Memories of What You Can't Seem To Let Go

I am a pretty cautious person by nature, despite how it might seem, when it comes to protecting myself emotionally. I think everyone has those triggers that put them mentally in an unhealthy place that they want to avoid. I do everything I can to keep myself from those situations. I've done what I can to help myself heal from things that have hurt me in the past and by and large I feel like I am well adjusted given my fairly chaotic and occasionally awful past. And yet, there are days when it seems the past is inescapable and you find that you are much more vulnerable than you imagined you could be.

Let's rewind for a moment to about four or five months ago. I was just starting to work as a server at The Diner. Or, at least, I was finally comfortable enough with my surroundings that I didn't feel like every weekend was a battle. Its then that I first noticed this nice, quiet guy who read books and sat by himself. He came in every Saturday. He seemed nice enough. I noticed him enough that he eventually became That Nice Quiet Book-Reading Guy Who Always Orders a Breakfast Special (Take Three Creams with the Coffee). We would chat occasionally and I discovered he was an interesting person. He liked the outdoors. He seemed pretty well rounded. About two months ago I found out he's an Arborist. He then became (in all my references to Kitten when talking about work) That Nice Arborist Who Comes In On Saturdays and Reads. By luck or design he started landing in my section more often. It was then that I discovered two things 1- he does just about everything from play instruments to rock climbing to reading, in general that he is a person whom I would like to hang out with. 2- His name. We'll call him Jack here (short for Lumberjack, or Jack of all trades, you chose).

So I happened to have an extra ticket to the symphony this last weekend and I invited Jack along. I was both pleased and surprised when he said yes. Sakura and I go (well we try) every month. He has season tickets and I am almost always his date. Anyway, we went, we had dinner, Jack met Kitten and Sakura and things were nice.

Cue Sunday. Without airing Jack's dirty laundry I can say with a fair amount of certainty that he has, in most people's eyes, a personal history that would make him predisposed to dislike me. That he was not only comfortable but gracious and very open with me and my strange little family speaks to his strength of character, I think. I know, without him telling me, that he was putting himself out there when he joined us on Saturday. I took it as a compliment. Imagine my surprise when that morning when he was in eating breakfast that he invited me to come watch him play his instrument at his church that Sunday night. Once again, I'll reiterate that his character already shames mine because I don't know if I would be able to ask him to come, I don't know, watch me sing or read my writing or whatever. Not this early in our tentative friendship. Not especially considering those extenuating circumstances with would bother me considerably were I him. He was even kind enough to point out he was not proselytizing in inviting me- proving he was intuitive enough (or I scream NOT CHRISTIAN loudly enough) to see that might be something of a deterrent to me. Even though, once he gets to know me better, he'll understand that I really don't mind most Christians, or the religion itself, really. Its just not my cup of tea, and we've already discussed here my philosophical disagreements with the religion- I won't rehash it.)

What he couldn't know (and what some of you who have been around for some time will recall ) is that I was sexually assaulted by my Pastor's son and some of his friends when I was a teenager. The resulting damage to my person, and my mental health and all of the horrible things that came after that when I foolishly sought help from my pastor, thinking he would do the right thing and want to help me (I was really, really naive) have had a profound effect on me as a person. He wouldn't know about the years of therapy. The drugs. The attempts on my own life. My blatant disregard for my own health and safety. My lack of personal value. The number or horrible relationships I ended up in that mirrored, in some sick way, that first really awful one. He wouldn't know this. And he shouldn't really. Because in the intervening years, as most of you are aware, I've gotten help, I've healed and in general I consider myself to be as well adjusted and happy as a person who has gone through what I did can be. I live a relatively open life. I have learned to cope with my anger and fear. I am in a successful, healthy relationship. I have friends who love and support me and help me when I feel weak. Any person who looks at me would not see those hidden scars. I don't want them to.

So imagine my surprise- after all these years of being well adjusted and happy- at finding myself in the parking lot of his church Sunday night, sitting in my truck, having an utter and complete panic attack. I never even saw it coming. You know, it occurred to me as I pulled in that outside of three funerals, one wedding and a couple of Midnight Masses at Christmas (and honestly, a Catholic church is a completely different animal from a tiny protestant church) I have not set foot inside a church building since the incident as a teenager. I certainly have not been to any church without having someone whom I might consider a security blanket with me. So there I was, sitting there, feeling one hundred percent out of sorts and a little bit terrified, trying desperately to talk myself off that panic ledge. I remember telling myself how big a step it must have been for Jack to be with my family. I remember telling myself that I could be a big person. I remember telling myself that I was not going to punk out. I was already there.

And honestly, as I sat there, I reminded myself that I am different now. I know who I am. I am stronger. I am braver. I know how to protect myself. As a priestess I speak with god more often than most of these people would ever in their lives. I never thought the day would come when my being a witch would be the thing that made me brave enough to walk into a church. But it was. If I can hear the voice of god, if the goddess comes to me in my dreams, if my Grandfather and Great Grandmother and all my sacred dead can sing me to sleep on my worst nights, there was really no reason I should be worried that they would not be there for me in that moment. And so I got out of my truck.

And Jack, thank god and goddess, came out of the church just then to get something out of his truck. And he spotted me. And promptly commented on how terrified I looked. Bless his heart, he asked me if I was afraid of combusting or being struck down by god when I went inside and he laughed. I managed a smile and told him with complete honestly that I was fine with God, it was his followers that had me anxious. Bless his heart, he put his hand on me and led me in and let me sit down and I could tell he felt bad when he had to go do other things. But he did come back, and when he wasn't playing he did sit with me. I felt bad about that, really, because I feel like he was babysitting me. I know he had people he probably would rather have been with.

Did you know that all churches smell the same? I swear they do, though I didn't recognize it until now. The voices sound the same. Its like the same picture, over and over, no matter where you are. I find it ironic. The sounds are the same. The church may be different- they may see themselves as completely unique- but I swear I had been to so many before...well, before. And it doesn't look like things have changed. Which is fine for them, of course, but for me was immensely uncomfortable.

I want to say this- Jack played beautifully and I am really glad I went. I really am. I might even go again because honestly, now that I am seeing my own fear I feel like I should face it. And it wasn't so bad really, even if I am on a different page spiritually. Their pastor is really, really nice. That said, I spent a lot of the evening jumping every time there was lightening (because of course there was a storm rolling in), twisting my rain jacket in my hands in an attempt to look like I was merely chilly and not fighting the impulse to white knuckle the seats (I was not leaving!) and struggling desperately to turn off my "witch eyes" which had suddenly decided to light up like The Plaza at Christmas (let me tell you how fun it is to be seeing auras and sensing emotions and have your psychic mail box go off while you're trying to focus on something else entirely.) Obviously something about the place or the situation put me in an Alpha state, which is great. Unfortunately, I was trying to torch my own personal demons.

I think I tripped over my own feet three times in the ten yards to the door (thank the lord that everyone already knows how clumsy I am). I managed to get out of the parking lot and home without wrecking my truck. I only had a little cry after I got into bed. I managed a whole night without nighmares, though, and that's got to count for something.

I suppose I am stuck in a strange place feeling like I am really weak because I had such a crushing panic attack and being proud that I got through it. I'm still sorting out how I feel. I am still trying to sift through the emotions I had and the ones I have now. I'm trying to give myself space and think about the whys and wherefores of a building being a trigger. I can't punish myself for it. I know that. But I feel disappointed in myself. I thought I was stronger.

Kitten says I am being unreasonable. That when traumatic things happen to us that we never really truly recover from them. I would never judge her for reacting to fire the way she does. I would never condemn a person who struggles with an eating disorder or addiction or any other thing that even slightly suggests less than sterling mental health. She's right, I wouldn't.

Is it wrong that I hold myself to a higher standard? Maybe, but it doesn't mean I don't.

AGxx

Make A Wish For Better Days, The End Of Hard Times

When I sat down to dinner tonight I actually took a moment to look around my kitchen, which has a lot of open air shelves around it, and take stock of all the food we have hanging around our house. When I added it up in my head, along with all of the other food we have in the cabinets that do have doors I did a quick estimation and discovered that if I still had running water I could feed our family for almost three months on what I have in our cabinets right at this moment. Then I recalled how when Kitten asked me what I wanted for dinner I thought to myself, "do we even have anything in the house to eat?" and I felt a terrible sense of shame wash over me.

I don't make much a secret of the fact that when I was young and still living in my parents home, we didn't have a whole lot. For whatever reason (and I honestly don't know what it is) we never seemed to have enough to make ends meet. We were certainly lower middle class at best. I remember clothes, until I was in high school, came from my great aunt, my grandmother and at Christmas and Easter. When I was older and I had a job, I bought from thrift stores. We received Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter baskets from churches and charities and I remember them as being a big part of the excitement of the holidays for me, outside of our family gatherings. I don't know exactly to what extent my extended family helped to support us. I have a heavy suspicion that most of my activity fees were paid for by my grandparents.

Whatever the reason, whatever the circumstance, we didn't have a lot. Now, I think about how much I do have and how often I truly take it for granted. I know I do. I mean, I thank Kitten frequently for the hard work she does, and Oscelot too, to make sure that we have food and shelter. We have a decent vehicle. We are all well clothed and well cared for. We get to take trips to fun places on occasion, when we save for it, and they are always special times for us. But on a day to day basis I think sometimes I forget how well off I really am.

Its easy, I suppose. We don't live on an upscale side of town. Our house is probably (okay, is) a little cramped. Its not new, in fact, its about a hundred years old. Our truck isn't fancy, its got a lot of mileage on it. We don't eat out all the time. Whenever its time to get new clothes, we still hit the thrift stores first. Of course, we like the thrift stores...it might be ingrained in all of us by now. Whenever our computer broke down earlier this year and we had to buy a new one, Kitten was genuinely distressed and when the coffee pot (a nice one, one of our few true indulgences) followed shortly after, I remember how upset Kitten was that we were going to drop another 100 bucks for a pot that would probably only last another five years or so.

Still, we don't live paycheck to paycheck. We have a savings account. A couple of them, actually, and we are planning to have more set by in the future. We never want for food. We always have clothes. Our bills are paid on time and we never have to worry about having a roof over our heads or utilities or any other the other things that plagued me when I was younger. In fact, beautiful blessing that it is, for the first time since I was 15 I am voluntarily unemployed and we are still doing okay. We cut back here and there, but we still make it fine.

I say this because I notice lately (and this was brought to my attention by a dear friend of mine) that an alarming amount of the people I know seem really unaware of how lucky they truly are. They are almost always complaining about money and it seems to me that they don't know how good they have it. It frustrates me. I'm not saying I could step into their circumstances and do any better...but I think sometimes they could do better for themselves. I grow tired of people I know complaining they don't have enough money to pay bills when they've just bought a house, or a brand new car (when they could have gotten two decent used ones for the price). I get angry when I have friends bemoaning the fact they can't go do such and such or join in a big vacation because they just spent a ton of money on some other frivolous thing and now they have to buckle down and take care of necessity. To me, you take care of the needs first, and the wants second.

The sheer extravagance of some people I know blows my mind. They complain when they don't get to eat name brands from the store, or when they have to order less than they might want when they go out to dinner because filet mignon is getting pricey. People who eat out every day for lunch and complain when they have to cut back on other things. I think to myself, "pack a lunch."

I know it sounds judgmental  But you're talking to a person who grew up thinking desert (which we have about once a week in my home now, because we're spoiled) was for holidays, birthdays and special occasions. When I was a child The Olive Garden was a seriously fancy place to eat- you dressed up. I learned, both from my mom and my grandparents, how to feed a family a decent meal for next to nothing. Take Lunchables- those decadent schoolday lunch treats- for what one of those costs, to this day I can feed my family a good dinner. And a healthy one. Dinner at McDonalds? I can feed my family for that too. In fact, most coven nights, my goal is to feed my entire coven and well for about $2 a person. Most the time, I come in well under the count. So to me, when someone I know is complaining they don't have any money for food, I think "let me show you how much you can really get for that twenty bucks."

I'm not saying I don't have friends who are in real need. I do. I admire them all the time, because they are making the best of their circumstances and working hard to better their lives. They (as a general rule) don't complain and don't fuss. They do the best with what they have and they never ask for help. But a lot of the time, I think of all the days I spent as a child and in my first year on my own. I think of how I could make $5 turn into dinner for a week (no matter how boring it might get!) and how I knew the feeling, all that time ago, of being hungry, or of worrying there wouldn't be a roof over my head. I remember not having a roof over my head and wondering how the hell I was going to make it better for me. I remember wearing clothes that didn't fit or that were threadbare. I remember making do when there was nothing to be done about it. I think of all the times I passed up things I wanted because I knew I was choosing between that fun thing and helping my family put food on the table. And I think to myself that maybe some of the people I know would have benefited from that experience. The knowing what it is like to really, truly want. To be without.

I would never wish it on anyone I know, don't get me wrong. But sometimes I want to scream when I have a friend who says "Oh yeah, Twinkies were a real treat in my house too. We weren't all that well off growing up either. We were poor too," as we drive away from the quarter million dollar home they grew up in. I hate when someone I know complains about how old their car is when it was manufactured within the last five years. The truck we drive was made when I was a sophomore in high school. The car we have (currently waiting for permanently warm weather so we can fix an oil leak) was made the year I was born. People who tell me they never went anywhere fun, but then tell me all about their childhood trips to New York and Hawaii and Europe, irritate the hell out of me.

Maybe I need to work more on my sense of compassion. Maybe if I grew up with more I would feel deprived too. But I don't. I can't. There's some part of me, always, thinking of the thrill I felt when I got my very own brand new Barbie doll from a Christmas basket and I didn't even have time to be upset about the fact she was a brunette and not a blonde because I was already plotting in my head how I could get scrap fabric from my grandma to make her a nice new dress. There's some part of me that remembers the terror of high school when the groups I was involved in (paid for, by the way, by my nearly full time after school job) would adopt a family from a charity around town and I was just praying to God it wasn't mine, because I knew I wouldn't want to face the pity and scorn of my classmates. There's a part of me that remembers that I would save my lunch money or my clothes money when they did this, and I would go without because I wanted to contribute too, and there was something inside me that had to believe that there was someone out there I could help- even if it wasn't myself. It is this person, the one who knew hungry and homeless and hopeless, that the people I knew wakes up inside me. There is a part of her that screams aloud when I hear them speak, and I listen to her as she tells me all she could be doing with the money they are wasting, to keep her family fed and sheltered.

Hearing her, remembering my own shame and fear, makes me angry. It makes me angry with them. And it makes me angry with myself, because I experience every day a life I didn't have when I was growing up. I wake up, every day, knowing I will be able to eat. That I will be warm. That I will be safe and comfortable. I wake up to love and hope and a future that, while was not what I dreamed of then, is far more than I could ever have hoped for or deserved, had I known what to ask for in my ignorance.

Tonight I am aware of my own hope that I never allow myself to fall into that complacency again. To forget those things is a step to losing what I have- not just the physical, but the emotional fortitude and strength that it took to bring me to this place where I can look back and say, Thank God, I will never feel that way again.

AGxx

I Going Home, To The Place Where I Belong

Today was my second to last day at Casa Bueno. It passed with what I can only call a feeling of ambivalence. Today was my last shift with Shorty and Flyguy. It was my last shift with my favorite cook. It was the last time I will ever arrive forty-five minutes early to work so I can make sure the salt and pepper shakers are filled before the store opens. Its the last time I'll pick up a dozen doughnuts for the Saturday morning crew. Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited.

Actually, I'm really not. I'm not excited. I'm not sorry, but there isn't a sense of elation either. I think part of it is that I'm not feeling the loss of the job yet. I mean, yes, I did say goodbye to Shorty and Flyguy as a coworker today. But I know, for certain, there will be many more moments of my life to share with them. I don't feel like I am losing them. Honestly, I don't feel like I'm losing much at all. Oscelot will still be working there, which means at least twice a week I'm going to be headed up there to drop her off and pick her up from work. I'll still see all my coworkers. I really like the food, so there's no doubt in my mind I'll still go there to eat. It will be the first restaurant that I've waitressed at that I will go back and eat the food.

I think the other reason I am not terribly excited is the prospect of unemployment looming ahead of me. Thursday night when Sakura was over I had him do a tarot reading for me. As he suggested, I asked only, what is it that I most need to know? The answer was clear and very straightforward. And I should have seen it coming. It told me that I need this break. And that I am so concerned with my past issues that I am terrified of what it coming. And it's true.

See, since I was fifteen I've had a job. I've never been unemployed for more than a couple months, and even then I was actively looking for a job. This time, I'm not. I'll be at home. I'll clean, I'll cook, I'll write. But I will not be out making money and contributing to the household I live in. For various reasons, this is very scary for me. I feel like I won't be earning my keep. As Sakura put it, I feel bereft. I feel empty, like I have somehow lost part of my worth. Despite the fact that I am constantly being told otherwise by my family, I feel like this is true. Like I am somehow less valuable than I was two weeks ago.

Sakura says this is a good thing for me, this break. He says he was concerned for my health. He said there was no doubt in his mind that I was putting my health, even my life, in danger with the amount of stress I was putting on myself combined with the physicality of my job. I don't know when to say when. I don't know when to stop. Its unhealthy. He says he's relieved I am taking time to look after myself. I can't see what's coming down the road, and I have to stop worrying about it.

I know he's right. There's no way of telling what lies ahead for me. I suppose that's part of my problem. I've spent my whole life working and I've relied on my psychic sense to give me warning if something new or worrisome was on the horizon. I've never just rested and relied on someone else to take care of me. I don't like it. But I'm going to have to live with it. I suppose that I can take to heart what Tiger has been telling me, which is I need to get back to writing and try to get published. I'm a good writer, and there's no reason I shouldn't be able to make money at it. I hope she's right. But in the mean time, I am being warned I need to write for myself, and with no pressure on me to succeed, because that's when I do the best work.

So, tomorrow, my last day, I'm going to do my best not to stress myself out. There have been a lot of things happen to me since I came to Casa Bueno. I split up with BBD. I had my pseudo affair with Rogue. I ran back into my Kitten, remembered the strength that love can have and married her. I met Oscelot. She moved in with us. We started dating her. I sobered up. I met Spice (who trained me, by the way) and made friends with a wonderful woman who reminds me that intelligence and beauty are valuable qualities. I met Shorty, who reminded me that there is always a reason for our past, because it gives us the strength to love and share with new people in our lives. She taught me that first impressions aren't always right, and that given the opportunity, you can find deep friendship with a person who at first seems like they are not a kindred spirit at all. I reconnected with Sakura and found that I have a deep sense of spirituality in me, and that there are people in this world who can love you for who you are and who are willing to go to any length to help you be safe and happy. I became friends with Adidas, who shows me every day that there is more to beauty than just looks, no matter how beautiful you are (and she is). That tenderness and compassion are sometimes hidden until you look for them, and that youth does not mean ignorance, and innocence doesn't mean naivete. And I met Flyguy, who is, without a doubt, one of the most special, wonderful people I have ever known. From him I have learned that there are people who will keep your secrets no matter what. I have learned trust. I have learned that there are, yes, heterosexual men out there who can love me, find me beautiful and accept my love and affection without expecting anything from me. (Swiss, I beg pardon, I mean of course, men whom I see in person.) I have learned real friendship. He is, to me, the best man I have ever known outside of my Grandfather, which is the highest compliment I can pay him.

Through all of this I have learned so much about myself. I've learned just how far I can push myself. I've learned how far I am willing to let someone to push me. I have learned to control my colossal anger. I have learned that I have more compassion than I thought myself capable of. I have learned that I am able to learn to respect people I thought I despised. I have leaned that I am not as shy as I used to be. I learned I am able to smooth over tense situations, and that I am as good as peacemaking as I am at stirring up trouble. I've learned to keep my mouth shut, I've learned to listen. I have learned to bide my time. My faith in the goodness of people has both been shaken, and also confirmed in ways I thought impossible.

I am not leaving bereft, not totally. I cannot look at the gifts I have received and be ungrateful for them. I cannot look at the love and friendship I have been given and wish I had spent my time better. I told Flyguy today that I am happy I worked at Casa Bueno long enough to have met him. I know fate would have found a way to bring him to me, but I am glad that in this case, I didn't have to wait, didn't have to wonder. I am blessed.

This will be, I think, the last time I ever work in food service. My mom tells me to never say never, but I am going to do everything I possibly can to keep it that way. I may be good at it, but truthfully, my temperament have never been suited to it. I'm taking what I can, and I will use what I have learned to make me a better person.

I'm not sure how I feel, really. Nostalgic, yes. Scared, of course. I am anticipating the coming months. I am unsure of who I am now, and who I may become. I suppose I should be excited about that. There's something beautiful about the wild unknown, right? We'll see. I'm still unsure. But then, I feel so sure about so many things, maybe this is just a new lesson for me to learn.

Oh- and in the process of telling some of my regular customers goodbye, I've found there are actually some of them who like me for who I am and not my waitressing abilities. I actually swapped email and phone numbers with Hot Doctor, whom  I have long wanted to. I figured now was the time to ask, since there was as little risk involved as possible. If I was gone, she wouldn't have to avoid the store because she said no, she didn't want to meet me socially. Fortunately, she is as nice a person as I thought, and she actually wants to attempt a friendship. We'll see. As I told her, she's a little older than me, and a doctor, and I am after all, a 30 year old waitress. There's a bit of a difference between us. Hopefully I'm right, and the mind I've always loved myself for is there, and its something I can still find value in. Something that can win me friends and respect, despite the fact that I have no personal accomplishments to speak of.

I'm signing off. I've written my emotions out, I think. I'll part with these thoughts. Thank you, to you readers, who have been there for me, supporting me in this and all of my wild decisions. I need it, and you never let me down. Also, if you haven't, click my link toSwisslet. He's running a half-marathon tomorrow and he's raising money for cancer research. He's a great guy and its a great cause. Go donate, if you can. (Good luck Swiss, I'll be thinking of you tomorrow, and wishing you all the best!)

I love you all.
AGxx

I Would Prefer She Didn't Empty Her Syringes Into Your Arms

I'm going to preface this post with a warning, I've been a little bit angsty, and I am getting all my issues off my chest right now. This my involve me talking about people in my life. It may mean it involves you. I'm sorry. But this is my space, and its time for me to leave everything on the table and move on. If you can keep handle of the drama...read on. 

Sometimes its difficult to remember that there's a plan. That I have one, and that life and the universe have one for me.

The last month or so has been really interesting for me. I've experienced a lot of growth. I've had a lot of change in my life. We have a new dedicant for our coven. I was getting on track with my bills (oh, my bills, the never ending game of catchup from all my prior bad decisions) I've been growing spiritually, I've been forming and reassessing new bonds with people. I felt like things were moving forward.

Then last week happened. And it rather feels like the rug has been pulled out from under my feet.

First things first, I suppose.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an addict. I don't use now, but I used to. I'm 11 years clean and I take a lot of pride in that. I used to have a big problem. I recognize, too, that those feelings never really go away. Temptation is usually only a line, a pill or whatever away. So I stay away from that stuff. Anyone who has ever been invited into my home knows that's my one hard and fast rule - you never bring drugs of any kind into my home. If you do, that's the last time you step over my threshhold, and its a deal breaker for friendship. If you love me, you'll keep that shit away from me.

As you may have read, I had my wisdom teeth out not too long ago. (two weeks now?) They gave me some serious drugs for my pain. I appreciated it. I can't take any NSAIDS, so ibuprofen and aleve and all those guys are out. I can't have over the counter medication and quite a few of the prescription ones are off limits to me too. So I usually end up with opiates. This is fine, most of the time. I get what I need to get me through, and its over.

The wisdom tooth thing, however, brought to my mind the real trouble with being an addict. I unquestioningly took those pills every four hours for an entire week without thinking about what it was doing to my body. How sad and foolish of me. I know better. Within days my body had formed a habit for them. I didn't really realize it until last weekend when I left my pills at home when I went to work. Then my body reminded me how terrible a come down can be. I had cold sweats and hot flashes. (and let me tell you, when its a 100 degrees in the back of my restaurant, that's an amazing feat.) I was shaky, irritable and frightened. I was paranoid. I was tired and my body was threatening to do all sorts of things, from faint to go into full-blown migraine mode. I knew none of it was real. None of it. Still, when I got home, I took a pain pill because my (lack of) tooth was hurting. I instantly felt better.

By Monday I knew I was in trouble. I turned over the pills to Kitten  in the morning and told her not to give them back to me. I don't need them. Cue a really bad day at work where I spent most of my free time in the back station we don't keep open during the week sipping sweet tea really slowly and trying to pull myself together. I bit off Oscleot's head and I knew I was in trouble when Flyguy came to find me, tried to hug me and make me feel better and I couldn't even relax in his arms. He's the safest person I know outside of Kitten. Bad day.

I think the thing is, I'm really disappointed in myself. Sakura tells me not to be so hard on myself. I mean, I had to take the pain pills. There wasn't an option. And I can't help that my body formed an addiction so quickly. (I still, by the way, want one. Thank Goddess Kitten hid them in case my willpower gave out) Still, I should have waited when they wore off to see how long I could go before I needed another one. As I told Flyguy, other people letting you down is tolerable most of the time, but letting yourself down is impossibly horrible. You feel like the worst person on earth.

After a week of detoxing, and drinking lots of water and eating healthy foods, I've almost returned to normal. I can eat a meal without being sick to my stomach (turns out the doctor was right- that mystery illness I had last summer was a result of my former drug use. The symptoms are exactly the same) I can almost go to the bathroom with regularity. I have leveled out my moods. It will be okay. I'll never be that careless again. Lesson learned. Even if I do feel like a fool.

Over the weekend I also got to deal with work drama. There's always drama at work, but this time it actually involved me. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say, for the first time since I've become a supervisor at Casa Bueno, I stood up for myself. It didn't end well. There's was lots of confrontation to be had, and I hate confrontation. Especially now that I'm trying to get ahold of my anger issues. I don't want to loose my cool at my job. I fought for it this weekend. I was fortunate that I was able to maintain calm. But the long story short is one of our managers left the company and I'm pretty sure the staff thinks this is a direct result of what I did. It isn't, but it will be perceived that way. I'm bracing myself for all the drama that is going to fall out from that. The other supervisor who doesn't seem to particularly like me very well anymore (she used to) is good friends with the one that left, and I feel like I've got to be careful. I never meant to upset or offend anyone.

When we got paid on Wednesday, my check was significantly smaller than it had been. Yesterday I asked about that. It turns out I got served for a garnishment (hello, old unknown medical bills) and someone had signed for me. I missed my court date and chance to settle, and from what I understand, I would have been able to. Now I'll be having to call attorneys and crap to see if I can pay this old bill without the $2,000 interest that is going with it because of the garnishment. Stupid. And upsetting. And the upshot was, no one told me.

I felt like my world had moved a little off kilter. I'm going to try and take care of it next week, but it looks like I won't be getting paid for the work I do for the next two weeks or so...the courts move at a snail's pace. And I'll be working as a supervisor more the next few weeks, so I'm going to be working for free. I've done it before, I love my company so I don't mind taking the hit every now and again. I just wish I had time to prepare myself so I could have some money stacked away. I mean, I did just drop the $1,000 we had laying around on my teeth. Ouch and a half.

Our regional manager is coming in this weekend, and I'm terrified that it isn't going to go well for me. Our GM and HM are going to be out of town. This would be the perfect time for an angry and disillusioned supervisor to throw me under the bus. I'm praying that won't happen. If it does, I'm secure that my GM will get my back when he comes home. I want everything to run smoothly while he is away. So...I'm a little stressed about work.

Cue personal stress in the form of one former coven member who is taxing my limits of perfect love and perfect trust. I won't name names, because I'm a good person. But most of you who read me with regularity will notice when a person who was formerly in a lot of my posts disappears. Yeah. You have this one figured out.

Anyway. This person and I have had a conflict personally over the last few months. To my best understanding, it came from them telling me about some life decisions they were making that they were unsure about. I was clear I wasn't judging them, but I also told them that if they had to ask me how to feel about it, they probably already knew how to feel. One of those decisions involved their life partner, who is also someone I am close to, and it put me in a tough spot.

Over the next couple of weeks they became increasingly angry with me. They stopped coming to coven meetings. They bailed on a holiday. Then they disappeared, only to resurface long enough to try to make amends, get angry when I didn't throw fluffy bunnies and rainbows at them, and then disappear again. The trouble is, the coven notices that sort of thing, especially when the after-effects of their bad decisions start raining down on everyone in the group mind in the form of bad karma. And you know what? They had a right to know what was going on. But sometimes you're supposed to respect confidences.

Last week this person, along with all the coven members, received an email from me letting them know that we were finally putting our governing principles (think bylaws, or code of conduct) in place and that everyone would need to get together to read them and sign them. Its time for us to lay down the ground rules. I thought we could wait until our coven got bigger, but it became apparent to me that no, it couldn't. It was time to start playing a real game, and stop playing Calvin Ball. This person came to me and let me know they were sorry for their actions. Then they gracefully bowed out of membership, recognizing that the code of conduct we had set would probably be something they weren't ready for. I appreciated that, because it was mature, and also saved me the trouble of possibly having to throw them out at some later date.

I told this person, who is an old friend of mine, that they were still my friend, and that was something that would never change. This person decided to test that theory yesterday. I'll admit, I was already in a bad mood. I've been dealing with a lot, I'm post-pill grumpy and I just found out someone at my work screwed me (intentionally or otherwise) out of about two grand. I knew they were coming because we had talked about it. They were coming to have some buddy time and catch up because we haven't seen each other much.

When they got to work they had brought someone with them. I would have been delighted if it had been their partner, because I love their partner with all my heart. But it was someone else. Someone I could have gone the entirety of my life without meeting and been fine. This person was the root of the conflict this person and I had gone through and to me, it seemed like both a slap in the face and a colossal insult to my integrity. I couldn't believe they could be so insensitive. I ignored the part of my brain that said they were doing this on purpose, I want to think the best of people. Suffice to say, I was not charmed to meet this other person, and I was fighting with all the dignity I had to be cordial and polite. I'm not entirely sure I succeeded.

The staff, who knew that me and my friend (?) had been fighting were at first delighted to see that they were there being a pal. Then they asked who the other person was. When I explained they were aghast. Let me tell you something, when a grown adult can shock and horrify a teenager with their callous behavior, its bad. Maybe they just thought that my friends were better, more mature than that. I sure did. Either way, I got several loving pats on the back. At least my staff loves me, right?

So all of this bad stuff has left me feeling a little heavy, a little hurt and a little off kilter. I try to be an upbeat, inspiring person. That's what I was born to do. This week, its been hard. I've had a difficult time finding my serenity. I've been clutching at the straws of my happiness.

I will say this. I'm lucky to have wonderful people in my life. Sakura has kept a running dialog with me about the goings on, and has given me a lot of love. Felix, new to me as she is, has sent me love and light every day. Its an indicator, to me at least, that she's a good person to have in my life. Shorty came over and spent an evening with me. We had a nice time. Flyguy, for the first time in months, made it over to spend another evening with me. I got two whole uninterrupted hours with him. I realize now how very much I had missed his company. There's something wonderful about his sincerity and his lightness. He's like a constant recharge to my personal battery pack. He proves there are good people in the world. He's one of them. My partners have been loving and supportive in all of this. They spoil me rotten. They took me shopping so I'd feel pretty, they cooked me dinner so i'd eat. They held me when I was feeling awful. They understood when I needed space.

My world isn't ending. Last night, at the suggestion of my friend Batik, I went out into my back yard and just sat. I let the earth and the evening fill me up. I let the energy of the garden i love so much tend to me for a change. I watched all my stray kittens play in the yard. I watched the moon rise- and I swear she never glowed so brightly before. I realized this- despite how overwhelmed I feel, it only takes moments for me to be grounded. I have to trust that I make good decisions for myself. I have to give myself a little slack, because everyone makes mistakes.

I've been building a good life for myself. I used to work in construction. Let me tell you- there is never a project that was on time and on budget. There's extra expenses, nasty surprises and sometimes there's delays. Sometimes its so hot you can't hardly move for fear of suffocating. Sometimes it rains so hard all you can do is bail out and brood about how far behind you get. But every now and again everyone pitches in, you get the day's work done and there's time to do a little extra. The boss is pleased with your work. You collect your paycheck and head off to the bar for a beer and a moment to laugh and dance when you put your favorite song on the jukebox. Let me tell you a secret. My life is just like that.

I'm saving my quarters for the jukebox, because its not going to be long before the day comes that I'll be ready to let go and laugh.

I do it all the time, after all.

AGxx

Fight The Break of Dawn

Our lives are about to change.

Last night Kitten told me about an opportunity for her this summer for her internship for school. She has to have one to graduate, and where she interns will make a huge difference for her when the time comes for her to look for a job in the HVAC industry, which isn't too far off. Turns out, their school is taking four students to work for the summer on some huge HVAC equipment. Its the type of stuff she wants to work on, the system work would give her great experience. It pays nearly twice an hour what she makes now and its for three months this summer. Its even a job for the government, which is even better.

The catch? Its at a military base two hours from home. She wouldn't be able to commute and she'd be away from us for the full three months outside of occasional visits. She had to make a decision by today, and she asked me what I thought.

I told her to go for it.

I'm going to miss her terribly, and the thought of being away from her for so long is incredibly painful for me. I hate being away from her for a few hours. I can't imagine how hard it will be to be away from her for a few months. But this is the sort of opportunity she can't turn down. Its exactly what she was looking for. Its exactly what she needs.

Now I just have to get over all of my hangups. Don't get me wrong. I know she's not going to stop loving me. I know that she's the most trustworthy partner a woman could ask for. I just hate her going away. I worry about me doing the bills. She handles all the finances right now. I mean, I can do it. I'm a grown woman. I've just grown accustomed to not doing it. I can suck it up for a few months. We're not sure, but we may have to buy a new car. That's going to hit the pocket book pretty hard.

I know things will be fine, but right now, the prospect of that big of a change is pretty scary.

I've already made a list of things I am going to do while she's away. I'll repaint the house, refinish the porch, add annuals to my already huge rose garden, plant more roses. I'm going to get climbers and train them up the sides of my newly refinished porch. I'm planning on moving all the stuff out of the living room and repainting it. I'm going to find a second filing cabinet and refile verything for easy access. Somehow I'm going to rearrange the library so it looks less cluttered. I've got plenty to keep me busy on top of my job and having Oscelot for company.

I'll have Shorty and Spice and Hedgewitch and Flyguy to keep me company. I already know that if I get sick I have good friends who can watch out for me so I don't have to worry her. I'll be okay. Things will be fine.

I just hope and pray that this is going to be the awesome opportunity that it seems like. I hope that she learns a lot and has a good time. I hope she misses me just a little.

I can't wait to see what this summer brings, literally. I've not been this sure and unsure at the same time in a very long time.

Think of me. Any advice you can give? I would gladly take it right now.

I'm off to find something productive to do while she's in class. Like have a bath.

AGxx