The Return To Innocence

I need to write this down before I completely forget.
Last night, I had a dream in which I was hanging out with a bunch of Sumerian deities, most of whom I could barely name.
We were setting a mansion on fire, hosing it down, and repeating the process.
Everyone kept calling me "Inanna" instead of Joanna. And I felt so flattered that for some reason I kept floating off the ground. Every time I lifted off the ground, a storm would gather and everyone started acting as though they were in love with everything everywhere, laughing and giggling and acting almost drugged.
Someone told me, "You are the evening star." And I said, "Funny that, I was born right before a midnight when Venus was very blindingly bright. Evening Star used to be one of my nicknames. Now sometimes my dreams call me Moonlight Witch."
And someone else said "Exactly. Do you understand now?" I said, "What? Wait, understand what?"
But everyone just smiled, and as I was pulled back down to earth, the soil became soft enough to drag me down, and I began to sink. It felt soothing and tranquil. I called out, "Don't forget to refurbish that mansion when I get back!" And then I woke up.
Try and interpret that, various dream dictionaries!

I took the Ultram. I took the Soma. I too the Klonopin. I stretched and exercised and meditated. Obviously this is not a day for healing anything. Obviously this is a day for more post seizure insanity, massive pain flares, stiff joints, and depression.

And to that I say, Meh. Whatever. Life will happen as life happens. I will ride the waves and be optimistic and idealistic.
Disappointment will happen but that doesn't mean I have to let it lead me.
Just because things don't meet my expectations doesn't mean I should whine or make faces. Just because plans change abruptly doesn't mean I should frown and mutter and think people dislike me. Just because things don't work out doesn't mean I should stomp my feet and decide life is awful. Life is wonderful. Friends are wonderful. Just go with it.
My favorite words for a while will be Ohm and Namaste.
The biggest things that matter are that I take care of myself, that I do my best to help my loved ones, that I don't get angry unless it is the proper cleansing sort of anger, that I leave the past in the past, that I love people, that I love the world... that I am my little bit of the universe and the multiverse.
I am currently wearing my amazing custom ring with kyanite and lepidolite and charoite, my other ring with charoite and lapis lazuli, my citrine bracelet, my amber pentacle ouroborous pendant, and my open design pentacle ring. I feel secure, protected, warm, loved, guided, empowered. That matters more than anything right now.

Well, then.
Spears raised to the sky, screaming hard enough for the gods to hear my battle cry.
Covered in blood and dark and pain and scars and insanity. Teeth and talons bared, skin flayed just enough to show how I can still stand and fight. Do not back down. Stand up until my body collapses on its own. Find a safe place to heal and rest. Gear up again and rush out again. Over and over, on and on, for the rest of my life, this will never end. Spears and swords and armor and power and intensity.
I am not strong. I just want to live.
This is not about bravery or inspiration. This is not about using my disabilities to show or prove anything to anyone.
This is about my life. This about my battles. This is about my fellow warriors, who I will support until I fall, and if I fall I will crawl to throw the final spear.
I just want to live. I don't care what is normal or crazy. I just want myself back. It will take the rest of this life and beyond, but I am prepared.
My monsters will always be there to damage me. I will always be there to damage my monsters. Welcome to life.
I will stand. I will fight. I will hurt. I will heal. I will crawl. I will return. I will fight on and on because it is all I am. I will fight.
I will stand up.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWqmRGnqYpw

Oh, son of Ammit who devours the dead under the Scales of Justice in the Hall of Two Truths in the house of Osiris. I was absolutely not expecting such a ferocious migraine to burst into the fibromyalgia flare, take over the party, get the cerebral palsy hypertonia drunk, and sit back and wait for some random symptom to explode all over the place until my neuromuscular system and musculoskeletal system get scorched. I would maybe curse Anubis and Osiris under my breath, but hell no, I can't.
All I can do is treat it as best I can and wait for it to pass. And hope that nothing gets too insane, because screaming and sobbing makes my throat hurt.
Besides, I am already backing away and crawling toward the Greek pantheon, because oh my various gods and galaxies, I need to feel better soon or the screaming may happen. I am about to cry out for Apollo, Artemis, Asclepius, Aceso, Aegle, and the Moirai themselves, because this is hard to breathe through.

...anyway, I'm going to take some heavy medical drugs and curl up now with my penguin and dolphin Pillow Pets. And my three cats.

Also, I need to copy this Facebook comment that I wrote, because it explains a lot about my brain, and I need to remember:

*Well, Mom was atheist while Dad was agnostic until he started leaning more atheist. They actually did "celebrate" Christmas and Hannukah, mainly because their friends did, and they wanted to raise me with overall world religion knowledge. I grew up believing that the Abrahamic god was just like the Greek gods, Egyptian gods, etc. Fallible, human-like, silly, weird, touchable in ways, in no way above and beyond human comprehension.
In fact, in elementary school, a classmate asked me what religion I was, and I said "Um, American?" because I honestly didn't understand. When I came home, mom gave me a giant book on World Mythology and told me that I could figure out what I wanted to try. She then sat me down and explained all about Judaism, Christianity, Islam, polytheism, and other things like that. She told me that if I ever did choose a religion, that I should stay open-minded no matter what. Being six at the time, I said, "Well, I really like the Greek gods, but I think I wanna be agnostic. Is that okay?"
Then later, as a pre-teen and then teenager, I started having dreams featuring humanoid beings who identified themselves as various gods from the pantheons from Greece and Egypt. Given that my father's family was all Italian and Greek, that made sense, and my mother could trace her family history all the way to the Jews in Egypt, something like that. I did take the dreams seriously, because they really were that weird, but I figured that the so-called "gods" were interdimensional or cosmic entities. (I was always really big on science fiction and fantasy.)
So when I started college, I decided that eclectic paganism was the path for me, since it was a very personal kind of faith/belief. My mom is still skeptical of many things although she will admit to paranormal and supernatural stuff, and my father was accepted into the Freemasons (as his lodge's only stonemason) and just says he believes in an overall "God-like source" even though he's probably more of a pantheist. Me, I'm a polytheist polyagnostic pantheist eclectic pagan with a greco-roman concentration. But it was my childhood atheism that helped me figure things out. I'm grateful for it, because it helped show me how to see people and faith from a very specific perspective.
I've always said that if someone proved to me that one god/religion or another was completely true or completely false, I would shrug, say, "Okay" and go back to my business. I think Terry Pratchett said it best when Granny Weatherwax encountered Herne in the forest: Yes, I see you. Just because you exist does not mean I have to believe in you.
I also try to quote Sam's huge monologue from Neil Gaiman's "American Gods." I can believe in a LOT of things.*

A hot shower helped a little bit. Rubbing healing salve into my joints and muscles helped a little bit. I am typing with one finger on my right hand, assisted lethargically by one finger on my left hand. Said left hand is currently spastic and hemiparetic and burning and stupid. Also my left leg and the left side of my face is doing the same thing. I am used to that, but I wish I were not.
I will be going to bed soon. I wish things would stop hurting. My head is still spinning.

Somebody make me laugh, please? Jokes, cute pictures, funny stories, weird or crazy stories, whatever. I may not see comments until tomorrow, but it would be lovely to laugh.

I like things that make me laugh. No matter how much I hurt, I want to laugh.
Oh, fuck, this really hurts. Somebody help me joke about it.

Dear Self,
Remember this. Remember. To. Breathe. Properly. Seriously.
BREATHE.
http://www.freetrainers.com/c/fitness_guide_faq/fitness_faq/breathing_while_exercising/

Also, Note To Friends:
Even though I now refer to "Yoga Poses" as "Meditative Stretching Exercises" because that's what yoga is (See: http://brightrosefox.livejournal.com/1525602.html), I want people to recommend yoga poses because, well, that's the word, and those poses are the names. In fact, I recently began doing a specific kind of side stretch, but I have no idea what yoga calls it. It's the one where I have both hands above my head, holding a ball of energy. Like this, but standing, and when I sit it's with my legs in a simpler pose:
https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/581067_247173458725222_1934524268_n.jpg

I mean, I love doing basic, simple yoga, but too many people I know still believe that it's thousands of years old, and I try not to facepalm. See, that's why I side-eye and shrug at some of the "Yogier Than Thou" people who insist that yoga is five centuries old. I think they mistake it for Ayurveda, maybe.

Now, I have a meditative side stretch pose to do, whatever the hell it's called. :) <3

Oh my darker gods, this ridiculous: It now hurts to brush my hair. Like, the muscles and nerves in my arms and hands are burning and aching and spasming. No fair. It isn't right.

Brushing my hair is one of the few major happy endorphin rushing happy pleasures I have. I hate this. I may just have to put this on record and pretend that brushing my damn hair counts as a therapy workout or something.

Happy thoughts, positive emotions, birds singing, uilleann pipes and violins playing, dancing in meadows, floating on a giant lotus in a calm lake...

I am so sorry, you guys. I don't want to keep talking about this. I really do want all my posts to be like sunshine and soft cool breezes and decadent chocolate and playful kittens and bunnies. But I need to make records of everything. Even on Facebook. It does matter. I will make sure my next post is happier., even if I am sad. I don't want to be sad, or in pain, or exhausted, or any of this. I do my best, and everybody tells me what I should try, and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't work, and I am so grateful. One day, things will be okay, no matter what.
No matter what.

I kind of feel like throwing a tantrum and whining. You know, "Why meee? I don't wanna hurt like this! Make it stooop! I'm so tiiired!"
But part of growing up and growing wise is learning to understand how far you can raise your limits.
If there is one platitude I will forever hate, it is the "You have no limits, they are all just in in your mind" bullshit. I certainly do have my limitations. I just have to keep pushing them more and more so it takes more strength to reach them, and along the way I slowly grow stronger in my own way. Once I reach those limits, I exhaust myself, then I rest, and then I push the limits even more, because it's a goal, like climbing a mountain. I don't "push past my limits" - I push my limits beyond so I can keep reaching for them.
Just because I have my limits does not mean I can't surpass them. They will always be there, but the farther away they are, the stronger I become as I work toward them.
But I do allow myself the occasional stomping and screaming and getting angry at the pain along the way, because Dealing With It tends to get very old and very exhausting. Being told to slap on a metaphorical bandage and walk it off makes me snarl and growl. Being told to use the pain as a focus makes me determined. My pain can be a weapon in a way.
I have held these powerful masks and walls in place all my life, and eventually I must let them all come crashing down, and I have no idea what will happen then, I just know it will not be pleasant or good at all. I refuse to bow or bend to anyone else's ideas of what it means to push through pain, but I will absolutely work with my own views. If I bend, I won't break. But even if I do break, I will put myself back together. I am a Diamond. I am Steel. I am a Rose. I am a Lotus. I am fragile and powerful and You Can't Tell Me What To Do. Unless I like what you're telling me. Then I will be happy with your advice and your views. But do not ever tell me what I cannot do for myself, because You Are Not Me. I Am Not You. One Person Is Not Another Person. Here, let us trade shoes and figure out what it is really like.
I am full of love right now, I am shining so intensely that I can barely see past my own soul. Who wants some Love? Who wants some Shiny Love? Seriously, I am radiating energy and power so insanely that all three cats are staring at me, all purring, and I can actually sense all the trees in the neighborhood bending slowly toward my house. I have no idea what any of this means, but I do know that I am full of a powerful thing that I cannot explain in words. I will do my best to help you Shine and Feel Loved as I sit here, by myself, with my cats and my toys and my books and my medicines. I am made of stars, just like you. We are the universe exploring its own imagination.
It's All Good.

I feel so shiny right now. Maybe all the meditation is getting to my brain. La. I amuse myself.
http://www.mnwelldir.org/docs/qigong/meditation.htm

The current short story I'm working on is going in fascinating directions, and I love it, but I'm having trouble reining it in. I find myself exploring the deep relationship between the main character and her girlfriend too much, and not focusing on the interdimensional travel, the aliens, the monsters, the superpowers, the multiverse concept, the ramifications of constant interdimensional travel via telekinesis (in conclusion, chronic migraines and nosebleeds suck).
I mean, I love that my girls love each other so much, but this is not a romance story. The handful of sex scenes are not those kinds of scenes. And the ex-boyfriend of one character keeps popping up and my writerbrain keeps wanting me to point out that they dated, but I'd already established that in the beginning, and seriously why is that monster hanging out over there? I thought I'd shoved it back into its home dimension.
I really need to finish this if I'm going to self-publish it online. And then I have to figure out how exactly I'm even going to do that. More meditation is in order.

I've mentioned how ecstatic I am to have my husband home yes? He has demanded the weekend and Monday off, and he rarely states that he is unavailable. He's probably the most in demand and loyal tech there, being a de facto project manager and head field tech and having skills that most of the other guys don't. I imagine that on Tuesday or Wednesday he'll be asked to pack up and go to another part of the country again for the rest of the week, to set up computers and equipment for more conferences or trade shows or live shows or things involving foreign dignitaries or what have you. Who knows. But for the next few days, he is MINE, rar.

My hair is still awesome. My skin still looks like I'm twenty. I'm still in tremendous pain, fatigue, and muscle tension, but whatever. Life is sweet. For now.

Here are some pictures of Adam with Luna. Luna loves him more than life and here she is hugging him for sweet life.

I feel so shiny right now. Maybe all the meditation is getting to my brain. La. I amuse myself.
http://www.mnwelldir.org/docs/qigong/meditation.htm

The current short story I'm working on is going in fascinating directions, and I love it, but I'm having trouble reining it in. I find myself exploring the deep relationship between the main character and her girlfriend too much, and not focusing on the interdimensional travel, the aliens, the monsters, the superpowers, the multiverse concept, the ramifications of constant interdimensional travel via telekinesis (in conclusion, chronic migraines and nosebleeds suck).
I mean, I love that my girls love each other so much, but this is not a romance story. The handful of sex scenes are not those kinds of scenes. And the ex-boyfriend of one character keeps popping up and my writerbrain keeps wanting me to point out that they dated, but I'd already established that in the beginning, and seriously why is that monster hanging out over there? I thought I'd shoved it back into its home dimension.
I really need to finish this if I'm going to self-publish it online. And then I have to figure out how exactly I'm even going to do that. More meditation is in order.

I've mentioned how ecstatic I am to have my husband home yes? He has demanded the weekend and Monday off, and he rarely states that he is unavailable. He's probably the most in demand and loyal tech there, being a de facto project manager and head field tech and having skills that most of the other guys don't. I imagine that on Tuesday or Wednesday he'll be asked to pack up and go to another part of the country again for the rest of the week, to set up computers and equipment for more conferences or trade shows or live shows or things involving foreign dignitaries or what have you. Who knows. But for the next few days, he is MINE, rar.

My hair is still awesome. My skin still looks like I'm twenty. I'm still in tremendous pain, fatigue, and muscle tension, but whatever. Life is sweet. For now.

Here are some pictures of Adam with Luna. Luna loves him more than life and here she is hugging him for sweet life.

And there goes the daily anxiety attack with the sobbing and the rambling and hopelessness and pointlessness and the fear and the worry and the desperation. Deep breaths, Klonopin, a phone call to the disability lawyer, a phone call to a senator's office. I am still in limbo, but moving up a bit. Now to confront that growing limbo within myself. I am grasping my Guanyin statue so tightly.

I have been using myself as a portrait model so much because I am searching for subtle, spiritual changes in my eyes, my mouth, the way my muscles shift around my bone structure. Each photo is a memory of a single moment bathed in light. I push my inner self out as much as possible; I try to show who I Am and Should Be and Will Be. Sometimes I am serenely beautiful. Sometimes I am cracked everywhere, splintered and scarred and melting into nothing. Sometimes I am full of sorrow when I don't realize.

My current firstworld problem, the one that hurts my soul the most, is wanting what I already have so much that I keep acquiring copies of what I already have, as though everything will disappear. As thought I might disappear.

From the time I was born, I have been tied directly to death and the cycle of creation and destruction. I fear the ultimate loss of everything I love even the smallest things. I do not fear the loss of myself, because some part of me always comes back. I can always find parts of me. I fear that I cannot find the Lost Things the way they used to be.

The most important thing now is to contemplate, meditate, understand, accept, and agree. Obsessions and compulsions are vicious and will never release me until I force them to. I am stronger. I was born to be who I am and will be. That is my goal.

Still, it never hurts to calm the panic with drugs, exercises, and good old fashioned talking.

( portrait model photos )