Crow Guardians

Tired eyes peer out small a window towards the massive tree near the house, branches extended less than four feet away, bright green leaves growing along new, thin branches that inching ever closer to the glass. The reason this should give one pause, is that the window (which is one of very few originals of when the small two-story was built in 1937) is three stories off the ground. The tree in question is even larger, growing up and out of a steep ravine well behind the house, the ancient living sentinel twisting up into the sky, easily dwarfing this home by several stories.

So when I say I'm blissfully surrounded by the forest itself, I'm being quiet literal.

The same tree nestled among other species, namely even taller giants reaching high into the heavens, their trunks so thick that when 50mph wind gust rip passed them, they barely move.

This is where the local murder likes to stop by and peer in at me, intelligent eyes curious whenever they notice me upstairs. They usually peer down into the kitchen, which is directly below me, because this small window now has a portable air conditioner unit installed, so they can't communicate with me like they used to.

Yes, I've become good friends with the crows that live in this area. They do in fact follow me around town whenever I leave the house, keeping a close eye on me to make sure I'm safe.

They even bonded with my Mom when she was here and when she had to live in a small motel room for awhile further away. I made sure she was introduced to them and because she would feed them and greet them whenever she was outside, and they naturally fell in love with her.

There were a few times they would come and actively wake me up in the other room where my bedroom is, another window faces out into the front yard, just over the mudroom of the front door. I would get up, call out to them that I was up and they'd quiet down...or one time, I was downstairs in the living room, to the right of the front door where windows line the same wall as the front door and the wall facing the neighbors house of our shared driveway.

That day in particular was almost out of a Hitchcock film.

A large group of my corvid friends had surrounded our house, noticing me moving around downstairs and starting calling out to me, swooping down low between the houses to get my attention. They seemed almost panicked as I greeted them, and I suddenly sensed I needed to call my Mom. So while I was sitting on the couch that's pressed up against said wall, I had her on speaker phone. When she answered, she could hear them and I told her they wanted me to call her.

Come to find out she had needed to be taken to the hospital for some reason (her health was getting worse at the time) and she had noticed the crows where she was had seemed more lively than normal.

The part that always gets me, is that as soon as the crows heard my Mom's voice over the speaker, they all instantly calmed down. They had made sure I checked on her.

I had created a similar bond with the crows in southern California over many years before we eventually moved up here in June of 2019. I even have videos of them surrounding the house I lived in, playfully chirping at me in their family's dialect as if I had been accepted into the flock.

Crows have always been with me, among other animals for as far back as I can remember.

Raccoons, squirrels, pigeons, geese, coyotes, hawks, owls, deer (the list is ridiculously long lol) etc. No matter where I find myself, I can always rely on the fact that I'm never truly alone.

-grows a small smile and takes a tentative sip of her fresh cup of scolding coffee as The Eagles, 'Hotel California' spills through her headphones-

Whenever I've not felt my best, either emotionally or physically (more often then not it's both) all it takes to pull me out of it, is to spend time with a non-human animal. I used to frequent Petco just so I could interact with the critters. I can't really describe the peace that sweeps over me when I communicate with them. It settles something inside me.

Well, my brain seems to have gone quiet (shocking I know lol) so I'm gunna end it here for the day. On that note, I shall bid thee luvlies, anon.

-Adieu

Just a glimpse in the trees

 (Started at 12:13pm)

The soft whirring of a box fan to my right pulls cool, fresh forest air into the kitchen where I sit, a hot cup of coffee placed on the old kitchen table before me. A table that belonged to my Dad that is actually older than myself.

Gentle bird song drifts in, spring having taken full effect, the trees now vibrant with lush new growth as flowers bloom and face the early afternoon sun. A break in the typical Pacific Northwest constant rainfall.

It reminds me of those late mornings back when I lived with my Dad in that apartment near the sea. When the early morning fog would start to burn off with the marine layer, the chill of the ocean on a playful breeze as green parrots chattered in lively groups like a bunch of unchaperoned flying toddlers in the nearby trees outside our windows.

The peace it would bring me was like no other, until I found myself here in this fairytale-like home, tucked away on a small hill, surrounded by a temperate rainforest, teaming with life.

Clear skies are a rare occurrence here, as we're usually graced with constant rain, a much welcomed change from the long hot days of sunny southern California.

A soft murmuring meow sounds to my left, my orange feline Son Jonesy, (who will be turning 7 years old this coming June) asking politely for my attention as I sit here, typing my thoughts down into my smart phone.

Maleficent, aka 'Mal' (she'll be turning 4 years old this November) comes sauntering over, her lithe black form gently rubbing against the legs of my chair, the long silky fur of her tail tickling my thigh as Jonesy, who's easily twice her size, hisses in annoyance at her nonchalant presence. That's siblings for you.

My other daughter, Regina aka Reggie, is lounging somewhere in the living room, she's also rather large for a female cat (she'll also be turning 4 years old this September) her Bombay black coat spotty along her round form due to ripping her fur out after losing GIR (who had turned 18 last Dec 31st) on January 23rd. Even her short stubby tail has patches missing due to her grief.

Yes, they Are my children despite being tiny house panthers. Since I'm half wild myself, I don't see much of a difference. Kids are kids.

-chuckles and takes a drink of her coffee-

You know, I find it rather odd that we had fog this morning (fog here on the old hill isn't all that common). It never quite reaches our house but it surrounds the property...as if pushed back by an invisible barrier by the forest itself.

There is something magical about the area I currently call my home. The trees here are ancient and the land itself carries an energy of unseen things that are very much aware of us.

I've always been sensitive to the world beyond our human sight since I was 6 months old, in diapers and could barely walk, let alone speak. I remember very distinctly that I couldn't remember faces but I remember people's Scent and their Voice. I had no idea until many years later, that it's normal for munchkins at 6 months old to not recall their parent's faces.

Weird, huh?

Anyhoozle, back to the spoopy mystical crap.

I've been to many places where the echo of the past lingers in the ground, the surrounding area. I could feel the weight of the emotions, the scars of painful yesterdays. The residual human imprint left behind. It's normal for me.

However, once I came here to this small town in Washington State, I was met with an entirely different energy. Instead of feeling the heavy stain of people (that somewhat hostile, unwanted 'colonizer' energy), I was welcomed by nature itself and something far older that seemed curious.

For the first time in my short existence I genuinely felt safe. Welcome.

I wish I could properly convey how healing it's been to live here where there are things existing just outside this house that are as old as the land itself and not once, have I felt threatened. Sure, it was mildly unnerving the first year living here as I became accustomed to the strange things that go bump in the night.

But overall, it was the best decision moving up here nearly 7 years ago this coming June.

One of my favorite things here is that we actually have seasons and I get to experience the shift in nature as it happens. Back in Southern California, living near the ocean or my time living in the arid desert near Palm Springs, we had three modes; hot, dry and wet. I honestly don't know how I survived for so long, considering my body is actually built for colder temperatures. Anything above 68°F becomes too warm. 70°F is pushing it...oh, that's because the humidity here is 90%.

-grows a small smile and shakes her head, coffee nearly gone-

Gotta love half-asleep ramblings of a barely caffeinated moon brain. 

-/-

It's now 6:28pm and I'm workin' on my...fourth cup of coffee. I know, it's a problem. A delicious problem. -grins and lets out a laugh at herself-

I dunno why I say the things that I do, it's been a life-long issue I still have yet to resolve. The whole, 'I Open My Mouth and Words Fall Out.' I swear I need that as a warning label on my person whenever I leave the house.

-scoffs softly and shakes her head as David Bowie's 'As The World Falls Down' spills through her gaming headset-

So what's next for today? Honestly, no clue. Try to power through the agony surging through my spine as best as possible. Some days are easier than others, it just depends on my nerves and if the feel like being absolute asshats, as they often tend to be.

Anyhoozle, I also took a picture today...well, a few but only liked two of them. I'll share one here that I haven't shared anywhere else. Not the biggest fan of how round my face looks, but I thought it came out kinda...I dunno, nifty?

On that note my luvlies, I'm gunna jet.

-Adieu

Something To Talk About...

A dull ache trickles along damaged nerve endings as a crisp breeze whispers passed, fans whirring quietly in the background as they pull fresh spring air from the open window, the surrounding forest watches like ancient sentinels, sunlight muted behind a layer of clouds, promising rain.

Small fingers move as the mind struggles to remember the strange dreams that echo behind tired eyes, sleep still clinging to sore muscles as a fresh cup of hot coffee sits nearby, ready to be consumed as tiny whisps of steam curl above the Nightmare Before Xmas mug.

A small smile curves full lips as music swells within the gaming headset placed over sensitive  ears. Another random playlist, music consisting of classic rock a set of brothers who drove a '67 Chevy Impala would be seen listening to as they drove lone two-lane highways towards another hunt.

-takes a sip of her coffee as Bob Seger's 'Night Moves' finishes and Bad Company's 'Feel Like Makin' Love' begins playing, she glances over the rim of her mug at the list, chuckling softly as Kansas' 'Carry On Wayward Son' is set to play next-

The smile remains on her tired face at the oddness of it, realizing with her high arched brow knitting together curiously that her dreams had also been themed after her favorite show 'Supernatural'. That before she woke up, she remembered receiving a facetime call on her smartphone of non other then the old beloved hunter himself, Bobby Singer. He was reaching out to her on behalf of the Winchesters on a case they were workin' on.

She hasn't dreamt of them in some time. Hell, she hasn't even watched the show in quite awhile for that matter since it switched from Netflix over to Peacock's streaming service. Not that she'd need to, having seen the entire 15 season series Several times up until this point.

She immediately stops as 'Carry On Wayward Son' starts playing, finding herself singing along, a wave of warm nostalgia swimming down her frazzled spine.

But the happy feelings are fleeting as a stab echoes in her lower back where her spine sinks into her pelvis. A soft growl slithers past clenched teeth, annoyed that even in a simple moment where she's not even moving, her body reminds her of just how broken she really is.

A quiet sigh of defeat leaves her as she shakes her head, focusing instead on getting her thoughts to fill the screen before her, actively trying to do what she used to in the past and write as soon as she could once she woke up.

-she reaches over, taking another hefty drink of her coffee, enjoying the way the heat slides down her throat as Bad Company's 'Shooting Star' begins playing and she finds herself swaying despite the pain she's in-

I'm diggin' the theme for today. Like I poetically mentioned earlier, I did dream of Bobby himself, his gruff face peering back at me through the screen of my phone as he adjusted his ballcap. He was annoyed at the boys being reckless and had reached out to me about a case they were about to fumble, knowing I actually listened to the old hunter and had a better grasp on the particular monster Sam and Dean were about to face. He wanted me to head over to them and meet up at the motel they were staying out while too far away from the bunker. I agreed with a laugh, seeing how frustrated the old hunter was.

I honestly miss dreams like that. Where my brain places me in the actual world of the movie or tv show universe I love as an active participant. It's a really nice escape from the hellscape I have to wake up to everyday.

And no, I don't mean life. I mean the broken meatsuit I happen to be occupying currently that doctors are stumped on how to treat. The damaged nerves along my spine is irreversible; they can't do anything about it. Somethin' about an aftereffect of living in survival mode from the age of 6 and on. Living with severe Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD) has its unwanted perks.

Don't be like me kids. -she smirks and takes another drink of her coffee when she quirks an arched brow as David Bowie's 'As The World Falls Down' spills through her headphones, looks over and notices Aerosmith's 'Angel' is next-

Weird song choice, but okay.

You know, it's nice to just let myself type away again. My brain is calm enough right now from the eventual white noise that will fill it once I'm more awake to be able to sit down and just...let myself ramble on. Not that I really expect anyone to be paying attention to my tiny blip on the interwebs.

That's once of the reasons I started this blog so many years ago. It wasn't to gain attention, it was just so I had my own little outlet that I could share if anyone was curious enough to take a glance at. Sometimes it's nice to read someone else's thoughts/feelings/etc. Like a mini escape from your own chaos, given a small glimpse into how someone's mind works. Since mine is a perpetual hamster wheel forever spinning at high speeds while teetering dangerously sideways, I know someone will be entertained.

It also allows me a look back at how I was feeling that day, what I was going through at the time of sitting down and allowing myself to type away.

-lets out a hearty laugh when Guns N' Roses, 'Paradise City' begins thundering through her ears-

Yeah, definitely love the songs the universe is sendin' my way. They're all on random too. This particular playlist is a bit of an oddball because the songs I was listening to yesterday were none of these, especially before I finally crashed for a few hours.

From previous entries you'll know I've struggled with sleep for years, especially when Dad got sick and he had me up every few hours to every thirty minutes. There were long stretches of time that I was literally surviving on maybe 8 to 6 hours of a sleep in a Week. Yeah, I don't know how the hell I got through that...considering that went on for Months.

-shrugs and takes another drink of from her Nightmare Before Xmas mug, body slowly swaying to the song she loves belting out when no one can hear her-

Another perk of living in a cute fairytale like two-story house surrounded in thick temperate rainforest is that when I do decide to cut loose and really sing, I know the neighbors (which there aren't too many and the ones we do have, are lovely humans) don't mind, or think we're blasting music upstairs where I'm currently hiding. The only ones that actively care, are the local Murder of Crows that swing by, checking in on me through the windows while perched in the nearby branches of ancient trees. It's nice.

-stops mid type when AC/DC's 'Back In Black' starts playing and grows a ridiculously bright smile-

This is fuckin' awesome -chuckles softly and shakes her head- I really needed this today.

-pauses to take a look at how much she's actually written- Wow, I've really just let myself ramble away, haven't I? Heh...guess I missed this.

Well my luvlies, I think this is where I'm gunna call for today. My coffee is almost gone and there's more downstairs in the stainless steel 8 cup camping percolator (cowboy coffee is the BEST coffee honestly) waiting for me on the stove that needs my attention.

Thanks for hangin' out with me :) -pauses one last time as Bonnie Raitt's 'Something To Talk About' starts playing through her gaming headset-

On that note, anon.

-Adieu

Been a minute, hasn't it?

Warm sunlight pours through high treetops, a living forest seeming to exhale and sway as a cool breeze whispers past. Cherry blossoms emerge in clusters, their soft fragrance brought in through the open window, dancing along my acute senses. The scent is calming as the energy around me remains calm, peaceful almost as I sit before a wide monitor, watching as white text fills a dark space. Small fingers dancing with an expert grace along black keys, a soft red glow illuminating the dark keyboard.

A haunting beat pours into my ears through a set of gaming headphones, sending tingles down my aching spine as 'Mercy' by Hurts plays on repeat finding solace in my quiet contemplation hidden away from the world.

Many years have trickled by since the last time I willingly shared my poetic-prose with the world. Nearly seven years to be exact. Why I haven't...I'm honestly not all that sure myself. A lot has happened, a lot has changed and I'm just not the person I once was. In fact, she doesn't look back at me anymore whenever I see my reflection in the mirror.

-she pauses to take a hefty drink of fresh coffee from her Nightmare Before Xmas mug and smirks-

I've been wanting to write something, to share. I did struggle for a long while as to why I'd even want to in the first place. That age old, "what's the fucking point?" Yeah, I went through a heavy patch where I just didn't see the point to any of my old creative outlets.

I realize now with a quiet sadness, that when I go back and read through old posts, I'm painfully aware of the struggle I was going through. Where I was trying desperately to hold to myself, to stay intact when I was literally coming a part at the seams.

The levee finally broke. Everything I thought I was, what made me who I am...shattered.

This is what's left.

I'm still me, just different. Quieter. Less likely to speak up, to share. Definitely became more reserved even if I miss sharing my life. It could just be another rough patch, trying to navigate how to be open again while still remaining private. It's possible, I have done it before. Guess I just need to be a little cryptic until I can find my footing again.

I suppose I needed time to figure myself out, what was actually happening behind my eyes instead of just pushing forward without stopping. Living in survival mode for so many years wasn't intentional and it did finally catch up with me. Like a brick to the face.

There were things about myself I needed to face head on, painful truths about negative energies I kept allowing into my life. I recognized very specific patterns and actively worked on them. In doing so, I had to take a step back.

Not gunna lie, it fuckin' sucked. Realizing that there were...toxic types I kept allowing close to me due to being raised around that as a child and my nervous system thought it was normal, that it was safe because it's all I knew. Once I really looked at it and myself, I made the appropriate changes to finally get myself on the right path again, even if it was painful at first.

No one likes admitting they were wrong. No one likes to admit that they were responsible for the negative people they kept allowing to get close to them because it was all they knew. Negative attachments. One-sided friendships that were never really a friend in the first place. I just couldn't see it.

That's where the healing comes in. When you do the hard shit first and feel like an open wound trying to clean up the mess you've made. It's not pretty and it really does hurt like hell.

I am better now, well...for the most part.

I took a step back from everyone because I knew I had to face myself. I had to have a long hard look at why this shit kept happening and knew it was solely based on my own decisions. I had no one to blame but myself. So I did the work, quietly.

I think I'm finally at a point where I'm healed enough to step forward again and stop hiding myself. I really did miss sharing little tidbits of my life. Missed social interaction. Probably why I'm pushing myself to sit here and type this out.

We all go through ups and downs, tis the nature of life and all its lovely complexities.

You know what I really miss? Going to Renn faire. My Faire Family. So fucking much that I feel my chest ache. I hope this faire season brings a lot of joy to those who are able to go. Know that I'm thinkin' about you and miss you all terribly. I also miss that side of myself...she's been buried for a long time now.

Anyhoozle, I think that's where I'm gunna leave it for now. Is it the best update after seven years? Probably not, but hey...at least it's sumthin', you know?

-gives a small smile-

On that note, I shall bid thee anon.

-Adieu

Carry on my Wayward Son...

Moments stretch out like a languid hand, graceful unseen fingers caressing the sands of time in a methodical succession of loving repetition. It's in these shifting fragments, misplaced and floating within the void like fireflies flickering in and out of sight, that an overactive mind becomes still and complacent. Attempting to make sense of the spiraling chaos of imagination that dances like macabre shadows behind these focused eyes. Watching as a ghostly white face of a monitor fills with the delicate shapes of words that spill from swaying fingertips along black keys.

A pause. Jawline clenching in thought as the mind tries feverishly to find the correct prose to convey the thoughts that flow like a rushing river that's escaped past a broken levee from within. So much to say, yet somehow unable to properly explain it all. It is here that I am at a loss with myself.

Trauma does strange things to the mind, especially one whose ability to remember very intricate details of memories stemming from being in diapers, it really takes a toll. You don't just find yourself remembering the images, but the feelings, the smells, the sounds and the hyper focus of someone's expression. It's a terribly intense experience, especially when it is of many separate traumatic events that sometimes come spilling forth in one horrifying wave. Even harder still is to be immersed in the exact same setting, everything in the exact same place when something truly mind shattering had transpired and yet things have changed for the better. It's akin to being forced to live in the ruins of your home after a monstrous catastrophe had transpired but you have nowhere else to go. Trapped in the reminder of the hell you've gone through. It does things to you...

It's made the healing process much harder when you feel like it might repeat itself. What was once your sanctuary, your safest space...has been corrupted and stained. It leaves a residue; painful and poisoning as it continuously seeps into the pores, weighing down on you...suffocating. The pressure becomes nearly impossible to escape and you desperately wish you could make your screaming brain finally silent. To make it stop. Dear gods make the pain stop. But it doesn't stop. It's relentless in its pursuit to drive you to the very mouth of a ravenous abyss where inevitably you'll be swallowed by your own wailing lunacy.

That's a pleasant image, no?

Beyond the mental and emotional struggles, there have been the issue of health. Namely, my body had decided it was done with the insurmountable magnitude of stress that had piled up over the last seven years and began to break down. Years of running on empty had finally caught up with me and a chronic illness I've lived with since I was fourteen years old had revolted with a vengeance. My usually overactive immune system decided to go on strike and began failing. Last year, I had not one very high fever, but several in succession which left me increasingly weak and in tremendous amounts of pain that could not be quelled by any means. It made me very aware of my own mortality and that I was in very real danger of expiring much sooner than I'd ever imagined. I also realized that due to my quite morbid mental state, it was in fact having a huge effect on my body. In short, terrible thoughts of simply no longer existing had caused my body to start to fail. Talk about a terrifying wake up call. I was in no way ready to die... Realizing I was actually causing my system to shutdown, I quite literally scared myself into getting better. Like a light bulb had been switched on in my dusty brain-pan and everything went back to normal (well, as best as it could while being buried beneath so much debris).

The most amazing thing is how much I've bounced back in recent months. Once I convinced myself it was time to get healthier and to no longer depend on outside means to heal or to cope with pain, my body responded beautifully. I'm no longer dependent on strong medications to get by hour by hour. In fact, I convinced my body to have an allergic reaction to anything stronger than over the counter pain relievers. For the first in nearly eighteen years, I'm completely sober. Well, beside the occasional ibuprofen or caffeine. I rarely if ever drink alcohol (due to how I used to need 138 proof absinthe just to feel anything). My chronic illness has become increasingly easier to live with and I know that getting back into shape will also make a huge difference. I'm still not where I was physically a few years ago (gotta love emotional eating) weighing in at 195lbs instead of a much healthier 168lbs. So I've got some work to do...which wasn't easy to do before considering how much pain I was in despite having very strong painkillers in my system. When my body says, “NO.” I have no choice but to comply.

Getting back into a healthier place physically and mentally isn't as easy as it used to be. Thirty five isn't that old, but it makes a difference on how fast I recover. I'm grateful that it's happening now rather than be too far gone and not be able to change myself for the better.

I truly do feel better. One day at a time I've battled with myself mentally and despite it taking longer than I'd have liked, I'm finally seeing results. The panic attacks are fewer and far between and the anxiety has become a low trickle. My ability to function has greatly improved and my chronic pain is lower than it has been in years. The insanity brought on by a nervous breakdown has finally become nothing more than a whisper and I can think back on memories rather than drown in mortifying flashbacks. There's a new kind of peace growing inside of me and I am incredibly grateful for it.

There is also the promise of change in my future. One that is literally just around the corner. A new chapter to begin when I gather my earthly possessions (Eleanore included), retrieve my feline child GIR from my Mom (driving long hours with a cat will be interesting to say the least lol) and travel far north. I'm leaving California behind. Letting go of the noise and heat for the crisp forests of the pacific northwest. To start fresh with my amazing partner in a house of our very own. A place that will help us both heal from the tragedy of our pasts.

For many years I've wanted to move north, but like any interesting story, the plot changed mid chapter and I was faced with filling the pages with experiences and lessons that needed to be learned first before getting back on track. The story demanded twists that I was grossly unprepared for. Thankfully, I've gotten past that character arc and can finally move forward.

Don't worry, it won't be til after the faire season has come to a close. Just before summer graces our world with the promise of endless sunny days and star-filled night skies. I will not miss the heat. Yet another reason as to why I'm heading far north. My body has decided that anything over 75 degrees Fahrenheit is unbearable. I suppose it's my body's way of telling me that in order to continue healing I have to be in much cooler temperatures. Since I'm not gettin' any younger, my health comes first ;)

Also, with my mental, emotional and physical health recovering, I'll be more inclined to be more social. So you'll be seeing/hearing more from me on social media. I miss sharing what I can with everyone I care about. I enjoy engaging with my loved ones, even if it's not in person. I'm also cautiously excited about what comes next... Maybe it's the push I need to create something amazing? Guess we'll have to wait and see.

And on that magical note of doom... *Laughs when ASIA'S 'Heat of the moment' starts playing* I shall finish my second cup of coffee and find something interesting to distract myself with.

Adieu.

Well, hello there...

It’s been far too long since these hands have glided across darkened keys. Words trapped behind silent eyes, desperate to escape, to be unleashed. To shatter these terrible walls built up by a wounded psyche. Nothing more than a leviathan of scar tissue left in the wake of unimaginable mental torment.

Somehow…deep within the shadowed remnants of a broken spirit, a flicker of something remained. The smallest thing, nothing more than a trinket it seems of what used to be… By the grace of the unknown, survived intact.

I never meant for radio silence. To simply cease my activities as if I never existed. Sadly, there was a part of myself that wanted everyone to forget. So that I could crumble into a heap of my own self-hatred. But as many of you know…I’m too damned stubborn to simply disappear, despite nearly being successful this time. I had to heal and for the life of me, no matter what I tried, I had to slink back into myself and go still. No, it was not an easy decision to make. I just didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. My own reflection became a living nightmare. In fact, in my place was a monster from my childhood…peering back at me through these haunted eyes. It became a daily struggle to even chance the smallest glimpse of any reflective surface, knowing that this monster shared my features. That in doing so I wouldn’t see myself but the horrible reminder of the thing that nearly ruined my life.

So much time has passed, as if I’ve been isolated within a hell-scape I wasn’t aware I could awake from. Struggling to remember, to search through my fragmented mind at what was real and what was my own twisted creation. Swallowed whole by a ravenous ID.

“Change my appearance” I thought; which would do some good. So I tried dying my hair black, but that only made me feel invisible. Later I stripped the darkness away and went back to red…but the fire in me had gone out. There was only one thing I could do…so I chopped two feet of hair off. Only to proceed to lighten my hair through bleach baths and went golden blonde. Now… I want to change it again. Possibly back to my natural color or back to red, but I’m still on the fence. Because I’m also fully aware of the simple fact that in order to feel confident in my own flesh again, that turning point in my mental state must first come from within. A feat that has not been an easy one.

I’ve wanted to express so much to all of you, thinking that perhaps if I just filmed videos about it that somehow it would help. Sadly, that warped inner perception snarled that if I did, I was just doing it for attention. That I needed to stay on course and remain trapped in silence. That I had to suffer. Alone.

Well I’m done drowning.

In the face of experiencing flashbacks from an assortment of trauma, it has become easier. For the longest time I would shatter into numbing panic attacks if I even thought of stepping foot outside. Driving; a once soul-fulfilling experience became nearly unbearable. I was literally trapped inside my own body while silently screaming to remember what it was like to be normal. To just be. It has taken over five long years for Eleanore to be road worthy again and the first time I got to drive her on my own a few months ago was absolutely horrifying. Through blurring vision and trembling hands I managed to push through it.

This is one of the reasons as to why I chose not to work faire this year. I didn’t want to just jump back in when I wasn’t sure how my psyche would react to it. I did manage to visit briefly for one day of Pirate weekend just to see how I would handle it. It’s only by being there did I realize I had made the correct decision in returning as a patron. I wanted to enjoy myself this time and I did. That added responsibility of working/volunteering may have thrown me off the edge again, which was not something I could mentally afford after the progress I’ve finally been able to make. Last year proved that simply trying to push myself just wasn’t going to cut it this time. You can bring a horse to water but you can’t force it to drink. Lesson learned.

After doing much internal searching of my own fragmented mind, I’ve also realized that no matter how hard I’ve tried to force the pieces of myself back together, they just don’t fit right anymore. I am not the same person. Neither am I the ‘empty husk’, vile words spoken by the twisted voice deep inside the recesses of my soul. I am nothing more than an amalgamation of everything I used to be and might be. An old car that’s undergone an engine rebuild. The body is a little dinged up, the paint chipped and rusting in some spots but it’s still the same faithful machine that will get you to where you need to be. Like my beautiful Eleanore; we both needed some time in the shop before we could venture out safely again.

For the time being I’ll end it here. Gotta admit, kinda impressed I was even able to write in the first place considering it’s been a few years since my last update. I won’t make any promises about writing daily again. What I can offer is that I’ll try. Even if it’s an unimpressive drabble of thoughts piled into a few measly paragraphs. It’s better to try and fail, than sit back and do nothing as the forked tongues of unseen horrors whisper terrible lies to a fragile mind.

And with that, I shall bid thee adieu.

-Onyx

Careening through the universe

Broken fragments of time whisper along a cool breeze as summer fights against the early essence of fall while an otherworldly orb, bloated with an ethereal light, lifts into a dark blue velvet sky. 

I try, time and time again to remove these wayward thoughts from their tangled cage. Just so that they can travel from fingertip to keys; black font filling the white void of this computer screen. But they make no sound as they leave me. Shattered pieces of a soul that finally understands that time does not heal all wounds.

It’s become a struggle to create poetic prose. A thing that in the past was came as natural to me as breathing. Now, a horrible wall with jagged edges stands within my path and there is nothing I can do but try to scale it despite how weak I have become.

The moving sound of Third Eye Blind’s ‘Motorcycle Drive By’ fill my ears, filling me with the warmth of fond memories from my early teens. Staying up far too late with my best friend, away from the overwhelming heat of the desert sun, talking about our hopes and dreams of our futures. The days that held a great deal of heavy emotions and yet such amazement for the world itself. The moments we felt so alive and free. Moments I’d give anything to have again.

My mind has been screaming out for an outlet these past few weeks. Desperation for solace, seeking out a reprieve that will only be achieved by forcing myself out of this shell I have created to protect myself from everything that’s become a living nightmare. What once brought me joy has been twisted onto itself; becoming my very own hell.

I cannot allow this to continue. I must pull myself out of this cramped space; a tomb of flesh and bone and endless fears of the things that have and may come to pass. I can’t live like this anymore. I’m a prisoner within myself and I’m drowning.

Day by day I fight back what haunts me. Horrible memories slamming my head with flashbacks. As crisp and as shocking as if they were just yesterday. Sleep, you’d think, would give me some semblance of peace. Sadly I’ve found more echoes of internal pain thrown before me, forcing me to actively act out in these movie like dreams of the ‘what ifs’ only to awaken hiccupping the sobs from spilling forth into full blown hysterics.

I want to be myself again. I’m itching to emerge back into the ebb and flow of things; submerge myself back into the rhythm of life.

I miss she who was me, the person I used to be. Sadly, she’s only an echo behind these weary eyes. As though my hard drive has been damaged; a fragmented version of my core system. Slowly I find the circuits realigning, feeling the pieces reforming into someone I’m starting to recognize when I glance at my reflection.

As autumn finally draws near, I’m beginning to feel more like me inside this aging skin. Perhaps one day soon, the me I always wanted to be, will look back at me through that mirror. A glimpse of a better tomorrow.

Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

-Adieu