Nymph's Turmoil

Life is tough.

An endless struggle 

Between expecting and accepting. 

Who am I becoming in this floating mass of the human race? 

I'm just trying to survive, a nymph among men, a fey who was lost in her own dreams. I want to be accepted but I'm not like all the others in this world. My difference is my blessing.  My difference is my curse. 

I want my life to be beautiful. But I don't fit traditional standards of a beautiful person. I am unique,  and that makes me both loved and hated, judged and berated and I'm screaming inside half the time because why is my life so awful that it pushes people away?

I think I am unique.  I think I am beautiful. I love the person I have moulded myself into. But by traditional standards,  I am the monster they fear and run from. I am the beast they cannot control. 

I am nymph. Loved and hated for the very core of my nature. I am nymph. Just accept me as I am.

Love, Grief, and Addiction

 Love, Grief, And Addiction

   I saw him. I saw him in our discord, and he spoke about things in a game we met and fell in love on. And he didn't speak to me. He didn't acknowledge that I was still active there. He pretended I didn't exist. There was my closure. That was the thing I needed to move on....

   A couple of friends who saw my grief and pain were telling me to stop and refocus on myself. At first, I thought they were being callous, and I figured I'm used to it. No one likes when I FEEL things. So I took down my posts and said, "Fine, I wont talk about it anymore." I am used to internalizing things because nobody cares. This is why I have blogs.

   This closure I mentioned above helped me finally break free from my grief and realize they were right. I was obsessing. Love and affection were my drug to take away the stress. I was so focused on love and affection that I stopped caring about myself. The worst part is I was being demanding that others would care about the one person I no longer cared for: me. This was very wrong, and I regret some recent behaviors. And one lost friend because I pushed for love too soon, even though I said I wouldn't. In all honesty I shouldn't. I was not in a healthy place, and my fears destroyed us.

   I stopped practicing my self-care, my in-the-moment grounding, my personal actions which I would do to provide myself with a happy living environment at home. All I wanted was constant love and affection. I was mentally ill and was not acknowledging it. My stress had become a sickness and love was my cure. This is not healthy behavior. I feel relief today, after being able to let go of my grief. Life is still hard but the last few relationships, and the words of my friends, have woken me up from my love-drug coated dreams.

   As it stands, I am in a casual courting with 2 friends, but I do not intend on those being deep partnerships, as I really need to not be entertaining that concept for awhile. I need to breathe and refocus on self. Flirting and playing, and even cuddles are ok. Letting such things take over my life is not. Anyone who knows me knows I love easily, and sometimes hard. It's the most amazing feeling. But I've begun to find the means to push aside the desire to immerse myself in it and just enjoy what I have right now. Heartbreak did that for me. I'm thankful for all the pain.

   In conclusion, I want to say to all my friends: check in on yourself sometimes. Make sure you are doing what's healthy and positive for you. Some things may seem to bring you happiness, but at what cost? Make sure you don't fall deep down the rabbit hole without a lifeline to pull you out.

   I want to give recognition to Enafae and Dee for helping me with clarity. Also to Robert and Chris for giving me understanding. Additionally to Robert and his tribe for keeping me from closing myself off in grief. And finally to Bear for giving me love, but not too much, and for checking to make sure I'm ok.

Blessed Be, friends.

~Nymph~

Silence...

My silence is deafening. I can't hear past the noise of my silent survival. My life is brief moments of color and conversation to break the emptiness in between. 

Work. Sleep.  Work.  Sleep. 

I don't even know what to do when I get free time. And no car. No visits. Emptiness.  Silence. Random noises i don't choose to listen to. 

I wear no mask when I'm at home,  and yet, sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in my own solitude. 

My Legacy Is Love

   I have thought a lot about Corvid-19. I have considered how I would react if I became sick, and eventually died. I want to write a little bit about my thoughts relating to this scenario.

   First off, I want to say that I am not afraid of death. I'm not scared of the mysterious unknown of afterlife that will follow, be it heaven and hell, reincarnation, empty existence, or whatever the true afterlife holds. I am, however, afraid of suffering. I'm afraid of being alone as I pass away from the mortal realm. I'm afraid of leaving this plane and being forgotten, the legacy I built with my entire life blowing away in the wind as the ashes that will remain after my passing.

   My legacy that I choose to leave behind is love. Also, strength. But primarily, if I were to die tomorrow, I beg all of you to remember me and to reach out and love everyone you can. Love is one of the most powerful things you can bring to each other. It is so essential to life and survival.

   I'm not afraid of passing away. I'm afraid of not being here to bring love to so many lonely people. There are so many out there who are judged, and hated, and ignored simply because they don't fit the normal standards for attraction. The most amazing thing you can do is let go of everything you think you love about people, and just reach out to everyone.

   I have learned that I can love all kinds of people who I never thought I would be as close to as I have been. I have loved a homeless man. I have loved a badass self-acclaimed bitch. I have loved the young and the old, and many in between. I have loved neurotypical and highly unusual folk. I loved someone with a lycan spirit, someone who bonded with a demon, and a few Christians in my time. I've loved people from so many paths and walks of life.

   The lesson I want you to take from this, is love doesn't care if you are a dark or light soul. Love doesn't care what entities you bond with or worship. If you give it enough room, love can be anyone.

If I died tomorrow, my last wish is that all of you love as many people as you can. And don't ever stop. Love more people every day. Tell people about the things you love about them. Mention their nice hair, their awesome outfit, their captivating eyes. But... try not to tell someone they have a cute butt... unless you're very close. ^.^

The world needs more love. And I need all of you to give it.
Stay safe. Be careful. Give all the love.
Blessed Be.

Acceptance and Nonjudgment

   Something I still see people have an issue with is accepting others without a million judgments. People want to control how people dress, talk, act, and what they teach to others. This is unfair to the people being judged, as it takes away from their individuality and replaces it with self-doubt. And yet, these same people want the freedom of choosing their own actions, words, and education without being judged or controlled.

Hippocracy at it's finest. However, many people who do this, don't even realize the cause and effect that they create. They believe they're trying to defend others, or right the world, or tear away what they believe are untruths.

And sometimes they kick the hornet's nest.

I want to personally add a couple of thoughts on my introduction to disbelieve vs. acceptance. I have a hard time believing in possession. I don't really believe in the devil. I feel like more often than not, people associate demons with things they don't have anything to do with. I don't really feel like angels are a thing... maybe.

Now take that last paragraph and link it to the next one and think really hard on it.

I accept all people who work with demons, angels, possession, and more. I even accept people who believe they are "powerful wizards from a long line of wizards who can bring down mountains."
Yes, that's been a thing a few times. I've smiled and nodded and told these people I have no idea how to guide them. I did not turn them away. i accepted them and let them know I was not on their level. and then I let them be.

It is not my job to choose their path. It is not my job to tell them what to believe. 

So, therefore, I do not have to criticize people who believe in things I don't understand or have faith in. One of my friends deals with possessions. A few friends of mine, AT LEAST, deal with demons. And at least one is a necro. And I still love them. Because they are amazing, friendly, and wonderful people. I set aside their beliefs and I love them for who they are.

The world needs more of this.

What I am really trying to say, what I want people to openly take from this is, let people be who they are. They might still be amazing, even if you don't understand their path.

I love so many of you, and my heart doesn't ever stop growing to fill all the new people I keep meeting. So please find it within yourselves to allow others to grow without the little dark stickers of doubt and judgment you stick on them. We need to become the best versions of ourselves, which is made all the more difficult with pressure and negativity from out peers.

For those who read this post to the end, thank you and I hope you gained much insight from these words. I'm open to any and all conversations on the subject, as long as you stay away from toxic comments and negative criticism. That said, I'm open to positive criticism and opposing opinions for my own self-reflection.

Sincerely,
Nymph.

Adulthood At Last

   I finally reached adulthood. I work at a job I hate, just to scratch a few dollars together. There is no pride in a job like this. It's just too many things and too little time. Work, work, work. Clean up, wrap up, body aches, go home. We close up long after our official closing time, because I'm just not that fast. And I know they're disappointed. Every... single... day.

   My own life is equally unpleasant. Most of the time, my friends are so busy living their lives, they forget I'm still here, missing them. Missing positive social time. I'd love to go for coffee and drinks, but over the last several years, I can't even get a handful of friends to visit for my birthday. So, sometimes I ask. Usually I don't. They're just too busy to make the trip.

   Adulthood is about being tired, depressed, and over-all just hating every single day of your life. I worked really, really hard to stay upbeat and positive, and not let life get me down. I refused to grow up. I was youthful, playful, and silly. I don't even have time anymore to play online, and be silly there. All I do is work now. And I still don't have a car. All this work, and it's nowhere near enough to be able to truly live. I literally can't even obtain 2 jobs.

This is adulthood.

Soul Vs. Goal

Soul Vs. Goal

In this world, money is everything, and you need a car to make it really happen. But at what cost? What will you give up to realize your dreams, or even to make a little extra cash and open new opportunities for you?

I recently had started a job that would mean $300/week and help shopping for my first car. I'm 36 years old and my job experience is that of a teenager, so naturally, this seemed like a deal that was too good to be true.

And it was.

A week in, I don't even want to work anymore. Every day, I go to this lady's house in a car that smells of rot and sweat and too much heat. I arrive at this very large house with a long drive and a turnaround near the steps. The very much worn and broken steps that are in severe need of repair. The porch is littered with old, rusted art and empty pots, some pots filled with the dead and the dying.

And thus my experience begins:
I approach the front door and enter the house. The door struggles to properly close. The house is too warm. There is a closet before me without a door. There are mops and brooms, and other things inside but I can't get to them because of a large, headless statue and a divider.

Most of the time I fold clothes. She is happy. I occasionally do other chores as well. But I'm always too warm, I never know where anything goes, and I don't have any idea where any tools are in which I might use to make the work more efficient. But I do the best that I can.

The energy in the house is oppressive and stifling. I feel muted. I feel small. It's a very uncomfortable energy which makes my own alignment sick and I feel ill after each day of work. Not a physical ill, but more an energy ill, like as if someone has poisoned my energy well.

I finish my job each day, and wait for the car to come, so I can climb back into the oppressive heat and... that smell. Oh gods that smell. I'm surprised it never made me retch. I go to my main job to work 4 hours, and for most of that shift, I am aware that that smell is still on my clothes, my skin....

I am tired all afternoon, after that morning job. It drains so much energy. It makes my body and my mind tired. Even the boss at my main job sees how it affects me. I cannot help it. Poisoned energy really affects every other part of the body.

I go home, exhausted after a way too long day. I play mindless games until I can sleep. I still sometimes catch a whiff of that smell. I sleep. I wake up the next day and I do it again. I wait outside my building for the car, the oppressive heat. The smell.

The last day I worked for her, I was late for my other job. I got talked to twice about it. I hated it. I'd reminded her several times that morning that I had to work later. I was not happy, my main-job boss was not happy, and after I spoke with her about it, she was not happy.

After, she took much of my attention away from other customers at my main job (mind you, I was off the clock, in terms of working for her) to ask multiple questions and request my help with things which I wasn't needed. But my choice was to be rude, or to help. Finally, she bought a couple of flowers and left. I sighed my relief.

I worked my shift, eating some pizza my manager had left on the counter, and drinking a water I'd grabbed out of the storage room. The first of both I'd had since breakfast. (I ate at 9am, and this was at 4pm.) I went home, after getting a LOT of work done on the lot, and rested in the kitchen while I heated some more food. I hadn't eaten much at work.

Before I was finished fixing my physical state, I got a text from the lady, saying that I didn't do the job I'd worked so hard on that day. There were pictures. The work looked properly done, except the one piece I couldn't complete because of lack of proper tools.  That was the last straw. After all she'd put me through that day I couldn't take this with grace. I was done selling pieces of my soul for a promise of wealth and transportation.

I was never that kind of girl anyway.
I won't sacrifice my self for money and a car.

P.S. When I think back on this experience, I sometimes think I still smell that smell.

Free Healthcare and the Homeless

   Free Healthcare and the Homeless
I want to talk to you about what free healthcare would mean for the homeless. And I want to use my experience to explain it, because having a bacterial infection really taught me the value of having access to free healthcare. Some of you would frown on me using my sickness to push my agenda, but then you have to consider that my agenda is to see all people happy and healthy. I want all decent people to do well. I don't like seeing people suffer. This is my agenda.

So here's my story:
   It's been a long few days, and the heat has been unbearable. It gets a little colder at night, though not by much, and I'd been leaving the door open to try to stay somewhat cool while I slept. I'd still often wake up way too hot the next day and having to drink a lot of liquid to cool myself down.

   One night, I was feeling grateful, because the air turned very cold, and I was glad for the sudden chill to cool me off. I slept soundly and woke up refreshed and cool. Unfortunately I had a sore throat. I cursed my luck and tried to keep healthy, trying to thwart off my "cold" symptoms. Little did I know, this was more than a cold.

   I spent sometime around 2 weeks, sleeping fitfully during the day and night at odd hours, my nose running nonstop, my throat growing more painful and swollen each day. At first I could only eat soft foods, but I could still drink all the water I needed.And then I couldn't eat. And the only thing I could drink was apple juice. I had a cough and my asthma blew up more times than I could say. I felt that I would go mad with sickness and pain.

  When the time came where I hadn't eaten anything for 2 days except half of a pudding cup, and I could no longer drink because my throat had gotten so sore and swollen, I decided it was time for a check-up. I called a friend and had him take me to the doctor. They tested me for strep and mono, which both came back negative. What they did discover was a bacterial infection... which I had thought was a REALLY bad cold. I got my prescriptions, waited impatiently as they got filled, and got home.

   I swallowed the pills down immediately, though they made me gag and the pain made tears come to my eyes. They didn't go down easy. It took half a dozen swallows to get those suckers down. Then I forced what I could of more pudding. It was the worst feeling, trying to force delicious food through pain. I managed to do what I needed and then went to the couch and promptly passed out.

   Today is only a day later. My throat is no longer swollen and my nose is trying, slowly to heal up. Ad I thought this was just a bad cold. I'm so grateful that the medicine worked so fast. It reminded me of parents who tell their kids, "Don't leave the window open all night. You'll catch your death of cold." For me, it nearly did.

"That's great," You say, "But what does any of this have to do with homeless people and free healthcare?" Well, after going through what I went through, this is how I began to think about it. I had the choice to shut my window. Homeless people don't get that choice.

   Homeless people have to deal with all day heat and all night cold. And the effects that has on the body are numerous, and sometimes deadly. I used to get confused if I saw a young homeless person found dead on the streets. But imagine this:

   Imagine a 17 year old boy, let's say he ran away from an abusive home, and decided to make his own way. He ends up on the streets, never having been homeless before. He begs for food all day and sleeps in alleys and hidden places at night. This isn't the life he'd hoped for but he figured if he tried hard enough, he could still get somewhere on his own.

   The year is approaching fall, and the boy's clothes have gotten old and dirty. He's still begging for food and sleeping outside. He's forgotten his purpose in his need to live. One night, after a few excruciatingly hot days where he was badly sunburned from begging in the daytime, he curls up in his box, which holds a few meager possessions he got over his time on the streets, and he tries  to sleep, past the pain and the heat in his body. He cries because of his fate, exchanging one abusive life for another. And yet, he knows he cannot go home, or he would be beaten all over again.

   The air grows cool, and the boy passes out from exhaustion. But it gets colder and colder outside. The boy begins to shiver. He doesn't have enough blankets to keep warm in that chill. He adds his spare sweater onto his clothes, but still he's just so cold. He can't go inside because nothing will be open at this hour. So he tries to wait out the night, the cold seeping to his bones.

   A few days later, the boy is begging for money, for medicine. He can't get healthcare because he doesn't have an address. But he's hoping cough medicine will make him better. He doesn't get much money that day. People have heard of addicts using cough medicine for a high. They don't believe him. He uses what he has that night to buy a meal.

   Next day, he tries again. He's looking pretty sick, and coughing. He makes almost nothing. People don't go near him, they don't want his illness. The avoid him like he has the plague. There's not enough for food. He goes to bed that night hungry.

   The following day, the boy can't get up. He's so sick, he's got no energy, and the lack of food and drink made his sickness worse. He could go to the emergency room but they insisted he had to pay his dues before he could be seen again. He didn't make that much money. He stays in his box, trying to stay warm as the fevers take him. In a few days, a couple homeless guys who knew him start looking for him. He died from his sickness because he couldn't get treated.

The Meat of the Story:
   The point behind the scenario I wrote, as dark, and sad as it may be, is that it's real. And it happens to homeless people everyday. Not all are young, or running away from something. But homeless die all the time from easily treatable causes like flu or diabetes or other things most of us don't consider to be difficult to treat. We take our health for granted. We don't consider that some can't.

   If any homeless person had gotten the same bug that I had these past 2 weeks, it would likely have killed the person, because without proper medicine, it only gets worse until it's too late. This is why having free healthcare available to all is so important. Without access to health, homeless lives are just ticking down to the first time they get sick. And in the life they have to live, that's pretty easy to do.

  If you've read down to this part, I want to let you know I appreciate your interest, and your concern is warming to me. I think about the homeless population quite frequently. I used to be among them. That life is harder than most people can stand, and homeless numbers are rising everyday, with the struggle for jobs that can cover means, and the government's lack of interest to fix any of the core issues involving struggling singles and families. 

Why Do You Keep Running Away?

   People often go about the word numbing themselves to anything they don't want to deal with. They find some negative people, and decide to ignore them. They see angry people and ignore them. People even have the capacity to ignore abuse. It's a unique kind of blind-and-deafness that people have. I personally never have, and never will, understand this behavior.

   One thing people do not realize is that certain people, emotional people, introverts, and empaths, for instance, do NOT have the capacity to ignore the world around them. They can walk away from it or fight it, but they can't not see it. They can't not hear it. It is as loud as a RAVE to them. So they cope how they can.

   The first way that a lot of introverts, empaths and emotional beings deal with stress, negativity, and other "loud" situations, is they RUN. Other times, they can have PANIC ATTACKS. Sometimes, they get angry and aggressive, and they ATTACK. There are many ways that emotional people, empaths, and introverts react to stress, drama, and negativity.

Some of the things that will make them run are listed here...
         ~~Bullies and Trolls. (People who mock and insult them for their own twisted joy.)
         ~~Drama Queens. (The actual drama queens that feed off drama.)
         ~~Abuse (Physical, mental, or emotional abuse of the person by someone else.)
 ~~Constant Negativity (When people are always taking issue with the person't words or behaviors.)

   There are other causes which will drive these types of people away, as well. It really depends on the person, and how they deal with things, emotionally and mentally. The most common triggers are above, but others may also come into play, such as TRAUMA or PEER PRESSURE.

   People who don't like the emotional sensitivity of others will often use hurtful words like "Triggered" or "Snowflake" to put the person down and drive them into such frustration that they just leave. And often it works. It's a very toxic way of making the problem stop, but when there is no face-to-face contact, the abuser (And yes that is emotional abuse) feels no consequence or guilt for their actions. They don't have to see someone's hurt, or sometimes even, the victim's tears.

   It is not uncommon to hear a story about someone committing suicide because of internet or real life bullies, simply because the bully held no regard for the other person't life and emotions. It is not uncommon for hurtful phrases and abuse of that nature to drive someone to the point of irreversible despair. WORDS HURT. Even if you don't mean them to. Even if you don't care. Even if it's "not your problem."

   I could write so much more on this topic, but to summarize the concept of what I am writing about, people need to be more aware of the fact that not everyone can shut out the world. Some people just deal with abuse day in and day out, and are told to ignore it, and it will go away. I will tell you now, as someone who is always facing emotional abuse, that it NEVER went away. And it never will.

Acceptance...

Acceptance in a Non-Accepting World:

Accepting One's Self

In this world, we face judgments everyday by everyone. We shrug them off over and over. Sometimes we cry because it hurts. Sometimes we prove them wrong. Nonetheless, we must wade through a world of endless non-acceptance. Even those who make many friends, allies, and lovers will be judged by their peers. It's how we are taught, by our parents, by our friends, by people who we barely meet, in our daily lives.

We cannot change others, and their judgments, but we're taught how to cope with them and not let them affect us, and to try to rise above them. What we are not taught is how to not BECOME them. We are not taught how to not judge others. A certain level of judgment is needed, for survival. But the extent in which we judge is well beyond what's necessary.

To be healthy, strong individuals, we must first accept ourselves. Don't judge yourself; you've done that plenty enough. Each person, in order to "Know thyself" as the quote entails, must make a journey of self-discovery. Explore what makes you tick. Take note. Explore what quickens your heart. Take note of that too. Explore your emotions, even if they are few. Everyone has some emotions, even if they are little, quiet things, like the whisper of a cotton sheet across a bed.

Once you have learned about your "Surface You," as we'll call it for now, take the next step on your journey, toward your "Deeper You." This one is a little harder to do. It takes time, and energy, and most of all, practice.

The Surface You is spontaneous emotion, especially anger and love. It is also what makes you excited, what draws your attention, and what you think about in your few moments of idleness. The Deeper You comes from the heart, and the soul, like when someone closes their eyes, letting music flow through them, embracing it, becoming consumed by it.

It is also knowing your labels. Not negative, socially accepted labels like, "I'm so fat," or "I am awkward around people." Those are surface labels, and should be cast off for their own derogatory unfulfillment.  Those are judgments. We don't want those on the journey.

In the Deeper You, we learn our talents, our gifts, what makes us different, and special. When you go to a place full of unique people, like Con, you can see what others have embraced about themselves. There are people who label themselves a witch, a shaman, a mermaid, and many other titles people give to themselves. The journey you must take is to FIND YOUR LABEL. Who are you? What are you? Why are you as special as all of the others? I know you're special, but now it's time that you do, as well.

It took me years of studying different people, religions, spiritual callings, and even normal concepts before I got as far as calling myself a Lightworker, a Witch, and a Pagan. In my Surface Self,, I am just an awkward, strange girl, who doesn't fit in. But in my Deeper Self, I am special, unique, a healer, I am magical. I am special. I am special....... I am special.

I repeat that because in order to understand how you are supposed to find yourself, you need to SEE that word. It needs to break past the Surface You and into the Deeper You, and it needs to stick there, unforgotten. It needs to become art of you. Here's where you tell yourself, "I am special. I am unique. I am special." I know you're special, but now it's time for you to know.

There's nothing more I can tell my blog on this issue. Your journey is your own. Don't waste the time you were given here. Find yourself. Know yourself. WHO ARE YOU REALLY? I leave the answers up to you to learn. Good luck.

Christian, or Not

Christianity for a Non-Christian Heart

Christianity was all I new for the first half of my life. I prayed almost daily, I read a good portion of the bible, and memorized some of it. I took communion. I sang in the choir. I spoke to pastors and other church-goers. I tried to date within the Christian community. I volunteered for the kitchen, VBS (Vacation Bible School) and sometimes for the nursery. I had a crush on the pastor until I was a teen.

Communion introduced me to grape juice. I loved Communion, but not like I should have. The crackers and grape juice were a nice snack. I started drinking grape juice because Communion made me love the taste. But that is not why you're supposed to have Communion. You're supposed to commune with God. God never really spoke to me then.

The family would all get together...my sister, my mom, my grandma, and me. Sometimes my aunt would come too. My grandmother would pass out mints, and we'd suck on them while we listened to the sermon. My grandma always had a little too much perfume on. I tried not to fall asleep in church. If I started to, the whole family would glare at me and I'd get a lecture after everyone filed out. It was never my fault but for me, it was a guy, rambling on about God, whom I revered, but only because we all did... and because I was told we had to.

I never really had a good boyfriend or friends in the community. I was always "flawed" and encouraged to improve. I once had a guy I liked come up to me and push me for info about my sister, who he said was hot. He didn't seem to feel the need for discretion around me. I'd have been happier gutting out my eyes then satisfying his curiosity. I once had a boyfriend in the church. It didn't last long. He kept trying to convince me to have sex inside the church. His obsession with sex drove me off (which is amusing, as I am a lot more sexual in the current stage of my life than I was then).

I was never good enough. All the Bible Studies, all the prayer, all the belief. People judged me; there were rumors about my purity. People sympathized with my family, but in not-obvious ways. I was often shunned.

The first tremor in my faith came in school. I was part of the Christian group  in my school. We'd hold morning prayer in a class, and sometimes prayer circles outside. We'd take time sometimes to sing the praises of Jesus. One day I woke up, and the feeling of enlightenment, and of reverence was gone. I spent the entire day, feeling lost, confused and empty. I went to our praise group, and after a couple moments, I had to leave. I didn't feel I belonged anymore. To this day, I have no idea what happened.

The second rift came when I went to a church and was asked to be baptized. I was told that I'd be honoring Jesus by being baptized. I wanted to go through with it. This would honor my family, too, and prove to everyone who didn't believe in me that I truly wanted to be a good Christian. Unfortunately, it would mean I had to be fully submerged. To this day, I cannot completely cover my head with water. For some unknown reason, I go into a literal panic.

Despite the fact that other churches baptize with oil over the head, this church insisted that in order to be baptized, I would have to be submerged. My fear outweighed my faith. I couldn't do it. I was shunned harder than ever. I was judged and criticized daily. People would constantly push me to get baptized. Finally, I was threatened with eternal damnation. I quit the church. I just couldn't take the judgments anymore. I knew I'd never be good enough for God, or at least that's how it felt by that point. So I walked away. I became non-religious. I let go of generations of faith, and just quit.

Following that, I searched through many religions, trying to find what faith struck true with me, inside my heart. I liked Buddhism, but it didn't fit. I flirted with the idea of witchcraft, but all I found were shallow, fake witches. Witches who would claim they cast spells to make people love them, or to get the position they wanted in a job, or to summon X-deity to fill them with divine energy. Some would even "summon demons" to have sex with them. I moved on. The path felt right but the people didn't.

I met various groups in my journey. I learned about real-world vampires, werewolves, and their hierarchies. I learned about people who made pacts with demons they let into their souls. I learned about mirrors as portals, and people foolish enough to open them (and not close them). I learned about angel-people and demon-people. I learned about were-beasts non-related to werewolves specifically. And I tried out all of them. It was fun, and I even met a few high-level psychics. I once knew someone who would channel Thor. Thor, in his usual mannerism, saw a woman (me), and flirted with me.

Not long after, some of my new, unique friends brought chaos and danger to my home. I did not know if it was demons or spirits. I wisely chose not to find out. One time, I was weakened to the point of barely being able to walk. I somehow made it home. It was around this period that my empathy became highly apparent. I also had some presence tied to me. Whether I let it in or it would speak through me, it  was definitely there. It would close me out sometimes when I was tired, and take control. It would talk to others about me. I retained some small memories afterwards. It talked about wishing to be with me, that it fell in love with me.

After some time, while learning to deal with my empathy, I shut it off for awhile. I became horrified, in a way. My empathy now locked away, I could FEEL nothing. There was no emotion. I floated through life, empty. I hated it. I hated it more than almost anything I've ever experienced. It also gave a window to the spirit, who was overly bold and said and did many things I did not approve of. Eventually (and at this point I can't remember how), I managed to return my empathy, and I locked that spirit away, slammed the door, and threw away the key. I never know if he is still with me but I keep him locked away. I have not felt his presence in many, many years.

At this point, many people would say, "You had a schizophrenic episode. Glad you're better now." But I believe it was more than that. I learned so much about the world that no one really sees. I don't flirt with dangerous, dark things like I had in the past. But the evil is out there in many forms, I can promise that. I chose a path of light. I am still easily attracted to darkness. It's arousing to me. But I do not let it sway me. I am stronger than the darkness now, and it doesn't control me.

There is much more story to follow in my journey, but for brevity (or what I can manage after all that), I will simply say, I found my way to paganism, and then to witchcraft again. I became a solitary witch, as no coven was available that seemed open and accepting for my needs. I practice little, but I still feel, in my heart, I truly am a witch. I am a healer. I am a giver.

I write this blog, to share my experience. I was born a Christian, but I became a witch. To me, Christianity was, and always will be, a cult. And I know I am strong, because I walked away. I left the cult to pursue my true calling, though it took a lot of struggle, risk, and pain to get to where I am today. My life was never a quiet, boring one. There's been a lot of strife and struggle for my entire journey. Now here I stand, and I accept Christians as equals. But nothing would ever convince me to go back to that. For me, I have grown well beyond my Christian roots. There's no turning back now.

NOTE:

For any Christians, werepeople, vampires, or others who read this post, know that this blog was about my experiences and my life, and it has no reflection on you. I do not judge you. I will treat you as any other equal until which point you give me reason to do otherwise.

Beauty Within

Beauty Within

One little secret I know that few others do.

It's not the weight or whether it's me or you. 

A girl's beauty is not in her hips. 

Nor can you find it around her hips. 

Beauty resides in a girl's eyes.

For a soul's windows do not know to lie.

A beautiful woman loves mostly her alone.

For all those you love will have come and have gone.

Love is fickle and can be stripped away.

So love your beauty, the inside never fades.

Cherish it dearly for it's all you truly own.

Despite all the lovers you may have known.

Though your skin may wrinkle and fold,

The secret lies in the confines of your soul.

So love yourself dearly, for here lies the facts...

Beauty inside you won't die or crack.

~M.M.

Life...

Life...

   What people never get is life is fucked up. So many Christians think if you pray hard enough, if you worship loud enough, if you love strong enough, and if you idolize God religiously enough, you will get into heaven. And that will make all our struggles worth it. 

   No, what people don't get is life is hell. People kill each other over sports, women, drugs, and lies. People will destroy you in less than a heartbeat if the reason or the money is right. And people will abuse everything too: animals, nature, cars, friends. People are cruel.

   There's that argument that there are good people, and that not everyone is inherently evil. And this is true. But what people fail to accept is that there are a great number of bad people in the world a great shortage of good ones. And we're too bus mocking each other to really want to make a difference.

  Remember when trolling was a shunned thing? When people who trolled were called bullied, or were sent to counseling? There really was a time when internet trolls were put down every day. But then we just gave up. Remember when school bullies would go to counseling too, or sometimes jail? Remember when we had correctional institutions where kids would go through a training program until they were exhausted, retrained, and sorry for what they did? Yea we don't care about that anymore either. 

   These days, people hide behind the excuse that it cannot be stopped, or it's too big for us. Drinking is socializing now, and smoking and drugs are common. Most people know a USER or a DRUNK. And they just accept it. Most people know a suicidal person and they refuse to get them help. You know there's a phone number you can call to put them into a mental institution? Sure it might not be the sweetest thing you can do, but it will make them better. And they may hate you for it. But trust me, they need that kind of help.

   And then we have our government. We had a chance to completely fix our government problem. And we didn't just failed, we rolled over and asked for seconds. We let the worst possible choice become our president, and didn't take our big chance to change the course of our government policies. Here's a handy link for you.

http://rethinkredtape.com/blog/details/can-ordinary-people-change-government-policies

   I could write a book on how fucked up people really are, but for a blog's sake I'll cut it short. People need to wake up and realize that nobody cares. Then dwell on that realization for a while, meditate on it. Then think about those who really do care. It's not that many, maybe one or two or three.  But you have at least one real friend in your group of "followers" that really supports you. Find those people in your life and thank them for being there for you. They really deserve the gratitude for not being one piece of this life-long hell we all live in.

Loneliness And Too Much Heart

Loneliness And Too Much Heart

   Do you know what it's like to feel lonely? I don't mean that feeling of, "I'm lonely. Let me call/text my friends." I mean true, ongoing loneliness, unrelieved by seeing others. Some would call it depression. Others would call it emo. Sometimes even "needy." Neediness can be mended. Loneliness can too. But it takes work. Not just work from the lonely person but from others, too. 

   I watched OA recently, and it reminded me of one of the worst things a lonely person can see in their lives: true friendship. Deep, unrestrained friendship, free of awkwardness and pettiness. The kind of friendship where 5 strangers, a few of them who despise each other, come together and learn to love each other as only true friends can. And it's painful for lonely people, because a lonely person has come to a situation where they know it will never happen for them.

   Lonely people are not lonely because people are good and kind to them. Lonely people are born out of a cruel society and a feeling of never fitting in. They may be considered psychos or drama queens. Now, I'm not saying such people are untrue. There are many psychotic people and many drama queens who deserve the title. But there are many who don't, too,

   I grew up as a lonely, unloved girl in society. I've never fit in. The people I liked always despised me, even some of the other misfits. I never belonged with any group, and yet I refused to give up loving people. I was the perfect case for a psychopath shooting up a school. But hate was never really in my coding. I just wanted to be loved and accepted. I had one friend at any given time, and I'd always lose that 1 friend at some point when they'd get some petty anger at me that they couldn't find it in themselves to forgive and forget. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted love and acceptance.

   I made it through college, and I was struggling. I tried to make friends but I didn't have kids, I didn't love boys and makeup, and I was too down-to-earth for most people. I found friendship with some local homeless youths. Little did I know, I was going to need to rely on them someday.

   Many years later, I learned how to be lonely with my family. I had to live with my parents again to try to find a way to stay off the streets. I was an embarrassment, she'd say. I was too loud, too lazy, too sarcastic, too cruel. And again, I was only wanting love and acceptance... and survival. I almost returned to the streets many times. I was more lonely then, than I'd ever been.

   Time went by, and I managed to stand on my own, supported by the job my parents handed to me. They'd made many friends through their customers, but when they left, many of those people refused my business, because I was not their friend. I was never cruel or harsh, but I simply wasn't good enough. I lost more than half my customers for no other reason than the fact that I was not my mother.

   The job eventually failed, and money ran out. I met a sweet guy, the one I'm with now. We made a life together. I was part of the pagan community. Yet that didn't fix my loneliness. When I tried to talk to those in the pagan group we'd be part of, they'd shun me and move elsewhere. When I tried to do rituals, people would talk to me about not doing my best. I had a terrible, aching loneliness, and anger for their judgments and their attitudes toward me. After all, I was only seeking love and acceptance.

   I eventually moved on to a new pagan group, who were more welcoming and comforting. But when I began to struggle to come see them and do the things they did, suddenly I was ignored by most of them and no one wanted to help. Three birthdays went by, and only one friend attended each.... not the same friend at all three. 

   My life has been a long road of feeling lonely and imperfect. People try to claim that I have all these friends and that everyone is here for me. But that doesn't cure the loneliness. There's one thing to have friends on Facebook, but for all of the connection we all have online, how much are we spending time face to face, holding hands or giving hugs, or really seeing each other. And for those who do, why is it so hard to take time away from your hundred friends with their hundred friends to sometimes visit the one friend who has almost nobody?

   See what people just can't allow themselves to accept is that some people are lonely because they are so often alone. And that they are surrounded in life by people who are never alone, even for a few moments. Lonely people don't want that many friends, but lonely people want a few. A small group of very open, very loving, very dedicated friends is all we need. We don't want sympathy friends, but we do want some people to give us a chance to show what a great friend we can be. 

   Lonely people are often less desired because they want it so much more than the others. And yet that backwards logic is unintentionally expressed by millions of people around the world. There will always be the popular people and there will always be the lonely people. Because I feel that others will never really allow themselves to feel so much that they truly understand each other, deep down. 

                                                                ~~~~~( <3 )~~~~~

So I ask you one last time... do you know what it means to be truly lonely? I do. I have my whole life.

Memories of the Imperfect:

Story 1: Humbled and Rehumbled:

   I lived a hard life, full of struggle and lack of gain. Most of the time I don't like talking about my past because then people pity me. I hate pity, Pity feels a whole lot like being worthless. Today's memory is about my parents, and living with them for the last time. This is the time in my life that broke my family off from me. 

   I was so hungry. But I had spent years trying to survive. And I was starting to go through periods of weakness. I'd lost nearly all concern for my life. But I was never one to give up. I finally let go of my pride and called my mother, and asked to come home. She was so much more than ok with it. She sent me a ticket for me and my current partner. I was so tired I slept nearly the whole way out to her place. I remember seeing trees and green grass for miles, and I cried, because I'd been in Arizona for so long, and I'd missed the pretty green things. It was good to be home.

   And it really was, for a few months. Living with my mom and step-dad, my boyfriend and I were fighting constantly, but I was told that's healthy in a relationship. So I did my best for us to get along. The first setback was when my mom told me that he would need to sleep on the couch because she was tired of hearing us doing what couples always do. She forgot the fact that we had to hear them too, but it was their house, and we didn't intend to stay longer than we had to. I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the entryway, after all. Then it started to become about them constantly being suspicious that we were using the shower for our love-making (which we were definitely not, but they refused to fully believe that.)

   So we finally found a happy medium again, but it wasn't meant to be. My mom and I came home one day from our daily walk and found my boyfriend packed and standing by the door, waiting for his ride. This was the second setback. I was shocked. Sure, we fought a lot, but it wasn't as bad as some couples. Mom and I were not even fighting anymore. But he refused to say much at all, and his rid came, and he left. I was devastated. What's worse, he ended up stealing many things, the most expensive of which was my first tarot deck, which was given to me by a friend back in Arizona. He also stole many other things, dryer sheets, toilet paper, weird things to steal. 

  The third setback was when my mom tried to talk to me about keeping her up with my crying. I guess it was ok for me to have a broken heart, as long as I didn't wake anyone up with it. This was the beginning of me feeling very isolated and lonely in my parents' home, and the start of a downhill slide in our relationship.Then conversations about shower lovemaking were replaced with suspicions about shower masturbation. Which, again I wasn't doing... which again they didn't believe. The repetitive behavior they were showing in not believing things I told them was swiftly building a distrust I'd had of them, making it feel as if my words didn't mean anything to them.

  At this point, we will skip along the daily life of a woman and her parents, and past the time where we moved into a new house. I missed the old house from the moment we'd left it. It was beautiful and surrounded by woods and had a yard to tend and a garden. My parents had lost their 2 dogs to old age, and they were growing more unhappy all the time. But they were polite, and they let e share the running of the  house with them, and I had a computer, and could watch TV, etc. 

   After some time, my parents became less comfortable with me in their home. Daily conversations often included asking when I'd get a job, as if I could predict the date. It wasn't for lack of trying, I just wasn't having any luck. After I started getting some interviews again, those conversations turned into how my mother will use my income to help pay rent and bills, which would leave me very little to live on, but my mother insisted it was to "Pay my stay" basically. I would always respond how I'd never be able to move out if I didn't have the ability to save money, and then it would blow up into a huge fight. She wanted all my money for her rent and vills, and I wanted to live on my own again.

   At this point, I'd been slowly transitioned by my parents to doing all of the house chores or face the passive-aggressive wrath of my parents, pretending I wanted to be lazy and useless all the time. Sometimes those were the exact words I'd use. Nevermind that my step-dad would leave his coke cans around, attracting ants, if I didn't find the can soon enough, or the fact that they would clutter up their space with all manner of unorganized junk and then occasionally tell me to dust (which included me organizing their junk FOR them.) Let's also not mention the fact that they couldn't even rinse a single dish so that I had to scrub a dish for up to 10 minutes sometimes (no exaggeration.) And let's finally not mention the fact that house chores never took a sick day, because if I was feeling too tired or unwell (I had a frequent bout of insomnia), I would have to face the dreaded passive-aggressive attack again. 

   So I was cleaning the house every day, while looking for a job, while trying to stay out of my parents' way (generally in my room alone was best) to avoid irritating them, still at this point not realizing that something had broken with the relationship. I constantly had to turn music up loud on my headphones to drown out their love-making, because it was their house and if I even hinted at how it made me feel awkward, my mother would start avoiding speaking to, or interacting with, me as much as possible til I'd retract my statement, causing a mini fight every time. 

  And again, I did my best with my surroundings. Even when my parents started taking away TV time, and unplugging my computer at times to try to encourage me to do even more job hunting (as if that even helped), I really, really tried to make it work. At that point, though, it was clear something was broken. My step-dad starting being more overt about his racism and bigotry, as well as his beginning to assert dominance over me, trying to mute me with intimidation whenever I argued against my mother's constant criticism. 

  Yet further along my stay with the,. I was angry and frustrated that I was still trapped in that house with my neurotic mother, and bigoted step-dad. They fought all the time now, mostly about a game they often played.Apparently my step-dad was a bit of a flirt. However, I was stuck in the middle. We couldn't leave the house without a fight anymore, or my mother claiming that I embarrass her in public, and she always said the fights were my fault. She started criticizing everything I did, and every way I'd speak, and I couldn't go two minutes without her finding fault in me. I still tried to please her. I still tried to make peace... at least until the day my step-dad charged at my bedroom. I was scared half to death. I thought he was going to kill me. And it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with my mother and me. My mother made him stop while I screamed curses and threats at him, threats that I would leave and call the police and send him to jail forever if he touched me.

   He started backing down after that day, and I thought I'd see peace again. But again, that was just an illusion. Shortly after, it became a fight for control over my life. I did as they asked or they would threaten to kick me out. I'd finally had a job, but all my money went into covering needs I couldn't get before. There was no money for her, or for my own home. I can't recall how many times I almost went back to the streets. My step-dad was bitter and evil. He'd lost some of his sight, and his idleness was making him horrible and cruel. 

   Life continued this way for quite some time. Eventually, I'd met someone at work who invited me out to trivia sometimes, then shortly after, I'd met my boyfriend. Life became tolerable again. And all the time my parents would threaten to use the gun they had to kill themselves whenever anyone fought, I was never that way. I never, in all of my despair, felt the need to end my life. Sometimes I think that was good, because my boyfriend is a godsend. Sometimes I wonder how good it really was, because here I am, no job, no car, no future. I feel like I've achieved almost nothing in my life.

Daily Struggle

Daily Struggle of a White Woman

I am a bird in a cage. I now have food, and water, and a perch on which to sleep, but I am still just a small, caged life, crying for freedom but knowing that though the door is open, I am fighting not to fly away because I know if I do, I will be flying back to my struggle and my emptiness. Though it seems emptiness is all I have, even now. I am surviving but that survival doesn't bring me any peace, because I am still unhappy, wrapped in emptiness and longing and a need to be MORE!

I was not born to simply exist. So why have the gods decided that my life should be wrapped up only in its own existence, without meaning or purpose or use to anyone. I play all day, which might be perfect for some but I am RESTLESS in my own EMPTINESS!

I know that I bring us all down and we struggle, but try as hard as I might, no one, NO ONE cares that I want to make us better than I do. No one can seem to come out of their lives to see my pain and emptiness and constant solitude to see what a waste my life truly is.

I think sometimes maybe it would be better for all who know me if I was hit by a car or killed by some random madman hellbent on killing women, because that is often what madmen do. But I'm not ready to die. I haven't done anything. I have a useless life. I've done nothing but fight to live my entire life and I am ANGRY! EVERY DAY!

I see these people in their actual houses and actual cars that THEY DRIVE. I wonder why can't I have a house and a car? I see these people with their silly, happy children, and their perfect relationships which I know are never really perfect but they are so open about their perfection that my heart breaks. And I am ANGRY! And also really sad.

I don't even know my daughter's age anymore. I wish people would never ask if I have a child, because it would be nicer to forget her, now that I'm not allowed to watch her grow up, knowing she is happy but that I have been punished with isolation despite keeping my promise to stay ANONYMOUS!

I see friends at events and festivals and more, and it's so very nice to see them, but I feel like  years pass sometimes between seeing people I like and care about. No one just comes to see me because they like my company. No one comes to see me because I'm their friend. WHY AM I EVEN HERE?

People don't understand my anger and my frustration because everyone has SOMETHING! They also cannot comprehend my intense myriad of daily emotions, always feeling everything, always seeing everything, yet if I speak on my feelings, people feel like I am being out of control, because how dare I even express the anger and constant frustration of being train stopped on a rusty track and never seeing hope of continuing on in my life, for the REST OF MY LIFE. 

I am what they call "privileged" because I am white. What they forget is I'm a woman. Sexism is a thing. What they forget is I'm poor. Power can make people very judgey of the poor. Poor people can't go out as often. Poor people can't buy presents as often. Poor people can't join conversations of shopping for that... "OMG did you SEE the latest thing Janet put up on her store?" Or "I smudge every week. The place I shop is SOOO cheap." No, darling it's not. It's cheap for people with money, not for people who have to choose to eat less healthy for budgeting. For people who eat the same meal type for sometimes two weeks just to stretch out resources. For those people there's no such thing as cheap.

I know many people will see this as a rant, or seeking attention, but for me, I have no way of letting out my incessant anger and frustration. And I just want to tell everyone how unhappy I am, but no one wants to listen. It makes them sad, and we just can't have other people feeling sad. I am very blunt, and to be honest, people rarely give me a reason to care if anyone LIKES what I SAY because its not like you were LISTENING to me ANYWAY.