Today I actually felt a lot better! I’m not over it completely but compared to Monday…I’m so much better. PT is sick too. I brought her a jar of turkey broth that I made over the weekend and some fire cider. Those two things helped me….not as much as my neti pot but they helped.
Yesterday when I was at my favorite local apothecary picking up the newest batch of incense and some loose tea the owner mentioned a book to me. She knows of my connection to Hecate and when I mentioned my birthday dream she said “I am reading this book and I think you need to read it too.” We talked for quite some time yesterday, I really like this woman. She has the best energy and her store front is warm and welcoming.
I went home and looked up the book -Journey to the Dark Goddess by Jane Meredith. There was some special on Amazon and I was able to get a free trial on Audible. I thought you could only do that once but who am I to argue? I guess I was meant to read it. I’m not that far into this book and it has hit home on many points already.
The mini “explosions” of change that happen over our lives, change and forced change. The ultimate goal being a balance between the light and the dark. If I am going to be honest, shadow work has always freaked me out. We all have a dark side but to go in willingly and to do the work and face the naked truth of myself…..it scares me. It scares me so much that most of my changes have been the forced kind.
“We don’t talk about those things. ” When I would come back from a visit from my Southern Grandma I would always have stories to tell. The kids in the neighborhood would stare in awe as I talked about outhouses, horses, cows, and chickens. I would relay the events of the trip and I always had a tinge of an accent. I’m not sure why I picked that up so fast but I did, it never lasted long but it was always there. I think maybe my mom was embarrassed by where she came from? I wasn’t embarrassed, I thought it was cool. I was a kid…how was I supposed to remember what was acceptable to talk about? This was the first time I remember being told to censor my speech.
Changing schools was another thing…it kept me from getting too close to form any long term connections. First and second grade were at one school until my dad found another Catholic school that was cheaper. My oldest friend and others in the neighborhood still went to the old school and I had to start over again in third grade. Third through sixth grade the friendships were getting stronger. I only have one friend from this time that I sort of keep in touch, if you count Facebook? I see her posts with the reunions and with other people from this time and sometimes I wonder how different high school would have been if I went to the same high school that contained my first through sixth grade friends?
“Don’t hang on him like that.” The first time I heard those words they were from a nun…my fifth grade teacher. The priest and maybe the principal? I can’t remember but he walked on to the playground and I ran up and hugged him. I guess that was bad? She made me feel like I did something wrong? She was nicest nun I ever knew so I listened but I still didn’t understand it. My aunt’s sister in law said the same words to me when I hugged her husband. I was like eleven or twelve? I still don’t know why? I always hugged him before and now I wasn’t supposed to hug him? These are still confusing memories to me because I am a hugger. I can’t help it…I like to give hugs.
My parents went through a divorce and my mom married the step monster and we moved to a rural area where at seventh grade, I had to start over again. I met KB that first day. All of the supposed friend and boy drama from seventh and eighth grade means nothing. I went through those things to meet one of my tribe…a real friend. High school was the same thing the first year. KB was a year behind me so I had to wait a year. I was not a fan of high school with all of the cliques and the snotty kids whose parents bought them everything. I wasn’t a fan of the green plaid skirt either. Twelve years of a good ole Catholic education is a very strong foundation to have when you think for yourself. I swear…every time I find myself stuck at a mass….they talk about sheep. (insert eye roll)
Ahhh, the subject of religion…so taboo. I knew in second grade that this wasn’t the life for me. I was a kid so I had to do what I was told but I always questioned everything. I was raised to believe that the Catholic religion was the only religion even though it never felt right to me. My grandmother was hardcore and went to church everyday. She tried her best but it didn’t stick with me.
Changing schools doesn’t seem like a big thing but every time I did it, I left a part of my identity behind and I started over. I think that’s why I worked so hard to make sure that the Boy and Girl graduated from the same school that they entered into in kindergarten. They both chose to go to PT’s school for their junior and senior year but their diploma was still from their home school.
Right before I married my ex husband he received a promotion at work and we had to move. Yes I survived, yes I met good people…but it wasn’t home. MK was my tribe member I picked up from this move. We don’t see each other very often but we talk and text throughout the year.
There are other little things that happened here and there but the big one was when my mom died. I’m not sure that I’m over that one yet and she died in November of 2001. Some days I don’t even know how I survived. If I didn’t have the Boy and Girl…I don’t know if I would have survived that one because I got out of bed every day because they needed me….not because I wanted to get up. I left my ex husband two days before she died..talk about total change! He didn’t pay child support until the disillusion was final and the courts ordered it…that was a lot of fun. It also started the fear and panic of not being able to support the three of us.
I lived on blind faith and the kindness of others when I lived in that house. From my cousin helping with electricity, my brother helping when he could, friends of friends, etc. Somehow we survived.
The Universe was pushing me out of the job I liked so much in custom framing. I ignored it until it was a forced change. Again…somehow I survived while supporting two little kids. It gives me anxiety to even think about it. That’s when I ended up working in the kitchen of that bar. There were many things that happened during that time that were traumatizing…pre Cockroach. I don’t have it in me to go there today. All of those things that you do in your twenties…when you’re in college….I did in my thirties…in three months. What did I gain from that time….a very valuable member of my tribe PT. I also picked up a Cockroach but that’s the next trauma.
The Cockroach…the second hardest thing I have survived so far. It was all a game to him..all of it. It turned into his newest way to live off of someone else. Unfortunately it took me a long time to admit this to myself. I knew on some level….I knew but couldn’t admit it to myself and didn’t know how to get out of it. Years of living like a trapped animal may have cured me of men forever. I’m sure that’s a lesson still to come but it’s not here yet. You guys know the story…I have been blabbering on about it for the last seven years. The lies, betrayal, cheating,drugs, humiliation, and the attempted destruction of my character as well as my self. I survived it…I held my breath a lot but I survived it.
The abandoning and then selling of my mother’s house. Cockroach breaking into the house and stealing things I hadn’t removed yet. The neighbors and my picnic table? If they did buy it…they bought it from the Cockroach and yet they lied to the police. Police reports….I hope I never have to fill another one of those out as long as I live.
I left that house to move to a haunted transition house. Yes he wasn’t a scary ghost but he was a jerk and he traumatized the dog. That house served it’s purpose until we moved into this house. That was also a traumatic move. My friends purged a lot of my stuff and while I had to re buy a thing or two…my load is lighter. I still feel the need to purge more and I think I might mean more than “stuff.”
You would think by now that I would be an expert at starting over and shedding my skin…and yet here I am…dipping my toe into the pool of the unknown. So when people look at me like I’m crazy when I say “I wouldn’t go back and do it over again,even if I could go back knowing what I know now.” No way…I already did that work. I have less than thirty years left…I just want to get through the work. This life was a hard one…I want to move on and not be reincarnated again. So if I have to do the dirty work…than I need to get busy….Zia