It's not that serious

 There are supposedly five stages of grieving and loss and they are as follows:
denial
anger
bargaining
depression
acceptance

This afternoon I was furious.  How could you after enduring for two weeks what I have endured for  a year and a half give up on me?  How could you be so jealous and immature, so hurtful and cruel?  I wonder as I write this if you meant to push me to my limits.  If you expected me to beg.  If you wanted me to just have the same feeling of fearful loss that you were.  I wonder if you meant for it to go this far.  If you expected me to reign you in.  I was honest with you... I stood my ground and the summation of it all was the non-consensual ending of this relationship we had.

Did the denial come first.  The belief that "we" were strong enough to handle me actually having the relationship you told me I deserved but you were never able to give... or was it in the belief that I would never grow up.  That I would remain this little girl that you had to protect.  You saved me.  You picked up the broken pieces of me, carried me to the tallest tower and put me back together, you taught me how to fly again then continuously cursed me for wanting to taste the wind.

There will be no bargaining for the price is far too high and I have nothing left... I gave you all I had
there will be no depression I've cried for months and months already
there is only now acceptance of the full reality of the situation,
there is only now the relief of no longer being spit apart in countless painful little ways
there is only now gratitude for what was, for your honesty with yourself and your loving me enough to let me go


I'll never have another like You
I'll never be anyone else's young lady

The silence would not have been awkward if I wasn't so obviously lacking in self confidence. You were staring at me again. With that look that instinctively makes me shut up and wanna wipe the left side of my nose to check if something is hanging there.

I have, in the past brushed this feeling aside. But I couldn't this time. I was frustrated and exhausted by spending the last two hours trying not to hold your hand for fear that I had misinterpreted what ever this thing between us was. Plus you're so damn tall. Or at least tall enough to give me that damn look down your nose which makes me feel even smaller.

I turn away from you lean against my trunk and give up.
"I have no idea what to say to you anymore"

"Then I'll talk" you say. We are both silent until I look back up at you. That face you make intensifies for a moment and if I wasn't already leaning against something I would have taken a step back. But it breaks and you actually kinda smile. And I soon realize that it is really your "I want to tell you something but I'm nervous/unsure of myself/think you're totally cute" face. And that I have been seeing it for months now.

"Weeks ago you told me how you felt and when I didn't have an answer for you, you said it was alright, that you were just going to be there and that I was going to fall for you anyway?" I don't remember saying anything that cock-sure... out loud. I simultaneously mentally pat myself on the back and kick myself "You were right. I can't stop thinking about you. And I figured I should tell you before you pounced on someone else, or someone else pounces on you or I lost my nerve."

And we talked, really talked out there in that cold parking lot. You looking directly at me, being completely forward and open with me while I nervously fumbled with my keys. For a moment I wonder if this is how I made you feel when I confessed. Kinda warm and infuriatingly stupid. When you finish all I can say is that you have to use your words with me because I am neurotic. I'll learn your tells eventually but that you have to talk to me. I tell you how I wanted to wrap my arm through yours in the movie theater and you very simply say almost emotionlessly say, almost a-matter-of-factly say that I should have. Damn Vulcan.

"Well I know that I can now!!!" And I feel like I am complaining so I just reach out and hug you. I press my head against your chest and wrap my arms around you and when you put your arms around me. Both arms for the first time and brush your fingers up and down my back I understand that feeling I have been writing about since I was 13. And it's a surprise to me that in 28 years of living, in 9 years of a relationship, after experiencing several different types of touch from many different people that this is the first time I have felt this ...complete and utter relief of being safely encircled and accepted. You lean into me as much as I am leaning into you. And it feels good.

Over a year ago I met a man
he clothed himself  the skin of a slaughtered sheep and presented himself to me. When I discovered him for the wolf he was.I was more annoyed than anything else.  I processed it, blogged about it, let it go, laugh about it now until a few days ago.

I am too close to that feeling I had with him... reaching out with naked fingertips only to be stopped two inches above his skin by some impenetrable and invisible force.

I wonder
if its a sign

A sign that I should not be standing here
Outside this door whose bell I have just rung
Just waiting in the dark with this thing

This present.
The best present, the most valuable one and of the highest quality and worth
it was created nearly thirty years ago in the rich fertile brown silken southern delta
it has been hardened by uncontrollable environmental influences
it has been softened by intuitive, introspective and empathic work
it has been tempered in fires of tests and trial
it has been colored with passionate crimsons, calming cyans, rich ambers, bounteous greens and vibrant violets 
it's not new...
it's been used but that wear and tear and those imperfect factions reflect all those people, places and things that have left its mark upon it... and that is where the brilliant shine comes from.

I am unique
one of a kind
I'm waiting for you to grab me
I'm waiting for you to unwrap me
I'm waiting for you to touch me
I'm waiting for you to let me in, let me close, slip me on and trust me not to fall off, or fade away or break.

But I won't wait long

 It fucking pours

I really hate that expression.  It sounds so pessitimitic.  I want to punch the people in the throat that use it.  But since I already feel like I have been punched in the throat I'm  totally gonna use it.

~Saturday
I wake up bleeding from my vagina.  Since I have not had a natural period in ten years my first thought is "Holy shit I didn't play that hard at the dungeon did I?!"  I force myself to calm down because I have to get to work.  And I heal quickly anyways sooo by Sunday I should be fine.

~Sunday
I spend the first part of Sunday curled up into a ball because it feels like some sadistic bastard grabbed my uterus and started squeezing maybe I did play to hard!!! I call my playmate and ask her if she noticed anything funny on Friday.  To which she said no and asked if I was having my period.  At this point I am embarrassed.  Bleeding profusely, cramps, head aches, motion sickness, craving: red meat, chocolate, sex, the mass slaughter of those found guilty of being stupid...duh!

"Was it always like this?" I moan over the phone.  The answer is yes.

~Monday
Aside from losing so much blood that I am simultaneously fascinated and horrified I  develop general malaise and laryngitis just in time for public speaking. Instead of being down about all these schenaigains I'm pissed.   I'm raising my fist in defiance at a sadistic Matronly Mother Goddess screaming "How could You!?  This is one of the grooviest things I've gotten to do in my life.  Speaking as  part of a panel regarding Healthcare in the GLBTQ community.  I thought You liked us!!!"  

She must have found my  ranting hilarious because the bleeding reached level ridiculous.... by 3pm  I'd lost so much blood that I feel faint. On my way home from work I make a desperate phone call to Terick who comes over to find me half dead and half dressed on the floor of my room.  He gets me dressed, hydrated, out the door, to my destination and back home again with zero super dickery and tons of compassion.

"You're a good man" I say as he tucks me in
"You're opinion will change when you're better"  He assures me
"Fuck you... if I say you are a good man then I mean it you bastard"
"There's the Irene we all know and love"  he kisses my forehead with practiced condescension while I make a feeble attempt at smacking him but I'm weak and tucked in far too well to do so.  So I hiss instead and fall right off to sleep.

~Tuesday
14 hours later I wake up
go to work
go back to sleep for 4 hours at work
work for 3
go home
go back to sleep

Its Wednesday I've figured out why I get the laryngitis.  I'm a mouth breather with sever allergies and the immune system of a decrepit old woman in a dark and dingy cell.   The solution: keep my fucking mouth closed when around allergens like pollen and cats and buy a humidifier.    Waaaay  harder than it sounds trust me.... the keeping my mouth closed bit.

The blood loss seems to be tapering off so my energy level has picked up
and I no longer want to eat dead cows
or strangle two year olds
or the stupid which is especially significant and noteworthy since I'm headed to Reno to dance at a club opening this Saturday.

wish me luck ;)

I have to pause

I have to take a deep breath and smooth my skirt
run nervous fingers through my hair 

because I feel all of an awkward anxious  16
its intoxicating and infuriating

My thoughts slip away
hungrily consumed by some sort of off beat chance

I kick my heels and squeal
I question and doubt, calculate, recalculate and then reconstruct wild theories based on a math I can not even begin to understand.

I cover my face with my hands
hiding the  embarrassment and enthrallment 

I want to cry because my confidence can not shield me as I struggle for composure
my hands burn to touch
my lips eager to taste
my head aches to understand
and my heart
irregular
remembering a rhythm of a not so distant past beats a chilled warning through my bones and at the same time a newborned  yearning cadence that courses wet and warm from hip to tit and toe to crown,

This drum song fills my ears
like a rolling ocean
I'm trapped in the wave
a frantic
a frightened
a fascinated
a fixated
16 

in the sixteen steps it takes to cross the street
reach the door
and say hello

Yesterday I was involved in something very ugly and deeply personal.

I was vomiting

In the middle of rehearsals I was face in toilet retching and sobbing.

Not because of the pain.  Oh I had gotten used to that.  I was crying because I was alone and there is nothing like being so sick that you have to make a diplomatic decision with regard to which end hits the throne first to remind you just how alone you are.  Add insult to injury... they were out of toilet paper which was a pure de la bitch since I had to hurry up and get outside because I had locked my damn keys in my car and AAA was gonna be there any minute.

I had locked my keys in my car because I wasn't thinking... I could not remember the code because I was exhausted from spending the early morning hours in the ER.  Which is probably why I was royally screwed when it came to the whole throne incident.  Steriods are not with out their side effects.  But I had little choice about the roids since my throat was being a complete cunt and swelling.  

This totally annoys me because. I'm rather fond of breathing and swallowing.
(and don't linger on the word swallow you dirty minded freaks)

It's embarrassing.
Not the bodily functions but the reason why I was crying

I'm blessed.
I get sick and its like the almighty PTA phone tree was alerted.
Friends call, soup get brought, I'm tucked into bed, given juice and oranges and company.
I'm sent hugs and affection by those who know me
so I am 
beyond a doubt 
blessed

Its embarrassing because I feel like a weak ungrateful idiot for crying because someone was not holding my hair back.  
I have hair clips for that by the way.
Holding my hair back
I'm prepared.
I found paper
even though my ass now hates me
I'm resourceful and a masochist...
I bantered with the AAA guy when he poked fun at me
Even though I wanted to kick him
then kiss him for opening my car
I'm courteous


And I'm grateful
I am grateful to you
You who are reading this right now and I want thank you for being here for me.  I really do.
 
And maybe this is guilt, maybe a confession, an apology to you... all of you
But yesterday in Oakland while I was on my knees losing everything in me
I just want to go home
to be wrapped in someone's arms
and them to tell me  that everything was gonna be okay
That this whole crazy transition, this leap of faith, this course I've put my feet on.... that it is all okay.  That I didn't have to be so strong all the time.  That they were gonna stand sentient while I slept for a while.  While I rested and healed they like love's solider would stand guard  over me and slay all the dragons of my sleeping fears and living nightmares.


It was a deeply personal moment 
It was a very ugly moment

It was a human moment and while I am human I can not get over how weak and selfish I felt for this desire.  

For someone
who I put first
who puts me first
who is strong enough
to allow me to be
completely and utterly weak when I need to be.

It was this sort of blind romantic thinking like this that got kept screwed for years. And not matter how much I try to change it I keep coming back to it.  I tried to prove to myself that I could survive on my own.  I took two jobs, I worked full time and went to school full time, I helped turn Circle to Coven, I provided support for others while asking little or nothing for myself (to their total fustration).  I moved mountains, walked on fire, swam naked, danced mostly naked, did things I had fear of simply because I feared them,  beaten a raging screaming depression into a most often dismiss-able, laughable mew, and transformed debilitating introversive behavior into bold exhibitionism and enthusiastic extrovertism.

I'm struggling sooo much to be the joyful, loving, free, adventurous, spiritual, uplifting change I would like to see in the world
For me
For my small world
and while I cringe to admit it for that person
This being I have yet to met or have revealed to me.

I'm not looking for this person right now
but that doesn't mean that I don't want them

I'll keep going forward cause I still have a long way to go...
I'll keep enjoying this journey... even the fucked up parts
I understand that my life is now
right now!
It won't end when they enter it
And it certainly won't begin when they get here
if they get here

That wasn't meant to seem as depreciating as it sounds btw.  As I write this the sun is coming up, I can hear day birds outside my window, my mind is filling with all the wonderful things I get to do today!!!! My black humor is already weaving yesterdays trials into a laughable tale.
Its only the time in the early morning... when the night has been so long that I have forgotten the sun that I warm myself with thoughts of this person who may never be, who has neither name, nor sex, nor history only the compatible ambitious deep hungry loving energy that syncs naturally with mine.

But until then
if then
through, during and after then
I having loving friends amazing family

and
I'll always have my hairclips

neil:  I just started my savings account at Bank of America

That wish list I wrote on here… yeah my first request came in. Clarity.

I have a clear realization that regardless of whether or not I join the Universal Ether or get reincarnated as comfy fat house cat whose owner is rich, childless , reasonably mentally balanced, doesn’t believe in declawing, does believe one pet is enough and is totally enthusiastic about kitty couture, bling and organic salmon dinners.

I have the memory of this one life.

This one only to hold onto in this now and if I am going to live it to the fullest then I have to let go of something.

Or rather some things, some ones and some false perceptions like this fake sense of security and the stifling fear of failure. For nearly three years this 60 to 70 hour working week thing has been the safety wheels on my life.

It’s kept me from falling down and going too fast.
It’s kept me balanced and gave me boundaries
But it also kept me from falling in love (with some exception)
in tale worthy trouble (sort of)
and down this rabbit hole that I’m constantly flirting around the edge of.

I am so so ready to free fall and fly with these wings that have been gifted to me though my own journey thus far, wings that have been pieced together from all this pain, pleasure and joy, pieced together with feathers of love plucked from friends with beautiful souls and mentors of magnificent quality.


It’s all come down to tea…

Which is my personal truth #2

Great Tea is not just tossed together. It is not just an accident. The seed has to be planted, the seed has to grow, the plant must be harvested, the harvest must be separated from the chaff, the leaves must be dried carefully, water must almost boil, then the leaves must regenerated themselves in seemingly opposing elements fire like heat and water, and just when they blossom and unfurl once again releasing like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon their life essence gets taken from them, infused changed into something new. For great tea there must be an even greater patience. I myself and my life itself are no different than the tea.

The things that happen in my life are not just accidents… well not everything :).
Life is like the tea. Sometimes we brew it for ourselves sometimes other people brew it for us. We brew with actions, and reactions and thoughts. We pick our ingredients (actively or passively) … sometimes some bastards sneak up behind you and toss something in the mix. Other times we see them put it in and just let it stay… too lazy to pick it out ourselves, or too afraid to displease them.

And when the tea is done we drink

It tastes like shit
We bitch
And pour another cup
Toast and bottoms up
WTF!!!

If it ain't my cup of tea… why the fuck am I drinking it?! Why complain and then do nothing. Why did I fill myself with the same bitter drink over and over again. Because I was worried that if I spit it out I would look like a stuck up ungrateful bitch, I was worried that it was too late to start a new batch, grow new plants and wait for a new harvest, and no matter how appalling the taste was I knew what to expect… and in that there was comfort despite the discomfort.

My mom is taught me all about tea.

An eon ago she laughed at me when I told her I was hesitant about starting everything over. She said that she understood my fear but that I was a silly hussy for using that as an excuse. "If the shoe is fucking up your foot kick it off and if something in your life, whether it be a person, a thing, a job, a situation a habit is not your cup of tea i.e. .Something suitable, appropriate, or attractive to one stop accepting it in your life. Fill your cup with something else and stop being such a silly hussy."

I did it mama.

I made my own precious ever-changing and evolving brew.
I’m protecting it and not letting sneaky bastards toss things in it I did not choose.
I am not allowing fear to dictate the ingredients of my life.

It’s almost ready and when it’s done the first cup of victory will be raised to you.


oh and Juicy if you are reading this Rubenesque Burlesque is totally a main part of the brew ;)

For example: At 12:01 Dan wrote and I quote:
DO YOU LIKE CHIN NUTZ X

At 12:03 I replied:
I'm confused...

Was that question an invitation to suck your dick or was that question meant to convey something other than your painfully apparent lack of social skills, class, judgement and grammar?
I would call you a jack ass but you're from across the pond so I'll just call you a wanker instead.
In answer to your question...well that's none of your goddamn business

happy holidays


wanker
:)