Background Programs

I suppose I should feel grateful.

My stats have gone haywire over this last week. My post about Doc Hordinsky must have been shared over Facebook again, because I’ve been receiving mass hits on my blog because of it over the last few days.

Exposure is supposed to be good for writers, right?

Ok.

Instead, tonight, I’m sitting inside my house, in the dark, isolating myself. My anxiety has me in near-panic mode, for some unknown reason, and my evening has disappeared down a dark, seemingly endless well of nothing.

I’m numb to everything but the panic, and I can’t decide between flight or hide. “Fight” isn’t an option, since there’s no opponent, so it’s either “flight” which means medicating myself into oblivion… Or “hide”, which is to try to ride it out curled up in bed, hoping the morning will see it gone.

……..

I haven’t heard anything from E (my stalker) since Saturday… This, to me, means he’s either out of his normal phone service area, or he’s making his way overseas… At least when I was seeing the auto-rejected phone calls, I knew where he was located. Now, he could be anywhere, & I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

No wonder my anxiety is so high.

Rather like this post about Doc, which is years old, still garnering so much attention even to this day…

The programs running in the background always seem to carry the biggest surprises… Not always good ones.

Learning the Dark

This is a difficult post to begin, so I’m just going to dive right into the middle, and work my way out to the edges from there.

The Morrigan works from the gut, most of the time, anyway. She is instinct & courage. Passion and fire and fury.

I’m learning to listen, here, to what She has to say, because I’m in the middle of a battle…and I need all the help I can get right now.

And being told that my emotions, at least the “darker” ones, need to be abandoned, given up, let go… 

Is bullshit.

I used to repress my emotions.

I used to tamp them down, pushing them into smaller & smaller spaces, because they were deemed “unacceptable”, “socially abnormal” and just plain “dark, morbid, negative & wrong”. 

Until, of course, I’d explode, sending my anger, darkness, whatever you want to call it, by this time magnified exponentially, onto whomever was closest to me at the time, whether they deserved it or not.

I was Vesuvius.

I was Krakatoa.

I was Pele.

I was fire and ash and death, burning the air, scorching oxygen from others’ lungs and melting the ground out from under their stance. 

And, when I was finished, I would feel horrible over the destruction I’d caused, but would have no idea how to fix it, so would run away…leaving the wreckage behind.

So, I grew up.

Learned how to express myself better, with more clarity. (For the most part) Yes, sometimes I still fall down the verbal well when it comes to expressing my feelings to someone, especially someone who knows me from my past, because they have access to those emotional buttons (triggers) that caused me to go off “back then”. 

Started blogging, which really does help me figure out my emotions, & how to verbalize them.

But, back to the darkness.

I…am not a sunshiney kind of person. I’m not a hippie, or a bohemian. I’m not a cheerleader or perky pixie type. (Factoid -I tried my hand at cheerleading in high school, but even to this day, people don’t believe me, & need photographic proof)

If I weren’t almost 47 years old, I’d say I was closer to a Goth or Emo kid, or at least on that end of the spectrum, because of the way I think, speak, act, dress, blah, blah. 

Hell, I’ve said it before, in relation to my poetry… “I was Emo before it was a style”.

I wear black, pretty much all the time.

Not because it’s slimming, but because it helps me blend in to shadows better, and, as I’ve said before “It goes better with my soul”.

I laugh at morbid jokes.

I don’t get scared watching “scary” movies, but instead critique the special effects techniques, laugh at the stupid dialogue, & make fun of the plot choices.

I prefer to sit in the dark, rather than turn on a light.

I sit up late at night, and hate early mornings.

I detest early morning chatter at work, and do everything I can to avoid it.

I need my dark side.

After all…

You cannot see and know the light unless you sit first and accept the darkness.

Morrigan came to me at this time of my life for a reason.

She knows I need my darkness.

She is the Queen there, & can help me navigate my way far better than some of the lighter Goddesses. 

This is not going to be an easy battle.

My darkness is the only thing holding me together right now.

Don’t touch.

Selfie

I am self-reliant.

It’s something I pride myself on, my independence, my ability to stand on my own two. It’s seen me through a lot of tough times, & shown me that I can do a lot more than I ever thought I was capable of.

But that’s also how I was raised.

My parents are strong, independent people. Born in the mid-40s, they were raised by parents who taught them that hard work was its own reward; that success was not about making millions, but was about achieving personal goals, while being a good, caring person at the same time. I’ve strived to emulate that same strength of character. 

Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about myself while getting my hands dirty, too. As my dad has always said, “Shit washes off”, so I dig into a job, getting filthy in the process, waiting till it’s finished before I clean up. Then I can sit back & enjoy the results of my labors. 

Of course, there are some things that are sacrificed in the process. 

My clothes, for example…

I have some that are permanently stained, torn & stretched, frayed & ruined beyond redemption due to wearing them while doing this type of work. 

*sigh*

My hands…

Although skin replaces itself & heals, the scratches & calluses are there, temporarily, & the arthritis- well, that is there permanently, & vehemently objects, but I insist right back just as obstinately.  And I win. For now, anyway.

I’ll pay for it later.  I know. 

But, the benefits I’ll reap from this are good enough for me. 

I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that I took care of my mowing myself. I trimmed the bushes in the backyard. I raked & cleaned up the trash by the fence. I was the one who started cutting down the trees by the fence with the chainsaw. (got stopped by the rain – can’t use an electric chainsaw in the rain…Right?)

It’s enough for me to know that – I am the one who can do these things.

I – don’t need anyone to do these things for me. 

I might want someone to share my life with…

But I don’t need them to breathe.

I am my own selfie.

Breathe In

Breathe In…

Realizing that I am stronger now than I ever have been, I can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone I choose.

Breathe out…

Let go of those who want me to be someone I’m not, the ones who say one thing to my face, yet something else behind my back, the ones who tell me “I’m only saying this for your own good”, as if they know me better than I know myself.

Breathe in…

Remember that I don’t have to follow anyone, I can make my own path through the forest.  

Breathe out…

I answer to no one. My choices are my own, my actions are my responsibility, and I will take whatever the consequences may be.

Breathe in…

I may be alone right now, but I am strong enough to be. I AM ENOUGH, ALL BY MYSELF.

Breathe out…

If they aren’t willing to commit, why would I want them here, anyway? If it’s so easy to walk away…keep walking, and don’t come back this time, because I won’t be here, waiting. 

Breathe in……….