You could never silence my voice. You do not have that kind of power. There is nothing in this world you could ever do to put fear in my heart. I suppose you thought I was beaten. Down in the dirt, bleeding, licking my wounds and searching for salt with which to heal myself, I am here, and I am down, but witness my rise. You will see my fire and wish that you could still come near it, see it, watch it in the daze of the spiritually sleeping, wish you could warm yourself by its embers… But you will never get that chance ever again. So watch my fire spread across the sky. And if you try to get close again, I will fucking incinerate you.
There has been a question people have asked me many times and I despise it, but feel overly pressured to answer it: What do you look for in a man? This question prompts me to roll my eyes and feel that sense of being fully misunderstood, yet I cannot expect the person asking it, especially if I have just met this person, to know that I am pansexual and polyamorous, not straight and narrow at all. How can this person know who I truly am? If I were to allow that person access to every self I have ever found, could they accept me? I am not a light and fluffy, calm and sweet, tailored to fit the measurements required of me by society lady. I am dark and stormy, cloudy, luminescent like the Moon. I am a fighter, a warrior queen, a battle goddess. I do not take kindly to weakness, because this world is tougher than anyone will ever willingly see. I am rough and tumble, not afraid to get dirty, and I wield more power than anyone sees day to day. I will not allow anyone to take that power from me, either. I do not take disrespect or intolerance. I am an equal-opportunity ass-kicker. If you expect me to be the girl who sits pretty in your parlor and plays the piano, you may go fuck yourself, please. I am polite but I am also blunt as hell, and you will not change me. New folks who are not used to this will balk at my rough exterior and interior, but they will not get the reaction from me they want. I do not aim to please. I do not shrink to fit. I do not kowtow to those who believe themselves higher than me on any kind of food chain. We all die. We all end up in them piney boxes. Please shut up, I am talking. You asked me a question, and I think you believed it a simple one. Perhaps in a former version of myself, in another life, I would have agreed with you. But nothing in life is simple, and I am a rare bitch, so this will be harder an answer than you expected. What do I look for in a man? Firstly, let’s rephrase that. What do I look for in a partner? I look for the compassion to love, of course, but I also look for the responsibility that comes with that love. Do you understand that I will never be your expectation? Can you love me for the insanity whirlwind that I am? Do you want the idea of me or the reality of me? Do you have the balls to deal with my mood swings, my anxiety, my randomness? I look for someone who has more balls than I do, or at least equal balls. I will never expect that person to change for me, and I expect the same courtesy back. But challenge me, challenge my mind, speak my fucking love language and never hold back. Cry in front of me if you feel like crying, and speak the fuck up if you have something to fucking say to me. If I am silent, remember I’m usually silent because I’m spiritually awake and aware and likely tuning into something I’m sensing, so don’t worry too much, because if I am angry at you, trust me love, you will know it. I’m not silent about my feelings. I fight until I see a reason to stop fighting. If I stop fighting, I’m done. I will not tolerate you forcing anything on me, and I will not tolerate a one-sided relationship. I can smell bullshit miles away, I can sense it when you’re lying, and there is absolutely not a damn thing you can hide from me, so please don’t even try. I’ve been abused, I’ve seen some shit, and I’ve learned a lot. I’m the girl you think you can play with, but darlin’, please, I invented this game and I will show you how to play by example. Don’t mess with me. So when I am asked what I look for in a man, I just smile politely and let my silence speak for me. There is genuinely no answering this question. You don’t want the long answer. You want me to say I want a man with nice eyes and a caring heart and a fat wallet. No, no, no. I want SOMEONE, man, woman, transgender, genderfluid, gender nonconforming, I don’t care, SOMEONE who can take me as I am and raise me up to becoming a better version of who I am, and who is open to me doing the same for them. Because I am unconventional in love and out of love, and if you cannot roll with the punches then you and I will not be right for each other. If you cannot handle my falling in and out of love all the time, being polyamorous, then you’re definitely not right for me. I need someone who understands. It isn’t that you aren’t enough for me, it’s that love isn’t a bird that can be caged. I am not a bird that can be caged. If you try to force me to stop flying, I will use the talons the Goddess gave me and slit your fucking throat. I am dangerous, I am danger, I know my worth and I know myself well. If you do not have the patience, the will and the wish to know me as intimately, then please move along. I won’t judge you, trust me. Hell, maybe we can be friends. I am highly aware I am not for everyone. I am also very okay with this. I don’t want to be for everyone. I have a tribe, a coven, a wolf-pack, who love me despite my manias and my craziness. Who love me despite my hasty trigger finger, my hexing, my vexing, ranting, raving, unholy bitchiness. Who love me BECAUSE of these things. I need SOMEONE who can run with my pack, conjure with my coven, dance with my tribe. I need SOMEONE who is in tune with their bodies, their minds, their souls, their hearts, their Selves, their spirituality. I need SOMEONE who can run with me, because boy how-dee baby, can I run. I also need SOMEONE who won’t put the MANIAC in NYMPHOMANIAC. I am a nympho, darlin’ and if you can’t give me what I need you’ll met the Maniac. You’ll especially meet the Maniac if you pretend that you can keep up with me and prove otherwise. I despise liars with such a fiery passion that it burns deep in my belly. You lie, you break my trust, and if you break my trust, you become the shunned in my eyes. Never fuck me over. If you fuck me over, you are well and truly fucked. I know how to make you suffer without lifting a finger. I am an enigma of strength and fire. If you think you can do this dance, then try. Go ahead. You won’t lose a thing, except maybe your dignity if you think you can try to play me. But don’t ask me what I look for in a man, dear, because unless you really care, you’ll regret it.
Dear Unhealthy Parents,
Your daughter is gonna have sex. Your daughter is gonna suck a dick. She’s gonna lick a clit. She’s gonna touch herself. She’s gonna touch other people. She’s gonna have fetishes & kinks. She’s gonna be sexually attracted to people. People are gonna be sexually attracted to her. You have a human that you’re raising. She’s gonna fuck someone. That’s what humans do.
In no circumstance is it okay for you to punish her for having human feelings. When she has sex, she shouldn’t be afraid of what you would say about it. She shouldn’t have to do it in secret. She shouldn’t be afraid for you to find out. Especially if it means you’ll put your goddamn hands on her.
Don’t EVER try to destroy your daughter’s sexuality for ANY reason.
“I know what boys are after, I don’t want them to hurt her.” Guess what?? Your kid is going to get hurt by SOMEONE no matter what gender they are. That’s not an excuse anymore.
“What about STDs??” You’re her parent. Teach her about STDs. Have her ask her gynecologist. Sit with her & learn about safe sex & birth control. It’s not hard to find informational videos on YouTube too. There’s a way to prevent STDs without abstaining from sex.
“What if she gets pregnant?” Read the previous answer. If she gets pregnant anyway, help her to do what she wants to do with it. If she wants an abortion, take her to get one. If she wants to keep it, you STILL don’t get to punish her. Be disappointed, be stern, have a talk with her, but don’t ever make her feel like she’s a bad person for having had sex.
“I don’t want my daughter to be a thot/slut/whore.” It’s none of your business how many sexual partners your daughter has. It’s none of your business how many sexual partners ANYONE has. Sex should never be guilted or shamed.
“She won’t get any respect from men.” If you raised her to rely on respect from men, you raised her wrong. She should not live & breathe for the respect of men. She should live for the respect of herself, & part of that includes the freedom to have sex as much or as little as she pleases. She is not a device for men to judge & you should be ashamed of yourself if you’ve taught her that she is. Her worth should never be decided by a man.
Stop trying to make your daughter resent you. & don’t put your fucking hands on her for doing things that you don’t like. Beating children makes them afraid of you, & fear leads to resentment. What do you want them to remember when you died, the tender moments & fun times, or the times you beat the living fuck out of them for being human?? Be a parent, not a police officer.
No, I did not write this, and I would normally not be posting things like this, but it makes me think a lot. If I were a parent, of a teenager especially, I would have issue with a lot of things. Drugs. Smoking. Boozing. But sex is not one of them. Experimentation happens when you hit puberty. You try crossing every line and doing everything in rebellion possible. But as a parent, you should not be holding a chain connected to your kid. You are raising someone who will at some point be on their own. You will never be able to control their behavior. Influence it, perhaps, but never fully own it. This stigma and shame attached to sexuality should stop. Sexuality is a major part of being human. It is the expression of love and is full of the vitality of life. We are no longer in the stone age, or in the fifties. Make sure your kids are aware that they can tell you anything they feel they need to. They can confide in you…. If they cannot then that is unhealthy.
Just a few thoughts from the witchy.
So I can embarrass you.
Not like that’ll take much…
I’ve met some pricks in my time
but you sir are a cactus
well, maybe one of those miniature ones
if you ran like your mouth
you might be in good shape
nothing brightens up a room like your absence
acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger
in fact we need a microscope to see yours
you have more dick in your personality
than you’re ever gonna have in your pants
look after your eyes dude
they’re the only balls you’ll ever have
If I wanted to kill myself
I’d climb up to your ego
and jump down to your IQ
did someone stop payment
on your reality check
you’re the reason nobody likes you
I look forward to reading your obituary
stupidity is not a crime
so you’re free to go
Did your brain take a laxative
cuz there’s way too much shit
spewing out of your mouth
it’s time to flush it down
I would slap you
but shit splatters
I’ve found puddles deeper than you
I love the sound you make when you shut up
If laughter is the best medicine
then your face must be curing the world
if brains were gasoline
then you wouldn’t be able
to run a flea’s go-cart two laps around a cheerio
the last time I saw something like you
I flushed it
if everywhere you go there is a problem…
I have one nerve left
and you’re dry-humping it
get a condom for your heart
cuz I’m about to fuck your feelings
hey train wreck
this isn’t your station
you’re a dildo…
like I’d call you a dick
but you aren’t real enough
I’m not saying I hate you
I just hope your next BJ is from a shark
Note: These types of entries are dashed down hurriedly as I am on the go. Sometimes they don’t make much sense. But they do come from deep intuition… So here we go.
Ego must be put in check so that the soul’s voice can be heard clearly and so that the heart’s path can be seen and followed. Heartsong is always drowned out by ego’s flamboyant symphony… Because we are taught to ignore ourselves and love the material and believe in the false. We forget that we are all individuals. We try to blend in within the guises of society, but much of society is superficiality and lies. We are all under the grave misunderstanding that if we simply put a pretty face on everything and everyone, no matter how terrible the deeds they have done or how awful the world is at any given moment, everything is just fine. Mind control… Thought control… The media, the government… With every move and every word, we lose our Selves in the mires of what we believe we want as told to us by the rest of the distracted, completely fucked up world. If we all self-actualize and rise up, that illusion would be destroyed and the world would become a confused mess for a while, but then… The possibilities are endless… What we could do for the people who truly need it the most… Right now, as it stands, we are all too afraid of commitment. We must commit to mutual understanding and to loving the whole rather than individual petty concerns. How we must look to outsiders… Those we don’t see who watch us… Our ancestors are ashamed of what has become of their progeny… Until we realize that we are all connected to each other through our soul patterns, our soul DNA. If we do not band together to save ourselves and our planet, we wwill all go down together, screaming, in flames. Don’t think for a moment that ignoring this will help any situation. We ignore it, we are doomed. We must stop hiding behind hatred and superficiality. We must stop ignoring the cries our Mother makes, before She dies. We must take care of Her the way we used to, before politics and technology and toxic mind pollution distracted us from seeing the truth, the one right before our eyes. We have to stop just sitting by while others kill our planet, and all of us. We must awaken!
I was told once, long ago, that in order to heal, I must face myself. Well, no one ever told me that facing yourself hurts so much. Digging that deep, down to the scrapings of marrow in your heart, it’s like burning and having your skin impaled with millions of thorns and rubbing salt in all of the wounds, all at once. It’s feeling so broken you can’t fathom ever being properly whole again, ever feeling right again. I have felt… wrong… for weeks. I only feel okay when blasting my music, or losing myself in a book or in a show or movie, or working on some of the projects I’ve been getting so deep into lately. I can’t tell you how difficult the world looks to me right now. It’s a mountain, even facing the drive to work every morning. I love my job, and I love everything about my world right now… Except for my heart. It’s bleeding, broken, battered and bruised and I don’t know how to go about healing it, or even mending it enough to continue loving like I’ve never been hurt. I still have guilt and I still have self-loathing and I can’t make it fucking stop. Everything suffers under these conditions. My empathic work. My writing. My magick. It’s hard to trance into meditation and it’s hard to trance into ritual. I’m incredibly frustrated and deep down I feel blinded by how much it hurts to just be. It’s literally taking every ounce of energy I have to shut down the negative hell-voices in my head, to make myself breathe properly, move properly, function at least semi-normally. I’m so tired, so emotionally drained and exhausted, every moment of every day just trying to walk along this path of life that I sleep more than I probably ought to. And I work really hard to keep the depression from taking over. It is a full time job. It is a full time fight. It is a full time hell. So I employ a little army of help. Spending time with friends, talking to friends on the phone, burning nice incense and frankincense and sage and palo santo, diffuser aromatherapy (lavender helps!), salt lamps and an aurora borealis machine… I spend time slipping as gently as I can down that inner path in order to explore myself. So many reflecting pools, clear water bright as a mirror… My face within, caught up in the inner hell, twisted with emotional pain and worry and stress. I see these images… And my heart breaks for my Self, that part of me that is always me and always here and suffers so much through every kind of pain. I’m the hot mess in the corner, the train wreck you happen upon, burning on the rails. I am melting. I need to save myself. I don’t fucking know how. I’m scared and I’m not afraid to admit that anymore. I know what I want but I don’t understand why I want it. It’s all killing me.
But here’s the thing. Life is a bitch. I knew it before this depressive cycle started. I knew it before that. I’ve known it for years. I know how it affects me to let myself be cowed by it all. So fuck that. I’m not beaten and I won’t be beaten. I hate myself, but I love the knowledge of myself. I am self-aware and proud of it. I WILL rise above this, yet again. I am broken, battered bruised and all of that dumb shit, but I AM NOT WEAK. I have strength in that self-awareness, in that pride, and in that drive to keep my head above water and strive for the fucking shore. This is what it means to be strong. This is what it means to be me. If you have ever asked me what it’s like to have bipolar disorder and anxiety, this is what it feels like. It feels like constantly having to face the truth within yourself and own up to it all. It feels like the voice in your head that is supposed to be your own is trying to drive you into accepting the worst, but forcing yourself to keep striving for the best. I am not the evil fucking hell-voice in my head. I am not that nasty laugh or that mocking cry or that desperation. I am NOT that voice and that voice is NOT me.
Yes I hate myself. But I don’t hate my Self. The reality of my Self is that it doesn’t match a single bit with the voice of my mental illness.
So who am I? A Pagan, a Witch, a loving friend and family member. I am my own strength just by knowing I have more than the hell-voice tries to tell me. I am determined to succeed in loving myself again, loving my life and loving the beauty of this world. I am not my mental illness. I have mental illness… But it does not and will not ever have me. I am a conqueror, a queen, a killer of hateful thoughts, I slash back at the hell-voice when it slashes at me, I am the silent who is never truly silent, and I am the qualm of every manic thought. I am the child of the Night and the Queen of the Night, too. I am the gift I gave myself when I allowed the lotus to bloom. I am the lotus itself, growing through the muck and the mud and striving in glimpses of the sunlight. I have friends in Morrigan, who fights for me, and Ganesha, who holds me close to his belly and hugs me with his trunk and whispers encouragement in my needing ears, in Hekate, who reminds me that there can be no light without darkness, and in all of Nature, which roots me and holds me fast and takes every chance imaginable to remind me of who I am. Checks and balances. I’m grateful for them. I need them. Even if I AM strong, I need roots, I need a reminder of that strength. The hell-voice does its best to erase that strength. But I turn it around on the hell-voice and use the full force of my strength to erase its grating. That takes a lot of energy. It’s why I’m so damn tired all of the time. But it’s also why I’m still alive. It’s why I’m still walking this Earth and walking this path.
I am determined to save myself, at all costs, no matter what. It’s never going to be easy and I’ll probably never be fully whole, but I am who I am, and I would rather be myself despite the bullshit in my head than pretend to be anything or anyone else. If someone cannot accept me for who I am, as I am, then fuck them, because nobody will ever truly understand how I came to be the way I am, and let me tell you, if you can stand beside me in the middle of my trials, if you can be with me despite how crazy I can be and how crazy I can sound, if you can be loyal and be honest and be real and love me for who I am, then I can reciprocate in every dimension humanly possible. I love others so much more than I love myself because I know what it’s like to lack that love. It’s overcompensation, but it’s part of who I am. I know I am difficult and complex but… It’s me. I have to keep moving along. I have to keep walking.
This is how I save myself.
Tonight is a rare night that due to exegent circumstances, I cannot attend a show.
I cannot tell you how itchy and cranky this makes me. I went to a show last night. I’m going to a show tomorrow night. But I can’t go tonight, so I’m feeling super odd and off. I’m occupying myself with reading and research for the paranormal case I’m currently working on, but it still doesn’t quite help me. Rock n’ roll, live music, the electricity of the whole affair, that is what grounds me and charges me and makes me feel alive. It also just feels weird to not be roadtripping. I love the driving, I love to drive in the dark. I love the stars and the moon guiding me back home after midnight and seeing how far I can drive until the city lights disappear. Little spells I leave behind me sometimes, if I feel called to do so. Every time I go, I feel another crack inside me fill with music and with gold, and I feel my inner beauty returning little by little. I miss it so when I can’t go…