Second guessing

Every moment of every day I second guess everything I think, everything I do, and everything I feel. This sounds like hyperbole as I write it, but it isn’t. I wonder if this is why trust is so hard for me. How can you not second guess everyone else when you have to do it constantly for yourself?

I have had people argue with me about my need to second guess myself. They tell me that I don’t have to always evaluate everything I feel. You know who doesn’t tell me that? My therapists. It got more common for them to agree with me once we realized medication to control my mental health wasn’t possible. There isn’t another method to check my impulses towards self destruction. I used to rely on sources outside myself. Partners, faith, friends, and so many other things. They are all flawed though and none of them allowed me to be fully authentic.

Is it truly authentic to question every thing at every moment? Is what I chose to act on really me? Or are the impulses really me? I hope it is the former. The latter tells me that I don’t deserve good things because the impulses want me to break so much in my life. It is so exhausting to keep them in check though. I spend more of my energy just evaluating than doing.

Part of me wants to know what would happen if I didn’t check myself for a while. Would I ask for what I want? Would I run from what I need? What would I do with all the energy that goes into second guessing? More of me is terrified at the idea. More of me is convinced that I would drive everyone away.

I recently put an intention out into the world to let go of my beliefs about myself that are limiting me from becoming my best self. This was a planned thing on a planned day. In the weeks just prior to this day I found some hard and dark beliefs about myself. Part of me believes that I will always be loved less. Part of me believes that I will always have to fight my own mind. Part of me believes that no matter how hard I fight I will still end up alone with the monsters in my past, in my head.

I am second guessing if I should confront those things. If I should let go of these beliefs. I am terrified of how I could be hurt if I let them go. That fear starts a chain reaction in my head. One that past experience has taught me leads to me burning my life to the ground. It also tells me, that part of me that evaluates every detail, that the fear is the best indicator that I need to challenge those things.

But what if…But what if…But what if….

Around and around it goes in my head. The only carousel ride I can’t enjoy. I lose hours to trying to see each nuance and detail. To weigh and measure it against my values and my trauma. Around and around it goes until I am exhausted and crying. Begging to get off the ride that can never end. Around and around it goes, second guessing each second guess.

You ask why I can’t stop? You wonder if there is another way? Why do I persist when it is so painful and soul consuming? It is simple, my brain lies to me all the time. It tells me that I am only my trauma. It tells me that I am only my deficiencies. There is no logic to that, because so many amazing people love me. The sheer volume says they can’t all be wrong. A part of me really is starting to believe it too.

Before I started second guessing I hurt a lot of people. I still do, occasionally. I don’t always come to the correct conclusion. I just hurt so many fewer people than I used to. Sometimes I can even help. So, around and around I go until the tears blur my vision and I take a leap of faith off this carousel.

At least until the next thought, feeling, or decision


Listening to new voices

The last post was about seeing some internalized messages of love. It was about acknowledging that they existed and are flawed. I found more of those messages this week. Twisted jealous and possessive things. Things that are not part of my values, but exist inside of me anyway.

Fear and panic got the better of me and they spilled everywhere. Twisting my week into something I could not have expected. They are still rooted in a fear that I am not enough. There has been a new voice inside me recently. This voice declares that I am good enough, flawed as I am, I am good. This voice is new and I am unused to listening to her. The old voices are so much more familiar. I understand them. I also don’t want to live there anymore.

Last year I started a thing on the anniversary of my mom’s death. I put out into the universe (and my subconscious) that I was ready to let go of anything that wasn’t moving me forward in my life. The ripples are still being felt. Tidal waves of consequences that have left me gasping for air more than once this last year. This week I got reminded that act isn’t the last step, but the first.

This year I am going to put out there that I want to let go of the beliefs I have about myself that hold me back. The things rooted in pain and fear that keep me from being my best self. Trust me, that best self got drowned out this week. I am looking for her again though. I am learning to listen harder for her.

Star trek Discovery season one has a quote that has been haunting me today.

On the eve of battle, on a cold and windless night, an old general turned to a young soldier. ‘Tomorrow,’ said the master,’you will know Fear.’ The young soldier who had not yet experienced the agony of war looked at the general with quizzical eyes. ‘How will I know Fear if I do not know what it looks like?’ The general replied,’You will know Fear because it speaks very fast and it speaks very loud…’ ‘If that is how Fear acts, recognizing it is easy.’ But as the young soldier considered the general’s advice, she asked the question facing us now,’Once I know Fear, how do I defeat it?’

The only way to defeat fear is to tell it ‘No’. No, we will not take shortcuts on the path to righteousness. No, we will not break the rules that protect us from our basest instincts. No, we will not allow desperation to destroy moral authority.

These were said by Burnham. They have been haunting me for good reason. I broke my own rules because I was afraid. I let that fear speak out and trample my values. This happens because I am human. I am imperfect, and I am still growing. I just have to remember to recognize the voices of fear and tell them no. These things are not true, for I am good. I am enough. Enough, still leaves room for growth, but it accepts that there is goodness now. I am stronger than the voices of fear.

I will continue to work on hearing the new voice. The one that whispers “yes, you can”. Even if it is a whisper in the midst of a hurricane, the murmur of truth is worth finding. The truth is I am better than my fear. The truth is, I deserve good things. The truth is, I am already loved, just as I am. The truth is, I am good enough.

Suffering is not love

I know that suffering is not love seems pretty obvious to most people. I would have said that is obvious even 3 weeks ago. The problem is, it really hasn’t been what I believed. I often have a disconnect between what I know and what I feel, so this shouldn’t surprise me. It did. It shocked me to realize that I had linked the two.

I know how they became linked. I see how it grew in my subconscious. I can even see the false and toxic behavior that it leads me into at times. I can see it, I can see how it drove me to hurt people unintentionally. What I don’t know is how to fix it.

I am probably going to talk about this for a while. I expect to learn new things and see it from different perspectives as I untangle all of this. I am sure I will mess it up and back slide from time to time. I hope that seeing these things will help me make better choices going forward.

I wish I knew what the way forward looks like. I wish I could flip a switch and let this part of my toxic programming go. I know that it will be work. I know it will change me. I just have to have faith that I have learned enough to figure it out as I go.

Internalized messages on love

I am pretty sure I accidentally exposed myself to soy yesterday. Ironically, not from anything I ate at an excellent Thanksgiving dinner. Nope, I am pretty sure I did this at home. I forgot that I hadn’t emptied the travel container of the hair gel I am now allergic to. When I was getting ready I grabbed the smaller container of hair gel (without thinking) for ease of use that day. By the time I got home that evening my feet were very swollen and flaring. Today, I am fighting the residual pain, and dealing with the emotional side effects.

As I have had some practice with these effects recently I was able to see what was happening pretty quickly. Knowing my brain is being hyjacked by hormones, and histame reaction, it allowed me to step back and observe the thoughts and emotions critically without repressing them. My big clue was that Madame Secertary was making me cry. Then when I started to observe these thoughts I noticed some interesting things.

Most of them was about the cleanliness of my home and what I ‘should’ be doing to make myself ‘pretty’ enough before going out this evening. This isn’t news to anyone that knows me. This is the primary issue that can make me toxic to live with. These are the messages that make me exacting, controlling, judgemental of anyone living with me. I know where they come from. I even know that most of them are not really what I believe or value. They do control a lot though.

I know I don’t truly believe those things because of my reaction to people who chose not to perform those things. I rarely ever care about someone else’s home anymore. I am not stressed by others messes and chaos. I only see someone who knows what is more important to them. Often it is spending time with people we care about (including ourselves I hope) or doing the things we have to do to survive. I see beauty in people being wholly authentic to who they are, especially when it defies gender norms. Yet, I have been unable to have compassion for myself in those areas.

Seeing how mean the words in my head were would make anyone assume (especially me) that they were coming from trauma and not look further. In the strictest since it is accurate because my messages of what love is are rooted in trauma. It just isn’t that simple though. Messages of fear got mixed up with messages of love for me. “If you love me you will try to conform”, “If you love me you will keep things perfect”, and “If you love me you will revolve around me”, became the definition of love in my subconscious personal script.

When home is your daily battleground, and only refuge from a world grown to exhausting to exist in, the messages get stronger here. When it is only me here there is no one to ‘let down’. There is no one to be embarrassed or ashamed of my appearance. No one except me. When I live with someone they get tangled up in it even when I try so hard not to let that happen. I hope that seeing how these things are tangled up in my messages of how I am supposed to show love to people (Thank goodness I can receive love in other ways) allows me to begin the process of deconstructing them.

I deserve to show myself love in ways that are not so judgemental of myself. I have hope, and maybe a bit of faith, that I can do this work. That I can learn to be kinder to myself. I also know that doing this work won’t just benefit me, it will benefit those around me as well. I can learn to be a better friend, a better partner, and a better self.

The primary wound

I believe that every person has a primary wound. This is usually the deepest one. This is also the place our internal stories always draw from. It is a core belief that we maintain about ourselves and that we have to fight hardest to even attempt to be healthy. For people who grew up healthy and happy this primary wound may not be a huge impact on their lives. For others it is the thing that controls everything they do, even if they are not aware of it.

I know what mine is. Mine is that I will never be enough to be loved. It has a close tie of I am too much of the wrong things to be loved. The interesting part is that I know I have been loved. Just not all of me. Never in the way I have needed to heal this wound. Right now, it doesn’t feel like this is a thing I will ever completely heal. It is certainly a thing that no one else can heal for me.

Things have come up recently that play into this old pain. There are stories I am attaching to things that have happened that this is coloring. I can see, for the first time, how this old scar is impacting how I perceive what is happening in my life.

I know that this is a sign of growth. I know my ability to perceive how this belief is impacting things means I am healing. Seeing this means that I am going to have to confront it directly. If I don’t I will be stealing any hope of future happiness and growth. I will be guaranteeing a festering resentment for the future. I can’t let myself do that.

That said, I am scared. I am so scared that I am going to deal with this, only to be rejected again. I am scared of reopening this place of my deepest vulnerability only to have myself be hurt once more. This fear doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else. It is mine, it always will be mine.

Rogue and Stan Lee’s death

Stan Lee died today. He was 95 and had a good life. I can’t stop randomly crying. I didn’t know him, obviously. I am not even a huge comic book fan. Although, I adore comic book movies. So, you may be wondering why this has hit me so hard.

I am heartbroken because he created the fist character that I ever connected with. Rogue is still my favorite X-Men character. I remember understanding the pain of touching people and hurting them. Of desperately wanting connection but feeling like you could only hurt them, or be hurt by them. When Rogue touched someone she took a part of their energy. For mutants that meant their powers. It also meant some of their personality. She literally carried their pain as part of her own.

When Rogue was first introduced she was Magneto’s girlfriend. He was controlling and manipulative. I know what that can do to a person. She ended up absorbing Captain Marvel’s powers and some of who she was. It changed Rogue as she saw that it doesn’t always have to be pain and being made to be afraid of yourself.

I am grossly over simplifying a very complex character. That is the point, the reason why Stan Lee’s existence mattered to me. He made complex characters. He fought against racism and bigotry. He used stories to inspire generations. He made me see myself in a character for the first time. To be completely vulnerable, Rogue is still the only character that I see myself in.

Hypno #14 unbinding

I started floating in a vast blackness. It wasn’t frightening or anything. When I lit the wand in my hand the vastness became more gray but didn’t really change much. I was perplexed because usually I go to a place when asked to find a place but this time I just couldn’t reach it. Every time I tried to reach out something constricted the top of my head. Like a beanie that kept shrinking the more I tried to remove it. When it became too uncomfortable to tolerate I found my feet and planted them in the ‘ground’. This helped the tightness loosen and made it easier to be.

Examining this I was able to figure out that it was something I created because I didn’t want to see something. There was something I was cutting myself off from. I could sense the fear and pain that went into making this thing. I could also tell that when I found my way through it I would have access to whatever it was that I was hiding from.

Eventually, I found myself sitting in my old apartment in Longview. It was the day of the robbery. The day my swords were stolen. The day I lost my faith. The bindings slid down around my heart painfully as I witnessed myself cutting myself off from all the energy and people around me. It was the day I decided to put aside my empathy, my magic, and my belief. I wanted to weep as I watched myself perform one last act of magic. I found myself away from all things connected to faith. I watched the walls come down and cut me off from all the energy outside myself. All the rage and pain stored in my broken heart and spirit went into that binding. That was a lot of power.

Once I saw all of this I was able to reach for my atheme and I began to cut the bindings from myself. I could feel them falling away and I could feel myself opening up once more. I took this poor broken creature’s face into my hands and saw the beauty in her tears. I kissed her forehead and forgave her for doing this thing. I told her I understood her grief and rage. I told her that it was ok that she did this and that we learned the things we needed in order to grow again. It was ok to protect herself from a world that had grown too heavy for her to tolerate.

We made our way to a small glade in a small wood next to a well that I knew was Brighed’s. I could feel Her presence again. I had forgotten how accepting, loving, and warm it felt. I was welcomed. I dipped my hands into Her well and I felt the pain drain from me. It wasn’t just physical, or spiritual, it was encompassing and complete. I was purged of all the pain I had trapped inside me with that binding.

We stepped back and checked our old apartment for anything that we may have left but there was nothing. It was all bound up inside her. Once that was compete we went back to the well and I took her hands in mine and we placed them in the well. I could feel it taking her pain and mine. I could feel the waters draining it and making it clean again. I touched my dripping finger to her forehead and lips. It was a blessing and a release. I didn’t need to hold onto that pain anymore. I didn’t need to hold onto the fear. I was free.

I took a long time soaking up this feeling of divinity. I took it inside my cells. I felt my body tingling and alive. I became aware of the world around me in a way I had forgotten. There used to be so much more depth and texture to how I felt the world around me. I could feel it again. I could feel the bright spot of someone’s pain near by. I could feel the dull shallow awareness of most of the people outside. I could feel the bright flickering flames of my heart people calling to me. I could taste the weariness of the world around me like ashess and sadness. It took me a long time to remember how to buffer myself against all the information coming in. I had to remember that while I needed to accept my role as a healer in this world that I cannot health the world, nor am I responsible for it. Something that woman from so long ago couldn’t understand.

Once the onslaught had lessened I was able to look at the connection and the years between her and me. I could see her long cycle in earth. She remained trapped in the mundane existence of just surviving for a very long time. I could see when she moved into air, the time when her mind began to open up and learn again. I could see the time of fire sparked by her mom’s sudden death and the pain and illness that followed. I could see the time of water, so recent and still so painful. I could also see that coming is the time of spirit.

I understood that I am divine and that I have to treat myself that way. To feed myself with love. To treat myself with Grace. Taking care of all aspects of myself and denying none. Each day I will begin with my feet in the ground, in the afternoon the wind will fill my sails, in the evening fire will light my way, and before bed I need to drop the pain of the day in the well to be transmuted. I will light the white candle of spirit. I will use the chalice again. I will allow myself to connect with the 8th chakra. For, “I am Hers and I am my own.”

Hypno #13 Rebirth

I was on my beach. There was a storm quietly raging around me. The skies we’re a dark heavy gray. The wind was whipping the waves into a frenzy. Rain was falling in sheets around me. I seemed to be in a bubble that the storm could not touch. While this place felt familiar, it was also strange and alien. Usually when I come here it is sunny and warm. I also couldn’t perceive the bright lady at all. I knew she was with me but I couldn’t locate her no matter how hard I tried. When I invited a helper or guide a woman formed from the sand beside the driftwood where I was sitting. She wouldn’t speak to me, she was obviously waiting. I suddenly had the feeling that this is not where I was supposed to be. I stood and turned knowing I needed to find the doors in a forest I could not see that was behind me. I could see the sea grass framing the path entrance. Beyond those waiving clumps was only darkness but I knew what I needed to find there.

I attempted to move and found myself stuck. There was a heaviness rooting me in place. My legs and arms had become stone. I knew I needed to get through the driftwood log that I had been sitting on but I had no idea how when I had become an anchored statue filled with this heavy gray brown heaviness. I was suddenly trapped in this place I had always gone to feel safe.

The woman of sand started to flow over and under the log; she did this in a manner that some how felt like through. I looked at her more carefully. She was an earth creature pounded and pummeled by the water into an entirely new form. She was rocks and the discarded homes of living creatures that had been remade in an utterly new way. She flowed now. I understood that I had to flow too.

How can I flow when I am made of stone? The waves and rain couldn’t touch me. I wouldn’t be remade like she was. Yet, I couldn’t stay as I was either. The sand woman looked back and me and poured over and through the driftwood again. Back and forth she moved for the rest of my time on this beach. She never spoke, not even looked at me again.

I needed to figure out how to get over this log and find the path to the doors. The need filled me up even to the point of near panic. I turned inward to discover what had trapped me here. There was no obvious source but I did find a crying woman. She was lodged in my chest and throat, curled into a ball with her arms around her legs and her head upon her knees. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get her to acknowledge my presence. She was trapped in her own world of grief and loss. Figuring that out let me see that what was keeping me stuck here was the fear of loss. Fear rooted me here and made safety a trap. I knew all I had to do was find my way past this one barrier. The driftwood taunted me. The sand woman continued her pacing. I screamed with frustration.

The woman inside caught my attention once more as my scream rolled around her. I had to deal with her first. I couldn’t ask her to do anything, she couldn’t see or hear me. I couldn’t move for she was anchored firmly in my body. I couldn’t cut her out without also killing myself. The answer was to wrap her in light. I drew energy from the ground below me and slowly wrapped her in it’s gossamer cocoon. Once completed I couldn’t hear her sobbing though I knew it continued but I also was now protected from the onslaught of her grief. The sand woman paced on.

I needed to leave the crying woman here. I needed to get through this barrier to my path. There was a catch, a hiccup, in my thoughts. Was this obstacle even real? In a flash I understood it all. This obstacle was of my own making. I was rooted here out of the fear if loosing what little safety I knew. I understood that I had to step out of my body and leave it here with it’s crying woman wrapped in a cacoon of light. I had to leave all of it to be reborn and start the next evaloution of my life. I freed my right hand and found it passed through the log. I then began the long arduous task of pulling my self from this body. I don’t have words for how much effort it took to separate my self from this body. Eventually, I did succeed and passed through the driftwood to the sea grass that marked my path.

Stepping forward into a place that was and was not. It was an unthreatening darkness. It was the liminal space between. I discovered I was softly glowing. This pale white light was mesmerizing and softly powerful.

Reaching out I found myself carried to the giant wooden double doors. I knew that they existed in the back of my head between my crown chakra and my third eye. I knew they were elaborately carved with my oak tree. I paused before opening the doors to what I knew would be my new life and body. I knew that when I went through I would never again visit my beach this way. I would have to stop judging my present by who I used to be and embrace the future without being rooted in my trauma. I felt so unsteady.

I searched around me for something to help and picked up a wooden staff. It was almost a walking stick but much taller. This would allow me to steady myself going forward. I knew that holly, ivy, and ash would be needed as well but they wouldn’t reveal themselves yet. A deep breath and I pushed the doors open.

They were immensely heavy yet I did not register the effort I know it took to part them. Instead I found myself stepping into the light, into the bright lady, into myself. White light played through and around me while a soft aqua light beckoned me forward to a lake that lay just a bit father down the path.

I walked into an through the lake letting the waters close over me. A cleansing and a benediction. I luxuriated in the warmth of the waters caress as I continued to the other side, staff in hand. I stood and watched the water dripping from me when I saw a sneaky tendril from the beach trying to hold onto me. I severed it with a swipe of my staff and felt the white light that is in and around me brighten and grow warmer in response. I looked up to see the aqua light leading me forward into my new existence.

In a blink I knew I needed to light a white candle in honor of this rebirth. I know I need to check in with myself and do a tarot reading now that I have left the old behind. I also know that I will know what I need to do more like this, these quick flashes of knowledge, going forward. The holly, ivy, and ash, will revel themselves in time. Right now is a time of just learning how to be this new me and that seems like a great adventure.

Hypno #12 the wand

I found myself sitting on a sun drenched bank of a lazy stream. There are trees nearby but their shade is not interrupting the pure white golden sunlight. The water flowed by in a lazy meandering way. The ripples making the light dance with almost painful intensity. It was so easy to be peaceful and still here. I let myself fill up with the light and the strength.

Eventually I invited anyone who needed to join me to do so. I felt her restless energy long before I saw her. Her presence was one of constant moving. She was all action and hard edges. When she slid fully into my view I was surprised to see that this was the 16 year old version of me. She was so beautiful even in her impatience. Part of me wished I had been able to see myself more clearly back then.

I invited her to sit but she was far too agitated. She did agree to wade into the river with me. The water slowly flowing around us seemed to lessen her need to move. I slowly inspected her with my energy and intuition. I could feel her need to DO. That she had to keep pushing forward. Her energy was shap and almost spikey. Like broken glass had paused while exploding and decided to protect her. Ever so gently I eased past the sharp endges to see what I could sense beneath. There was a lot there. So much pain and rage. Fear that was nearly consuming. I tried to get a sense of how her energy flowed and what I found confused me deeply. There was no flow. It was pieces of her that would switch on and off as needed. This disconnected energy nearly confunded me, it was so hard to resist making it move. How could I understand this strange indipendent collection? I finally accepted that I could not understand how it worked even as I accepted that it did. My awareness slowly slipped around and I noticed this hardness between her shoulder blades. This piece of armor I understood all too well.

I asked if anyone else wanted to join us and the bright lady was there, as she always is these days. It is interesting because the more I sense the bright lady in my daily life the less tangible she appears in this world. Tangible or not she was very much present, teen me was aware of her as well and seemed to brighten a bit in response. We decided to walk along the path through the woods. This path behaved oddly though. Rather than seeming to go to a place. Or even following the path of least resistance. It took me a bit to puzzle out what was happening. The path was avoiding the shadows. It was following the sunlight. This is when I realized that we were on her path.

We wandered along this strange path for a bit until we saw a gate off in the distance. We would have to leave the sunny path and walk into the shadows where no path was discernable. The girl stopped. She was clearly frightened. The bright lady glowed reassuringly. I stood and pondered the situation. She was obviously not going to leave this bright place. Even with us to help her. She needed something she could hold onto. Slipping my hand into my pocket I felt about until I found an object that felt right. Pulling my hand out I presented her with a clear quartz crystal. It twinkled in the sunlight but it didn’t seem to be enough. The bright lady nudged me and there just off the path was a perfect piece of oak branch. I took it and affixed the crystal. As I worked I gave it some of the sunlight I had stored up at the river. This should help. She held it up into the shadows and I watched awe creep across her face as she realized it would light her way.

We arrived at a wrought iron gate. We should have been able to see through the bars but it just wouldn’t take shape. Even the bright lady was unsettled by this. We should have been able to tell what we we’re heading towards. Our discomfort was nothing compared to hers though. She trembled and seemed rooted into the ground. I gently reminded her that we were here and we would not leave her until she was ready. Something stubborn and reckless flashed through her eyes before she shoved her way in.

In a lifetime of strange experiences I had never imagined something like this. Things were shrouded in this strange gray not light. If that wasn’t uncomfortable enough nothing here seemed finished. It was like trying to half form the memory of a shape that is some how associated with the sound of a not color. Sounds would almost form. This was not a place that anyone would ever want to be. It almost feels wrong to try to give this place words. Words are things that are formed and complete. Everything here rebelled at using anything complete to define it.

I let her know that she should take the lead. This was obviously her place and I was an observer here. She walked deep into the heart of this strange not place. There was an alcove with a ledge. She curled up in this spot and she was quite at home. The bright lady and I were very unsettled. This was not ok. This is not a good place for her to be. I knew that she needed to plant that wand. Right now, she was not ready to come out of this alcove. I stepped closer and tried to look at it. It just kept shifting under my gaze. I felt the bright lady’s amusement. I sighed and closed my eyes. Feeling my way around this place it started to make more sense. This alcove is the same energy as the hard place between her shoulders. This was her refuge in a sea of things she was both terrified of and totally unable to understand. The problem was that her place of protection didn’t allow for any growth. Nothing could live in this muddy soup.

Slowly she unwound and I was able to tell her she needed to clear a space near the alcove. As she knelt leaves, evergreen needles and other forest debris. She cleared a space. Now we could see the earth. One element was exposed. She dug into the earth with her hands. She dug until water began to seep up. The breeze played with we hair as she looked up. She couldn’t find the fire. I smiled, the bright lady laughed. “you are the fire”. She placed the wand in the hole she had made and she began to feed it. All of the hot firey feelings that she kept burried beneath the jaggedness. The frustration, the fear, the pain. As she did this the wand grew and changed. Suddenly we were with a fully mature oak in a clearing. There were paths that lead away. Those paths still ended with a vague fogginess but it was not as sinister as when we first arrived. Finally, with prompting, she fed the earth her shame. Now, there was light. The shell had melted, the alcove was erased. I blinked as I looked around. When I looked back at her I saw her wings had appeared. Black and glossy they were magnificent. She left her shame and found her empowerment. I watched with delight as she stretched and tested them. It was only when she inquired as to why my wings were not the same as hers that I noticed mine had changed again. They were a soft grey color instead of the black I was used to. I smiled and let her know they would change many times depending on what she needed.

We prepared to leave this place but the work was not quite done yet. She needed a way to come back here. A way to be reminded that she could carry her own light in the darkness. I looked up and there on the branch was the crystal I had given her before. She plucked it from the tree and we knew that this would be her key to this place, the place of letting go. We walked through the gate and she locked it with a smile. Eager to return to the river now.

The path had also changed. It seemed to sense her happy impatience and it brought us back to the lazy sun warmed river bend. We sat on a rock and let our feet and wings trail in the water. Here she could really see the 4 elements at work. I reminded her that there are 5 elements. She was sad that she could not see the fifth. The bright lady nudged me with amusement and I reached up and gently moved a branch so that she sat in shadow. In this place of filling up she could finally see, in that little patch of shadow that she was truly glowing. She could see spirit manifest in her own energy. I chuckled both amused and annoyed at how literal the bright lady was being right now. I still heard her messages though.

You can’t let go without filling up again. You can’t just be, or just do, it takes both to stay connected. You can’t hide or run from the things that scare you. You also don’t have to have them alone. It is also true that we need shadows sometimes in order to see the light we carry with us. It was so simple, true, and beautiful, that I wept with joy. I could see how her energy had changed. It wasn’t so sharp and jagged anymore. She still was not wholly connected but no longer was everything happening in isolation. There was so much energy bound up in her that it crackled pleasantly along her skin. She was magnificent.

Before I left this place it was decided that I could use the key, but it would remain hers for a while. We hugged. The kind of hug where your spirit both soars and relaxes. When you truly know everything will be okay in the end. We smiled and I took her hand. She became a part of me once more. And I was a part of her now too.

Easy to leave

I said something to a partner the other day, “I make it easy for people to leave me.” It keeps coming back and flashing into my awareness at random moments. There is something here I know I need to tease out. I guess I am hoping that writing will bring it out.

In some ways that statement is true. I do make it easy to leave. I don’t want people to stay with me because they feel they must. I have felt that too many times. I don’t want people to stay for fear of hurting me. I don’t want anyone to stay for any reason other than they chose to. I want my loves to choose me every time they see me. I refuse to be an obligation or burden.

I guess that is a lot to ask from someone. It takes faith to make that choice again and again. You have to believe we can be better on the other side of the storm. You have to have faith that we can fall in love again and again. It also takes trust to make that choice. You have to trust that the other person knows that what you say and do is real. They have to know that you really are with them. Even when things seem dark and you are lost. You have to trust their ability to find a way through. Maybe it takes some optimisim too. You have to believe that both of you are in it together and won’t give up or stop working on it.

I am finally starting to see that loving someone like this is a lot. It takes a lot of work and energy to make a choice. To do it on an ongoing basis? Well, even a drop of water can cut through stone over enough time. Maybe I am more optimistic than I would like to think because I believe that this kind of love is possible. Maybe I am a romantic at heart. I don’t really know, but I know I just can’t give up this belief.

I do make it easy for people to leave. It goes against the core of my being to be holding someone against their will. It has not been an easy journey to get here. I have made far too many mistakes along the way. It is also why I have developed this ideal. I have seen the ways that love can be twisted when someone needs to leave and can’t. I have seen the ways it turns toxic. I won’t participate in that anymore.

Experience tells me that this means that I will get hurt more often. I just can’t accept the alternative. What I can accept is that I can also be hard to love at times. I have a long list of issues. My mental and physical issues mean that I am rarely anything approaching stable. There is a lot to manage. I work hard to keep my impact as low as I can. To be candid, that hasn’t been the most successful of endeavors. I have not yet found the key to keeping all areas of my life stable at the same time. I refuse to give up though. I just know that it can be hard for people to have to constantly try to keep balance with my shifts.

I have to have hope that I will figure it out one day. But for now, yeah, I guess I do make it easy to leave. At the same time, I never have to doubt the people who are in my life. Every time the brain squids try to make me believe I have reason to doubt I can use that knowledge to combat the darkness. So, yeah, I guess I do make it easy to leave.