Godspousery Notes: Just get paid for it!

 In the midst of my having issues with my brain and my self-confidence, Flame-Hair poked me with a proverbial stick. He said to me that I am a damn good writer and I should be getting paid for it. So, I responded with I'm trying to sell my books, doesn't that count? His answer was that I should be writing monthly smutty ebooks for a low price to get a steady stream of income since the tarot reading business went belly up. I was about to argue against this idea when he pointed out that I have a blog (that has zip readership right now because I haven't posted anything in literally months) that is dedicated to writing erotic fiction. He even told me that I had the perfect pen name already and if I rework the blog, it can be a good tool for book promotion.

I realized that I didn't have a leg to stand on with that argument. His one thing was that I had to make sure that what I was writing was diverse. Given the fact that I've been doing literal research in how to write smut for roughly five years now, I suppose I can manage that. But, when Loki and Freyr both agree on something, maybe it's a good idea to try it. 

Because, yeah, I asked Freyr what he thought about it. He said that I really should have been doing that the whole time.

A Parable from the Gods (dating to Feb. 2006)

 Forget me. Forget everything you claim to know. Greater truths reside in the Universe than confined in your puny skull. Oh, the matter protected by that cave like bit of stone is precious. Don't let anyone fool you on that one. But it is no more precious than a pebble if it is not used.

A diamond is nothing more than a rock. Less useful than coal, but held up with great reverence and value. I day to you, why do we value the diamond more than coal. Oh, the answers you'd give are obvious.

"Because diamonds are rare. Because they are worth lots of money. Traditionally, they mean many wonderful things and have always been the property of the wealthy."

You wouldn't say so if you were freezing to death. You'd throw it away like a bit of trash in favor of common coal that'd save your life. Remember this parable of the diamond.

Going radio silent for a few weeks.

  Dear Reader,

You may not be aware but I have been struggling with some ongoing mental health problems since last August that has severely impacted my life in a number of ways. I am taking the next few weeks to do some intensive therapy work to try to get that problem under control again so that I'm functional and I can get back to writing again. In the meantime, I will not be posting here because I expect I won't have the time due to the  plans for how to approach this therapy process. I hope to be back to post again and interact with everyone via my social media platforms soon. I just don't know how soon that is going to be.

Wish me luck.

The Rite of Sacrifice (Filianic)

 Full Wolf Moon (Age: 14 days)
Sign: Cancer
Weather: Winter Storm Izzy
Snow Pack: 1ft+
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This is my interpretation of the Filianic Rite of Sacrifice. If you follow the link > here < , you will see a picture of the altar with the offerings on it. This is a monthly ritual held on every full moon. This ritual is very similar to the 'cakes and ale' portion of a Wiccan ritual.

Items needed:
Bread
Wine (if you can't partake of wine, it can be substituted with another beverage. I used water.*)
Incense
Candle

At your altar or shrine, light your candle for Déa with a prayer of your choice invoking her presence. Place the bread and wine on the altar/shrine. Light your incense. Then state the following prayer:

Dear Anna, you who sacrificed everything for the good of all, please accept this that I give you. Please keep [name/community/the world] in your care and heal them of all ills. As I cry, thus may it be.

Leave the bread and wine on the altar/shrine until the incense is fully consumed. The offerings can be considered accepted at this time. The bread and wine are now consecrated to Déa. You may consume them as a sacrament to bring you closer to her or ritually dispose of them as you would any other food offering. If this rite is being conducted for more than one participant, supply enough bread and wine to be shared with all and leaving a portion for Déa. The officiant of the rite is the person to distribute the consecrated food and the last person to partake of it.

* Clean drinking water is perhaps more precious than wine. It is a commodity that is scarce and in high demand around the world. It is also diabetic friendly. These are the two reasons why I chose it.

Godspousery Notes: 4 / 3 of 2022

I am currently depressed. Seasonal affective disorder is stupid and I hate it. I pulled a rune card out of my deck to use for this week's Rune Study post on my other blog and this is the one that popped up. My feelings were a bit bitter at first. Joy when you're depressed is kinda fleeting if not impossible some days. Still, this is the rune that popped up randomly.

I have been trying to find the humor in the absurd, which Loki always reminds me is happening everywhere if you look hard enough. Again, a bit of a bitter laugh but I'm fairly sure that Scar-Lip has been stealing my sleep masks. I've now gone through five and they are nowhere to be found. I go to bed with one on and wake up in the middle of the night to have it missing off my face. If Loki's slick enough to steal Freyja's necklace while she's sleeping, I know this would be like taking candy from a small child. It's as absurd as it is irritating.

Frey's been quiet this week. I'm not surprised given how bitterly cold it has been here. It makes it harder to make a connection with him off season.

Godspousery Notes: 3 / 2 of 2022

 Story time. Way back about two years before the pandemic hit, Freyr asked me to sacrifice my long hair to him. Now, at the time, my hair came down to my hips and was a lot darker. I attempted not too long before this request to dye my hair royal blue and nothing happened, it was a waste of time and money. The only place it showed up was in the witch's streak of white that I have over my left eyebrow and then it didn't show up that well. (I've had this streak of white hair since I was a kid. Got picked on about it. I literally laughed when I found out that they were called witch's streaks many years later.) I agreed, figuring it was hair. It'll grow back and it's not a big deal.

Cue two years where I couldn't stand the feeling of hair longer than my chin. Cue two years where I struggled to find a look that suited me. Last September, I found the perfect look. Then Freyr was asking me to wait a little bit on getting it cut. My hair barely came down to my shoulders and was frustrating me. I couldn't really do anything with it. It got in my eyes all the time but didn't work well with the different styles I had for scarves and veiling. And, the greatest insult, it was thinning and coming out because it was too long for the roots to do a good job of holding on to it. So, the last weekend of September, I got my hair cut.

In the top picture is what my hair looked like before I got the big cut. Freyr was worried that I was going to be distraught about losing my long locks. I was of a mind that this didn't count as long. After all, when I first had cut my hair for him, it came down to my hips. He really didn't want me to make a decision that I was going to regret. His anxiety over it all was sweet. 

I was frustrated with my hair and ready for a change. I was unhappy that I was having hair falling out. I didn't like the way it looked and the fact that I couldn't do anything with it but throw a kertchief on and hope it didn't get too annoying. It was barely long enough to put into a ponytail again. The change to my hair style was a matter of quality of life for me. It was a matter of doing my best to live authentically. I wasn't sure how it was going to change my veiling practices but I knew that I had to do something different. Loki was wildly excited about the new look I wanted and insisted it was perfect for me.

This lower picture is what I got done a few weeks later. For the first time in a long time, I was really ecstatic with my hair. Sure, the grey showed up a lot more. My head was chilly when the wind blew, but I felt like myself more than I had in a long time. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to manage veiling when I went out into public. I aside from the assortment of scarves, I have a good number of hats. Suddenly, my options were larger because I didn't have to worry about hair peeking out from beneath the hat if I decided to wear one out as my head covering.

I was also delighted because it further obscured my recognizability from people who had previously been in my life that I had cut out for sanity reasons. Between the faux hawk, the goth look, and a mask, they could be standing right beside me and not recognize me at all so long as I kept silent. The last time those people saw me, I didn't even have glasses. All good things in my opinion.

Today, I finally figured out how to make a blue and gold pashmina that I love work as a headscarf. It did wonders for keeping my head warm during this cold day. I was happy with it. I am struggling with depression but I'm working at getting better with self-care and being persistent in my effort to be authentic. Freyr came around on the hair style when he realized how happy I have remained with it. He was pleased when I managed to do this wrap, because it meant that I had figured out a way to veil with out getting frustrated with my hair.

I'm still getting used to my new bifocals. But, that's a story for another day. Loki is still insisting that I look 'kick ass' with the faux hawk. He's been trying to talk me into letting it grow out and become a real mohawk. He thinks that it would be awesome on me. I'm not quite convinced. But the fact that Beloved, Freyr, and Loki all agree that happiness looks good on me and (even with my current depressive episode) the joy that I have in this hair style is exactly what I needed.

Godspousery Notes No. 2 / 1 of 2022 : WTF is going on?

 So, my brain kinda went explody back in August and the fallout continues. It's been slowly going explody on this front for literally decades. Then, for some reason, August, my brain decides everything is safe enough to ratchet up the anxiety, the dissociation, and nightmares. And, on top of it, the feeling that my brain/psyche is fractured got to the point that I couldn't just ignore it and push forward.

I've been spinning my wheels trying to figure out how to approach the prospect that I have a dissociative identity disorder issue going on right now. As my psych explained it, there's a spectrum to trauma responses. DID (formerly known as multiple personality disorder) is at one extreme and mild panic attacks is at the other extreme. Lucky me, I get to experience the entire fucking spectrum. For a little while this had me questioning everything, like is my spiritual experiences *my* experiences or something my brain manufactured?

The All-Father sat me down and had a talk. He has been coaching me through the process of journaling to get these separate/not separate elements of my psyche to communicate. He explained to me that my trauma responses are valid and that the more I dive into them and work through them, the healthier I will be. When I say that Odin sat me down and had a talk, I should say it was more like Loki, Freyr, and Odin staged an intervention.

I was sitting there experiencing an existential crisis for the umpteenth time that day when the three of them just showed up. Loki on one side, Freyr on the other, and Odin in front of me. It was put to me that I had to stop being in denial about this element of my life, that it was getting detrimental to my health. The three of them assured me that I wasn't getting crazier. I was just recognizing what was always there and gaslit/taught to deny/punished for being that way. It was shortly after this discussion that I talked to my psych about this business. Cue the man being completely unsurprised and telling me that he had suspected it was a latent thing that I was repressing. That completely floored me.

Since November, I've been struggling with trying to do the journal work. I've got a lot of emotional trauma that I've been working through and Loki keeps nudging me over to Freyr when it gets too much for me to handle. It's less 'not my department' and more 'he's going to do a better job supporting you right now.' I've been having nightmares, a lot of them. I am medicated to the point that I shouldn't be remembering my nightmares, but that particular medication wears off about 4 am and then they hit and either I am stuck in a nightmare or I wake up in a panic and wander the apartment not entirely sure where/when I am but that I have to check to make sure that my family is ok.

HappyFunBall!Loki has been trying to cheer me up since the seasonal depression hit. The sheer volume of dirty jokes that he can come up with is impressive. Somedays, however, he puts aside that demeanor and just sits with me, telling me that I've lived through the worst of it and I can get through this. I have gotten the distinct impression that Loki is keeping a close eye on me right now and that he may actually be worried, though he hasn't said it.

Freyr has just been quietly doing things like reminding me to take my medications and engage in self-care. He's been gently prodding me to start doing more physical exercise again. He also was the one who told me to stop eating the shrimp when my mouth and throat began to itch and call the pharmacist RIGHT NOW! The pharmacist was like 'That's an allergic reaction, take some Benadryl and if it doesn't go away, call you doctor immediately.' So, now I'm allergic to shellfish. Freyr was also the one who told me to put baking soda on my hands after I had a reaction to latex dish washing gloves. My reaction felt like a mild chemical burn and the baking soda stopped it so that it was just itchy and not feeling like my hands were on fire. They were bright red for a little while but then that passed. Of course, both of these things happened one day after the other. And, because trouble comes in threes, Freyr caught on that I was beginning to have an allergic reaction to Aleve similar to the one that I have when I have taken ibuprofen. So, the only thing I can take for my migraines is Tylenol, which is bullshit and useless for a migraine.

Freyr has also been talking me down out of panic attacks that have started hitting me at random when I'm trying to go to sleep after Beloved and I are done cuddling for the evening. Just last night, I was beginning to wind up and Loki told me to look at Freyr. So, I did the trance thing and looked at Freyr and Gullinbursti. That boar is frigging huge. Freyr was just sitting there leaning against him. We talked a bit and I got to give the boar some pets, which I think he liked. I don't know. I don't understand boars, hogs, or pigs. I grew up on a grain farm. They didn't start raising hogs until after I had gone off to college. (And that venture is going really badly, as in there are hogs dying of malnutrition and disease because of neglect.)

I've only recently really started doing the journal work. It took me about three months to work up to it because of all the emotional baggage that Odin, Loki, and Freyr talked me through. I'm not enjoying this journal work, it feels wrong. But so does self-care when you were gaslighted for 20 years that you are not worthy of such a thing and that your very existence should be apologized for. 

My parents are real winners. I haven't had anything to do with them in literally years. I don't intend to do so in the future either because of how toxic they are. My children don't know them. They know of my parents, but they don't know my history or anything else about them. Fortunately, they did get the opportunity to get to know their Great-grandparents (my paternal Grandparents, the ones who were not crazy) before they died. As I have said before in other places and on other platforms, the next time I intend to see my parents are when they're dead and then it'll be to make sure that they actually are deceased and it's not some elaborate mindfuck.

Obviously, Odin has strong opinions on how I was raised and the reverberations from it. He's basically stepped in and said "I'm your Dad now." It's been an interesting experience but also a hell of a lot more healthy than any of my experiences with my parents. He's generally been pretty laid back about a lot of things, but he does get a bit cranky when I start to do stuff like forget to take care of myself. Cranky Dad!Odin is an experience. I get the glare of disapproval and the "Haven't we talked about this?" speech. Then I go, "Yeah, you're right. I really should do XYZ. I'm sorry." To which he almost always responds, "Don't be sorry, just do better. You deserve it."

And then there's the times where Dad!Odin and Loki get going on the cheezy jokes. It's hilariously awful. For example when my Beloved was reading a Dr. Seuss book to one of the boys and there was the line 'and you'll never find a pet wetter than that', Dad!Odin said dryly "They've obviously never met a fish." Loki then supplied, "Well of course not, they're in tanks. You don't want to mess with a tank."

But, that's wtf has been going on and is going on right now. Things are crunchy, weird, and uncomfortable. My PTSD has been acting up a fair amount and I've been having them talk me through flashbacks. It's been an experience.

Godspousery Notes No. 1: Support in times of Anxiety.

 Yesterday, I did the grocery shopping for the first time in the last year and a half. I did it because Beloved was completely exhausted from running errands at o' dark thirty for some relatives. So, I took the shopping list and headed out. I was nervous about it because it is the weekend of Black Friday and I'm a social phobe. I was also nervous about driving because of the fact that my astigmatism makes headlights look like starbursts and sometimes make me temporarily blind when I'm driving at night. With sundown being around 4pm now, I had a tight time table and multiple stores to hit.

I'm pretty sure that the random acts of kindness that I ran into as my nerves were beginning to ramp up weren't quite as random as they seemed. When you're involved with a chaotic deity, randomness becomes suspicious when it follows a pattern. In this case the pattern was a combination of people complimenting me on my hat and just moving out of the way right as I was approaching from behind. They didn't see me coming, I didn't have the cart with a squeaky wheel, and there was no indication that anyone around them noticed me. I did warn them as I passed behind them that I was there, because they were so focused on their shopping that I didn't want to startle them. Most of them didn't respond. It was a little eerie because most people respond when I do that with either "Oh! I didn't see you there!" or "Ok, thank you."

I was able to find just about every major item we needed at the discount grocery store. It was a good thing because when I saw what the prices were at the regular grocery store, my jaw just about hit the floor. I had an abstract knowledge that the price of things  had been going up but actually looking at it was an entirely different experience. I was power-walking through the grocery stores because I was uncomfortable. When I was forced to slow down, I encountered people who randomly offered me compliments on my hat or my mask with the roses all over it. I made a point of being as polite and pleasant as I could be despite the urge to just move on as quick as I could to get away from strangers.

It was an uncomfortable experience to be out grocery shopping. I could feel Loki with me, just walking along. He pointed out that the store had a set of black cable knit sweaters. I almost stopped and bought one but I had milk in the back of the car that needed to get home and into the fridge. Today, he's been encouraging me to call the salon and set up a hair appointment for next weekend and insisting I really should go pick up one of those sweaters before they're out of stock. At this time of day, that'd mean part of my drive home would be at dusk. I guess I could do it because it wouldn't be full dark and my vision wouldn't be completely screwed by someone having their high beams on. But I'm real leery of the concept.

It going to be hard in a few weeks when I have to take the car for some appointments and possibly be driving at night to get Beloved from work. I have a problem. My night vision has been steadily getting worse over the last few years. And my astigmatism is enough to fuck that up badly too. Unlike some idiots that I'm related to, I'm not going to get a pair of sunglasses to wear when I drive at night. Because I know the problem isn't the brightness of what I'm looking at as much as there's something physically not right in my eye. Sunglasses isn't going to fix that and it will make it an order of magnitude harder to watch for wild life running out into the road.

After I had gotten all of the shopping done and was home, Loki said he was proud of me for going out on my own for a longer time than I had in just about a year. I think that Loki kept nudging nice people into my path to give me encouragement to keep going. He does things like that.

Godspousery Notes: I've lost count, time to reset the counter. :)

 Where do I begin? I have been struggling with mental health stuff for about half a year now. I've been struggling with sleep for about the same length of time. Now my seasonal depression is kicking me in the teeth and we've got all the wonderful stress of the holidays going on. On top of that, I came to the sad conclusion that my night vision is bad enough that I simply can not drive when the sun is down. This severely restricts my options in going out to do stuff.

On one hand, I kinda knew this was coming down the line because my night vision has been degrading for a while. On the other hand, I'm really upset because I feel like the world has gotten smaller and I am yet more trapped in my own home by circumstance. Loki and Freyr have done their best to comfort me and assure me that this is not an awful thing. It's really hard though, because I've developed a fear of going blind after the experience about 3 years ago when my blood sugar was high enough that it screwed with my vision and everything was blurry.

Beloved assures me that since I've got my blood sugar and other matters under control, I shouldn't fear going blind anytime soon. He suggested that laser surgery could possibly fix my astigmatisms (I've got 2 in one eye and 1 in the other.) and maybe even help me regain some of my night vision. I am just really sad about this and how much these vision issues have negatively impacted my life. I love astronomy but with my night vision problems, it's harder to see the stars (never mind the light pollution makes my eyes have problems too). It just about makes me want to cry.

The vision thing is the latest in a series of running problems. Over the course of one week, I developed an allergy to latex, shellfish, and Aleve. So, I can't use dishwashing gloves now. I can't eat my favorite soup any more (clam chowder). And I can only take Tylenol (or its generic counterpart) for my intermittent migraines. Let me tell you, Tylenol is about as useful during a migraine as spitting into the ocean. It's next to useless with my arthritis, but I try anyways. That week I got angry with Loki who held up his hands and said, "Hey, this isn't mischief. This is your body hating you, again." So, I got weepy and upset over the fact that my meat suit is malfunctioning, again. He tried to cheer me up with jokes and stuff, he really did try. It's just hard to accept that my body has a laundry list of issues that just are getting worse as I get older, it seems.

I've got someone I care about in a bad situation that I can't do a damn thing to help. I can pray, but that's about it. The awful part of it is the fact that I have been running into flashbacks to past trauma because of a number of things. This started about half a year ago and just hasn't stopped. My psychologist has been wonderful about doing his best to help me. When Loki, Freyr, or Beloved notice that my brain weasels are getting out of control, they remind me that I have another dose of anxiety medication to shut them up. The flashbacks to past trauma have ranged from emotional ones to completely reliving the experience. (Fortunately, the last one only happened once so far.)

Freyr has been leaning on me to do more self-care. Loki's been throwing things that help that process into my path (like the random discovery of a lotion that is specifically for diabetic skin that is sensitive and I don't react to it at all). I've been struggling with it. Last night after my shower, as I was applying lotion to pretty much everything, I felt like a greased sausage. It was humiliating. My super dry skin was very itchy. The places where I had cracked skin was sore and the places where there's skin buildup was extremely uncomfortable. I mentioned how I felt about all this to Beloved. He gently chided me that I wasn't a greased sausage but a woman with a skin condition.

As I was in the process of trying to get some rest, I got a stern talking to from Loki about my 'exceedingly uncharitable and inappropriate' comment about myself. I was firmly reminded that negative self-talk like that is not acceptable and I had to knock it off. Communication with Loki and Freyr has been alternating between stuff like 'hey, are you ok? you can talk to me," affectionate stuff, and stern reminders that negative self-talk and neglecting my welfare is unacceptable. When I was really upset about how somethings weren't going quite right in my relationship with Beloved, the two of them told me that I was going to talk to him about it or there was going to be a consequence.

The last time I ignored them on something important like that, I found myself in a position where the issue was right in my face the whole time until it got fully addressed. So, I talked to Beloved. Had a meltdown over the fact that I have emotional needs at all. And got reminded that I was raised in a household where basic needs like eating were treated as reward/luxury items for me rather than necessities and punishments for having needs happened on a regular basis. It was a hard day.

I'm just trying to keep my head glued together. Loki's been attempting to cheer me up and get me to shrug off some of the depressive symptoms. It sort of works for a little while and then it doesn't. Freyr's been really big on how I need to take better care of myself and kinda using the carrot and a stick approach when I dig my heels in about refusing to do so.

Somehow in all of this, I wrote a devotional for Loki. It's up on Amazon as an e-book and a paperback. The paperback has more stuff to it. 

Godspousery Notes No. ???

 They're begging me not to do it. I'm so tempted to start starving myself again. Eating the bare minimum of what my carb load requirements has dropped my A1C from 12 three years ago to 6.4 as of my last appointment. Stress has been making my fasting blood sugars creep up, aggravated by the 'dawn phenomenon' where people have their body producing more blood sugar to wake them up in the morning. I feel like I can't eat a proper meal anymore. Breakfast is a small cup of yogurt and a 1/4 cup of granola. Lunch was sandwiches and salads. But as I find my brain getting bad again, I've turned to nutritional bars that hit that bare minimum threshold of carb requirements.

I'm not doing the keto diet. But I am devolving back into disordered eating. I am struggling to make myself eat in front of people. Those nutritional bars allows me to wolf down food before I have to put together food for the kids. It's the knot in the rope I'm holding on to so I don't fall back into that hole. In the last three months, my weight dropped by five lbs. It's not because of miraculous activity. It's because I realize that I've been doing this thing for the last three months.

I just am so tempted to just go back to eating the bare minimum I need to stay alive. Diabetes has cut so many foods out of my life. All my comfort foods are gone. All of the replacements for those comfort foods are gone now too because my texture/flavor sensitive family can't handle them. I'm sick of fighting to get the kids to eat. They're underweight because of their medication. I have tried a diverse number of foods and they keep resisting them.

So, after a family meeting, the menu is now hamburgers on Monday, tacos on Tuesday, meatloaf and potatoes on Wednesday, rotisserie chicken on Thursday with potatoes, and fish sticks on Fridays. Saturdays are 'cheat' days where fast food is acquired. Sundays are family dinners at the in-laws which tend to be defined by my father-in-law's pickiness about food being too spicy, looking weird, or has too many vegetables. And he's vocal about his pickiness to the point that he's bitched about my cooking to my face. I was good and I didn't flip the table over. I seriously thought about it. His comfort foods just happens to look a lot like what the menu that's been assembled for the week. So, I can't escape it.

Very little on this menu is diabetic friendly. So, I am only going to eat small portions. I can't help it because if I eat a 'normal' portion, my blood sugar spikes. I am just going to have to learn to ignore hunger again. Freyr is just about in tears over this because he's deeply worried that it's going to have catastrophic effects on my health. Loki is toweringly angry with me for not saying anything during the family meeting about my dietary needs.

But, I can't do this business of cooking multiple meals every day at a given meal time. I tried. It didn't work out. I can't apparently make food that would theoretically hit everybody's dietary needs (because the kids need high carb and high protein diets to gain weight) because what I make is disgusting to the rest of the family. Beloved said, "Let's do a family meeting and get the input from the kids on what they'll actually eat." So we did that. As it went on, I realized, nothing I could say or do was going to change the outcome.

I used to love cooking once I got past the emotional trauma of being psychologically abused over my skills as a housekeeper and cook by my parents. Now, I dread it. Nothing I made was good enough in my parents house. If something went wrong, it was my fault, even if the error was a misprint in the recipe. For twenty years, I was told that I was a terrible cook and all of that is coming back up now with my kids being like they are about the food. And with my husband's tendency to pick up fast food because what I made for dinner doesn't appeal to him, and then I find the bags in the garbage with the leftovers of what I cooked.

I gave up on leftovers as something to eat the next day. Because I was the only one who would eat them. And when 90% of what you cooked is left, it's depressing. Things are just getting worse on this front every day. I'm sitting here incredibly hungry because I skipped my afternoon snack so that I didn't eat too many carbs. Lunch is just about always peanut butter spread across diet flat-bread when it isn't one of those nutrition bars. Either case, my dietician would say that it's not ideal. 

Which is really fucking funny because she's the one who got me started back on this bullshit. When my old glucometer bit the dust, she was telling me to restrict my meals and eliminate snacks to get better numbers on my 3 year old meter. Never did it occur to her that the problem was the meter. I went in for my regular appointment with the doctor, just about in tears, explaining that I was a recovered person with an eating disorder that's threatening to come back because of what the dietician was directing me to do. It was the doctor who asked me how old my meter was. He was astonished and horrified when I told him and immediately prescribed a new meter and accoutrements. My readings now are half of what the old meter was reading.

But, I can't get that woman saying that I need to have a fasting blood sugar of 90 out of my head. When I have a fasting blood sugar over 120, I eat less than 30 carbs for breakfast in an effort to force that number lower when the medication kicks in. On a given day, my total carbs now is around 150. When I stress eat, it's cheese or meat. I've given up on fruit, even as part of a meal, with the exception of the dried apricots which I calculated is 3 carb per apricot. I allow myself 4 at most as a snack, that's 12 carbs when according to the prescribed diet my range is 10 to 15 carbs for a snack. My total carbs for a meal is 30 to 45. If you're doing the math, my total carbs are pretty low.

I can't talk to Beloved about this. I get so upset that I just start blubbering. I'm humiliated. I am defeated by this. Loki keeps telling me to tell Beloved that this is going on. I can't though. He's carrying the weight of supporting the family on his shoulders. He's working at a job that's barely afloat, primarily because of his efforts. I can't add this to that. I just have to figure out a work-around. But I can't seem to think of anything because the damn eating disorder and all that disgust with myself that was literally beaten into me for eating by my parents gets in the way.

The last three months have been real hard. I haven't been sleeping well for about a year now. It's gotten real bad over the last three months to the point that my psych has put me on a second antipsychotic because of its sedative effect (I'm on one for my bipolar II with psychotic features, which is working and at about the highest dose they give.) With the sleep problems, I am more prone to c-ptsd problems. With the c-ptsd problems, I am more prone to eating disorder problems.

I'm a fucking mess. I'm posting this on the blog that only two of you read. I'm not going to do something stupid. I'm just struggling and venting. I know that if I put this on any of my other blogs, there'll be drama somewhere. I'm going to try, again, tonight to talk to Beloved about my eating issues. I really don't want to find out what Loki would do to inform Beloved that I'm back on that bullshit again. And I don't want Freyr to cry over me. It hurts. And I know that Loki's anger at the situation is covering up his pain and concern. Because, that's what he does with me in the dynamic that we've got.

So, that's what's on my mind and why I haven't posted shit in forever. My brain is in a bad place. I'm not depressed but I'm not well for so many reasons. That, however, is something for another day.

30 days for Freyr - Roadblocks.

 I've been desperately trying to keep up on my writing but failing left, right, and center. I've been having some problems over the last several weeks. Three weeks ago, I put my back out and I was out of commission for a week. About two months now, I have been having severe problems with insomnia. This is having a negative impact on my ability to focus to write or do much of anything. The apartment is kinda a mess again because I've had the attention span of a goldfish. Throw on top of this, for the last three weeks I have been having difficulties with my C-PTSD and experiencing a lot of intrusive thoughts and flashbacks at random with great frequency.

I'm working with my doctor to get these things resolved but I know that this is not a case of 'Take this pill and you'll be better in a week.' But, it is making things like devotional writing hard. If you follow me on Tumblr, I'm a bit irregular in my morning little prayers right now. I'm stressed out and dissociating on a fairly regular basis. My problems sleeping make me more prone to doing that. I'm not entirely sure why.

Last night was the first night in the last two months I got something that resembled a full night of sleep. I only woke up twice and that was to get a drink of water. All this stress has my blood sugar running kinda high in the morning and I've been stress eating stuff like cheese. I think the only reason why this post is not gibberish is because I got more than 4 hours of sleep last night. I'm also on my second pot of coffee. That magical potion that turns me from a zombie into a semi-functional person.

Freyr has been concerned. Loki's been concerned. Beloved is concerned. The only ones who are not concerned are my kids, who don't really know what's going on because I do my best to mask my symptoms around them because they find them distressing. Which is exhausting. I don't know what the solution to this problem is going to be. I just hope that all of this doesn't land me into an depressive or a manic episode. Either would be real bad right now.

But that's why I haven't been posting. Because my brain is shit right now. I don't even know why I can't sleep. I fall asleep ok but I keep waking up after a large chunk of my bedtime medication wears off. The other night, I woke up six times in a row, despite taking the melatonin as my doctor advised. I think the fact I slept last night is based on the fact that I was so tired I was literally stumbling over my own feet.

30 days for Freyr - Day 4

 I love him for his generosity and kindness. I love him for how he takes care of his people (and often those who are around them as well). I love him for how good he is to the world and doesn't ask anything for it in return. I love him for the way plants grow and bloom in his presence. I love him for how he is always encouraging me to be my best self. I love him for how he loves me.

30 days for Freyr - Day 3

 I know that he is with me. I know it as surely as I know that objects on Earth fall at the velocity of 32 ft/s/s and that the Sun rises in the East. But today was a bad brain day. I'm heart sick and terrified of things from the past. It makes my head full of noise and shutters my 'second sight'. I just want to cry but I can't because of past trauma. Freyr tells me on a regular basis that there's no shame in my tears. He tells me that they're as natural and necessary as the rain. And that I shouldn't fight so hard to stop them from falling. But pain and psychological agony keep me stone-faced because I was taught as a child that crying was weakness and weakness was always punished. Some day, maybe, I'll be healed enough that I can cry. Today is not that day. At least Freyr understands that and has never told me that my tears (shed or unshed) were weakness.

30 days for Freyr - Day 2: A poem

 Pining for Autumn's beauty
Gazing upon a skin-shed
Holding a hollow skull
Life is fleeting
So it is that I must go
To transform
To transcend
To the little death of the seed
So that the mighty oak may grow

30 days for Freyr - Day 1 (really late)

 I am not well right now. I put my back out around the middle of last week picking up a stupid piece of paper. Life's been busy and a pain in the neck because it's been hard to have the focus to write anything, anywhere, in any format. Now, I have to rest my back and sit or lay and pretty much do nothing until this spasm goes away. I'm hoping that it'll be a week and then everything's fine. The pain is pretty much managed by the Aleve and Tylenol. The muscle relaxer is helping me a lot too but it's making my brain run a bit slower and I feel kinda spaced out (like with Benadryl sans the out-of-body sensation).

Now, you may ask what this misfortune has to do with Freyr. It's really simple. I'm posting here for the whole world to know that he was right. I got cocky and stopped making time for my exercises for my back after I fell about two years ago. Then the pandemic came along and I pretty much stopped exercising all together. The entire time, Freyr was gently telling me I really needed to do at least some yoga to strengthen my core muscles. I hate yoga because the stretching is painful for me to do in 90% of the poses and most of the poses make me lose my balance.

Cue last Wednesday when I stooped to pick up a partial sheet of loose leaf paper one of my sons left on the living room floor. I went to stand back up and it hurt. Being a practical woman, I took some Aleve. It still hurt. Thursday morning, the Aleve had worn off and my pain was a 9 out of a scale of 1 to 10. The last time I had a 9, I was in labor with my youngest son and Beloved cracked a joke which made me laugh during a contraction. As I am typing this, Freyr is reminding me that if I don't put my glasses on soon, I'm going to give myself a headache. So, I'm going to listen to him and put them on. Because failing to listen to him combined with my natural clumsiness equates to misfortune. (And Loki pinning my ears back for not being more careful.)

Pandemic stress is hard on a necromancer.

 I'm writing this here instead of my other witchy blog or my personal blog because I think it fits here better. I don't know.

We're a year and a half (a little over actually) into this pandemic business and I'm frayed. I am struggling on the spiritual level a fair amount because of the fact that I'm pretty isolated geographically from the pagan community that I was participating in before this thing hit. I was just coming out of my shell and stuff. Then Covid-19 arrived on the scene and everything went to shit.

Around the time of early January 2019, my guides and all of my ancestors were telling me not to do divination for the upcoming year. We all know what kind of a shit show 2019 was. I came out of 2019 worn out and confused by why the dead were so many and so restless. Now, I understand. The constant static of a ton of psychic voices was cacophony in my head to the point that I was a little worried that my depression medication wasn't working properly.

Under the guidance of the All-Father, I put up wards around my home to keep all but my familial dead out. Gradually, the psychic pressure of the restless dead reached a point that going out of the house was a literal headache. At that point, the wards got extended to include the entire property and a ward got attached to my medical id bracelet. It went from noise to silence. Again, I was left wondering if my medications were working properly.

I still feel them out there. The lost souls looking for their route to where they're supposed to go. There's so many of them. There's more than just human souls that are in this position. The mass deaths that have happened over the last three years have left an imprint. This imprint on the psychic level of reality isn't going away anytime soon. But, like any other hollow space, it fills up. In this case, with spirits.

I'm a necromancer. It's my thing to talk to and generally deal with the spirits of the dead. Has been since I was a small child (and I suspect it runs in the family). Shutting down this part of myself has left me feeling out of sorts and like I'm missing something vital to my being. But, I'm being cautioned against opening up because we're not done with this pandemic. The warnings I get is that this is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.

Those warnings set off my anxiety issues. Add to that the legitimate reasons to be anxious about Covid-19 and its possible influence on my family, you just get an emotional mess. Now, the stress of all of this got to the point where my sleep was screwed up. That's very bad for a person with bipolar disorder. It is equally bad for a person with posttraumatic stress disorder. I happen to have both in spades. So, my doctor put me on medication to help me sleep and tweaked my other medications to help me with the anxiety (and attendant depression). 

Here I am, a little over a year and a half later, I still feel that psychic pressure. When I go out, it's like static electricity all around me. It's only gotten more intense as time has gone on. I veil and that static like feeling is pushed back. The problem is, the people where I live are not ... tolerant of anything that looks even remotely Islamic. The veil style that provides the most shelter for me is the headrail, which looks identical to the shyla because there's only so many ways you can wrap a bit of fabric about your head. 

I wear kerchiefs but it isn't the same. I'm working on trying to come up with ways I can both not be overwhelmed by the restless dead's need for someone to point the way and still be psychically active. Right now, the only thing that I can do with out something going haywire is basic divination. But, even that is getting a little weird. Which means the pressure on the wards is getting higher. Which isn't surprising.

Covid-19 jumps and mutates incredibly fast. It kills easily and in a horrific way. It's a terrifying disease. The mass deaths it's caused is warping reality a bit because there are so many restless souls. I pray that with the Hunt season, those souls will all be brought to where they're supposed to be. At the same time, it feels like Hunt season from 2019 never ended.

July for loki post no 19: i surrender.

 Enough stuff has gone sideways over the last two weeks, I just give up. Apparently I am doing to much or trying to do too much or something. I don't know. I just know that I've been having things proverbially go explody left, right, and center for the last several days. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. And I just can't fake a smile and push on. 

No idea what that means for all the stuff I have to do. Loki keeps telling me to open my hands and let the pieces fall. Whatever pieces I'm holding on to, I'm just letting drop. I don't have the spoons for all of the drama. In other news, thieves suck and I want my planter back so but I can't have it back because it's evidence now. I was going to get some flowers and put them in it and I was going to take that strawberry planter and put the ton of spider plant babies into it. But some moron stole a big planter full of dirt and a mostly dead rosebush and my strawberry planter. 

*sighs* This shit is exhausting. I don't know wtf the message is, if there even is one. Who the hell fucking steals a two cubic foot planter full of dirt? Seriously? I guess the flowers I get to have are the ones I either make out of yarn or buy from the store. 2021 sucks.

July for Loki post no, 18

A Litany for Loki (from my new book)

Hail Loki

Hail to the Friend of the Traveler

Hail to the Sky-Treader

Hail to the Cunning One

Hail to the Scar-Lipped Speaker of Unwelcome Truths

Hail to the mischievous Lie-Smith

Hail to the Tale Spinner

Hail to the Thunderer's Companion

Hail to the Dweller within Victory's embrace

Hail to the Net-Maker and the Salmon

Hail to the slayer of Otar of the waters

Hail to the thief and restorer of Sif's hair

Hail to the Father of Monsters

Hail to the Mother of witches and trolls

Hail to the Bound-God who walks free

Hail to the Lover of Angrboda

Hail to the Blood-Brother of Helblind

Hail to the Curious One

Hail to the Friend of Humanity

Hail to the Guardian of the Hearth-fire

Hail  to the famed son of Laufey

Hail to the Champion of the outcast

Hail to the Giver of Strange Gifts

Hail to the Wolf's Father

Hail to the Watchman's Bane

Here's the link if you want to buy a copy. It's a short read. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B099NX9HLL

July for Loki post no. 17

 I have been slowly feeling my mood drop as we move farther away from the summer solstice. I am pretty sure it's my seasonal affective disorder beginning to rear its head. This morning, as I was attempting to write in my journal, Loki said to me, "It's not too early to break out that special light and start using it." I've been resisting the urge to do so because I just feel like a fool sitting there with that 'happy light' running when the sun is in the process of rising. I was considering bickering with him about it when he reminded me, "If you can't make your own neurotransmitters, store bought it fine. If you can't get enough sunlight, a sun lamp is fine. Think about your plants and grow lights."

So, this argument in place, I have to figure out how I am going to fit in 30 min of time with the 'happy light' where it's the only major light source in the room at the correct angle. I don't know how I'm going to do this. My apartment is laid out terribly and the one room that would be ideal for that doesn't have enough outlets or a table for me to put the light on. Ugh. I hate being wrong but I hate even more not being able to implement the solution to the problem that I was in denial about. I'm sure that Loki will have some kind of idea, he's crafty like that.

But yea, SAD sucks.

July for Loki post no. 16

 So, Beloved and I get back from visiting his elderly parents. As I go to get out of the car I see that his travel mug of coffee from the day before is sitting in the cup holder. I pick it up. Instead of finding the usual handful of change sitting in the bottom of the cup holder underneath the mug, I find a calcified chicken nugget. 

Beloved's confused and then he starts howling with laughter. He says to me, "Hey, babe, I think your boss gave you a chicken mc-fuck-it." It had been an exasperating day. I was about to say something to the effect that I was out of fucks to give. Then this happened. I tossed the chicken nugget out into the wild so some feral cat could have it.

"Well, there goes my last fuck," I said. Beloved exploded with laughter. The boys, who were out of the car and on their way into the house at the time were very confused by all of this because they didn't hear the conversation.

Flame-Hair, supplier of fucks when you run out?