Contemplation and Dedication

December 30, 2013 at 2:18 am (Chronic Pain, Living, Living With Chronic Illness, Mental Health, Spiritual, The Panniculectomy, Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Today will be a year and a day since my ordeal. It has been a very difficult, draining, painful year. I have suffered so many different kinds of loss that I don’t know if I can cleanly separate one from another. They have come at me from every direction, from places I would have never suspected, and in ways that only made any sort of sense in retrospect. I spent a lot of time mourning. This should have surprised me a lot less than it did, having struck a complex and winding deal with Death herself, but I’m still a Fool who bumbles forward ignoring all the big “Dead End” signs along the way.

And then, a few days ago, a very small light was lit. I spoke to Hel directly, and the best way to describe what happened would be that I got my “annual review”. We spoke about times when I truly contemplated in the way She had asked, and times when I did everything I could to avoid said contemplation. She showed me in that transpersonal yet compassionate way how each distraction from my Purpose had been removed. It sometimes felt like a student of meditation getting wacked on the knuckles every time they were obviously not focusing. But I learn the best lessons through pain, both emotional and physical, so it’s not like She was speaking a foreign language.

After we went through the Year of Contemplation, I asked if my failures and misdeeds meant that I had to Contemplate for another year again. “Oh no”, She replies with a slightly amused grin, “It’s not like when a new lesson begins, the old ones end. It just means you are building upon the foundation, and contemplation was the first layer.” Oh yippie skippy.

The next theme came to me slowly. I saw some opportunities start to swirl and manifest around me, and having learned some of my lesson, I wondered if this was a test to see if I would give in to another diversion. As quickly as I could, I went back to Her and asked for clarification. I’ve made enough terrible mistakes already; I was willing to risk being told to figure it out on my own if it meant She might share more insight.

That’s when 2014’s theme was given to me, much in the same way that 2013 was the Year of Contemplation. This year is to be the Year of Dedication. I will still spend much time, likely even more than last year, in spiritual contemplation, but I will also be taking on the responsibilities of sorting out what people/places/things fall within my calling, and which ones only serve as distractions or hidey-holes where I can run away from the difficulties of my station. Some of the plans I have for 2014 have already shown how they are part of my Dedication, and other plans have already been deemed unfit.

I am still sorting out one aspect of Dedication, and I think my confusion is because I really want Her to give me a straight answer, and She wants me to find the right answer on my own. When I first was in preparation for the ordeal, I knew that She wanted some form of oath or promise that would bind me to Her. I had first toyed with the idea of becoming Her consort or spouse, and honestly the reason I didn’t explore that further was because I listened to someone I shouldn’t have who had big stakes in the outcome of that decision. But now I am unfettered (for the most part) and the question lays on the table again. For now, I am offering her my celibacy, which is going to be a very big challenge for me. For I am not only forgoing sexual contact as part of this experiment, but I am also consciously not looking or even really fantasizing about finding a new lover. (Right now, I have a mostly non-sexual relationship with Rave, and a few romantic relationships that are not only long distance, but that I rarely ever see; so the temptation has been present to try to find a new dating situation of some sort.) What I understand as the long term goal of this experiment has less to do with establishing a sexual or romantic relationship with Hel, and more about accepting the reality of my life at 40 years old.

I have tried, more than a few times, to establish a “family”. In some cases, I married or created a partnership with a person whom I felt was able and willing to establish a family unit with, only to have the relationships fall apart and with that, a complete cut-off from their life. Other than that, I have tried starting covens, communal families of choice, and other group dynamics that focused on a long-term familial devotion to one another, but most of them (really, save one) have all eventually given in to entropy. I know this yearning for family is partially due to the instability of my childhood; and that has become even more of an issue with my mother’s passing early in December. I have never met my father’s extended family, and my maternal one has become estranged from me over time. The feeling is even stronger and sadder now that both of my parents are dead; even my brother voiced his concern to me that without my mother, we may all lose touch with each other.

I also have always wanted children. I had the opportunity once when I was much younger, but I opted out thinking that I would someday reach a more stable relationship in which to bring offspring. I have tried, both in the unofficial “hey, let’s just stop using protection” path, as well as with a more formal “let’s track my ovulation and basal body temperature and have sex when things look ripe for it”, and other than a few miscarriages it just never happened. Now I am having unmistakable signs of perimenopause, and I don’t have a fertile partner of the right biological sex in order to give it one last try. And even if I did, my life is just not conducive to the responsibilities inherent in having a child, which is why adoption is not an alternative. My best hopes is to try to remain an active part of my godson’s lives, and accept my childless lot.

It’s a lot to give up. When other people were dreaming of stellar careers and fancy trips, I’ve always had a far simpler vision of what I thought my life would be like. I just wanted a stable family life wherein all of the people involved had made a lifelong commitment to love and respect each other, and work collaboratively in raising some kick-ass children. I never really cared about what I would be doing or how much money we had, just that there were both adults and children in my life and that we had a loving, fun-filled home.

Then again, when I surrendered, first to Loki and later to Hel, I never asked for the family package. In fact, I consider myself lucky that I have been able to have the relationships I have experienced in the last fifteen years, and I have fond memories of all of them, even the ones that ended on bad terms. I know plenty of spirit workers who have been denied the opportunity to have mortal lovers at all, so I know they were a blessing. And there’s nothing written in stone that I won’t be able to have them in the future (yet); it’s just that I need to take this time to dedicate myself to the reality I am in, have been given, and to stop pining and/or trying to create a reality that is not mine to have. So the celibacy is less about not having sex (I am still allowed to masturbate, thank you Hel), and more about letting those dreams slowly rot on Her altar. If I were to take time to find and pursue a new lover, it would very much distract me from that process, and rekindle my hope.

And She has said that this is not forever, and that any changes to that I will have some say in. If Mx. Perfect-for-Del shows up, then part of that perfectness will have to be the understanding that sex is not on the table right away – not that it was with lovers in my past, either – and that my calling as Her shaman-and-sometimes-consort takes a huge precedence over any mortal, any day. It means that the tasks and responsibilities I take on this year as I begin to hone-in on what I am dedicating myself to are very much more important in terms of time, energy, focus, and availability. I will have to be very clear and unrelenting in my communication about what I am able to share with a lover, and if they can’t accept that, it’s better we know that up front, than spend a long time both hoping that things will somehow change.

I know that this year of dedication will be a lot of work. Not only personal work in the same way contemplation was, but also actual “must be awake, alert, and able to engage” types of work. My pain has been bad enough for the last two months that my doctor is very concerned, and I am also showing some early signs that I may have a new abscess. But part of what She wants from me is to find the balance between making time to do the things that allow me to be as functional as possible – like going to doctor’s appointments, seeking out therapies, eating well and getting what exercise I can tolerate, etc – but at the same time, not falling into another dark hole of counterproductive nothingness just because I feel shitty. I don’t know where that balance is quite yet, but I will sure be trying to find it.

I have so many other things to write about – obviously, my mother’s death being one of them – and honesty, I’ve started six or seven different entries and I eventually realize that I’m just not ready to share so openly yet. Another sad consequence of 2013 is that I had to learn to be much more circumspect about what I share online, as I have found more than once, someone using my words, my experiences, my life, etc as a way to attack, belittle, hurt, shame, or punish me. Some of the entries that I have deleted were purely emotional responses to such things, and I know that sort of pettiness does nothing but make me look like a jerk – I know this, because the people who did these things sure looked like jerks when they did it first. Instead, I am taking some time to note important thoughts, feelings, and insights, and when I am able to write from a less tumultuous perspective, I will get back into the swing of things.

But for now…

Hail Hel, Lady of Mercy and Patience.

Hail Hel, Who is as Warm as She is Cold.

Hail Hel, Who Loves Silly Fools Who Take Too Long To Learn.

Hail Hel, Giver of Life and Death in Equal Measure.

Hail Hel, Entropic Transformation.

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It’s Not About the People, Lesson 1

November 18, 2013 at 1:17 am (Death and Dying, Mental Health, Spiritual) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

This post has been brewing in my brain all year. I guess I was sort of waiting for a specific moment of inspiration or insight to commit it to an essay, but since my task was to contemplate what it means, not figure out what it means (both for me and in general), I’m going to share some places my year-long project for Hel has taken me.

This simple statement – It’s Not About the People – has been one hell of a koan-like puzzle for me. And merely sitting with my confusion, rather than trying to find my way out, taught me the first of many lessons that I have since tried to apply to my life.

Lesson One: Your Job is not to make people happy, or tell them what they want to hear, or do things for them so that they will like you.

I will admit, I am a people pleaser. Growing up, I compensated for my lack of charisma and attraction by being the friend who makes you happy. If you need to laugh, I have funny jokes and stories. If you need someone to help you move, I was there and brought three friends. If you need a rare-edition book for your master’s thesis, I will devote time and energy to find it. Nowadays, I joke about my “magickal rolodex” being my superpower, in that I know such a diverse number of people who also have a wide range of skills, collections, and interests, that no matter what you might need in your life, I probably know someone who has it or can help you do it or someone who will do it for you.

But these things carry a price, something that I have to stop ignoring and come to terms with. As I am losing mobility, having fewer and fewer good spoon days, and my resources are dwindling, I just cannot afford to be all things to all people. Sometimes I can’t even afford to be one thing to the right person – looking at some of my recently failed relationships, it’s obvious to me that there were parts where I just didn’t show up and engage enough. And I’m not deluding myself into thinking that it’s all related to my physical health – I’ve been pretty depressed this year and sometimes my ability to engage with others was extremely limited because of my depression. I am taking steps to at least face how bad my depression has gotten, but right now I don’t see an immediate burst of sunshine on the horizon. My counselor reminds me that sometimes the true observation is “Things fucking suck right now.”

As I explored this facet of the koan, I really began in earnest to think about and enact some much-needed boundaries in my life. There were definitely areas that were sapping my resources fast and dirty, and it will not surprise you that most of those areas reacted with the biggest and more painful responses when I tried to stifle the flow a little. There were some people/places/things that had come to expect me to jump when they called, to never ask for compensation for my time and efforts (and in some cases, even refusing to reimburse me for monetary investments). It has cost me at least one friendship, which broke my heart. But at the same time, it gave me an intense sense of clarity as to how some people define what it means to be a friend – that for some, if you’re not actively adding benefit to their life in a tangible way, you’re not worth a phone call or email once in a while.

I also had to turn this part inside out, and I will admit that I am still a work in progress on this. I had to look at how I deal with the vast amount of relationships (not just romantic/sexual, but all different kinds) I consider important and detail to myself what levels of effort these relationships need. The obvious example is my relationship with email – I have a reputation of never answering my email, or not answering it in a timely fashion. I tend to hide behind physical excuses, although they are sometimes legitimate, about my inability to sit and type for long periods of time. (I have tried dictation, but it doesn’t work as well for reasons that I won’t get into.) But I’d be a big fat liar if I said that was the only, or even the most common reason why I don’t respond to emails, return phone calls, or other forms of communication. I did a lot of meditating on the whys and wherefores about this, and two flaws I have decided to work on. One is feeling overwhelmed too easily. It would be embarrassing for me to admit how small a day’s itinerary can be before I throw my hands up and freak out. Like most people, I have days when I am more or less productive, but the days I am less productive have become to far outweigh the more productive ones.

Part of that is a honest coming to terms with how much actual energy I have on an average day. Although most people have days where they plan much more than they can actually accomplish, that has become almost a daily occurence for me. I’m either wildly optimistic about how much I can do, or I’m overly pessimistic and do very little. The problem becomes that there are rarely days where I land somewhere in the middle – once I fail to accomplish one or two tasks, I throw in the towel and spend the rest of the day goofing off. It also has the effect of beating myself up over stuff I failed to accomplish, as well as a slowly increasing backlog that becomes really overwhelming (vs. my anxiety driven feelings of overwhelm, which may or may not relate to the actual amount of stuff I’m supposed to be doing).

This leaves me in a pretty obvious quandry: If I make “make people happy” or it’s corollary, “Do things so people will like you”, my first priority; but I am coming to stark terms about exactly how much I can expect to accomplish on a regular basis – something has to give. And although in a dream world the solution would be to find the power-up magic pills in my real-life video game and suddenly have more stamina/less pain; the harsh reality in my real-life documentary is that I can’t always make people happy if their happiness is contingent on me keeping up with correspondence or doing other forms of work (especially for free – but that’s less about money and more about reciprocity).

Hel comes to remind me, or maybe just school me, that my first and most important priority is serving the Gods, and the work that They ask of me. So learning how to create better boundaries and knowing my limitations when it comes to “the people”, helps me be a better shaman and God-employee because They get my best. Many, if not all, the people in my life give lip service to understanding this, but I can probably count on fingers how many really grok how that has transformed my life. It has been difficult, because obviously what I would like to do with my life and my time is sometimes at direct odds with what They want from me. And in some cases, I have been tasked with doing the same thing over and over again until something happens (that is outside my control), and it feels downright wrong to spend time on something that has a high chance of being shoved back in my face, rather than spend time answering email and being social. But this is only one of the harsh realities of the price I paid to live in December, that although I had already forfeited my Will to Loki, that the deal with Hel included forfeiting most of my Life. This is compounded by the other, less obvious “benefit” that I have several Divine Bosses, and even a few that just Boss Me Around, and the tangible web/chains of the many oaths and Relationships I have developed over time has made me very circumspect about my own cavalier attitude I once held about accepting the offer of Whatever God Showed Interest, rather than really sitting and figuring out if I had the time and energy I would be asked for.

In short, I started acting with the Gods the way I acted with my schoolmates when I was in Junior High School. I didn’t care if you were a Jock, a Prep, a Freak, a Stoner, a Bad Kid – if you showed me the least amount of attention, I would do almost anything you asked as long as you continued to be my friend. I mean, I had more than one person say, to my face, that they really liked being my friend but they didn’t want the people at school to know (because then they would become secondary targets to the teasing/torture I got on a regular basis), and made me agree to keep our friendship a secret. I am not quite so desperate when it comes to Gods, but I know people who have been, and continue to be so. They are just so happy that Someone, Anyone is paying them attention, that they don’t really think through what the consequences might be. Loki may be showing you some attention, but don’t come crying to me if your life gets completely upended and you can’t seem to make heads or tails of anything anymore – invite a God of Eternal Change into you life, you get exactly what’s on the tin. Odin may propose marriage to you, which sounds romantic and important and satisfying, until you learn that He wants you to abstain from human relationships, or decides that you should quit your only-means-of-financial-support job and travel around the country helping the homeless and doing ritual for Him. There are lots of stories like this, and they tend to be the stories that you don’t find on the Internet – they are the ones told around campfires, or after rituals, or during pastoral care sessions.

This is where lesson 1 bleeds into lesson 2, so I will let you know what lesson 2 is as foreshadowing for my next essay:

Being a shaman means that you work for the Gods, not for your clients.

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Am I Lying?

May 8, 2013 at 7:14 pm (Chronic Pain, Disability, Hospitalizations, Living, Living With Chronic Illness, Mental Health, The Journey Towards Diagnosis) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

It’s been a difficult time. This past trip to Johns Hopkins has left me running on very low energy. There’s been a lot of sleeping, a lot of powering down, a lot of what I call “spoon banking”, times where I purposefully go into low energy mode because I have a lot of high energy commitments coming up, and I want to feel as good as I can when they happen. I’m looking at one of them this weekend, going to an event I’m kinda nervous about for a lot of reasons.

It’s been hard. The wound VAC experience hasn’t been as wonderful as no one told me it would. Basically, to be a little graphic, three times a week a nurse comes to my house to rip out foam that’s been stuck inside my wound, under negative pressure, which has partially adhesed to the wound. It hurts, each and every time, and it was only my mentioning that they used lidocaine when I was in the hospital that the nurse even thought of it.

I’ve started many blog posts, both for here and my other blog, but none of them have grown into anything worth posting. I usually only have a few paragraphs in me before I start to fade, or when all the drugs I’m on kick in and I get all fuzzy and it becomes very hard to focus. I know that people are interested in what’s been going on, have been waiting to hear how I’m feeling and how I’m recovering, but I don’t know how to make a meaningful post out of ‘Ow, sleepy, more ow, more sleepy.”

But even when I’m not actively blogging on a regular basis, I still do check in with WordPress. I read some of the other blogs I subscribe to. If I feel like I need a kick in the pants, sometimes I took at my stats. Mostly I just look at the numbers as they slowly decrease – and that makes sense, as less people read my blog when I’m not writing anything – but I also enjoy reading the search terms, the phrases that people put into search engines that lead them to my blog. Most of the time I find them either educational (I may actually write more about my experiences about both panniculectomies and hernia repairs, as many people come here looking for information about them), or humorous. My most favorite of all time is “If I eat a crow, will I get sick?”, which I assume lead the person to my post about going gluten free.

This week, however, I had a search term that made me ponder. I read it, and it made me think. It said, very simply, “Is Del Tashlin lying?” (I added the capitalization to my name.)

I am not as surprised as you might think I am. I have detractors, and I’ve written about them before. I’ve always been the kind of person that people either really like or really hate; very few people meet me and think, “eh, whatever”. I never delude myself into thinking that there aren’t people out there who have had extremely bad experiences at my hands, or reading my words, or being a part of my life. I know I’ve hurt people, I’ve alienated them, I’ve done or said something that made them think I’m a terrible person.

I honestly believe that’s true of just about anyone. In fact, sometimes it’s easier to find people who think a specific person is a terrible, awful human being, than it is to find someone to stand up for them and speak to their strengths.

When I first met the now STBX, I asked around about him. I didn’t know him very well, and we didn’t have any friends in common, so I was hoping to find someone I could trust who would calm my fears about dating someone so far outside of my social circle. And as the story goes, he had a few friends who I knew tangentially through others (gamer geek circles tend to overlap) who told me he was a stand-up fellow, and I decided to date him. He even admitted to me on our first real “date” that he had cheated on his first wife. I took that to mean that he was willing to be honest with me about both his strengths and his weaknesses, and that was attractive to me. I admire someone who is willing to offer up a full picture of who they are when you’re starting to get to know them. Usually, we’re too busy trying to put our best foot forward, to look as attractive as we can, in hopes of roping the suckers in. It meant a lot to me that he was so honest. It gave me hope.

And before we jump to the end of the story, there was definitely a middle. There was struggles and successes. I refuse to lock all of my good and uplifting memories of our relationship into a box and only focus on how things ended. I am doing everything within my power to continue to see him as I did in the beginning; someone who is neither all-bad or all-good, but a complicated person with as many successes as failures in his life.

In that vein, I’ve asked my lovers, family, and others close to me to keep their thoughts and feelings about the separation to themselves. I have asked them to be civil with him and his new family when they find themselves in social situations with them. Even though many of them are as hurt as I am, feel personally betrayed by the whole situation, because they bought into much of what they saw and felt about him as being not just a good partner for me, but a good person in general. But I think part of what makes that complicated, is that we all try hard to see our friends and family-of-choice as being generally good people. We try to downplay the parts of them that we don’t agree with, or aren’t as pretty or good or civil. How many times have you been in a relationship where you’ve done something to hide your partner’s lesser qualities? I think we’ve all been there, whether it was me explaining away the rampant anti-social behavior of my first husband, making excuses for the anti-semitism of another lover, the untreated alcoholism of yet someone else, etc. I don’t claim to be perfect, and I don’t date perfect people either.

In fact, when I fall in love with someone, I try as best I can to fall in love with their weaknesses, their imperfections, the things that most people would see as negative. I don’t go rooting around looking for them – I know they’ll show their face in good time – but when they become apparent, I open my heart even harder and tell myself that if I’m really in love with this person, I’m in love with all of them – even the parts that embarrass me, or that aren’t socially acceptable, or the parts they hate the most.

Sometimes this can be healing: I’ve loved many people’s bodies when the owner of that body couldn’t. I’ve loved people’s fight with their sexual orientation or gender identity. I’ve loved them as they made choices that would turn out to be bad for them, or bad for both of us. I strive to love beyond just the good parts, the hidden parts; to me, that’s the ground where real intimacy lies. When you can look into someone’s inner monsters and tell them they are loved.

How does any of this have to do with whether or not I’m a liar?

I used to be a really big liar. Growing up, lying was like breathing. I remember telling kids in the new school I found myself in, 4th grade, that I had a metal implant in my leg. Whenever I felt ignored or left out of something, I would go to one of them I had spun this tale to, and would say something like, “My ‘ML’ hurts!” and they would immediately leave whatever they were doing to spend time with me.

I find that story funny now, for somewhat obvious reasons. Now a days, I am terrified to talk about the depth and breadth of my disability, specifically for many of the reasons that I lied about it when I was 11. I don’t want people to be my friend out of pity. I don’t want people to stay away from me because my chronic illness makes being my friend/lover more difficult. I don’t want to shake the “I’m in the hospital” banner too often, lest it start to feel like a child crying “wolf”, and not being able to rally support when I really need it.

I also had to face a big challenge from Loki during my shamanic crisis. One of the things He demanded from me was that I never lie. I can bend the truth, I can embellish for storytelling purposes, I can avoid talking about something or omit details: some people see these things as equitable to outright lying. And maybe it is. But the promise I made was that I would never say something that was out-and-out untrue.

I am not perfect. When I am upset, especially when I am in an argument, I am apt to say whatever comes to mind in the moment, including things that are said merely to wound the person hearing them. Frequently, these things are untrue. In the moment, I find it extremely difficult to hold back from doing that; my passion takes over and my desire to hurt the person who is hurting me takes over. I hate it, it’s a part of me that I see as imperfect, a part of me I would hide from people if I could.

I sometimes know what I have to say in order to get a certain response. People who see me in the hospital sometimes comment that maybe the reason I run into problems with pain management is because I can look at a doctor and calmly tell them I’m in 9 out of 10 pain. I’m not crying, or rocking back and forth, or breaking down. I can be emotional about some things, but pain is no longer one of them. I deal with pain so often, almost always, that it is totally possible for me to truly be in excruciating pain and still have a calm demeanor. With these new bandage changes, I would be completely wrecked every other day if I let the pain take me to such an emotionally rendered place. I need to stay stoic so I can get up, go on living my life. If I let all the pain I feel all the time control my emotional state, I would very likely never get anything done ever, and would spend every single day in bed falling apart.

That’s part of what has made the last two weeks especially difficult for me. I’m not far from that. The bandage changes are Monday/Wednesday/Friday, first thing in the morning, and I find that at least for now, those days are basically “survival” days. I’m happy if I do more than just watch streaming video and use the bathroom those days – feeding myself is a victory. This weekend will be a test, to see if I can heal enough from Friday’s change that by Saturday, I can have a little fun and teach some classes. I’m totally up for the challenge, and I have to be: sometimes wound VAC treatments can last more than three or four months, and I have a very deep, very big wound. On the brighter side, I am showing some small signs of healing already, but it’s not going to be a short journey. I will be working in and through this for a long time, and I know that I am going to have to start making those days more productive if I’m going to get through this mentally.

I understand that I could choose to take more time off, to decide that this isn’t going to get any better and just close myself down until the wound is better. The problem is? I just did that, from August to February. I don’t want to do that anymore. I have a strong emotional and mental need to get out of the house, to get back to a semblance of a normal life, or as much of one as I can handle. I know I can’t be a superhero all the time, and that I will have to make choices all along the way to remind myself that I’m still not “well”, whatever that means these days. But I refuse to just sit in my house and feel sorry for myself and my pain for a year or longer. Seven months was enough.

I also accept that this is the new normal. I know a lot of people use the idea that “someday things will get better” as a way to keep their spirits up and hope alive. I have learned, through the last year’s experiences, that saying that to myself is lying. I struggled in my marriage to remind my spouse that there was no magical day coming when I would no longer have chronic pain/illness/disability, that there was no magic doctor out there waiting to give me a magic diagnosis that was going to fix everything. To me, where I am in the process, that sounds about as realistic as winning the lottery and marrying royalty and living in luxury for the rest of my life. I know that’s not my road, I know it in my bones, and I refuse to let anyone around me live in that illusion, so I have to start with myself.

I have to accept each moment as it is, not as I hope it could be, or how it might be someday. I have to accept that even if the wound VAC does what it’s supposed to and keep me from getting any more abscesses, it doesn’t mean that I won’t still have chronic pain, worsening diabetes, diminishing mobility, etc.

When I was in the hospital this last time, someone I’ve been kinda sorta flirting with came to see me. That was a big deal to me, because I still struggle with being completely open with potential lovers about the reality of my health situation. My STBX really made me gunshy about that; I don’t want to feel like I’ve sold someone a bad bill of goods by convincing them I am more healthy/painfree than I reall am, but at the same time, I don’t want them to think that every single day of being in a relationship with me will be about doctors and hospitals  and medical devices. It was hard for me to have my crush there, but it was also important. I needed to know that they understood that this is an integral part of my reality now; that for me, being in the hospital is a somewhat “normal” event, rather than the earmark of an emergency. I needed them to see what it’s like to wait for days as doctors try to figure out what they’re going to do, which is very unlike the image we get from television that doctors are obsessed with just your case and is putting all of their resources towards you until they have an answer. There’s a lot of hurry up and wait in the world of dating someone with a chronic illness.

It’s hard, because in some ways it’s like leading the conversation with your inner monsters. You don’t get the option of hiding it, or waiting until something happens to reveal what makes you less than perfect. From the moment you spend more than a few minutes with me, my imperfection is brutally honest with you. It’s there, in a way I can’t lie about.

Am I lying? Man, I wish I were. I wish I had the luxury of making all this shit up, when in actuality I’m in great health and having a wonderful time day to day. I wish my life was full of all the things I wish I could have, the things I expected I would be doing at this age. I wish I could go out tonight to a bar, have a few drinks, hang out with my friends, and go dancing. I wish I could create a world where this wasn’t my day to day existence, believe me.

But I will always have detractors. I will always have people, for whatever reason, who feel the need to either highlight the honest imperfections I have (which I don’t mind so much), or make up shit to make me look bad (I mind a bit more). But in the end, the only weapon I have to win something like that is to keep on keepin’ on, living my life as honestly as I can, and prove them wrong by just being as open and honest as I can.

So in case you Googled “Is Del Tashlin lying?”, the answer is yes. Every day, Del Tashlin is downplaying how much pain he is in. He is pretending to be totally okay with all of his chronic health problems, and that his disability never depresses him or makes him angry. He lies to himself, all the time. But to you? That’s up to you to decide. Google won’t know the answer.


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This is a Sacred Space

April 20, 2013 at 8:21 am (Spiritual) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

I’ve been doing this balancing act for a few days now. I don’t feel comfortable sharing all the details of my medical situation on the Internet any more, not even here. That feeling defeats the purpose of having the blog to begin with. It’s all garbled up in my head and I am trying to tease it out into a long, single strand that makes sense all around.

When the Regretsians first found my blog and started making fun of me and the stuff I write (and the stuff I believe in), I was a little hurt. Eventually, I put on my big boy pants and fucking dealt with it. I posted to the forum and I addressed them here as well. The story ended very well; even though I don’t really read or post there anymore, I still go back and can always find some person I knew (oh so many years months ago).  It’s worth noting that Loki was proud of me, proud enough that He had me mark the occasion permanently.

There will always be people who will take whatever I write on my blog and use it for their personal enjoyment. I think it’s despicable and low to mine a blog about my medical condition and chronic illness for such things, but my opinion doesn’t count and I’m okay with that.

But there is real harm happening. There are people who subscribed to this blog because they really do want to know what’s going on with me, and I find myself hesitant to write about anything at all.

I prayed about it, and this is what I was Told: This blog is a sacred act. It was, is, and will be a sacrifice on Baphomet’s altar. She wants me to delve deep into the places that hurt, that are vulnerable and scary, and bring them to the fore. He thinks that my journey is important to others, not just because they care about me and want to know I’m okay, but many people read these words because it gives them comfort and insight into their own journey with chronic illness, disability, pain, and death. They need to know that their suffering matters, that their tiny prayers whispered from inside the MRI tube are being heard, that when they awake in the middle of the night because their pain is so bad they can’t move Someone is still there for them. It may not be Baphy, but it will be someone.

Baphomet also said that the sacrifice is only more blessed, bigger and better and more holy, when part of the sacrifice is continuing to post in the face of ridicule and humiliation.

This is a sacred place. This is a sacred place not because I say so, but because the Gods do. So this is the last time I will be addressing my fear of posting. This is a sacred place because the people who come here say it is so. If you wish to defile my sacred space, you act against the Gods and people who have worked to make it what it is today, and what it will be tomorrow.

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Own Your Own Happiness

March 19, 2013 at 12:00 pm (Living, Mental Health) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Your happiness relies on you. You rely on your happiness. It’s a reciprocal relationship, one where you feed into your happiness bank, and it pays you in dividends. When you are feeling less stressed, more relaxed, more focused, more satisfied with your life, it’s easier to achieve your goals, whatever they may be. If you don’t feed your happiness bank, your life becomes a constant struggle to find a moment of peace, and you get diverted from the things that you want to be doing, in an emergency-like feeling of desperately needing that release.

happiness piggy bank

The problems may start because the people in your life – your lovers, partners, friends, co-workers, clients, employees, etc – also somewhat rely on your happiness. When you’re not feeling sad or stressed, you’re easier to work with, more fun to be around, and more able to give and receive love without hesitation. So it’s in their best interest to try to make you happy, in whatever way they can intuit that. Because it’s hard to ask, and get an honest answer to, the question, “What would make you happier?” And even if you ask it, and get an honest answer, it may be hard to manifest exactly what that person needs.

We all want to nurture the people we care about. It’s an innate feeling, hard to fight. If they are physically harmed, we want to be there with band-aids and antibiotic cream. If they’re suffering from grief, we want to give them a shoulder to cry on and things to distract them. If they’re feeling unloved, we want to give them as much attention and affirmation as we can. And if we’re not careful, two very unhealthy and unfair things result from this.

The first is that we give so much that we aren’t feeding our own banks. Everyone has heard of burnout, but few people are savvy enough to recognize the beginning symptoms, so it gets discovered too late. We spend so much time feeding other people’s banks that we aren’t doing things that make us happy, or only make us happy as a side effect. Even if making other people happy feeds you in some way, if you aren’t getting anything in return – and it’s very hard for sad, depressed, angry, lonely, neglected-feeling people to give much, since they feel empty themselves – then you’re spending what little you have supporting others. This can work in short-term situations, like when your friend loses someone close to them, but in the long term it leads directly to burnout.

The other side of this, the more insidious and dangerous side, is that the other people comes to see you as their sole or primary provider of the happy. If they aren’t taught to find their own happiness, but instead are taught that complaining to others about their bad-feeling feelings results in getting time, attention, support, money, or whatever else makes them happy, they become mice in an experiment, pushing the “happy” button over and over again, addicted in a way, to whatever it is that others have done to make them feel better. They become resentful and angry when you can’t feed them as much as last time, or if you have other things to focus on, or even if you just need a break to refill your own ability to engage.

It’s a trap we all fall into. We see each other on both ends of the spectrum, the one burned out from trying to make everyone happy, and also desperately trying to milk whatever happiness we can get from those who support us. In this cycle, we totally forget that we are able to do both of these things on our own, and in the end, it’s a better and more reliable way to get what you need.

We all suffer

Think of it in terms of money, because it’s an apt analogy. If your friend is unemployed, and you give them enough money to live on (not just an emergency fund to pay a bill or keep them housed), eventually the motivation to get their own job and support themselves starts to evaporate. As you realize that you can’t keep it up long term, and you start to lessen or withdraw your financial support, the friend blames you for not being able to pay their bills, or to buy food. They can’t see past the fact that really, that responsibility was always on their shoulders, and they just chose to rely on someone else rather than their own ingenuity and self-worth to get it done. There’s nothing inherently wrong with taking a break from supporting yourself – whether financially, emotionally, or spiritually – as long as it’s a “break”, and not “a new reality”.

I heard somewhere recently that “depression is the grief that comes from the death of part of you”. That when you realize you have to make a big life change, where something you’ve relied upon for your strength, identity, or survival (or some combination thereof, like a marriage) is over; you go into a state of grief. Sometimes – oftentimes, mayhaps – this starts not when the change actually happens, but when you (consciously or subconsciously) realize that the change needs to happen. I had already phrased this differently, for my own life, as “depression is a sign that you’re afraid to change something.” So when I get sad, angry, lonely, frustrated, or depressed, I look around my life and start to sort out what change I’m resisting or running away from.

running away from home

What makes things difficult and complicated, is that sometimes – oftentimes, mayhaps – the gut reaction is to try to fix or change whatever is making you depressed, rather than facing what it really means. And this is where we start to look to others to feed us; instead of facing the fact that you’ve become radically insecure about your place in the world, and that you need to bone up and face that, work on it, change it into something better, you start to rely on your loved ones and family to make you feel more secure. Again, though, that’s something that’s best only done in an emergency-type situation – if it will keep you from, say, killing yourself or turning to self-harm (alcohol, drugs, cutting, indiscriminate sex, going into debt shopping, etc) – but it’s not the solution. It might feel like it, because in the short term you do actually feel better; but it’s only skin deep. You can’t keep burning people out in hopes that they will fill the hole in your heart; if you can look back and see a trail of dead relationships, well, you know what they say about seeing a problem happen over and over again – it means the problem is you.


But it’s sounds so easy on paper – make yourself happy. In reality, it’s hard work. Sometimes it sucks, especially in the beginning. You need to figure out what you’ve been doing that keeps you unhappy – staying in a bad relationship, giving too much of yourself away, not focusing on what makes you feel good, etc – and get it under control. That’s where most people resist the hardest – they don’t want to do it. They don’t want to break up a bad relationship, they feel like they can’t, for one reason or another. And we’re fucking talented at creating bullshit reasons why we can’t do something that will severely mess up the status quo. “But this job that pays me shit wages will lead to better things!” exclaims the person who doesn’t have enough money to pay the bills, “And it’s fun, and it doesn’t feel like work to me, and I like the people I work with, and I don’t want to have to take a job that isn’t fun or convenient. So I can’t do it.” Yes you can. It will suck, and you’ll be unhappier in the short term, but when you go to sleep at night knowing that your bills are paid, you have better health insurance, and you don’t have to sweat out the next car repair, you’ll thank yourself. Not only that, but you’ll appreciate the hard work and sacrifice that you made to get to where you are – believe me.

I have faced this sort of thing so many times in my life, I start to wonder if my diagnosis of “Major Depressive Disorder” (having many depressive episodes over a long period of time) isn’t a misdiagnosis of something more simpler – “Afraid of admitting you’ve made a mistake and don’t want step up and fix it.” I’ve made tons of mistakes in my life; maybe more than most people. I had a vision in my head of what I really wanted, but every time I got close to it, I started sacrificing things that were vitally important to my sense of self to attain and maintain it. I married Mike because I wanted something resembling a normal home life – I wanted a husband, and children, and I wanted to feel safe and comforted in that sort of arrangement. Even when it became clear that children weren’t going to just show up on their own, I still clung to this idea that he and I were a family, not a relationship, and you don’t break up with your family, right? So when he emotionally manipulated me, lied to me, cheated on me, lied to my friends, cheated on his other relationships, used money to control and manipulate me, and demanded that I keep up this appearance that everything was okay; I fell into it. I fell so deep that when it came to leaving him, I ended up waiting until he left. Yes, even after I called him on all the bullshit, I was willing to stay and work it out, because you don’t break up with your family. Even after we were separated, I tried to keep him involved in my life in some way, keep him in the role of being my family, and the more he rejected me, the worse I felt.

But anyone who’s been by my side while this has all been going on, can easily tell you that the separation has done miraculous things for me. It has freed me from all of the things Mike was afraid of, namely my transition, but a million other things, too. I was able to reclaim the course of my life, and took power in sitting down and figuring out what was really important to me, because I had learned the long, hard lesson that other people was the wrong answer. I truly believe that’s why Hel did two things in the course of my ordeal – one, she wouldn’t accept other people as a valid reason to allow me to continue living, and two, she declared that I could never make other people my main focus in life.

But things are getting dangerous in that realm of my life, because so many people are trying to get my focus. All of them seem to only want a part of it, but when you add it all together, I can point to many little issues in my life coming directly from this. I have insomnia because often it’s late at night when one or another one of my friends, lovers, clients, etc, think/know that I’m not actively working/writing/doing spirit work, etc (even though often they are very, very wrong) and so they pick 1am as a great time to process what’s going wrong with our relationship. (It doesn’t help that many of my friends/lovers/etc have jobs or lives that allow them to have these conversations at 1am, either.)

...and that has it's own effects on my health and well being.

…and that has it’s own effects on my health and well being.

I get frustrated at myself, because a terrible side effect of this is that even when a person only contacts me once, asking when they might get a piece of my time and attention, I overreact. I react with all the stress, frustration, and unhappiness that has built up from each one of these requests, and there have been many. I also feel like crap, because I should be overjoyed that so many people love me so much that they want my time and attention, and I sound like a privileged brat when I complain about it. “Oh, I’m too popular! I only wish more people didn’t give a shit about me! Woe is me!”, right? It also has the added detriment of making the people asking for my time – probably because they’re lonely, or sad, or depressed, or in some other way feeling negative about themselves or their life – feel even shittier, because I’m complaining about getting exactly what they wish for; people who want to spend time with me.

There have been warnings, too. I’ve had two very clear, verified by outside sources, knocks on the Del skull that other people are starting to take focus away from what the Gods want me to be doing; which right now, that means mostly writing, resting, and contemplation. All three of those things don’t seem like they are as important as spending time with people, nor do people tend to feel bad for interrupting such things. I was ranting the other day, when someone dared hint that maybe working on the book was really my problem, that if I had a regular 9 to 5 job, in an office somewhere, that was going through a crunch time (I have a deadline coming up that I have to meet if I want my first book to come out in June, which is very important to me emotionally as well as financially), no one would dare insinuate or state that I should just stop working and spend more time with my family/friends/lovers. Now yes, if someone was in “crunch time” for, say, a year, I could see advising them to not forget that life exists outside of work. But I only got the book deal three or four weeks ago, and the “request” of spending the year in contemplation three months ago, so it’s not like I’ve been in my hidey hole for too long. I also do go out, although mostly to events, but there’s a social element to those things and it means I’m not just spending my time in front of my computer, getting a severe lack of Vitamin D for lack of seeing the sun.

I even got some outside verification that this current frustration could be a test – whether or not I will bail on my promises to Hel at the first opportunity, and make other people a priority, rather than manage to set clear and unbending boundaries around what Hel and I both want out of what time I have left. It’s not like either of us didn’t expect this; I spent much of 2012 spending time with people, making them my focus, and so like the friend who starts expecting you to pay their bills, I’ve made many people accustomed to getting my time and attention fairly easily.

The deeper lesson here, as I am beginning to realize, is this “happiness bank” analogy. I have a lifelong (even in my childhood) issue of being so afraid of not being liked, of being alone, of not having any friends or lovers, that I go way further than most to make my people happy. I mean, again, look at my last marriage; I stopped myself from doing things I really wanted to, to keep Mike happy. I wanted to change my last name. I wanted to bottom more often. I wanted to start taking testosterone. I wanted to buy more men’s clothing. I wanted to keep my hair short/shaved. I wanted to date other people. These, and so many other things, I deprived myself of because it might make Mike feel the least bit uncomfortable. He was so used to me doing these things, he didn’t even see them. And when I brought them to light, he would blame me for doing these things without being asked. That’s true. He never outright said, “Never bottom in public, it really upsets me and reminds me that you don’t bottom to me anymore.” What he did, was get very sad and withdrawn when I bottomed to someone else. I didn’t like seeing him like that, and didn’t like being around him. Easy answer, right? I fed his happiness bank with a little of my own; I gave up bottoming in public so he would feel better.

But where I seem to be failing in this lesson is that when I take a step back, and try to illustrate to my people (my shorthand for “friends, family, lovers, clients, etc”) that I need them to start feeding their own happiness bank, and stop expecting my weekly direct deposits, they feel like I’m doing something directly to hurt them, or am being mean to them. It feels hurtful for me to ask them to be responsible for their own sense of peace, because I’m taking something away from them. It is hard to stay resolute in that, and stand by my own boundaries, even with the God-threat of losing all of my relationships over my shoulder the whole time, because like every other human, when I see people in pain I want to make them feel better.

I can’t. My happiness bank is currently overdrawn, and I have to fix it now.

What everyone's happiness bank should look like!

What everyone’s happiness bank should look like!

It starts with the most direct and dire situation – I need time to write, edit, re write, and produce the book. It’s not an exercise in ego, this project; it’s a direct line to making more money. I don’t want to get into numbers, but let’s say my alimony is barely enough (and sometimes frankly, not enough) to keep living life the way I have been living it. Events think I’m getting big in my britches when I tell them I can’t afford to pay for my own hotel, but really, it’s because I’m living on about an eighth of the resources I had a year ago. This weekend, I attended an excellent workshop on how to make more money as a presenter, especially how to do it without just demanding that events give you more in terms of compensation, and it wouldn’t be terribly hard to do some of those things. Of course, however, that they require my time and attention. This book is only one step in that direction – of being able to continue doing pastoral care counseling, teaching classes, writing blogs, facilitating ordeals, mentoring, etc – and not charge an arm and a leg to do it. It would be easier on me, and on the world at large, if I can ask many people to give me small amounts of money (paying for a download, buying a book, getting a reading) than it would be to only require my clients to pay me larger amounts of money in order to survive. I can help so many more people if I distribute my financial need among all the people I’ve touched with my words, my actions, my rituals, my classes, etc.

But I need the time, energy, spoons, to set these things up. That’s, understandably, have to come from somewhere.

Like many people who have found themselves in this situation, when I talk to people about this, they’re completely understanding – as long as that time, energy, attention, spoons, etc, doesn’t affect them. Like I have this secret cache of people to whom it’s much easier for me to say “fuck off, I need to do this other stuff.” Clients think I should tell my friends to fuck off. My friends think I should tell events to fuck off. Events think I should tell my lovers to fuck off. My lovers think I should tell everybody else to fuck off. And my Gods?

There’s that scary threat. That I’ll lose it all if I don’t do the Work. And like any good submissive, the prime directive is “take care of the property”, in this case, my life and ability to live.

So instead of writing sixty different emails to people about feeding their own happiness banks, I wanted to write a blog post that might help even more people. Maybe you need to feed your own bank. Maybe you’re burnt out from feeding other people’s banks. Maybe you’re suffering from depression because you’re afraid of the piece of you that has to die in order to make a change.

First of all, this is a universal experience. Every single human being experiences all of these feelings, at different points in their lives. Some people have it harder, especially if they have biochemical predispositions for feeling depressed, insecure, out of control, or in some other way not able to rely solely upon themselves for their own happiness. It is important to reach out to someone who gets paid to help you with that, though – because that’s the reciprocity. That’s why a therapist is better than relying on all your friends; the money makes it worth their time, and they can feed their kids and pay their bills at the end of it. (This weekend, I learned about the “resentment fee”, that is, how much money will it take so I don’t resent you for asking me to do this thing for you? It’s a useful tool for entrepreneurs who are trying to figure out how to price their services.) So if you are scared of the prospect of feeding your own happiness bank, especially if the need feels too great, it might be a good idea to seek out a therapist or other professional to get you on the right path.

Secondly, you need to know what makes you happy, and learn how to achieve those things without anyone else’s assistance. And before you tell me that “being around other people” is one of those things, you can go to a concert. Join a book club. Go to a bar. Throw a party. Do things where you create and control the situation, rather than relying on others. As I recently said, it’s so much nicer and easier for me to make time for other people if I don’t also have to invent the fun thing we’re going to go do. If you ask me out to a dinner and a movie, and you pick the restaurant and the film, I’m so much more likely to feel enthusiastic and willing to futz with my calendar to go; whereas if you just whine “I want more of your time!”, thus dumping the responsibility of finding said time, and then filling it with something more than just staring at each other, which makes it feel onerous and work-like.


Take control! Make things that make you happy manifest. Throw your own party, instead of waiting to be invited to one! Go out and meet people, rather than expect your friends to invite you to places where potential new people might be. Put on your big kid pants and if you have to fake the confidence, the self-esteem, the security in your self, your attractiveness, do it. Practice little steps, if you have to. But I promise you, when you feel more in control of our own happiness, you’ll have more love and devotion to pour onto those around you, rather than sucking them dry of theirs.

So if you’re burned out? Say so. Don’t lay the blame at the people who have burned you out, because you chose to feed them as much as you have. It may be difficult to wean them, but in the end it will be worth it. Please remember that taking time for yourself, and solitary activities, is not self-indulgent. It is fucking necessary in order to be healthy and peaceful enough to engage with others without a bad attitude. Read books. Watch documentaries. Write a shitty novel (or a great one, whatever, just don’t pressure yourself about whether it’s good or not), it’s the doing, not the result! Take up a solo hobby by watching videos on You Tube. Make “office hours” – days of the week, hours of the day, that you respond to emails from friends, or take phone calls from them, or in other ways give to others – and make them public if you have to, so people know when you’re willing to engage, and when you’re busy taking care of yourself.

You can do it!

You can do it!

Don’t be afraid to unplug. Many of my friends have been reveling in the feeling of turning off their phones, disengaging from the Internet, not watching television, and then figuring out what to do with their time. We let so many things suck us in, distract us from the real flow of our lives, that sometimes we stop living. Mike was infamous for his “clicky games”, spending hours playing Farmville and online poker, and then complained that I didn’t spend enough time and attention with him. I understand the need for these things to help you relax, but honestly, I find they are usually just as stressful as they are relaxing. Maybe promise yourself two hours a week – a week – where you turn off your phone and disengage from the computer. Tell people if you have to, but sometimes it’s better when you don’t.

Remember that in our age of everything-on-demand, that you don’t owe anyone an immediate response. No matter if they call you, text you, email you, send you a chat, a message on social media, a comment on your blog, whatever; you have never made a promise to respond in a certain amount of time. Teach your friends by example that they shouldn’t expect you to be available to them at every hour of every day. If they complain, ask them what they expect in terms of response time, and then respond with something reasonable, taking the rest of your life into consideration. I had to make the decision that no one – not my mother, not my lovers, nobody – is owed immediate responses. If it’s an emergency, they’ll tell me so, and then I can decide if I can engage with their emergency or not. They have other people they can turn to, and if they don’t, that’s on them.

In the reverse, there’s nothing nicer than getting a message from someone that explicitly says that no response is necessary, or expected, or that I can get to it whenever I have the time. (Just, be truthful about this; if you know you’ll get pissed if you don’t get a response in two months, don’t say you don’t care at all.) So when you send someone something that requires a response, let them know they can take their time with it. After all, I’d much rather receive an answer when my friend is calm, collected, relaxed, and has time to spend on it, rather than a dashed-off, two word response that makes me feel disregarded and bothersome. Decide that quality is more important than quantity, and that you’d rather have a single email a month that was chock full of attention to detail, and interesting information, than six emails a day that are written while they’re simultaneously doing four other things.

short reply

If you’re in a relationship, be brutally honest about how much time you need from another person to feel engaged with them. Even if you’re afraid they’ll tell you they can’t meet it, it’s better to not be in a relationship where you feel hungry all the time, than to be in one where your partner is constantly feeling like they are neglecting you. It creates this terrible loop where no one is happy. And if the person you want can’t give you what you need, you have a decision to make. If you can get supplemental happiness from other sources (namely, yourself, but also other people, things, hobbies, etc), then know that you’ll be expected to feed yourself from those things in perpetuity while the relationship is happening. If you can’t, then no matter how sexy, charming, interesting, or stellar-in-bed they are, you’ll both feel crappy all the time, and it’s better off not to engage. If you’re already in the relationship and realizing that you have vastly different expectations in terms of time and attention, you have to be radically honest with yourself about whether or not you can live what what they give, and if you can’t, then you need to “take care of the property” and walk. Not every break up is about the lack of love or desire; sometimes, incompatibility is more than just liking different kinds of movies or having different hobbies; it can also mean that what you envision a “relationship” as, and what they envision, are too different, and neither of you will be happy. Fuck, read 50 Shades of Gray if you want a good example of what that kind of relationship looks like.

50 shades sucks

Beware of emotional manipulation. It can be really subtle, and most of the time, the person doing it isn’t even aware of it. But a statement like, “Oh, I really want to go with you on the cruise, and I think it would be good for our relationship, but alas, I don’t have the money…if only I could find some…” may sound like an honest statement about one’s financial situation, but it can also be a form of manipulation – implying that if the person wanted good things for the relationship, they’d happily pay your way on the cruise. But that way lies dragons, my friends. Big, ugly, nasty ones that I’ve fought time and time again. It starts out small, but once someone realizes it works, they will continue to do it. Model good behavior by stating your needs and wants in direct statements, rather than wishy-washy emotional ones. “That cruise sounds like fun, but I don’t have the money. Is it possible for you to pay my way?” I had an ex who would come over to hang out, but every time we left the house to do stuff, they wouldn’t tell me they didn’t have their own money until we were there. I remember standing outside of a nightclub, her having gotten all dressed up, driving over there, and only letting us know that she didn’t have the cover until we were on our way inside. It worked, though – for years, we paid her way into everything. I had another ex who, instead of telling us she didn’t have money for food, would just choose not to eat, and make a big dramatic show of it. But it worked; we paid for her food more often than not.

But what did those people also do? They also became exes. Because over time, they kept taking without giving. It’s okay if you don’t have the money once in a while, or if you’re up front when you’re invited – “I’d love to go, but I don’t have the money.” or “I’m coming for a few days, but I need to watch my budget when it comes to ordering food.”

The same goes from time, attention, emotional energy. It’s easy to give time to someone when you don’t have a lot going on. If you are asking me to give up time I need to be working on the book; then when I ask you for time during finals week, you better be ready to give it back. If you know you can’t afford to make that sort of sacrifice, then don’t ask someone else to do it for you.


It’s not like you need to keep a tally of who did what for whom when. It’s more of a feeling. You should feel like spending time with your people is a fun, happy, feeding you sort of thing. It’s okay if once in a while, you decide to spend time with someone else because it makes them happy, even if it’s a little inconvenient for you. But if you see your friend calling, and always press “ignore” because you know phone calls with them inevitably last three hours; if you turn down invitations to things you enjoy because someone will be there who will monopolize your time; if you feel guilty posting about a fun night out with a friend because you know you’ll get five nasty emails asking why you had time for that but not for them; it’s time to take a step back and figure out where the problem(s) are.

At the core of it all, though, the one thing you have completely and utterly within your own control, is your own happiness. If you catch yourself thinking, “If so-and-so would only do things differently, I would be happy”, you need to take a moment and rephrase that. “Why is so-and-so doing things that way, and do I necessarily need to engage with them while they do it?” is a start. But really, the better questions are things like, “Okay, regardless of what my calendar says, what would make me happy this weekend?” “Instead of sitting at home, moping about having nothing to do and no one to do it with, I can be researching groups in my area that do stuff I like, or find a party to attend, or call up some friends I haven’t spoken to in a while.” Ask yourself, “What can I do, all by myself, to make this situation better?” If the answer feels difficult, or emotionally challenging, know that you’ve hit a much deeper hole, and it may take some time and attention to fill it, but you can. In a way, you have to. Because if you aren’t the arbiter of your own happiness, then you’re surrendering a level of control over your life; and you’ll still only have yourself to blame if it isn’t making you happy.

Do it. Make a list, right now, either in the comments, on your own blog, on your Facebook/Twitter/Tumblr, or even just on a piece of paper – five things. Five things that would make your life a little happier. A little less stressful. A little more carefree. And it’s okay if these things aren’t inherently fun in and of themselves – “saving up enough money to pay off the car note” doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, but if not having to worry about getting repossessed will make your life happier, then it’s still worth listing.

Then, hold yourself accountable. Each day, ask yourself what you’ve done to make one of those five things come to fruition. You don’t have to do them all in a day, and I’m sure many of them are actually made up of several microsteps of their own. “I brought leftovers to work for lunch, rather than ordering out, and took that $20 and put it in the ‘pay the car note’ fund.”

..and we all know how I feel about awesome metal lunchboxes, right?

..and we all know how I feel about awesome metal lunchboxes, right?

You, my readers, know that ordinarily, I’d post my own as an example. But in this case, some of them are involve other people, and I don’t feel comfortable posting that. But know that I have my own list, and I’m doing this too. And I welcome emails or messages about this exercise, as long as you understand that until my writing deadline is met, I have a limited amount of time I can spend on email (#3 on my list).

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I Want It As Much As You Do

January 18, 2013 at 12:15 am (Death and Dying, Living, The Panniculectomy) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

I get the gentle reminders, the emails, the comments in conversation. I hear them and I feel kinda guilty. I sit in front of my keyboard, the ragged notes hastily jotted down in the ICU by my side, and I try to describe the experience I had in the Underworld on December 28th.

Part of the problem is that I’m still remembering, bits and pieces hit me at the oddest times. I’ll be drifting off in thought and then another memory, in full technicolor, will hit me, one that I haven’t had before. I try to write it all down, try to make it fit into clunky, odd looking words, for myself if for nothing else.

The first challenge, I recently figured out with help from my friend Hugh (a wonderful writer and poet in his own right) is that there is no narrative to my experience. I cannot draw a timeline in which things happened in a precise order. I can try to force the images, the blocks, the pieces of patchwork into some sort of made up fictional narrative, but it doesn’t seem to want to be locked down like that. How does one tell a story without the sense of linear time?

Secondly, as I’ve said before, parts of it are deeply personal. It would take me more paragraphs to explain some of the symbols and images I saw, because you don’t live in my head, know my entire life story, or have the same reaction to certain archetypes/images/thoughts/feelings as I. It don’t know if the story wants to be weighed down in lots of explanations and footnotes, because it loses something in the process.

I don’t feel ready. One of the bigger messages I got is that this is a year of contemplation, and it may be that I’m supposed to go over these notes, try to recreate all the little scenes and memories over a much longer period of time. I am pretty certain some things that I remember will only make sense once I’ve had a chance to go a little further in this journey, like when an author drops a seemingly random piece of information about a character in chapter 2, never mentions it again, and yet it’s that tiny little factoid that solves the whole plot. In some ways, part of me is still down there, sitting on a rock having a big think, hoping that if I give it more time to marinate, it will make better sense to me.

I feel like I owe you a story, something, some piece of wisdom that came from my experience. So here’s something I feel like I can talk about, but ask me any questions and I’m likely to crumble.

Everything is a choice, she whispers. So many people, especially those ‘spirit worker’ friends of yours, makes everything in their life out to be an absolute, it must be this way, the Gods told me so. They speak of it as though this life was thrust upon them and now they’re just following orders. You can always say no. You can always walk away. At any point in time, if you are doing something, anything, and someone asks you why you are doing it, you should be able to tell them about your choice. Not all choices are fabulous and wonderful; sometimes the right or best choice is the drudgery and the discomfort. But it’s still a choice, still something that you made a conscious decision to do. Every single day, you choose to go to work, because you think if you don’t you’ll lose your job and go broke and be homeless and eventually die of starvation. You create this future in your head where the only right answer is the one you’ve chosen, and every other option ends in ruin. But how do you know that if you take today off, you might just run into someone at the Starbucks who’s looking for a new such-and-so, making twice as much money as you’re making now, in a part of the country you’ve always dreamed of living in?

Don’t get me wrong; there are wrong choices. Or at least, choices that have outcomes that are uncomfortable, and steer you away from your Purpose. But even if you’re going to make a wrong choice, you need to do it with an open heart, knowing that part of being alive is that you have complete autonomy over what your body does and does not do. You might have to make accommodations for things like disability and disease, but if you want to sleep 18 hours a day, you can make that choice. If you never want to see the sun again, you can get a graveyard shift job and only shop at 24 hour grocery stores at 4am. Nothing about your life is written in stone – not even what the Gods want you to do. We understand that you always have the right to say no, to choose something else, and then it’s our job to meddle and push and try to convince you to make a different choice, but there are plenty of people we approach for one reason or another who just ignore us, convince themselves we’re just a manifestation of mental illness, or purposefully choose to do something else because who wants to be in truck with an Invisible thing that might tell you what to eat, what to wear, what job to take…it feels like you’re surrendering that choice when you take on the yoke of working for us, but even in that we know, and honor, and are appreciative of, the choices you make that benefit us.

People say they can’t meditate, and you know the truth – it’s more that they cannot find a way to choose to meditate. It’s not like it’s a terribly difficult skill, and it’s easy to get better over time, but it means making that choice, every day, to set aside time to do it. People do this about prayer, about going to rituals, about celebrating their faith – they think that spirituality is a frivolous task, only to be undertaken by force, habit, or boredom. The reason we keep reaching out to people like you, Del, is because you can be living proof that choosing a life that puts spirituality at the top of the priority chain can still be a full and enjoyable life. So when you get together with your friends and gripe about what the Gods ask you to do, you’re working against this very simple Purpose.

This transitioned into talk about my friend Jon, who factored heavily into my experience with Hel, and I’m not ready to talk about that yet.

I want to share it with you. And I will. Over time. In pieces. As I get to better understand them, and glean what needs to be shared from what should remain personal. I am honored that you’re interested in what happened, that you don’t just dismiss the idea that something significant happened to me that day, but I need more time to write it out.

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He’ll Look Around the Room; He Won’t Tell You His Plan

January 1, 2013 at 1:59 am (Hospitalizations, Living, Living With Chronic Illness, Medical, Spiritual, The Journey Towards Diagnosis, The Panniculectomy) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Maybe it’s all the opiates, but I keep wanting to say something profound about how this year was full of upheavals for me and sound all poetic and mystical and intelligent. But really, I think it would just be rehashing stuff I’ve already said and done, and after surviving my ordeal I have very little desire to look backwards anymore – at least for now. I am choosing to look towards potentiality, towards the empty status update box, the (mostly) empty Google calendar, the blinking cursor at the beginning of the open Word document, and taking a nice deep breath.

A lot of my recent Underworld journey* put my feet on a very specific path, and the first step, 2013, is about being a year of contemplation – and really, things have all fell in line to make that very easy. I’m moving into a house where I will need much less help taking care of myself; both in that it is all on one floor and therefore I can make my own food, do my own laundry, and the like, but also because I will be living with my full time slave who receives such joy in her service. (And boy howdy does it make a difference when someone who you rely on for assistance does these things with an open and happy heart, rather than a resentful and lazy one.) I have much less teaching commitments, and I’m not really planning on chasing down more. (My plan is to submit to events I’ve never taught at before, just to see what’s out there, and possibly choose to ::gasp:: attend a few new things, too.) I have enough money to pay my bills and just a little extra to have a nice day now and again. I have the ability to focus on doing a little more work from home when I need more scratch, and a little less when I don’t.

Except for the all the follow up doctor’s appointments and the regular medical merry-go-round, I really don’t have a lot of reasons I have to leave the house. I mean, I love my friends and will want to see them from time to time, but there’s something to be said for the fact that we looked really hard to find something in the much more accessible city of Frederick, only to end up in the much more out-of-the-way city of Hagerstown. A casual trip to Baltimore or DC would be much more of a drive now than it was before, and we really only have a handful of friends who live less than 30 minutes away from H’town. On top of that, we found a tiny little complex that’s mostly meant for senior citizens (who were cool with us moving in when they found out I was disabled), so I expect our neighborhood to be quiet and respectful as well.

After the crazypants monkeyhorseplay that was 2012, the idea of spending a year in sacred contemplation sounds absolutely, well, divine to me. I know it scares some of my closer friends and lovers, because I do have a tendency to cocoon away from the world and not notice how long I’ve been gone until someone comes in and pulls me back out again. But I will have to find a balance, because I need this time of quiet, stress-free thinking and feeling if I am going to truly figure out what happened to me on Dec 28th.

I know many people are waiting with somewhat baited breath to hear about what happened to me and why it was decided that I was to return to the land of the living, but unfortunately it’s going to take me some time to piece it all together. Instead of something like having a dream, or even a living/waking experience, it was more like I came to in ICU with a head full of foggy memories that weren’t there before, even though I didn’t have the physical connection to those memories. I am fumbling at words here, and most of the examples or metaphors I would use might only serve to confuse the matter. For those of you who have had ecstatic trance experiences, or dissociative episodes, or perhaps even possessory experiences when you were the seat/horse, it kinda felt like that – like you’ve come back to your body, and you know it’s seen and done things that your consciousness wasn’t present for, but every so often something triggers a memory, a foreign thought, that feeling of being right on the tip of your tongue but not quite there.

Luckily, Rave was at my bedside and ready to jot down notes of the things I remembered in the immediate hereafter, when I was still in ICU and hadn’t yet fully realized what my brush with death was. I just had all these memories that both did and did not feel like they belonged to me. Like I said earlier, I’m grasping at words and failing quite a bit.

Over the next few days, I did some talking to various mystical types who were able to just listen to what I had to say and give their insight when they had any. I know when I get to the new place and set up my altar, some of the images will coalesce. When I get time to journal freely, and to get back into a meditative practice, and do all the shaman/spirit worker type things I have been putting off for a while now, it will all come into view.

So for now, I leave you with two thoughts based on my Journey:

1. Everything you do is a choice. You may feel like you have no say, like it’s the proper thing to do, that it is required of you, but in the end, the only things you have to do is “stay black and die!” (-Joe Clark, Lean on Me) That is, everything that is outside of your autonomic system is a choice. Spend a day being conscious of all your choices, every one. Do you always drink coffee that way, only because it was the way your mom drank coffee and so that made sense to you? Do you have to be someone’s girlfriend just because you slept with them last night? Do you know why you chose not to shower today, why you put your hair up, why you were mean to your coworker? Think about it, and become painfully aware of every single choice you make, and wonder what would happen if you fell out of step, made a different choice, went in a completely different direction?

2. Every time I go into surgery, I get a song stuck in my head. I have no idea why this was the song of my panniculectomy, but it was also heavily used as the background music for my Ordeal. It is “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster the People. It is about school shootings, so that you’re trigger warning.

I like this second version a little better; and yes, I first heard this song on The Voice. Sue me.


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Hopped Up on the Goofballs

December 30, 2012 at 2:15 am (Hospitalizations, Medical, The Panniculectomy) (, , , , , )

I am, as my friend Stephanie would say, hopped up on the goofballs. That is, I am on high amounts of dilaudid through a PCA pump.

Yes, this means I made it through the surgery. However, there was a scary moment, just like I predicted, where I needed to go on a respirator. My uvula has been so swollen since the surgery that I keep thinking it’s a loogey I should spit up. (I know you were dying to know that.) I also awoke with deep and abiding memories of having spoken to Hel, the Norse Goddess of the Underworldd (as I expected to) as well as my friend Jon, who died earlier this year (which I did not expect to). I was lucky that Rave was able to write down my babbling so I have more than my swiss cheese memory to rely on. It was very intense and maybe once I’m on less goofballs and in less pain I might relate some of it to you.

I have lost a significant portion of my pannus – it’s kinda freaky – 30 or so pounds gone. My belly no longer hangs over my thighs at all, and instead I kinda look like a dude with a beer gut. It turns out that the larger abscess, the one they’ve been draining all this time, was so big it went all the way back to the abdominal wall; so they had to cut that deep in order to remove that, along with tons of infected and dead tissue.

I’m in a lot of pain – like, probably the worst pain I’ve ever had, postoperatively. I was in ICU for about 12 hours, and one of my memories was them asking me to roll on my side and me actively trying to find the words, at full volume, to let them know that not only did it hurt, but that I no longer consented. You know, a safeword of some sort. But now I’m able to get up and shuffle around with the assistance of a walker and one or two other people to wrangle all the tubes and wires attached to me. I have a “vacu-bandage” of some sort, that is both sucking all the fluid out of my wound, but is also holding my new improved belly in place so it heals without drooping.

That’s all for now. I just wanted to let you all know in blogland that I survived, I had a very intense Underworld experience, and I am on the path towards healing.

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Remote Support for Surgery: Part II

December 27, 2012 at 12:12 pm (Death and Dying, Living, Spiritual, The Panniculectomy) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

This is for people who are more inclined to working with Deities and spirits rather than physical healing.

Here is the core of the visualization, written by my friend Hugh:

to convince Her that Del can, will, and should be healed and strengthened in body and in spirit by this process (making him more useful to Her on both sides of the veil), and that his work while embodied has been valuable and effective, and will be supported by his tribe. This is something to be laser-clear on, and should hover over/pervade everything.

1. Ground, center, create sacred space. Do whatever you do to get into a prepared and safe space for working.

2.Visualize the lock and hold the image in your mind throughout the working. I’ve put the pic up on Flickr for reference: I will have the physical lock with me. Start the chant I came up with earlier and keep it going through the working if possible:

This is the lock and Del is the key
Safe is what we need him to be
Safe return to flesh and bone
Safe return to hearth and home
We need his work, we need his art
We give him aid from hand and heart

3.Respectfully address/invoke Hel.

4.Visualize the rune Ehwaz and the journey that Del has taken and is taking (both spiritual and health-wise).

5.Visualize the rune Ansuz and the ordeal/trial that Del faces.

6.Visualize the rune Sowilo and the valuable and powerful things that Del can do only if he is incarnate in a physical body. If he’s done such things for you or friends/loved ones/etc. in the past, that’s good to include.

7.Visualize the rune Fehu and what you are willing to do to support Del’s Work; how you will help Del to want to keep living and do the Work in spite of everything.

8.Cycle back to step 2 as many times as needed.

9.Thank Hel for Her time and attention; release sacred space and ground and center again. Do whatever you need to do to come back safely.

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Assaulted by Gratitude

November 29, 2012 at 2:44 am (Living, Spiritual) (, , , , , , , , , )

I tend to be a pretty misanthropic person. I’m incredibly jaded when it comes to the sweetness of humanity, and in my work as a shaman and an ordeal worker, I tend to see the parts of people that don’t really emphasize their, uh, better qualities. I’ve also been through a lot of experiences, especially recently, that could easily make me give up on other humans and go live as a crazy cat gentleman somewhere in the midwest. I’ve been attacked, both physically and emotionally, just for daring to be true to myself and to express that to the world. I’ve had places I thought to be safe and accepting, turn out to be viper’s dens of backbiting and lack of consideration for those who are hurt or outcast by their thoughts and actions.

In short, life has given me every reason to sit on my front lawn and shake my cane at the youngin’s.

And yet.

Every day this week, there have been deliveries from Amazon. Today there were five packages in a neat little stack on my porch. I get updates from Rave about how generous my friends have been, individually and communally, in response to my request for aid. People have shown such kindness and willingness to be of assistance in ways I would never have dreamed. I think when Rave saw the initial numbers on WePay, she almost passed out.

I was struck with this feeling. It feels foreign to me, this odd sense of a weight being lifted off my chest, of feeling like things are going to be okay, even if just for a minute or two. That if I was every stranded at Tijuana at 3am, I could find someone who would pick my broken ass up and take me home. I was literally assaulted by gratitude.

I almost feel like there’s really no way to express this immense sense of connection, of thankfulness, of reassurance; if you’ve ever been through a divorce, you know that there is this very normal period of feeling like not only are you no longer loved by the person you thought loved you unconditionally, but as your friends all take a step back and try to figure out their own responses to what happened, you can feel kinda abandoned. I know this feeling well, as unfortunately this is the third time I’ve been in such a situation. (I’ve only been married twice, but in between I had a long term relationship that might as well been spousal, that also ended abruptly by me being dumped.)

It was hard for a while there. I honestly didn’t know who I could trust. I reached out to someone, just to talk, only to get a whip-fast response that they were not interested in hearing negative things about my spouse or his new poly family, and if that’s what I wanted I could take it elsewhere. I don’t know how to explain to them, or anyone else, that it’s basically impossible for me to discuss the separation without speaking my truth, and obviously that truth includes negative things about my spouse, because if there was nothing negative to say, the divorce would be a somewhat random event, no?

And so I circled the wagons. I only really spoke to those closest to me, the ones I knew had my back no matter what. I didn’t reach out much beyond this safe space. It didn’t help that the STBX was repeatedly telling me that we had shared friends who were telling him what an awful, terrible person I was and how wonderful it was he was rid of me. I had no idea who these “friends” were, so I couldn’t tempt fate by accidentally taking one of them into my trust.

I am also not one who easily asks for help. Ask Rave. I can be downright annoying, trying for ten minutes to do something she can do in less than one, but goddammit I want to do it for myself. Sometimes that’s important, and absolutely the right thing, but sometimes it can be almost ridiculous. Watch me try to propel my current wheelchair – it’s a great visual example – the one I have is not meant to be self-propelled at all. And yet, I will frequently bat her away and try to do it myself, only getting a few feet before I give in and let her push. I know this, and yet I keep doing it over and over again.

I didn’t want to ask. I was terrified of checking the website and seeing nothing. Proof that my deepest fears were true, that I didn’t have anyone I could count on beyond my tightest circle of family-of-choice. But I got to the place where I didn’t have a choice – there was just no way we could do the things we needed to do without help.

And the help, she poured in. Not only were we shocked by how much, but from whom. People I haven’t seen in person for years, sending gifts of love. People who have very little of their own, giving a portion of what they do have. Volunteers coming out of the woodwork to take on tasks or projects, like moving my piano so I don’t have to hire professionals, or finding a masseuse to donate a massage to me because it would help. People I don’t think I’ve ever had a real, significant, out-of-LARP-character conversation with. People I don’t even know their real names. People who have already done so much. People I haven’t ever met. People’s mothers and sisters and friends. People I’ve only corresponded with on the Internet. People who read my blog. People who heard about the situation from someone else and decided they wanted to help. People we don’t even know who, because the gifts came with no indication of their sender.

And it’s timely. I am holding onto this surge of love, of support, of caring, as I prepare for my surgery. I know not everyone can be there in person, but I consider every single person who has come to our aid to be there in spirit, one way or the other. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to march forward, face what the future holds.

There is still time. There is, unfortunately, still need. Although we have seen an outpouring that we never expected, we still have needs that have not been met. We need to locate a place to live, and have enough money to pay first/last/security. We still need lots of wound care supplies for when I come home. We still need a little more to help out our friends who want to come visit, and need gas money or airfare in order to do so. We, by no means, are asking for more than you can give, but maybe you can send out a message to your friends? A tweet, a status update, an email to those you know with an open heart?

But for now, I am grateful. More grateful than I thought possible. I’m sitting here wearing a shirt, pants, underwear that were all gifts. I smell of lotion that was a gift. I’m drinking tea that was a gift. I’m about to lay down and go to sleep with a pillow that was a gift. I am blessed. Everything I use or touch or see that came in because of our clarion call, is a reminder of that blessing.

And it drives me to get well as best I can, so I can get back into my community and do more good works. Help more people with their spiritual woes. Write more meaningful blog posts. Do more volunteer work. Do more to make my Gods happy, to fulfill my Purpose-with-a-big-P, to bring happiness and peace to everyone I touch, one way or the other.

I am blessed.

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