tinhuviel: (Farce)

The other day, I came across this article - and soon found myself in awe of the information the piece provided. It’s an image-heavy article, which means this post will also be image-heavy. I’m not copy-pasting the text, so I strongly suggest clicking this telling image to be taken to the full write-up, especially if you’ve had a breakdown, know someone who has had a breakdown, or you ever fell victim to one of my unexpected, late-night, inexplicable and incoherent ramblings via email, blog commentary, or any other method by which you and I maintain contact.

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With each image that applies or have applied to my experience, I will share how it felt for me, if I suffered from the description in the picture. The first one here will show what will be behind the cut, should you decide to read further.

mb26.jpgFor me, this was not a sudden mindset, but a gradual one. In crises, I was always the one that held things together.  I could switch off parts of my brain, and do what I needed to do at that moment in time.  At the age of 12, I was the one who gave directions to the paramedics, when my great-grandmother had her massive stroke.  Granny was a non-functioning, human-shaped manifestation of panic, and Aunt Tudi was frantically trying to get things ready for when the ambulance arrived to the point where, honestly, she was being a detriment to any progress we might could have had. It was only two days later that the upheaval found me, at which time I became non-functional for a period of time, just a few days.  In times of turmoil, I realised I could take care of whatever situation I found myself, then release it all later in private.  The only times I ever lost that ability was the night before Granny died in 1993.  The doctors told us there was no hope, and she could die at any moment.  Since Granny also helped to raise me, having lived with me all my life, I fell to pieces.  But the next morning, when she died, I was cool as a cucumber.  This was Aunt Tudi's mother, to whom she had been excessively close.  This blow to her emotional well-being is something she never quite got over.  I was the one who had to make Granny's arrangements, and I did so in a disconnected manner, devoid of bothersome emotions.  Things needed to be done, and there was no one but me stepping up.  I remember a cousin remarking that I had to be some sort of Vulcan, or just callous as hell.

Click this if you care to continue. )
tinhuviel: (RepLogo)

We would go up to Craggy Dome at least once year to pay our respects to Granny.

The last two times I visited, it was to add Aunt Tudi's ashes to Grannys. I went back up a couple of weeks later, broke my camera, got lost, and finally got back to Janice and Uncle Michael's.

I want to go again.  One more time.  I need it.  The only other place I could imagine being happy to die there is Craggy Gardens in Asheville, NC, and magick that is Avesbury.

Visiting the area from which we scattered Granny's ashes in 1993 seemed to bring a kind of peace to Aunt Tudi.  She might have started the journey a little down in the mouth, but crazy music and dangerous coffee took care of all that.  And it allowed us to have the fun, I'd like to think Granny would have wanted us to have.  The one solemn moment was when Aunt Tudi would retouch the black cross on the stone from which we launched Granny.  I could always tell when she needed some alone time.  I never thought I'd be making that drive by myself, intent on tracing a Pentagram beside the cross.  Aunt Tudi was not a Wiccan or a Pagan, but she grokked it in a way a lot of self-proclaimed Witches are at loss to understand.



I want that sensation of flight and try to spin onto my back like a bag in the wind, so I can face Nature's painting masterpiece and maybe even glimpse the spirits of Aunt Tudi and Granny, as they stand to welcome me after gravity has had its dark way.
I need to go home.

tinhuviel: (Ornate Triskele)
Tree_of_Life_by_Capstoned
"...but don't talk to me about how things happen for a reason, don't talk to me about how you're going to pray for me, don't talk to me about how Jesus saves. If that were the case I'd have a whole lot more of my loved ones around me right now."

(to read the Huffington blog post, Atheism Reaffirmed, from whence this quote came, click the lovely picture above.)


This one perfect [portion of a] sentence flawlessly describes the point at where my lifelong spiritual journey has been going since August 2011. When I began studying Witchcraft in the late 80s, I was particularly struck by the notion that praying or working magick for someone who neither asked, nor gave their permission for you to do so can, at the very least, be perceived as unethical when looking at the deed through the Wiccan Rede. As someone who grew up in an area of America where "I'll pray for you" was a phrase that implicated two very different messages (1. I care about you and only want the best for you in these difficult times and 2. Just you wait - you'll get yours!), I began refraining from imposing my spiritual inclinations, if only indirectly through prayer/magick/whatever, without explicit permission to do so.

When Aunt Tudi died, I was bombarded with declarations, all of which were well-intentioned from people who truly care about me, of: "I will pray for you." Her death had already hurtled me into a crisis of faith, so the innocent efforts on the part of friends and family, fell on increasingly resentful ears. Most of the time, I felt violated in a very profound way, by the very people who meant, and still mean, everything to me. That one simple sentence tipped the balance of my Agnostic Paganism onto a burgeoning Agnostic Atheism. The emotional and psychological landscape in which I found myself, and still do to a slightly lesser degree, found no presence of god, goddess, or anything in between. I began politely requesting that people leave me out of their communications with the deity or deities in which they believe. Most everyone understood why I asked this of them. Some were offended, but came to accept and honour my wishes. A minute number were determined to carry on with their activities, feeling that my request was born out of aftershock, immeasurable grief, and misplaced opposition to faith-based efforts on my behalf, their logic being that, once the initial trauma eased, I would be grateful to them for keeping my spiritual back when my own belief system had been shaken to the point of abandoning it altogether.

The reason why I'm posting this quote and link, and adding my opinions regarding its subject, is to add some perspective for anyone who is suffering in some way, or knows someone in crisis of any kind. The issue of spirituality and the countless religions that have sprung from it is probably the most sensitive in human culture. Before you inadvertently have a hand in someone's loss of faith, think as objectively as you can in a wholly subjective situation. Pray on it, if that's how you address the moments in life that leave you unsure of what you could or should do. Listen to your inner voice and, most importantly, listen to the one for whom you want to pray or hold ritual. Just being there for her/him could be the best thing for them, and may eventually restore faith on its own terms.

I would like to make clear that this is not directed solely at Christians, even though Jesus is mentioned in the sentence that resulted in this post. It is for anyone of any faith to take to heart. With the exception of extremists in any religion, I think that believers are good, well-intentioned, and beautiful people who do what they do out of love. But humans, as is our nature, make mistakes in the name of love. This is a chance to avoid making another one.

Thank You

Aug. 16th, 2014 11:31 pm
tinhuviel: (Gothtin)

If you are seeing this post, you are counted amongst many people who embraced me three years ago this month, as well as all of you who've stuck by me since then.  I may be abrasive, contrary, stubborn, and generally unpleasant, but I try to never be ungrateful.  So, thank you.


"The most important thing is to say a huge thank you. What an insubstantial way to express something so big, but thank you all the same. Your compassion made the bleakest moment of my life strangely inspiring too.” — Click to continue

Forgive Me

May. 24th, 2014 03:09 pm
tinhuviel: (Pensive)
Today, Aunt Tudi would have turned 70 years old.

I've been relatively okay up until now.

The Mother Unit and I were talking about how illogical the "buy more, save more" mantra that retailers so often use to encourage more consumption. And I told her about how, every week, Aunt Tudi would go to Wal-Mart and fall for so many of their tactics, and we would always leave with mounds of stuff we couldn't use, wouldn't use, and was a total waste of money and time.

And it occurred to me how impatient I was with Aunt Tudi at times like that, and how I'd lose my temper, and rush her, and complain.

I would give everything in the world just to be able to go to Wal-Mart with her one more time, and buy anything and everything she wanted and tons of stuff she might think she might want later on. And I would play any music she would want to hear in the car, if I had one, and I'd listen to everything she had to say, and engage in lengthy conversations with her, and pay her more attention, and not be put off by her inclination for nostalgia.

And I would play along at Christmas time, and not be such a Scrooge. I'd pretend to be more family-oriented, and participate in any of the celebrations she would want to attend. I'd listen to her political rants.

I would do anything she would want me to do, and I would do it gladly. Because I'd just be glad to have her around again.

I am not okay. Not by a longshot.

I see her dying, her eyes empty, and that's all I can see whenever I close my eyes. On her birthday, I keep seeing her die over and over again.

I am not okay.
tinhuviel: (Frustration)
I trawled through previous posts of LJ friends and tried to post comments as much as possible. I feel like I'm neglecting everyone, not that my involvement means anything. I'm usually very involved on Facebook, because it's more friendly to media and that's what I'm focused on mostly right now. I desperately try to find amusing things in my life right now. I don't think I want to flood other peoples Live Journals with a bunch of useless crap that makes me feel better. If we're friends on Facebook, you know what I mean here.

I was supposed to have an appointment with my psychiatrist yesterday, but when I went, they said my appointment was on December 4th. I took up a couple of hours of Janice's time going there and to the store and post office, which was closed by the time I got there (I trawled through previous posts of LJ friends and tried to post brujah). The first thing I did when I got home was check my appointment card. It says November 28th. I put the card in my purse to show to the receptionist when I go back. I thought I had lost my mind, but it turns out I didn't. I had to call Janice, who had gone to a nearby K-Mart to just roam around whilst I waited to see the doctor, then I started walking up the small road the psychiatrist's office is on. As I walked, I sprained my ankle on the uneven pavement and fell. My ankle started swelling up almost immediately and it hurts like hell today. I can't go to the doctor about it because I've been tagged as a drug seeker after my suicide attempt last November. They wouldn't give me anything for the pain because of that, so I'm taking Ibuprofen, which make flare up my ulcer. If I start vomiting blood, I'm not gonna let anyone know this time. I don't really care. No one is gonna help me anyway.

It's pretty cold here. My heater won't turn on. I have propane for heat. I don't have the money to call the repairman out, so I emailed the Mother Unit to see if she could help me a week ago. She hasn't responded. I'm sure she's tired of my asking her for money. Janice brought down a small electric space heater, but those things use so much electricity, and I can't afford a large electric bill, so I'm using it sparingly only at night. At the moment, I can hardly feel my hands, they're so cold.

My life is shit. I wish I could deal with everything as well as
tinhuviel: (Crone)
I am finding it pretty impossible to observe Thanksgiving this year.

How do you celebrate a day of thanks when you can't find anything to be thankful for, and you don't know whom or what you'd be thanking for it anyway? I dunno. It seems pretty futile to me.

Agnosticism

Nov. 9th, 2012 07:31 pm
tinhuviel: (Bible)
When I was a very young child, starting around the age of 4, my dream was to be a nun. I just wanted to go around singing to people and healing them, have a personal relationship with god, and wear a fashionable veil. That bubble was burst when I found out I wasn't Catholic. So I figured preacher might be a better fit anyway. That bubble was burst when I found out you had to have a winky before god would even look at you. I began to wonder if any of this was nothing more than bullshit. I remember hearing a Bible story where someone tested god's presence by leaving a dry clothe out at night. If it had no dew, it was proof that god existed. I could totally be getting this wrong. Whatever it was, I thought I could get my proof in the same manner. I placed a dry rag in the closet and prayed that, if god existed, it would be wet in the morning. I had all manner of faith that it would be wet.

I was wrong.

The next morning it was dry as could be. I was 7 and that was the morning I began to question the nature and existence of god. I wanted desperately to believe. Something about the myths and songs from various cultures always brought me a kind of peace. Science fiction began to fill a hole in my myth that god just could not anymore. Even when I discovered Witchcraft and felt the Divine Feminine for the first time in my life in 1989, it still wasn't completely enough for me to suspend all disbelief and give myself over to a higher or otherworldly presence.

When Aunt Tudi died, I encountered two people too busy with their church activities to help me deal with some issues. The screamed hypocrisy to me. It wasn't god's fault; rather, it was the flaw of people trying to follow in god's footsteps. What else could I say? But there was a part of me who resented it all. God had taken away my way of life. God had taken away my willingness to live. God had stirred a strong longing for human extinction within my breast. And those friends I though I had, they'd been transformed into Stepford Wives for Christ.

I've always considered myself a student of spirituality, an agnostic looking for a place near deity where I could finally rest and learn. I'm further from that place than ever before. For the first time in my life, I'm looking more logically at atheism than I ever did blind faith. When you stare into the dead eyes of the woman who raised you and you find no indication where she my have gone, if anywhere, atheism has a valid argument. When all the Hypo-Christians circle your broken spirit to get you in their church when you're at your most vulnerable, atheism looks like a lot sweeter deal.

I don't know that I believe anymore more. I don't know what I want to believe. I don't know if I want to believe anything at all anymore. And I'm too tired of all of it to be a good agnostic and seek for my place in the universe/
tinhuviel: (Caveman)
So I went to my second therapy session today. John, the therapist, is pretty groovy. He's a total Hippie, anti-establishment, laid-back like whoa. He seems to think I'm on the right track as far as seeking anything and everything that will make me laugh, saying the effort will balance out the grief. I told him the only problem I have with my Quest for Hilarity is, I've discovered the only thing I dislike more than crying in public, is laughing by myself.

He seems to think it would do me some good to connect to other people, so I had to tell him about my feelings regarding humanity. It's kind of hard to forge friendships when you think your own species is comprised of mostly dickheads and arseholes. Besides, I can't really go out and socialise with anyone when I can't bloody drive. He said we'd work on this at length.

I go back to see him in three weeks, so we'll see how it goes.

Immobilised

Jul. 9th, 2012 11:31 am
tinhuviel: (Kowalski)
A few days ago, CarMax called to let me know the Smartie had gotten a wee bit of damage en route from Columbia to the lot up here. It appears that one of the hood clips had been broken off and would need to be replaced. The problem is, Smart Cars are made by Mercedes Benz (WHOA! SWAG! I had no idea), and they have to get the part from overseas. So I find myself now waiting at least five more days, maybe more. I hope not. I've been pretty much car-less now for a month.

I've paid all my bills online and have been chewing on the food I've had, but would prefer to eat only if that was all I had (I'm there!), but I had to give in and ask Janice if I could ride with her when she went out tomorrow. I have to get my anti-depressant and anti-seizure meds, and I really need to check the mailbox. Hopefully, this week will see my last week stuck at home. And I'll get to go see Diane, who is doing relatively well, but is still not back to 100%.

I have had housework to do but, once again, I find myself looking at all of it and being literally unable to compel myself to really care. It seems like it's happening like this at least once every five or so weeks. The docs have assured me this is normal with the kind of grief and PTSD I'm dealing with. It's almost like being paralysed. I did finally do laundry yesterday, but it's still sitting in the dryer. Aunt Tudi would be horrified by the state of the house, which is kind of ironic, since losing her is what has put me in the phantasmagoric state of immobility. It will be a year next month. Part of me thinks I should be moving on, but almost everyone else, including the docs, tell me that everyone runs on their own grief schedule. Since mine is tinged by PTSD, it's gonna take longer.
tinhuviel: (Caveman)
I'm sort of back, but not completely. Getting a different car, hopefully. Don't ask. :/ I have a new list of grief support groups and therapists that specialise in grief, so hopefully I'll find somebody. It's ridiculous not to be able to find anyone after 9 freakin' months. Stupide Upstate...

Oh yeah, the hard drive on the old computer is completely destroyed, so the only files I could save were the ones on the hard drive. Hopefully I haven't lost much. If I don't twig on to something I no longer have, then I didn't need it anyway. That's the philosophy I'm gonna have to take, on a account I have no choice.

Finally

May. 16th, 2012 11:06 am
tinhuviel: (Cliffs of Insanity)
After playing phone tag with the appointment coordinator for new patients, I finally got to talk to her and she has set me up an appointment with a doctor/therapist that works primarily in the fields of depression and grief. I go next week on the 22nd at 2:15. Since the place is in a part of Greenville about which I'm almost completely ignorant, I've asked Diane to ride shotgun with me and read the directions to me on the way over there. And, considering what I'm going for and what I'll be talking about, I'm pretty certain I'm gonna be too much of a mess to drive home safely, so Diane will drive back and stick around until I'm able to drive her back home.

I'm really relieved that I'm finally going to get some help with this. Almost nine months of crippling depression and grief is quite enough for anyone to deal with almost completely alone. Truth be told, if it hadn't been for you guys, my Internet family, I probably would not be here right now. You've been such a comfort and joy to me over the past few months, I can't imagine being without any of you. So major thanks and props to every last one of you. I just hope that someday I can repay you in kind in any way I can, no matter how small and insignificant my contribution will probably be.

I'll be writing about what goes on at this new doctors as things develop. Here goes nothing!

February 2019

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