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thoughts randlomly dropped


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It’s all just an experiment, isn’t it?

All my life is circular, I think.  I look at situations and think ‘I’ve been here before, almost’.  My massage instructor suggested that time is circular as well as linear- sort of a spiral stretched out on a line.  That makes absolute sense to me.  Like I have to check the lessons I’ve learned, then go back and check what else can be gleaned from the situation (or a similar one).  Maybe check back once or twice over the course of 10 or so years, in case I’ve missed anything.  I was looking at old pictures a bit today.  They’re from when my brother was 4 or 5 and I had just got a camera so I was taking pictures of everything (remember that?  The magick of point and shoot and capture that fuzzy moment forever?)  He was playing in our little pool on the concrete driveway, grinning.  In others he’s looking furious- these are group shots of all of us at Graceland, my graduation, other family group shots.  Always standing apart, or glowering, or both.  My little brother.

 

He’s in jail at this moment.  Clean and sober, not by choice but by circumstance.  He writes to me:  ‘Sissy, I can think so clearly now without the drugs in my body.’  ‘Sis, I can’t believe I got so bad.  I’m scared to get out.  How will I live?’

 

My brother is a heroin addict.  So is my sister.

 

I tell people this regularly.  Not to gain sympathy or notoriety or anything else, but because this needs discussion.  It needs to be heard and spoken and acknowledged.  People need to understand that even if you have all your shit together it doesn’t mean you can’t be affected by heroin.  Or cocaine (that was my birth mother).  Or prescription drugs (my aunt).  Or alcoholism (the list is too long).  The thing is, I’m the only sibling who learned anything from having an addict raise us.  I’m apparently the only one who got lucky enough to break the traditions.  And it was luck, make no mistake.  I was well on my way to pickling myself while I went tripping every weekend when one night I just…. didn’t want it.

 

Luck.  Or maybe the Universe tapping my soul?  Maybe it was my soul’s plan to be the sober support person this time around?  I’d like to offer you all the suggestion that being the clean, clear-sighted one is plenty frustrating.  I get to watch my family go down in flames, offering helpful suggestions the whole time.  I love my family, and I can’t fix them.

 

I’ve come to terms with all this (most days).  What I still struggle with is this:  the birth mother?  That we all share?  Saw it all coming down.  Allowed them to shoot up in her home.  And did nothing.  Nothing.  NOTHING.  I don’t even have words for how this makes me feel.  Fury.  Heartbreak.  Tired.  Disappointed.  Sad.  Is there a single word to convey all that and everything else I have trouble naming?  I haven’t spoken with her in something like 7 years, since she told me to get out of her life (I was ever the obedient one).  Funny though, we only live 3 blocks apart.  She could have sent a message by carrier pigeon or neighbour or in the everloving POST for chrissakes letting me know what was going on.  How does a mother just sit back and watch her youngest children destroy themselves and their lives?

 

Nevermind.  It’s a rhetorical question.  I know the answer (in this case).  It’s because she has her own demons.  Because she’s lost too.  And I can’t help her either.  So I stay away.  Protect my tiny family.  Try to model healthy behaviour for Monkey (who will be driving soon).  Try to teach him to be strong and safe and sensible before he heads out into the world on his own.  Try to offer good advice to my brother in our weekly letters.  I tell him I love him in each one.  I try to remind him that he is more than his addiction and mistakes.  That he can plan to do better and follow through.  That he can be a better father to his kids.  That he has to take care of himself.

 

All these things I’ve told myself in the past, at other moments.  All this ground that I’ve almost already covered.

 

Life is a spiral, stretching forward and back.  Allowing us to touch multiple moments in time with one hand.  Sometimes it’s just so damn hard.

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“Heard you comin’ up the gravel road…

…I could tell it was you by the weight of the load.*”

 

Wow, I reckon it’s been a bit since I wrote here last…. Everything’s all fancy and redone.  Alrighty then. 

 

Things have been… strenuous lately.  Not in the lifting heavy things and shifting them around the place way, but more in the sloggingthroughwhatever-that-is-ohitdoesn’tsmellverypleasantdoesit? kind of way.  Let’s be honest.  February sucked so hard it’s inside out.  Not just for me either- that would be comparatively easy.  It’s watching everyone else slog that poses more trouble for me.  For instance:

~A family member revealed that he’s a long time heroin user and wants to stop.  (As I type this, this song started playing- the universe DOES, in fact, have a crafty sense of humour.  Or something.)

~Several friends having money issues in such a way as to jeapordise current operations.

~Another friend’s husband shipped out for Afghanistan

~Another friend’s mother has ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease– which is fucking awful.  “painless, non-contagious and cruel — the motor function of the central nervous system is destroyed but the mind remains fully aware to the end.”  To be filed under “I’d rather drink Hemlock- same effect, more glamour.”  Fuckall.)

~misc other similar issues happening to EVERYONE AT ONCE

And to ice the cake::

~Bear had to go to hospital for appendicitis (which we didn’t know he was having because the pain went away- which apparently means IT RUPTURED, but because his body is FUCKING AMAZING he did NOT get peritonitis because there was an abscess with all the toxins neatly collected within.)

 

Deep breath. 

 

So, yeah.  Fuck February.  Like, all the way. 

 

March is better so far, and I fully intend for things to continue in a better direction.  Dealing with my addicted family member- henceforth referred to as Flash- has been trying at times.  I have to keep reminding myself I can’t fix him.  I can’t solve his (multitude of self inflicted) problems.  This is his fire to walk through.  All I can do is remind him he can do it.  I gave him the old saying ‘I can eat an elephant if I take small bites’.  I remind him to take one thing at a time.  I remind him I love him, and that he can do this.  He has such a long, potholed road before him. 

 

Classes have been good.  They are a touchstone for me- my classmates have such a positive, kind, supportive attitude overall.  How lucky I am to be learning healing arts with such a marvellous group.  The material is getting more difficult, which means I have to take my study time more seriously.  Which is a good thing.  I’m still trying to figure out what my post licensing plan is.  I’m loving the healer-bodyworker concept, but I live in the land of conservative which makes marketing a rubic’s cube to figure out.  Good thing I have a marketing madman to ask about these things. 

I gave the first massage I’m not pleased with over the weekend, though.  A learning experience, and the client didn’t seem to know the difference, but I did and it’s definitely something for me to process and improve on.  I have a pretty good idea of where and what my problem was- just need to be sure I don’t allow it to happen again.  I wasn’t focused, and so I went through the motions but there was no energy flow of note.  Not that I have to be in charge of every little thing, but my goal is to facilitate movement and improved flow of energy.  I’m a conduit.  If I’m distracted, I’m disconnected and therefore Not a conduit, but rather, a cut wire.  That is not what I’m going for.  A lesson, and one I don’t plan to repeat. 

 

Bear’s tattoo enterprise is coming along.  Had him work on me for the first time last night.  He was nervous as hell, but still did well.  Just a small one, an easy one.  Something to ease him into working on me.  I have more planned and I look forward to him gaining the skills to complete my plans (mwahahahaha).  He’s recovering well from surgery, although he lost almost 20 pounds over the week he wasn’t feeling well- mostly muscle mass- which has caused him a bit of difficulty.  He literally has to get his strength back.  Having him in hospital was so very scary.  I coped really well when the shit was in the fan.  A couple weeks after is when I had my meltdown.  There’s nothing like seeing the person you love most in the universe lying helpless in a hospital bed to reality check you on what you would do if you had to do it alone.  Not something I ever want to experience again.  Told Bear he better stay healthy from here on out, and that I would do the same. 

 

Sometimes it’s a wonder to me that we are here at all, let alone that we find others to love and be happy with.  How lucky we are to have such magick in our lives.  The joy and fear and sorrow and everything of love and being connected to those we love.  Astounding, really, that some can get by for so long without it.  It’s worth it to remember that everyone is fighting valiantly some battle or other, and be kinder for that remembrance.  Even on days when the weight of air on your skin tries your patience.  

Be good to you.  Be good to one another. 

Cheers. 

 

 

*Dust and Bones by Cary Ann Hearst


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Cleaning! The house!

First off, let me say- THE LEG IS MUCH BETTER!!!!!  WOOOOOO!!  It’s not perfect and I’m still nervous about stairs, but I mopped and vacuumed my floors today (which turned out to be something like looking at new flooring when it was all said and done… eeew).  I still have stretching and strengthening to do, and I’m not sure how soon I’ll be dancing again, but it’s so so much better.  Yay for me.*  I’m trying to get back to that good mental place I was in when I was doing all that exercise and filled with endorphins, but it’s a bit tougher when you can’t really get into the exercise bit without fear of re-injury.  Alas, I suppose it’s too soon.  I miss those endorphins fiercely though.  The Boss is quite pleased I’m able to take tables at the Chinese again (as am I, although I suspect our reasons are not entirely the same).  She’s exhausted from the constant work- she practically lives there anyway, and taking up my slack doubled her work load.  I missed the money.  So we’re both pretty overjoyed that I’m mobile again, even if I am a bit slower at the moment.

 

*and everyone near me who’s had to listen to my bitching.

 

We got Monkey’s homeschool nonsense all sorted for this season.  I’d left it ’til late and got all freaked out about it (not that that’s anything new), but we found a new assessor who is FUCKING FANTASTIC.  All these years I’ve just had a lady who came, looked at the work, and signed the sheet without offering any real insight or opinion.  This guy though, he’s right with it.  Suggestions where we asked for them, reassurance where we needed it, and a willingness to listen to us ramble about our year.  So glad we found him.  It’s always so nice to have all that in order. 

I’ve been mentally rearranging my house recently, think I may just be biding my time ’til I can actually do it.  I warned Bear that I’m considering getting rid of one of the desks in the office and putting my massage table in there.  Guess which desk would have to move?  Heh.  He said we could put his in the garage- but I’m pretty sure that won’t happen.  I just have to figure out how best to shift all the tiles around to make the right shape (yeah, remember those puzzles?  My place is small like that.)  We’ll see how it turns out, but I’d love to clear a bunch of shit out and just start fresh.  Suppose I’d better get on that while I’ve the place to meself. 

Cheers!


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Recent lessons

It’s been some time since I even gave a thought to blogging.  Or writing of any kind.  Needless to say, my brain is a jumble of nonsense and the important and everything in between.  I know writing is good for me, helps to sort out all the dross and cobwebs…. I just… forget sometimes that I have to actually DO it.  Or get preoccupied with whatever is happening in the moment.  I have blog envy for those folks who do write consistently.  Even if it’s only every 3 months, they’re like Old Faithful.  Heh. 

 

So.  Life. 

 

I’m starting massage school in the Fall.  It’ll be 20 months of intense learning (hands on and book) and then I’ll be certified in all sorts of massage types.  I’m looking forward to it and keeping fingers crossed that I can retain all that info.  Saw examples of my course books and they look pretty hardcore.  Bear and boy are fully behind me and aware that I’ll only be half here a lot of the time for that 20 months.  They’re making a plan.  I love that they’re making a plan.  I am also in the beginning stages of making a plan, but got slightly derailed by a…..

Pulled Calf Muscle!!!!!

 

Can we all say ‘No Fun At All’? 

 

See, part of the plan (that got slightly derailed) was ‘be more fit’ and it involved strengthening my cardio system (because I was panting after going up 10 steps, or something).  So my friend Irish says ‘you should try the Insanity workout, it’s fucking ridiculously tough, but I’m seeing great results.  And I says to meself, I can do tough- I’m not afraid to modify the workout to fit my needs.  I’ve got this.  And I did. 

For 4 days. 

I modified the workout.  It was still, in fact, Fucking Ridiculously Tough- even modified (that was the point after all).  I forgot to also modify the recovery days.  So when my calves were SORE (like stairs make you cringe because you not only look like a goober but it hurts going down them) for 2 days I thought ‘I’ll take a day off Insanity and just walk today and get back to it tomorrow’. 

 

Did you catch the foolishness in that last sentence??  I did.  The next day.  During warm up.  Mummy kicks (which I found to be one of the easier exercises, ironically).  And as I’m doing mummy kicks I abruptly hear ‘POP’ from my right calf.  fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

 

This happened on Tuesday morning.  I was supposed to perform at my Halau’s luau on the second Saturday following.  Can we all say ‘Disappointed as FUCK’?  Oh, by the way?  I couldn’t drive either, the first week and a half.  So I had to seek out a ride to everything.  Which made me feel like a total pain in the ass.  I have a whole new appreciation for those who are injured/handicapped and have to ask others for help, and also for people who have to hobble along.  Be nice to them, they are probably Very Annoyed by their lack of speed and are highly aware that everyone around them can move at the speed of light and has to wait on their pokey hobbling ass.  At least, I have been. 

Anyway. 

Luau came off well, and in the end I was terribly disappointed I couldn’t dance (so no surprises there)- but I did chant and drum, and that was FAB.  And I’m healing.  It’s been 3ish weeks and I can begin to seriously consider that I might walk normally soon.  Ish.  I can stretch it, gently.  I can drive (which is a MAJOR WIN).  I feel less helpless.  That’s a pretty major win too.  I don’t do helpless, it makes me cranky and mean.  This is good to know for future reference and as a flaw I need to work on, but finding out has sucked for all involved.  I’m pretty sure Monkey wanted to stuff me in a closet and leave me to my own devices more than once, since he’s been the one around me most during this.  Bear is working 2d shift now, so he’s out of it during the day.  I’m getting better, though.  And being nicer (my inner editor has her work cut out for her). 

 

I’m resuscitating the plan and altering it and giving myself recovery time (even though I’m antsy to be done recovering).  Just means I have to start in a different place and maybe at a slower pace than the original plan called for. 


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Coming along

Well now.  I’ve been working steadily on a few bits and pieces and am beginning to see a little progress.  It’s… surprising, daunting, exciting.  One of my Hula sisters is a massage therapist, and she just got a nifty new table.  I bought her old one for a fantastic price and it will serve nicely for my healing work.  I’ve lined up an info gathering trip to a local massage school in a couple of weeks- we’ll see how that turns out.  Things are a bit up in the air with Bear’s job at the mo, and I’m not sure taking on a largish debt is something we (I) should be doing right now.  Have to see what’s down the line.  Classes don’t start til Fall though, so I’ve a bit of time before I have to make a decision.*  I’ll be calling about space for my healing work today (since I have a table to put folks on now). 

All this just scares the shit out of me. 

I know it’s an irrational thing, this fear.  I know the worst/best that could happen is I have to try again.  It’s been a while since I’ve put myself out there like this, though.  I’m out of practice.  I know this is doable, because I’ve seen that others have done it.  What’s that bit from Dune?


‘I must not fear

Fear is the mind-killer

Fear is the little death that brings oblivion. 

I will allow the fear to pass over me and through me

and when it is gone,

Only I will remain.’

 

Or something like that….  Have a groovy day, y’all.  May all your fears be groundless. 

 

 

*I have one of those panic-adrenaline rushes right now, just writing about it.  OMG.


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There is a difference between walking a path…

and sitting on one.  I have been sitting so long there are cobble marks on my ass. 

In case you didn’t know, I’m an herbalist and healer.  I know.  You totally couldn’t tell.  What the hell kind of healer swears like I do and has almost no tolerance for the asshattery of other people?    Aren’t we all supposed to be rose coloured glasses, rainbows, and unicorns? 

 

I’m not sure, frankly.  I’m trying to reconcile who I am with who I’m “supposed” to be.  How do I do that?  I’ve considered giving up foul language.  Really.  I’m not going to, but I considered it.  Language doesn’t effect my ability to see and understand and work with plants to heal.  Saying “fuck” when I accidentally run a red light (totally my own fault) doesn’t preclude my intuitive senses from picking up whatever needs noticing.  Not paying attention to said intuition will do that all on it’s own.  But. 

 

There’s this picture people (m’self included) have of “healers”.  Patient.  Empathetic.  Sympathetic.  Ethereal.  Loves everyone.  Airy-fairy.  All-knowing.  I know they can’t be all that all the time.  Logically.  I may have any of the given qualities at a given moment, I may even have most at a given moment.  Seldom would I have all of them at once, and definitely not all the time.  Some I may never have.  Does this mean I’m not tuned in to the Universe?  Only when I’m not listening.  And I haven’t been.  I’ve been sitting because I’m not sure what to do with my skills.  Also, new stuff is scary.  Putting myself out there is scary.  I know it’s chickenshit, but I still have the whole “what if they don’t like me” mentality on this stuff.  (Of course the chorus in my brain immediately shouts “then FUCK THEM” when I ask that question, but still….)  So I’m trying to sort it all out. 

 

I do intuitive healing, and I’ve seen good results.  I’ve also seen the folks who get good results initially fuck up all that nice energy work in the span of a week.  After I told them they’d need to do a few things to maintain it.  (Tough things like: drink this tea, meditate for 5 minutes each day, get a bit more rest.)  It’s hard not to slap someone when they come to you in a situation like this and ask why it isn’t working anymore.  Very hard.   It’s difficult to remember sometimes that we’re all doing our best, when really some folks are just looking for someone else to blame for their laziness.  Just admit you don’t feel like doing it and we’re fine.  I want to help people, but it pisses me off when they expect me to do ALL the work.  I am not a magic pill.  Herbs are not a magic pill.  Good things, things that will heal the issue and not just cover it or make the symptoms go away, take time and effort.  Magic pills are overrated. 

I am well aware that I’m far from perfect, and that I have a lot of growing to do.  I know that sitting on the path and not paying attention are my current large faults.  These are things I have to work on.  I may never be the stereotypical “healer”, and I have to remember it is a stereotype, but I am a healer.  I guess the first thing I need to work on healing is my fear.  Writing this is a step on that path.