Ok, ok already... I’m back, and I’m blogging. Just remember, you asked for it*. ;)

When I got Andi’s message(s) sweetly requesting that I return to the world of blog, I realized that it has been one full month since I last blogged - and since I abandoned the “safety net” of my job. It has become clear that ‘safety net’ is a relative term. I suppose “safe” itself is a relative term. My physical health has improved drastically in the last month. I’ve had two bad times: I caught the cooties - a bad summer cold - that all of the Feral Chihuahuas (except Jay and Chris. Hmph.) Got during Stoneleaf - this was, rather UN-ironically at the beginning of the month; and yesterday and the day before when I suffered from the first migraine I’ve had in ages. I was dressing the set for a movie that X is helping with, and I spent the Tuesday morning and afternoon in department store hell searching for ugly tchotchkes, Chia pets, Cheez Balls (NOT puffs.) and other oddities, then the rest of the afternoon and into the evening making this empty - and recently painted & newly carpeted dorm-room look lived in. My throat started getting really sore in Target - the 5th of 6 stores that I went into. I noticed my head begin to ache with that all-too-familiar throb while I was buying (*ahem*) used books at the Goodwill (“A-ha!”), so spending several more hours in that small, claustrophobic, chemically saturated room did me in. I was down for the rest of the evening and the whole next day** The only good thing about it I suppose (other than the forced slow-down, which I admit, I need sometimes - oh, and the clean beds and good movies) was the realization that I used to feel like that, to some degree, every day. (Not to mention the realization that there are some things that my "safety net" has taken away from me completely, and refused to compensate me for the loss in any way... !#$% the man!) Like having a little cold, complete with a low fever, sore throat, sniffling, sneezing, aching - every bloody day. For the last month, I’ve felt my strength coming back, little by little. I’ve been able to do things and carry things I haven’t had the strength for in months, maybe even years. Then this morning, I woke up, found myself migraine free and feeling pretty good, so I decided to do a little yardwork while it was cool. Two weeks ago, X and I spent an hour and a half - right after I came home from my route, which can be pretty exhausting - doing some SERIOUS clearing around the fig trees. I’m talking about cutting down small trees with an axe, pulling huge vines, dragging the trees and brush into piles, etc. Afterwards I felt great, like my old self. This morning though, after yesterday’s ache-fest, I barely had the strength to use the clippers on the comparably tiny bittersweet and mimosas by the driveway. Hm. Veddy interesting.
It’s my first instinct to say that having time to look at my life more closely is a good AND a bad thing, but then my logical core brain (yes, there is one) says “What a !#$% crock!”
This last month has not been without stress or even a few tears, but compared to the last two years, I have been like another person - someone that I was starting to forget. During the last few months, it was not unusual for me to cry every single day, sometimes several times a day, but now I am finding that it is not just my physical strength that is returning. The lightness of being able to choose my responsibilities, of being able to say “No.” to things that I find unreasonable and “Yes.” to things that I find worthy is anything but unbearable. I’ve questioned myself and my direction some, of course, but not too much - it’s only been a month. I’ve thought a lot about things that I tried to keep myself from thinking of, because those things combined with the misery that I was experiencing on the job was just too much. When I realized today that a whole month had passed, of course my OCD/PTSD/DID/WTF, leonine, perfectionist brain immediately threw out the question: So, what have you done in this last month? Well, here’s the short list:
I’ve sold 185$ worth of jewelry, not counting the pieces I did for trade;
I’ve made several other new, beautiful pieces;
I’ve made enough $ to pay my bills AND save more than I ever have over a single month in the last five years AND had enough to splurge on a Polaroid (I’ve always wanted one) as well as a new, girlie summer wardrobe. Skorts and cute sleeveless tops. (Yay, $General!);
I did my second commissioned poster for the bakery;
I helped a girlfriend move;
I have lost a little weight, gotten a little tan, and “summered” my hair;
I have been swimming more in the last month than I have in the entire time I’ve lived here;
I’ve taken some walks;
I’ve poked around in a cool creek and caught bright red and yellow fish in my bandana to show
children;
I did one of my infrequent and infamous sculptures (Happy 4-0, Crowgirl! The crows WILL
come home!);
I’ve spent some excellent educational and fun (for me and them) time with three wonderful little girls;
I’ve successfully learned the whole bread route - which I enjoy even more than I thought I
would;
I was in a comedy show (in a major theatre festival) that made almost a THOUSAND dollars;
I helped a friend fix her computer;
I’ve spent more time with some of my girlfriends than I have in a very long time, reconnected with an old girlfriend from high school days, and made a new friend who is has some un-
believably strange and strong connections to my past***;
I’ve gotten closer to Chris(X) and learned to appreciate him more;
I’ve felt more free.

Not bad for a short list, I think.
Most of this stuff is “outside” stuff - body, material things, etc. But all of it, indeed, every thing in my life is connected to internal things. Feeling good enough about my body to wear skorts and sleeveless tops, for one. The time I spend with the kids, watching the meticulous clockwork of their hearts and their family lives has awakened a lot of things in me, a lot of memories and questions. Two of these girls come from a family that could not be more stable, solid, successful; and one of them is the child of a mother my age, from exactly the same area that I am from (she grew up in Gulfport); from a family very similar to mine it seems, who knows MANY of my friends from my college years, who was with Robbie two nights before she died, and who is going through a separation right now. There are times when I feel like I am living an experiment, and this is definitely one of them. I have always been both the scientist and the white mouse, but never before has it been so obvious to me. Watching and weighing my own reactions to their honest feelings and my duty to them is almost surreal, very much like I am being tested. Thank goodness I’ve always enjoyed tests. For those of you with children, or for those who have cared for them, you know the extreme hyper vigilance that comes (that SHOULD come) with that responsibility.. For those of you who know me, you know the very extreme hyper vigilance that lives in me, so you can imagine the weight of every word I say to them... I am learning more about myself than I could ever teach them I think. And I am lucky that I have these brilliant, loving, mature, concerned, challenging little ladies to share this with. I needed this time. I thought I was taking on a summer job, but I am really being paid for the only kind of therapy that might help me right now. I was taking a shower in the girls’ bathroom last week, and was nearly floored (at least I was already in the shower) by the waves of sadness and anger that came from looking at all their bath and hygiene stuff. And then, I get out of the shower, and there’s my dear beloved girlfriend - who also happens to be a trained professional counselor (who specializes in at-risk kids, no less) - waiting with open ears and an open heart to hear me talk about and process this pain. Same the week before when we had the 5 year-old brother of the other little girl with us for a day, and I realized that I could read the story of his family’s sadness in his little body and face, even though he hardly talked at all, and that it hurt me badly to see it and be unable to do anything about it (oh, horrible, horrible echoes of a horrible, horrible past...). Buffy was there to hear what I had to say, and it was something that I hadn’t even realized until I talked to her about it. Blessed be.

My mind has been working overtime, thinking about my family. Not so much about the past lately. It seems that the last outburst of fury and agony cleared out a few of the cobwebs.
There is anger, but thank god, my parents seem more and more like the ghosts they should be every day. I am haunted by their reflections, by the parts of them that are so strong in me, but I am stronger than that, than them, and I know it. I can’t change the past, I can’t make it go away, I can’t make my mother say that she is sorry, and even if she did, I would still be as horribly broken and scarred as I have always been. But instead of believing that I can fix me, I am just having to come to terms with the fact that I am the product of these nightmares, and that I can walk away from anyone who can’t see me, and treat me accordingly. Chris is finally beginning to see how the specifics of my past effects my present and future - I see him look at me when certain things are said, or when people behave a certain way, or whatever triggers the memories, and I know that my past is real to him. We saw a very poignant movie last night, and there were times when things were said that rang that old bell in my heart. One was a woman talking about her own heartbreak. She said: “You can’t break something that’s already broken.” Without thinking, I replied, out loud, but to myself: “Yes, but you can break it into smaller and smaller pieces...” He touched my hand, and I knew that he was remembering - honoring my pain. It’s unbelievable how comforting and strengthening that is. It’s as if that’s what it takes to make me real.
I am sure that it will all come full circle, but for now, it is the present that is haunting me more than the past. My relationship with my aunts and cousins, and of course with my siblings. I think of Mandy every day, but I can’t seem to find a way to breach this gap. I can’t find any way to say what I want to say to her, and in the meanwhile, all she hears is more silence... The guilt that I feel about not being closer to my family is there every day, but the anger about the entanglements and awfulness that keep me distant from them at the same time doesn’t go away. I’ve learned that it is very dangerous to try to discuss it, but I don’t know how else to release myself from the self-loathing that I feel for not finding a way to be closer to them. I think they all know that it hurts me to be involved, and that I feel that I hurt them by being involved, but I believe that, deep down, we all want each other as a family - well, most of us. There are so many “camps” and degrees of hurt that every single one of us must feel torn between the others. Each of us had such a different experience, each of us has old hurts that cause loyalties to be divided and being angry at the irresponsible, selfish, mentally, morally, and emotionally despondent bunch of *$$#0!*$ who put us all in these positions in the first place is pointless. Most of them are dead, and then ones who aren’t are so deep in denial or their own morass of misery that they might as well be. This one definitely has no easy answer. It seems that the best we can do is to make ourselves a life that is as happy as possible - not to mention as free from the mistakes of our forebears as possible, and then be prepared to do what we can if someone breaks camp and comes to us for ANYthing - at least, anything that we are capable of giving.

So, here’s where my head is. I am fumbling about in the dark a bit, I admit it. I have no grand plan, I have no real idea what will happen next, but that’s ok. I am not afraid. There is a world of options spread out beneath my capable hands, and I am free to choose. Despite the lifelong struggle, despite the pain that resounds from the world outside, I am back to what I know best - me. That’s definitely something that I can work with.

For those of you who seem disconnected right now, I’m sorry. The circuits are never closed (even, sometimes, when I wish they were...). Being without a pc is tougher than I thought it would be. Soon, hopefully, that will change. Cross your fingers. If you want me, if you need me, though, if you are ready to talk, if you need to borrow 20$, if you want the truth from me, or even just b.s. small talk, I hope you can see that it’s hard for me, but if you reach out, I’ll grab your hand. I am hard to get ahold of - especially now that every day is different - but everyone (even Kenny Ray, ferchrissakes! Hey, KR - good to hear from you again) knows how to find me. E me, and I will send you my cell#. It’s pretty much always with me. It may take a while to get me, but I am not as good at hiding as I wish I was, and sometimes, I really need for people to point out to me that there’s no reason to hide. I think as soon as DragonCon is over, I am going to look into bus, train and air tickets to Mississippi. I think that’s the only feasible and decent way to try to open up the circuits with Mandy and Jeff a little, and maybe even recharge with my Cuz’s too. Seamus, thank you for the cryptic but very lovely and Seamus-like beam of light. Please, please let me know how you and yours are. (Hannah, your little beam of light was lovely, too. I was thinking of you this morning.) That goes for all of you. I have conversations with all of you all the time, my head and heart resound with memories and ideas of you. Thank you for being there even when I’m not.

Much love - more than you know, unfortunately,
-s


*Thanks for “hounding me”, Duckmama. Well, more like “kittening” me, really. Mrowr. =^;;^=
‘Just caught up on your blogs too. ‘Sounds like you aren’t the only one who might need to pick up the phone.
**Well, I did get all our pillows and mattress aired, and bed-linens, towels & pup/cat-bed cleaned. I can’t just do NOTHING... *augh*
***more on this later...