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Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Forcing myself to write again

It seems to work sometimes.

Brain is at again. The anxiety is what is the loudest right now. Has been the last couple weeks now. The depression and PTSD have been solidly ones now which makes it a bit easier to deal with the anxiety because it's only one thing to lasso and two things to just keep an eye on.

There are times I have to wonder if voicing the anxiety makes it worse because I've given a partial form and other times....

Even if it just into my paper journal the day gets a little bit easier to deal with about half the time. Mostly because I end identifying what's going on and can take the steps to deal with it. The other of the time I can only figure out half of the stuff and then the other half ends being incorporeal for lack of a better term. 

It's definitely time for a hair cut again. I keep messing with it which is not a good thing because I've made part of my scalp sore before from that particular fidget habit.

I also need to stop taking dishonest stock in how I'm feeling when DR offers to pour me a drink. If the anxiety is acting up... I end not putting on the brakes. I really need to stick to my guns of no more hard liquor for me. Plus Hard Cider and wines taste better in the end.

One of the things I think a lot of people who struggle with same and similar issues forget is that it's okay to simplify your self care needs. Take my pixie cut for example. Taking care of your hair can actually be stressful. I have to admit it always puzzles me as to why more females at least don't take the time to figure out a good short cut so that it's low maintenance and your spoons/spell slots can't argue with you legitimately over it. 

Yesterday though even Mind was not having it. I'm not even sure what all I did to calm everything the fuck down, but it worked to the point I didn't end up wanting to stab things.

Sewing helps with that by the way. I get to stab something and MAKE something at the same time. It's a lovely thing really.


Plus there was an awkward moment today when I realized that the anti-glamour I cast in the grenade also covered the glamours we cast on ourselves to blind ourselves to our own faults. That's not so much a reflection on me however as a Big Sister of mine is...going through some shit and it's showing some of the markers from my grenade. 

She stills seems to be learning on to be her own individual just as much as I am. But... I figured out how to be a me without needing a DR to complete me because as people we're already complete (though the process to figure that out will always be a mystery and not a one size fits all journey). The reason we have companions is because we don't like be lonely for long periods of time. (How do you think crazy cat ladies happen?)

It's not that we need a puzzle piece from that person. It's that we find we enjoy them and them being around enhances and enriches our own experiences. So what happens when the you you are gets hurt and you have to forcefully engage your own space in order to deal with it?

Well... a lot of bad juju especially if the other person isn't willing to actually listen and they're being a dick. (Women included).

One of the things that has been aggravating to me recently is that it feels like I've lost my ability to communicate effectively as much as I used to say 8 or 9 years ago. When I started pulling away so that I could deal with shit, it affected my memory in some ways that I'm still figuring out.

And it's really frustrating when I'm trying to talk to DR about something and he keeps interjecting with what he THINKS I'm saying. Not a pleasant fight when it happens. Hence, I'm not finding the right words or expressions to get him to shut up so I can talk. Most of the time I don't need his feedback, I just need him to listen for a bit because there's only so much typing and writing I can do before I need to know someone is hearing me and AFTER I'm done rambling around trying to figure out the thing, whatever that thing is, THEN give me their thoughts.

Oh look, a normal adult thing.... I think? 


I have to admit I probably love the Pixie haircut a little too much. It's easier to deal with and in Phoenix heat... I don't have to worry about it inducing the back of my neck into a heat rash!

However there is a covenant of sorts on the horizon for me. Long hair is gonna make a come back, but there's a nudge to shave the sides and pleat the hair into a complex braid...which is not going to happen as I can't french braid to save my life. Like I understand the concept but I can't get my hands and hair to cooperate like that.

And we're gonna switch gears again because I remembered the other though I had: Conditioning. See, I'm an insomniac and part of the drinking problem is because I start to get bored sometimes...so... you see where that goes and how that's sticky. One of the problems with depression is that you sleep a lot. The more you sleep the more depressed you get and the more depressed you get the more you sleep. Extremely nasty feedback loop and you end up conditioning yourself to always seek sleep when you're depressed.

DR has suggested many times to just come to bed. No. That's why I'm always resistant to that idea of just sleeping when bored. That's a 'Aw HELL NO!' response because I feel into that loop for a couple of years in my early 20's. Ten something years ago. It fucked with everything. EVERYTHING. Hence I'm trying to keep myself within very strict sleeping times and if nothing else a semi-strict 'get up' time period.

Conditioning can happen in other areas too. Like whenever DR is home and we're hanging out, we got into the bad habit of always drinking something alcoholic. Fucking great...another factor. So now whenever he's home, I'm wanting to drink with him because that was our thing.

Yeah, you can see where that needs an over haul. Because then when he goes to bed, BRAIN the cunt that it is starts kinda freaking out because we're aren't going to bed at the same time while MIND knows we don't have to. Mind wins usually. When Mind has been overtaxed or is too tired, Brain wins and I usually spend the next day dealing with a major hangover.

That can be fixed pretty damn easily and I WILL fix it.

Now to figure out how to wrangle the anxiety.

Although next time here at the Wandering Witchling...

Maybe I'll be able to report on something I've been getting unceremoniously hammered with by the Morrighan for months now....


Thursday, May 10, 2018

A Pagan's String Theory

Try not to let that little guy there to the right bother you too much. He just needed some suntime.

This... concept that I'm working that this post has to do occurred to me this morning after modeling the new skirt for my husband. It's pretty rad by the way. 

My mind being the rabbit hole racer that it is took off like a shot on the concept of sewing. Now for those who didn't know it, I've always had an extreme interest in archaeology and experimental archaeology.  The later is what a lot of the living history enthusiasts should actually be classified under in my humble opinion. My mind doing canyon jumps like it does from time to time hit remembered that sewing is most likely one of the oldest home making skills second only to probably leather working.  As in someone had a bunch of skin scraps that they couldn't afford to waste and the first scrap blanket was born.  

The two probably go hand in hand farther back than what we can currently imagine. With waning and waxing ice ages, massive volcanic eruptions that turned day into night for weeks on end, bold migrations into cooler climates that had more food animals but the nights could freeze you..... our ancestors would have needed to craft from whatever they could protective clothing. Weaving most likely didn't start to occur until our ancestors were better able to comprehend fiber and probably followed on the heels of sewing and skin working by only a couple hundred years by my best guess. Before all that was the advances in our tool making allowing us to more efficiently use a dead animal. Sewing and using skins more efficiently was only a natural progression. 

It's estimated that one branch of our genetic lineage, the Denisovan's (first found in Siberia's Denisova Cave) were using sewing needles as far back as 50,000 years ago. The article talking about this amazing find is here at Atlas Obscura

It most likely wasn't until roughly the 14,000's BCE before things like embroidery, crocheting or knitting might have begun to show up in their most earliest forms. Most likely the first embroidered piece of fabric was a mistake. Crochet and knitting were probably due to bored ancient humans trapped in the caves by long periods of foul weather.

Now we're going to put a pin in this train of thought and go back to the paganism for a bit.


Many people when they think sewing, knitting or any of those thread related activities and paganism, will inevitably come up with some very cutesy things utilizing these skills as means to express themselves or express a concept that they find beautiful and that rings true for them in their practice.

Many practicing pagans are exceptionally crafty (in the physical sense).
Many pagans also venerate or even worship the ancestors. 

Ancestor adoration comes in many forms and some major cultures in the world (many of which are in Asia) have been shaped extensively by it.

In terms of genetics, we all share the same ancestors whether some fucktards like to admit it or not.  Everything that binds those ancestors together into who we are is on our skin, under my fingertips as I type, the food we eat daily, the water we drink.

The first crafts or skills to manifest were surely sewing, leather working, tanning and cooking.

What if....we as Pagans in our search to connect with our ancestors on a practical and meaningful level has been in front of us all along?

What if it's not the incense that smells of old trees or a young (in terms of genetic history) translation of the Book of the Dead?

What if it's not the empty seat at the Dumb Feast?

What if it's not been the pictures in old albums and family legends told when feasting with friends?

What if the means to literally be connected with every branch of our genetic ancestry right back to even the first upright great apes has been at our finger tips the entire time?

If we were to take every single pagan and line them up, every one of them would have something that they posses a crafting aptitude for. Within that aptitude is the possibility of connection with our ancestors.

In every baby blanket crocheted or knit, one carries on the tradition of gifts to the new mother to help her even the odds of the new baby making it through a cold night. Every button stitched back, every tear closed, every meal cooked and shared, every dress or pair of pants... we move our hands in the same ways as our ancestors. 

By the sheer practice of these skills, those nameless ones find themselves with a sense of immortality. 

Despite all of our technological advances and our baby steps towards goals like colonizing the Moon and Mars and farther, we still every day take off the one thing that could truly stand out as being the first sign of our humanity: clothing.

We may not have made that favorite t-shirt from the plants fibers with our own hands but every time we put it on, somewhere in the past an ancestor's gleam of inspiration is there as the beginning. 

So my Pagan String theory is this:
It may feel modern, but you've allow yourself the right perspective you can still look over your shoulder and see that person holding up two pieces of skin and the idea in their head forming of how to connect them.
We, in our every day supposed hobbies, connect in the most literal way possible with our ancestors every time we pick up tool and thread and material.




Saturday, May 5, 2018

Generic Title.

Yeah I know, but as it is I'm forcing myself to write. 

Garden:
That blasted jalepeno plant that got frost bit, is on it's fourth picking.  We're going to end up with at least a pint of jalepeno's. We had to get two new tomato plants and finding shade cloth has been a bitch. The rosemary, chives and garlic are doing great.  The green bell pepper has one...ONE... pepper and it's doing a "if this is only one I'm making then damnit it's going to be a good one".

House:
AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!  The longer we're here the more problems (as to be expected) pop up....but these are things that could be fixed if the asshole landlord just gave even an ounce of a damn. The outgoing sewer pipe... is the same pipes that were originally installed when this place first got plumbing. We've got rusted pipes and at least one if not more tree roots grown into it.  There's literally not much I can do besides document everything. That...is annoying.

There's one of the cabinets that's coming off the walls. It used to hold most of the coffee mugs, but with the purchase of another set of heavy duty plastic shelves, most of the pantry got transferred to said shelves and the mugs got moved to where most of the canned goods used to live.

Personal:
Good gods of old, new and to be it's been a rough past few weeks. The depression acted up. The anxiety acted up. I've been wrestling with brain (which is all the shit that is the depression, the anxiety and the PTSD and the emotions). Mind (which is all the logical stuff which includes the witchcraft side, the we have to do a better job of taking care of ourselves and our home side and just the 'not fucking broken' shit) has been ready to beat brain into a pulp.

While I've got my bujo system on my side there's only so much it can do when Brain refuses to fucking cooperate when it comes to eating.

"WE HAVEN'T BEEN PRODUCTIVE ENOUGH TO WARRANT TAKING A BREAK AND EATING."

At which point Mind usually fucking loses and has to fight Brain because I don't need to earn eating a fucking meal. 

Yeah, that's one of the demons I deal with. I know it probably doesn't make sense but that's what that fucking thing has become.

Brain has been getting in the way of finishing projects. Brain has been a little shit when it comes to drinking. Brain is going to get me killed if I don't keep the fucking thing leashed.

I mean seriously, there are times where it seems like I have to exhaust it before I can get anything done.
Other times I have to moved fast and get shit done, so that Brain can't steal that energy.  Yes, I just called my mental problems a vampire entity of sorts. I'm telling you, it's accurate.

Witchcraft:

It's been roughly a month and a half, so I can talk about the fucking nuke/grenade I threw finally. 


  • It was more one of those "BTGOOANATB!  Fuck it, unfuck your damn shit people"
  • "Drop those that are bad for you in ways you can't argue with"
  • Lose the shit that's dragging you down. 
  • Be smart enough to see the opportunities in front of you that will turn you into a better person. 

It's definitely been affecting people and I don't care. I'm a damn witch. Part of job is exposing the rot that people allow to manifest in themselves either by sheer fucking ignorance or denial or they're lying to themselves about not being ready to deal with something. I'm in that third category these days because denying things makes for a more powerful Brain and I'm trying to shrink that bitch.


On top of that, the pantheons are...in motion. They have been for the last year but it's really starting to double down. 

Frankly, the Gods can't do anything for me if I'm not in a position to be able to even accept their help with things. 

Yarn:
Oh gods it's coming up on that time of the year again where big projects have to be place on a table and not left in my lap. Else the AC will get turned down even more. Look, daytime at 84 is perfectly fucking fine. 78 at night. I've threatened the removal of firing pins if it gets turned to anything else. (Except Snu Snu... Then 72 is okay.)

Pets:
One of the doggos is having really bad diarrhea in the mornings. Because DR has gotten up to it on our thankfully tile floor.  So doggos got fed chicken today and tonight they're getting chicken, rice and potatoes. Not sure which one it is but hopefully helps their systems reset.


Fiona as you can see has matured and grown into quite the pretty cat.