Whew. Okay so several of things have happened in the past couple of weeks that make me shake my head rather frequently. Among them how anyone could be so damn stupid as to think that just because someone is queer or just starting out on their path to become a damn awesome medic.... that it's okay to bash them. Eesh. Childish brats. However I'm not focusing on that. I'm focusing on the woman who is SqueakyB. She's friggin awesome. Someone who inspires me quite often.
"May 16-18 (next weekend), a 72-hour stream with 24 gamers playing for 3-hour blocks of time, having game giveaways and whatnot.
All proceeds go to TBDAlliance.org, and the site we're using (hitbox) is actually letting us have 100% of the revenue from all ads shown on stream that weekend.
The channel where we're streaming is at http://hitbox.tv/wolfpackgaming.
People don't have to donate money directly to contribute...they can even just open the stream and leave it open all weekend to help us gain viewer hours, which go toward more donations from hitbox (10,000 viewer hours = 10Euros, so we'd either need a consistent 200 viewers the entire weekend, or 3500 people watching for one hour each day of the stream...so numbers matter).
The main point of the stream is awareness, though the charity portion is nice because it shows that we're trying to actually DO something about it."
Squeaky is one of a few people, that number having grown recently, of folks who I know that have Lyme's or Rocky Mountain. What are these? Nasty bugger of a disease that's carried by ticks. I don't think I've ever hit hard enough on having yourself protected against ticks with most of my friends, but you can bet I'm going to start doing so.
Among other news is I'm trying to decide what would work best for military vet support donations. I'm sure you're all familiar with R.E.D. Fridays (Remember Everyone Deployed). For a while now, I've been trying to figure out how I can help a personally adored group, The Battle Buddy Foundation.
Now, in case you're new to my blog, I've experienced the satisfaction and true unconditional love that an animal can give you. And in their time (I think they are just now hitting either their first or second full year) they've already got results, and so far it's 100%. There are in the works, four things that will have codes on them in the Etsy store.
One for TBBF and one for TBDAlliance. By September (I'm doing my stuff by hand here folks, I don't things on machines) I'll be able to start donating to the two. It'd only once a month donations, and some months may not even have anything to donate, but it's the best at moment that I can do. OH! And ask you to tune into stuff above for Squeaky. Cuz she's awesome
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Just another phase
So here recently I've not done much blogging here or even working on my personal journal. Is it because I'm not managing my time well? No not really. I have a lot of knitting and crocheting that I'm working on and in-between working on blogging articles for Blue Collar Prepping I'm also trying to write three different stories that I've no clue if I'll even ever publish.
I have a queen sized afghan that I haven't even been able to start on yet. I have expanded my work area to cover much of the living room much to the fiance's disliking. Sorry dear.
I haven't even finished his and mine's afghan yet. Or another friend of mine's.... :-/
Oh and the headaches.... eh Gods the headaches. I've been damn good at avoiding the foods that give them to me due to allergies. Here this path month though, I've been having headaches out of nowhere. Why? I don't know. I'm hydrated. I'm doing my daily moments of pause time. I'm fed (and we do well for people who try to only buy what we're going to eat over the course of a few days and stuff that's on sale). The teeth are managing to not get any worse (I'm still kicking myself in the ass for letting myself get out of the habit and then buying the bullshit that toothpaste and toothbrush were a luxury for almost three years). But... headaches...
I haven't been able to pin it down. They're 9 out of ten, in one of two places. Left temple and back over the ear; behind the forehead reaching down behind the right eye. Then there's the odd one of my right check bone and back into mostly the skull bone it feels like hurting. That one usually only crops when one of my friends is doing something, thinking about doing something stupid or there's bad weather in several parts of the country. (Damn being a witch sometimes.)
The not journaling bothers me slightly as the last time I went a few months without journaling, I hit some major walls and it took a while to get them broken back through. It could very well mean I've plateaued for the time being. Though having been here in California has been a bit stifling. Being afraid to even go half a mile to the post office is... embarrassing. This is me we're talking about. I used to silence motherfuckers with a glare.
Now...
I guess I shouldn't be to hard on myself. I have made some great progress. Four times out of ten now, I can handle constructive criticisms from the partner without getting pissed off. The other six times we're working on it. I have figured out a couple different ways to help myself keep getting work done even on days where I have zero motivation. I have a just big enough library that if my brain needs a bone to chew on, I'm good for a few weeks.
Oh yeah that reading thing.... turns out the main reason why I think I'm having trouble being able to watch movies and read books like I used to is become I lose my sense of awareness of what's going on around me. It comprises my security. I can't sacrifice two-three hours of my time to watch some stupid film. I kinda hate movies these days. Even Star Wars just isn't what it once was for me. (Yeah, I was a geek girl long before I was a gun bunny, prepper etc.) I like it...but I don't enjoy it like I used to.
There's a lot of that I used to enjoy but just don't seem to able to now. Being able to reclaim reading is a step in the right direction and even then I'm only reading a book once or twice a month. Used to be 6 or 7.
Just another phrase they say....
I have a queen sized afghan that I haven't even been able to start on yet. I have expanded my work area to cover much of the living room much to the fiance's disliking. Sorry dear.
I haven't even finished his and mine's afghan yet. Or another friend of mine's.... :-/
Oh and the headaches.... eh Gods the headaches. I've been damn good at avoiding the foods that give them to me due to allergies. Here this path month though, I've been having headaches out of nowhere. Why? I don't know. I'm hydrated. I'm doing my daily moments of pause time. I'm fed (and we do well for people who try to only buy what we're going to eat over the course of a few days and stuff that's on sale). The teeth are managing to not get any worse (I'm still kicking myself in the ass for letting myself get out of the habit and then buying the bullshit that toothpaste and toothbrush were a luxury for almost three years). But... headaches...
I haven't been able to pin it down. They're 9 out of ten, in one of two places. Left temple and back over the ear; behind the forehead reaching down behind the right eye. Then there's the odd one of my right check bone and back into mostly the skull bone it feels like hurting. That one usually only crops when one of my friends is doing something, thinking about doing something stupid or there's bad weather in several parts of the country. (Damn being a witch sometimes.)
The not journaling bothers me slightly as the last time I went a few months without journaling, I hit some major walls and it took a while to get them broken back through. It could very well mean I've plateaued for the time being. Though having been here in California has been a bit stifling. Being afraid to even go half a mile to the post office is... embarrassing. This is me we're talking about. I used to silence motherfuckers with a glare.
Now...
I guess I shouldn't be to hard on myself. I have made some great progress. Four times out of ten now, I can handle constructive criticisms from the partner without getting pissed off. The other six times we're working on it. I have figured out a couple different ways to help myself keep getting work done even on days where I have zero motivation. I have a just big enough library that if my brain needs a bone to chew on, I'm good for a few weeks.
Oh yeah that reading thing.... turns out the main reason why I think I'm having trouble being able to watch movies and read books like I used to is become I lose my sense of awareness of what's going on around me. It comprises my security. I can't sacrifice two-three hours of my time to watch some stupid film. I kinda hate movies these days. Even Star Wars just isn't what it once was for me. (Yeah, I was a geek girl long before I was a gun bunny, prepper etc.) I like it...but I don't enjoy it like I used to.
There's a lot of that I used to enjoy but just don't seem to able to now. Being able to reclaim reading is a step in the right direction and even then I'm only reading a book once or twice a month. Used to be 6 or 7.
Just another phrase they say....
Monday, April 21, 2014
Slow death of Empathy.
Or I guess I should say, stopping caring about shallow ass humans that have zero clue on how to function as an individual.
This past weekend I have found out that I trigger a little bit, whenever the abortion issue comes up. Now hold on, hear me out. This boils down to two factors it seems.
One of them is the attitude of most of the idiots that are on either "side" of abortion. They are both sneering, sniveling, assholes and I loathe them.
Pro-lifers...yeah... those worthless idiots seem to think it's okay to tell a raped woman like me that I don't have any right to do what I feel is necessary with my body. Look, I'll be honest, if I had become pregnant and caught it before the end of the third month, I'd have had an abortion. After that, adopted with a family outside of the state as far away as possible as the state I was in.... was one of the jackass states where rapists have child visitation rights, regardless of conviction. (yeah, I gagged too.)
Now let me make something clear... it takes a strong woman to raise such a child. That's not me. And after BEING STRIPPED OF HAVING A CHOICE IN THE MATTER OF BECOMING PREGNANT THESE ASSHATS THINK THEY DO THE SAME by telling me that I have NO CHOICE.
Yeah, no actually you don't get to do that. Fuckers like them are no better than my rapists.
Then you have the fucktarded pro-choicers. Most of whom are of the ilk that claim it's the victims fault. I'm pretty certain you see and guess where that usually goes. It usually doesn't end well and I'm pretty sure I've left several of those pathetic ass snowflake progs crying at their computer screens.
The other part is the fact that it reminds of what I went through. You know you're getting better when you don't break down crying every 30 minutes on a day when you've remembered. Just every hour or so.
Which leads me back to the title. I used to be terrified of hurting people. These days.... not so much. It feels very much like a part of my humanity died in their hands. These days... I have no problem with hurting someone if they are a threat to me or people I care about. And it really seems that whatever compassion I have left, is reserved for the folks who've earned it. Now maybe I'm being too cynical... I do let people earn the privilege of being friends with me and close friends in many cases. Some of my friends I've only recently worked up the courage to start talking too, but still would give them whatever they needed. I just like them that much.
I tend to hold back from people I used to spend every day with. I couldn't even go to one of my friends wedding...because one of them was going to be there. (I know keep giving vague hints, you'll have to bear with it.)
Then comes that time of the month. Since about the turn of the year, it has teamed up with my PTSD it seems. Which means I can't get any work done most of the time. I literally have to force myself to do something. Makes me miss my video games. I could sit down and lose myself and pass the day without having to engage with anyone on any topic and be okay at the end of the day.
So what happens now?
Good question.
I'll let you know when I figure it out.
This past weekend I have found out that I trigger a little bit, whenever the abortion issue comes up. Now hold on, hear me out. This boils down to two factors it seems.
One of them is the attitude of most of the idiots that are on either "side" of abortion. They are both sneering, sniveling, assholes and I loathe them.
Pro-lifers...yeah... those worthless idiots seem to think it's okay to tell a raped woman like me that I don't have any right to do what I feel is necessary with my body. Look, I'll be honest, if I had become pregnant and caught it before the end of the third month, I'd have had an abortion. After that, adopted with a family outside of the state as far away as possible as the state I was in.... was one of the jackass states where rapists have child visitation rights, regardless of conviction. (yeah, I gagged too.)
Now let me make something clear... it takes a strong woman to raise such a child. That's not me. And after BEING STRIPPED OF HAVING A CHOICE IN THE MATTER OF BECOMING PREGNANT THESE ASSHATS THINK THEY DO THE SAME by telling me that I have NO CHOICE.
Yeah, no actually you don't get to do that. Fuckers like them are no better than my rapists.
Then you have the fucktarded pro-choicers. Most of whom are of the ilk that claim it's the victims fault. I'm pretty certain you see and guess where that usually goes. It usually doesn't end well and I'm pretty sure I've left several of those pathetic ass snowflake progs crying at their computer screens.
The other part is the fact that it reminds of what I went through. You know you're getting better when you don't break down crying every 30 minutes on a day when you've remembered. Just every hour or so.
Which leads me back to the title. I used to be terrified of hurting people. These days.... not so much. It feels very much like a part of my humanity died in their hands. These days... I have no problem with hurting someone if they are a threat to me or people I care about. And it really seems that whatever compassion I have left, is reserved for the folks who've earned it. Now maybe I'm being too cynical... I do let people earn the privilege of being friends with me and close friends in many cases. Some of my friends I've only recently worked up the courage to start talking too, but still would give them whatever they needed. I just like them that much.
I tend to hold back from people I used to spend every day with. I couldn't even go to one of my friends wedding...because one of them was going to be there. (I know keep giving vague hints, you'll have to bear with it.)
Then comes that time of the month. Since about the turn of the year, it has teamed up with my PTSD it seems. Which means I can't get any work done most of the time. I literally have to force myself to do something. Makes me miss my video games. I could sit down and lose myself and pass the day without having to engage with anyone on any topic and be okay at the end of the day.
So what happens now?
Good question.
I'll let you know when I figure it out.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
-Insert title for angtsy post-
Something about the last two-three weeks has been just... off. Borderline makes me wish I had a Harry Potter style wand and that transfiguration spells (read turn someone into an animal) worked. We'd have an influx of newts and dogs in the world right now. Hence why they don't exist. No ONE has perfect patience.
Between menustral depression, a day of PTSD hell again and a lot of small reminders, it's just been... fucking horrible.
For a long time, I wanted to be a writer and a fighter jet pilot or a soldier. Yeap, me. Female top gun. That was what I was going to do. Then I had my last growth spurt and my vision went to absolute shit. So much for being a pilot. Okay, let's what else I can develope an interest in. Soldier stayed on the list while writer bounced around a bit.
I could go on into specifics but they're boring. We'll summarize.
11-12 years of age - depression hit.
16 years of age - several suicide attempts at this point, mental breakdown a month into attending academy for my junior year. Night of September 10th, 2011. Woke up in time to see the second plane. Truthers can kiss my fucking ass. Two events complicate each other and I start round one of therapy and counseling. Anger my HOME was attacked bolstered my resolve to get to where I could serve. I had to serve. It was the one thing that was a constant that I was meant to serve.
18 -20 - Let myself be convinced that I should do college. First fiance. First rape. First miscarriage. Second round of counseling. Took Tae Kwon Do. Confidence, couldn't bring myself to hit my opponents. Tried college again.
20 - Tried again to enlist. The university threatened to kick me out and flunk me in all my classes. Never went back.
Made the choice to visit friends in Chattanooga , broke things off with second fiance. Stayed in Chattanooga without a single fucking plan or clue.
20-26 : Six years of mistakes, miacarriages, fight, abusive relationships, 3 more rapes.
2011: Tried to enlist again. Believed firmly this would be my year. Weight drops despite all advice and attempts. Trend of weight loss continues even after moving back in with parents in early 2012 and meeting the love of my life. Bottomed out at 99 lbs. PSTD fully hits in late fall of 2011. Almost committed suicide. Two friends spend days of time on the phone with me, Mindycat appears thanks to another sister. Depression finally beaten back to the point, I feel like I can breathe. Can't write though. No purpose. Denied a purpose.
2012- 2013: Healed. A lot. Finally was able to join fiance.
2014: Nothing yet besides gearing up for a fight to get ahead enough to get out of California.
And then there's now. A few days ago someone I greatly respect asked what I wanted to do. How the fuck do you tell someone twice your age and experience, find my damn purpose?
Parts of my life, due to my fiance, are wonderful. I wake up to a man who loves me. He makes me stronger. But I still feel purpose-less. Every time, it's been yanked out from under me. Build one for myself? Don't make me laugh.
"But you have the crocheting and knitting."
And? That keeps people warm yes. I'm able to cope with a lot of the anxiety and flashbacks most of the time with it, but it's not enough. So I'm able to write again. This time, it feels organic to me. Like these are truly my ideas. Including what I hope will be a good triology set in post apocalytic times following a female pagan rape-survivor handywoman. (Hey write what you know right?)
But where's the purpose in that? It lets me get things out of my head. I get to deal with pieces of painful memory. But what happens when it's done and I don't need to deal with it anymore? Back at square motherfucking one. Where do you from there?
Yes, I have a commitment ceremony coming up and a family in the future but focusing entirely on the other people in your life can be bad for your health. Trust me on that. I'm still me, only now me in partenership with another.
But where's my purpose? Modeling? There are thousands of models. Hundreds better than me. Gun bunny? The industry likes the ones with the big ass tits hanging out with an be-doke-donk that makes them drool. Yeah, I ain't got those. I do have a tendency of working on trying to look right with that gun my hands. Like I own it, handle better than you can and can own anyone's ass. Aka believable. And taken seriously.
Only I didn't really feel like I was. I was a damn kid.
I turn 29 this July. All that bullshit, and I'm not even truly 3 decades yet. Honestly the amount of pain it causes me at times that I have no discernable purpose, is crippling. That doesn't make sense probably to you. Be glad.
Between menustral depression, a day of PTSD hell again and a lot of small reminders, it's just been... fucking horrible.
For a long time, I wanted to be a writer and a fighter jet pilot or a soldier. Yeap, me. Female top gun. That was what I was going to do. Then I had my last growth spurt and my vision went to absolute shit. So much for being a pilot. Okay, let's what else I can develope an interest in. Soldier stayed on the list while writer bounced around a bit.
I could go on into specifics but they're boring. We'll summarize.
11-12 years of age - depression hit.
16 years of age - several suicide attempts at this point, mental breakdown a month into attending academy for my junior year. Night of September 10th, 2011. Woke up in time to see the second plane. Truthers can kiss my fucking ass. Two events complicate each other and I start round one of therapy and counseling. Anger my HOME was attacked bolstered my resolve to get to where I could serve. I had to serve. It was the one thing that was a constant that I was meant to serve.
18 -20 - Let myself be convinced that I should do college. First fiance. First rape. First miscarriage. Second round of counseling. Took Tae Kwon Do. Confidence, couldn't bring myself to hit my opponents. Tried college again.
20 - Tried again to enlist. The university threatened to kick me out and flunk me in all my classes. Never went back.
Made the choice to visit friends in Chattanooga , broke things off with second fiance. Stayed in Chattanooga without a single fucking plan or clue.
20-26 : Six years of mistakes, miacarriages, fight, abusive relationships, 3 more rapes.
2011: Tried to enlist again. Believed firmly this would be my year. Weight drops despite all advice and attempts. Trend of weight loss continues even after moving back in with parents in early 2012 and meeting the love of my life. Bottomed out at 99 lbs. PSTD fully hits in late fall of 2011. Almost committed suicide. Two friends spend days of time on the phone with me, Mindycat appears thanks to another sister. Depression finally beaten back to the point, I feel like I can breathe. Can't write though. No purpose. Denied a purpose.
2012- 2013: Healed. A lot. Finally was able to join fiance.
2014: Nothing yet besides gearing up for a fight to get ahead enough to get out of California.
And then there's now. A few days ago someone I greatly respect asked what I wanted to do. How the fuck do you tell someone twice your age and experience, find my damn purpose?
Parts of my life, due to my fiance, are wonderful. I wake up to a man who loves me. He makes me stronger. But I still feel purpose-less. Every time, it's been yanked out from under me. Build one for myself? Don't make me laugh.
"But you have the crocheting and knitting."
And? That keeps people warm yes. I'm able to cope with a lot of the anxiety and flashbacks most of the time with it, but it's not enough. So I'm able to write again. This time, it feels organic to me. Like these are truly my ideas. Including what I hope will be a good triology set in post apocalytic times following a female pagan rape-survivor handywoman. (Hey write what you know right?)
But where's the purpose in that? It lets me get things out of my head. I get to deal with pieces of painful memory. But what happens when it's done and I don't need to deal with it anymore? Back at square motherfucking one. Where do you from there?
Yes, I have a commitment ceremony coming up and a family in the future but focusing entirely on the other people in your life can be bad for your health. Trust me on that. I'm still me, only now me in partenership with another.
But where's my purpose? Modeling? There are thousands of models. Hundreds better than me. Gun bunny? The industry likes the ones with the big ass tits hanging out with an be-doke-donk that makes them drool. Yeah, I ain't got those. I do have a tendency of working on trying to look right with that gun my hands. Like I own it, handle better than you can and can own anyone's ass. Aka believable. And taken seriously.
Only I didn't really feel like I was. I was a damn kid.
I turn 29 this July. All that bullshit, and I'm not even truly 3 decades yet. Honestly the amount of pain it causes me at times that I have no discernable purpose, is crippling. That doesn't make sense probably to you. Be glad.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
-Rubs Temples-
It started rather innocently enough. A casual acquaintence messaged me on Facebook asking me to keep her in prayers. I said sure, I'll keep you in my thoughts and add you to my candle.
Her reaction from there went full nuclear retard.
"Don't you know that's Witchcraft? WitchCraft is Satin worship!"
Um... it's spelled Satan. And not, it's not. You are thinking of theist Satanists. I am Witch, not a theist Satanist. The discussion lasted all of fifteen minutes, with her reciting "christian" diatribe at a pace that leads me to believe she remembered I was a Pagan, and had delibreately contacted me to "save my soul".
Cunt, my soul is older than you by a good thousand years. Fuck off.
-More temple rubbing.-
The encounter hurt. A lot. Not because of the attack on my faith as I've gotten waaaaaaay to used to that bullshit. Even death threats, which become silent after I remind it's called the Second Amendment and I DO practice it.
What hurt was the falseness of her request. The ingenuity of her need. (Which reminds me as to why so many who use their magick for others demand payment to ensure the person they are helping really actually wants it. A lesson for another time.)
"Don't you know prayer is only real thing that works?"
.... yeah, my response can be summed up as fuck off you ignorant bitch.
First of all, I am deliberately choosing to place you in my thoughts and telling the universe that I'm throwing a bit of my weight in behind you. That I spending valuable brain time, on your behalf as I go through my day, keeping your name in front of the God(s).
Second, candles aren't cheap asshole. I have one or two that get lit for a few hours every day and that I meditate on, keeping you within the circle of light so that whatever burdens you're carrying may gradually grow lighter and you see all lesson pieces as they appear and you are embrace your growth.
Third, be gracious. If you are aware response to your request for help not being the kind of help you want, keep your fucking mouth shut. At all times. Don't badmouth, don't scorn, don't mock, just keep silent.
I have dozens of people I think on every day, most don't even know it and probably haven't realized I have noticed they are having a rough time. My list is full of people whom I have never met and whom probably barely notice me.
Why meditate on them?
Because I can, and because there are limits to the kind of help I can give to most people. Its a kindness to pray or meditate on someone and take advantage of this makes you a fucktard.
It's also an insult to the time and energy investment that I make. Do me and many other people a huge favor: stop trying to waste, take advantage of or bastardize that investment. When investments have to be taken back, I'm not the one who will suffer. I'll just divy that up among the others. It'll be you, because the Universe has a tendency to expose people like that for what they truly are.
As for me? When that happens, I'll be on the front porch with my best mates, sipping moonshine outta Mason jars, shotguns leaned against the door frame, sitting in the rocking chair and knitting. I wasted time and energy on many a person, took it back in a way and moved on.
That's what happens when you present a false front.
You get left behind.
Her reaction from there went full nuclear retard.
"Don't you know that's Witchcraft? WitchCraft is Satin worship!"
Um... it's spelled Satan. And not, it's not. You are thinking of theist Satanists. I am Witch, not a theist Satanist. The discussion lasted all of fifteen minutes, with her reciting "christian" diatribe at a pace that leads me to believe she remembered I was a Pagan, and had delibreately contacted me to "save my soul".
Cunt, my soul is older than you by a good thousand years. Fuck off.
-More temple rubbing.-
The encounter hurt. A lot. Not because of the attack on my faith as I've gotten waaaaaaay to used to that bullshit. Even death threats, which become silent after I remind it's called the Second Amendment and I DO practice it.
What hurt was the falseness of her request. The ingenuity of her need. (Which reminds me as to why so many who use their magick for others demand payment to ensure the person they are helping really actually wants it. A lesson for another time.)
"Don't you know prayer is only real thing that works?"
.... yeah, my response can be summed up as fuck off you ignorant bitch.
First of all, I am deliberately choosing to place you in my thoughts and telling the universe that I'm throwing a bit of my weight in behind you. That I spending valuable brain time, on your behalf as I go through my day, keeping your name in front of the God(s).
Second, candles aren't cheap asshole. I have one or two that get lit for a few hours every day and that I meditate on, keeping you within the circle of light so that whatever burdens you're carrying may gradually grow lighter and you see all lesson pieces as they appear and you are embrace your growth.
Third, be gracious. If you are aware response to your request for help not being the kind of help you want, keep your fucking mouth shut. At all times. Don't badmouth, don't scorn, don't mock, just keep silent.
I have dozens of people I think on every day, most don't even know it and probably haven't realized I have noticed they are having a rough time. My list is full of people whom I have never met and whom probably barely notice me.
Why meditate on them?
Because I can, and because there are limits to the kind of help I can give to most people. Its a kindness to pray or meditate on someone and take advantage of this makes you a fucktard.
It's also an insult to the time and energy investment that I make. Do me and many other people a huge favor: stop trying to waste, take advantage of or bastardize that investment. When investments have to be taken back, I'm not the one who will suffer. I'll just divy that up among the others. It'll be you, because the Universe has a tendency to expose people like that for what they truly are.
As for me? When that happens, I'll be on the front porch with my best mates, sipping moonshine outta Mason jars, shotguns leaned against the door frame, sitting in the rocking chair and knitting. I wasted time and energy on many a person, took it back in a way and moved on.
That's what happens when you present a false front.
You get left behind.
Friday, February 21, 2014
People are strange.
I seriously find myself at times wondering why it is that I continue to interact with humans. Not too long ago, there were a few casual acquaintances that had found out some of my past experiences. ... Apparently according their "idea of society" I should be a lot more bitter, a femnazi (read femnasty) and a whole bunch of other stuff.
Really? You think just because I'm a rape and abuse survivor that I should be bitter?
*rubs temples*
I am bitter. However I also made the choice to those occurrences direct me into become a stronger woman. Which means not holding on them as best as I can manage. Means not letting someone tell me how I should be reacting to the event as the other person is 8 times out of 10, full of shit.
Yeah, I have some pretty nasty scars and wounds that are taking forever to heal it seems like. I have things happening every day that cause me to pause and seriously break down the thing in question trying to figure what it has to do with anything that involves me.
Is there information in what I'm finding my attention drawn to that is crucial?
Is it of any value?
Does it trigger the eye roll response or do the pieces fit into older lesson puzzles that life has thrown at me?
More often than, I end up shedding what is of no value to me personally and many times passing it on to folks who may indeed find it of value. There've been a lot of people I've had to shed too. Toxic jerks who have an inkling about a few things which leads them to think they're are experts on everything.
Let's face it, you should be learning constantly and having breakthroughs on even tiny things frequently. Toxic people do teach you.... they teach you your limits.
Breakthroughs tend to trigger an interesting response from the Universe.
You end up finding yourself looking up at her as she leans over and bops you gently on the nose.
"Took you long enough goober. Now, brace yourself because it's about to get rough. It's going to hurt but you are going to be a better person for it in the end, because all that bullshit you've allowed yourself to be programmed with is going to be purged. You are going to be better for it, despite it. It's going to be worth it.
I promise."
Really? You think just because I'm a rape and abuse survivor that I should be bitter?
*rubs temples*
I am bitter. However I also made the choice to those occurrences direct me into become a stronger woman. Which means not holding on them as best as I can manage. Means not letting someone tell me how I should be reacting to the event as the other person is 8 times out of 10, full of shit.
Yeah, I have some pretty nasty scars and wounds that are taking forever to heal it seems like. I have things happening every day that cause me to pause and seriously break down the thing in question trying to figure what it has to do with anything that involves me.
Is there information in what I'm finding my attention drawn to that is crucial?
Is it of any value?
Does it trigger the eye roll response or do the pieces fit into older lesson puzzles that life has thrown at me?
More often than, I end up shedding what is of no value to me personally and many times passing it on to folks who may indeed find it of value. There've been a lot of people I've had to shed too. Toxic jerks who have an inkling about a few things which leads them to think they're are experts on everything.
Let's face it, you should be learning constantly and having breakthroughs on even tiny things frequently. Toxic people do teach you.... they teach you your limits.
Breakthroughs tend to trigger an interesting response from the Universe.
You end up finding yourself looking up at her as she leans over and bops you gently on the nose.
"Took you long enough goober. Now, brace yourself because it's about to get rough. It's going to hurt but you are going to be a better person for it in the end, because all that bullshit you've allowed yourself to be programmed with is going to be purged. You are going to be better for it, despite it. It's going to be worth it.
I promise."
Saturday, February 15, 2014
All over the place.
I've been bouncing a lot of ideas around in my head here lately for the next post here, for my new joint project Blue Collar Prepping, for everything I've invested time in.
The entirety of all my creative projects in their volume has surprised me. Up until 20 months ago roughly, my creative abilities had so throughly decayed that I honestly thought I had lost them. I couldn't even write short stupid make no sense stories anymore. I was barely maintaining my crocheting and knitting.
The breakthrough happened late Feb or early March of 2012. My phone had run out of minutes and I was out of contact with everyone for almost a week. Had they all known what I was facing down in terms of inner demons that winter, they have may very well have shownup out of nowhere and I have to say, I wouldn't have had my breakthrough.
Those five-six days in an isolated cabin north of Knox where damn good for me. I was on the other side of the worst bout of depression I had ever had as it had hit, when I finally finished coming to terms with my rapes. That winter I had MindyCat thanks to my sis Rachel.
That last day was the best because I didn't have to fight with myself to get up. Just a warm, reluctant to move MindyCat. Something had finally given and it wasn't me. A few days later I was introduced to the man I love now.
And to quote a prior conversation, the hands were finally taped right. I had someone constant who wanted me to work through my shit with him. As it goes, things are coming back. I have two complete outlines of two stories. I have one story that is called Nuovaria, working title, but that's the name of the town at the center of the story. I have two other stories that I'm building.
Then there's the yarn work. That's been a happy constant, minus when I have my episodes.
One of the things that has always stuck with me in the past few years was two friends who I had managed to have some candid conversations with on some less than rough days.
J, the first one, I had worked with a few times at one of my numerous failed side jobs. J and I were talking about his family (which made for some fascinating stories in of themselves. Like the triplets being born on Halloween of a Blood Full Moon. @_0) Another acquaintance asked him why they had "dumb" phones and no cable/internet/tv. J had grinned a huge grin and said they just weren't important. Him and his wife did what they loved for a living. They loved being guides and teaching people about history. The kind that the fuckers of the politically correct bent are trying to erase from the history books. They worked as guides all year round at a variety of places. They loved it. And they didn't mind having a rather Spartan existence compared to many.
They had their priorities straight.
How did they check their emails?
Its called a library.
"If we followed what society told us was how things should be, we couldn't do what we loved."
The other was L. My sister and a good friend who was always doing her best to be patient with me. Looking back, I kick myself in the ass for not trying harder, but I digress. She always reminded me, that sweat-equatity was always worth more in the end.
Now I don't sweat normally, but the point stuck.
The last point to all of this came from a spirit guide. Who simply said "No job is too small or insigficant, to not be done with passion or beautifully." One of the few times, I have EVER gotten a straight answer from the Fae. :-/
The entirety of all my creative projects in their volume has surprised me. Up until 20 months ago roughly, my creative abilities had so throughly decayed that I honestly thought I had lost them. I couldn't even write short stupid make no sense stories anymore. I was barely maintaining my crocheting and knitting.
The breakthrough happened late Feb or early March of 2012. My phone had run out of minutes and I was out of contact with everyone for almost a week. Had they all known what I was facing down in terms of inner demons that winter, they have may very well have shownup out of nowhere and I have to say, I wouldn't have had my breakthrough.
Those five-six days in an isolated cabin north of Knox where damn good for me. I was on the other side of the worst bout of depression I had ever had as it had hit, when I finally finished coming to terms with my rapes. That winter I had MindyCat thanks to my sis Rachel.
That last day was the best because I didn't have to fight with myself to get up. Just a warm, reluctant to move MindyCat. Something had finally given and it wasn't me. A few days later I was introduced to the man I love now.
And to quote a prior conversation, the hands were finally taped right. I had someone constant who wanted me to work through my shit with him. As it goes, things are coming back. I have two complete outlines of two stories. I have one story that is called Nuovaria, working title, but that's the name of the town at the center of the story. I have two other stories that I'm building.
Then there's the yarn work. That's been a happy constant, minus when I have my episodes.
One of the things that has always stuck with me in the past few years was two friends who I had managed to have some candid conversations with on some less than rough days.
J, the first one, I had worked with a few times at one of my numerous failed side jobs. J and I were talking about his family (which made for some fascinating stories in of themselves. Like the triplets being born on Halloween of a Blood Full Moon. @_0) Another acquaintance asked him why they had "dumb" phones and no cable/internet/tv. J had grinned a huge grin and said they just weren't important. Him and his wife did what they loved for a living. They loved being guides and teaching people about history. The kind that the fuckers of the politically correct bent are trying to erase from the history books. They worked as guides all year round at a variety of places. They loved it. And they didn't mind having a rather Spartan existence compared to many.
They had their priorities straight.
How did they check their emails?
Its called a library.
"If we followed what society told us was how things should be, we couldn't do what we loved."
The other was L. My sister and a good friend who was always doing her best to be patient with me. Looking back, I kick myself in the ass for not trying harder, but I digress. She always reminded me, that sweat-equatity was always worth more in the end.
Now I don't sweat normally, but the point stuck.
The last point to all of this came from a spirit guide. Who simply said "No job is too small or insigficant, to not be done with passion or beautifully." One of the few times, I have EVER gotten a straight answer from the Fae. :-/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)