I feel in the state of constant evolution, and after so many month of stagnation, I can't express the joy that this is bringing to my heart. Pushing my boundaries, searching for the positivity and realizing all that I have to appreciate. Filling the moments I have with the activities that bring me joy, taking the time to close my eyes and feel the energy of the world coursing through my veins, feeling the same energy flowing through the air around me. It's a wonderful feeling.
My mornings have been filled with yoga, and I am amazed at how balanced this has made my body. Combined with the fact that for the last week, I have been indulging in a mostly raw diet (lots of veggies, salads, fruit smoothies)... Physically, I feel better than I have in a long time. So much energy, not lathargic, feeling mentally awake.
Emotionally, I feel like I am glowing again. I am looking in the mirror and seeing my sparkle begin to emerge once more. I thought that I had lost my magic, but after internet conversations with some dear amazing friends... I feel my magic returning. I feel confident again for the first time... in a long time. I feel like a Starchild again.
Also, I rediscovered my hula hoop. I haven't picked it up in months, and with all of this new energy, I have found my inspiration again. I forgot how amazing it feels, the circle of energy that forms with each spin, the way the plastic and tape grip my skin, learning new tricks, delighting in the tricks that my body has not forgotten yet.
Winter is here and I am excited. This is a period of growth, of inspiration, of self-discovery. This is going to be the winter that I always wanted. I can't wait. I am so thankful for my life right now. :)
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Punktribe faerienight
My best friend in the entire world flew in from Colorodo and I broke my hermitage to visit her yesterday. She and I hopped into the car and had a mini-road trip to see our friend Dunes in Cleveland, who had also flown into town from California. This is the first time we have been able to hang out together in several years.
It was lovely. I got huggles and snuggles from Kajira, and I got big squeezing hugs from Dunes. We scarfed down delicious melts, which were like giant grilled cheese sandwichs with peroges and sourkraut inside of it. Yummyyummyyummy. Then we headed out for a night on the town, making a beeline towards a small hole in the wall punkrock bar. Great ferocious music, dark and twisted apocalypse paintings on the walls and ceiling, graffetti every where, supercheap mixed drinks, all sorts of crazy people.
It was an amazing night. Those two constantly take my breath away, they truly do. Dunes with his gypsy soul, the words painted on all of his clothes, his green hair, the three piercings in his nose, the necklaces draped around his neck, each amulent holding a different meaning. Kajira with her pigtails and her elegant grace and her spikes and the rainbow tattooed so vividly around her arm, the way that she smells so amazing whenever I hug her. I fully believe that she isn't human, that she has faerie blood running through her veins because she is the most magical person I know. They both are.
We met some interesting characters who came up and bought us shots, an old black man who gaves us hugs and bought us drinks and showed us pictures of his beautiful children and showed us his pride for them, he gave us hugs and kissed the cheeks of all three of us, left beaming and we laughed with delight at sharing in a stranger's joy.
We talked and we sang and we drank. Unfortunately, I drank way too much. Three rum and cokes and the shots of whiskey and the Long Island Iced Tea. When we got home, we drank a bit of wine and then I promply got ill. They took care of me, laughing and hugging me and holding back my hair, pretending I was their child and giggling when I made them promise to never let me drink "Lawn Islanders" ever again. For the first time ever, I have a bit of gaps in my memory, and that is a bizarre feeling.
But there was so much laughter and at one point, I apparently burst into tears over the past and they huggled and cuddled me until I was better. We all crawled into bed and passed out, snuggled into a puppy pile and I fell asleep with my fingers twined with Kajira's.
It was a magical night. I haven't felt that magic in a long time, feeling infinite and filled with joy and dazzling the world with starlight. It was good to feel it again, but now that it is gone, I feel the come-down. Kajira left for Colorodo again, and Dunes will be heading back to California soon. And I am left here, and I am afraid that the shadows will get too strong for me. I miss them, I miss them both, I miss being around soulmates and no judgments, soul-searching conversations that open the heart and make you fly.
They are my tribe.
It was an amazing night. I wish I had more of them.
It was lovely. I got huggles and snuggles from Kajira, and I got big squeezing hugs from Dunes. We scarfed down delicious melts, which were like giant grilled cheese sandwichs with peroges and sourkraut inside of it. Yummyyummyyummy. Then we headed out for a night on the town, making a beeline towards a small hole in the wall punkrock bar. Great ferocious music, dark and twisted apocalypse paintings on the walls and ceiling, graffetti every where, supercheap mixed drinks, all sorts of crazy people.
It was an amazing night. Those two constantly take my breath away, they truly do. Dunes with his gypsy soul, the words painted on all of his clothes, his green hair, the three piercings in his nose, the necklaces draped around his neck, each amulent holding a different meaning. Kajira with her pigtails and her elegant grace and her spikes and the rainbow tattooed so vividly around her arm, the way that she smells so amazing whenever I hug her. I fully believe that she isn't human, that she has faerie blood running through her veins because she is the most magical person I know. They both are.
We met some interesting characters who came up and bought us shots, an old black man who gaves us hugs and bought us drinks and showed us pictures of his beautiful children and showed us his pride for them, he gave us hugs and kissed the cheeks of all three of us, left beaming and we laughed with delight at sharing in a stranger's joy.
We talked and we sang and we drank. Unfortunately, I drank way too much. Three rum and cokes and the shots of whiskey and the Long Island Iced Tea. When we got home, we drank a bit of wine and then I promply got ill. They took care of me, laughing and hugging me and holding back my hair, pretending I was their child and giggling when I made them promise to never let me drink "Lawn Islanders" ever again. For the first time ever, I have a bit of gaps in my memory, and that is a bizarre feeling.
But there was so much laughter and at one point, I apparently burst into tears over the past and they huggled and cuddled me until I was better. We all crawled into bed and passed out, snuggled into a puppy pile and I fell asleep with my fingers twined with Kajira's.
It was a magical night. I haven't felt that magic in a long time, feeling infinite and filled with joy and dazzling the world with starlight. It was good to feel it again, but now that it is gone, I feel the come-down. Kajira left for Colorodo again, and Dunes will be heading back to California soon. And I am left here, and I am afraid that the shadows will get too strong for me. I miss them, I miss them both, I miss being around soulmates and no judgments, soul-searching conversations that open the heart and make you fly.
They are my tribe.
It was an amazing night. I wish I had more of them.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
I am thankful for...
Things I am Thankful For:
1) My amazing family. I have a wonderful mother who is creative and teaches me to never give up. I have a sister whose strength amazes me. I have two little kidlings who have a huge chuck of my heart, a niece and nephew who are my world. I have a stepfather who delights in going on random adventures with me. And there are three cuddly kitties who are filled with mischief and purrs and are always willing to give hugs.
2) I am grateful for my Angelboy. He is such a beautiful human being, inside and out. He teaches me how to be a better person, he never lets a single day go by without reminding me that I am beautiful and magical and amazing. Before him, I was wild and crazy and I jumped from lover to lover without a care in the world. Now, I feel grounded and secure. Even when I don't have faith in myself, he believes enough for the both of us.
3) I am grateful for books. Words and images and the feeling of paper against fingertips, the books that have shaped my heart and the books that I have yet to read, the ones that are calling out to my soul. And there are the books that I have yet to write, that are lurking somewhere within this heart. Nothing calms me down like curling up with a book, which is probably why I do it every day.
4) Yummy vegetarian Thanksgiving feast. My madre is the bestest. People ask how I have been a vegetarian for almost ten years, whether it was difficult or not. It wasn't. My mother is an amazing cook, she always supported my decision, and she has taught me how to make the most delicious of recipes. One day, I hope to be as talented as she is. As it is, my tummy STILL feels full from Thanksgiving! ^_^
5) Self-expression. Having the ability to be the weird girlthing that I am, dressing in rainbows and fishnets, piercings and silly braids, or corporate clothes mixed up with my spikes, knitted gloves and my impressively growing collection of hats. I love the freedom to be whatever I want, whenever I want. I can be a faerie one day or an Indian the next - I can give voice to all of the sides of myself. It is truly a blessing.
6) Margaritas. Especially the ones that Angelboy makes. Yumyumyuuuum!
7) Crime Show maratons - Oh, SVU and CSI, you make my days complete. :)
8) Hooping! Even when I get bogged down in the busyness of life, you are always waiting for me. And every time I pick you up and spin you around, I get the biggest smile and I feel like I am a circusgirl extraordinaire, ready to take on the world without even needing a net!
9) Warm baths. Long soaks with the scent of lavendar and a glass of wine and a good book. This has been my main self-spoiling indulgance over the past few weeks.
10) Yoga! I forgot how amazing you were. And how much more balanced I feel after completing you.
11) Rajahmonster. Although I mentioned the kitties in my family, he deserves his own special slot. Because he is mine and I adore him and he is spoiled rotton. Today alone, I think he has cuddled with me for about five hours, while I watched television or read. Seriously, the most adorable monster kitty ever. I can never be angry with him. <3
12) My business. So far, it has been working out very well. I don't regret quitting my job for an instant, and I feel so much more satisfied in general. So much more content. Proof that following your heart and trusting in yourself will not lead you astray... Now I just need to keep up the momentum and keep the ball rolling!
1) My amazing family. I have a wonderful mother who is creative and teaches me to never give up. I have a sister whose strength amazes me. I have two little kidlings who have a huge chuck of my heart, a niece and nephew who are my world. I have a stepfather who delights in going on random adventures with me. And there are three cuddly kitties who are filled with mischief and purrs and are always willing to give hugs.
2) I am grateful for my Angelboy. He is such a beautiful human being, inside and out. He teaches me how to be a better person, he never lets a single day go by without reminding me that I am beautiful and magical and amazing. Before him, I was wild and crazy and I jumped from lover to lover without a care in the world. Now, I feel grounded and secure. Even when I don't have faith in myself, he believes enough for the both of us.
3) I am grateful for books. Words and images and the feeling of paper against fingertips, the books that have shaped my heart and the books that I have yet to read, the ones that are calling out to my soul. And there are the books that I have yet to write, that are lurking somewhere within this heart. Nothing calms me down like curling up with a book, which is probably why I do it every day.
4) Yummy vegetarian Thanksgiving feast. My madre is the bestest. People ask how I have been a vegetarian for almost ten years, whether it was difficult or not. It wasn't. My mother is an amazing cook, she always supported my decision, and she has taught me how to make the most delicious of recipes. One day, I hope to be as talented as she is. As it is, my tummy STILL feels full from Thanksgiving! ^_^
5) Self-expression. Having the ability to be the weird girlthing that I am, dressing in rainbows and fishnets, piercings and silly braids, or corporate clothes mixed up with my spikes, knitted gloves and my impressively growing collection of hats. I love the freedom to be whatever I want, whenever I want. I can be a faerie one day or an Indian the next - I can give voice to all of the sides of myself. It is truly a blessing.
6) Margaritas. Especially the ones that Angelboy makes. Yumyumyuuuum!
7) Crime Show maratons - Oh, SVU and CSI, you make my days complete. :)
8) Hooping! Even when I get bogged down in the busyness of life, you are always waiting for me. And every time I pick you up and spin you around, I get the biggest smile and I feel like I am a circusgirl extraordinaire, ready to take on the world without even needing a net!
9) Warm baths. Long soaks with the scent of lavendar and a glass of wine and a good book. This has been my main self-spoiling indulgance over the past few weeks.
10) Yoga! I forgot how amazing you were. And how much more balanced I feel after completing you.
11) Rajahmonster. Although I mentioned the kitties in my family, he deserves his own special slot. Because he is mine and I adore him and he is spoiled rotton. Today alone, I think he has cuddled with me for about five hours, while I watched television or read. Seriously, the most adorable monster kitty ever. I can never be angry with him. <3
12) My business. So far, it has been working out very well. I don't regret quitting my job for an instant, and I feel so much more satisfied in general. So much more content. Proof that following your heart and trusting in yourself will not lead you astray... Now I just need to keep up the momentum and keep the ball rolling!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Hooping Inspiration
This is one of my favorite inspirational hooping videos. Whenever I get into a bad headspace, I watch this and my heart feels better. When you are inside of a hoop, there are no shadows. Spiral has one of the most amazing flows - energetic and elegant all at once. One day, I will be this good. <3 <3 <3
Also, once Yule is over, I plan on buying myself a Business Warming present, a congratulations to myself for taking a risk and actually making things happen. I think it's gonna be an LED hoop. *happysighs*
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Strangeland
What is a starchild without dreams? Without glitter to hypnotize behind her closed eyes, without heights to soar upwards to, without an adventure to aim for? Hope is the wings of gossamer and webs, dew-covered aspirations that she could fight for, the song of the soul to offer to the stars and the bright smile of the moon.
Without dreams, she is just a small human girlthing, trapped in her own head by threads that she fears hold the beginning of madness. Apathy is the iron that burns her skin, makes her want to cringe and shrink away. There is no magic dust, there is nothing but this heart that is shrinking within her chest. Ivy is growing over this ribcage, heavy thorned limbs to keep the world safe while it falls to sleep, dreamless and safe.
But there is no safety, not in her skull. There is a lack of desire, lack of clarity, lack of emotions other than fear. Fear is her companion, those fingers wrapping around her ankles to draw her down into the swamplands, sinking further and further until her lungs draw in quicksand instead of air, silt against her teeth to silence the screams. She has been sinking for a while now - she was just too blind to notice.
There is no magic anymore and maybe there never was. She can't find even a glimpse of it now. Once, she used to dance. She used to go out and adventure, frolick like the faeriechild changeling she claimed to be, searching and claiming and seeking to sate her curiosity. She used to create, she used to write - the words used to spill off of her fingertips in a wonderful dazzle of letters and gems. Now, the words are stagnant and meaningless, only emerging when she opens a vein to slake the thirst of her quill. She used to make wishes on stars and cupcakes and rainbows and flowers - now, she doesn't have a single wish inside of her body. She searches in vain. Hope has rotted into emptiness.
So she withdrawls inside of herself, retreatss behind these walls and far away from those who might see the truth, who would despise her for the loss of her magic, for revealing the face of shadows and the weakness and losing all strength to fight for something - anything - once more.
The world has turned grey. Trapped in the mists, cold and lost and unable to cry out. All has turned to dust - crumbling marble and edged with cobwebs, fading and dying and turning into nothingness once more.
This is the present. This is the future.
It was always going to end up this way.
Without dreams, she is just a small human girlthing, trapped in her own head by threads that she fears hold the beginning of madness. Apathy is the iron that burns her skin, makes her want to cringe and shrink away. There is no magic dust, there is nothing but this heart that is shrinking within her chest. Ivy is growing over this ribcage, heavy thorned limbs to keep the world safe while it falls to sleep, dreamless and safe.
But there is no safety, not in her skull. There is a lack of desire, lack of clarity, lack of emotions other than fear. Fear is her companion, those fingers wrapping around her ankles to draw her down into the swamplands, sinking further and further until her lungs draw in quicksand instead of air, silt against her teeth to silence the screams. She has been sinking for a while now - she was just too blind to notice.
There is no magic anymore and maybe there never was. She can't find even a glimpse of it now. Once, she used to dance. She used to go out and adventure, frolick like the faeriechild changeling she claimed to be, searching and claiming and seeking to sate her curiosity. She used to create, she used to write - the words used to spill off of her fingertips in a wonderful dazzle of letters and gems. Now, the words are stagnant and meaningless, only emerging when she opens a vein to slake the thirst of her quill. She used to make wishes on stars and cupcakes and rainbows and flowers - now, she doesn't have a single wish inside of her body. She searches in vain. Hope has rotted into emptiness.
So she withdrawls inside of herself, retreatss behind these walls and far away from those who might see the truth, who would despise her for the loss of her magic, for revealing the face of shadows and the weakness and losing all strength to fight for something - anything - once more.
The world has turned grey. Trapped in the mists, cold and lost and unable to cry out. All has turned to dust - crumbling marble and edged with cobwebs, fading and dying and turning into nothingness once more.
This is the present. This is the future.
It was always going to end up this way.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Lost in beautiful and lovely musical discoveries that have set me in the most fae of moods tonight. Definitely a far cry from my industrial and my dubsteptribal music. Lovelovelove.
^ Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale.
^ Nocturne by Secret Garden.
^ Winter Solstice Song by Lisa Thiel.
^ Noon Solstice by Damh the Bard
^ Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale.
^ Nocturne by Secret Garden.
^ Winter Solstice Song by Lisa Thiel.
^ Noon Solstice by Damh the Bard
Changes
Hmmm... Interesting things, as of late.
Angelboy took me out to a really swank restaurant on Sunday. In all of the months that we have been dating, we realized that we have never had a nice dinner date. So we dressed up in our fanciest clothes - him looking delicious in a shirt and tie, contrasting nicely with his black hair and the silver hook dangling from his lip. I dressed in my emerald green dress with the black sash, silk and tulle that stops at my knees, so I could finally show off my cute black studded heels. And my collars, of course. The food was to die for, italian pasta that made my tongue dance, hot fresh bread dipped in oil, yumyumyuuuuuum. It was my first time trying white zinfandel wine, and it was quite a treat! We had a blast, and left the restaurant with stuffed tummies and glowing hearts. It was the first time in many many weeks that I have stopped being a hermit, and I was glad that Angelboy had the idea.
On Monday, I came into work and gave them my two weeks notice. I have been thinking about it a lot, and with winter around the corner, the idea of driving over two hours a day in ice and snow... I am convinced that I will get into a wreck and die. With Jack Frost getting stronger every morning, I figured that now was the time. I am tired of panicking about it every day.
I am actually quite excited about this new change. I won't miss the drive, nor will I miss working in an office. My madre agreed to let me work ten hours a week for her company, as she had been looking for an intern, and this will get me out of the house twice a week. In return, I have to start going back to counseling again. I agreed. At this point, I admit that I certainly could use some help.
In addition to working for my mother's company, I am going to spend the majority of my time working on my own. I am building the website and then I shall go out full-force and freelance - an opportunity that is both exciting and just plain terrifying. Gremlin thoughts of failure are abounding, the idea that my writing just won't be plain good enough.... But I try to ward those thoughts off with the reminder that I have been doing this kind of writing for several years, and in the last two months alone, I managed to get several jobs. This was without even really putting for an effort. So when I take the time to dedicate my energy and efforts towards building this business.... I mean, it has to work.
If nothing else, it is a change. It is a break in the monotony, leaving before a boring job where I spend almost my entire shift playing on Tumblr or just going through Facebook games... That isn't the kind of life I want. That isn't work to be proud of. So I am done.
I am moving on, moving to better things, making the change happen myself. And during all of this hard work, I will have more time to take care of myself, to go and talk to professional people who might help ease this terror that I have gone a bit crazy lately. More time to heal, more time to open up, more time to grow.
Bring it on. :)
Angelboy took me out to a really swank restaurant on Sunday. In all of the months that we have been dating, we realized that we have never had a nice dinner date. So we dressed up in our fanciest clothes - him looking delicious in a shirt and tie, contrasting nicely with his black hair and the silver hook dangling from his lip. I dressed in my emerald green dress with the black sash, silk and tulle that stops at my knees, so I could finally show off my cute black studded heels. And my collars, of course. The food was to die for, italian pasta that made my tongue dance, hot fresh bread dipped in oil, yumyumyuuuuuum. It was my first time trying white zinfandel wine, and it was quite a treat! We had a blast, and left the restaurant with stuffed tummies and glowing hearts. It was the first time in many many weeks that I have stopped being a hermit, and I was glad that Angelboy had the idea.
On Monday, I came into work and gave them my two weeks notice. I have been thinking about it a lot, and with winter around the corner, the idea of driving over two hours a day in ice and snow... I am convinced that I will get into a wreck and die. With Jack Frost getting stronger every morning, I figured that now was the time. I am tired of panicking about it every day.
I am actually quite excited about this new change. I won't miss the drive, nor will I miss working in an office. My madre agreed to let me work ten hours a week for her company, as she had been looking for an intern, and this will get me out of the house twice a week. In return, I have to start going back to counseling again. I agreed. At this point, I admit that I certainly could use some help.
In addition to working for my mother's company, I am going to spend the majority of my time working on my own. I am building the website and then I shall go out full-force and freelance - an opportunity that is both exciting and just plain terrifying. Gremlin thoughts of failure are abounding, the idea that my writing just won't be plain good enough.... But I try to ward those thoughts off with the reminder that I have been doing this kind of writing for several years, and in the last two months alone, I managed to get several jobs. This was without even really putting for an effort. So when I take the time to dedicate my energy and efforts towards building this business.... I mean, it has to work.
If nothing else, it is a change. It is a break in the monotony, leaving before a boring job where I spend almost my entire shift playing on Tumblr or just going through Facebook games... That isn't the kind of life I want. That isn't work to be proud of. So I am done.
I am moving on, moving to better things, making the change happen myself. And during all of this hard work, I will have more time to take care of myself, to go and talk to professional people who might help ease this terror that I have gone a bit crazy lately. More time to heal, more time to open up, more time to grow.
Bring it on. :)
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
No Apologies, Just Life
These past few weeks, I have been working hard at taking care of Me. Starchild. I have been focusing a lot of health, trying to express to the universe my gratitude at having this body to rejoice in. My caffeine intake has gone from like six or seven cans of pop a day (eeek!) to one at lunch, instead replacing the soda with yummy lemon-water and delicious teas. I haven't smoked a cigarette in seven weeks. I have been exercising again, but more importantly, I haven't been beating myself up when I miss a day. I have been taking vitamins and other nutrient pills to achieve a better physical/mental/emotional balance.
I have always looked healthy, but after four plus years being involved in exotic dancing, adult modeling, or just modeling in general... I have learned that there is a difference between looking healthy and feeling healthy. Feeling healthy, to me, is feeling energetic and alive, feel proud of your own body but not letting it stress you out. I WANT to learn to accept myself for all that I am, to put a halt to the 'Not Good Enough' gremlin thoughts that have been extra persistant lately. I want to accept the changes that my body will go through, to embrace it. I want to feel balanced, no matter what.
Balance has been on my mind a lot lately, especially because I haven't felt so unbalanced in a long time. This seclusion has been causing a few issues with some people close to me, and their words were hurtful. Most people have been understanding, but there was a particular confrontation that caused a lot of guilty and ashamed emotions. It took a few days to sort through their accusations and the feelings that they provoked, but things are easier now.
I do not think I am being selfish or rude by taking this time to myself, to go into hibernation. I feel like I need this seclusion, I need to wrap my world and condense it into healing. Trying to heal the pain and the rage that has been overwhelming, but most importantly, trying to heal the fear that has been all but crippling. I can't be apologetic for taking steps that my soul tells me that it needs - but I am sorry that I am not being the friend that others need. I have not been giving others the energy that they require - I have been saving it up and keeping it for myself, curling it around me in thin gossamer strands. I don't have enough to share right now, and I think that is okay too.
I am trying to sort things out and it is a painful process, but today, it actually feels like it has begun. I can look back and see the steps that I have taken, wobbling footsteps that falter but never stop. I have actually found myself at rock bottom, and it is taking a lot of time to dig myself out, trying to cultivate this tool called self-love that I have never been able to master. There is so much more to work on, but I can recognize the progress that I have made. And I am proud of that.
It's a hard journey, and I am trying not to run too far, too fast. I am trying to take it slow, one day at a time, seeing where this road may lead.
I have always looked healthy, but after four plus years being involved in exotic dancing, adult modeling, or just modeling in general... I have learned that there is a difference between looking healthy and feeling healthy. Feeling healthy, to me, is feeling energetic and alive, feel proud of your own body but not letting it stress you out. I WANT to learn to accept myself for all that I am, to put a halt to the 'Not Good Enough' gremlin thoughts that have been extra persistant lately. I want to accept the changes that my body will go through, to embrace it. I want to feel balanced, no matter what.
Balance has been on my mind a lot lately, especially because I haven't felt so unbalanced in a long time. This seclusion has been causing a few issues with some people close to me, and their words were hurtful. Most people have been understanding, but there was a particular confrontation that caused a lot of guilty and ashamed emotions. It took a few days to sort through their accusations and the feelings that they provoked, but things are easier now.
I do not think I am being selfish or rude by taking this time to myself, to go into hibernation. I feel like I need this seclusion, I need to wrap my world and condense it into healing. Trying to heal the pain and the rage that has been overwhelming, but most importantly, trying to heal the fear that has been all but crippling. I can't be apologetic for taking steps that my soul tells me that it needs - but I am sorry that I am not being the friend that others need. I have not been giving others the energy that they require - I have been saving it up and keeping it for myself, curling it around me in thin gossamer strands. I don't have enough to share right now, and I think that is okay too.
I am trying to sort things out and it is a painful process, but today, it actually feels like it has begun. I can look back and see the steps that I have taken, wobbling footsteps that falter but never stop. I have actually found myself at rock bottom, and it is taking a lot of time to dig myself out, trying to cultivate this tool called self-love that I have never been able to master. There is so much more to work on, but I can recognize the progress that I have made. And I am proud of that.
It's a hard journey, and I am trying not to run too far, too fast. I am trying to take it slow, one day at a time, seeing where this road may lead.
Monday, November 1, 2010
This is Halloween
One last splurge of Halloweenness before I officially admit that winter is about to strike.
Seriously... Can you say awesome? I want this house. I would keep all the lights up year round and annoy everyone everyday with glowing singing creepy voices. ^_^
Seriously... Can you say awesome? I want this house. I would keep all the lights up year round and annoy everyone everyday with glowing singing creepy voices. ^_^
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Gremlingirl returns
Warning: Negative Post Ahead
I haven't felt this emotionally volatile in a long time. October is always a very difficult month for me, and this year feels harder than ever. I haven't been writing in here lately because 1) my brand new laptop died and I won't have much internet access for a few weeks) and 2) I don't want people to have to read only negative entries.
I admire those people who can write only the positive things in their journal. But I am a very emotional person, and I feel everything with the upmost intensity. And I have a tendency of bearing everything to the world if I can get my fingers on a keyboard. I can't sort the good from the bad sometimes, and I neeeed a place to get it all out. All of the pain and the rawness and the screams and the snarls and the tears and every tender emotion that has been going through my head these past few weeks.
It feels like the more emotions I uncover, the more issues I discover. It is like an emotional minefield, and I keep discovering mindbombs that feel like they will tear me apart. The more I try to deal with, the more I try to heal, the more wounds I reveal. It is overwhelming and confusing and terrifying beyond belief.
I have dealt with mental illness since I was fifteen, so you would think that I would be used to it by now. But I am the type of person who refuses to be put on medication (I don't like putting chemicals in my body and pills typically zap away all of my creativity), and I have a tendency of pushing away therapists as soon as I feel like I am getting better. I have my labels, but I would rather learn to work my way through my issues and face them head on. This is generally where therapists and I disagree, so I try to deal with it on my own.
The thing is, these past two years, I thought I was better. I had a few intense badspirals, but for the most part, I was living a life that I was proud of. Adventures and clubbing and friends and raves and circuses, so many magical experiences. I was supporting myself, I was busy, I was working for a future. I was happy and I surrounded myself with peace and love and rainbows and sparkles and crafting, everything that brought me joy and reminded me of how lucky I was to be breathing.
I feel like I have taken a giant leap backwards. I thought I had healed, I thought that I had become stronger than my labels, but I guess the shadows were lurking inside of me all along. And now they are back, and the more I try to deal with them, the stronger they seem to get.
I can't sleep lately. I have a panic attack before I go to bed every night, because I am terrified that I will not wake up in the morning. Death has been constantly on my mind these past few months. This year has been filled with Death, and now I am conscious of my own mortality. Kajira thinks that this is a symptom of PTSD, after watching my own father die. I think she is right. Less than two weeks until the anniversary of his death, and I remember the terror in his eyes and how he was there one moment and then gone the next. And it feels me with terror, fills me with fear until I feel like I am actually dying, like the next breath I take will be my last. Then the panic attack happens.
I can't sleep, I keep breaking out into emotional outbursts of hysterical crying. I think I am going to quit my job before winter. The idea of driving through ice and snow two hours a day makes me panic. My brain has convinced myself that I will die in a car crash, and the idea of risking that is too much. I know this is crazy. But I can't help feeling this way.
I hate this panic. I hate this constant thread of fear. I hate these tears and this pain and how I am wasting these precious moments. I have myself locked up in a tiny cage and I can't open it up. I don't want to open it up. I miss my friends and I realize that the more I isolate myself, the unhappier I am.... But it is safer in here. I wish I could stay in my home until spring, warm and safe and without demands, dealing with all of these issues and emerging again in the spring, into sunshine and laughter and positivity.
I feel like I am going crazy, like I am losing control of this madness and I fear my own lack of strength. I miss my positivity, I miss my magic, I miss my own laughter and my wonder and joy at the world. Without that... I am just a gremlingirl, lost in shadows and being unable to tear her way free. I don't like this person that I have become these past few months, I don't like these emotions, and I don't like the fact that I feel weak and helpless and lost and alone.
I don't know what to do or how to move forward. I wish all of this would just fade away again.
I haven't felt this emotionally volatile in a long time. October is always a very difficult month for me, and this year feels harder than ever. I haven't been writing in here lately because 1) my brand new laptop died and I won't have much internet access for a few weeks) and 2) I don't want people to have to read only negative entries.
I admire those people who can write only the positive things in their journal. But I am a very emotional person, and I feel everything with the upmost intensity. And I have a tendency of bearing everything to the world if I can get my fingers on a keyboard. I can't sort the good from the bad sometimes, and I neeeed a place to get it all out. All of the pain and the rawness and the screams and the snarls and the tears and every tender emotion that has been going through my head these past few weeks.
It feels like the more emotions I uncover, the more issues I discover. It is like an emotional minefield, and I keep discovering mindbombs that feel like they will tear me apart. The more I try to deal with, the more I try to heal, the more wounds I reveal. It is overwhelming and confusing and terrifying beyond belief.
I have dealt with mental illness since I was fifteen, so you would think that I would be used to it by now. But I am the type of person who refuses to be put on medication (I don't like putting chemicals in my body and pills typically zap away all of my creativity), and I have a tendency of pushing away therapists as soon as I feel like I am getting better. I have my labels, but I would rather learn to work my way through my issues and face them head on. This is generally where therapists and I disagree, so I try to deal with it on my own.
The thing is, these past two years, I thought I was better. I had a few intense badspirals, but for the most part, I was living a life that I was proud of. Adventures and clubbing and friends and raves and circuses, so many magical experiences. I was supporting myself, I was busy, I was working for a future. I was happy and I surrounded myself with peace and love and rainbows and sparkles and crafting, everything that brought me joy and reminded me of how lucky I was to be breathing.
I feel like I have taken a giant leap backwards. I thought I had healed, I thought that I had become stronger than my labels, but I guess the shadows were lurking inside of me all along. And now they are back, and the more I try to deal with them, the stronger they seem to get.
I can't sleep lately. I have a panic attack before I go to bed every night, because I am terrified that I will not wake up in the morning. Death has been constantly on my mind these past few months. This year has been filled with Death, and now I am conscious of my own mortality. Kajira thinks that this is a symptom of PTSD, after watching my own father die. I think she is right. Less than two weeks until the anniversary of his death, and I remember the terror in his eyes and how he was there one moment and then gone the next. And it feels me with terror, fills me with fear until I feel like I am actually dying, like the next breath I take will be my last. Then the panic attack happens.
I can't sleep, I keep breaking out into emotional outbursts of hysterical crying. I think I am going to quit my job before winter. The idea of driving through ice and snow two hours a day makes me panic. My brain has convinced myself that I will die in a car crash, and the idea of risking that is too much. I know this is crazy. But I can't help feeling this way.
I hate this panic. I hate this constant thread of fear. I hate these tears and this pain and how I am wasting these precious moments. I have myself locked up in a tiny cage and I can't open it up. I don't want to open it up. I miss my friends and I realize that the more I isolate myself, the unhappier I am.... But it is safer in here. I wish I could stay in my home until spring, warm and safe and without demands, dealing with all of these issues and emerging again in the spring, into sunshine and laughter and positivity.
I feel like I am going crazy, like I am losing control of this madness and I fear my own lack of strength. I miss my positivity, I miss my magic, I miss my own laughter and my wonder and joy at the world. Without that... I am just a gremlingirl, lost in shadows and being unable to tear her way free. I don't like this person that I have become these past few months, I don't like these emotions, and I don't like the fact that I feel weak and helpless and lost and alone.
I don't know what to do or how to move forward. I wish all of this would just fade away again.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Inside out, upside down.
This weekend was filled with many ups and downs. These last two weeks, I have felt very vulnerable, these emotions raw and jagged and bubbling up to the surface when I least expect it. My beloved Kajira tells me that I have been bottling everything up since April, and the numbness has been breaking through.
For the most part, I had several amazing adventures. Angelboy and I had a lot of fun, having a Mad Max movie night and gorging on post-Apocalypse goodness while creating ATCs. I have gotten him addicted. I love that we can spend hours, side by side in a world of creations. Fingers stained with inks and acrylics and losing scisssors and glue in our hair, just laughing and inspiring each other. I love those moments.
We rounded up the last harvest from my garden, before dismantling everything and sweeping the earth under protective piles of leaves. Then we had adventures in the kitchen with my mother while she taught us how to create a feast of green-fried tomatoes, and homegrown sweet-potatoes and carrots drizzled in orange juice and cinammon, plus fall-time apple crisp!
Those are some of the good things. Some of the bad things included one really bad breakdown, just me bursting into tears while Angelboy tried to comfort me, looking boggled and confused. I came to the realization that I have spent these past few months just distracting myself from... myself. Searching for books and movies and silly facebook games, desperate to fill the hours with activities that keep me from thinking and feeling and being in my own skin. I told him how I hate that I have been a super hermit lately - in the last two months, I have only hung out with my friends once. But it has all been by my own choice.
I told him how I am not over what happened in the spring, and there was a blankness in his eyes that cut me to the core. He actually had to think back, recall the badness. And it just drove the point home - I don't think there is anything so isolating and painful as losing your baby before it can be born. And it will never hurt anyone as much as it hurts you - they can move on, it doesn't really affect their lives. Even Angelboy doesn't think about it anymore. It doesn't hurt him at all.
But these past two weeks especially, I keep remembering.
I want to scream at everyone. I want to punch walls and scream until my throat turns raw, I want to shout and break glass and snarl obscenties and destroy everything around me. I want to lash out. I want to just cry and cry and cry, until all of these salt rivers in my veins dry up. I want to hurt myself, that itch beneath the skin that always comes when things get too bad.
I am stronger than these urges, though. I haven't hurt myself in several years, and I don't plan on starting now. I just feel like a ball of bad emotions, of rage and pain and sadness. Because I feel like I am existing in a world that is comprised of emotional agony or total numbess. And nobody understands. Even my loved ones are confused, even they don't know what to say. There is just silence, and I feel pressure to keep silent, keep it all bottled up. Like it's been months, so I should have moved on....
But I can't. And none of them understand. And I have never felt as alone as I have felt these past six months.
And for once, I am tired of pretending to be positive, pretending like I am totally a-okay. Because I have been in pieces for months, and sometimes, just making it to the end of the day is a victory that no one else appreciates.
Blah. I think I am going to pick up journaling again, physically keeping a book and trying to create a visual journal. ATCs were the only thing that kept me sane and balanced this weekend, which reinforces the fact that I need to stop avoiding these emotions using books and internet games, and just deal with it head on. Preferably channeling all of this negativity into something productive, potentially beautiful.
We'll see how it goes.
For the most part, I had several amazing adventures. Angelboy and I had a lot of fun, having a Mad Max movie night and gorging on post-Apocalypse goodness while creating ATCs. I have gotten him addicted. I love that we can spend hours, side by side in a world of creations. Fingers stained with inks and acrylics and losing scisssors and glue in our hair, just laughing and inspiring each other. I love those moments.
We rounded up the last harvest from my garden, before dismantling everything and sweeping the earth under protective piles of leaves. Then we had adventures in the kitchen with my mother while she taught us how to create a feast of green-fried tomatoes, and homegrown sweet-potatoes and carrots drizzled in orange juice and cinammon, plus fall-time apple crisp!
Those are some of the good things. Some of the bad things included one really bad breakdown, just me bursting into tears while Angelboy tried to comfort me, looking boggled and confused. I came to the realization that I have spent these past few months just distracting myself from... myself. Searching for books and movies and silly facebook games, desperate to fill the hours with activities that keep me from thinking and feeling and being in my own skin. I told him how I hate that I have been a super hermit lately - in the last two months, I have only hung out with my friends once. But it has all been by my own choice.
I told him how I am not over what happened in the spring, and there was a blankness in his eyes that cut me to the core. He actually had to think back, recall the badness. And it just drove the point home - I don't think there is anything so isolating and painful as losing your baby before it can be born. And it will never hurt anyone as much as it hurts you - they can move on, it doesn't really affect their lives. Even Angelboy doesn't think about it anymore. It doesn't hurt him at all.
But these past two weeks especially, I keep remembering.
I want to scream at everyone. I want to punch walls and scream until my throat turns raw, I want to shout and break glass and snarl obscenties and destroy everything around me. I want to lash out. I want to just cry and cry and cry, until all of these salt rivers in my veins dry up. I want to hurt myself, that itch beneath the skin that always comes when things get too bad.
I am stronger than these urges, though. I haven't hurt myself in several years, and I don't plan on starting now. I just feel like a ball of bad emotions, of rage and pain and sadness. Because I feel like I am existing in a world that is comprised of emotional agony or total numbess. And nobody understands. Even my loved ones are confused, even they don't know what to say. There is just silence, and I feel pressure to keep silent, keep it all bottled up. Like it's been months, so I should have moved on....
But I can't. And none of them understand. And I have never felt as alone as I have felt these past six months.
And for once, I am tired of pretending to be positive, pretending like I am totally a-okay. Because I have been in pieces for months, and sometimes, just making it to the end of the day is a victory that no one else appreciates.
Blah. I think I am going to pick up journaling again, physically keeping a book and trying to create a visual journal. ATCs were the only thing that kept me sane and balanced this weekend, which reinforces the fact that I need to stop avoiding these emotions using books and internet games, and just deal with it head on. Preferably channeling all of this negativity into something productive, potentially beautiful.
We'll see how it goes.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Grateful
Fall always makes me feel sad, easily disrupting the emotional balance I have worked hard to forge together this summer. Winter always makes me sad, always brings on panic attacks and overdramatic fears that I will not last to see Spring.
Sooo, in an attempt to thwart such silly gremlins, I am going to make a gratitude list! Here are some things that I am grateful for this week!
Things I am Grateful For:
1. It has been a week and a half since I have smoked a cigarette! And after that single bad day last week, I haven't craved another one!
2. To reward myself for a week of no smoking, I bought a pair of 0g tribal spiral horn earrings. They arrived on my doorstep last night. Can you say BEAUTIFUL! It is soooo hard to find decently priced tribal earrings for 0g.... I will post pictures of them soon. :)
3. My friend Kanyon was in a really bad accident a few days ago. He got thrown from a rollercoaster and fractured his spine in three places. But he isn't dead, he isn't paralyzed, and we have been talking a lot, especially today. I am grateful for his life, grateful that he will make a full recovery, and grateful for his friendship.
4. I am going to make some practice poi this weekend! Kanyon invited me to the circus practices that are held every week in Ann Arbor, filled with beautiful people who learn hooping and poi and fire fans and rope dart, contortionism and contact juggling and all sorts of amazing things. Kanyon also offered to give me private lessons. He is an amazing performer, absolutely stunning. I am honored that he would help me out!
5. I get a three day weekend with my Angelboy! Whootwhoot! We are going to be doing a lot of crafting, cuz I have to send out some ATCs. Then my family is going to the National Daschund races that are held in our city every year (my niece and nephew go ga-ga over this - especially now that they have a daschund of their own!). So this weekend is going to be nice and relaxing and filled with the best of people!
6. I have been busy lately learning tarot! Or attempting, at least. I am pretty good at guessing the meanings of the Minor Arcana, but a lot of the Minor ones are a bit beyond me. But hey, I am learning and working with it every day, and it has been making me really happy!
Whew. See, silly gremlins? I have a lot to smile about and a lot to be thankful for! I would write more, but I probably should actually get some work done today. ;)
What are you grateful for?
Sooo, in an attempt to thwart such silly gremlins, I am going to make a gratitude list! Here are some things that I am grateful for this week!
Things I am Grateful For:
1. It has been a week and a half since I have smoked a cigarette! And after that single bad day last week, I haven't craved another one!
2. To reward myself for a week of no smoking, I bought a pair of 0g tribal spiral horn earrings. They arrived on my doorstep last night. Can you say BEAUTIFUL! It is soooo hard to find decently priced tribal earrings for 0g.... I will post pictures of them soon. :)
3. My friend Kanyon was in a really bad accident a few days ago. He got thrown from a rollercoaster and fractured his spine in three places. But he isn't dead, he isn't paralyzed, and we have been talking a lot, especially today. I am grateful for his life, grateful that he will make a full recovery, and grateful for his friendship.
4. I am going to make some practice poi this weekend! Kanyon invited me to the circus practices that are held every week in Ann Arbor, filled with beautiful people who learn hooping and poi and fire fans and rope dart, contortionism and contact juggling and all sorts of amazing things. Kanyon also offered to give me private lessons. He is an amazing performer, absolutely stunning. I am honored that he would help me out!
5. I get a three day weekend with my Angelboy! Whootwhoot! We are going to be doing a lot of crafting, cuz I have to send out some ATCs. Then my family is going to the National Daschund races that are held in our city every year (my niece and nephew go ga-ga over this - especially now that they have a daschund of their own!). So this weekend is going to be nice and relaxing and filled with the best of people!
6. I have been busy lately learning tarot! Or attempting, at least. I am pretty good at guessing the meanings of the Minor Arcana, but a lot of the Minor ones are a bit beyond me. But hey, I am learning and working with it every day, and it has been making me really happy!
Whew. See, silly gremlins? I have a lot to smile about and a lot to be thankful for! I would write more, but I probably should actually get some work done today. ;)
What are you grateful for?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Withdrawal
Today, this Starchild isn't shining too bright.
Yesterday was a fantastic day. I got some time in with my two favorite kidlings, I came home to find an amazing package filled with delightful goodies on my porch, courtesy of the amazing Karen who was my swap partner for the WWP Mabon Swap round. She put a lot of thought and effort into my gifts, and I don't think I stopped smiling for the rest of my night.
That was the highlight of my week. Then enter today. This is Day Two of me not smoking... I had quit for a long time this spring/summer, but I started up again in July after my grandfather and my grandmother died within three weeks of each other. Cigarettes are my family's way of dealing with stress, but I don't feel healthy anymore. I miss that feeling.
So, I am quitting. And this is the day that brings on the anxiety, the frustration, the fear. Panic fluttering against my veins, throbbing against my throat until I want to scream and punch things and run away. Gremlin sadgirlthoughts circling my brain, and while I know that all of these negative emotions are just a symptom of nicotine withdrawal, it is still tough to handle.
I just want to curl up in my bed and cry, feeling overwhelmed by this discontentment with my life, of feeling like I was supposed to ride that train on down the track, but I fell off somewhere and now I just feel... lost. Waiting. Waiting for something to happen. But nothing happens because I am not out there MAKING it happen... A vicious cycle.
I am trying to focus on positive things, but it is hard. I think that soon, I want to go on a master cleanse diet, drink only the syrup/pepper lemonade mixture for about ten days. Tons of my tree-hugging friends swear by it. It cleans the toxins right out of your body, gives you energy and when it is done, your system is clean and ready to start over. I want to start eating healthy again. I have been a vegetarian for nine years, but my body doesn't crave veggies or fruits. It likes carbs and processed food and tons of soda. I want my body to WANT to eat healthy foods.
I want to start taking care of myself. I never have a problem taking care of others, but I never take the time to take care of myself. There are times when I just don't think I am worth it. I don't want to be like that. I want to be healthy. Reenergized. I want to wipe the two-months of dust off of my hula hoop and enjoy the sunshine before it disappears beneath snow. Get back into yoga, start meditating. Find that balance again. Learn to find the beauty underneath my own skin. I haven't felt that in a while.
Maybe if I start taking care of myself, some of these Anti-Starchild gremlin thoughts will go away.
Bah. Nicotine withdrawals, get over soon, please? I don't like these emotions right now.
Yesterday was a fantastic day. I got some time in with my two favorite kidlings, I came home to find an amazing package filled with delightful goodies on my porch, courtesy of the amazing Karen who was my swap partner for the WWP Mabon Swap round. She put a lot of thought and effort into my gifts, and I don't think I stopped smiling for the rest of my night.
That was the highlight of my week. Then enter today. This is Day Two of me not smoking... I had quit for a long time this spring/summer, but I started up again in July after my grandfather and my grandmother died within three weeks of each other. Cigarettes are my family's way of dealing with stress, but I don't feel healthy anymore. I miss that feeling.
So, I am quitting. And this is the day that brings on the anxiety, the frustration, the fear. Panic fluttering against my veins, throbbing against my throat until I want to scream and punch things and run away. Gremlin sadgirlthoughts circling my brain, and while I know that all of these negative emotions are just a symptom of nicotine withdrawal, it is still tough to handle.
I just want to curl up in my bed and cry, feeling overwhelmed by this discontentment with my life, of feeling like I was supposed to ride that train on down the track, but I fell off somewhere and now I just feel... lost. Waiting. Waiting for something to happen. But nothing happens because I am not out there MAKING it happen... A vicious cycle.
I am trying to focus on positive things, but it is hard. I think that soon, I want to go on a master cleanse diet, drink only the syrup/pepper lemonade mixture for about ten days. Tons of my tree-hugging friends swear by it. It cleans the toxins right out of your body, gives you energy and when it is done, your system is clean and ready to start over. I want to start eating healthy again. I have been a vegetarian for nine years, but my body doesn't crave veggies or fruits. It likes carbs and processed food and tons of soda. I want my body to WANT to eat healthy foods.
I want to start taking care of myself. I never have a problem taking care of others, but I never take the time to take care of myself. There are times when I just don't think I am worth it. I don't want to be like that. I want to be healthy. Reenergized. I want to wipe the two-months of dust off of my hula hoop and enjoy the sunshine before it disappears beneath snow. Get back into yoga, start meditating. Find that balance again. Learn to find the beauty underneath my own skin. I haven't felt that in a while.
Maybe if I start taking care of myself, some of these Anti-Starchild gremlin thoughts will go away.
Bah. Nicotine withdrawals, get over soon, please? I don't like these emotions right now.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Beautiful Thing about Ashes...
My friend Kanyon is a firespinner, and he posted this video. He said that it helped him a lot when learning poi. I watched this and I literally burst into tears. Beautiful.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Life is a series of blurs...
I finally managed to snag a few spare moments to write. Life has been busy in the most amazing of ways. There is always so much to do, and at the end of the day, there is always so much left over to be finished. These days have turned into blurs of work, of driving, of fingers nimbly trying to tie off threads or wield needles without stabbing myself, of hours in the kitchen with glasses of wine and the most amazing aromas rising off of the stove to tantalize my tummy. Filled with crafting and phone calls and visits, trying to balance all of these responsibilities at once. The evenings are gone in a flash and then it is time to tumble into bed again, scrape together enough sleep to rise alongside of the sun the next morning.
Life has been crazybusy but filled with so much positivity at the same time. Work takes up most of my time, and while I know that I don't want a longterm career stuck in an office, it is nice to have a stable job and the ability to feel a bit productive. On the side, I have also started doing some freelance writing, which is both terrifying and exciting. I have two major jobs that will be due in the next three weeks, demanding a lot of my nonexistant spare time - but it will pay off majorly. Two projects will equal almost two months of pay at my dayjob, and my mind almost dizzy with gratitude. I can use those dollars to pay for the medical bills from unisured hospital visits this past Spring, to start paying off this strangling debt and finally find balance.
Then I can start finally saving up, so Angelboy and I can leave Ohio when he finishes school this upcoming spring. We can head to the West Coast, I can work on my computer, we can travel and see the world. I can get my tattoos and my dreads and follow this silly heart, find freedom while balancing responsibility.
But starting a freelance business is scary, especially when I am constantly battling against low-self esteem, chittering voices that warn me of failure and cruel mockery. Nevermind the fact that I have been doing editing, proof-reading, and technical writing for my mother's company since I was about thirteen years old... I am still plagued with these worries that my attempts and my work will just be plain... not good enough.
Sometimes, it is hard to tell gremlins to shut up and go away.
So, yeah. My free-time is going to get a lot more limited, but all for positive reasons. I just hope that I will be bale to find enough moments to merit joining the Crafster Samhain swap that will be coming up soon. I don't want to join unless I am positive I will have enough time to put a lot of work into my crafts. Samhain seems to be the most popular WWP swap, and I already have some ideas, so I would be sad to miss out on this one. I am having an absolute blast will the Mabon swap - there are just so many wonderful, beautiful souls in this community and I feel honored to slowly be getting to know them.
All of these ideas and crafting have been making my heart shine and my smiles constant. Since Spring, I have been letting myself rest in a fog of shadows, cut off from the world and myself, and lost to all creative impulses. I still feel rusty when it comes to crafting, and a little anxious that my projects won't be quite up to par (again, silly self-esteem gremlins rearing their ugly heads!). But regardless of all of that, it feels good to craft again, good to be inspired, good to be getting in touch with my spirituality once more.
I really missed this. :)
Life has been crazybusy but filled with so much positivity at the same time. Work takes up most of my time, and while I know that I don't want a longterm career stuck in an office, it is nice to have a stable job and the ability to feel a bit productive. On the side, I have also started doing some freelance writing, which is both terrifying and exciting. I have two major jobs that will be due in the next three weeks, demanding a lot of my nonexistant spare time - but it will pay off majorly. Two projects will equal almost two months of pay at my dayjob, and my mind almost dizzy with gratitude. I can use those dollars to pay for the medical bills from unisured hospital visits this past Spring, to start paying off this strangling debt and finally find balance.
Then I can start finally saving up, so Angelboy and I can leave Ohio when he finishes school this upcoming spring. We can head to the West Coast, I can work on my computer, we can travel and see the world. I can get my tattoos and my dreads and follow this silly heart, find freedom while balancing responsibility.
But starting a freelance business is scary, especially when I am constantly battling against low-self esteem, chittering voices that warn me of failure and cruel mockery. Nevermind the fact that I have been doing editing, proof-reading, and technical writing for my mother's company since I was about thirteen years old... I am still plagued with these worries that my attempts and my work will just be plain... not good enough.
Sometimes, it is hard to tell gremlins to shut up and go away.
So, yeah. My free-time is going to get a lot more limited, but all for positive reasons. I just hope that I will be bale to find enough moments to merit joining the Crafster Samhain swap that will be coming up soon. I don't want to join unless I am positive I will have enough time to put a lot of work into my crafts. Samhain seems to be the most popular WWP swap, and I already have some ideas, so I would be sad to miss out on this one. I am having an absolute blast will the Mabon swap - there are just so many wonderful, beautiful souls in this community and I feel honored to slowly be getting to know them.
All of these ideas and crafting have been making my heart shine and my smiles constant. Since Spring, I have been letting myself rest in a fog of shadows, cut off from the world and myself, and lost to all creative impulses. I still feel rusty when it comes to crafting, and a little anxious that my projects won't be quite up to par (again, silly self-esteem gremlins rearing their ugly heads!). But regardless of all of that, it feels good to craft again, good to be inspired, good to be getting in touch with my spirituality once more.
I really missed this. :)
Monday, August 23, 2010
Book of Shadows
My mother went out and bought me a new laptop over the weekend, a birthday present that serves the dual purpose of getting me off of her business computer, which I have been using for the past few months to satisfy my addictions to silly games and to stalk Craftster).
It is beautiful, a dark black-red that makes my heart happy. And I am ready to (re)start a big project - working on my Book of Shadows. Several times during the past few years, I have attempted to gather all of my beliefs, favorite artwork, poems, etc., into one primary source. The plan has always been to keep an electronic copy, print out a few pages at a time and gather them into a three-ring binder, and eventually copy down by hand into a more elegant bound book.
Needless to say, my attempts at an electronic version have not gone very well. Over the past year and a half, three BoS versions have been mysteriously deleted or lost with computer crashes/deaths. And I have found that having a central collection of information greatly helps my ability to learn, process, and grow. As I am still very new to discovering my pagan path, this book is very important to me, giving me a place to explore and edit and change as my discoveries reveal new revelations.
It is a bit frustration to start back at square one (again!), but the excitement is far outweighing any frustration at this point. I have been looking forward to this for about six months now, and it is time to start gathering up all of the little scraps of paper that I tried to use to jot down little notes, time to organize things again and give my witchy wonderings a place to rest.
*happy starchild wiggledances*
It is beautiful, a dark black-red that makes my heart happy. And I am ready to (re)start a big project - working on my Book of Shadows. Several times during the past few years, I have attempted to gather all of my beliefs, favorite artwork, poems, etc., into one primary source. The plan has always been to keep an electronic copy, print out a few pages at a time and gather them into a three-ring binder, and eventually copy down by hand into a more elegant bound book.
Needless to say, my attempts at an electronic version have not gone very well. Over the past year and a half, three BoS versions have been mysteriously deleted or lost with computer crashes/deaths. And I have found that having a central collection of information greatly helps my ability to learn, process, and grow. As I am still very new to discovering my pagan path, this book is very important to me, giving me a place to explore and edit and change as my discoveries reveal new revelations.
It is a bit frustration to start back at square one (again!), but the excitement is far outweighing any frustration at this point. I have been looking forward to this for about six months now, and it is time to start gathering up all of the little scraps of paper that I tried to use to jot down little notes, time to organize things again and give my witchy wonderings a place to rest.
*happy starchild wiggledances*
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Mabon Swap!
This week has been relatively uneventful. The seasons are beginning to shift and that has put me into a contemplative state, just retreating back into my head and holing up inside of my home. Just taking the time to enjoy the peace and serenity.
I do find myself busy with one thing, however, and that is the WWP Mabon swap, a craft swap on Craftster where you are given a partner, learn about their tastes, and make gifts for them based upon a central theme. The WWP (Witch/Wiccan/Pagan) swaps have been going on for several years now, and I have contented myself with stalking the last year's worth of swaps. So many amazing crafts, so much inspiration everywhere!
And this time, I was able to sign up for a round! Mabon is fast approaching, summer fading into autumn, and that is the swap I have joined! I wish I could explain my excitement - I have so many ideas swirling at warp speed through my head! I am going to go to the craft store today and pick up some supplies - and I think I shall be trying a craft that I have never tried before! This makes me excited but nervous, so we shall see how it goes! :)
I do find myself busy with one thing, however, and that is the WWP Mabon swap, a craft swap on Craftster where you are given a partner, learn about their tastes, and make gifts for them based upon a central theme. The WWP (Witch/Wiccan/Pagan) swaps have been going on for several years now, and I have contented myself with stalking the last year's worth of swaps. So many amazing crafts, so much inspiration everywhere!
And this time, I was able to sign up for a round! Mabon is fast approaching, summer fading into autumn, and that is the swap I have joined! I wish I could explain my excitement - I have so many ideas swirling at warp speed through my head! I am going to go to the craft store today and pick up some supplies - and I think I shall be trying a craft that I have never tried before! This makes me excited but nervous, so we shall see how it goes! :)
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Wedding Adventures!
This weekend was one of craziness with my older sister Aimee getting married to her sweetheart of the past seven years. It was hectic and intense and there were moments when I wanted to scream from frustration and moments when my heart swelled with so much joy, I thought it would burst into a cloud of glitterdust.
Friday, the whole family gathered together for the rehearsal and the following dinner at the bowling alley. The rehearsal went smoothly, but tensions were running very high at the bowling alley, with my mother feeling out of place and upset and frustrated and angry. Her emotions were very negative and volatile, but my sister Danielle and I tried to be compassionate, trying to understand where she was coming from. After a few hours, though, my nerves couldn't take it anymore, and the entire family was feeling a bit frayed around the edges.
Things loosened up some once we got a bowling game started for the sake of my young niece and nephew. They shrieked with laughter and slipped over the lane and threw the balls against the gutters and did silly dances when they knocked over pins. Their joy was infectious, and soon they also drew me, my sister Danielle (their mother) and Angelboy into a game, and even my mother was smiling at the end of it.
Saturday was the wedding. We were awake at six am to head to breakfast before going to the salon to start getting out hair done. Angelboy was amazing, driving me, Danielle, and my niece Skylar around everywhere. All of the hair stylists were amazed, he just smiled and watched me get my hair done and read a book, and didn't complain when one hour turned to two and a half. I was glad my stylist did a good job with my updo - since my hair goes down to my hips, it took a while to do, but it rocked.
Then Angelboy drove us to the Catholic church where we girls climbed into our dresses. He turned into a tailor when I needed him too, pinning my dress up (it was two inches too long, even with my four inch heels! Darn being so short!), taking pictures of Skylar all dressed up as a flower girl, running to the car in the rain to get makeup. That boy is truly one of a kind.
The wedding was absolutely beautiful. The church was a stunning cathedral with paintings all over the ceilings, elaborate altars, candles, incense. The ceremony itself was rather short, and my sister Aimee stole all hearts. She looked simply... exquisite. The picture of perfection, her shimmery eyes visible beneath the delicate veil that obscured her gaze like gossamer, her white gown, the sparkles at her throat. The joy on her face and the face of her new husband, Ryan, as they joined together... It was truly beautiful and I wish them nothing but the best of luck and all of the happiness in the world.
There were two hours of pictures taken afterwards, sweating in the hothotsun, so by the time we made it to the reception, we were in bad need of flipflops, drinks, and air-conditioning. It was good to dance, spinning around with my Angelboy on the dancefloor, little kids stopping me to ask if they could touch the sharp spikes of my collars, watching my seven year old nephew Ethan catch the garter, his giggle and grin of pride when he showed it off.
It was a fabulous weekend, truly told. Exhausting in every way, but fabulous nonetheless. I feel much more... balanced. Truly appreciative of all the wonderful people in my life and grateful for the many blessings that the Goddess has given me.
I feel like I have found the magick and joy in life again, a jolt that I was needing desperately.
All is well in this Starchild's world. :)
Friday, the whole family gathered together for the rehearsal and the following dinner at the bowling alley. The rehearsal went smoothly, but tensions were running very high at the bowling alley, with my mother feeling out of place and upset and frustrated and angry. Her emotions were very negative and volatile, but my sister Danielle and I tried to be compassionate, trying to understand where she was coming from. After a few hours, though, my nerves couldn't take it anymore, and the entire family was feeling a bit frayed around the edges.
Things loosened up some once we got a bowling game started for the sake of my young niece and nephew. They shrieked with laughter and slipped over the lane and threw the balls against the gutters and did silly dances when they knocked over pins. Their joy was infectious, and soon they also drew me, my sister Danielle (their mother) and Angelboy into a game, and even my mother was smiling at the end of it.
Saturday was the wedding. We were awake at six am to head to breakfast before going to the salon to start getting out hair done. Angelboy was amazing, driving me, Danielle, and my niece Skylar around everywhere. All of the hair stylists were amazed, he just smiled and watched me get my hair done and read a book, and didn't complain when one hour turned to two and a half. I was glad my stylist did a good job with my updo - since my hair goes down to my hips, it took a while to do, but it rocked.
Then Angelboy drove us to the Catholic church where we girls climbed into our dresses. He turned into a tailor when I needed him too, pinning my dress up (it was two inches too long, even with my four inch heels! Darn being so short!), taking pictures of Skylar all dressed up as a flower girl, running to the car in the rain to get makeup. That boy is truly one of a kind.
The wedding was absolutely beautiful. The church was a stunning cathedral with paintings all over the ceilings, elaborate altars, candles, incense. The ceremony itself was rather short, and my sister Aimee stole all hearts. She looked simply... exquisite. The picture of perfection, her shimmery eyes visible beneath the delicate veil that obscured her gaze like gossamer, her white gown, the sparkles at her throat. The joy on her face and the face of her new husband, Ryan, as they joined together... It was truly beautiful and I wish them nothing but the best of luck and all of the happiness in the world.
There were two hours of pictures taken afterwards, sweating in the hothotsun, so by the time we made it to the reception, we were in bad need of flipflops, drinks, and air-conditioning. It was good to dance, spinning around with my Angelboy on the dancefloor, little kids stopping me to ask if they could touch the sharp spikes of my collars, watching my seven year old nephew Ethan catch the garter, his giggle and grin of pride when he showed it off.
It was a fabulous weekend, truly told. Exhausting in every way, but fabulous nonetheless. I feel much more... balanced. Truly appreciative of all the wonderful people in my life and grateful for the many blessings that the Goddess has given me.
I feel like I have found the magick and joy in life again, a jolt that I was needing desperately.
All is well in this Starchild's world. :)
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Missing the Winged Girl
These last few weeks have been a roller-coaster whirlwind, it feels. Ever since the postcards have started coming, my emotions have been tospy-turvy. Tears come every day, anxiety dances beneath my skin and I have taken up the bad-habit of smoking again, something I was proud to have quit at the beginning of the summer. I miss that girl, miss her smile, miss the nights we stayed up all night talking. I miss our connection, how we could sense each other's emotions even two time zones away. I have never been able to open up to anyone the way that I did her - and vice versa. My family knew her, adored her, welcomed the thought of bringing her into our family when we grew up and got married.
I miss her. But betrayal still stings me, makes me relook at our past and wonder where that girl I fell in love with went - because the girl I loved wouldn't have spun such untruths and falsehoods around me. She is a stranger to me now, but my heart still yearns. Still aches. Some days, it is all I can do to keep from picking up the phone and calling to hear her voice. But it is hard. I know that my Angelboy will be threatened, I will lose the rest of my friends, and I can't even count on the fact that she would tell the truth.
My heart is sore and swollen, feeling at once too-full and yet so empty. I have been picking fights with Angelboy, unable to get past this feeling of frustration and anger and sadness. Afterwards, I am always ashamed. I feel stuck in a rut, unable to move, unable to journey forwards or backwards. Mud climbing up my legs, keeping me firmly rooted. Stuck in stagnation, which has always been my biggest fear. When life becomes stagnant and I feel trapped, I panic, grow anxious and start lashing out, start pushing people away.
I have been trying to stay superbusy, and so far, that has helped a lot. This past week has been filled with family adventures, as my youngest-older sister Aimee is getting married on Saturday. This week has been a whirlwind of shopping and gifts and dresses and shoes and nails and hair, everyone working themselves to the bone to give her this perfect amazing day. She deserves it.
Yet even amidst the hectic craziness of pre-wedding activities, my mother still found time to show her own craftiness. She is a goddess of the kitchen, a skill that neither my sister Danielle nor I seem to have gotten. She doesn't follow recipes, just makes things up as they go along, throwing in a dash of this and a dash of that, and creating nothing but the most mouth-watering delicacies.
This week, she taught Danielle and I how to can. On Monday, we spent hours peeling and cutting up tomotoes, cucumbers, onions, garlic, cilantro, throwing them all together to make the most delicious salsa ever. We have 27 jars to show for our hard work, and three jars have been consumed in the last three days alone. Tuesday, we spent seven hours cutting cucumbers after cucumbers, making dill pickles, bread and butter sliced pickles, hamburger pickles, pickled tomatoes, pickled cauliflower, and lots of relish. At the end of the night, all three of us were ready to drop from exhaustion. Yet we had 72 jars of various pickles proudly stacked on the table.
Those were the highlights of the week, time with the mother I admire and the sister I adore, laughing and joking and teasing and sharing and learning and creating together. Magic.
I miss her. But betrayal still stings me, makes me relook at our past and wonder where that girl I fell in love with went - because the girl I loved wouldn't have spun such untruths and falsehoods around me. She is a stranger to me now, but my heart still yearns. Still aches. Some days, it is all I can do to keep from picking up the phone and calling to hear her voice. But it is hard. I know that my Angelboy will be threatened, I will lose the rest of my friends, and I can't even count on the fact that she would tell the truth.
My heart is sore and swollen, feeling at once too-full and yet so empty. I have been picking fights with Angelboy, unable to get past this feeling of frustration and anger and sadness. Afterwards, I am always ashamed. I feel stuck in a rut, unable to move, unable to journey forwards or backwards. Mud climbing up my legs, keeping me firmly rooted. Stuck in stagnation, which has always been my biggest fear. When life becomes stagnant and I feel trapped, I panic, grow anxious and start lashing out, start pushing people away.
I have been trying to stay superbusy, and so far, that has helped a lot. This past week has been filled with family adventures, as my youngest-older sister Aimee is getting married on Saturday. This week has been a whirlwind of shopping and gifts and dresses and shoes and nails and hair, everyone working themselves to the bone to give her this perfect amazing day. She deserves it.
Yet even amidst the hectic craziness of pre-wedding activities, my mother still found time to show her own craftiness. She is a goddess of the kitchen, a skill that neither my sister Danielle nor I seem to have gotten. She doesn't follow recipes, just makes things up as they go along, throwing in a dash of this and a dash of that, and creating nothing but the most mouth-watering delicacies.
This week, she taught Danielle and I how to can. On Monday, we spent hours peeling and cutting up tomotoes, cucumbers, onions, garlic, cilantro, throwing them all together to make the most delicious salsa ever. We have 27 jars to show for our hard work, and three jars have been consumed in the last three days alone. Tuesday, we spent seven hours cutting cucumbers after cucumbers, making dill pickles, bread and butter sliced pickles, hamburger pickles, pickled tomatoes, pickled cauliflower, and lots of relish. At the end of the night, all three of us were ready to drop from exhaustion. Yet we had 72 jars of various pickles proudly stacked on the table.
Those were the highlights of the week, time with the mother I admire and the sister I adore, laughing and joking and teasing and sharing and learning and creating together. Magic.
Monday, July 19, 2010
A true story...
There once was this girl with the heart of a star. And she loved this girl who had wings like a bird. The winged girl was the most beautiful creature Starchild had ever seen. They became friends and Stargirl fell in love. They had two years together, filled with talks that would last all night long, staying up under the stars and weaving their fingers together and cuddling and kissing. Even when they found boylovers, they vowed to stay true to each other, vowed to raise a family together of the most beautiful wildtribal things, have a house with giant trees and gardens and rainbow colored walls, where everyone dressed in beads and feathers depending on their mood: one could be a faerie, a pirate, a dryad, a warrior, an Indian, a priestess. Anything their hearts desired, they would become.
For two years, they watched boylovers come and go. And they were happy. Beyond happy. Stargirl had never been able to open up before. She had spent years in sorrow and isolation, unable to connect with anyone. They saw her starshine and they pushed her away. And then she met the Winged One, who understood the beauty of the sky, the moonlight keeping you aloft, finding dreams amongst the stars. She wanted to be with the Winged Girl always, and although they pledged their love, although they planned on staying together always, Stargirl knew in her heart that she would never been enough for the Winged Girl, knew that her love would always yearn for boylovers who could complete her much more than the silly child like body that Stargirl had.
Starchild knew that the Winged Girl wasn’t perfect. She would tell falsehoods to the people who were close to her, would fall into the beds of random boys who would never see her beauty. Stargirl watched as the Winged Girl dabbled in powders that brought her some peace, lost herself in greensmoke to get her out of her body, watched as she tore apart friendships by sleeping with best friends and getting what she wanted. Starchild wanted to make the Winged Girl happy – she knew that her girllove only did these things because she felt lost, because she didn’t know herself, because she was trying to find happiness where it couldn’t be found. Starchild held on, even when the Winged Girl moved far away in the attempt to find herself, even when all of the lies began to unravel in her wake. Stargirl still loved her, knew that no matter how many foolish decisions Winged Girl might make, her angelgirl would always be true to her, would always be honest, would always be there.
One night, Stargirl sat in the forest, looking up at her brethren sparkling in the skies above her, yearning for her winged love. There was a rustle in the bushes and a skunk emerged, cloaked in his black and white fur and his sadsad eyes. The skunk wiggled his little nose into Stargirl’s ear, knowing that he was about to break her heart, but knowing that the truth had to emerge.
And that was when the Starchild learned of her Winged Girl’s betrayals. How she had gone after Starchild’s boylovers, taken them into her bed in an attempt of conquest. Not just one, for Starchild thought she might have been able to forgive that. But she could not forgive four. She remembered the way the Winged Girl had told her to give up a lover that she had liked, telling her how terrible he was, a monsterman. She had listened to the love of her heart, not knowing that less than a week later, her Wingedlove and Monsterman had laid together in sheets soaked with their sweat and their moans.
Starchild discovered the betrayals, one after another. The lies unraveled, lies told to her by the one person she had always counted on for the truth. And then the Winged Girl changed in her eyes, became a stranger. And the Starchild thought she would die of the pain. She planned to die. Surely, anything had to be better than such emptiness. Winged Girl could not excuse her actions and with one swift motion, their lives were severed forever. The months passed and Starchild began to fade away, lose her shine. She felt bound to the earth, bound to the shadows. She had lost the taste of flight, the future she had dreamed of, her best friend, the mate of her heart. She cried every night. She thought of her winged girl every day.
Then the Starchild found an Angelboy, who kissed away her tears and had a generous heart. He did not judge her for not being able to open up, for always keeping a part of her hidden. He would see the pain in her eyes and hold her close, not asking for their cause, just offering his quiet support. His honesty helped her, the way his eyes never focused on other girls, and Starchild knew that she would always be enough for him, that he saw her sparkle and loved her for it. He was always there, even when Starchild’s belly began to swell with new life, even when the blood began and death entered her body. They healed together, they grew together. Starchild learned to grow hard, knew how to be strong for herself for the first time in her life, felt made of up knives and glass that only Angelkisses could soften. She stopped thinking of the Winged Girl every day, slowly grew into her own life, although she knew the emptiness never fully go away.
And then one day, a mysterious letter arrived. Unsigned and with no return address, it bore words of apologies grasped from beloved songs, invoking threads of nostalgia. There were images of lands that Starchild had dreamed of, and the paper smelled like the wild wind that only blows high above the earth. She knew at once that it had come from her Winged Girl, and her newly healed heart broke again. It broke each time a letter came, one every few days, always bearing the same message of regret and yearning for the past.
Everytime a letter comes, unsigned and expected, Starchild feels the tears come. And the pain comes. And her heart breaks over and over again. She loved the Winged Girl more than she ever thought possible, but she knows that the past cannot be changed. Broken trust cannot be reforged, broken dreams cannot be mended. A love built on lies was never love to begin with, only a beautiful delusion. And Starchild knows it is probably better this way.
'Sisi told Pico that he could never comprehend her, that her whole life was flight while he was doomed to trudge the dust, his lust for sky unrequited.
“But the kisses,” he said.
“They were only half kisses and this you know,” she told him. “I could never wholly kiss a wingless boy. The taste of sky is absent from your tongue.” And he felt that he knew this, that what he sought on her lips was what he lacked.' - The Book of Flying by Keith Miller
For two years, they watched boylovers come and go. And they were happy. Beyond happy. Stargirl had never been able to open up before. She had spent years in sorrow and isolation, unable to connect with anyone. They saw her starshine and they pushed her away. And then she met the Winged One, who understood the beauty of the sky, the moonlight keeping you aloft, finding dreams amongst the stars. She wanted to be with the Winged Girl always, and although they pledged their love, although they planned on staying together always, Stargirl knew in her heart that she would never been enough for the Winged Girl, knew that her love would always yearn for boylovers who could complete her much more than the silly child like body that Stargirl had.
Starchild knew that the Winged Girl wasn’t perfect. She would tell falsehoods to the people who were close to her, would fall into the beds of random boys who would never see her beauty. Stargirl watched as the Winged Girl dabbled in powders that brought her some peace, lost herself in greensmoke to get her out of her body, watched as she tore apart friendships by sleeping with best friends and getting what she wanted. Starchild wanted to make the Winged Girl happy – she knew that her girllove only did these things because she felt lost, because she didn’t know herself, because she was trying to find happiness where it couldn’t be found. Starchild held on, even when the Winged Girl moved far away in the attempt to find herself, even when all of the lies began to unravel in her wake. Stargirl still loved her, knew that no matter how many foolish decisions Winged Girl might make, her angelgirl would always be true to her, would always be honest, would always be there.
One night, Stargirl sat in the forest, looking up at her brethren sparkling in the skies above her, yearning for her winged love. There was a rustle in the bushes and a skunk emerged, cloaked in his black and white fur and his sadsad eyes. The skunk wiggled his little nose into Stargirl’s ear, knowing that he was about to break her heart, but knowing that the truth had to emerge.
And that was when the Starchild learned of her Winged Girl’s betrayals. How she had gone after Starchild’s boylovers, taken them into her bed in an attempt of conquest. Not just one, for Starchild thought she might have been able to forgive that. But she could not forgive four. She remembered the way the Winged Girl had told her to give up a lover that she had liked, telling her how terrible he was, a monsterman. She had listened to the love of her heart, not knowing that less than a week later, her Wingedlove and Monsterman had laid together in sheets soaked with their sweat and their moans.
Starchild discovered the betrayals, one after another. The lies unraveled, lies told to her by the one person she had always counted on for the truth. And then the Winged Girl changed in her eyes, became a stranger. And the Starchild thought she would die of the pain. She planned to die. Surely, anything had to be better than such emptiness. Winged Girl could not excuse her actions and with one swift motion, their lives were severed forever. The months passed and Starchild began to fade away, lose her shine. She felt bound to the earth, bound to the shadows. She had lost the taste of flight, the future she had dreamed of, her best friend, the mate of her heart. She cried every night. She thought of her winged girl every day.
Then the Starchild found an Angelboy, who kissed away her tears and had a generous heart. He did not judge her for not being able to open up, for always keeping a part of her hidden. He would see the pain in her eyes and hold her close, not asking for their cause, just offering his quiet support. His honesty helped her, the way his eyes never focused on other girls, and Starchild knew that she would always be enough for him, that he saw her sparkle and loved her for it. He was always there, even when Starchild’s belly began to swell with new life, even when the blood began and death entered her body. They healed together, they grew together. Starchild learned to grow hard, knew how to be strong for herself for the first time in her life, felt made of up knives and glass that only Angelkisses could soften. She stopped thinking of the Winged Girl every day, slowly grew into her own life, although she knew the emptiness never fully go away.
And then one day, a mysterious letter arrived. Unsigned and with no return address, it bore words of apologies grasped from beloved songs, invoking threads of nostalgia. There were images of lands that Starchild had dreamed of, and the paper smelled like the wild wind that only blows high above the earth. She knew at once that it had come from her Winged Girl, and her newly healed heart broke again. It broke each time a letter came, one every few days, always bearing the same message of regret and yearning for the past.
Everytime a letter comes, unsigned and expected, Starchild feels the tears come. And the pain comes. And her heart breaks over and over again. She loved the Winged Girl more than she ever thought possible, but she knows that the past cannot be changed. Broken trust cannot be reforged, broken dreams cannot be mended. A love built on lies was never love to begin with, only a beautiful delusion. And Starchild knows it is probably better this way.
'Sisi told Pico that he could never comprehend her, that her whole life was flight while he was doomed to trudge the dust, his lust for sky unrequited.
“But the kisses,” he said.
“They were only half kisses and this you know,” she told him. “I could never wholly kiss a wingless boy. The taste of sky is absent from your tongue.” And he felt that he knew this, that what he sought on her lips was what he lacked.' - The Book of Flying by Keith Miller
Monday, July 12, 2010
July Blues
This week has been a really tough one, emotionally speaking. On the 4th of July, my grandfather died. My sister and I ventured down to Columbus for the funeral, and while it was good to see my aunts and cousins who had to fly in, there was a lot of tension and bad energy in the air when my ex-stepmother decided to show up to pay her respects. As she cheated on my father when he was dying of cancer, was married again a month and a half after he died, and stole two hundred thousand dollars of inheritance money that was supposed to go to my sister and myself... Well, I was impressed that the arguing and death-glares were kept to a strict minimum.
They buried my grandfather in his WWII uniform, along with a satchel of love letters that he had saved from my grandmother, who had written him constantly during the war. It was a beautiful ceremony, the first half Catholic with purple robes and the embracing stone of a medieval church, stained glass rainbows flickering through the sweltering heat. The rosaries and Communion brought peace to the hearts of my sister, my aunts and uncles, and later, we walked to the graveyard where the air force soldiers waited. They played the taps, folded the flag, and knelt down to the ground, presenting it to my eldest cousin, Dustin. His strong shoulders bowed as he accepted the flag, and he started to cry. That is when my own heart burst open, and these tears began to flow. My sister and I held hands and cried together. "It feels like Dad died all over again," she told me, weeping. And it's true.
My grandfather left me a quilt that used to belong to my father when he was my age, hand-sewn by his grandmother. After my daddy died, my step-mother refused to give us anything that belonged to him. I had to fight tooth and nail, and call a lawyer, in order to get an old guitar that he had wanted me to half. That was it. My sister wasn't even allowed to get that much. All she has are images, blurry pictures that keep his face alive in our souls. I cried when I got the quilt. I buried my face into the fabric, expecting it to smell like him: cigarettes and cologne and safety and warmth. It didn't, but I feel better having it nearby. I was also allowed to take a few other things that had belonged to my grandpa: some of his name tags that had been sewn to his uniforms, some movies that I had watched over and over again with my father, and an amazing rock collection that had belonged to my grandmother. She was the one who made me obsessed with rocks, and I spent countless hours as a child just examining her collection, studying the giant quartz crystals and the shells, watching the colors flash and gleam into the most amazing of rainbows.
Once the funeral was over, it was a relief to come home. Angelboy was wonderful with me, spending all weekend at my mother's house. We spent a lot of time venturing into the jungle of my garden, admiring the growing cucumbers, the sprouting pea-pods, the dozens of melon blossoms. We watched hippie movies and listened to a lot of Janis Joplin and The Doors. We spent a weekend crafting together, our newest obsession being woodburning. I am working on a box for his drawing pencils and paint brushes, decorated with howling wolves and tribal paw prints. He is making a box for my art supplies, a beautiful faeriegirl kneeling on a mushroom, vines and flowers blooming from the corners of the wood.
He is truly so wonderful. I love his creativity, the passion he pours into every project, turning a simple object into such beauty. I love how we can spend hours together, side by side, trading supplies and watching the shadows lengthen and afternoon becomes evening becomes nighttime, and we are lost in the world of our own creation.
We watched movies that I had watched with my father, and he didn't even flinch when I got into a bad headspace and just started crying. I burst into tears and he held me tight, cradling me against him and letting me sob. Death has been occupying a lot of my thoughts this week, filling me with a terror and panic that makes it impossible to breathe. He switched off the movie with the battle scenes, and he popped in Finding Nemo, knowing that silly cartoons and sea turtles and fun fish would help take away the gremlinthoughts.
My heart still feels sore and tender. This week has brought up a lot of emotions that I had buried after losing my father, and it has been hard to enjoy the sunshine and beautiful weather. I feel like I need to hermit up again this week, taking the time to feel all of these feelings, to cry when I need to, to take better care of myself. This weekend, I will emerge again for more adventures with Angelboy, more hours of crafting together and movie watching and an amazing trip to the art museum.
Things are going to get better. I believe it.
They buried my grandfather in his WWII uniform, along with a satchel of love letters that he had saved from my grandmother, who had written him constantly during the war. It was a beautiful ceremony, the first half Catholic with purple robes and the embracing stone of a medieval church, stained glass rainbows flickering through the sweltering heat. The rosaries and Communion brought peace to the hearts of my sister, my aunts and uncles, and later, we walked to the graveyard where the air force soldiers waited. They played the taps, folded the flag, and knelt down to the ground, presenting it to my eldest cousin, Dustin. His strong shoulders bowed as he accepted the flag, and he started to cry. That is when my own heart burst open, and these tears began to flow. My sister and I held hands and cried together. "It feels like Dad died all over again," she told me, weeping. And it's true.
My grandfather left me a quilt that used to belong to my father when he was my age, hand-sewn by his grandmother. After my daddy died, my step-mother refused to give us anything that belonged to him. I had to fight tooth and nail, and call a lawyer, in order to get an old guitar that he had wanted me to half. That was it. My sister wasn't even allowed to get that much. All she has are images, blurry pictures that keep his face alive in our souls. I cried when I got the quilt. I buried my face into the fabric, expecting it to smell like him: cigarettes and cologne and safety and warmth. It didn't, but I feel better having it nearby. I was also allowed to take a few other things that had belonged to my grandpa: some of his name tags that had been sewn to his uniforms, some movies that I had watched over and over again with my father, and an amazing rock collection that had belonged to my grandmother. She was the one who made me obsessed with rocks, and I spent countless hours as a child just examining her collection, studying the giant quartz crystals and the shells, watching the colors flash and gleam into the most amazing of rainbows.
Once the funeral was over, it was a relief to come home. Angelboy was wonderful with me, spending all weekend at my mother's house. We spent a lot of time venturing into the jungle of my garden, admiring the growing cucumbers, the sprouting pea-pods, the dozens of melon blossoms. We watched hippie movies and listened to a lot of Janis Joplin and The Doors. We spent a weekend crafting together, our newest obsession being woodburning. I am working on a box for his drawing pencils and paint brushes, decorated with howling wolves and tribal paw prints. He is making a box for my art supplies, a beautiful faeriegirl kneeling on a mushroom, vines and flowers blooming from the corners of the wood.
He is truly so wonderful. I love his creativity, the passion he pours into every project, turning a simple object into such beauty. I love how we can spend hours together, side by side, trading supplies and watching the shadows lengthen and afternoon becomes evening becomes nighttime, and we are lost in the world of our own creation.
We watched movies that I had watched with my father, and he didn't even flinch when I got into a bad headspace and just started crying. I burst into tears and he held me tight, cradling me against him and letting me sob. Death has been occupying a lot of my thoughts this week, filling me with a terror and panic that makes it impossible to breathe. He switched off the movie with the battle scenes, and he popped in Finding Nemo, knowing that silly cartoons and sea turtles and fun fish would help take away the gremlinthoughts.
My heart still feels sore and tender. This week has brought up a lot of emotions that I had buried after losing my father, and it has been hard to enjoy the sunshine and beautiful weather. I feel like I need to hermit up again this week, taking the time to feel all of these feelings, to cry when I need to, to take better care of myself. This weekend, I will emerge again for more adventures with Angelboy, more hours of crafting together and movie watching and an amazing trip to the art museum.
Things are going to get better. I believe it.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Ever since...
the miscarriage, I have been struggling with intense feelings of confliction and confusion, of hurt and gratitude, of pain and relief. Most of the time now, I can look back on it with acceptance, certain that my starbaby didn't come because the time wasn't right and he knew it, that I needed more years to grow and learn before I could be a good mama.
Then there are moments like last night, hours where I feel so tender and vulnerable. A friend who just went through a miscarriage of her own, who knows about mine, texts me pictures of her adorable little boy, one year old with golden hair, asleep in a high chair all covered in chocolate. And there is an intense knife-stab of pain through my chest, blinking away tears as this ache travels through my heart. I know that she didn't mean anything by it, that she wasn't trying to be insensitive or cruel, and thus, I felt guilty for feeling so badly. Ashamed that I couldn't be stronger, especially when I know in my heart that everything turned out for the best.
The gremlins clung to my mind after that, giving me a night of bad dreams and a stomach that cannot choke down food. I am aware of how disconnected I feel from my body, how foreign it is now. My moon cycle has been regular since I was twelve and a half years old, and I knew the ebb and flow of my emotions when the moon begin to grow and shrink.
Now, it comes irregularly. Every three weeks, then two weeks later, then three and a half weeks. I feel swollen and sick lately, which I know to be false. I still weigh my typical one hundred and four pounds. I don't feel fit and strong and free. I feel... constrained. Heavy. My emotions are all over the place.
My mind and body feel unbalanced, and I am not sure what I can do to align them once more. I am not sure how to feel in touch with myself again.
Perhaps I will actually try this meditation thing. I have never been good at it - meditation tends to give me incredible headaches, which is strange. Perhaps I am just not trying hard enough.
Then there are moments like last night, hours where I feel so tender and vulnerable. A friend who just went through a miscarriage of her own, who knows about mine, texts me pictures of her adorable little boy, one year old with golden hair, asleep in a high chair all covered in chocolate. And there is an intense knife-stab of pain through my chest, blinking away tears as this ache travels through my heart. I know that she didn't mean anything by it, that she wasn't trying to be insensitive or cruel, and thus, I felt guilty for feeling so badly. Ashamed that I couldn't be stronger, especially when I know in my heart that everything turned out for the best.
The gremlins clung to my mind after that, giving me a night of bad dreams and a stomach that cannot choke down food. I am aware of how disconnected I feel from my body, how foreign it is now. My moon cycle has been regular since I was twelve and a half years old, and I knew the ebb and flow of my emotions when the moon begin to grow and shrink.
Now, it comes irregularly. Every three weeks, then two weeks later, then three and a half weeks. I feel swollen and sick lately, which I know to be false. I still weigh my typical one hundred and four pounds. I don't feel fit and strong and free. I feel... constrained. Heavy. My emotions are all over the place.
My mind and body feel unbalanced, and I am not sure what I can do to align them once more. I am not sure how to feel in touch with myself again.
Perhaps I will actually try this meditation thing. I have never been good at it - meditation tends to give me incredible headaches, which is strange. Perhaps I am just not trying hard enough.
Monday, June 21, 2010
A trip to the circus...
Things have been topsy-turvey in this starchild's world.
The other day, I had a long conversation with Kajira on the phone, feeling her long-distance strength that allowed me to open up for the first time in months. She mentioned how I had shut down after everything, numb to the world and silent behind these walls. This past week has been about trying to open myself up again.
Conversations with Kajira, making plans to hang out with my packbrother and his lovely faeriegirl, it even gave me the courage to open up my heart and pour out these tears into a long letter to Angelboy. I have trouble opening up to him, and he doesn't mind my freakouts. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, spent hours making me smile with long walks and movie cuddles, those precious few moments of just us. He let me rant and listened to these fears and soothed them with kisses and that delicious smile.
Letting go of the numbness has been harder than I expected. I am not sure how to throw myself back into the game. I have become a hermit these past few months, seeing only Angelboy and my own amazing family. I wasn't sure how to interact with my friends. My lovely ragtag bunch of silly dreamthings, with their sunshine and their parties and drinking and greensmoke and battling with foam swords and club-dancing. I didn't know how to deal with them, couldn't relax enough to enjoy that summertime youth. Even now, I still feel ancient.
They are worried about fun and love and adventures and a thousand summer memories to be made, of staying up all night and watching the sun rise. And me... My heart is still aching for a little starthing, a shadow spiritbaby. They don't really understand these emotions, and honestly, I don't either. And so for months, I have stayed to myself. Closing in on myself. Shutting down. But something needed to change.
So this weekend, Angelboy and I decided to go have some fun. We drove up to Detroit to go see the Dubstep show, a mixture between a rave and a circus. Several friends of ours were performing as part of the fire guild, and it was good to see so many unexpected faces. There were masked-dancers who performed elegant feats, moving their bodies in the most surreal ways. My friend Mithris was pretty amazing as the spokesman, bringing his neverending energy to create a magical experience. Drum and bass flooded the building, crawling into your veins until you wanted to dancedancedance. Flec floated around doing his breath-taking contact juggling, Majik spun her poi in the most wonderful of ways. There were hoopers (my favorite!), with LED lights creating streaks of rainbows that kept glowing even when I closed my eyes. People were painting elaborate art works on the sides of the giant room, flourescent shades of technicolor beauty, and there was such a beautiful energy of creation and joy throughout the entire room.
Angelboy and I, of course, dressed up for the occasion. I dressed in my tribalgear and spikes, while he dressed all in his black and his collar, our makeup streaking extremely across our cheeks, decked out in our finest of glowing things. While most of the crowd was content with jeans and a t-shirt, we always take full advantage of being able to dress in costume.
It was good to dance again. Good to be around the fire, good to be around performers, good to be around such amazing vibes. Losing myself in the whomp of the speakers, the lights dancing while the djs spun, kissing angelboy and whirling and gasping and sweating and feeling... serene.
We stayed a few hours and then headed home again, a little more at peace with the world.
Today, the peace has faded a bit. Opening up isn't all easy, and I spent most of today being irritable and on-edge, anxious and panicky and crying over the silliest of things. One of those headspaces that gardening, hooping, and even the newest episode of True Blood and appearance by my favorite Godric couldn't cure.
Sipping on some forest fruit tea (in honor of midsummer's night eve!), and clutching a book from the amazing writer Francesca Lia Block, I think it is now time to retire. Curling up with magickal words with beautiful characters will hopefully calm these gremlin thoughts.
The other day, I had a long conversation with Kajira on the phone, feeling her long-distance strength that allowed me to open up for the first time in months. She mentioned how I had shut down after everything, numb to the world and silent behind these walls. This past week has been about trying to open myself up again.
Conversations with Kajira, making plans to hang out with my packbrother and his lovely faeriegirl, it even gave me the courage to open up my heart and pour out these tears into a long letter to Angelboy. I have trouble opening up to him, and he doesn't mind my freakouts. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, spent hours making me smile with long walks and movie cuddles, those precious few moments of just us. He let me rant and listened to these fears and soothed them with kisses and that delicious smile.
Letting go of the numbness has been harder than I expected. I am not sure how to throw myself back into the game. I have become a hermit these past few months, seeing only Angelboy and my own amazing family. I wasn't sure how to interact with my friends. My lovely ragtag bunch of silly dreamthings, with their sunshine and their parties and drinking and greensmoke and battling with foam swords and club-dancing. I didn't know how to deal with them, couldn't relax enough to enjoy that summertime youth. Even now, I still feel ancient.
They are worried about fun and love and adventures and a thousand summer memories to be made, of staying up all night and watching the sun rise. And me... My heart is still aching for a little starthing, a shadow spiritbaby. They don't really understand these emotions, and honestly, I don't either. And so for months, I have stayed to myself. Closing in on myself. Shutting down. But something needed to change.
So this weekend, Angelboy and I decided to go have some fun. We drove up to Detroit to go see the Dubstep show, a mixture between a rave and a circus. Several friends of ours were performing as part of the fire guild, and it was good to see so many unexpected faces. There were masked-dancers who performed elegant feats, moving their bodies in the most surreal ways. My friend Mithris was pretty amazing as the spokesman, bringing his neverending energy to create a magical experience. Drum and bass flooded the building, crawling into your veins until you wanted to dancedancedance. Flec floated around doing his breath-taking contact juggling, Majik spun her poi in the most wonderful of ways. There were hoopers (my favorite!), with LED lights creating streaks of rainbows that kept glowing even when I closed my eyes. People were painting elaborate art works on the sides of the giant room, flourescent shades of technicolor beauty, and there was such a beautiful energy of creation and joy throughout the entire room.
Angelboy and I, of course, dressed up for the occasion. I dressed in my tribalgear and spikes, while he dressed all in his black and his collar, our makeup streaking extremely across our cheeks, decked out in our finest of glowing things. While most of the crowd was content with jeans and a t-shirt, we always take full advantage of being able to dress in costume.
It was good to dance again. Good to be around the fire, good to be around performers, good to be around such amazing vibes. Losing myself in the whomp of the speakers, the lights dancing while the djs spun, kissing angelboy and whirling and gasping and sweating and feeling... serene.
We stayed a few hours and then headed home again, a little more at peace with the world.
Today, the peace has faded a bit. Opening up isn't all easy, and I spent most of today being irritable and on-edge, anxious and panicky and crying over the silliest of things. One of those headspaces that gardening, hooping, and even the newest episode of True Blood and appearance by my favorite Godric couldn't cure.
Sipping on some forest fruit tea (in honor of midsummer's night eve!), and clutching a book from the amazing writer Francesca Lia Block, I think it is now time to retire. Curling up with magickal words with beautiful characters will hopefully calm these gremlin thoughts.
Monday, June 14, 2010
"Darling Faerygirl..."
Today, I got a surprise in the mail, a postcard from one of my best friends Kajira who lives out in Denver. We haven't been as connected lately, which I blame on myself. I have been wrapped up in my own world, my own haze, that I have badly neglected the friendships that I am so grateful for.
I opened my mailbox today to find an amazingly beautiful faerietale postcard, a painting of Snow White surrounded by the seven dwarves, her long black hair falling in a river over purple pillows, her prince kneeling beside her to peer at her face through the glass. The forest and the animals shimmer a bit, and it is the most amazing image I have seen in a long time.
And on the back, was this message:
"Darling Faerygirl,
I miss you so. Are you still sleeping, child? Wake up and realize that you hold all the gems, all the cards and luck tokens you need to set your path forward. We don't speak much but I know you are not fully blossomed yet. You stay reserved. Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Consider this your magik kiss from your prince. You hold your own power. Let your light shine. Arise. Arise. Be your own guide. I love you. - Kajira."
It brought tears to my eyes, made my heart swell with love and gratitude and joy. This girl is amazing. She has helped me through so many things these past years. Taught me how to grow, how to explore myself, how to dream and live with no shame. And even with these past few months of silence and whispers, she refuses to give up on me.
She reminds me that the magick is still in my life.
I opened my mailbox today to find an amazingly beautiful faerietale postcard, a painting of Snow White surrounded by the seven dwarves, her long black hair falling in a river over purple pillows, her prince kneeling beside her to peer at her face through the glass. The forest and the animals shimmer a bit, and it is the most amazing image I have seen in a long time.
And on the back, was this message:
"Darling Faerygirl,
I miss you so. Are you still sleeping, child? Wake up and realize that you hold all the gems, all the cards and luck tokens you need to set your path forward. We don't speak much but I know you are not fully blossomed yet. You stay reserved. Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Consider this your magik kiss from your prince. You hold your own power. Let your light shine. Arise. Arise. Be your own guide. I love you. - Kajira."
It brought tears to my eyes, made my heart swell with love and gratitude and joy. This girl is amazing. She has helped me through so many things these past years. Taught me how to grow, how to explore myself, how to dream and live with no shame. And even with these past few months of silence and whispers, she refuses to give up on me.
She reminds me that the magick is still in my life.
Start of Something New
This is the start of something new.
This is me finally taking the time to breathe. To stop living in the future, these daydreams that make me panic when they don't happen fast enough, the fear of so much wasted time. This is me finally learning to s l o w down.
This is me disconnecting from the internet, no longer using it as a way to numb all of these emotions. This is me stepping out into the sunshine, barefeet spread into the grass, trying to dig down like roots. Nose pressed against lilies, tropical reds and brilliant pinks and the warmest, happiest of yellows. Finding tiny little toadstools in rings in my backyard, being careful not to wander within, just glowing at the sight of all of those little mushrooms sprouting almost unseen in the grass. Fingers curled into the dirt of my new garden, crooning songs to my herbs and my veggies, singing Marley to my carrots and Dylan to my peas and Ms. Mitchell to my lavendar.
This is me picking up my hula hoop for the first time in months, giving it a spin around my waist and remembering all at once: thisiswhatpurejoytasteslike. Hooping for hours to techno songs and even while watching television programs, finally realizing how to knee hoop correctly, and planning new tricks in my head. My skin has the most delicious bruises upon it from starchild hoop, badges of learning, my trophies as a hoop warrior. Dancing in a ring, feeling free for the first time in a long time.
Now it finally feels like summer.
I am letting go of these shadows. Letting go of the hurt and the pain and these tears. Letting the numbness fade. Finding reasons to be grateful again. New adventures on the horizon, and they will come when it is time. For now, I am trying to stay in each given moment, and these days have found me with a strange sense of serenity. I am looking neither ahead nor back.
I just am.
And that feels beautiful right now.
This is me finally taking the time to breathe. To stop living in the future, these daydreams that make me panic when they don't happen fast enough, the fear of so much wasted time. This is me finally learning to s l o w down.
This is me disconnecting from the internet, no longer using it as a way to numb all of these emotions. This is me stepping out into the sunshine, barefeet spread into the grass, trying to dig down like roots. Nose pressed against lilies, tropical reds and brilliant pinks and the warmest, happiest of yellows. Finding tiny little toadstools in rings in my backyard, being careful not to wander within, just glowing at the sight of all of those little mushrooms sprouting almost unseen in the grass. Fingers curled into the dirt of my new garden, crooning songs to my herbs and my veggies, singing Marley to my carrots and Dylan to my peas and Ms. Mitchell to my lavendar.
This is me picking up my hula hoop for the first time in months, giving it a spin around my waist and remembering all at once: thisiswhatpurejoytasteslike. Hooping for hours to techno songs and even while watching television programs, finally realizing how to knee hoop correctly, and planning new tricks in my head. My skin has the most delicious bruises upon it from starchild hoop, badges of learning, my trophies as a hoop warrior. Dancing in a ring, feeling free for the first time in a long time.
Now it finally feels like summer.
I am letting go of these shadows. Letting go of the hurt and the pain and these tears. Letting the numbness fade. Finding reasons to be grateful again. New adventures on the horizon, and they will come when it is time. For now, I am trying to stay in each given moment, and these days have found me with a strange sense of serenity. I am looking neither ahead nor back.
I just am.
And that feels beautiful right now.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Loss
I find myself lost. It's been a week and a half since the miscarriage, and this numbness won't go away. On the outside, I am still smiling. Staying strong for my family, laughing with my mother and sister and her kidlets, hanging out with my angelboy, trying to stay active and positive.
I feel like I am dying. Cracked inside, empty. Having no job gives me plenty of time to think, and that is the last thing I want to do. So I spend my days reading, nose pressed against book pages in an attempt to fade into another world, become someone, anyone else. At night, when everyone is asleep, the tears come. Ripping out of my chest, tearing my throat with a harshness that scares me.
It is impossible to talk about. Impossible to explain. I had this life inside of me, part Starchild and part Angelboy. I wanted that future. I would put my hand to my belly and whisper songs to my starbaby, telling it stories and how I would always protect it. Angelboy would laugh and press his hand to my stomach, kissing me and glowing. He was young but he stepped up to the plate. We were going to have a child and we were going to be the best parents ever.
Then the bleeding started. Eight weeks pregnant, all I could do is watch in horror. And so my baby died. And I lied. Because my starbaby died in the one place he should have been safe.
And now I am left here. Empty and aching. I don't know how to move forward. So I pretend to be okay. But I am not. I don't think I will be for a long time. I just don't know how to heal. Everyone is pretending that nothing happened. Angelboy is no different. He held me while I wept, and he shed a few tears himself. But after that.... Nothing. It is like it never happened. It's like we never talked about baby names or made plans and watched other little kidlings and dreamed about our own.
It's like... This is my nightmare. And I can't forget. I don't even want to get out of bed. Because there is no point. I bought craft supplies to keep me busy, lots of plushie animals to turn into rainbow colorful backpacks.... But I can't get started. I have no motivation. I try to read, and I can only get through a few chapters before I have to put it down and start another one. I try to look for jobs, and I just don't care. My phone rings with calls and text messages, and I don't even have the energy to answer.
My Starbaby WAS there. Was a part of me and I loved him so much. And now there is nothing. I pretend and everyone pretends. I feel like I am going crazy. People say, "Take it one day at a time." And I want to snarl at them, push them away. I am surviving one hour at a time. And I don't think they realize just how difficult that is.
I can't breathe.
I don't know how to move forward.
This is not like me. But I can't fix it.
I feel so helpless.
I feel like I am dying. Cracked inside, empty. Having no job gives me plenty of time to think, and that is the last thing I want to do. So I spend my days reading, nose pressed against book pages in an attempt to fade into another world, become someone, anyone else. At night, when everyone is asleep, the tears come. Ripping out of my chest, tearing my throat with a harshness that scares me.
It is impossible to talk about. Impossible to explain. I had this life inside of me, part Starchild and part Angelboy. I wanted that future. I would put my hand to my belly and whisper songs to my starbaby, telling it stories and how I would always protect it. Angelboy would laugh and press his hand to my stomach, kissing me and glowing. He was young but he stepped up to the plate. We were going to have a child and we were going to be the best parents ever.
Then the bleeding started. Eight weeks pregnant, all I could do is watch in horror. And so my baby died. And I lied. Because my starbaby died in the one place he should have been safe.
And now I am left here. Empty and aching. I don't know how to move forward. So I pretend to be okay. But I am not. I don't think I will be for a long time. I just don't know how to heal. Everyone is pretending that nothing happened. Angelboy is no different. He held me while I wept, and he shed a few tears himself. But after that.... Nothing. It is like it never happened. It's like we never talked about baby names or made plans and watched other little kidlings and dreamed about our own.
It's like... This is my nightmare. And I can't forget. I don't even want to get out of bed. Because there is no point. I bought craft supplies to keep me busy, lots of plushie animals to turn into rainbow colorful backpacks.... But I can't get started. I have no motivation. I try to read, and I can only get through a few chapters before I have to put it down and start another one. I try to look for jobs, and I just don't care. My phone rings with calls and text messages, and I don't even have the energy to answer.
My Starbaby WAS there. Was a part of me and I loved him so much. And now there is nothing. I pretend and everyone pretends. I feel like I am going crazy. People say, "Take it one day at a time." And I want to snarl at them, push them away. I am surviving one hour at a time. And I don't think they realize just how difficult that is.
I can't breathe.
I don't know how to move forward.
This is not like me. But I can't fix it.
I feel so helpless.
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