Well, Now I Have Confirmation On This…

“You’re not writing,” were the first words the Madman said when I realized he was around.

I propped the journal on my knees, trying to be sure that I’d heard him correctly–this was the first I’d seen him in weeks.  I had asked him about the devotional project I had done last year–should I do it again with this fallow time I was in?

“Yes, but this–” He interrupted me before I could say would get me back into it.

“You’re not writing at all,” the Madman repeated.  “You’re not writing any casual poetry, no short stories…nothing.”  I saw concern in his silver eyes.  “Honey, you’re trying to live more in this world, and doing a month of consecutive devotional writing would be the opposite of that goal.”

“Living in this world is hard.”  I placed the journal aside and put my face in my hands.  “I’ve been using Darkness as…an escape, an excuse, and now that I’ve been cut off, it’s making me face that all of…this…has been going on for years.”  I indicated the journal entries I’d done on realizing how shitty my mental health had become.

“If you do write for me, examine your motivation for doing so.”

“Don’t use it to try and get my connection with Darkness back, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“…I’m torn between thanking you, and yelling at you.”

He shrugged.  “You wouldn’t be the first, my dear.”


While doing a tarot reading yesterday, my Otherworld Self showed up.  He gave me a Talk about putting myself first, which ended in Him yelling at me when I asked about my connection to the Otherworlds.  According to Him, the fallow time is continuing until I actually get help for my mental health “and don’t do it just so you can get your connection back, do it because it’s impacting literally every area of your life now” was essentially what He said to me.

So that’s where things stand now, that I’m cut off from the Otherworlds until my mental health clears up.  I had a feeling that was the case, but now I have confirmation from multiple sources.

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No Sorrowful Bonds

TW for implied suicidal ideation in this poem.


Nowhere I would go without you,
only my mind is now a prison, hosting
shadows of unstable memories, and it is
only now that I’m beginning to see the
rotten foundation that has been lurking.
Roses be damned, I am nothing but thorns.
Other worlds are not my Home, but an escape;
what tragedy happened so young that I started
falling into my own mind, and could not stop it?
Useless is what my mind whispers to me, this
life Here is nothing, is but a shadow of things to come.
Blind King, be merciful, help me view this world through
ordinary eyes.  I have escaped too long, Home is this life, and
nearly every day now I feel closer to a breakdown.  I have
died to myself to the point I do not know who I am, and every
sunrise is a shock that I’m still living.  Please, bring me back to Light.

Venting About Mental Health Through Poetry

“Be yourself,” the worst advice for me;
for all my life I have panicked and
will still freeze up at those words.

There is something wrong,
only I don’t know what, just
that I can’t focus or stay in the present
without my mind screaming that I’m failing

everything I ever tried; that I’ve been an
awful person and can’t remember it, that
everyone is reading my mind and can see
how horrible I really am.  Even sitting Here
in the living room alone, I’m feeling unreal.

I’m terrified that my Other Self is Someone I
created out of trauma, that He is not the Otherworld
reflection of me, but is instead caused only by grief,
pain, and having to repress my interests and feelings.

I have no uplifting ending for this, just that I am feeling
lost, am dissociating more often, and it’s fucking terrifying;
what do I have to do to get help, have an actual breakdown??

For Jake

I am not able to sing your songs
but I can wrap you in your silver
robes when your hands shake
too badly to do it yourself.

I will be there for you even when
your faith falls silent, my love,
as you have been there for me.

We met when everything was
tumbling down, when my past was
being torn into the light.  You held my
hand as my other Loves had to step away

and for that I love you.  You kept me grounded
as everything fell apart again; now let me do
the same for you, hold you close as storms

sweep over your Heart.  Channel your loss
through songs or through silence, I will
stand by you either way.  I will wrap you
in my wings, be your shelter and your sunlight.

Silence (Godphone Update II), and Other Brief Updates

Back in May, I wrote a post saying that my abilities to sense, see, and/or hear my Beloveds–let alone anyone else–has been going down steadily since April.  My abilities dying…maybe finally happened?

I did some brief divination about all of this, and the reading was “everything Over There is fine, relax,” and that my godphone and abilities were bound to die sooner or later.  This…doesn’t surprise me, but the ongoing quiet is strange.


Two weeks ago, the Dreamer left for his Summer Duties in Darkness.  I’ve begun keeping a journal specifically for him when he’s gone over the Summer–he requested I do so through some divination I got–and it’s helped a lot.  I don’t know if he gets the letters as I write them, but writing to him has been helping with being unable to reach him any other way.

The Madman has been around when he can be, but his appearances are sporadic.  This makes sense, from what I know of the Dreamer’s Summer Duties, that his Spouse would be incredibly busy as well.

Jake is still around, which is comforting.  I’ve been spending time with his family and friends when I can–just brief visits, nothing intense–and they really are beginning to feel like family to me.

 

To Wish on Stars

An idea for a story popped into my head on my way home from the knitting group yesterday, so I decided to write it out.  It ended up being more serious than I intended for it to be, but it rings true for me.


“There’s Gods behind those stars, you know.”  The King closed the door behind him, joining his son in the private gardens.

His son had sprawled what appeared to be the entire Royal library’s collection of astronomy books all over the table, some in languages he couldn’t read yet.  But he was ignoring the books, sitting with his bare feet tucked under him, trying to get a look at the stars through his handheld telescope.

“Yeah, I know.”  The boy lowered his telescope, flashed a brief grin, then went back to what he was doing.

“It’s a Sirius thing, stargazing.”

Father.”  His son rolled his eyes.  “You always make that joke.”

The King simply smiled and sat down beside him.  The boy had been in their home for several years now, and there were already questions swirling around him–would he take the Throne, when he came of age?  And another question…what would happen if he didn’t?

“We will love him no matter what,” was always the answer he and his Beloveds gave.  It was the truth, not simply platitudes; he was their son that they loved, not just the Heir and Crown Prince of Darkness.

What if he is meant for things greater than this?

The King shivered at that thought, his eyes going to the stars that were now beginning to glow even brighter in the still spring-time night.   He followed the boy’s telescope, where the lens rested on the constellation that legend said would grant the viewer’s fondest hopes and dreams.

Please, he prayed, let him have a happy childhood, a happy life.  I did not carry him from the snow, his would-be killer’s blood on my hands, for him to become a pawn of the Gods and those who would seize my Throne by taking my child from me.

“What’re you wishing for?”  His son had put the telescope down on the table, simply gazing up at the stars with him now.

“That you’re happy.”

“I am.”  His son paused.  “Do you ever…speak to the stars?”

“To the Gods behind them, yes.”

“What do They say?”

“That They’re watching over you.”  It wasn’t a lie, but so much less than the truth; he had been shown a vision of a pearl that held the moon, and his son’s eyes black with grief.  What it meant he did not know, but he hoped that in the years to come, that the wish he made on this night still held true.