Grief and Legacies

I was 19 years old and puffy faced from crying, my arm had been numb for about an hour but in order to have feeling in it once more meant I would have to let go of my mother's hand, and I couldn't do that, not yet.

She was asleep.

No... that's the lie I told myself.

She was in a coma and probably wouldn't have realized if I slid my hand from hers and shook it until the pins and needles passed, but I would know. I would know that those precious seconds had ticked by where I wasn't comforting her... another lie, comforting myself... and I couldn't bear the thought of wasting a single moment, not when I had wasted so very many with typical teen angst and misdirected anger.

I remember thinking how small she looked on her bed. She was only 5'2 but there was always this grandness about her, this overwhelming presence of love, compassion, and kindness, she always seemed so much bigger. She had been my world, but now she looked like a fragile doll.

I don't recall who was in the room, likely my grandparents, uncle, aunt, random family, all holding a silent vigil as I sat clinging to my mother and whatever time we had left together.

This was so unfair.

It was unfair that she had battled brain tumors on and off her whole life.

It was unfair this last one struck when I was 14 and altered my life, seemingly overnight.

It was unfair this had happened to one of the kindest most genuinely good people.

It was unfair that she couldn't be the same woman she had been for me my first 14 years.

It was unfair she could barely walk, couldn't work, couldn't remember, couldn't live the life her peers were living, the life she had been living.

It was unfair that she fought so hard for so long.

It was unfair she was still fighting.

I asked everyone to leave, I needed a moment with my mother.

"I am so sorry. I am so so sorry. You deserved a better daughter. I was so angry, am still so angry, but it's hard to be angry at a disease and so I was angry with you. Please forgive me. I love you, will always love you, will always remember who you taught me to be. You did your job, I'll be okay, I promise, you can stop fighting, I'll be okay."

I wanted to climb in bed with her, I wanted her to wake up and stroke my hair and tell me it would all be okay as she had done my whole life. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare, be 14 and realize it was all a Christmas Carol style lesson in appreciating what I had. I wanted miracles to happen, wishes to come true, prayers to be answered.

I wanted my momma.

(I still do.)

I remember only bits and pieces of that week.

I remember begging the man at the book store to help me find "Love You Forever"  because it had to go in the lilac purple coffin my mother now laid in. I read it over and over and cried.

I remember the food, as southerns are wont to do everyone in the county seemed to filter through the doors, bringing casseroles and condolences.

I remember thinking, "This is it. I'm an orphan now. Yes, all of you stare at the poor orphan, judge her for being a shitty daughter and now unable to make amends."

I remember being angry that it was sunny and bright the day of her funeral. I was shattered and broken and had cried until I could cry no more, the sky should weep for her too.

I remember crying all night, nearly every night, for months on end.

I remember feeling guilty the first night I didn't.

Grief is a funny thing. At first it pins you down and tightens around your chest until you can't breath, until it feels as if it has squeezed your heart right out of your chest. You then have to walk around with this gaping hole, this wound that refuses to heal, this giant missing piece of yourself, and still live your day to day mundane life as if you aren't broken and empty. Eventually you realize you went one whole day without thinking about it, and you are then crushed by guilt. You're given platitudes and cliches by well meaning people but you begin to discover time does NOT in fact heal all wounds, you just learn to work around them.

You do better though, weeks may pass without tears, but grief will not be tossed aside so easily. When you are in the absolute best mood with all of the greatest things happening grief will rear its ugly head and smack you down. When you are at your lowest low, heart sick and barely functioning grief will come along and rub salt into every wound. On a random Tuesday at Chipotle grief will show up and you'll find yourself sitting alone, ugly crying into your sofritas burrito bowl for seemingly no reason.

There is no "getting over" grief. There is no "being done" mourning. There is no "moving past" the pain. You can learn the tools to grieve in a healthy way, but you will ALWAYS miss that person.

My mother will never attend my wedding, should I ever get married.

I will never have that fun adult relationship so many of my friends now have with their mothers.

My mother will never again wake me at midnight  just to be the first one to sing me Happy Birthday.

Every Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Fourth of July, will be without her.

My daughter will never meet her grandmother, who I think would have been the most amazing Mimi.

I do what I can to keep her memory alive. As Witchling grows I will tell her stories about the Mimi she never knew, I will do everything in my power to make her as real for Witchling as I can.

I guess maybe that's the point of my post tonight. I'm honestly not sure, I didn't start out with a real direction. I don't talk much about my mother publicly, and never really about her death, but with Mother's Day coming up I'm a little out of wack.

I digress.

I have promised to tell Witchling all of the stories of my mother that I have, and have asked others to do the same. I believe that is our true legacy, the stories others tell about us.

I think the Doctor said it best, “We’re all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?”

(Per usual as of late this rambling emotional mess was posted from my phone, please forgive any typos, random autocorrects, and other various mistakes.)

All the squishy bits...

Is there anything more terrifying than sharing the vulnerable pieces of yourself with someone new?

... I'm sure there are but that's not the point.

It seems crazy that we hand people these treasure maps to ourselves, but the x doesn't mark a chest of gold and instead leads to all of the most fragile parts of our psyche.

We trust these new people with the very parts of ourselves that were once betrayed, fingers crossed that this time it will be different, that this person won't add their own brand of heartache and baggage.

I'm not even talking about romantic relationships, or not totally. We do this with coworkers, new friends, even family members we begin getting closer to. Over and over again we open up, often just a little at a time, and have to hope for the best.

I hate this, and I am honestly really really bad at it. I find it so hard to really trust anyone with anything other than the superficial dribble of everyday life.

Sure, I open up here... under a pen name... with very few links to my real, actual life and people I really, actually know.

Recently I had too much wine, and opened up to a new friend waaaay more than stone cold sober Libby would even day dream of doing. With a laser pointer, pretty highlighters, graphs, flashing neon signs, and one of those airport guys with the cones I showed this person so new in my life a few of the soft squishy bits I prefer to keep hidden.

It didn't seem like much, they made the right sympathetic and supportive comments and will likely never think twice about it, but it is terrifying to me, and will cause my heart to randomly and unexpectedly race on and off for weeks to come.

Not only did I give them ammo, I gave them big, shiny targets.

That's part of life though, of truly living, you have to let people in from time to time. You have to trust your own judgement and their goodness.

(Forgive the typos and errors, this was another late night ramble made on my trusty phone.)

Ramblings in the dark...

It's been a while since I've posted.

Hell, it's been a while since I've written anything.

I've tried to find a way to neatly sum up all that has happened in my life over the last year but, for the first time in my life, words have utterly and completely failed me.

Maybe one day I'll get there, maybe one day I'll wake up knowing exactly how to weave the tale of my journey into becoming a single parent.

Maybe one day I'll suddenly find the words to explain the new scars on my heart and soul.

Today is not that day.

Words are these amazing, living, evolving things that we use in so many unique and fantastic ways. Used at their best they tell beautiful stories, encourage others, declare new love.

At their worst?

Words used as a weapon cut far deeper than any blade, poison the mind, destroy the soul, dismantle trust, crush hope.

Used at their worst words can create wounds you fear will never heal.

I am not those wounds.

I am more than the words used against me by others.

I am more than the words I use against myself.

I am just as much of a product of words of encouragement and strength as I am the words meant to harm.

No.

I am MORE a product of the words of words of encouragement and strength than I am the words meant to harm.

They still hurt, I still find myself looking down expecting to see blood because surely anything that is this soul rending should manifest physically. How can so much pain exist without proof of existence?

Nights like tonight, when it's quiet and still and I'm still reeling from emotional sabotage from "well intended" family members (a story for another time), I find it hard to remind myself I am more than these scars.

I've come so far though. Piece by piece I've begun to let go of the mix-matched baggage of my past. With each beat up bag discarded I find myself happier, healthier, stronger, lighter.

Despite tonight's bout of despondency I am happier than I can remember being in quite some time. Things are better now than they have been in quite some time. My future is brighter than it had been for quite some time. 

That's right my loves, I am still ever the optimist and even a set back such as this will never change that. I still believe life works out as it should and that each heartache and misstep are nothing more than building blocks in the foundation of who we are meant to be.

(Forgive the rambling, it's been a weird day. Forgive the typos and errors, I am snuggled in bed using my phone and should be sleeping.)

Life Lessons

community [kuh-myoo-ni-tee]
noun, pl. -ties.
1. a social group of any size whose members reside in a specific locality, share government, and often have a common cultural and historical heritage.
2. a locality inhabited by such a group.
3. a social, religious, occupational, or other group sharing common characteristics or interests and perceived or perceiving itself as distinct in some respect from the larger society within which it exists (usually preceded by the): the business community; the community of scholars.
4. a group of associated nations sharing common interests or a common heritage: the community of Western Europe.
5. Eccles. a group of men or women leading a common life according to a rule.
6. Ecol. an assemblage of interacting populations occupying a given area.
7. joint possession, enjoyment, liability, etc.: community of property.
8. similar character; agreement; identity: community of interests.
9. the community,the public; society: the needs of the community.

So now that we've gotten the denotation out of the way let's think about the connotation, how this word makes us feel and what we think of when we hear it.



You thought I was dusting off my soap box didn't you?

Why focus on the negative? The thing about making mistakes is learning from them.

Lessons I've learned along my path:

1. If it doesn't fit, don't force it, this does a huge disservice to everyone involved. Which leads to...

2. Things take time. The Grand Canyon was not formed overnight, the giant redwood's did not reach their awe inspiring size in a matter of weeks, and Rome wasn't built in a day. As "progress" makes so many things in our lives ready at a moment's notice we forget that the reason there are so many cliches about patience is because the best things in life are worth waiting for. My own waiting period taught me:

3. Maturity is important in so many different ways. Spiritual maturity should not be discounted. How can we be sure what we need from community, and what we want to contribute to that community if we don't know what we expect from ourselves? Yes, said group of like minds should help us grow, support us in our learning and help us up from our failures but if don't know to want that how will we know when we've found the right one? I don't think one ever "reaches maturity" though, I have encountered life lessons over and over that are meant to teach me:

4. We are always evolving, always learning. I was reminded just last night that life tends to be a "the more I learn, the more I realize how much I don't know" kind of experience. The beliefs I held 10+ years ago when I started on my path have changed, some I've cultivated, some I've discarded, some I've learned were out right wrong. This isn't a bad thing, in fact I think it's one of the most beautiful aspects of my chosen faith. Growth is encouraged, and no honest, heartfelt belief is condemned. I've said it before, and I'll say it a thousand times more. Anything you believe that makes you strive to be a better person to yourself and others is a Good Thing.

There are more, so very many more things life has taught me, sometimes more than once. If anyone knows of an herb to cure hard-headedness let know because I tend to have that problem. Learning when to let go always seems to trip me up. At least I've finally realized letting go is acceptable in the first place.

Until next time, give yourself a break, I bet even Gerald Gardner learned a few things the hard way.

Spring Cleaning

It's time for a little spring cleaning on the blog! Never fear, we'll be back with your irregularly scheduled content before you know it. I may even have a couple of surprises in store.

A Rant

There has been so much hatred spewed across my news feed lately it breaks my heart. Some of it has been so disgusting I feel ashamed to even know these people, much less be related to them. I've made a few posts, and nearly made this one but I can't. I can't see it go ignored by the people I wish to affect, and everyone knows minds are never changed through a social media argument.

So I'll post it here, because it's something I just had to say.

By hating each other the bad guys win.
By seeing people as their race, nationality, and religion and not as human beings with the same hopes and dreams as the rest of us the bad guys win.
By letting fear divide us instead of uniting us under the determination to make the world a better place the bad guys win.

Racism is not and never will be acceptable, no matter which race you target.
Bigotry is not and never will be acceptable, no matter which difference you target.
Being a dick is not and never will be acceptable, no matter what.

Just stop. Stop and think of how it would feel if someone spat on you because you were ____. Fill in the blank. White, black, male, female, Christian, Jewish, straight, gay, it doesn't matter, that type of behavior is abhorrent and should NEVER be okay. EVER.

I feel like a broken record, I'm sure you're as tired of reading it as I am seeing the stories about women being attacked on public transportation because she is half Iranian and was wearing a scarf because she was cold. I'm sure you're as tired of my rants as I am reading about people fearing for their lives, the safety of their children, wondering is their homes, their places of business, their places of worship will be attacked by people that let hate rule their heart instead of compassion. I bet you're as tired of seeing my name pop up in your news feed as I am seeing story after story after story of people being treated as less than human, of politicians talking about making Muslims carry special identification, of American citizens - people born right here in the US and people that have served their country in the armed forces - being told to go back to their 3rd world shit hole country.

When you stand behind your religion as an excuse to hate people, any person at all, you are no better than Daesh.

Raise them to know that there are no gender barriers or roles...

... and they can do anything they want to do in life.

- James Guerry

The day I decided what Witchling's name would be I set her up a gmail account. Now, I realize that maybe it was a little early, I was barely 20 weeks pregnant, but after losing my mother and everything that she'd touched I have become a little manic about making sure Witchling knows as much about me as is safe to share. 

She doesn't need to know about, well... basically anything from age 18 to 22.

I want her to know how I think, what my opinions are on different things, and some of the things I think are important to know. Plus I know me and a baby book just really wasn't going to happen. With the email I can send her thoughts, her accomplishments and milestones, things I want to make sure she knows if I'm not around. So I started a numbered list of things I wanted to make sure she knew, and that's where we come to the point of today's post.

Yesterday I read an article on a mommy site that was a letter from a mother to her daughter detailing all the important things to remember as the girl grew into a woman. I have read several of these lists, and many of them I copied and send to Witchling in her email. This one though? I disagreed mightily with most of the things this woman felt were important. Her list made her seem shallow and bitchy and I certainly did not send Witchling a copy. 

I (politely I swear) disagreed with the author on the mommy blog's Facebook page and replied to some of my Mommy Mafia's comments on the whole thing. Imagine my surprise when the author, her husband, and her friends flooded the comments section with rude and spiteful comments, including one by the illustrious author herself telling the lot of us to fuck off. 

Classy.

Suddenly the comments were disappearing left and right and we all found ourselves banned. 

Yes dear reader, I have been banned from yet another Facebook page. Apparently I am just not appropriate for public consumption.

So what are some of the things I want my daughter to know?

1. It's always okay to ask for help if you don't know how to do something. It's never okay to make fun of someone who is asking for help when they don't know how to do something. Be patient, and never act like helping someone learn something new, even if it is simple, is a chore or a burden. Always remember that nearly everything you know (including how to poop in the toilet) had to be taught to you by someone. 

2. If you kill people with kindness there is less of a mess to clean up afterwards.You alone are responsible for your thoughts and your actions. How you treat people, doesn't matter if they are good or bad, reflects on YOUR karma, no one else's. 

3. Embrace your past. All of it. Every victory, every defeat, every hurdle, every loss, every joy, every painful mistake, every lesson. If one single thing were different you would not be the person you have become, or the person you are meant to be. 

4. The keys to life are compassion, empathy, and being open-minded. There will be people that do things differently, it's fantastic how many different ways there are to accomplish the same task. There will be people who think that their way is the right way or the only way, don't be one of those people, they are so focused on proving their superiority to others that they miss all the wonderful things those people are doing. Make no mistake, always stand up for yourself and your ideals, but never try to force them upon someone else, it never ends well and everyone loses. 

5. Never be quick to pass judgment, you have no idea what type of day, week, month, year, stress, disability, mental or physical illness, abuse, loss, grief, suffering, etc. that person is going through. 

6. Be kind to those who are unkind to you, but don't let yourself be a doormat. Being kind doesn't have to mean you take what they dish out and ask for seconds. Be kind enough to let them go if they are a bad influence, be kind enough to tell the truth, be kind enough say nothing, be kind enough to let them take responsibility for their own actions. 

7. Know that no one is happy all the time, including you, and that's okay, it makes happiness all the more valuable. Let them/yourself feel their/your feelings, don't dismiss them as trivial or unimportant, there is a reason for those feelings. Don't lose yourself to them though, it's a hard road to come back, and that's experience speaking. 

8. You cannot control how other people act, what they do, or how they treat you. You can only control how you act, what you do, and how you respond to their treatment of you. 

9. Rudeness is NEVER acceptable. Ever. I don't care if you're having the worst day of your life and your entire meal order was wrong, you be polite and use the manners I have every intention of raising you with. 

10. Own nightgowns. Seriously. They are freeing and make you feel a little bit lady-like. 

11. Know there are people you will have to cut ties with, it's okay. It will hurt, and it's hard, but sometimes it's your only option. 

12. Know that sometimes people will cut ties with you, it's okay. It hurts, and it's hard, but have compassion for whatever issue they are working through that makes them feel it's their only option. 

13. Life's hard. You will fail sometimes, but it is only a tragedy if you learn nothing from your failures. No one is perfect, if we were chances are we wouldn't be here. 

That is not all I have, some things are too long, others too personal, but that gives you a good idea of the kind of things I think are important to impart to the next generation. If we spend more time teaching our children to care about everyone, including themselves, we don't have to worry about thinking we need to tell our daughters other women will try to tear her apart. 

Last bit of advice? Wear sunscreen.

Red Cup Drama

We're barely out of the first week of November and already it has begun, the cries of the "persecuted" Christians over the "War on Christmas." What triggered this tirade so early in the season, before we've even been through a well-deserved turkey tryptophan coma? A red cup.

Yup, you read that right.

A little red cup.

Now unless you've been living under a rock for the last couple of days I'm sure you've seen the rant by "preacher" Joshua Feuerstein about how Starbucks has joined the fight against Christmas by removing all of the snowmen, reindeer, snowflakes, and ornaments from the holiday cups they release each year. Never mind they still sell advent calendars and "Christmas blend" coffee, it's the cups that mean war.

So who is this guy that looks so much like the guy from King of Queens I find can no longer watch reruns? Well, turns out he's a sneaky little bugger. I'll let SemDem tell you here or you can watch CultofDusty's video for an idea of the type of person we're dealing with. Overall he seems like a special kind of con-man that preys on prayers, and those are the worst in my book.

Being the mouthy person I am I felt like I needed to comment on his post.

You make me sad. That sounds silly, I recognize that, but it's the truth. You make my heart hurt.
I am not a Christian, I'm completely okay admitting that, but America was built on the idea of religious freedom. I would fight for your right to worship your God just as vehemently as I would fight for my own rights. If I believed there was an actual war on Christians I would stand next to you to help defend you, even though I've been threatened with violence many times by so called "Christians," even though I know you would never stand with me if the roles were reversed. The thing is you are so self absorbed and so sure of your own righteousness that you don't care that you share the holiday season with other faiths. You are so sure that your way is the only way that you are willing to make someone practicing their own faith into a slight against yours. That's not how the world works, that's not how America is supposed to work. You do not have to agree with my religious outlook, you do not have to convert to my faith, you don't even have to like me as a person, all you have to do is accept that I have the same rights, I am an American and free to worship as I wish.
Your war against Starbucks is sad, and I hope that as you fight to keep "Christ" in "Christmas" you behave as if you have "Christ" in your "Christian" heart. I only mention it because the hatred filling up your Facebook pages makes you appear as if you've forgotten His message.

Later, I found out his wife had posted something supporting him on her page, so I went and left this same comment, with a little more added just for her,

I'll share what I posted on your husband's page. I think applies equally here but in a different context. I understand your wish for our country to have laws that reflect your morals as a Christian, but you forget that our nation was founded for all people. We can be a moral nation, a nation that sets out to do the best for its citizens, without being a Christian nation. To try to push your religion onto other people in an area of the country that has always been meant to be secular is disheartening for those of us who feel ourselves called to a different path.

And because it bothers me I'd just like to point out political correctness isn't about limiting your free speech or pandering to those you claim are easily offended. It's about reminding people with a limited, narrow world view that there are so many different, beautiful, wonderful cultures that make up out nation and they deserve the same rights and recognition. 

Now I didn't expect to change their hearts or their minds, people that are angry will always be angry. They seem to look for things to find offensive, but I wanted to see if we could open a dialog, really talk about the situation.

I can hear you laughing.

Josh never replied to my comments, but she did, in a way. She deleted my comments and banned me from posting on her page.

Yup. One more Facebook page to add to the banned list.

I feel sorry for her. How insecure you do you have to be in your own faith that you have to not only delete comments with opposing viewpoints but outright ban the person from commenting again. I can see if I had been hateful, rude, tactless, or ugly, but I really tried to be polite and respectful. She didn't have to comment back, she didn't have to leave my comment posted, and she had every right to ban me for absolutely no reason. It's Facebook, it is not that serious. I'm not mad about it, I just find it funny and a little sad.

It makes me sad that the Christians that seem the most vocal are people like Josh, shouting into a phone camera and spewing rage and lies, people like my VPCP dad and step-mom filling their Facebook wall with hate and bigotry, or people that have disproportionately angry reactions to anyone that dares tell them "Happy Holidays."

Not all Christians are hateful. Not all Christians are close minded bigots. Not all Christians are incapable of realizing they share the world with other people, other cultures, other faiths, and that that's okay.

Not all Christians are assholes, and as we get closer to the 8th level of hell that is the holiday season I will endeavor to remind myself of that fact.

The only way to make sense out of change...

...is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.

- Alan Watts

Dear (some) Christians,

Change is scary, I know. In an instant the world you know can become something new, and your first reaction can be fear, and it's byproduct hate. I try not to hold it against you, I do, but sometimes you make it so hard. 

June 26th, 2015 was a historical day. The Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) declared marriage equality, ruling that same-sex marriage is now legal in all 50 states. Your knee-jerk reaction was to pull out your smiting sticks and go waving them about in anger. It saddens me because it means you missed the message of SCOTUS completely. I would like to share with you my favorite quote.

“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right." 

You talk about how “they” will be the ruin of traditional marriage. I’m sorry but traditional marriage has been on the decline for years now (I made a post about it a while back) and it has nothing to do with those seeking marriage equality. Divorce is down, it's true, but how many of you believers in "traditional marriage" are on your second, or third, or more, "traditional marriage?" I'm not faulting you, you have your reasons and there is nothing wrong with it, I'm simply pointing out that "traditional" has evolved over the years to include divorce, maybe it should now evolve to include love.

Yes, love. That's what this whole thing is all about. The right to have their love recognized by the government. The right to be seen as people. By saying they have no right to get married you are saying they are less, they are not worthy of the same rights as you, they are not people.
Can you imagine how that would feel?

I can. I had a family member tell me I had no right to get married. Not because I wanted to marry someone of the same sex, simply because I worship a different god. Their claim was that "Marriage is a covenant between a man, a woman, and GOD" therefore, since I saw the divine a little different, what did I need to get married for anyway.

They were saying I was less because I was different. I will never see that person the same way, and it broke my heart a little they could be so nonchalantly cruel to me, someone they "loved."

I digress.

I'm not asking you to go dancing in the streets and to show up at every single wedding with a bouquet of flowers for the lucky grooms, or brides, or bride and groom. I'm not asking you to marry someone of the same sex. I'm not asking you to abandon your faith.

Luke 6:35 But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. 

If you think us wicked, the LGBTQ+ community and their supporters, then maybe this is all just a test for you. Maybe your god wants to see you be kind to those of us you deem your "enemy" in his name, rather than condemn us in his name.

If families are trees...

...mine is a pecan tree.

fam·i·ly

fam(ə)lē

noun 
     1.   a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household. 

     2.   all the descendants of a common ancestor. 

I have another definition I would like to add. 

     3. the people in your life that can hurt you the worst.

Now I realize that seems very pessimistic and possibly depressing but I know you all know exactly what I'm talking about. Whether it's a fight with someone that knows all your weak spots or just accidentally being left out of family get-together they have the capacity to hurt us worse than anybody because they are supposed to be the ones that have our back no matter what, right?

Maybe it's just my family.

Gods I hope not.

I believe I have mentioned before that I live in a very Christian area of the world, and this side of my family is filled with Good Southern Christian Folk. The other side of my family is in Colorado, and while they are not GSCF they are Proper Christian People, and then my parents, Very Proper Christian People. That's all well and good. Find your fuzzies and all that. Both sides have known for quite some time that I am Pagan. They know, they may ask me a question once every three years, but generally we don't talk about that fabulous skyclad elephant in the room. 

Bam. Pregnant. Well, you know not bam, that's not how babies happen. Well, I guess it kinda is. I digress. Pregnant, and then Witchling comes into the world in all her tiny squaling glory. I suppose it may have been naive of me to think that we could just continue to ignore the elephant while I loaded my kiddo up on its back. I figured, "You know, these people all raised their kids without people getting all up in their business as far as faith is concerned, I'm sure I'll be left alone too."

Yes, yes. Once you stop laughing please continue reading. 

See, I knew that we would have to talk about it at some point, but right now Witching is teething and drooling and chewing on the cat. We don't exactly have in depth philosophical conversations at the moment, mostly it's "Yum Yum peaches" and "No don't put that in your mouth." I thought I would have time to talk to my family about it later, but most of all, I thought we would talk about it. 

I thought that, seeing as how they were family, that they had enough respect for me, not my beliefs but ME, that they would bring up their concerns or whatever, I would tell them I understood where they were coming from but this is how DH and I decided to raise Witchling and then we would ask them to respect that and there would be hugs and cherry pie. End of story. 

I'll let you finish laughing again. 

What I never in eight million years would believe would happen would be that they, VPCP, would decide that they would just baptize my daughter the first time I left her alone with them. When I found out I was hurt, I was angry, and I felt more betrayed than I think I ever have, and I've had some big betrayals. 

So I made a post on Facebook, as one is wont to do. 

There comes a point in your life when you have to stop apologizing for being who you are when the person you are is pretty awesome. I try to be a good person every single day. I try to have compassion and empathy for others and I try to remind myself that a lot of hate is born from ignorance induced fear. I stand up for the rights of other individuals to follow whatever path to the divine they feel calls them, knowing that over and over again I will be condemned for my own. I don't hold a group of Muslims accountable for the actions of those who use Allah's name to hurt others anymore than I hold a group of Christians accountable for using their own God's name as an excuse to hate, hurt, and act in a way I'm sure makes Jesus, the "love your neighbor" guy, cringe.

 Faith is supposed to make you want to be the absolute version of yourself for yourself and for others. My absolute best self is 100% Pagan. I have now been Pagan for more years than I was Christian. Most of you on my friends list have only ever known me as a Pagan. I am not a bad person. I don't worship Satan. Heck I don't even litter. I believe whatever you put out into the world comes back to you so I do everything I can to only put out super awesome happy hippie vibes of love and flowers and whatnot. 

Here's the deal though. Every single one of you with children has had the opportunity to raise your child how you see fit. [DH] and I deserve that same respect. I'm not saying we're going to raise her Pagan, or Hindu, or Buddhist, or Christian, or Muslim, or Jedi. I'm saying whatever we decide is our right as her parents and it should be respected and if not encourage at least not undermined. I can tell you one thing I know for absolute sure about how we'll raise our daughter and that is with tolerance and love for all people, regardless of faith.

I followed with a disclaimer about commenting, because there have been some absolutely HORRID comments left on my posts by family members and I am done tolerating abuse. I informed anyone who had any issues to save me the trouble and delete me from their friends list.

Dear reader, imagine the heart warming shock I got as people posted their messages of support. People I hadn't talk to in years, people I would have never thought would support me, and not one single vile comment. I was flabbergasted.

Of course the people who didn't like the post were quite loud in their silent protest, but it was silent.

I know that my family and I will have to have the talk about Witchling's immortal soul. I will calmly tell them how my daughter will be raised, when they can begin taking her to church and under what circumstances, and I will make it abundantly clear that they are not to do anything without my permission first. I will explain that I am not saying that she cannot take part in their faith, or that she will be forced into mine, but simply that I am her parent and I will not be disrespected.

I realize we will probably lose them from our lives at this point. I grew up surrounded by toxic people and I won't expose my daughter to that. She will never want for love with or without them so if I have to let them go to protect her, I will.

I think the saddest thing of all about it is that, at the moment, I honestly don't care one way or the other.

The Care and Handling of Your Introvert

1. Never feed them after midnight.
2. Never get them wet.

Wait, wrong movie.

I've noticed new trend all throughout my Facebook news feed. Apparently it is now cool to be an introvert. Where were these articles proclaiming the badassery of the average introvert when I was in school? Where were the lists of top ten things everyone needs to know about introverts then? I would have eaten fewer lunches by myself if people had know how secretly awesome my weird personality quirk was. Or maybe I wouldn't and that would have been okay too, because I was the super cool introvert that just needed her space to regroup and recharge. 

Let me tell you though, as completely steller - is that still a word?- as being an introvert is, it's also 100% exhausting right now. The witchling and I are staying with The Fam whilst DH finishes up the house. Out of Town Fam is ALSO staying here for the holidays, which is actually very exciting. The witchling is always just right there, which is still great in my new mommy phase. 

My alone time to regroup and recharge? A 5 minute trip to the store to get a drink maybe once a day.

With all the lists and all the blogs and all the articles it's still hard for everyone to understand how hard it is to just hang out with people. Or how tiring it is to feel like you have to be "on" all the time, to smile, not to let your face fall into resting bitch face because then you have the go around of "What's wrong?" and "Is everything okay?" because these people are fantastic and genuinely care about you.  

So you can totally feed us after midnight, I prefer poptarts, but I'm not going to make a list of all the ways to help your introvert friends, or how to spot us like we're some mythical, magical creature or a majestic whale off the coast of Washington state. There are plenty of blog posts out there if that's what you're looking for. I swear, just google introvert. Like I said, we're totally "in" right now.

I have noticed how my introvert-with-social-anxieties-ness reflects in my magical life.

I tend to do my work at night, usually late, because of that stillness in the world that lets you believe, even for just a moment, that you are the only person alive. I can fully breathe in that moment, fully let go without worrying about having to make small talk, or having to remember to keep some pleasant look on my face.

Attending events has always been hard for me. I've had to push myself to go, and usually I spend the whole drive there feeling like I'm going to throw up and wanting to bail out of the car like some action movie hero.

Tuck and Roll!

When I do force myself to go to an event I tend to hang out near the back and not talk to anyone. If anyone approaches me I feel my butt cheeks clinch and I understand fully what a deer feels like between October 1 and January 15. 

If I do talk to these people and make new acquaintances it's hard to become friends with them and fully network because there are some days I just can't deal. My phone may ring and it stirs a pit of dread and despair within my poor nervous stomach.   

I've also made some fantastic friends because I found great people that got It.

I've had in depth conversations about the who, what, when, where, and why's of their personal brand of magic and ritual.

I've learned to raise great energy with others, and how to do it on my own.

I can sit in the mountains near my home for hours alone, just drinking in the silence and recharging my batteries without feeling the need to move or go or do. I can appreciate that the only sound is the wind rushing through the trees and across the boulders. 

It's a give and take, like everything in life. There is good and bad and some days, when I've not had a moment alone to even take a deep breath, it's a struggle to find the middle ground. Life and magic are about balance though, if you can't find it, strive for it.

My style of introvert may not be the same as yours, or you may be one of the rare mythical, magical creatures known as extroverts. Whatever the case may be at least on the internet no one has to eat lunch alone, we can all find our people.

Tune in next week as I try to get into the habit of blogging consistently.

Minor Rant

I live in the lovely, incredibly Christian state of Oklahoma. When I say incredibly Christian I mean it. Ada, population 17,000, has 51 churches. Oklahoma is indeed the Bible Belt Buckle and as a Pagan living here I've learned a few things, mainly to keep my mouth shut on most of my opinions. I scroll though my Facebook feed and see everyone I know posting exactly what is on their mind and I keep scrolling because I know 1. my opinion won't be popular 2. my opinion isn't wanted 3. my opinion will get me viciously (verbally) attacked, mostly by my own loving family.

It's a pretty depressing situation.

I guess I could say "fuck it" and post what I want, and I usually do, but some subjects are so hot button I simply don't have the emotional energy to deal with the hate anymore, because while I can read their opinion, disagree with it, respect their right to have that opinion, and keep scrolling, apparently I am an idiot to expect the same respect. It drives me crazy sometimes.

I love my faith, I love my path. I find it beautiful, it speaks directly to my soul and drives me to be a better person, but it's not an easy path to walk living where I do. I recognize it could be worse though, there are still people killed every day for being labeled "witch" and that brings me to the point of my post today.

It all started bright and early with this article on my newsfeed on Facebook. Basically it is a woman in the progressive state of Arkansas has declared her indoor shooting range a "Muslim-free zone."

Now I have a couple of different opinions about this. I dislike a whole lot of government involving its self in my business so if she wants to be a bigot, whatever. I reserve the right to boycott her store and call her out on her small mindedness. She reserves the right to refuse service and I don't want the government trying to change that because for every once of power we give them they take another fifty pounds.

Paranoid? Possibly, but I think at this juncture we all should be.

My problem is that she cites the Oklahoma "Muslim" beheading. I remember the original news cast, before they found out the man was Muslim. He beaded the women because he was fired, not because of his faith. When it came to light that the man was Muslim I knew that the focus would shift and things would be blown out of proportion.

Now there it is, in every article, his religious affiliation. It has been all over the news, including national news, and has been a Very Big Deal.

But, did you hear about the other Oklahoma beheading?

What? You didn't?

In this case a Christian man (nearly) beheaded another man for practicing witchcraft. This never even came up in the news. Not once. The only reason I found out about it was because OUT OF STATE websites posted something and my Google alerts picked it up.

Oh but he was on drugs so it was all the meth's fault.

You don't hear anyone saying they are going to ban Christians from their business for fear of their lives, despite Christianity's own bloody past, and present.

There are bad eggs no matter what the faith.

Here's my main issue though, I'm sure you're ready for me to get to the point. So many Americans are sheep, waiting to be told what to be afraid of.

The media blows ebola out of proportion, by the way there are no more cases of it in the US but we were all terrified of a pandemic.

It sensationalizes anything having to do with Islam.

"Holy cow did you hear that crazy person that did that bad thing had a brother's sister-in-law's uncle's cousin that read the Quran once?"

It keeps us so busy labeling and hating one another while the local and federal government engages in random stupidity. If we could spend a little less time being afraid, and a little more time on compassion, maybe we could pull ourselves out of this craziness instead of waiting for congress to do it for us.

Something... pink this way comes?

It was February 8th and DH and I had an unpleasant and daunting day ahead of us, we were to drive up to be with his family while his aunt was taken off life support. There was just one little thing I had to do before I woke him up to get ready for the day.

Yup. Pregnant for the first time. Not quite how I was expecting the day to start. I'd been peeing on sticks for so long I didn't possibly think this one would come up positive when none of the others had. Surprise. I, still in a bit of shock, shoved the positive test in DH's face as a wake up call and after convincing him that it was not a joke we went about our day as planned, with one unscheduled stop so I could pick up a new journal.

It was a strange day to say the least. I knew that DH's aunt would not make some magical miracle recovery. She was such an amazing woman and for the last 10 years had accepted me fully and treated me as if I were one of her own, offering me unconditional love, a shoulder to cry on when the loss of my own mother caught up to me, someone to vent to about anything, and teaching me so much about every aspect of life from cooking to fishing. I also knew she was tired, and had refused round two of a "treatment" that nearly killed her the first time, but I found comfort in my faith.

Paganism teaches us that the universe is about balance. Where there is life there is also death, and thankfully death is never the end.

Fast forward 3 months.

We have found out our little bundle is a girl, and she'll be making her debut in the first weeks of October. We've managed to get through the first trimester without any major freak outs, but each day I find myself afraid of something new.

The major fear that has overrun my thoughts lately, and the main reason for this post?

Pagan Parenting.

DH is agnostic and after a lengthy discussion he agreed that raising our daughter in my faith would be the right decision for our family. The problem I fear comes from the extended family.

Like most Pagans I was raised in a Christian family. We did the church thing every Sunday, and Wednesday, and sometimes Saturdays, faithfully. I went to church camp, did community work, and tried so very hard to be the good Christian girl I knew my family wanted me to be, and found myself battling depression when I felt I couldn't meet their expectations. My mother got sick, I got angry, and things got worse until I found that first book on Wicca.

Suddenly what I always felt and believed at my core had a name. Suddenly I wasn't staring at a lifetime of trying to force myself into a faith that just didn't fit. Suddenly I was free... to hide my faith from everyone I knew. Being anything but die-hard Christian is hard in the Bible Belt. As I got closer to graduating and getting out of my tiny home town I became more comfortable in my path and began, well, really just NOT hiding. I didn't come out of the broom closet crystals blazing, but I wore my pentacle openly and actually drew one on a "self portrait collage" assignment in art class.

Of course my grandma pulled my pentacle off my neck and told me to be careful lest a cross be burned in my front yard, and my principal tried to make me take my collage down, but I wasn't deterred.

So all of DH's family, and most of my family, knows that I'm Pagan. I don't hide anymore, and even post Pagan related things on Facebook, but it's not really something that we ever talk about, aside from the random "So is that a Wicca thing?" question.

Therein lies the problem. We're going to have to talk about it. We're going to have to have several discussions on the fact my daughter will not be raised Christian and what this means for us as a whole family. I have a feeling this is going to suck.

How do I explain to them that while I respect their faith and understand their good intentions when it comes to my child's own spiritual path I don't want her indoctrinated into a religion before she understands what it means.

Yes, I realize that I just said that I want to raise her in my faith, and that's the thing. My faith, not my religion. What does that mean exactly?

• I don't ever want her to hate someone because they are different. It doesn't matter who they love, how they pray, or to whom they pray. What matters is doing everything that you can to be a good person.

• I don't want her to be ashamed of herself, or her body. I want her to have a healthy self image and realize her self worth. There are too many broken girls out there willing to share their body with anybody in the mistaken hope that it means they will be loved, even if just for the night, I don't want one of them to be mine.

• I want to give her the tools to be confident enough to make her own decisions. I want her to have the strength to look me in the eye and tell me Paganism isn't for her if she knows it's not the path she's supposed to walk. I want her to find her spiritual home, not because she was told she was going to hell if she didn't believe but because she knows in her soul it is where she is supposed to be. 

I hope my family understands that I'm trying to raise her to be a strong person. I hope they see past the titles of religion and into the heart of why I'm doing what I'm doing. I hope they don't let their good intentions get in the way of being our support system. They were each given the opportunity to raise their children the way they saw fit, and I only ask for that same courtesy.