So, I'm actually doing pretty amazing these days.

When I started writing Remember (formerly Broken Angel) I knew it had the potential to change my life.

I knew I was putting a call out to the universe.  I was specifying the person I needed to come into my life and make a permanent change for the better.

I just didn't expect how fast that would happen, or how much my life would change.

- - -

I'm safe, sane, stable and ready to move on.

I still might post here once in a while, but I sincerely doubt I'll have time.  Lots more going on in my world these days.

Thanks for reading,
Goodbye for now,
~ImariiStarre

Ideal Beauty?

I've been using SuperBetter to combat my negative sense of self image.  Today's quest was to find an image of "Ideal Beauty" from another contenent or era.  This is what I found.

This is an image of Venus.  Note the large tummy and small breasts.  Back in the day, this was the Goddess of Love.

Nice!

There is Such a Thing as a Tesseract -

- Mrs. Whatsit,
A Wrinkle in Time

---

Years ago... when it was just the voices... I used to have a whole flow chart written out, just to sort out who was who.

As previously mentioned, we were a lot like a glass cube with a single point of light shining on it.  Whichever side the point of light was focused on... that's the 'voice' that was speaking.

After the breaking, after we had managed to pull ourselves together a bit, we were a lot more like a tesseract with multiple points of light.  It was confusing as hell at first, but as I got to know my selves, I grew to love them.

Something had happened just before the breaking, and it carried over into the splits.

*sigh*  I had to have a medical procedure done.  It was a simple thing, but invasive and painful.  I knew it had potential to trigger some nasty things, causing them to bubble to the surface.

I had been speaking to an energy worker about my propensity to be as the phoenix, rising from the ashes every few years.  This sounds noble.  It sounds as if it's a glorious act of rebirth.  People tend to forget that in order to rise from those ashes, we first have to burn, and it hurts like hell.  But, we both agreed that those shining moments of ascension are sometimes worth the pain.

She had a brilliant moment of inspiration where she suddenly suggested that I could connect to one of my ascended selves during this medical procedure.  She suggested that I could draw strength from my future.

So, while I was undergoing this invasive and painful thing, there was a 'me', from five years in the future, standing there in the room with me.

Then the breaking happened, and three of my voices turned full daimones emerged.  As they did so, they took on the mantle of whoever had been in the clinic room with me that day.

I had a warrior, a healer and an artist.

There was one more, but we hadn't met her yet.  Apparently it's common after a trauma/split like that to have an omega split.  There's an actual term for it, but I can't remember what it is right now.  So, there was me... the Alpha, my three pack members that were different aspects of my perfect self from five years in the future, and the Omega.

The Omega was another me from five years in the future, but she was from a future where everything went wrong.  She watched both her children being torn to pieces, right in front of her.  She just showed up in my mind one day while I was getting a chiropractic adjustment.  All the sudden there was this dark and nasty cave system in my mind, and she was hidden in one of the back chambers.  Naked, dirty... broken glasses... ratty hair and chipped fingernails.

The other daimones went to her, and helped her.  The healer gave her some rose tea that helped calm her down.  The warrior stayed near the entrance of the cave, where she could keep her eyes open for potential threats.  The artist was just there for her.  Comforting her with her presence.

They all talked, and the Omega daimone said that she knew her presence would be detrimental to the rest of us, especially me.  But she didn't want to be killed off either.  She asked to be put to sleep.  So that's what we did.  We got her all cleaned up, dressed in a comfy night gown.  Hair combed and nails trimmed.  Then we gave her a room in the country house and put her to bed.

Heh, then there was Abbie.  I wrote about her in this blog entry.

As soon as Abbie happened on the scene, the Omega woke up.  Abbie was her second chance at being a mother.

--

When I was hospitalized in the psyche ward for six weeks, there were times when the tesseract would actually spin.  Usually in the morning when I was getting up early to load up on coffee.

I would sit in my hospital room for hours... in the quiet... just listening to everyone talk and play and have fun.

--

I don't know what the hell happened to me after I was released...

... but I can't hear their voices anymore.

What really scares me about that is the thought that I'm never going to get better.  I'm never going to evolve into my perfect, ascended future selves.

---

I don't know what that means.

I just know I miss them.

Bittersweet

There was a time in my life when every song by Within Temptation had a place in my mind and in my heart.  Every person I knew was connected to one song in particular, in a way.  

This song... Bittersweet...  This was dedicated to me by one of my other selves.

There's a side of me that has always been strong.  Always able to face fears and overcome them.  That same side of me has been there for others, helping them to be strong.  Helping them to overcome whatever was separating them from being their best self.

And then, one day, I left that side of me behind.  I left her for my daughters father.  

Bittersweet is how she felt about my abandoning her to become weak.  

Bittersweet is how she felt... locked away in some other part of me... while she watched me endure the abuse.  

Artist Unknown

--

I'm happy to say that we're back together again...

But still, whenever I hear that song... I never forget how it felt to be separated from that part of me.

Being Ariste

Copyright (C) Artemis Kolakis

I always used to say that "one more childhood trauma, and I would be a full split".  Personality that is.  

I've had a fractured personality for as long as I can remember.  There have always been very different sides to my psyche.  Usually divided into light and dark selves.  I've always been highly attuned to my inner voices.  Some voices were stronger than others.  Some were even strong enough to have their own names.  

I had no idea that I could endure that trauma as an adult

The Scribbler (movie - 2014)

It was like the person I had been before was a mulit-colored, glass sided cube, with a single point of light directed at it.  Whichever surface was illuminated was the 'voice' that was on top at that time.

Then it was like someone had taken a sledge hammer and shattered the glass.

It took time to gather up what I could of the pieces, and after which we were much more like a tesseract, with multiple points of light.  It was confusing as hell!

Bran was the first person to draw attention to the fact that my voices had splintered off into whole separate entities inside my mind.  Little clues like shifts in my behavior patterns or differences in my handwriting.  Once he'd told me of his observations I began to note the sense of 'missing time'.

Unfortunately for me... at the time I was sans health insurance.  It took some months before I was able to take the problem to my team of medical professionals and ask for help.

During that time, I read Aristoi, by Walter Jon Williams.  He explains the work much better than I ever could, and does so in great detail in his blog entry, Being Aristoi.  The work was highly influential in helping me get the chaos under control, and learning to appreciate my daimones (limited personalities).

Artist Unknown

--

Now, years later, I love the fact that I have so much going on in my mind.  I truly identify as Arieste (a female Aristoi).

I was just thinking about that the other day, and I realized that I need to work my being Ariste into the current Ghost Story: Broken Angel (working title revision in progress).

I decided to look on line and see if anyone else out there was identifying as Aristoi.

I didn't find anyone, but I did find the blog entry by man who coined the term (noted above).  I decided to thank him for his work, and ask permission to credit him.

---

I was introduced to Aristoi by a friend and healer after a personal trauma splintered off my ‘voices’ into unique personalities. I had always said; “one more childhood trauma, and I would be a full split.” I had no idea that I could experience that trauma as an adult, and the result was catastrophic… at first.

Already experiencing the advanced psychosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, I was naturally driven to my care team (medical professionals, healers and friends) to ask for help getting the chaos under control.

What I didn’t expect is that my other selves would ‘overhear’ me as I asked for help getting everyone into the same room, so we could discuss things and decide what to do with my body and when. They all got together and unanimously voted to put me in charge.

It was during this process that I’d also read Aristoi, and it was a tremendous help! We liked… no… we LOVED the idea that having split personalities could be a strength instead of a weakness.

I’m a writer myself… currently in recovery from the original trauma that split us all off to begin with, as well as the subsequent traumas that resulted. I’m working on a story now that is one half autobiography and one half fictional healing journey. It was an idea I had when discussing my personal trust issues with my therapist. I know I need help with my recovery process, but I’m reluctant to invite anyone into my life right now. My avatar in the story is far braver than I, and I am able to vicariously draw strength from her interpersonal relationships as I write them for her. [isn't having a vivid imagination great?]

My long term goal is to publish the story under creative commons, and make it open and public. I want to have it out there as an inspiration to others who may be struggling to recover from similar traumas.

I had the idea today that I wanted to begin self-identifying as an Ariste, and work that into my own narrative. This led me to researching whether or not this is something others are already doing (and perhaps I could find a new social group to interact with) and also led me here.

I would like to formally request permission to include my experience of reading Aristoi into my own narrative.

Your work has been highly influential in my healing process, and I would love to give credit where credit is due as I share that process with the world.

Thank you,

~ImariiStarre

I just checked, and he wrote back!

Imarii, I’m deeply grateful that you were able to use one of my works in your healing process. You have permission to credit me with anything I deserve credit for, and I wish you all the best on your writing venture. 

These are very exciting times indeed.

Now if I could only get one of those wetware implants.  I'd get so much more work done!

SuperBetter Quest: Be the Claus

DESCRIPTION:
Time to make a "naughty" and "nice" list—and we don't mean of neighborhood children…
YOUR QUEST: On one list, write down all of your worries, stressors, and fears. Putting them to paper helps relieve stress and make our problems seem more manageable.
On the other list, write down all of the things you're happy about, grateful for, and find enjoyable right now.
Choose your top items from each list and share them with a friend or post them to your Activity Wall.

naughty

nice

I'm worried about the sustainable stability of my current living situation I'm upset that my daughter is being abused and right now there's nothing I can do about it I'm concerned that I'm not managing my time well enough for the multitude of projects that I have going right now I hate the fact that I've gotten so fat I'm sad that my body is reacting so adversely to alcohol now, because now I have absolutely no recourse for letting things go

I'm very pleased that things are stable enough to maintain an exceptional recovery process I'm amused by the fact that my daughter loves me and tells me she hates her dad I love the fact that I've crawled out of the life-suck abyss and actually have hobbies and interests again I'm glad that Bran still enjoys my body I'm happy that my body is rejecting chemical addiction right now. I think the knitting might just be a suitable replacement

SuperBetter

Is a wonderful tool that can help you gamify your life.  You can use it for anything from dealing with various mental health issues, to weight loss, to quitting smoking.

www.superbetter.com

My not so secret identity is ImariiStarre if you ever wish to connect with me there!

The Differences Between Me and My Avatar

The current Ghost Story: Broken Angel is one part autobiography, one part fiction.  My Avatar, Sharon, is based on me.  She has my past... but not my present.

I think the main difference between us is that she is far braver than I.

When Sharon is presented with new lovers, and the chance at healing in a new relationship, she is hesitant, but she does not turn away.

If I were to meet a flesh and blood version of Peter... I'm not sure the reaction would be the same.

I'm way to afraid of being hurt again.

I would never let another healer anywhere near me.

Writing is FUN!!

I made a valiant effort to participate in NaNoWriMo 2014, but I got sick about halfway through and had to scrap my entry.  It was my first attempt at participation.

When I got the current Ghost Story underway, I realized quickly that it was the first story I had written in a long time that had the potential to go long.  I hadn't written any single narrative that went longer than 30 or so pages in YEARS.  I decided to track my progress in writing it, to see if I could produce a novella length story.  Roughly 50,000 words total.

It's not unlike training throughout the year to prepare for a big marathon run.

Tonight I wrote for about an hour and produced over 2,000 words.

I am very proud of this!!

Erotic Fiction - It's like Mental Masturbation for Emotional Healing

When I told Val that my fire had been extinguished, I was convinced it was an immutable fact.  I was so sure that in order to find that necessary spark to reignite the flame, I would need the flesh and blood presence of a healer, a lover, a friend.

"Spontaneous Combustion!"  She says.

I wanted... to smack her.

... and yet...

Ghost seems to have done just that.

I can't explain it.  All I know is that since I started writing the Ghost Story: Broken Angel, other things have been reawakening in me.

I don't know where it's all coming from.  I just know it's there, and I'm glad.

Convalescent

Val(kyrie)

Good chat with Val yesterday.

She's very impressed with my progress and probably just as surprised, if not more surprised than I am, that our idea of focusing on fortifying me to better cope with the dark times rather, than trying to prevent the dark times is the better plan for my continued therapy.

Given my recovery from acute trauma in record time on Tuesday, I really do think we're onto something.

Also, I noted in Therapy yesterday that it's gotten easier to talk about Set.  I'm placing the blame for that firmly on Ghost's shoulders.  Even Bran understood about that when I told him.  Since I'm coming at the details from the side, and under the veil of fiction in the retelling, there's a buffer there.  The emotions don't come forward and hit me full blast like they did when I tried to write about Set before.

My homework assignment this week is to keep moving forward with the Ghost Story, and to check into Rolfing.

Val has a very good friend who is a Rolfer, and once I had described Set's healing technique to her in detail, she said it sounded a lot like what her friend does.  She gave me the contact information for her friend, and I will call him when Bran wakes up.  Now that Bran has a functioning relationship with Dandy, the three of us can start sleeping together.

Dandy

And this is good because as cuddly as I thought Dandy was going to be, he's just too big.  I NEED Bran right now.  He uses Dandy as his pillow, and I get Bran's comforting presence with me while I'm in recovery.  Soon I'll be heading out to my nest again, but for now I need to be able to lie down as soon as my body demands it, so the bed is better.

Now that I've been able to go into greater detail on how Set's healing worked on me, I think Val is starting to have a much clearer picture of what it is that I lost when he abandoned me.

---

During our session Val also asked me what a Luciferian is.  She said she'd heard me use the term before and it occurred to her that she should really find out more about it.

I explained it to her the same way I explain it to everyone:  The most basic point of Luciferianism is that each individual person is solely responsible for his or her own Enlightenment, Salvation and Ascension.  It is, essentially always a religion of ONE, and beyond that we don't agree on much because each persons reality is unique.

Archangel Lucifer

I also explained that different Luciferians see him in different ways.  Some do see a more Satan-esque like character, whereas I have always seen him as the Archangel.  To me, the closest comparison I can make is Prometheus giving fire to man and being exiled from Mount Olympus.  Lucifer enlightens (illuminates) with knowledge of good and evil, and of the nature of divinity.  He encourages us to find our own divinity within ourselves and to ascend into heaven as gods and as equals and co-creators with god.

My Luciferianism has always taken a bit of a Buddhist flair, which I find strange, but it's the way my spirit works.

Almost everyone I've dated in my lifetime has identified as Buddhist.  Even Bran when I first met him, but he's gone back to his Irish Catholic roots now.

It's important to note that to me Lucifer never fell.  He's still an Archangel and still the beloved of God.  He plays the roll of adversary because God needed someone to help his children challenge those would sully his name by being self serving in their authority.

---

Near the end of the session I was able to delve more into my multiple personalities and help her understand them better.  I told her about the main 3, the Reticent and the Child.

Abbie

The story of how the child came into being is a fascinating one.

I was with my old therapist many years ago, and I had been discussing a small host of issues, and she told me that all of them were rooted in 'shame'.

I went to a healer and asked for his help to help lock into and dissolve that core of shame.

He laid me down on his table and started working the energy, putting me into a sort of trance.  Then he told me to locate Shame and "invite it to the table."

The way he saw things, it was not pragmatic to go through the effort to remove something, only to replace it with something else.  The something is already there.  It would be easier and more efficient to take the something that's already there, and invite it to transform.  The energy remains but it changes attributes.

At the time, Shame had appeared to me as a small, dirty, ape-like creature that was backing away from me and hissing and spitting.  It expected to be attacked.

As it calmed down, I suddenly found myself realizing just how much 'shame' was inflicted on me by my older sister as a child.  And then I asked the question "What if I never had an older sister?", and then the air around Shame began to shimmer and diffuse.  Then, standing right where Shame had once been, there was this absolutely beautiful girl with blonde hair, blue eyes and little freckles across her nose and under her eyes.

I suddenly realized that she was me, and that I was never ugly.

Her name is Abbie, and she's 10 years old.

The House in My Mind

She lives in the compound now with the others.

Her presence has changed the lives of all of them.  Especially the Reticent.

They are the four most loving mothers any 10-year old girl could ask for.

---

Today I paid a visit to Raime for a session with him.

I told him what had happened to me right after surgery and he quickly surmised that the chemicals left in my system from the anesthetic had temporarily disabled my sense of emotional regulation.  Leaving me vulnerable to the onslaught of old wounds resurfacing.  Once that evaporated, I was fine.

He did some work on me, but there is still a lot more to be done.  I'm seeing him twice next week.  He also gave me his thoughts on Rolfing, which would not be covered under my insurance, but perhaps I can work out a barter and trade with a Rolfer.

I have an emergency appointment at my regular clinic tomorrow.  One of the side effects of the surgery is lingering longer than it should and could cause potential health problems.

It's really late, and I've had a long day.

I hope I can get back to writing more about Ghost tomorrow.

One & Done

So, in technical terms I had surgery today...

In not so technical terms, I had a camera inserted in through my cervix, and special 'coils' placed in my fallopian tubes.  

The purpose of this?

Permanent female sterilization.  The coils will gather scar tissue and effectively block any eggs released by my ovaries.

--

Ages ago, when I was first contacted by the spirit of my future daughter, I also became aware of a boy spirit that would one day be my son.  But when my daughters father became emotionally abusive, triggering my escape from hell, followed by an ugly custody battle in which I lost my entire blood family to him as supporters, I decided I could never have another child.  I could never bind myself by blood to another human being, ever again.

Fortunately for me, Bran is in total agreement on this.  

I said goodbye to my son.

Fast forward to a few years later, and I'm experiencing a tremendous amount of cramping and pain during my menstrual cycle.  I'd had a standard copper IUD placed after Misha was born.  It was hypothesized that it was responsible for my distress.  My care team and I made the decision to switch to a hormone based, plastic IUD.  It was all progesterone, so it wasn't going to put me at risk for blood clots.  

By the next day, and on a Misha weekend no less, I was sending her off for a day with a sitter while I sat in the ER for over eight hours just to have them tell me that nothing was wrong with the IUD, and I was fine.  Despite the extreme pain.  (MONTHS later, we learned that the damn thing had either been placed wrong or shifted just about sideways.  Nothing wrong my ass!)

On top if the pain, I also contracted some sort of bacterial infection/inflammation.  

My memory is hazy on the time line details of that week or so of please make the pain stop.  In fact, until 6 days ago, I had completely blocked out one other thing that happened around that time.

It was during this time that I was so physically weakened from pain and infection/inflammation that I had no hope of any attempt at successful emotional regulation, that Set dumped me.  

--

Being dumped like that, at that time, sent me on a downward spiral that cascaded into the following events:

• I lost my health insurance and stable income, in the same week.  
• I went 5 months without psyche meds, therapy or blood tests to check my INR (i.e. 5 months with a life threatening health condition hanging over my head and no way to know if I was safe or not.)
• Eviction from my apartment home of 5 years.
• A suicide attempt.
• 6 weeks in a locked psyche ward.
• 4 months in homeless shelters.
• 2 years of homelessness.

There's more to what happened during those 2 years of hell.  But those are the resounding 'I barely survived this' points.

--

Bran and I did get an apartment about 6 months ago.  

Immediately after moving in I crumbled into a pile of dust.  I couldn't sleep.  I could barely motivate myself enough to eat.  I stayed in bed most of the time.  I stopped taking ALL my meds, including the blood thinners.  Our best guess at the time was that coming out of survival mode had been just as traumatic to my mind as going in.

My INR dropped dangerously low, and yet I still had no motivation towards any kind of self care.  

This lasted about 6 weeks, then I finally started to shake it off.  

--

One by one, I began to get my mental and physical health issues under control.

One of the things on the list was permanent sterilization.  

That one finally came to fruition today.

--

I knew going into this that it was going to be traumatic, both physically and emotionally.  I knew it was going to drudge up all the pain from the years of emotional abuse and on through my getting dumped by Set.  

I took steps and made a few preemptive strikes against the oncoming onslaught of bad to worse.

Partly with Val's suggestion of Journaling and my own brilliant idea of writing a Ghost Story, I've been composing that blog entry since the 4th.  

I saw my chiropractor yesterday, and gave him the heads up.

--

Nevertheless, this morning I was... not okay.  I tried to lighten the mood by making Gandalf jokes and heavily peppering my health care directive with assorted Doctor Who and Supernatural geekery.  Right down to identifying myself as a devout Castian.  However, on the question on how I would best like to die, I had to refrain from quoting Tyrion "In my bed, a the age of 80, with a girls mouth wrapped around my cock."

I don't have a cock.  I just wouldn't have worked out.

I reminded Bran of what to do with my remains, should I expire.

Misha is to handle funeral arrangements.  It's up to her to decide how she wants to say goodbye.  As for my remains... I am to be cremated, my ashes placed in bullets, bullets placed in a glass case:

I also joked with Nick about having himself snipped instead of me... You know, take one for the team.  He chuckled at me and said "No."  Rather pointedly.

--

The IV went in, but it was a bad stick.  Enough to put me out, and then they would try and get a better vein once I was unconscious.  

I went down...

--

I practically woke up screaming.

--

I don't know what the dream was, but I remember being traumatized by the number eight.  As I was coming back up I told the OR it had been a bad dream.  A very bad dream.

--

Wheeled into recovery.  It took me 20 minutes to chew through the clay that was 3/4 of a saltine cracker.  My mouth was so dry and my throat was raw.

The cramping was horrible.  My period on my worst day, squared.

The emotions were worse.  

In my head and in my heart I had been transported back in time to the day Set dumped me (we can still be friends), to the day he abandoned me (I don't want to see you again for a long while), and even my suicide attempt from when I tried to escape life without the spiritual half of my support system.

All I wanted was Bran, and to go home, and a bottle of whiskey.

... well, I got Bran anyway.  He held my hand and I cried.

Home took some time, and before we left there were express instructions for me to not consume any alcohol...  (FUCK)

--

And yet... 

... about an hour later...

I was fine.

I was completely... fucking... fine.  Emotionally anyway.  Cramps were still being bitchy.

While we were waiting to be sent home, I told him a little about the Ghost Story I'd been working on, and he asked to read it.

Turns out he actually LIKES my writing.  WTF?  Who knew?

--

Home... bed... games...

Bran said he was just going to lay down for a few minutes...

He sacked out for 5 hours.

--

It's just nigh of 4 am (next day) as I'm finishing this entry.  I'm wide awake.  He's asleep again.

I hope he likes the Ghost Story.  I'm really happy with how it's coming along.

--

Very related side note.

Bran has been very attentive.  I am absolutely overwhelmed with love for him.

--

So, that's it as far as my reproductive capabilities go.  One & Done.

Things got bad for a few days there...

... in truth, they're always bad, but I'm really good at that whole Radical Acceptance thing.  So, I have a knack for distracting myself from the pain.  It's just that I got a sore throat and my period for Christmas.

I mean... merry freakin' Christmas!  Right?

Anyway...

Like I explained to Val when I saw her on Wednesday, I have limited resources when it comes to emotional regulation.  Things like recent illness, lack of sleep and, of course, getting my period will deplete those resources and leave me vulnerable to my pain.  Keep in mind, I'd also been suffering from some sort of wackiness in my neck that had left me deep in the throws of headache pain and unable to turn my neck.

So there I was... fucked over by my body... suffering.

I finally broke down and told Bran what was going on.  It took me explaining it a few times before he finally got it, but that was my fault and not his.  I'd been holding back from him on this one because I didn't want to hurt him.  I thought that if I told him how much I was still reeling from the breakup with Set, that he wouldn't feel he was enough to keep me happy.  Truth is, we've both done STUPID shit that has hurt the other over the years, but I'd like to think that we've learned from our mistakes.  New dawn, new day, I didn't want to hurt him again.

Turns out, my fears were resolved.  He wasn't hurt, and he didn't feel like he wasn't enough for me.  He even as much as suggested that I go out and find that person, that healer, who can do what he can't and get me better.

Well that's all well and good, and I'm happy for his blessing but... nuh uh!  No way!  The exact kind of person who could help me through this mess is exactly the type of person I'd never trust again.  If the perfect sex mage/sensual healer fell in my lap tomorrow, I'd run the other way as fast as I fucking could.

So, here's the rub.  I'm damaged way beyond my capacity for self repair.  I'll never trust another healer to restore me to spiritual wholeness.  Applying physiological methods is the equivalent of spiritual bionics.  It might help me function better, but at what cost?

So, there it is.  I'm stuck.  There's no way out.  My wounds are too severe and they will never heal without help, I know this to be true.  So, this is it.  This is my life.  I get to suffer, forever.  End of story.

People might ask why I can't let Bran help me.  The honest truth is, he can't.  Bran only knows the physiological side of healing and it's my spiritual body that is wounded.

Bran is my rock, my standing stone, my anchor and my one safe point of return.

With Set, I used to fly.

Then the fucker dropped me and I fell to the ground in a shattered mess of fur feathers.  Had my wounds been properly tended to at that moment, I might have been fine.  But, alas... no help came.  Then the broken things that were knitting back together all wrong were subject to subsequent abuse as well as new wounds being inflicted.  I never had a chance of getting better.

Coming to grips with that has been a very difficult thing for me.

When I explained it to Val, I used Joseph Campbell's Hero Archetype in mythology.  Separation, Initiation and Return.  I've been through this before.  I know how this goes.  Merilyn is said to have gone feral for 20 years in the woods before elevating to the status of the greatest mage who'd ever lived.  Inana, goddess of love and warfare was striped of her worldly possessions, skinned alive and nailed to the wall of hell for a bit.  Even Christ spent 3 days in hell before ascending.  This is a known pattern in mythology as well as in my life.  I've been a phoenix for as long as I can remember.  Occasionally consumed by flames, but always rising from the ashes.

Only I won't rise this time.

I also told Val about Osiris.  Chopped into pieces and scattered to the four corners of the earth.  His loving wife searched and dug until she had him mostly put together but the one piece of him she could not locate, his manhood, remained lost to them.

Unable to become fully restored, Osiris chose to remain in the underworld and allow his son Horus to take over as the sun god.

I am Osiris in this story.  Bran is the wife.  (I won't type her name because it's been tainted)

Another way to explain it is to say that with Set, I was illuminated.  Bran can provide the fuel.  I have tons and tons of fuel, but no spark to ignite the flame.  Set was my spark... and now that spark is gone.  There is no chance of knowing that brightness again because I'm not going anywhere near another match.  Fuck that shit.

Val says "Spontaneous Combustion!"

According to her, if the conditions are right, dry enough wood... the sun too hot... a flame can just start, on it's own.  ~shrug~ okay...  But, I'm not going to try to force it.  I'm  too smart for that.










When we closed the session, I asked if she had any homework for me.  She told me she's always been a fan of keeping journals.  But then I got an idea.  A Ghost Story.

I've turned to Ghost so many times in the past, when I just wasn't getting the kind of love I needed in my life... so why not now?  I'm safe with him.  Maybe if I write myself in a story where I'm being healed, it can have some effect on me.  Maybe Ghost can be the spark?

We'll see...

... and again...

Val is a strong advocate for journaling for mental health,  So, hear I am again, years later.

This blog used to be invite only, but it's not like anyone is going to read this thing anyway, right?  Nevertheless, I deleted all the previous entries and made it public.  Might as well put it out there and then maybe someone struggling with my same issues could find some inspiration and encouragement here.

My one and only concern would be that Set will find this.  He was one of the invited readers before, and it stands to reason that he remembers the blog.  But then again, do I really even fucking care?  Probably not.  There were things I could never say to him to his face.  There was so much that I held back.  If he learns those things here, fine.  Whatever.

If he finds out how I really feel now.  How I really felt then.  He'll probably try to contact me.  I can just ignore him.

Good enough for me.