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Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
06 January 2019 @ 09:16 am
apparently. I apologise for any blatant misspellings or snaffus you may encounter reading these early posts. At this time, I do not have the spoons to worry about such nonsense--it's a big deal that I'm sitting here typing anything at all, so let's not quibble.

-S
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
15 August 2019 @ 03:04 am
So my mother died.
My mother died, and she did it on purpose. She did it when I was sicker than I've ever been. She did it when I was too sick and too far away to be with her.
My mother died, and left me with this big, gaping hole. This chasm of unresolved mother-daughter shit and guilt and grief. My first and oldest wound.
My mother died, and she left me, and I am so very not okay.
I am so not okay.
I am so, so sad, and the only way I'm ever going to get closure is to give it to myself.
 
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
So this has been an eventful weekend for reasons I am not ready to go into, not the least of which is the maybe diagnosis that I received on Friday. I don't want to make it social media official until I have gotten the results of some follow-up tests, and had some conversations.
Regardless of the official name of the thing, I am currently...in a state. Basically, my nervous system has been so traumatized that it is in Red Alert almost all the time. Possibly the only time that it is not is when I am using a narcotic painkiller. But the pills only offer a short window of effectiveness anymore--and it's spotty effectiveness too boot. I'm just as likely to get sick from the drugs as I am to feel better.
The rest of the time everything hurts. All sensation, all input hurts. I am extremely sensitive to touch; I cannot get fully comfortable most of the time. I'm sensitive to light and can't fully process what's in my visual field, particularly as the day wears on or as my energy flags. I am super sensitive to sound. Sound hurts. Faces hurt.
Fortunately, I am privileged to have a safe place here in my home where I can dim lights, muffle sounds, practice acts of self care and self calming, and to just pass the time. I'm surrounded by people who understand that I am suffering and want to help.

That said, it is rough sharing space with children when you're sick. It is hard to be the best possible parent.
I am doing all of the Jedi mind tricks that I know to help myself float through this time. I am drawing on Reserves of the spirit I haven't tapped for many years. I am rediscovering my intuitive self and my sensitivity to the energy world around me. It is quite remarkable and refreshing. I just don't have a lot of energy to emote about it.

Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android

So even though there are still another nine days? I think before my next MRI and whatever else test, which means two weeks until I have more data, at least I have something specific to look forward to. Before yesterday I believed I was looking down the barrel of the rest of my life in pain and with ever-diminishing abilities. So this is a little blip of Hope.

Realizing of course that fate and chance and Karma are quirky, and what I learned in two weeks might completely change the narrative again.

Still, I am hopeful.

In other news, Livejournal formatting is being a little bitch.
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
15 February 2019 @ 04:49 pm
The worst thing about my journey right now is that the pot is making me anxious. It wasn't like this when I was younger, and fuck, I wish I could just relax. But it's tricky.

Some strains are better than others, but the dispensary is spotty in what it has available at any given moment.

Timing has a lot to do with it, too. I don't love being stoned around other people, although there's something great about that, too. It's the energy--my awareness of other people's psychic shit has been muffled for a long time--fucking YEARS, so it's a lot to take, especially given how tired and weak I am, otherwise.

But I'm handling it. Like, I think I finally found the MUTE switch for anxiety (as in, to let it continue running in the background, but not so that it's drowning everything else out). Just as I did for other emotion demons in their time--Depression. Rage. And so on. So I'm OKAY... still wish I didn't have the distraction, though.

But maybe the distraction of anxiety has it's upside. A sort of blinking yellow CAUTION sign keeping me from wandering off the past--er, path (Freudian slip there?)--as one is wont to do under the shephardry of Mary Jane...  I mean, a little anxiety prevents some disasters... despite what social media will tell you, there are far Worse Things To Be than a nervous parent.

But, like. It's not ideal EITHER.

Just saying. ;)
 
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
10 February 2019 @ 05:25 am

Physical bullshit aside, I feel like I'm going through another adolescence.

To wit: I'm enjoying my newfound independence and selfishness (in the hours my children are at school and therefore someone else's responsibility). I'm disenchanted with authority, my eyes opened to the hypocracy, lies, and ineptitude of all the institutions I used to have faith in (government, medicine, education, parents...). I'm pissed off all the time at the unfair hand I have been dealt in life, which is honestly fucked up--but also owning the fact that in some ways I've been spectacularly blessed.

Indeed, I'm embracing the fact that I am, as a whole, awesome. I don't give a fuck what the mean girls think of me, or anyone else. I am rocking my own style, my own agenda. I got this.

So that's fun.
I just wish I had teenage me's energy to go with the attitude.

I am so desperately weak and tired these days. That girl, she had a supernova of hormones to break her out of the chrysalis of her past and motor toward an uncertain future.

All I need is a spark, and a slow burn.

I can handle the rest.

 
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
21 January 2019 @ 08:33 am

Once upon a time I had this friend. We were very close. My kid called her "Auntie".  She made my husband and I godparents to hers. Given the problems I have with my own family, it was a really big deal for me to cross that line from friend to family with someone I'm not actually related to. It was nice.

This friendship went on for many years, until it abruptly stopped. I wasn't consulted with its stopping. I was aware that it was failing, sure. I did what I could to fix it, kept trying to make plans, create an opportunity to talk, but she kept begging off. I was heavily pregnant with my daughter, and really could have used my best friend. But she was pulling away, for reasons she didn't feel a need to explain. She met my daughter once, but only by accident. When I didn't hear from her in the months after giving birth, I accepted that the friendship was dead.

I think the thing that upset me most was that I didn't even warrant a conversation. I had my suspicions about the reasons: I offered a critique of her latest novel that she didn't ask for. She found a new writer bestie who enjoys the same guerrilla tactics of self-marketing, an approach I'm not into. She made overtures, without asking me, to bring her bestie into a project that had been a collaboration between the two of us--I refused. I think our differences outpaced what we had in common and we grew apart. It happens. I just don't understand how someone could think enough of me to ask me to stand up in a church and make a promise to God over her firstborn's  curly head, but then scuttle away and ghost me with no explanation, no "fuck you" and goodbye.

As a Gemini I don't typically handle lack of closure very well. I did pretty good--we even accidentally did a writing event together, and we were civil AF. But apparently it was there, a little thorn in the paw. Years later, the story of our godson's Christening came up--how the Kinglet, in Tom's arms, made the promises right along with us so that, technically, he's a godparent too. I had a beer or two in me, which got my Irish fired up, so I messaged her about it: I took that promise seriously, and it hurts me that I can't keep it. Let me know if you ever want to talk.

The fact that she did not respond was closure in its own right. Those are her choices: to slink away on account of whatever perceived slight, to shrug off family and friendship and religion with no further comment needed, to ignore a pointed request for armistice. I think it shows a fundamental lack of character; it's frustrating and hurtful, but it's no fault of mine. I tried.

Mostly, now, when I think about her I just snicker. Without the blur of friendship, her flaws are bright and bold and comical. Someone I used to know.

But I thought about her the other day while going through bins in my basement, hoping to downsize. I still had copies of all her early books. I pitched most of them into the donations pile, but thought twice about the one she gave me right before the Kinglet was born. It was inscribed with love for him, with bright hope for his future, from Ti-ti. Should I keep it, for his sake? I put it aside.

Then, in the way of these things: a mutual writer friend referenced her this morning on Facebook, with links to an upcoming event that I couldn't see because, apparently, at some point she blocked me. Blocked me. Because of the message, I suppose.

Which solves my dillemma--no I'm not saving the book for Kinglet. The bitch deserves to be forgotten.

 
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
17 January 2019 @ 06:39 pm
I think it wise that I not accept any more gigs beyond what I have already committed to. For the foreseeable future.

I think I'm good to go for Sunday's panel (which means, of course, it is now free to snow that day and get us cancelled)--but damn. The prep takes so much out of me. It ain't good, methinks.

I need time to recoup my strength.
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
16 January 2019 @ 10:40 am

My enjoyment of / ability to read

lies at the crossroads of

my failing eyesight

and my spotty memory.


That is the scariest thought to have occurred to me

in quite a while.

 
 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
06 January 2019 @ 03:24 pm
I feel like I'm 7 months pregnant. With twins. One of them is lodged under my right hip. I can't get comfortable no matter how I sleep--it requires a complicated ballet of pillows with distinct thinknesses and shape. My back hurts, my belly hurts, and I'm tired all the time because it requires a shit ton of energy to lug my growing babies around in a sac attached to my spine.

Only with a pregnancy, there's an end in sight: you deliver the babies, and your body bounces (kind of) back. With kidney disease, the only end is a holy mary pass with someone else's organs after you've lost your own monster kidney babies to total system failure.

It's a nightmare, really. I mean there are worse things to suffer from. But it's weird and scary and very uncomfortable, in every sense.



 
 
Lady T. - "The Witch Is In"
06 January 2019 @ 09:07 am

So about a month ago I was awarded a license for medical marijuana by the (blessedly Blue) State of Delaware. My neurologist backed me on it, as did my husband. My family knows; I've discussed it with the Kinglet. I will even consume it in front of them--not like whoo whoo boy, Mommie's gonna dance with Lucy in the Sky now, but as in, "Mommie's in pain and she needs to feel better."

And I am feeling better.

Not, like, super great, mind you. I'm still very sick--very weak. My life is a dance with pain from waking until the wee hours. Lately I hurt so bad, I don't even love my bed anymore--can't wait to get out of it in the morning. If you've ever shared a bed with me, you know what a stark change that is.

To be clear: marijuana doesn't take the pain away; what it DOES do is relax me, loosen the reins that pain has on me. Importantly, it is also changing the dynamic of my relationships with Pain and Pain Medicine.  I am still (very) dependent on pain medicine--as a mother and a still-youngish poet person I have a lot of work to do, which I cannot do hunched in a Pain Chair. BUT, because of marijuana I am learning to build tides into my day, circuitous pathways to task management.  This is so much better than the Triage Method, that approach that helped me survive my 30s and early special needs parenting--I needed it then but I don't need it now, so it has to go.

Now I'm in the very early stages of transition. There will be much trial and error, much exploration. Sorting through the products that are available, for instance. (You guys, it's a Brave New World for pot since I've been away. The subject of lots of future writing, I suspect.) But this whole new philosophy on life, this whole new journey that I'm on--I don't think it would be possible without marijuana. I'm beside myself with gratitude to have this opportunity.

As a chronic pain patient, one of the millions caught up in the tricky web of opioids and the health industry, I see federal legalization of medical marijuana as a promising answer to the so-called opiod crisis. Give people pain relief that won't kill them, for fuck's sake. Come on, now.

So, bonus; by writing about my own personal health journey, I can also chronicle for something I believe in. Y to ay. :)