Consciousness

This is a stream of consciousness post. I am trying to write because I am on a self-appointed deadline and I want to finish my books early so I can perhaps publish them early but I don't know if it's possible. With my fiance moving in, my daughter moving back in with me, I will be heavily distracted. If James gets a job during the hours that my daughter is at school, I will perhaps have six hours to myself to create but will that be enough? I am a skilled enough typist but the problem is arisen where my mind is not as quick, not as sharp as it used to be and I wonder if I have enough brainpower to manifest a story, the poetry, the short stories, as quickly as I created the first three chapters of my novel. I am doing my best, but I am succumbing to doubt. Am I an author? Will my product be good enough? Will people buy it? What is my motivation for writing? I've wanted to be an author ever since I was little. I thrived when it was writing time. I feel blessed that I was enrolled in schools that encouraged creativity, imagination, and innovation. I hope I can achieve my dreams. I cannot imagine the joy I will feel as I publish my books. I will officially be an author when that happens. No one will be able to tell me different. I will be create my own destiny. I only wonder if I have the strength. 

Post-traumatic stress disorder and mental conditioning thrust upon me by other parties, namely my family, have crippled me. Am I intelligent? Everyone says so. Even my detractors have always told me I'm smart. It's funny how some people claim I'm manipulative and successful at getting people to do what I want, but I am also stupid. That makes no sense. It takes some sort of cunning to manipulate people, and while I know I possess some small part of it, I have no desire to manipulate people. I want people to want me - my company, my body, my friendship. If I have to manipulate them into giving that desire to me, I no longer have value for the relationship. It's really very simple. I just need to get all these racing thoughts out of my head. 

I despise bipolar disorder. I take my medications faithfully and I do my best to surround myself with peace and calm, but sometimes the manic episodes sneak in and I can't shut up my mind. I wish my novel flowed as easily as this post is flowing. But I am so self conscious about how the end product will be received that I second guess every word I write. What am I to do? I suppose I could turn to my Ativan, but I really don't want to abuse it. I just need something stronger. It is when I am like this that I fear my future. Notice how I went from declaring my destiny as my own to create to fearing my destiny as if it's out of my control. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. 

Thirtieth

It is a very curious thing to be conscious of one’s own bliss.

Time slows down and I’m aware solely of the soul-flight of rapturous delight that elevates me into hyper-awareness. Perhaps it is the stark contrast of the sheer radiance of happiness with the persistent darkness within my life that allows me to recall it so vividly. Compared to the dysphoric mania that I experience as a result of my bipolar disorder, those particular blissful moments are unadulterated euphoria.

Some people with bipolar disorder experience euphoric “highs” when they are manic. Every second is a high-energy rush and they feel they are invincible. They often engage in high-risk activities when experiencing their brand of mania – sexual promiscuity, reckless driving, gambling, etc. On the other hand, I experience dysphoric mania which is characterized by the same high levels of energy, but that energy manifests as anxiety, racing thoughts, and despair. It is physically painful to endure. My heart races, my mind won’t shut up, and I want to die.

Nine times out of ten, my bliss washes upon me because of one of three things.

The people in my life – my daughter, my lover, my friends
Reading – losing myself in a different world, a different reality
Writing – my blog, my novel, my poetry
 

Those three things are my lifelines. My escapes from a world that is usually so much darker than I perceive I can handle. At least, in my shadowed moments, I feel I cannot endure. But I always do. I am always risen again. Like a phoenix, like the Christ, like the flowers that bloom with the dawn, I always rise.

Twenty-Ninth

Hello! It's time again for Velvet Verbosity's 100 word story prompt of the week! This week, my story is titled Sarah.

Be kind.

Sarah knelt in the mud, but didn’t feel the puddle seep into her uniform. She was focused. “There, see the tracks? It looks like something was dragged into that tunnel.” She gestured with her gun at the maintenance tunnel off the boardwalk in the park. She rose. 

She led her team of investigators to the humble, grey chasm. With her flashlight in one hand and her gun in the other, she approached. Her light fell upon the black spaces between ligaments. Whatever was left of Molly Stevens, it wasn’t enough to make a positive identification.  Another find for Sarah Cooper.

Twenty-Eighth

In the movie “The Frog Prince” from Cannon Movie Tales, the Frog places Princess Zora in front of the mirror and says, “If you look long enough, you’ll see how other people see you.” Like Zora, I have received conflicting messages from those around me for my entire life. I’ve been told I’m kind, sweet, beautiful on the inside and out by most of my peers. My family has said the same things to me, although most of the time they turn around and tell me the opposite whenever they are annoyed with me. Men have had no trouble using my body to receive pleasure although I assume they never quite found me attractive enough to want to commit.

While I have the most trouble with my body, my perception of my personality is also distorted. My bipolar disorder and my borderline personality disorder have resulted in some pretty unsavory traits. I am a bona fide attention whore, and I will go to any lengths to get it when I feel like I am not getting enough from those around me.  I am also a liar. Ironically, I rarely lie on the internet. I instead use the safety of the internet’s anonymity to reveal the distasteful truths about myself and my philosophies. However, in the “real world,” I lie so easily that I often don’t realize I was dishonest until I reflect back upon my encounters throughout the day.  I adopt new personalities so easily, I imagine that is where my identity crisis stems from. I don’t know who I am or what I believe.  Like Marina and the Diamonds says, “I’ve lived a lot of different lives,been different people many times….Got different people inside my head. I wonderwhich one that they like best?”

It is so refreshing for me to meet people with a secure understanding of who they are and where they are going. I crave those interactions with people that help me see what I desperately desire. A sense of identity. To know that it is possible for me to become Heather, to be the best person I can be without having to shift personalities so often.

Maybe, like Zora, I will someday believe that I am ravishing, scrumptious, and exquisite.

Twenty-Seventh

I am going to complete my mid-year review here. I am taking part in a wonderful year-long workshop called Manifest. I introduced you to it here at the end of 2013. It has been an inspiration to me throughout 2014 thus far, and I have been more productive and more intuitive than I have ever been. I credit Jessica and the wonderful women I’ve met in the workshop for at least a hefty percentage of my new productivity.

Let us begin.

1.    In the beginning of 2014, I said I wanted to amplify and create time for my writing. At the beginning of the year, I began my novel in earnest. It is now 5 chapters long and I will be finished by the end of the year, if all goes well. I also have ideas for two poetry books. I have started the first: a book of poetry with no set theme or meter. The second book will be erotic poetry. I hope to finish all three by the end of the year, but realistically only one project will be completed.

2.    At the beginning of 2014, I made some goals. The first was to finish my book. Still working on that one. The second was to become more spiritual. I have become more spiritual but it is in a way that will alienate me from nearly everyone from everywhere on the spiritual spectrum, so I will keep it secret, personal, and sacred. For now, anyway.

3.    My word of the year was Divinity. I separated from it and became a hardcore atheist for a few months, but I think it was necessary to shed me of all the preconceptions I had as a pagan and Goddess worshiper. I have a better idea of who I am, what I DO believe, and what virtues I want to manifest in my life now because of my foray into skepticism.

4.    I am still living my mission statement. I need to write a new one that demonstrates the values in my vision board I created recently.

5.    I separated from my crystal and animal guides for most of the year for the reasons in #3. I feel drawn to reconnect with Ametrine and Brown Bear once again.

6.    I wanted to bring peace and love and spirituality into my life. I feel I have accomplished this, although I know it will be a lifelong pursuit. As a bipolar borderline personality, I struggle to feel such emotions and sensations just as a matter of fact. But I have endeavored to know myself and to know others and to see the soul of every person who crosses my path.

7.    Maya Angelou defined success as:  “Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.” I think she said it best. I think I am enormously successful if you take into account where I’ve been in my life, where I’m going, and where I’m at.

8.    I am a writer.

I have 400 followers on Twitter and growing by 50 followers a day.

My career has taken off in ways I never anticipated.

I have friends, real friends.

9.    Heather, I love you. Eternally You, Heather.

10.  I need to stay focused on writing. I need to examine my resolve and create as much of a routine as a right-brained creative can have and stick to it. I need to take responsibility for my actions and make sure I’m reaping the benefits of my decisions rather than suffering the consequences.

My Vision board:

Twenty-Sixth

Today, I bring you my submission for Velvet Verbosity's 100 word prompt for the week. The theme of the week was Faded. 

My stories tend to lean toward the darker side. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

Suzanna

She took another sip of her whiskey, but decided to down the entire contents of the glass instead. She sighed as the burning sensation slipped down her throat into her belly. She turned away from the bar, slipping a $20 note to the bartender.

As she entered the bathroom, she stumbled, colliding with the automatic towel dispenser. “Fucking shit,” she muttered. She entered the handicap stall at the end of the row. As she lit up the lighter and placed it under the spoon, she sighed. When the syringe pricked her skin, she wondered when her life became so faded. 

Twenty-Fifth

Who amongst us shies away from risk? Is it cowardice or reasonableness that keeps those who keep themselves on the logical path?

Why do we take risks?

Financial gambles come in the form of investments. Should we buy that house? Should we sell our stock now or wait? In a world of buy, buy, buy, sell, sell, sell, it can be dizzying to consider our financial risks from a logical point of view. The financial landscape in the Western world is always changing. What might have seen a good purchase in the height of the housing bubble before the recession is now an underwater mortgage ruining the investment prospects of a young 30-something professional.

Even in college we take risks. Should we declare our major as freshmen and lock ourselves into that educational pursuit for the next 4-8 years? Or do we busy ourselves in the haze of prerequisites and hope inspiration for our futures comes in the form of English 101?

Nowhere else in our lives do we take the most risks and make the most dangerous bets than in love. Finding The One™ is, for many if not most of us, the primary goal of our lifetimes. To find a mate to connect with, present a united front with the one person in the world who knows you against society and all expectations the rest of us ask of you. That’s what we want, and it’s human and good to want it. Perhaps that is why we are willing to sacrifice every temporary happiness in an effort to not only find, but secure our partner for life.

As for myself, I will always choose risk. That has been my admittedly misguided M.O. for my entire life. I won’t stop now.

**Lyrics from "I See Fire" by Ed Sheeran

Twenty-Fourth

As I've been lacking in inspiration for both my novel and my blog (and I sincerely apologize for that, you guys, you know I do) I have decided that on days I cannot come up with a topic or theme I will complete a short story prompt for you to enjoy.

I found a weekly 100 word challenge at Velvet Verbosity. Every week, she chooses a theme and challenges writers to write a 100 word story for it. This week's theme was Whistling.

Here is my story. Title: Danny

Danny crossed the street at the intersection of Orion and Pine.  The sky was vividly blue, rare for Seattle. He smiled up at the azure canopy and began to whistle as he drew closer to home. The melody had been with him for weeks, haunting his dreams. 

He was lost in the tune and he didn’t see the car coming. Danny stepped into the street, whistling clearly. When his legs broke, so did his song. His skull shattered the windshield and his blood coagulated there as he rolled off the hood.  He could still hear the melody as he died.

Twenty-Third

Men. I have a new boyfriend who understands my darkness. Understands my weakness. When I can't pay my bills and I struggle to take care of myself, he doesn't lecture me. He inspires me to do better, to problem solve, he never tells me I have to be more independent, he doesn't tell me I'm not marriage material. 

This brings up the question: did or do I really need a man to validate my existence? To qualify my intentions as I set them? 

I get two conflicting messages from current culture. The first is the remnants of the relatively modern belief that women are inferior to men and all women need a man to take care of them and tell them what to think. I do not agree with this whole message. The other message I receive from society is that I'm a strong, independent woman and I don't need no man. This too I do not accept as a whole. 

While I know that women are just as capable, just as strong, just as powerful as men are, for myself I maintain a submissive relationship with men. I like to do as I'm told because I am afraid of leading the pack, of taking a stand, of being the boss. I know that my life experiences have made me this way and I have been essentially beaten into submission by circumstance. When I was younger, I was always described by my teachers as being a leader. The change started when the bullying began in fourth grade.

My new boyfriend doesn't want to control me. He wants me to be happy, and he will support me in finding that happiness in whatever way it happens to manifest. That's all I could hope for. I hope this one lasts.

Twenty-Second

I don’t really know
How to trust the gentleman
That come a’calling
 Sometimes I can feel
My heartbeat dying along
With my melting mind
 I am always sad
Sometimes I feel like dying
But I am still here
 I found that I am
Always going to be weird
And that is okay

What a mess the past few days have been. On Sunday, my brother and mother and I took my daughter, Momo, to the zoo. It was fun, although my family made it clear that they think I’m stupid as hell. The following exchange happened:

Me: Do animals get periods? Where does the blood go? Does it just drip down their legs?

Mom: Bleed and lick! Bleed and lick!

Bro: What animal were you thinking of?

Me: Oh, a li-

Bro (interrupting): Because if you were thinking of an animal that lays eggs I would have been really disappointed.

Mom: She’s thinking of reptiles.

In truth, I was thinking of lions.

______________________

Sunday night, Momo’s father came into town. He was staying with me. He took the bed with Momo while I slept on the couch. He stayed with me until Wednesday morning, when he left with Momo at 4:30am.

The whole time he was in town, my mind was completely hazy. I am unsure if it’s the empathy that comes with having severe mental illness or his energy, but his energy was beating mine into submission. I was overwhelmed by his disdain. He is a soft spoken man, but he also is the biggest jerk I’ve ever known. He continued to insult my parenting, my home, my pets, and me. He kept implying that what we had wasn’t real and he never actually even liked me too. I have no feelings for the man, but that was cruel to deny that the union that produced our little princess was beautiful.

I have been feeling highly spiritual today. I am rather excited.  I will be finding my patron deities by Sunday, and I will fill you in then on who my patrons are, what message they have for me, and info about each God/dess.

Twenty-first.

I don't feel like much today. Wednesday night I only got four hours of sleep. I napped throughout the day, but I felt like shit most of the day. Last night I took 100mg of Trazodone, and I slept for twelve hours. I needed it. But even though I've only been awake nine and a half hours as of the time of writing this post, I am exhausted already.

I cleaned my kitchen (somewhat) and vacuumed my living room. I did a few loads of laundry. I don't know why I'm so tired. I barely did anything.

I downloaded Spotify today. I love Pandora, but I wanted to be able to make my own playlist, so I switched. At least for when these mood strikes me and I have to create the perfect ambience.

I want to play video games and listen to music and write and create for days straight, but I have a party to attend tomorrow. Alas. Tomorrow will be a good day, right? Can I create routine? Can I finish my novel? I feel like I'm suffocating.

Twentieth

This morning I woke up early, around 8:30. I have trouble sleeping through the night so I woke up several times between midnight when I went to sleep and when I finally rose for the day, most notably when the sun rose a little after five. I was dressed and ready by 10am.  I have never been a morning person, but I am beginning to be. Much like I discussed here, I think rising with the sun offers a unique perspective on the day to come and can infuse you with a special kind of energy that you’ll lack if you wake in the afternoon.

My tarot of the day was Seven of Wands. The Shadowscapes book describes the card thusly:

The Vixen faces off against a badger, while her kits watch from beneath the protective curl of her tail. The enemies circle and circle. They size each other up. A nip here to test the swiftness of reaction; a swipe to press the defenses. The vixen snarls and lunges forward, for she has her brood to protect, and she will not fail them! Fear for her kits burns in her heart. Her actions are necessity, not merely courage, and yet it is all the more courageous for being such a selfless act, without the tangle of thoughts and justifications. Her mere belief makes her fight ten times more fiercely and with a fiery strength.

The bamboo of the wands signifies strength and fortitude. Bamboo possesses a slender suppleness that sways in the winds and does not break. It grows tenaciously and sends out multitudinous shoots in all directions, the better to compete for sun and space.


The Seven of Wands represents taking a stand, defending what you believe in. The world is full of strife and stiff competition, and one must have courage in facing the difficulties that come. Do not buckle under a stiff wind, but sway like the bamboo. Seemingly insurmountable odds can be overcome with faith and courage.

My interpretation of this pull was that I need to make sure to not let anything deter me from the life I want to lead. The life I am building. I wonder if it has any implications for my disability case. I quit my job in February and applied for disability but it takes 4-6 months to get an answer. If I do not get approved initially, I have an attorney on retainer to file an appeal for me.

I went to therapy today. We discussed the letter for me to go back to school. We talked about men and who I’m interested in currently. We discussed my borderline personality and how I often feel like I’m in love far too early to be rational. To be honest, it felt as if she was mocking me as I tried to defend my love for someone. It bothers me that my penchant for falling in love easily makes people so uncomfortable. How could love be a bad thing? I’m not going to kill myself over a man, I’m not going to stalk him, I’m not going to have a breakdown if it doesn't work out. Honestly.

I wonder what is waiting for me tomorrow. 

Nineteenth

bring back those good ol' days
nothing feels right
nothing ever goes my way
I threw my future away
now I walk alone
out here in the cold
wandering astray
where is my future?

I'm gonna need a home
you'd expect the same
now wouldn't you?
wouldn't you?

your journey back to birth is haunting you
haunting you

your departure from the earth is haunting you
haunting you

only those who accept
will find that acceptance in return
we have been trimmed down like hedges
and told just to sit
and wilt
and spit at each other from a distance
there is constant resistance from you

I'm gonna need a home
you'd expect the same
now wouldn't you?
wouldn't you?

it's been 10 years strong
that's much too long
it's time to do something good for my health
it's time to do something good for myself
I've wasted all of this time

I don’t know how I’ve let so much time pass before updating. I suppose I needed a break, to figure out where I’m going. I’m not entirely sure yet, but I have a better idea than I did five months ago. It’s a part of growing up, I guess, to be able to see and differentiate between what works for you and what doesn’t.

Physically, I have started Copaxone injections for my confirmed Multiple Sclerosis. I inject myself every day with 20mg syringes. My neurologist wanted to start me on the 40mg thrice-weekly regimen, but my insurance wouldn’t cover it. It isn’t the most pleasant sensation as the injection site aches and itches for ten minutes afterward, but that’s alright. The price for physical peace, am I right?

Romantically, my boyfriend and I broke up. We were together almost 4 years. It’s a huge shift in lifestyles. I had grown accustomed to his company and his house and his XBOX. I care for him very much, but we just had too much to work on individually. I had needs that he was not meeting and I’m sure he had needs I wasn’t meeting. I am not single and ready to mingle now, however. There is something else I’m focusing on.

Academically, I am working on getting a letter from my therapist to submit to the school so that I can go back to school in the fall. I do not work, so I am sure that I can concentrate. Schoolwork and my novel will my entire life. I doubt I’ll have much of a social life.  I’m going to contact the lender of my student loans to make sure I’m not in default when I apply as well.

Spiritually, I am at a crossroads. Science and reality and everything that has to do with them have been my religions. I still crave a connection with a higher power, but I haven’t believed in one for a long time. I am a member of several atheist groups. Still, in my secret moments when I’m alone, I ache for the comfort I felt when I was in the arms of the Goddess. I am trying to get back into my spirituality. As long as it isn’t the New Age propaganda that assigns miracles to coincidences, I can reconcile my two passions. I believe that magick is scientific. I am sure that one day science will be able to prove it. And then it won’t be magick anymore, it’ll be a new conversation with the universe in which mankind forgot to participate.

Heather and Mullein will be a daily exercise before I go to bed from this post on. I will still have themes, but I will be using this blog as a diary. Full disclosure when possible, but a lot of boring details regarding my diet or exercise or other mundane activities. This is my effort to track my progress through my eloquence and topic matter. 

Lyrics from: "Bug Eyes" by Dredg

Eighteenth

It’s really difficult for me to write this. As you know, I haven’t written a post in a while, and the reason for that is I just haven’t been inspired. I don’t feel the pull of the Goddess anymore, and I’ve been increasingly judgmental of other pagans. I believe in science and I also believe in magick, but the thing is…not every weird occurrence is the result of actions by the fae or spirits or anything. When you get angry and then the wind blows, you aren’t controlling the weather. There is such a thing as coincidence. And it blows my mind that so many pagans by into the whole thing of 

“I’m sixteen, I can control the weather. I’m also empathic and I am very intuitive.” Of course you are, intuitive and empathic people are drawn to paganism.

I guess I just don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I want to be the kind, soft-hearted person I always admire, but I’m just not. There is a lot of bitterness in my soul, and I don’t know how to be rid of it. For Manifest, I did a releasing ritual and while it helped, I think the scars on my heart are there to stay.

I am in love. The person I love is emotionally distant from me, and my encouragement and enthusiasm to make things work with him I think is driving him further away. Meanwhile I’m having money woes and work place woes and I’m trying to get on disability and I don’t have a car and I don’t know what to do. And all the while this bitterness in my heart at my own failings to function as an adult, that I have bipolar disorder, that I have borderline personality disorder, that I’m physically sick and that no one ever stays with me is breaking my heart.

A close friend recently abandoned me. She said I’ve changed. I haven’t. I think she thinks that you can only be friends with someone who likes the same things as you do. People who are exactly like you. But that would be so boring. I loved her like a sister, and she abandoned me.

It’s like that song from Phantom of the Opera, the movie, the song by Minnie Driver.

Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness

Who will be there for you
Comfort and care for you
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion

Never dreamed out in the world
There are arms to hold you
You've always known your heart was on its own

So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love life that is lived alone

Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived, life can be loved alone

Manifest

If your 2013 was anything like mine, it was lackluster at best and downright morbid at worst. 2013 brought me a slew of physical ailments, psychotic episodes, and broken promises. However, I did start this blog, and with it, I found a renewed motivation to find routine and harmony in my life.

With that intention set for 2014, I would like to introduce you all to Manifest, a workshop for the coming year by the wonderful and illustrious Jessica. Manifest will be all about setting your intentions and achieving your goals in 2014, making it the best year yet. For the wild women and the daughters of the moon like so many of my readers are (and like myself!), this holistic workshop will not be your regular planner.  Included in the workshop will be one on one coaching sessions with Jessica herself, for the extra motivation to really learn the habits and skills to make every year from now on the best year ever. Please find all the information about Manifest here.

I am so honored to be a part of it, and it is my absolute pleasure to hopefully bring you on board with me.

With love and light to all of you,

Heather and Mullein

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. 

Sixteenth

I fought the devil and

I have cursed the name of God

I ate the flesh and

I drank all the blood I could find

Worshiped the sun when it rose

Denied it when it died

And I've killed lovers just as many times

As they have killed mine

Nobody's gonna save your ass except for you

Went out west only to find

That everyone's the same

Working jobs and getting high

Trying not to go insane

I've killed everything

I've ever done

I have ever tried

I kissed the devil, and I

I spoke the name on high

Nobody's gonna save your ass except for you

Nobody's gonna save your ass except for you

The lyrics above hold a very difficult lesson to learn. From a very young age, I believed I was a princess. The movie A Little Princess ingrained that lesson in me. Every girl is a princess. Unfortunately for me, that belief didn’t evolve with my increasing age. As tragedy befell me and the child abuse began, I still maintained that I was a princess. When bipolar disorder struck me and my medications wreaked havoc on my intellect, when I began to fail at all of the things that were my strengths, I still believed it. I was a princess, and I deserved to be treated as such.

I made excuses. I’m a princess, but a tragic princess. My abusers are the dragons that keep me locked away from my Prince Charming. My failings and flaws are mere quirks that will make me loved all the more.

When I was in therapy at age 15, my therapist - devastatingly handsome man who smelled of sage and cloves - tried to point out the flaw in my thinking. I was ranting and raving one day when he pulled out his phone. 

"Hold on, hold on," he said, flipping open his Samsung. I asked him what he was doing.

"I need to notify NASA. I just found the center of the universe."

That moment has stayed with me over a decade, but unfortunately, the lesson was a little less sticky.

It was a couple weeks ago that I realized something vital and devastating. While the concept of my royalty was completely valid within the intention of Sara Crewe, in typical bipolar fashion I blew it out of proportion and spun it into my own ball of excessive ego. I realized that I do have to work for what I want. I’m not talking about working a 9-5, etc. I’m talking about the effort it takes to CREATE.

I am a writer.  I am a witch. I am a soul that is full of life and I am screaming to reach beyond the limits of my body and touch the stars.

My Tarot of the Day today was XVII The Star. From the Shadowscapes Companion:

 Meaning: Regaining hope, faith in the future, inspiration. Finding the still and silent place within your being of serenity, tranquility amid trouble, harmony, offering without reservations, sharing and being generous. The harshness of daylight or even moonlight is gone, and there is nothing but the calm and nonjudgmental eyes of the stars. There is a peace to that, a space to gather up, prepare, and uplift the spirit. Let loose doubts and fears to the embrace of the night. The stars have always been symbols of guidance and hope, the light to lead you home. 

**Lyrics from Damion Suomi's "Save Your Ass"

Fifteenth

All day staring at the ceiling

Making friends with shadows on my wall

All night hearing voices telling me

That I should get some sleep

Because tomorrow might be good for something

Hold on

Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown

And I don't know why

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I know right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired

I know right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be

It seems that medication is a double-edged sword. The pain and confusion that comes with unmedicated mental illness is swept away with a regimen of chemicals into the brain. Unfortunately, with the symptoms also go the magic and wonder that comes with seeing the beauty in a seemingly crystal clear manic state.  Clarity is gone, hidden under the haze of medicated lethargy.

It is difficult. Creativity is stifled. I used to get awards for my writing. I used to be praised. All of my teachers in school told my parents that I would be a famous author one day. I scored a 2200 on the SAT. I am a certifiable genius. I could have joined MENSA. But every day that I pop those psychotropic drugs, the foggier my mind becomes. It is my burden. It is my curse. If I want to create and live as carefree as when I was young, I could go off of the medications. But at what cost? To lose my ability to be patient and teach my young daughter? To lose every interpersonal relationship I have? To lose the ability to work and provide for myself – an ability that is even still fought for every day with my sweat and tears?

There are no easy solutions for a bipolar person. For a pagan, it is even more painful. While we may find peace the light of the moon or with our respective deities, our spirit guides, our totem animals, our sense of duty to be good to ourselves and those things that are ours is pivotal to our spiritual development. As a Goddess worshiper, I am acutely aware of my failings as I cycle into the Mother phase of my life. I simultaneously pine for the past and my Maiden stage as I crave and hunger for the knowledge that will lead me into success as a woman in my Crone stage. There is no easy way. The sooner the bipolar pagan learns this, the better.  

When I was young, I was a wild child

Sunshine, grass stains, mud piles

Skinning my knee was a battle scar

I was afraid of monsters, but not the dark

With the dawn, I’d run so far

Exploring every secret place, every park

Today I choke and gasp for air

Seeking magick everywhere

Only duty to hold me down

I will die without a sound.

"WildChild" Copyright 2013 - Heather Rivero

**Lyrics From"Unwell" by Matchbox 20