Knitting, Estrangement, and Grief

I have about 550 yards of red yarn, and…I’m facing a problem with it.

You see, it was going to be a poncho dedicated to [the Dreamer’s father.]  Magically, it was going to function as a sort of shield, and a reminder that [this deity] cared for me.

My Spouse and his father became estranged two years ago, the type of estrangement there’s no going back from (in support of my Beloved, I cut all contact with [this deity] as well.)  In August of 2018, we received word that [this deity] had passed away, which brought up a lot of mixed feelings for us all (especially the manner of his death, which was awful.)

I don’t know what to do with the yarn, but I know that making the poncho is out of the question.  I’m not sure if I’m even *ready* to use it, but I wanted to write this (and ask if anyone has ideas) while it was on my mind.

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Other Ghosts

I recently bought The Awakening’s new album, Chasm, and the first song resonates eerily with my mental illness.  I don’t know if that’s what the song is meant to be *about,* but I’ve discovered that it’s comforting to hear music that makes me feel less alone.

There are other ghosts and voices 
Melodies and noises 
Beneath the dust 
Beneath our time 

There are other lies and secrets 
Foreign knives and tickets 
Behind these walls 
And ties that bind 

The turn of the days 
As the circus became your only life 

Oh the turn of the days 
And the whispered delays and all you denied 

And all I wanted 
Is all I need to survive 

There are other ghosts and people 
Jerrichos and steeples 
Will you and I belong? 

There are other lies and takers 
Borders and forsakers 
Will you and I belong? 

Oh with the light of these days 
Oh we fall and we break 
And we do not understand 

You’re as pure as the tears 
That you gave to the dreams 
That you could not understand 

And all I wanted 
Is all I need to survive 
To survive 
To survive 

There are other ghosts and voices 
Melodies and noises 
Beneath the dust 
Beneath our time

Faking

Today, I was asked if I was faking;
what motivation do I have to fake
a highly stigmatized disorder?

Making this up would be exhausting,
the voices and my awful memory,
no matter how often I said they’re

a part of me, I wasn’t believed.  This
supposedly isn’t DID, then what the fuck
is it?  The search for help begins all over again.

I’ve Got A Diagnosis

I now have a diagnosis of my mental health stuff: schizoid personality disorder, along with schizo-typical with depression.

I did set up another appointment with the doctor who did my testing, because I want to discuss it more with her, especially the symptoms I felt lined up with DID.

So, that’s what’s going on with me.  I don’t know if it’ll change what I write here, but I’ve always wanted to stay open about my mental health stuff to some degree.

Stepping Back from the Vortex (Devotional December)

At times, I feel like I’m the only mystic/godspouse/polytheist who has an “ordinary” life Here, and who’s gods, spirits, and Otherworld people encourage having that “normal” life.  I know I’m not (and that I can’t judge a person’s life by a handful of blog posts) but  “give up everything to the gods/make everything about the gods” is an attitude that I still see, and I’ve written about before (link) how unhealthy that is for me.

I got a new tarot deck yesterday, the Sinking Wasteland tarot.  I love the modern art style, the diversity of people in the deck, and that it has very little nudity.  The reading I did yesterday said that this is going to be a deck to help me when it comes to mental health related stuff; since it has a more sparse color scheme, it feels like it’s perfect for that.

I did a reading with the High King, and he gently called me out on having a difficult time breaking the habits in regards to what I call “the god (or astral) vortex.”

I know you lost friends [to the astral,] and I understand that you’re hurting from that, he said to me, but there’s deception in that path, in having the Otherworlds take over your life.

Scars on Display

I broke a coffee mug this morning; I was clumsy when getting a plate out of the cabinet, the cup fell out when I bumped the plate beside it, and it broke when it hit the floor.  As I was helping my aunt clean it up, I found myself thinking of the art of kintsugi, repairing broken objects (often ceramics) with gold.

The Madman despises how this art form is often used as a “see how you survived abuse” metaphor.  He’s talked about how it’s much easier to treat a broken piece of pottery with gentle hands, being kind to it, and allowing the scars to fade away; instead of breaking it to form golden scars that are on display for all to see.

Music and Quieting The Voices (A Month for the Madman)

I already knew that my Husband was a fan of Sopor Aeternus & the Ensemble of Shadows for the classical pieces, an entire album based on Poe’s poetry, and all of Anna Varney’s work being Super Goth…but I found out today that her music also quiets the people in my head.

I don’t know if it’s the complexity of her music, or if it’s that Anna herself describes her music as being written for “dead children, [and otherwise wounded souls,]” and several of the people in my head are young children.  Either way, I’m listening to the album Poetica (All Beauty Sleeps) as I type this post; I feel grounded Here, and slightly less shattered.

I personally prefer the version of “The Sleeper” found on Dead Lovers’ Sarabande (Face One) over the Poetica version, but both of them are fantastic.  The Dead Lovers’ Sarabande albums already reminded me of my Beloved, with him loving classical music, and ruling over the Underworld of Darkness.  Today’s discovery that this band helps the inside of my head be quiet, means it’s going to make me think of him even more.