#writerschallenge2019 ~ Three Things About Me

“The shortest distance between two people is a story.”

~Patti Digh, Four-Word Self-Help: Simple Wisdom for Complex Lives

The Challenge

I am working on a writers challenge, #writerschallenge2019.  It was supposed to be done in March, but well, now it is April and here we are.  I also realize that it is in the wee hours of April 3rd and I am already two days behind. I guess that means today will be a busy day for me!

The challenge is easy.  31 posts in a month, each with a different given topic.  However, it is going to push me. Not only do I have to write a post everyday, but I have to use a specific topic.  That is not something that I am used to. Yay for growth!

Here we go.

Post #1 – Three Things About Me

(I have been sitting here for 10 minutes and I still trying to figure out what to write.  Totally overthinking it. Ahhh)

I am a witch.

I am a witch.  Through and through.  I have officially been a solitary witch for fifteen years, I have been initiated into the Temple of Witchcraft for five years, and I am currently working on my first year at Black Rose Witchcraft.  Looking back though, I have always been a witch.  How many Catholic teenagers wait until everyone is asleep to make a candle altar and send out intentions. Not to many.  

Magick is my life.  It is blood, breath, and bone.  It is earth, air, fire, and water.  It is spirit. Yes, I do spells and rituals, but it is so much for than that.  It is knowing myself, and my shadow, and keeping a relationship between the two.  It is divination, meditation, and observation. It is community.

I am 100% out of the broom closet.  I practically blink witch like a neon sign.  It is not that I flaunt it, it is just who I am, and I decided about four years ago that I was not going to hide anymore.  I am the official office witch, clearing “curses” on co-workers good luck charms. Really. That happened.

Probably one of my favorite things about being a witch is being able to share the magick with little witchlings.  My niece is well on her way and she is eight years old. Read about her here.

Sloane is four and she is an expert on fairies and the Night Wood.  A post about her is coming soon. Both of these little magickal girls are so receptive, my makes my heart happy.

I feel like I could just write forever about this topic.  It is such a huge part of my life, I can’t even see myself on any other path.  Being in this community, I am blessed.

I am an Auntie.

I love being an Auntie.  I have three nieces and one nephew and another baby on the way.  I can’t have kids and at times it is really hard for me, but I love being able to spend time with my brood.  I am really close with my nieces and I need to foster a better relationship for my nephew. It is harder with the boys I think.  I don’t really know what to do, but I love him dearly, and he knows that. Now he is getting older and I think I can start to do things with him.  

For Christmas this year, I got all of them crystals for the first time.  I got them a tumbled and a raw crystal of their birth stone. It was a huge hit!  I loved sitting with them one on one and explaining the crystal to them. They really seemed to like it.  Especially Alexandra, she is a little witchling. We recently went out one on one and I bought her, her first pendulum.  She calls it her mind reading crystal. I freaking love it.

I remember the day that each of them were born, and what it was like to hold them for the first time.  I remember the first time my eldest niece told me she loved me. I remember when my nephew used to fall asleep in my arms because I have magic breasts that put babies to sleep.  I remember my teaching my youngest niece colors and how to say balloon. I love these kids so much. They are such a blessing to me and to the entire family.

I live with mental health disorders.

This has been the biggest struggle of my life.  My current diagnosis is Bipolar Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and PTSD.  I am on a plethora of medication that I take daily. I deal with extreme highs and extreme lows and I struggle to maintain balance.  I have recently started seeing a new therapist and she is amazing. She is working on updating my diagnosis. She thinks that there are different things going on.  I am hopeful. She seems amazing and so willing to work with me.

I was voluntarily committed to a mental health facility last July for severe thoughts of hurting myself.  I was going through a very terrible situation and found that I could just not handle it myself. It is a difficult thing to admit, but I spent five days there getting regulated, then spent three weeks in a partial outpatient program focusing on DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) and CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy).  Basically, tools to help regulate yourself.  They are fantastic and I am so glad that something good came out of something so awful.

I know this is something that I will have to deal with for my entire life, but I also pride myself in being aware of myself.  I can feel myself slipping and I know how to ask for help. I do what I need to do. I go to therapy weekly, I take my medications daily and I live the best life I can.  It is something I deal with, not who I am.

Thank you so much for learning a little bit about me!  Drop me something special about you in the comments!

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Just another manic Monday…Tuesday… Wednesday??


“It is not the language of painters but the language of nature which one should listen to, the feeling for the things themselves, for reality is more important than the feeling for pictures.”


~ Vincent Van Gogh

It started out like any other Sunday night, I was at the Circle of Sound with the Temple of Witchcraft, which is my favorite circle.  I was in a great mood, and bouncing around much like I usually do, but mid way through the circle, I snapped out of the meditative state.  It was weird, it was just like BAM, over. I obviously stayed quiet, but I couldn’t tune in after that.

I got home about 11:30pm.  I had stayed after to chat and help clean up.  I couldn’t sleep, I wasn’t even close, I thought that I was just wired from the circle, but it didn’t stop… next thing I knew it was 4am on a work night… bad news bears.

It didn’t even occur to me, until half way through Monday and I was talking fast and bouncing around, full of energy even with so little sleep.  I was in a manic episode. Dammit. The problem with mania is you are never quite sure if you are manic or just in a really good mood, until you have done some stupid shit.  Generally, I spend money I don’t have on things that I don’t need, and I have sex, lots of it. Could be worse, I could be one of the angry ones that stabs people. Silver lining.

I was really hyped up, everyone at work noticed.  Yet I was also having the best sales day I the entire month.  I call that a win, kind of. Much like I do at the end of a super manic day, I passed out.  Some people stay up for days without sleep, in my case, I burn so much energy throughout the day, I tend to pass out around 9pm.  

I wake up Tuesday, I do the open one eye thing to see how the day is going to be.  Yup, still manic. Even worse than Monday. So far I had been able to behave myself, but the struggle was real.  Work again flew by in a energetic daze. Again, a great sales day. I am starting to see a pattern, and not a good one.  Tuesday night, again, I pass out.

Wednesday comes around, I was still elevated, but not as much.  Still a great sales day, but my anxiety was starting to come back.  I had a date with a new guy Wednesday night so I was nervous about that. (It went great though!) By some miracle, I was able to behave myself again.  Now that is a win.

Thursday.  The inevitable happened.  The crash. Oh boy did I crash hard.  I couldn’t get out of bed, I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t even cry, I was just gone. Blank, empty.  This is the worst part of being manic. It feels so good when you are in it, but eventually, you will come down, and you will come down hard.  

Today is better, I am in a mixed state of sorts, not really sure.  That sounds so weird, not being sure what kind of mood you are in, but it is real life.  Sometimes, I just have no idea. I push through as best I can and see what shakes out.

I have gotten to a point in my life where I understand that bipolar disorder is an important part of who I am.  Depressed or manic, I wouldn’t be me without it. I think I am pretty awesome, and so life goes on. It feels good to accept it.  When someone asks me how I am, I am not afraid to say I am manic today, so enjoy the ride! Or I am feeling very low, be gentle with me.

This is my life.  It’s hard, but it’s mine and I love it, even if I don’t like it sometimes.

xxoo

Bipolar mental disorder abstract psychological illness concept as a butterfly divided as one side in grey and sad colors with the other in full bright tones as a medical metaphor for psychiatric mood or feelings imbalance.
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Say Something

“We shouldn’t have to out ourselves as survivors in order for people to grasp the magnitude of how systematic assault and harassment are.”

~Laura Witt

On Friday night I was sexually assaulted, and I almost let it go.  Sexual assault is a big umbrella, one that I am all too familiar with.  I have always been quiet, not one to talk and say things. An easy target, especially when I was younger.  Now, I am 36 and still, I find it hard to say things, or even force myself to recognize that it even happened.  It’s easier to ignore it. Easier not to deal with it. Not this time.

I have a following on here, be it a little one, but if one person reads it that needs to see this, then it will be worth the uncomfortableness of talking about it.

It was our 3rd date.  We had already had sex so that wasn’t even a worry for me.  We hung out, watched movies. Well, things progressed they way that they do.  Now, there is something specific that I will not do sexually. I just don’t like. Period. I am upfront and honest with everyone about it.  It is a hard no. NO.

I reminded him of this, and he verbally agreed that he understood.  Well. After about an hour of fooling around, and me reminding him three times,  he held me down and forced me to do it. I said no, and tried to push him away. All he said was sorry.  

Now here is the important part that even I need to keep reminding myself of.  I 100% consented to having sex with him that night. I 100% consented to do anything except this one act.  To that, I said no. I said no and he forced me to do it anyway. That is sexual assault. That is not ok. To make matters worse, it took me three days to even realize it.  

3 Days.

If I had been raped, three days is enough time to wash any DNA that might be there away.  I know this, yet I still did nothing. In Jr High, when I teacher assaulted me, I said nothing.  In highschool, when my teacher touched me, I said nothing. 8 years ago, when I was raped by a guy I was dating, I didn’t say anything for five whole years.  Then all of it just came out in a therapy session and I was crying so much that I couldn’t breathe. Complex PTSD they said. Lovely another diagnosis.

Don’t make the same mistakes I did and live quietly for years suffering in silence.  Do something, say something.

Now this guy won’t leave me alone,  He keeps messaging me, even though I have blocked him, he found a way through.  I have been brushing it all off, but I just keep getting this feeling inside that something is wrong.  Something is wrong, and for the first time I am going to do something about it.

Every state has a Sexual Assault hotline.  In NH, it is 1-800-227-5570, and I called it.  Within 5 minutes an advocate called me back. It was helpful to talk about it with someone and have them validate that my feelings were real and valid.  She is finding me some information and calling me back. I don’t know if anything will come of it, but I feel better knowing that I told someone what happened and that it was validated that it wasn’t something I was making up in my head.

I am still upset with myself for not taking it more seriously.  If we can’t stick up for ourselves, then who will?

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I Had A Revelation


Who knows what a little
A little love can change?
I know just a little
A little love will change you


Meet me in the middle
In the middle we can meet again
If we meet in the middle
I know you’ll love me til the end

~Josh Farro, Paramore

You know those times in your life when you are going through a bunch of crap and you can’t really figure out why you feel the way you do?  Then out of nowhere, Poof! You figure it out. I call this a revelation. They don’t happen very often, but when they do, it’s awesome! I had one last night, and now I don’t know if I feel better or worse.

I have been having so much fun dating, just having a blast, no strings attached.  Being my own person and meeting some great people, but since I fell into “like” with Mr. Dammit, (See my post, Dammit), things have been weird.  I am no longer satisfied with just dating, I need more and I didn’t understand why this came out of nowhere.  Now I do… I don’t need a relationship, I need intimacy. Or maybe both, I don’t know.

I learned very quickly after my divorce 10 years ago that sex and intimacy do not always go together.  I understand, that for some people they have to, but for me, nope. They are two very, very different things, and I can easily have one without the other.  I have been living in blissful ignorance of how important intimacy is to me and now that I know, I can’t get it out of my head.

I need touch: holding hands in the car, cuddling on the couch watching a movie, or laying in bed, legs tangled together just talking about random things.

Forehead Kisses. (So important it gets its own line).

I will say it again, forehead kisses.

I need someone who plays with my hair absentmindedly, texts me just to tell me they are thinking of me, and NOT how excited they are to have sex with me.  See the difference?

My last boyfriend spoiled me.  Not with things, but with love and feelings and touch.  He always told me to wear my seat belt (something I never do, bad I know).  He wasn’t telling me what to do, but expressing that he cared for my safety, so I did.  He could talk me out of bed on bad days, which is not an easy task. At restaurants we would hold hands across the table, we were almost always touching in someway.  I miss that.

I know that everyone is different, but intimacy is intimacy.  I was doing just fine until Mr. Dammit. With him, I had intimacy.  I don’t know how, time was so limited, but it was there nonetheless, and now I remember what it feels like and I am craving it again.


“It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.”


~Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

So now that I have this information, I need to figure out what I am going to do with it.  My first impulse was to stop talking to everyone I have been hanging out with, but that seemed rash, so I didn’t do that.  I really need to take inventory (silly word, I know) and see if there is potential there, and if not, move on.. Sounds harsh, but in the end it is about me, and what makes me happy.  If I don’t make changes, then I will live in the same unhappy place forever.

Wish me luck!

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Depression


“I need one of those long hugs where you kinda forget whatever else is happening around you for a minute”


~Marilyn Monroe

There was nothing but numbness.  No emotion, no tears, no anger or pain.  Just nothing. Like an empty hole in my chest.  A hole that nothing could fill. Depression.

The day started out like normal.  I woke up, got some things together, I dropped off a raffle item off for a fundraiser, then I spent some time with a friend. All good things. Then it hit me out of nowhere.  The numbness. It was 2:30pm.

I was dragging by the time I made the twenty five minute trip home.  I pulled myself up to my apartment, then went straight to bed. So many things to do, yet I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  Settled under my weighted blanket I did an anxiety meditation. I said to myself, “I don’t think my brain can handle more than fifteen minutes”.  So I did twenty. Small win for me.

I faded off to sleep quickly.  My alarm set for 5:30 pm so I could wake up and go to the Circle of Sound.  One on my most favorite rituals put on by the Temple of Witchcraft. I never miss a gathering.  When my alarm went off, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t get out of bed. I could barely lift my head to text my friend and let her know I wasn’t coming.  I cried. Just a little. I could have slept all night at that moment. I ended up getting out of bed at 7 pm.

I was numb for the rest of the night.  I didn’t write, I didn’t read, I didn’t even watch TV,  I just kind of sat there for a few hours then went back to bed.  The only reason I got up was to spend some time with the cats. The day needed to be over, and the only way to make that happen was to go to sleep.

I put the cats to bed, took my pills, and tucked myself in.  I needed a hug, I needed to be held, but there was no one there, just me, me and my Winnie the Pooh bear.

Just like that, a perfectly good Sunday down the drain because of a random bout of depression.  There was no trigger, there was no reason for it, it just came out of nowhere and knocked me on my ass.

Come the morning and the world was right again.  This is my life, living with depression.

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