Give Me Love

Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran

Dear Mother,

Did your heart ever stirred with love for me? Or have I always been nothing but a burden to you? A method of escaping one prison while being held captive by other means?

You speak of your mother, and how she never cared. She ignored you except to tear you down or order you about. You are filled with rage about it, so much rage. You hate that she edits the past to fit what makes her look best. You speak with derision of her incessant need to make everything about herself.

Can't you see that everything you hate about her, you are?

You didn't want me. I know because you have told me so on many occasions. You have said that I ruined your social life, your love life, and your figure. When you started smoking, it was my fault as well. I drove you to it, you said. You never cuddled with me or hugged me. The easy affection that the girls and I share is something that you and I never had.

You deride every decision I have ever made. You don't want me to take my meds because you feel that I shouldn't need them. You don't think I should be with Alex despite the fact I have been with him for twelve years and he has been my sole source of support for most of that. You don't think I should work on my writing because "no one reads any more".

You call me names, even if my girls are there and listening. You threaten to turn us out on the streets or destroy our stuff--the only belongings that we have. You threaten to kill our cat or force us to get rid of him. You criticize the girls to teach them body shame and self hatred.

Is it any wonder that Lilium has stopped eating unless I beg her? She wants to take back the control that she's lost in this. She's scared and doesn't know how to express it. She needs stability. Her world is in chaos. I understand how she feels, but I can't give her what she needs now.

There was once a point when I would give anything for you to love me, for you to be proud of me. There may be always a part of me that wonders what was so horrifically wrong with me that my own mother didn't want me. But I accept that I can't live in that limbo. I need to let it go for my own piece of mind and happiness.

Maybe someday that won't hurt.

Terrible Feeling of Doom

There comes a time when one is forced to see things that they do not wish to see.

I thought that Alex and I were stronger than anything. We had been together for coming up on twelve years. In that time, we have had a lot of bad times. We, as a family, are among the poor. It's not from lack of trying either, despite what my sister PJ wants to believe. We have tried for years to sustain ourselves on our own. Everything was paycheck to paycheck and was held together by wistful thinking and prayer. If it could go wrong, it always did. We've gotten kicked out of places for the stupidest of reasons, and on the shortest of notices. We've both lost a lot of jobs for the stupidest of reasons too. I love my daughters, but they weren't planned.

When Alex went to Kentucky, it was with the promise of decent job that would pay our bills as well as the possibility of a house that we could set up to buy from the owner on a Rent-to-Own basis. Things were supposed to get better. It was supposed to be our break.

Well, the job didn't turn out. They fired him because he had gained a nickname among the other recruits and that was "unprofessional". Alex managed to snag another job, but it's only a temporary job with no guarantee of being kept on after the holiday season. It's also Walmart, which is notorious about underpaying their employees.

The guy with the houses that he wanted to sell refused to return phone calls. That's probably for the best. We couldn't afford to save anything anyway. So he's stuck there and I'm stuck here.

In swoops another person who seems to have all the answers. She came out of nowhere and was suddenly planning on living with us. She was going to give money to a broker so that we'd be millionaires before the year was out. That's what he specialized in, after all. Oh, and she would just build us a house to live in--isn't she nice? And she'll pay for me and the girls to come out there too! Why hasn't she moved forward with it? Oh, she just needs to talk to her firm back in Boston. She flies back next week...no, next week...no, next week...

As for her story about the broker, I know someone who has played the stock market and the hard currency market for several decades, so I asked him about it. He said that the odds are better playing the lottery than giving a mere hundred dollars to a broker, no matter how good he is.

Then Daddy came up with a really good lead. It's essentially the same job that Alex went out to Kentucky for only here in Missouri. That means that we could stay in the area that we're familiar with and with our support group. And Daddy's getting out this week! After twenty-five years in prison, he's getting out and we can do things with him and call him and a host of other things that most people take for granted.

So I bring it up with Alex and the rest of the group as a possibility. They refuse to discuss it for the longest time. Then I finally manage to get a conversation going only for it to be knocked back without consideration. I keep trying to find ways to counter the problems they are bringing it up, so that I can tell Daddy that we truly considered every option before turning it down. But halfway through I get cut off with the statement from Annie that things are established out there and I should just drop it.

Established means that things are permanent or settled...which means that things won't change. They are accepted as being valid.

I, like an idiot, denied that the separation was valid, that the situation was permanent. After all, didn't they plan to change things? That's when the cussing started and the name calling. Even when I explained what the word meant, they would not deny that what they are saying was true.

It all spiraled out of control. The next day, they had demanded most of the contingent to stop speaking with me, which they did. My queries into what was going on gained me only a demand that I stop childishly harassing people. Even worse, Alex still thinks that Annie is the best chance of getting out of the hole we are in, even though her story has been disproved and she decided that she didn't want to help anyway.

I've been so careful over the years to never tell him that he needed to decide between the girls and I, or something and/or someone else. Not only do I feel that doing so is unfair and childish, but I would rather not know for certain that I rank below something other than our girls. Thus I avoid the idea of forcing a choice.

But Annie, Kai, and Luna are forcing everyone to chose sides. One by one, all of the people that I have been trying to get to know have cut off communications with me except Raven and Alex. Who knows what tomorrow will hold?

I don't want to know where I rank.

I don't.

River

In the Darkness where I dwell
I can hear the river I know so well
It flows from my broken heart
In and out like waves that part
Cold fingers pierce my soul
Ripping and tearing what makes me whole
People speak and arrows flew
Who understands the tiny clue?
In my sorrow, I tempt Fate
Is it already too late?
Ties of blood are rivers too
Division makes from one two
I try so hard that I bleed
It's a sacrifice, and a plead
Upon deaf ears, it does fall
Like a dog, you do maul.
You steal and lie, portray a mask
You give an answer before the question's asked
You judge and jeer--It's justified
If you feel guilt at all, you'll just testify
Beware the stones that you throw
It's a glass house that you're owe
I live in my deep Darkness
With the shadows that I bless
I fear their cold but not their touch
I could teach you so much
But you are not a student, seeking knowledge
You are the master; this lie you pledge.
Listen to the river as she sings
Hear the popple of concentric rings.
The river flows within and out.
Ebbs and flows does its clout
I lay wounded in its flow
One beat, two, both are slow
In the Darkness where I dwell
The last I hear is the river's wail.

Useless Rant

I feel like I'm drowning.

I don't feel as namelessly heavy anymore. That's a good thing, right? Instead of that pressure upon my shoulders and heart, it's focused entirely on my head. I haven't slept without crying myself to sleep in a week and while my panic attacks have gone down, they have left me feeling like I have to be aware of everything.

It doesn't help that I know that this place isn't safe. The threats have already begun. They are mixed oh-so-causally into conversation. They are snapped in anger. "I'm going to rip the ears off your bunny (or head of your turtle)"; "I'm going jump on you when you're sleeping"; "I'm going to squirt dish soap into your mouth when you're sleeping"; "If you don't like it, you're free to leave, but the girls stay here"; "They're mine--I don't care about you."

Lynn tried to "spank" my daughters the other day. She thinks that spanking is just smack them on the butt until your hand gets tired or your anger is expelled. There's a procedure to it--they have got to understand why they are getting spanks (which is never more than a couple of smacks) and they have got to understand that they are still loved. Lynn doesn't listen to what I say. She thinks that she knows better without a lick of research to back her up. "It's what Mom does!"

Precisely.

Mom's method of discipline is to slap wherever she could reach until she was tired or not as angry anymore. She would scream insults at you as she did so. Things like "stupid brat" and "I'll teach you!" and "I'll take you down a notch." After the beating was over, she would order you to your room and to not come out until she said to. Even going to the bathroom was a punishable act. She was quite proud of "putting the fear of Mom" into us kids.

That's not how I want to raise my children. I don't want them to fear me and what I will do. I don't want them raised in fear and hate. I don't want them terrified to tell me something because I've told them that I would kill them or turn them out into the streets.

According to Lynn, I should stop including them in my rituals and stop teaching them about the Goddess because that stuff isn't real. She says that witches aren't human, and she does it at the top of her lungs in front of the girls. This after equating the word witch with child murderer. Then when I refused to let it go, she started hitting me upside the head and shoulders. According to my Mother, this is all just a difference of opinion and I should let it go.

According to PJ, I'm just a pathetic loafer who needs to admit that I know nothing about life and just get a job already. I should stop asking family for help and just do for myself. Never mind that I never ask for help for wants, only needs, and only as a last resort. PJ asked for help getting a tablet because she wanted it--not because she needed it as she had a perfectly fine laptop and top of the line iPhone. Oh, and I should just dump "that loser" and "get over" my "obsession with him" as if eleven and a half years of a committed relationship was a childish fantasy instead a marriage.

I just want to go home. Home to me means to Alex. Alex will keep me safe. He doesn't tell me that I'm fat or ugly or stupid. When I cry or panics, he holds me rather than laughs. I don't fear him. When I'm restless, he pets me until I'm calm again.

Or we'd go for a walk together with the girls and just talk. We walked a lot and not just because it was our mode of transportation. It was something to do to connect with each other. Everyone here either doesn't want to walk or they want to speed-walk or run. There are no meandering walks where things are savored instead of rushed; where the focus is conversation or to enjoy the weather instead of trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Oh, Mother of Mercy, how I miss him!

Some Family

The world is cruel.

It is doubly so if you are living your faith. The entire world seems out to tell you what you should believe, or think, or do. Everything would just get better if you would just be anyone else except who you are.

Then you stand up for yourself. You draw a line in the sand. After all, something has got to give, right? If you don't stand up for what you believe in, who will? If you don't, what kind of example would that set for your children?

My sister Lynn thinks that humans can't be witches. I discovered this after I corrected her when she used the label of my faith for a female unsub in Criminal Minds. She said it in a scoffing tone, as if it was so obvious that everyone knew it, as if the sheer ignorance of the statement did not occur to her at all.

Further correction revealed that she thought that passing down my faith was "forcing it upon the girls". All because I pray with them; because I include them in what I do; because I have discussed life and death with them. I live my faith. It is an every day thing for me. How can I not include my children?

What's more is she thinks that I was overreacting by correcting her. I was overreacting by being offended that my own sister was dehumanizing my children and myself; that she was saying that my daughters were on the same level as a child murderer.

And what does my mother say to it? We're both entitled to our opinions. Like it was a discussion about favorite colors instead of a discussion about the verbal abuse that Lynn had just performed upon my daughters.

Some family.

A Good Day

I had a good day today.

This is a marked improvement over most of my days lately. I was having an insomnia spell. For me that means that I both couldn't fall asleep and once there, I couldn't stay. I'm bipolar; insomnia is just a fact of life. I am also struggling with depression, something that I'm finding much different from my depressive cycle. The depression, almost ironically, is the only reason that I was getting any sleep at all.

But today was a good day.

It started with me going to sleep at the usual time. Instead of fighting to fall asleep, I dropped right off without any problems. For once, I had good dreams. My nightmares are frequent companions, but not last night. Last night, I slept deeply and peacefully straight through to my mother waking me before she left for work at five to watch the girls who she had woken a half hour previous.

I had a nice cuddle with both my daughters as we talked. The television was on Qubo though we were only paying half attention. Julia, my youngest, regaled me with a story about Detective Cat's adventures while Lilium colored a drawing from the packet of pictures that Amafo (my dad) sent her. It was a lazy morning, but aren't those the best kind?

After the girls were off to school, I came back and made coffee. I decided on a whim to experiment with cream and sugar again. You know, I can drink it black--some coffees I even prefer it that way. I can't even remember why I settled upon four teaspoons and so much creamer. Why not find my taste again? I'm thinking of getting a little jar with a lid that seals and another measuring spoon so that I have a hard number for the creamer. The Autumnal Equinox was yesterday. It is a good time for changing things.

I drank one cup while I did my Facebook rounds. Then I went for a walk around the track that's in the field across the street. I listened to yawns from the trees and their hushed voices reminded me that I don't do this near enough. I need to get out more--not just for the exercise that is study-proven to help with depression like I told my therapist when she asked why I wanted to include it in my treatment plan. I am Choctaw. My blood comes from the earth. My heart beats with its rhythms. Being out in nature is good for me. I need the reminder of what is a good flow.

I finished the assembly of Julia's kinnickkinnick bag. It's now prepped for decoration. I just need to get a different color of seed beads. I'm thinking of doing the edging in black, both for added protection on the bag and because Julia like black and red, which the bag already is due to the fabric. If I do the fringe edge in black and then use black thread to to the pinching afterwards, that would tie it all together. I may try to do a beaded end to the cord if I have time.

I went over to Grandpa's today. The excuse was I needed help filling out some paperwork to cash out my 401k, but that was quickly done and we just sat and talked for another two hours. I enjoyed that. We talked about Dad and his outdate. We talked about how difficult that was going to be for him and strategized ways to keep Daddy both from being overwhelmed and from being restless. We talked about my sister thinking she was white but not actually being so. We talked about religion and politics and how no one seems to remember their history. We talked about shows for our crafts and the little shop that Dad wants to open.

When I got home, I had a Dr. Pepper/Pepsi tea party with two girls, a turtle, a bunny, and an elephant. It was under an umbrella, of course. I helped Lilium with her writing skills while she chatted through Facebook with my mother who was about three feet away. I cooked a not-so-balanced dinner of saute chicken and brussel sprouts. It was tasty though. I love how rosemary and brussel sprouts go together.

Baths and then off to bed, where I should be going now as well.

Today was a good day.

Love Letter

Dear Alex,

I love you. You have asked me why. I'm going to tell you why.

You're perfect. Oh, you have flaws. I am not denying that, but they aren't really any worse than mine and they don't detract from your overall worth. That makes them sound like points. They aren't points. It's like building a character. The flaws you have keep you from being a Gary Stu. They make you uniquely perfect rather than a cookie cutter copy. They make you, well, you.

You don't care that I'm damaged. No, that's not it. You do care. You see the wounds upon my soul and you fill them with enamel. I can't remember the word at the moment, but that's what you do. You don't love me in spite of it or because of it. You accept it as a part of me. In your eyes, I am more beautiful for having been broken. Moreover, you repair the damage in such a way that I can see it as well.

You have never attempted to tear me down to make yourself seem better. Even in anger, you never fling cruel insults or name at me. If you don't agree with something I say or do, you let me know and we discuss it. I know that I'm not the best at doing the same and I apologize for that. I'm going to make more of an effort in the future. You deserve that. Thank you for bearing with me despite that.

I can't say that you have never hurt me, but I can honestly say that you have never intended to do so. I know that I have unintentionally hurt you as well, and I'm sorry for that. But these are not things either of us hang onto to drag out every time we have a small disagreement or even a larger fight. We discuss them, treating them as lessons, and then we move onward.

You have never threatened me in any way. Oh, I know that you have joked about withholding this or that. But it's nothing that would actually harm me. Your presence and affection are not leverage to get your way in an argument.

You listen when I speak, and more importantly, you understand me, even when I don't understand me. I can talk to you about anything. You'll understand, and even those times when you don't immediately, you ask me to explain, which I do. Always, you have some insight that I may have missed. Your advice is always invaluable to me.

I love being intimate with you. I am not talking about sex, though that is sometimes part of it. I love the feeling of connection, that baring of my soul. I can be myself completely with you. I love that you always treat it as precious as it is. You treat it as a trusted privilege instead of your just due. You have never abused that privilege. What is more awesome in my mind is the fact that you trust me to do the same. I hope that I never disappoint you in that regard.

When it comes to sex, you always take care of me first, even when I am not certain of what I want. I can trust you to respect hard boundaries and even uncertain boundaries without getting angry or impatient. You work with me on things, instead of dictating according to your whims.

And even though I act annoyed, I really love it when the day after we do something, you ask if I enjoyed it. It's not just because it reminds me that we did something really fun, but also because that opens the door for if there was something that I wanted to talk about, I could. And I know that you will listen, and understand.

I love that we are partners in everything. I don't want to say that you complete me. I am a whole person and don't need it. We both are. However, you compliment me in such a way, that I am less than I could be without you and I compliment you in the same way. We are bring out the best in each other.

I love you, my beloved, and I consider myself lucky to hold a place in your heart.

Yours,

Magi

He's Like the Wind

The Wind blows the season onward. Storms always come from the West. Cold comes from the North. Out of the South comes Warmth. It may be a soft breeze bringing the promise of spring. It may be the mighty gale of the tornado which leaves naught but destruction in its wake. The Wind blows. That is what it does.

People blow as well. A relationship could mean everything to them, enduring all...or it could mean nothing, constantly crumbling under the least amount of pressure. This goes for any relationship, familial, romantic, or platonic. Sometimes, they blow almost cyclically, always coming and going in a pattern that almost mimics the seasons.

That last kind has its own kind of pain, especially if you've given your all into the relationship. Eventually, you just accept that they leave. They are the Wind, constantly blowing onward and away from you.

The Wind is not harmless, but it is not evil. Neither are those Relations who are as fickle as the wind. They are just being themselves. Even when their words and actions wound, one must know that they are just being themselves. The Wind blows. That is what it does.

The thing about the Relation, though, is that it is a Person who can make choices. They can choose to say cruel things or throw fits. They can choose to decide that their pride is more important than the relationship that they have with you. They can choose whether to stay or go.

And you are responsible for your own protection as well. If the Wind is too much for you to bear, you have the choice of deciding whether you will expose yourself to it or how much you will. If you know that a tornado is coming, would you not take shelter? If the Wind brought the frost, would you not armor yourself with a coat?

If you knew that a Relation, however dear, was narcissistic and temperamental to the point of being emotionally abusive over the smallest of things, would you not learn to ignore their petty insults and demands for reparations for some imagined slight to their ego? Would you not let them go when they wished?

People make choices. The Wind does not. It just blows.

Survey

I found this on deviantArt when I was looking for something unrelated. It had been copied a couple of different times already and the original author had been lost. If this is yours, I apologize for using it without permission. ~Magi

Please describe briefly your Path. I am a pagan witch with strong shamanic leaning due to my Choctaw heritage and a father who is a pipekeeper. I am not a Wiccan.

Please describe briefly how you practice it. I practice my faith by praying to the Great Spirit, who I call mother or grandmother. I also send prayers to the spirits of the world and those of my ancestors. I ask them for guidance and lessons. As the need arises, I work energy towards various purposes. This is the very definition of witchcraft, making me a witch.

When did you first commit to your Path? I first committed to a pagan path October 15, 1994, but I had several leanings towards it before that from various family members.

How is your practice different now than it was then? I have grown so much, as a person, as a witch, as a Choctaw. I was a child then, with a child's understanding of faith. I am now an adult and I see things as an adult would do so.

Is your practice different today than how you thought it would be back then? I didn't do as much with it as I do now. This was mostly due to being unable to really practice due to living at home, a fact that is recurring now that I'm back living at home.

Does your Path and core belief system differ now than how it was when you first started? I follow a lot less of the Wiccan practices and a lot more of the Choctaw ones. Also my use of magick changed a lot after living with my great-grandmother for a while. There's a lot of my practices that I picked up from her despite the fact that she was very firm on not being a witch and instead being a good Christian woman.

What is your heritage and how does this inform your Path? I am Choctaw and of the Little Creek Clan. My father speaks of the Clan as traditionalists who managed to preserve our heritage against great odds. This makes me desire to help preserve their legacy for my own children.

What are your main influences for your Path? My greatest influence is definitely my intuition. I feel my way through magick letting my fingers work without forcing them to do so. I find that some of my strongest magick is done when I am buried deep in the Now of it.

Which do you do more: practice or research? At the moment, I do a lot of research and writing my interpretations down in my grimoire. I think in my grimoire, I only have one or two spells. The rest are recipes, chants/songs, or journal entries about various things. I'm currently in the process of trying to digitize the entries. It's been slow going.

Do you feel that one is more important than the other? They both have their place and purpose. And they are also very similar. They both help you grow in faith and power. You learn by doing. You learn by talking with Elders and Wicca. You learn by being exposed to new ideas or old ideas in new lights. What may define you today may not work tomorrow.

What values and ethics are important on your Path and in your practice? I really feel that taking responsibility for oneself is the greatest value. You are responsible for what you put out into the world. You can put forth truth and honor, or you can put forth more spew. It's really is your choice, but remember that energy moves in spirals. It will come back to you. Maybe not a nice tidy amount either. The longer it takes to get to you, the worse the fallout will be when it does happen.

What sort of cycles do you feel your practice goes through? It spirals with the year. The summer is usually used for pushing forward in learning while the winter is used for reflection on the things that I learned. There is some of each in the other season, but majorly that is how it goes.

What is one of the greatest obstacles or struggles you have had to overcome? My need to please people is perhaps my greatest struggle. There are certain people in my life who would like me to be other than what I am faithfully. This is sometimes through either misunderstanding or blind acceptance of their faith's absolutism doctrine. Other times, it is just their need to be in control of a situation. I dislike having people upset with me, so I try to please them, inevitably failing. Staying true to myself is a lesson that I more than occasionally have to relearn.

How do you see yourself practicing in ten years? I can't see that far ahead. I know that there are things that I want to have done by then. I want to have studied more of the Choctaw traditions. I want to have learned more about herbs. I want to have made a smudge bowl out of Catlinite that I have dug with my own hands. I want to have opened up my pagan supply store/pagan community center.

How do you incorporate your practice into your life? I like to start the day with a smudge and end it with prayer. I incorporate little things into my day. I sing. I live in the Way.

Has walking your Path changed you as a person? I feel strengthen as a person and uplifted by my faith. It is a mirror with which I can see myself.

Do you consider yourself to be a priest/ess? How so? I do not consider myself clergy. I would love to serve, but I cannot afford to do so. I found a place where I could get a degree in Theology focusing on the pagan theology, but i cannot get back and forth from it.

A witch? How so? I am a witch as I practice witchcraft. That is all the term means.

A shaman? How so? I am not a shaman. Nor am I a pipekeeper or drumkeeper. I have not been called to serve the People in that way.

Which matters more: getting the vocabulary right or the actual practice of what we are trying to define? They are actually very tied together. You cannot call yourself Wiccan and not keep their traditions. If you are going to claim a label, at least make sure that it is the correct one. There are expectations among pagans that come along with a label. There's enough misconception going through the practitioners from other faiths with confusing them by lying about what you are.

One of the most profound things anyone ever said to you was: "You are only as good as your honored word. If your word is nothing, then so are you." ~My father, in explanation why he never admitted guilt for a crime that he did not do when it would have been easier to just go along with what people demanded of him.

A defining moment on your Path was: When I gave my first child up for adoption because I weighed her needs against my wants, my heart broke. It was best for her at the time. I was just a kid. The pain of that, of letting a piece of my soul go into someone else's care, it really opened my eyes to the duality of everything. I was broken by that, but my Mother's quiet love was there for me through the healing process. I really understood the meaning of sacrifice.

Have you ever taken a "leap of faith"? I'm in the middle of one right now. Moving to Kentucky after living the vast majority of my life in the same three miles radius.

Please tell us something stupid, reckless, or embarrassing you did once in your practice: I really can't think of anything that I've done that would be described as that in my practice. But you don't live to be twenty-eight without doing something foolish, I think.

What is the most frustrating thing about your Path? This is going to be really upsetting to some people, but the kooks. You know the ones--they are more for the Hollywood version of everything than the actual truth of it. The pretenders also annoy me. If you aren't following any of the traditions of a path, do not claim it. You are only sowing confusion. I can deal with the elitists, mostly by rolling my eyes, but if you are showing willful ignorance, I just want to smack you.

Have you ever been frightened? Well, ain't this random... um, yes, several times throughout my life. I'm arachnophobic, so I near-enough have a heart attack every time I see one. My youngest fell out a window when she was two and a half; I have never been so scared in my life. I prayed so hard that day. Also there was a time when a group of "concerned" teenagers had me cornered and was threatening me with a cherry bomb if I didn't "repent" of my "sins".

Can you perform ritual without a script? Well, yes and no. If I am learning a new ritual, I enjoy having a script, but once I've learned it, I usually use it a lot.

Have you ever performed spontaneous magick/spellcraft? Oh, all the time. I am energy. Energy is me. How could I not?

What are you still exploring or experimenting with? I am constantly exploring my faith, and growing and learning new things.


What (or whom) are you the most committed to in your practice and on your Path? I worship and pray to the Great Spirit in a maternal form most often. I call her: Mother of All, She of Many Names, The Faceless One, Honored Mother, She Who Was First and Will Be Last, the Lady of Light, the Mistress of Mercy, Queen of Heaven, Mother Earth, Sister Moon, Lady of Life, Oceana, Gaia, Rhiannon, She Who Wields the Life Sickle, Scythe-Bearer, Dark Lady, The Star-Mantled One, Wise One, Dark One, The Forever Child, The Endless... I really could go on forever.

Ritual tools are ... anything that you use in a ritual. It is usually set aside for the specific use and kept sacred, but ultimately they are just foci of energy.

Magickal tools are ... anything that you use in a magickal working. See above answer for details.

The one thing you can't do without is: well, for a tangible answer, I would have to say my grimoire. I write down my observations about the world and the things that I learn. It is a record of how far that I've come and it is my legacy to my daughters.

Seeking personal power is ... fine. You might hear that it is frowned upon or is taboo, but ultimately, it will happen. What you have to understand that true power comes from living up to your potential and always striving forward in your endeavours, whatever they are.

Politics and your Path are … totally unrelated. I am a firm believer in the separation of church and state. When you mix religion with policy, you get problems. It does not matter what religion it is. It's just bad. Look at what is happening now. Thank you, Democrats, for making this an issue.

One thing you wish people would understand about your Path and/or practice is ... that there is nothing wrong with it. I am touched by your concern for my well being, but I don't follow your religion because it does not work for me. I have learned how to think, not what to think like you. And yes, atheism is a religion. I worked for the government. Bald is indeed a hair color. Get over it.

Do you teach? I will teach any who are willing to learn from me for however long they wish to learn from me and on any topic with which I am familiar, even some that I am not. We could learn together.

What do you feel is the role of clergy in modern Paganism and Heathenism? The role of clergy is really the same in all religions, I think. They should be teachers and guides. You come to them to learn from them. They have made their lives about learning and communicating with the Esoteric Realm. They do this for the People, to help the People in their way.

When the Veil (or Hedge!) is thin, how does that feel to you? The Veil is the barrier not just between the Spirit Realm and the Material Realm, but between Order and Chaos. When the Veil gets thin, madness becomes the norm. It is the time for destroying the ways that do not serve us and forging new habits. You are no longer fixed; you are flowing like water, blowing like air. It is the time to reflect and communicate.

What entities do you work with most? (ancestors, gods, fae etc.) I would have to say that I work with the Great One the most, but I do a lot of work with individual guardian spirits.

What is your relationship with the Land? It is one of the bodies of my Mother. From it, I was born and to it, I shall return.

The most important aspect of ritual is ... the feeling of oneness with Deity. You really should feel that connection.

The main purpose of ritual is ... to make a spiritual connection with Deity. You may petition Her help or thank Her for helping you. You may unburden yourself to Her.

What is the purpose of divination/dowsing (or whichever form of augury you use)? I prefer using Roma methods such as cards or palmistry as my method of reaching the right state. It gets very tiring to do it a lot in one sitting.

What was the most difficult book you ever read? (Either difficult to understand or hard to face what it said or both)? Speaking of spiritual literature only, I have difficulty stomaching anything by DJ Conway. She just comes off with this know-it-all attitude while getting several things wrong. Grrr. Then she ignores basic safety measures! Please, everyone, practice Safe Magick!

What book do you recommend the most to others? Paganism: An Introduction to Earth-Centered Religions by Joyce and River Higginbotham is a great starting place for your research. I consider this a must-have book for all pagans and theology students.

What is your favourite podcast (if any) and favourite blog (other than your own)? I really dig In the Words of the Urban Crone. I have met her personally and she's really like that. So I follow her in several locations now. She's just awesome.

If you could impart only one last piece of wisdom or knowledge, or share one experience with the world at large, what would it be? All relationships come down to two things: communication and trust. This is all relationships: platonic, familial, romantic, and spiritual. Any relationship can survive a temporary breakdown of one or the other, but if one of them is missing, the relationship is irreparably broken until it is restored. Jealousy is a sign that trust is gone. It is not healthy and has no place in a relationship.

Do you face any challenges from people who don't understand or agree with your path, and if so, what do you do about them? I get this a lot and it really varies with the relationship that you have with the person. What it boils down to, however, is the person you are dealing with has to be willing to learn. If they aren't, it doesn't matter if they are your parent or beloved sibling. The relationship has broken. It hurts to admit that some times, but sometimes Truth wounds us as we cling to the False Dream.

Is there an additional question you would like to see here? What is it? (please also answer)

"Do you have any suggestions for those seeking a spiritual change to a pagan paths?"

Really make sure that you're doing it for the right reasons. If you come into the pagan community for the wrong reasons, you aren't going to get much out of it. It's as simple as that. This isn't Harry Potter or Charmed. Magic doesn't work like that.

"Do you have any warnings for new Seekers?"

Paganism is a minority religion. There's a lot of misunderstandings about it and a lot of people who want to cling to those misunderstandings. You aren't going to be able to change everyone's mind. Learning when to walk away will be necessary.

Wounded

I have been confronted once again about how different the world is from my viewpoint to my family's viewpoint. It's been little things up to this point. This last incident was rather intense and it has taken a few days to gain the emotional distance necessary to analyze what went wrong. I'm still not entirely certain.

I will explain.

My youngest sister is not the most intelligent of people. This would be excusable if she had some kind of learning disability. Lynn doesn't. She just refuses to accept new information unless it supports her status quo, which currently consists of playing video games all day. She sees no reason to attempt to do anything with herself. She has been surviving because she hasn't left home yet. She hasn't sought a college education, not because she can't afford it (the Pell Grant was made for someone in her situation), but because she simply doesn't want to do so.

 This is so far removed from my viewpoint of always learn something new that I can't comprehend it. I have to know what something is and why it is like it is. I have to have the correct name for it. If someone tells me something that I didn't know, I ask "really?" and verify it as soon as possible.

Wednesday evening, I asked Lynn to send me the URL of a page that I had up on the main computer so that I could bring up the page on the laptop. She didn't know what that was. After I explained what I wanted, she called it a barcode. I pointed out that it wasn't actually called that and she dismissed it. When I pointed out that knowing that was kind of necessary to function, my other sister PJ exploded at me.

How dare I call Lynn names? Some people just have difficulties understanding information! When I pointed out that I wasn't calling Lynn anything other than willfully ignorant, I got a lecture about how I should love her because she's family. Needless to say that my explanation about it being my love that made me want to see Lynn better herself was met with a scathing review of how hypocritical it was of me to say that when I had to move back in with Mother after refusing to get a job and now spend most of my time on the computer, ignoring my daughters.

Never mind that I spend most of my computer time filling out applications with frequent breaks for the girls' needs. All of which PJ does not see due to her not living with Mother. Never mind that I frequently look things up for the girls. (They miss my stones almost as much as I do and looking up "pretties" is a frequent event. Both girls also love to play Minecraft and watch videos about it on Youtube. There's one that Lilium loves called Minecraft Oasis. She has a file named that on ours now. She spelled oasis as ouases. That's really close for a seven-year-old.)

PJ finished by saying that God loves us just as we are and my expectation of change was selfish and wrong. Then she stormed out. (She got waylaid at the door by my youngest showing her a picture. At least she wasn't stupid enough to snap at my baby. It might have come to blows.)

I was angry at first. Then the hurt made itself known. I have been trying so hard to keep everything together. There were times that I really had felt like I could not sink any lower only to find the ground sliding out beneath me again. It is impressive if I go an entire day without a panic attack or a crying spell. Or worse: disassociation. I have difficulty focusing and remembering things. Everything is becoming fuzzy, which is a stress in and of itself. To have a family member dismiss all my efforts so readily... it hurt.

Why can't they see? Why don't they understand? Why am I so different? What is so wrong with me that I cannot fit into my family?

It broke my heart and stabbed me with the shards of it. The wounds may be invisible, but they still bleed.

10 Small Things to Improve Your Writing

1) Use a word processor that has the spell check function. If said word processor also checks your grammar that is awesome. Neither of these things will complete replace the need for education, but they can help train you so that you don’t make the mistakes as well as they can catch things that a human misses during a read through of the pieces. Just remember that the program cannot adjust for new words and nonstandard turns of phrase. It is a machine. It is not capable of abstract thought.
2) Locate a Dictionary. In fact, find a few. A writer uses words as a painter does color. Utilizing a word processor that has spell check is great, but the dictionary it uses is never complete. The dictionary is a multitasking tool. Not only can a writer look up words of which he is uncertain, but he may also use it to verify that he did use an actual word and that he spelled it correctly. Before you start complaining about the cost, listen to this: both the Merriam-Webster and the Oxford dictionaries are online and accessible for no charge.
3) Locate a Thesaurus. Repetition of words is boring. That’s where a thesaurus comes in handy. They give you other possibilities to say essentially the same thing. Just be sure to double check the definition with a dictionary or you may end up implying something that you may not have intended.
4) Locate a Grammar text. A grammar text is a supplement to a normal course book for college English classes. It is a comprehensive book that has all the punctuation rules, sentence structures, essay structures, citation rules, and formatting standards. The best way to find one of these is to ask your local college or university for the required books for English 101. The grammar text is usually the smaller one of the two books to which you are referred. Yes, this can get a bit pricey. However, the investment is always worth it.
5) Read. This rule used to be read everything, but the popularity of Facebook,
Twitter, and blogging have murdered that idea. It was a triple homicide with the other victims being grammar and spelling. Now it has been amended with the word well. A good rule of thumb is reading professionally published pieces such as books, newspapers, and magazines. If the piece was published professionally, then it is usually a good assumption that it has gone through an editor at some
point. That being said, even bad writing can provide helpful insight into what you are doing wrong in your own writing. Proceed with caution.
6) Do a cold read of your work. Every writer should know by now to proofread their work. This will catch a lot of mistakes that get made in the primary draft. A cold read is coming back to the piece at a later time, after your brain has had time to release its concept of what is being conveyed so that it can see what is actually being said.
7) Read your work aloud. I don't know how many times I have found missing words, sentences that didn't agree with each other, or other places where things just didn't make sense. I wouldn't have found those things if I hadn't read the piece aloud. Sometimes, it's a case of something just not sounding right. This is also useful for finding where you want to put an inflection and for writing accents.
8) Find a secondary reader. This person can be anyone. They don't even have to be good at spelling or grammar, though that would definitely be a big help. The second pair of eyes looking through your piece will help. No matter how many times you read through it, there are always those things that you will miss. Writers are still human and humans make mistakes. It is a fact. This secondary reader also serves another purpose: they can help you identify those places where the story lags or where the description didn't come across clearly.
9) Learn effective research tactics. No matter how knowledgeable you are on your chosen topic, there will always be something to look up for your piece. It could be verifying the spelling of wristwatch or it could be the process to remove gunshot residue from skin and clothing. Research will be needed. Knowing how to find what you are looking for efficiently will reduce the amount of time spent on research, thus increasing the amount of time spent on actually writing.
10) Write. The old adage about practice makes perfect is very accurate when it comes to writing. The more you write, the better your writing will be. Writing is one of those things that you learn best by doing. There are plenty of sites that offer writing prompts and exercises if you are lacking in ideas at first.

Noticing

There are certain things that one does not realize about one's family until one has lived on their own and then returns. These things are not usually obvious things. They are little, probably insignificant.

My mother doesn't like coffee. Oh, she drinks it, at least, on occasion. However, she only drinks it for the caffeine that it contains, not for the rich flavor or soothing warmth. To her, it is merely a means to an end.

Thus when I start talking about how I like dark roasts over the lighter roasts, I get a roll of the eyes and a patronizing "whatever" as if my mother was fourteen rather than nearly forty-five. I cannot discuss the virtues of creamers with her nor can I discuss how using brown sugar affects the flavor. She doesn't care.

Another thing that I have noticed is my mother doesn't care about tea. It is sun tea season here in the Midwest. I love making up a pitcher full of the delicious liquid. I have passed on this tradition to my girls as well.

My older daughter especially likes to pick out the tea that we will brew from my collection. We never truly have the same combination, I think. One time we would have a minty wild berry zinger with extra blueberry; another time we would have a ginger "dragon" tea that zaps tension. Then we put it out in the sun for just the right amount of time. My girls  like watching the tea as it brews. It is rather cool, I will admit.

My mother, however, doesn't pay attention to her brewing tea. She leaves it out for hours, wanting to make it as dark as she can make it. The result is often bitter and tastes very strongly of tannins. She has exactly one kind of tea, standard black. Her exact words were "why does anyone need more than that?" when I mentioned it to her.

Yes, these are little things. Yes, they probably don't matter in the grand scheme of things. It still stands that they are something that I had gotten used to that I do not have any longer.

I really want David to get this job so that our family can be reunited.

Pouring Rain

While we were packing, both mine and Alex's computers suffered malfunctions in the power supplies. Alex assures me that he can fix Meredith (his computer), but my E-Machine is a wash. We managed to save all the files for my writing, but not any of my picture files from Charon (my computer).

So I have my writings, but not my situational maps. This makes it difficult to figure out blocking, so I will have to redo them. Blocking is very important, and if I've learned anything from my gaming it's that maps are a vital part of that process.

Luckily, Alex transferred my files onto his laptop which he left with me. So I have my writings and a dedicated computer. Internet is a bit iffy due to the fact that my mother's does not have wi-fi. The ether net cord that connected the laptop (it really needs a name, doesn't it?) to the wired network died unexpectedly. That might be for the best though, as I'm prone to being distracted by online activities such as reading or cruising Facebook. Cor, my favorite dictionaries are all online, so not being connected to the internet is a double-edged blade.

I need to get back in the habit of writing every day. With the chaos of the last month, I've been dealing with stress more than writing. The stress of trying to maintain my own household is over, for now, but unfortunately, I now have the stress of living with my mother and youngest sister.

That's a whole different kettle of fish.

The Start of a Journey

Circumstances sometimes happen very quickly and they always have the potential of changing our lives in dramatic ways. Sometimes one needs to leave home and everything they knew in order to find something better. This is a story that gets repeated so often that it is considered to the basis of the epic tale. There's entire books written on The Hero's Journey. It is a good solid format to follow for a story.

It is also the current definition of my life.

Daddy told me that I needed to move forward in my life, to stop settling. I have settled for surviving for so long that I'm not certain I can do that. My family has always been a phone call away. Hellfire and brimstone, aside from about a year and a half when we lived with my mother-in-law and her fiance and the three months Grandpa and I lived in KC, all nearly twenty-eight years of my life has been in the same three mile radius. The idea of changing that is, frankly, terrifying.

I love my girls and I would do anything for them, but risk would seem less terrifying if I didn't have to think about their welfare first. I look at them and I see so much potential. I want to give them the world. I want them to have the opportunities that I did not. I know my mother felt the same way about us kids, and probably still does.

I don't want to move. So many things are happening here that I feel I want to be a part of: Daddy getting released, my disability claim, PJ buying a house, Spiral Scouts starting a troop in KC... I have a life here. But I can't survive without funding. To get funding either Alex or I need a job that pays decently.

We have reached the point of something had to change. Something had to give. We can't continue here.

Thus we will be moving from Missouri to Kentucky. It's happening faster than I would like. Alex will be leaving on the first with most of our stuff. The girls, Johnny, and I will be staying with my mother while we wait to hear back on my disability claim as well as for Alex to get settled into the new place and the new job.

I don't deal with moves well at the best of times. Alex calls me his beloved tree because I don't transplant well. This in no way counts as the best of times.

Seriously, does anyone have a million dollars that they are willing to just give over to me? Alex and I have a budget for what we can do with a million dollars. That's a house, a car, college for all four of us, and trust funds for the girls.

Barring that, does anyone have the numbers of the five white balls for Saturday's Powerball drawing?

Strange Trolls

I am a witch. This should come as no surprise to anyone reading this, considering the name of the blog. I usually don't make a huge deal about it. That being said, I do not make any move to hide it either. My Facebook page has it featured in the public details that anyone can see and a fair number of my posts reflect it.

Despite the diversity of religions featured amongst my Friend list, this has never truly been a problem. If we see something that offends us, we all just scroll past unless it is factually wrong such as an assumption that witches worship Satan or that Christians eat babies. If we do have a problem, we discuss the issue, sometimes ad nauseam. There is certainly a great deal of sarcasm and most of the time nothing is truly resolved despite the amount of words used.

My family has our issues, but we work. We've learned the hard way what happens when we don't. It used to be far worse; we had too many trees and not enough reeds. No one bent except to break.

The problem seemed to be when we started branching out from our family to include others on our Friend Lists. You know how it happens if you have a Facebook account. Everyone starts to include friends and associates from their widely varied activities. A friend of your mother's ex-partner's current partner has a back and forth with you on something and next thing you know, said individual has sent you a Friend Request. You enjoyed the conversation, so you accept the Request.

That's my story.

The problem that I had with him was that his decision to not scroll by and to make derogatory comments on my pagan posts. He mocked the concept that there could be a universal patterns, call it superstition. I asked him to just scroll by if he was going to spout of ignorance on my Wall. He tried to say that arguing was an excellent way to educate himself. I further suggested that he learn to do research instead and even gave him several topics with which he could begin. Arguing doesn't solve anything after all; if you want exposed to new ideas, learn to discuss things. He likened me to a Young Earth Creationist and maintained that arguing was best. He was under the impression that he was being very open-minded.

I ended up having to unfriend him. That was after going back and forth with him for about an hour, his tone becoming more belligerent as we went. It became obvious that he was more after proving that he was right than he was discussing anything.

Is nowhere safe from trolls?

Presumption

We are saturated with news. It seems like there’s some new tragedy every day, some new horror story of Man’s crime against his fellows. We see it on the television. It’s on the plethora of news sites, and in our Feeds. We can’t escape it.

Since we are cornered by it, we must react to it. We cry. We mourn the victims, especially the children. We get angry. We demand justice. We demand legal protections against this happening again. We bicker and argue over every nuance that we can find, and some that we get from the imagination of fictional prose authors.

Then the news reports that the police are looking for someone in connection to the event. The police media correspondent uses words like “person of interest” and “possible suspect”. Within five minutes, we are posting pictures of this person using words like “freak”, “bastard”, “monster”, and “piece of filth”. We are posting demands for the person to be “fed into a wood chipper”, “drawn and quartered”, “hung from the tallest tree”, and “burned alive”.

I have another issue with that last one, but we can come back to that.

Who here remembers the Fifth Amendment? I’m looking for its exact wording, not the summary from Born Yesterday, and pretty much every single crime show out there. It has a lot going on in it, so I don’t blame you. I’ve looked it up for you though.

“No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.”

How about the Sixth Amendment? I’ve got that one as well. Be mindful of the British spelling in the last sentence.

“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.”

What you have above is the basic outline for our criminal justice system. It has long been held that our criminal justice system also upholds the principle from the common law of the time of our founding. This being namely Ei incumbit probatio qui dicit, non qui negat, or rather, “The proof lies upon the one who affirms, not the one who denies”. The Supreme Court upheld this assumptive interpretation of the Fifth and Sixth Amendments in their ruling for Coffin v. United States, 156 U.S. 432 (1895). That is where we first see the phrase “presumption of innocence”. In layman terms, we have a system based on the principle of “innocent until proven guilty”.

You want to know what this means? It’s really quite simple. I almost don’t want to spell it out for you, because you are sure to think I’m taking the mickey out of you for doing so.

It means that until a person has been convicted by an impartial jury of their peers under due process of law, they are considered innocent under the law. Terribleness of the crime does not matter. Ethnicity does not matter. Religion does not matter. Suspicious activity caught on camera does not matter. Resisting arrest does not matter. Until the foreman of the jury pronounces them guilty, they are innocent.

With that out of the way, I would like to discuss the Eighth Amendment.  This one is really short. However, I know a lot of people who can only tell me the last half of it, so I’m quoting again.

“Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.”

Justice William Brennan defined cruel and unusual punishments in his ruling on Furman v. Georgia, 408 U.S. 238 (1972). He listed four principles with which we may determine if a punishment was cruel or excessive. He has some good ones, and they are as follows: a punishment by its severity degrading to human dignity, especially torture; a punishment obviously inflicted in wholly arbitrary fashion; a punishment clearly and totally rejected throughout society; and one that is patently unnecessary.

Let’s assume that you don’t need to have the arbitrary nature of the demanded punishments pointed out to you. Let’s assume that you know they are degrading. We’ll even assume that you know that getting creative with a criminal’s death is rather unnecessary.

Do you know how many states allow death by burning? If you answered zero, you are correct. Do you know how many states allow death by drawing and quartering? Yes, the answer is the same. I’m not touching death by wood chipper, but how about death by hanging? There are a grand-whooping two, both of which have it as a secondary method only. Washington does it only for an inmate who chooses it.

I don’t know about you, but I consider that clearly rejected throughout society.

I understand that you are angry. I understand that you are hurting. I understand that you want to get even with the perpetrator of whatever crime is making headlines at the moment. I really, really do. Trust me when I say that I find the molestation of a child, sexual assault of anyone, and massacres as horrendous as you do.

However, when we allow ourselves to become blinded by our desire for revenge we become blind to justice. When we become blind to justice that is when it gets lost. When injustice becomes law, rebellion becomes duty.

Justice is blind. You shouldn’t be.

Writer's Journey

I am a writer.

To me, these are not simply empty words. This is how I see myself. I have other labels that I apply to myself, but if someone were to ask me what I was, the first thing that would come to mind is that.

I am a writer.

I do not truly remember when I made the decision to become one. It has always been a part of me. I wrote about as much as I read. I made up stories to entertain my siblings and my cousins. I collected quotations and trivia. I had enough books that it was hard to navigate my room because they spilled over every surface of the room. Every scrap of paper was a canvas for the words and thoughts that spilled out of me like water overflowing from a cup.

I do remember the first person to ever use the word writer to describe me. Mrs. Summers wasn't even speaking to me. She was speaking with the Arts teacher, Miss Mac. Miss Mac said that I had a way with words and Mrs. Summers agreed with a casual "she's quite the little writer". I wonder if Mrs. Summers knew the effect that those words would have upon my impressionable fourth grade self.

I wrote my first complete story that year. It was flat and juvenile. I was disappointed in it even as I felt pride in the accomplishment of finishing it. I wanted the polished edge that my favorite authors had in the books that I devoured. I checked out books on writing from the library and devoured them just the same as I had the fiction ones. I took notes and did the exercises suggested. I convinced my grandmother to get me a grammar text for Christmas and set about memorizing the rules therein.

I wrote so many stories, each just a bit better than the last. Each one was just a bit longer. The characters were just a bit more substantial. I learned just a bit more. I saved up and bought a typewriter secondhand, but then I couldn't afford the paper for it. Then the library gained computers that had free usage. They even had free typography lessons! It got even better when my middle school offered the classes as well. Typing out a story was so much easier than having to rewrite it every time that I wanted to edit a scene.

There were a couple of times that I tried giving it up. After all, writing was something that I had done as a child and one must grow up eventually. Each time I would find myself scribbling down an idea or telling someone about a story that would be interesting to read. I found myself writing a scene out in my journal or stringing together words in a lyrical format.

I tried giving up on my writing. It never gave up on me.

I write because I can't not write. I'm a writer because I write. I have my own quirks and foibles. I have what is most likely an unhealthy coffee addiction. I have more dictionaries than are probably necessary. I have my little rituals for writing.

I am a writer.

Why am I Doing This?

My father suggested that I start a blog because I'm passionate about writing. I think that he's been watching too many movies. He countered with I just need to move forward on everything. He doesn't want me to settle for anything. Those were his words: "don't settle for anything."

I know that the accusation has merit. I have been settling. I settled for a job that I eventually grew to hate because it was a nice stable paycheck that covered my bills. I had beaten the odds, after all: a person with bipolar disorder who had held a job for longer than six months. Never mind that I felt its tedium almost immediately, I had managed not to be fired for not being able to focus or keep track of all the little nuances that it entailed. I settled.

Then they fired me for not being able to keep track of all the little nuances that it entailed.

I was crushed. I tried to find positives about it and succeeded for the most part. The environment had been really stressful, especially the last few months since my faith came out to the team at large. Well, that was over. I had been only seeing Lily three days a week. Hey, now I could see her every day and read both the girls bedtime stories!

But there was no way I could afford a house now, not that I really could before. I didn't qualify for a loan on my own, due to having no credit score. If someone tells you that having no credit is better than having bad credit, laugh at them. There are programs for people with bad credit; there are procedures. If you have no credit, then the only answer you will hear is "no thank you".

I spend months applying for every job I came across and each one gave me one of three answers: "you are not qualified", "we cannot accommodate you", or horrible silence. If people were hiring, it didn't matter because they weren't hiring me.

I even applied for disability, something that I've been staving off for years. I didn't want to be one of those statistics. I want to work. I enjoy being useful. I just need to be able to shift freely between tasks and be able to call in sick occasionally. Between the migraines and the down cycle, I'm not always fit for work.

I spam out my resume to every available job in my vicinity. I can't drive (my meds give me random dizzy spells, so it isn't safe), so my vicinity is limited to my immediate area. As months passed without a job, I branched out after a promise from friends and family that we'd work something out. I started duplicating job applications. Still, I received nothing for my efforts.

Now I've exhausted my unemployment benefits. Well, it's nice to know that I no longer statistically matter. Unemployment is now down just a tad bit more.

The last of my benefits went to rent this month--rent that my landlady is claiming that she didn't receive. Considering that she's also claiming that I falsified documents when I moved in (because she cannot find the private government facility that I worked at), I'm not prone to believe her. She didn't know what the Department of Homeland Security was when I moved in, and still didn't understand when I tried explaining why I didn't know the address. I have my doubts about this woman's intelligence.

Come to think of it, this place was settling as well. We had to move out of the tiny apartment that we had been living in before this place, and this place was right down the street and accepted our cat. Alex saw it, and the landlady didn't require any kind of application. We were signing papers within twenty-four hours of calling her.

Sure, there was only two grounded plugs in the entire place, and it was wired extremely oddly--oh, and I mustn't forget issues with the plumbing or the driveway--the point is that it was a roof over my family's head. That was a good thing. Yeah, it was close to the maximum of what I could afford, but it was an entire house with a large yard to ourselves. Plus, it was easy walking distance to an elementary school! Really, it's a steal.

Except now, it's over.

None of our friends or family are able to take all of us. The family that I had fought so hard to forge (eleven years with the same person--take that, statistics!) will be forced to separate in order to survive. The girls and I will be moving in with my mother while Alex will be on his own.  I don't even want to think about it, but I can't think of anything else. Every statistic is against us. We started out young, and both from single parent homes. I have bipolar disorder, a very severe case. I have tried so very hard to do the impossible.

And now...and now, it's all falling apart.

Dad says that I have plenty to blog about between all the things that have happened to me and my family. I just need to pick one. How does one pick only one facet of themselves? Do you pick your family? Or your disability? Or is faith more important? Should I chronicle my misfortune in every depressing detail, so that others may be miserable with me?

Then I came across a post on Facebook about every writer having a unique voice.

So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to move forward in my own way, with my own voice. I may not be heard amongst the din of others shouting, but at least I will have said my piece.

I will settle for that.