Playing with fire

The dark passenger is back. The persistent backseat driver has moved to the front seat, tired of whispering in my ear, of looking over my shoulder while I ignore her. She is right here with me now, taunting me, tempting me.

I am playing with fire, flirting with darkness. I know that. But so far, I am in control. Or am I? How do ever truly I know whether I do something because I want to, or want to do it because it lessens that constant, nagging anxiety? And I am aware of my addiction to this, to these things. I know I will want more, I know how quickly it can reach a level of almost obsessive-compulsiveness, I know all of this.

And yet, I'm playing with fire. Telling myself that this time is different. This time I will remain in control. Maybe I'll prove myself right, maybe I won't. At this point, I don't know. Will it escalate or stop? Will I escalate or stop? But I will not cut my arms open, no matter how much I may want to, in the spur of the moment. That would just be too hard to hide. So I remain in control.

How did it start, again? Gradually sinking lower into depression, and then, mounting anxiety, even panic attacks. As I realised that I am not entirely depressed, that I could see much clearer what was me and what was, is, the illness, the depression, it was as if it changed. Granted, I am still depressed, suffering from painfully low self esteem, lack of initiative, lack of energy; I have lost my appetite, I cry easily, and I want to harm myself – but at the same time, I am happy and positive. Being able to see (feel) this means that I am not the depression, I am not the anxiety. I suffer from depression and anxiety, but it is not who I am.

Unfortunately, the panic attacks, being all tensed up and struggling to catch my breath, is pretty draining. And it affects my dance. I hate it, but am realising that I don't let it control my life; I try to lead a normalish life. I go out, I meet people, I work. When I take on my professional role, no one will ever notice what's going on. My friends, my Sisters, they see more. They feel me vibrating, physically, emotionally, mentally. But this is my transformation to go through, the fragile shell I feel around me is what remains of my walls, and because it is so thin, I have to protect myself. I don't let many people in. I can't. I won't. But every breath I take is a victory, every morning I wake up stronger, closer to breaking through the shell and spreading my wings in freedom, beauty and power.

I just pray that things don't go too far before then, and that the breakthrough isn't a breakdown. I am worried, and a bit afraid. Because I do want to harm myself – not seriously, just a little. And I have lost a bit of weight because of having no appetite and sometimes being too tired to force myself to eat, and even though I doubt I've lost that much, I am afraid that I might cross a line when I step through the mirror. I already have more thoughts of consciously making myself lose more weight, dieting, using these diet supplements. I register those thoughts, but I don't act on them. I just find myself reading the labels, comparing the nutritional contents, checking prices. It's a good thing they are expensive and I am way too smart to fool myself. I don't need to lose weight and I have no intention of doing so. Part of me wants to, but I won't.

Even so, I know that if I keep losing weight, it will be harder to resist as the dark passenger grows louder and stronger. So I pray that I will get an psych appointment soon and that I will keep making myself eat. More. I am not going back into the mirror! I am not making that particular journey again.

I know it's stupid of me to play with fire, but really, I don't know how not to. Even with the panic attacks that make me in a way worse off than I've ever been, and the incredible fatigue, depression etc, things are a million, billion, zillion times better that they used to be. I will get through this.

Darling Sister

Darling Sister,
How did you become so wise?

With you, it's so easy to be myself
You expect nothing else
Not more
Not less
You don't judge, you don't scowl
You accept
You empower me
You support me
At times at a distance, other times here and now

Our paths have met and parted and met again
Together since before the dawn of time
Then separated, each on her path
Alone we have learned about Life
Alone we have grown in strength
So, too, this time
But we met again

You understand more than I can explain
You hear the things I don't say
See the things I don't reveal
You do what I do: You feel it
And day by day you teach me
To trust my emotions and my intuition
Like you can trust yours

You make it easy to speak the hardest things
I always feel that I say too much
That I am being too open
But you can take it and stand still
You listen
You reply
You say the things I need to hear but would rather not listen to
You hold me without carrying me

With you, I am stronger because I can be weak
With you, I can be vulnerable
With you, I dare to love and show my love, as you love the way I do
Love that is unconditional, pure, free, and crystal clear
With you I more and more grow into Me
Because you are always You

And I love you for it
♥

That which cannot be seen – the hidden illness

Yesterday, Oriah Mountain Dreamer posted this video on her Facebook page. It is a video with information about ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome), an illness most often wrongly rejected as laziness, lack of willpower, hypochondria or a psychiatric or psychosomatic condition. But it is a very real multisystemic illness, classified as neurological disease by the WHO.

ME is not easily diagnosed, and there are not two completely identical cases. As many as 25% of those affected are fully disabled, some housebound or even bedridden for years on end, while others may suffer in varying degree. There is no entirely known reason, although various viruses are believed to cause the initial infection. Most recently, there have been discoveries indication a link between ME and MLV retroviruses. There is no decisive test that confirms ME, even though some claim that MRI scans can show changes in ME patients that aren't there in normal, healthy brains, and there is, today, no cure.

So why am I writing this? In mid-December, my GP diagnosed me with ME, after various appointments and blood tests during 2010, as well as ways of trying to exclude other reasons, such as seeing if I'm on a too high dosis of thyroid hormones (which I've been on since 2000 due to hypothyroidism) or whether the fatigue can be due to gluten intolerance. None of which I am. During my first appointment with my GP, who turned out to be unusually knowledgeable about tiredness, sleep, and similar problems, when he heard my medical history, me mentioned ME/CFS after about five minutes, and now it seems he feels that it has been confirmed.

Here's my background. In september 2004 I realised that I was recovered from anorexia. *fireworks, champagne corks popping* In early March 2005 I did my Reiki 1 and 2 course and initiation, followed by step 1 of tactile massage training, and during the second day of massage training fell ill. I took that as a sign of my immune system being finally functioning and somehow rebooted from a weekend of healing, and as a sign of recovery. However, the cold/flu I got was nasty and lasted for weeks. Since then, I have never fully recovered my strength; I have never felt fully rested or energised, fatigue has been a constant companion. I can have a couple of good days, followed by days when I'm so tired I feel feverish, nauseous and can't think straight. And it's not the sort of tiredness I can rest away. For years, I dealt with the tiredness in three ways: Ignoring it, thinking I was being lazy or lacking in willpower, or that I was pushing myself too hard and thus over and over again depleting my energy. I thought it was burnout syndrome, or residual stress after too many years on the dark side of the mirror (ie eating disorder), and tried to rest more, focus my energy better etc.

I've tried to cope, I really have. And I have been active: managing my company, never able to work full time during an entire year, but at times more than full time, doing my first spiral in Glastonbury, spiritual work, immense growth, writing, selfhelp work, dance, exercise etc. As the economic times have changed, less work has come in, and the stress gotten worse. That's when me being so tired has become a problem, although one that no one else has ever noticed. Because I do my work, as long as there's work. But the rest: marketing, finding new clients, writing letters and getting myself "out there" to various companies/potential clients – has been left behind. I've scolded myself over and over again for not doing it, and hate to say that I just haven't had the energy, because to most people, I am full of energy. And because I am afraid to hear what I have also been told: that I have to do what it takes and that I can't keep procrastinating. Well, that's what I've been saying to myself, too. But lack of work means constant financial stress, anxiety, and a tiredness beyond belief. I should be on partial sick leave, and I so deserve a chance to once and for all be allowed to rest, heal all the old stress, and be given an opportunity to get back, but I can't. I have bills to pay, loans to mortgage and a tax debt that might ruin me. The sick benefit I could get is calculated from my income, meaning it's low. And it's getting worse. Every cold takes longer to recover from, my mood swings from good to really, deeply low and anxious with the alternating energy levels – to a point where a friend almost suspected that I was bipolar – and I don't know what to do. Because I need more work coming in, or another form of income.

Then last winter someone, I think it may have been my brother, mentioned ME and shortly after that, I realised that I actually know exactly when I got this tired. It can be pinpointed to a virus infection. From then, I saw my GP, waited for months and months to see him again, and now, this. I still don't know whether the diagnosis is there in my medical chart or not, or if I could actually get some form of help or benefit for it. So far, I've gotten medication against the fatigue, but while that works pretty well, it means I overstretch my physical boundaries and overexert myself. And I don't know where to go from here. Would having a diagnosis help me get some sort of disability benefit, or other form of support? From what little I have read, I can see that several of my other so far strange problems can actually be common parts of ME, which gives me some understanding, but I am still not sure. I hope to see a specialist in 3-4 months' time, and take it from there.

My GP said that I must have a lot of willpower. I guess I do. Giving up is not something I know how to do, and I am terrified of becoming a victim, someone who hides behind a diagnosis instead of trying and doing the best and most I can. And yes, I have problems accepting this. That it could be close to chronic. That it could be without a cure. That the most I can hope for is learning to live with it, hoping that it will in time get better instead of worse. I can't accept that I wouldn't be able to control it, or make it go away. That no amount of positive thinking will make it good. Just better. I know that I am high-functioning, but compared to who I used to be, I am beginning to feel so tired that it scares me. And this isn't something people can see. It's hidden, and I hide it well (caffeine, makeup – being a makeup artist sure helps, tons of guts and "never give up, never surrender", and if needs be with medication), and I do my very best to deny it for as long as I can. When I am so tired that I literally shiver, feel feverish, nauseous, can hardly eat or barely stand up long enough – I stay at home, hidden behind the computer. That is how I cope.

But this is one step in my acceptance process: writing about it. Getting it out there.

Who will heal the healer?

From fulfilment to emptiness, from bliss to loneliness, from a feeling of being in the flow to a feeling of being set apart, removed. Every time.

This has been a strange week, or little-more-than-a-week. Spiritually speaking, a gateopener, or maybe rather a floodgateopener. I felt called to do work with Goddess, to channel Her light and energy, Her healing, and without having to think about it, did. And it's easy, effortless. Because I am just a vessel, a conduit, it doesn't drain me at all, as long as I keep my intention clear and unmarred by ego. And I do. And it's the most amazing thing, realising how easy it is to rise above ego and to, well, Priestess, embody, channel, whatever you want to call it. It is not for my sake or my gain, which makes the channel crystal clear. Beautiful, amazing work, and I am deeply humbled and honoured to be called to do it.

And it is opening up an interesting channel of communication, crystal clear: eye to eye, mind to mind, spirit to spirit, heart to heart. So clear that it is almos painful in its beauty, even though it isn't all open yet. But it will be. An immense gift!

What has been draining is the protection and shielding I was also, and pretty acutely, called to do for myself and others. Unexpected and quite shocking. But that, too, was a learning experience; the challenge of doing it with grace and love instead of holding up a shielding mirror to send back. (That part is not up to me.) The challenge of speaking my truth as softly as I can, knowing that it would hurt. The clarity of working with Goddess spreads across many facets of my life, and reveals the truth. Which isn't always pleasant, for anyone. The trick is to always do it from a place of love.

And meanwhile, there is my own journey. A most clearsighted Sister gave me the final clue this week in shining a light on what I knew but had failed to really feel. Pieces falling into place, leading to a major breakthrough when I suddenly knew exactly what to do. There is still a process of healing, further breaking through, and empowerment to go through, but it is well under way.

This week-or-so has reminded me of the work I am called here to do, and the immense joy of doing it. The sense of everything being right – in the flow, in my body, aligned with Spirit and Goddess, serving Her by shining Her light, like I once asked and promised to do – and a feeling of a door opening. I need more of this. Not for me as much as for the fact this is who I am and what I am called to do. Denying it would only stunt me.

But… Coming down is still as hard as when I travelled back and forth to Glastonbury and my training circle, gradually learning to hold Goddess's energy for longer times at a stretch and then landing in the mundanity of my normal life in Sweden. It always left me feeling very small, empty, and lonely. And it still does. I'm still struggling with how to sustain this spark, this light within in the everyday. Is that even possible? Or desired? I know that it shines a light on the dark, wounded spots that need to be brought into the light for healing, and even though that aspect of this path is painful, I embrace it. But the feeling of being set apart is hard; having essentially no one with whom to share this leaves me very lonely.

In a sense, this is how it is supposed to be: I come into my power alone, I am mostly a solitary practitioner, and the way in which The Lady of Avalon claimed me for Her and initiated me was in a very lonely setting. In complete solitude, entirely surrendering to Her.

But it's still hard, as no one here knows Avalon, knows the language I speak. These are the times when I miss being in a Circle of Sisters (and Brothers) and sharing. I miss people who know, who won't look to me for guidance or answers, but who listen and already know the nature of the path. A place where I can just receive, where I can be healed and held. It will come, and in the meantime I am held by the Great Mother, and my darling Sisters, wonderful weavers of the web of Sisterhood. But it is the constant question, isn't it: Who will heal the healer?

Honouring the process

Samhain is approaching. I've been feeling the energy shifting for weeks now, but more clearly so in the past few days, as I grow more and more calm as the Crone's energy grows ever stronger. I walk more boldly with Her now, more secure in the knowledge that She is there with me every step of the way. I only need to reach out my hand or lean back into her arms. Just like Rhiannon will stop for those who ask for Her, the Dark Mother is always already there for those who ask. And yes, asking and receiving is still an issue for me.

I started a strange descent into the darkness, into the Underworld, at the time of the Summer Solstice full moon. It was entirely unexpected, and has been very painful; it has almost taken me away from everything I hold dear, and I have many times wondered if She will strip me of everything, everyone. Walking with the Dark Mother isn't a pleasant journey. It is terrifying at times, it rips me apart, turns away the light and the warmth of normal life; it is tiring, confusing, hurtful. Chaotic. It brings back hurtful memories, it opens old wounds, has old patterns being repeated before my eyes; it leaves me stripped bare of my strength and skin, utterly vulnerable. And I am hurt to the very core of my being, over and over again. It is Inanna's descent into the Underworld, being torn apart and only then re-membering myself again. It is a journey of darkness, despair, loneliness, and pain. It is death, and it is transformation. It is tremendous learning, growing, empowerment, and healing, once I give in to the process instead of fighting it. Because I do fight it. It is part of my process of change; I go into it kicking and screaming, objecting wildly, resisting, but never quitting, never giving up. I will go with the flow, but in my time. It is the process.

Many times I have wished that there was a solution, a way out, a way to escape or alleviate the pain, and I can tell that others feel the same. But today, a growing realisation finally became clear to me: this is exactly how it is supposed to be. There is no easy solution, no shortcut, no way out for me. However painful it is, however I may despair, this is part of the process. I won't get out of the Underworld with the knowledge, healing, and empowerment I am supposed to find there if I stop half way. I will not emerge stronger, more in my power, more radiant if I cut the journey short. There is no other way but staying the course, however much I may cry over it. It is a process, it is a journey, and the goal is at the end of it.

And this is how it has to be, which is the hardest thing to explain as we human beings want to minimise suffering. Because if I do not walk every step of the way of my journey, if I don't experience the process fully and deeply, how am I ever going to be able to walk with others through their processes? I must know the pain and despair from passing through the Underworld, and the liberation and joy of coming back out again, before I can teach it to someone else. It is how it has to be, it is the path I am called to. As a Priestess of love and death, I must know the heights as well as the depths, the light as well as the darkness, I must know from within that the despair will pass, that there is a shining speck of light even in the darkest night. I must learn, and I must know in order to teach.

Realising this, I can honour the process. This journey is mine to travel, but I can learn to ask others to hold me, hear me, and walk with me through parts of it. All is as it should be. All is well.

The root of all…

I'm beginning to wonder whether the root of all my problems now is simply exhaustion. Haven't slept properly in 4? 5? 6 months, haven't had a single day without feeling worried about income since my former publisher announced that they would end their fantasy line (thus cutting my yearly income by half in one blow) a year ago. I feel drained, and have done since August, September some time. But even though I am careful not to overbook myself, I never get the chance to get really rested, recharge my batteries, and come back to my normal self. Partly because there are always things to do, money and work to worry about, and the constant awareness that I need to make a change but not being able to find the stillness and focus to do so, or the energy; and partly because I don't know how to recharge my batteries. How do I relax? How do I find a chance to come back in the midst of all this normal life? I don't know how to do it. Any advice would be ever so appreciated!

I am almost constantly exhausted, and the exhaustion lowers my resistance to negative thoughts and makes me incredibly vulnerable to other people's criticism and mood swings, as well as making me anxious. Or perhaps it just lowers my anxiety threshold and resistance to anxiety. Anyhow, it all seems to completely cover the true me. I miss me.

Mysteries of the Journey

Have you ever thought about how, sometimes, we start out together on a journey to a common goal, but that our paths diverge and differ, and that we arrive at the goal at different times, even though we may have taken the first step at the exact same time? I find this fascinating, and sometimes a bit frustrating, as the reasons for the differences in the journeys are not always within our control. Of course there are reasons for the different journeys we end up taking; we all have our personal journeys to make, our challenges to meet and overcome, our resistance to deal with. There is a reason for everything that happens on the journey, from the ease of the first step, the windings on the road, the crossroads and the choices we have to make there, to the people we meet, and so on.


It's like we start from the same place with the same destination in mind, perhaps even the same intention to reach the destination, but that we end up buying our tickets from different travel agents. Asking for the same route, you get an express ticket, whereas I get a slightly longer route that will require me to change my transportation along the way. We will both get to the destination, but at a different time. I may feel slightly envious and puzzled as to why you got the express ticket; don't I want to get there as fast as possible too? don't I have the same desire to reach that destination as you do? Why does the Divine/the Universe do this to me? But I forget that I will get there in the exact right time.

Then it turns out that your express route was apparently subject to roadwork, there are obstacles ahead, and your transportation is rerouted and delayed. Now you may wonder why you are being stopped from reaching your destination, when the road looked so smooth and direct to begin with. Thus forgetting that the stops are there for a reason, for your best.

Eventually, we both reach our destination, at the exact right time, and with the exact right experiences from the journey. Perhaps we have learned to trust the journey, and that we all have our own specific journeys, whose timing is always perfect for us; but then again, we might forget until the next time. I try to remind myself that no matter what anyone else's journey looks like; my journey is my own and can't be compared to yours. Of course, I sometimes get jealous when someone gets to their destination way sooner than me, or seems to have a smoother journey, and I can even beat myself up over it, wondering what I'm doing wrong or why I'm being held back like this. But more and more often, I manage to remember that we have our individual journeys without even having to think about it. Less frustration, more flow, and I can actually sit back and enjoy the journey, intrigued to see what surprises it will bring to me. So sit back, relax and enjoy the journey.

Happy travelling!

Counting my blessings

Today I choose to count my blessings rather than my wrongs and injustices

Today I choose to let go of the past rather than dwell on it

Today I choose to focus ahead instead of looking back

Today I choose to learn from what's been and release it

And the Universe replies…

Sometimes an answer can come quickly. Yesterday I wrote about how the transformation that I'm in the midst of more than anything makes me feel very lonely, and in a sense removed from other people, and today I receive this Note from the Universe:

What if loneliness was simply a feeling of impatience, telepathically sent to you by friends you've yet to meet, urging you to go out more, do more, and get involved, so that life's serendipities could bring you together... Would you still feel alone?

What if illness was just the signal a healthy body sent to urge clarification of your thoughts, feelings, and dreams... Would you still, at times, think of yours as diseased? 

What if feelings of uncertainty and confusion were only reminders that you have options, that there's no hurry, and that everything is as it should be... Would you still feel disadvantaged? 

What if mistakes and failures only ever happened when your life was about to get better than it's ever been before... Would you still call them mistakes and failures?

And what if poverty and lack were simply demonstrations of your manifesting prowess, as "difficult" to acquire as wealth and abundance... Would they still cause you to feel powerless? 

Well, whatever you feel, I still consider you my only begotten, my champion, and my equal.

Are we close, or what? 

    The Universe

Uncanny or what? Ah, I love synchronicity, because it shows that I'm getting back into the flow. When I'm in the flow, things around me make sense, I get little signs and replies to the things I'm wondering about, and quite often get the answers I need. (Which aren't necessarily the ones I want, I might add.) With the full moon and equinox coming up, I really hope to break through some more barriers and truly step into the flow again. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that the flow might take the shape of the stirrings of the Cauldron.

And the wheel turns…

New design, in celebration of the coming autumn equinox, or Mabon, which is the name of the Pagan festival at the equinox.

The days are rapidly growing shorter, and every night I am surprised at how early darkness falls. I'm still wondering what happened to summer, where did it go? How could three months go by so fast – June, July, August; all gone, in the blink of an eye. It's been a somewhat overwhelming summer, but I have this feeling that I've wasted it, because I can't see that I've really moved ahead. But maybe it hasn't been a time for moving ahead; or maybe the move ahead isn't something that can be measured yet. I know that things have changed, that I have changed, that my path is becoming clearer as the calling grows stronger and I respond to it; but it's actually with a sense of loss I look back at this summer. I feel that my calling, my path, my destiny, takes me away from the people I love, creates a distance between me and others. And I'm not sure how to bridge that gap.

It's like something has changed so much that I still can't see how much, and definitely haven't got my bearings right yet; and whether that is in me, or in my friends as well, I don't know. But I honestly preferred when things weren't this complicated, when I didn't feel so out of place and removed. I don't even have the words to describe it, even if I could talk to someone, which I'm not sure I can. More than anything, this transformation, so far, makes me feel immensely lonely. I hope that will change. Because I don't want to be alone any more. I want my path to bring me closer to the people I love, not further away from them.

I still, somewhere, have that same feeling that my time may be coming that I wrote about last month, but at the moment it feels dominated by an overwhelming feeling of being completely drained, empty. Quite depressed, really. I hope that as we move into autumn, I will get more energy again; more energy to be creative, to figure out what I want to do next in order to dream, create, and manifest my future. And to figure out how to make things less complicated, and find a solution to what seems to be the biggest lesson right now: how to not give so much of myself that there is nothing left for me, and how to learn to ask for what I need. It seems I have to make myself clearer on that point. Honestly, I feel like I (once again) focused so much on giving that I not only drained myself but also forgot what I need, or how to ask for it. Seems I have some work cut out before me.

But today is a beautiful autumn day, the sky clear blue, and the leaves still green. Where are the autumn leaves? So far, I've found one maple tree with gorgeous red leaves, but that's about it. I even saw a blooming dandelion the other day. But there is a definite autumnal bite in the wind, and the wheel is turning…

Here's to beautiful autumn days and stormy autumn nights!

Is it my time soon?

I have a strangely good feeling that's been growing for some time. An excitement about I don't know what. The not knowing bit means I feel good/excited/slightly nervous/a bit anxious; all in one. Like something's finally going to give, I will finally break out of this … shell, for lack of a better word. Move on to the next level. It's like something in me is vibrating faster, at a higher frequency. A most strange and wonderful sensation.

Something happened at the Litha full moon just after summer solstice, up at Lake Delsjön with a friend (Sister!) and bats in the air. I don't know what. Maybe I reclaimed my Priestess self, maybe Goddess reclaimed me, pulled me back into Her service (much like when She initiated me), reminded me of my calling and true nature. The part of me I cannot live without, cannot be whole without. I'm not sure. All I know is that it was the first time in a long time that I was a Priestess.

Since then, it's felt like my path has taken me to some pretty dark places; away from people, in a sense away from life. I was blessed with the chance to guide a soul to the other side, when a friend's cat had to be put to sleep, and was surprised at how naturally it came to me. But it was emotionally hard, and draining, and even thinking about it still makes me cry. I think the hardest part was that I can only go so far as to the "gate" to the Summerland, and then have to go back, leaving that other soul behind. Even though I knew she was fine, and would be fine, in that place where there is no longing or sorrow, but only love and happiness. Having been allowed to truly see another soul like that, I know how she feels and can in a sense touch base with her, but I cannot be there. Leaving was hard, and it took me quite some time to fully be back here (I guess next time I should bring chocolate). And I know it wasn't the last time I made that journey.

I've walked through a lot of old pain, old wounds, and fears and feelings that have come from my past: the fear of not being worthy, of not being lovable, of not belonging; the fear that if I don't give enough or if I demand too much, my friends won't think I'm worth being friends with (and I know how stupid that sounds); the pain of past rejections, of feeling that I'm out in the cold, alone; and the pain of wanting to be open and receiving, but not knowing how to do it. I've learned that I may have to give it time, because this is an old habit that dies very, very, very hard. But I am opening to it, and I will get there. Whenever there is a will to change, the change will come.

And so … in the midst of this, there has been this good feeling that everything will be fine, that something is coming, that this is in fact the darkest part of the night, right before the sunrise; the last struggle before the breakthrough, the shedding of the old. I'm not sure if it's over, but something is shifting and this good feeling is growing stronger. You know the feeling of butterflies in your stomach? Something like that.

My friend said the other day that it feels like it is my time now. Soon. And I agree. I feel the same. The door is open, more so than ever before, and I pray that I will never let fear shut it again…

Learning to love yourself

I stumbled onto Louise L. Hay's Amazon.com page, like I sometimes do, and my eyes were caught by a book I've seen before; the Love Yourself, Heal Your Life Workbook. Looking in it makes me sad. I realise that loving myself still doesn't come easy. Or even naturally. It's one of the things that seem to move in spirals - when I think I have learned to love and accept myself, something happens that challenges that self love. The journey deepens, the path winds ever closer to the centre of my being; to the most deeply wounded places. It is only natural, but it's painful, and it's sad to learn how I still struggle with such a simple thing: self-love, self-acceptance.

Some people seem to just love themselves; it seems to simple for them, so natural. I envy them. I didn't grow up feeling unconditional love - it may have been there, but I always felt that there were conditions that had to be met - and I have never felt unconditional love for myself, nor been able to understand how anyone else could love me unconditionally. When I love, I love unconditionally and freely - it doesn't mean I do everything right by the people I love or that I am able to always let that love guide me - but I apparently still don't believe that the same thing could be extended to me.

Reading Louise L. Hay's foreword to Love Yourself... I feel sad. I want to love myself, I want to accept myself in a way that means I won't lash out from a place of frustration and pain, I want to heal myself with love. And I can't believe how hard it is, or how I don't really know how to learn to love myself. I thought I had come so far, and yet, here I am.

Our subconscious mind accepts whatever we choose to believe. The Universal Power never judges or criticizes us. It only accepts us at our own value. If you accept a limiting belief, then it will become the truth for you. If you believe that you’re too short, too fat, too thin, too tall, too smart, not smart enough, too rich, too poor, or incapable of forming relationships, then those beliefs will become true for you.

I want to believe that I am beautiful and smart, and that I am lovable and worth loving - but when I feel that I can't or don't know how to do it, I limit myself. I do. I am aware of that. Have you any idea of how frustrating it is to be aware of the "wrong" thought and still not be able to shake it off? When I try to change it, there is always the doubt that maybe I'm just fooling myself with the affirmations. What if? What if I am, in fact, not beautiful, or smart, or lovable? Am I only deluding myself? That what if is something I haven't yet understood how to bypass.

Remember that we’re dealing with thoughts, and thoughts can be changed. We have unlimited choices about what we can think, and the point of power is always in the present moment.

This I know, and I hope to figure out how. It's time for another round of self-worth work. Yes, I ordered the book, and a number of others, and will give them a serious try when I get them. And in the meantime really try to break the negative thought patterns and drown the negative voices. Every thought I think creates my future.

The greatest love of all

Is easy to achieve

Learning to love yourself

It is the greatest love of all

~Greatest Love of All, Whitney Houston

Note: The beautiful picture above isn't mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. You can find this, and several other amazing, affirming and empowering art pieces in Patricia Omoqui's store.

Caer Sidi

This is not the dark cave any more

Although it is still dark, the walls shimmer with crystals

This is Caer Sidi, the place of spiralling

The interdimensional crossroads

Where all ends meet and part and meet again

Dark Lady, you bring me here, bring me ever deeper

Spiralling outside of time and space

Going deeper and yet higher

Into the very centre

If I could see you, Lady, I might kneel before you and ask what you want from me

But I can't, and you are not in front of me, but behind me

Watching my back in the dark as I, stumbling, find my way forward

Passing through chambers from memory and halls of future dreams

You remind me that I only ever have to reach out, and You are there

Walking through long-lost memories I open old wounds to heal

and although I feel lost and alone in the dark again

This is the place where everything comes together

And I will walk from the darkness of the lowest dungeon into Danu's crystal cave

The place of Dreaming, where I can rest in the Stillness before rebirth

And Dream the future into being

Dream Love

In the spiralling castle, outside of space and time

Dream meets reality, and I walk through the corridors of sleep

I will hail Rhiannon as I near Her presence

And find myself once more in Her deep red Hall

In the darkness I search not for the light of day, but for the light of Love

My torch, my beacon

This is the way to the Mirroring, when I open my eyes and find the Soul Mate

When I open my heart again

© Lisa Isaksson, December 12, 2009

Stuck in a rut

Just a few days ago I felt so positive about planning for a change in my work, about taking the challenge of losing "my" author and turning it into an opportunity for Goddess work, for doing things that fuel my passion and creativity. And now... I feel stuck in a rut. Like I mentally can't get over this huge wall. Resistance has kicked in BIG time, and is accompanied by two companions: procrastination and doubt. I doubt myself a lot. I doubt that whatever changes I make, whatever dreams I have, can come true enough to support me. And guess what - I get in my own way, I stand in the way of my dreams. By getting stuck with the "how" of things, with how to make my dreams happen, I forget to dream the dream, and I most certainly don't do the work. And it frustrates me. Because while I do doubt myself, I know the power of intention.

I'm so understimulated right now that it's driving me nuts. I see people moving on with their lives; new opportunities, new trainings and courses, new jobs; I see them going from strength to strength, from challenge to opportunity, from dream to reality. I am happy and absolutely thrilled with them and for them - and for a while it fuels me, too. And then, I slump back into the improductive haze of self-doubt. Into stasis. And when I start to look into why I do that, I find a lot of things - and not just the initial thought that I'm being lazy: I'm so tired that I can't really express it in words; my self-doubt is not just about doubt, but about worthiness, fear, and other underlying issues. It's not that I'm lazy and don't want to do the work, it's more that I can't figure out what to do and how to start. If someone was to ask me the right questions, of course I might be able to find the answers, but I don't seem to be that someone. I can't seem to find the questions. But part of me mentally whacks me over the head and says that I'm making pitiful excuses and am in fact just being lazy.

I guess it's safe to say I could really do with a mental/work/life coach. Someone who can help me move forward, not delve deeper into the issues at hand and what they are about, like I would in therapy. (I sososo miss my therapist, though! And I probably could do with some digging.) But where do you find someone who might be willing to do the work for (almost) free? I pretty much can't do anything that involves a cost, which leaves very few options.

There is so much I want to do, and I can't even sit myself down and start jotting down exactly what it is that I really want to do with my life. I don't even give myself a chance to start dreaming the dream, and how am I supposed to live it if I can't even think of it?

Yes, Samhain is approaching. I think part of my resistance can have something to do with the feeling of a BIG transformation waiting just around the corner. And yet I am so ready for change. I am. I welcome Keridwen, I want to dive into Her Cauldron of Transformation, I want to be swept away in a vortex of change. I'm resisting, but that doesn't mean I don't want the change or that I don't want to be transformed. I just can't get the chrysalis to burst open. I'm waiting, wings folded, to break free from this life that has grown too small for me.

... how deeply you're connected to my soul

This is a song I love more than words can say, and that continues to bring tears to my eyes and goosebumps to my arms. The first time I heard it, in fantastic Anique's workshop during the 2006 Goddess Conference in Glastonbury, UK, it started a very deep healing process. I have since heard it performed by Anique and Julie Felix (whose version is probably my favourite), sung it alone and with friends and Sisters in group, circle and ceremony, and witnessed the impact it has on people. I sing it whenever I need to feel the Love, whenever I feel low and unworthy, and I aim to spread it as widely as I can.

Lyrics: Libby Roderick.

Breaking the box - or just refusing it?

There are times when I am struck with how "alternative" I apparently am. Not in my own eyes, nor in those of my closer friends, but in the eyes of "normal people". And I wonder why. Because in all honesty, I really don't think I'm very different at all. But it may be that I come across as a fairly normal person, which makes people assume that I am, and when they realise that I don't fit in the neat little box they made for me, they are confused. And all too often these "people" are the kind who can't accept the things they don't understand and just shut up, so they have to comment their surprise. (Which is another thing I don't get; why some people have to voice every single thought and opinion they seem to have?)

I believe in trying to accept the things I don't understand, and most life choices I don't like, and I absolutely believe in not having to comment them. There are of course exceptions to what I can accept; I will never accept that people choose to harm themselves or lead destructive and self-deprecating life styles, I will never accept intolerance, paedophilia, abuse of animals, women and children, chauvinism, bullying, and fundamentalism, and I have no problem voicing those opinions, which I don't see as a problem, either. But this thing of seemingly having to speak every single thought out loud, no matter how irrelevant and negative it may be, that is something I don't understand. Usually, I just refuse to react to it.

I like breaking people's boxes, I like messing with their preconceived notions of normality and their judgements of me. I like when they have to reconsider and - hopefully - realise that there is more to life than they may have thought. But at times, I am reminded of how different I seem to be.

I'm not normal, and shy away from normality in the sense of neat little boxes and labels, but the things that feel natural and normal to my identity, can be box-breakers for others.

But in what way?
I'm a Goddess follower, I am in Her service as Her Priestess (which is not the formal title of the Christian church, but more a term for my commitment to Her - in lack of a better word); but I don't really relate to the term Pagan.

I love body art - especially tattoos and piercings - and see them as a means of self-expression. This may not be uncommon anymore, but I apparently don't seem like "the type". Guess what? I am. There are more patterns on my body that have yet to rise to the surface and be captured in ink by great artists...

I'm into sex/playing that may seem kinky and perverted to others - BDSM, dominance/submission - have found that immensely empowering and rested gently in surrendering control while still keeping the ultimate control of the situation. (If any Dom doesn't respect a stop word, it's not BDSM any more, but abuse and rape.) It is something that resonates with me on a deep level, and that feels very true. But many normal people frown upon it and would never admit the kinky stuff that goes on in their vanilla bedrooms.

I'm not heterosexual, and haven't been since before puberty. For the longest time I defined myself as bisexual, but with the years I've come to realise that it is not an accurate label. Even though I may play with men, do sessions with them, I am not attracted to them. Sex with a man has always left me feeling unsatisfied, even though the men in question have (too) often pointed out how wonderful it is. I guess there's some spirit work involved, channeling the Divine through the mind/body connection of sex, but to me that actually feels more like work than the pleasurable rapture and passion that sex should be.
So last week I took the plunge and decided that it was time to stop denying the obvious: I'm gay, not bi. The change is purely semantic in nature, but that little change of a prefix is a huge one to many people. For me, it's just stating the obvious and I'm really quite surprised that I didn't see this more clearly sooner. Rhiannon did point me in that direction more than two years ago, and only a week and a half ago, when relating Her message to a couple of friends, did I finally hear what She had been saying. There is more to be said in that matter, but in time.

So as for boxes, I'm not a fan of them. I don't like limitations to who I am; I spent far too many years building a prison for myself to ever let that happen again. I am free now, and I will not let anyone tell me how I should be or that what I do or am is wrong.

Addendum, July 13: A friend drew my attention to how I apparently stand out a bit among normal people because of the way I dress and the music I like as well... But is that really relevant? Music and dress style seem to be areas in which it is accepted to deviate, because then people can usually see what subculture you belong to. Usually, not always.

Tempting, but no thanks

Will the temptation ever die? Will there ever be a time when I no longer turn to my shadow self when things get rough? Will I ever not look in the mirror at the first signs of trouble? It's still a gut reaction, a reflex, to step into the shadow and let that part of me whisper just a little bit louder when this life gets too stressful, too frustrating, too full of duty and too lacking in sex, fun and creativity.

So I'm a passionate person, and I've found that the two sides of my passion are creation and destruction. If I don't get my kicks one way, I need them the other. If there's too little creativity, I become destructive. It's not the least surprising, although the realisation that this is really the case came as a bit of a surprise. But it explained everything perfectly. In my life, I have for long periods of time had very little room and/or energy for creativity, and lacking that creative outlet, I have found other outlets, mostly destructive ones. And I never understood that my penchant for self-destruction had anything to do with the passion that I sometimes misread as intensity or hypomania, but is just a very natural, fiery, earthy passion. That is, until I understood.

When life becomes too full of stressors, mainly in the form of lack of money, and there are more duties than fun, or I feel stress and pressure and don't know how to express it, how to release the energy, I turn to my shadow self. This is how I have done for many years, and even though I rarely act on it, I turn that way. It is my default reaction. That part of me seems like a twisted comforter, an escape into a reality that deals with problems on a completely different scale.

I can be so very, very tempted to let that side of me take over for a while, to let the stressful thoughts drown in the whispers of my shadow self and just obliterate everything else. Just for a while it would be wonderful to hand the wheel to my dark passenger and let her drive. Just for a while. But I know it doesn't work that way. I don't trust myself to let that other side of me out for just a bit, because I know that if I give her space and listen to her, she will always demand more space, more time, more of me. She is never satisfied with just a little. And if I'm feeling vulnerable and really, really want an escape from the pressuring, stressful reality, I might just as well be tempted to give just a bit more space to my dark, destructive side... and more... and more... Not intending to step back into the mirror fully, into the dark glass, but just as a small way out. And I know too well how hard it is to step out again, to tear myself away from that escape - I've done that too many times in the past before I stepped away from the mirror.

So I am tempted, but I don't go there. Not very far, anyway. I'd love to, just for a while, just to rest in numb oblivion, but no thanks.
Because I know I will want more and more and more. This is my drug of choice.

The Lure of the Mirror

At times I wonder if it is ever possible to be totally free from the ties to the mirror, to break completely free and never look back. How many years down the line is that, in that case? Do I even want to forever completely sever the ties, if I can? They say it takes as long to be free as it took to hit rock bottom, and in that case I have many more years to slowly break the chains, one link at a time.

Most of the time it really isn't on my mind. I can look in the mirror and appreciate what I see without feeling the slightest desire to step back, not even the smallest inkling to step on the scales. Other times I am curious and hear the siren's song again. Quietly and from far, far away, like fairy music in my dreams. But I hear it, and if I listen to it, give room to the oh so quiet voice from the other part of me, that part that has shrunk, almost into oblivion, but is nevertheless always with me, a part of me; if I listen to that voice, to the alluring lilt in its seduction, I know it will grow stronger. It has no hold over me, not yet anyway, but can I safely say that I will never give it hold over me? No. I'm being honest here: I will always be able to choose to go back. I don't know what it would take to push me into making that choice, and it won't be one easily, casually made, but the choice remains. I have too much to lose to want to take the risk, now, although I sometimes wish I didn't have to feel this much.

But there is a middle ground, between being completely outside of the mirror and being inside it, and I am playing in that area, sometimes comfortably far away, sometimes challenging myself to step just a bit closer to that smooth, shiny surface. You know you want to... And yes, I do. I want to be able to have one foot in the mirror and still be free. I want to eat the cake and not eat it; I want to be healthy and yet slightly less than healthily slim. Not unhealthy, but just not normal, average. I want it all, the drama, the high, the rush, the feeling of pushing boundaries, and still be sane, focussed and able to lead a normal, happy life. Impossible? Hrmph! Impossible is nothing. I.e. it shouldn't be impossible; it doesn't have to be, does it?

I do miss the drama a bit. Not that I'm a drama queen, because it was always my hidden, secretive inner drama. A bit of Sturm und Drang in the Good Girl's dull life. OK, so I'm not as good a girl any more, and there's definitely room for passion, drama, a spicier life, and it's not usually that dull, either. But occasionally, I miss the internal drama and the secret life. And I still fear normalcy, whatever that is. I don't want to be normal if it means being average, mediocre, mainstream, like everyone else, invisible. That's not me. They tell me I'm anything but invisible, but then how can I feel so invisible?

So I play with the mirror, test the strength of my ties to it, see how far I can push the boundaries before I feel its pull, before I start seeping into it. This is nothing new and not entirely conscious, but I've become aware that this is what I do. About a year ago I felt that I was too big, and decided to lose a bit. Nothing much, just a bit. And slowly, oh so slowly, I have. No dramatic changes, in spite of the tough times with an unwanted pregnancy and a manipulative man in autumn, in spite of the constant stress of money and work (or no work). I haven't given up eating, given in to dieting, or to compensation/purging behaviours. Still go to the gym too seldom for the membership to really pay off. But it's in my mind, and it's been there on and off, like an undertone or a subaudible, hidden track in my thoughts. And it's summer, and I'm under a lot of stress, feel emotionally exhausted and low, and that always affects me somewhat.
For a while, a week or so in May, I thought I might choose that path again, when the weight thoughts were stronger than in many years after I'd had to weigh myself at my GP's before an asthma exam, but I held back and worked with the thoughts and why they had appeared so strongly. I was proud of myself for that. I am in control, I choose what to do and will not give in to any fearful thoughts. But the fact remains: I have lost, willingly, even though I have been more or less happy with how I look for months. I can look in the mirror and be happy, satisfied. This is new, I never felt that before I broke out of the mirror. I can actually say that I look good and feel beautiful. Not every day, not all the time, but often enough. And yet... Do I think I look better when I am slightly smaller? (Not obviously underweight, unhealty small, but just a little bit less than average.) I don't know, I really can't say. But here is enough (another new thought). I don't want my breasts to shrink, because I've lost half a cup size and I like my breasts! So no more. That's what I say. Now, the test is whether I will stop and just stay here. That is where I know the game is, the challenge of whether or not I have stepped ever so slightly back into the mirror's shadow.
Let's see. For now, anyway, I am still my own and in control of my behaviours, and I have no intention of giving that control over to the darker part of me, to the mirror girl...

~L~

Journeying through the mirror

I stepped out of the mirror years ago, and yet... I can't help but wondering whether I will ever truly leave it. Whether it will leave me. Perhaps I will forever live in the shadow of the mirror that for so long held me captivated; a prisoner of my own fears and twisted ideals. Don't get me wrong, the mirror no longer controls me, and it has nowhere near as great a hold on me as it used to have, but there is still a strange fascination and at times a temptation, an enticement. It can lure me, but I know far too well what I have to lose to want to give in.

I am recovered, as far as recovery ever seems to go. There is no way to sandblast away what was or the reminders of what I spend so many years doing to myself, and I have no desire to. I am the sum of my experiences, my knowledge, my healing as well as my wounds, and to deny my past would be to deny my self. When I say that I am recovered, I mean that I no longer live with an eating disorder 24/7, or even an hour a week. Anorexia no longer controls my every move and thought. I don't starve or purge or binge because life seems unsurmountable or I feel like crap, I no longer give in to impulses of self-destruction or endulge in self-injurious behaviours on a regular basis. I live a fairly normal life with fairly normal behaviours - as far as I've been able to understand "normal" anyway. I think I will always be recover-ED. A sober, non-starving, non-purging anorexic. Can there be anything else after 25 years on the other side of the mirror?

This state of being recoverED is not a bad thing. In fact, it's wonderful. Even the dark days are better than how the light days were there, on the other side. They sure can feel darker, but how could it be otherwise; this life has nuances, an endless display of colour, light and darkness; countless emotions, although I am still struggling with them. As I let more light in, the darkness seemed darker, more scary even, for a time. In all honesty, I still feel more comfortable in the dark, with the darkness, the deeper emotions, the introspection, the raw feelings in the depths of being. I like the light, but it somehow seems... insubstantial in comparison. Superficial. Love and light and sweetness and all that. But life is more than love and light - it's also death and pain and darkness. I grow by passing through the dark patches, by breaking through the veils of fear that still surround me. By walking through the darkness, going through the deepest depths of despair to reemerge in the light. I feel at home in the dark, but I need to balance it with light to be able to live. Too much dark breeds depression. Just like a plant needs light to survive, so do I.

But I am still not so sure about being normal. Whatever that is. When I think "normal", I still get a feeling of mediocrity, being average, not being special, being invisible. That form of normality is not for me, and I have finally realised that without feeling that I should make excuses for wanting to be like everyone else. I am beginning to realise that my balance, my state of normality is not necessarily trapped in the in-between space between the highs and the lows, the grey-scales of the comfort zone where you are safe and don't stand out too much; my in-between is a balance between the highs and lows where I get them in a more or less equal amount. But it's still a bit scary to fully accept that some people will always see me as "too much" as I don't want to live life in greytones or in a comfort zone of being average. I am not average. I am me.