Where have you BEEN?!

Oh you know….

Just dealing with a positive amount of good chaos and an amount of chaos that has been…. neutral/bad/takes time to ride out the consequences of chaos.

Has Changeling’s Agony progressed any?
Somewhat.  I know where I’m going with her and I know why and when but all characters are going “nu uh. Not yet for now.”  Same with all the other stories.

I’m not yet back until November. A good friend invited me to her state and the place that has projects that need built for the month of October.  I can’t wait. I’m going to be IN DA WOODS for well over a month.  Yes, manuscripts coming with for when I can’t sleep or wake up early.  Yes you’ll get to hear about the adventures….after I’m back in town.

Sabbatical.  Every human needs this. As at least 72 hours no digital age.  Do EEETTTT!!!! It’s refreshing. It’s wonderful.  It’s been four years since my last.

More posts soon before I go, and I will try to have some scheduled posts.  K?

Advertisements

When Hobbies hurt

DR bought me a basic 25 lb Bear long bow.

I tried it out last night on a simple target of just a card board box over a bag of stuffing.  As soon as the string began to slip from my fingers, one of them was screaming in my ear.

There’s a hole under the sink in the cabinet door.

I’m getting tired of random times of hobbies being spoiled…. or is it really that random…..

Grit your teeth.

“Slow your breathing.”

“Keep pulling the trigger.”

Surprisingly enough the range was just about empty yesterday. We had time before he had another work trip.

I get the shakes on the first magazine. The person to try and teach me firearms first was an abusive ex of mine who also ended up being one of my rapists. Dude has more problems than days he’s been alive.

The period of not being around guns and not shooting regularly is over.

I’m doing dry fire work the rest of this week, right now with his 1911 and then with the M&P shield.  The shield is the gun I’ll be using in my gun class next Saturday and I have got to get used to that trigger.  Damn thing kicks like a mule.

I’m worried that weight of the 1911 will throw me off a little, then again it may prove an advantage.  I don’t know yet.

Gonna be a long week.  I’m ramping up training for something next year called a Gun and Run.  You run obstacles and they have between parts of the obstacle course shooting ranges. I’m actually looking forward to it.  *glares at her hip* Even if it means chewing Aleve (which seriously is gross, but hey).

Trying to seize what opportunities are presenting themselves in my life is… harder than I thought.  I really just want to be farming.  Seriously. Still just want to be a farmer.  At least that I know I’m good at.

Scars

Skin deep?

Soul deep?

Heart deep?

Mind deep?

Spirit deep?

These are what define a human for me. There is the body. The soul. The heart. The mind. The Spirit.

Spirit being sum of all the prior things.

True traumatic events inflicts scars straight to the spirit. Which inflicts upon all that comes before spirit with is the body, soul, heart and mind. Spirit scars take the longest to heal.

Can the spirit heal?

Through time. Patience.

Did I mention patience? It’s not just patience from other people. You have to be patient with yourself.

You have to take the time to stop and step back and watch yourself. You have cut people off.

You have to accept a type of responsibility for what’s happened to you. It’s not up to anyone else how you interact with others. That’s up to you.

It’s up to you how you heal.

Period.

Past Blast: That elephant has been in the room so long….

Evie: Written back in June of 2014, this was a strange article to write. I don’t normally talk about these things that happened in my past to this extent, so to be able to lay out was… a bit of a relief in many ways.

….it’s turned into a damn skeleton.  And trust me, if you’ve seen what elephant skeletons look like you agree with me that they are the freakiest of the skeletons in the animal kingdom.  No holds bar even.

I’m going to dive head first into something here, that’s been bugging me for awhile.  It cropped up, maybe a week ago.  It reminded me of a lot of anger I had, and still have in some small chunk that is chained up in a corner and that gets periodically taken out to do some serious exercise so that it keeps losing weight.  It’s a little known demon of mine, that I’ve been working on starving to death.  However, when you know these kind of demons like I do… you know they take forever to die.

We’ll start with the friends conversation (and darling, I know you’ll probably look this over, if you beat yourself up over having caused me some pain, I’m going to hex your computer again. I’ve been needing to nail this to the wall for awhile now). He messaged me on facebook and launched himself in a massive apology.  He’d been going over old photos from when I used to Science Fiction/Fantasy cons (Hey I’ve been a geek girl for a long ass time!) and started to compare the pics of me to pics of me now.

I thought he was going to weep.  He finally noticed, after 4ish years…. how sick I had been.  I was in hell.  This was back in late 2009 I think.  I was still involved with a dipshit, that I’m only just able to even admit to myself that I was nothing more than a bed warmer and…well, yeah.  I’ll let you choose a word.  He was smart enough to never lay a hand on me and never did much in public besides tolerate me.  In private, he was an incredibly fucked up individual.  And that, is as far as I’m going when it’s about him.  Pictures of me from 2010 are probably just as bad.  I try to avoid looking at them honestly and thought I was hiding well enough to where no one was going to be to notice.

This friend… has been the only person to notice and then say something to me about it.  THE ONLY DAMN ONE!  I was balling my eyes out.  He had noticed the difference finally…. out how many folks that claimed to be my friends?  It was surreal at how much it felt like I had just lost some kind of burden.

That tends to happen when you have a good partner.  One that you don’t try and change.  That you leave alone and respect them, respect their choices in job (as best you can, there are times some of his work is absolutely infuriating, but I’m doing my best to not nag him over it.  Do I fail? I know I do sometimes.)

It wasn’t until about January 2012, when I finally got out of that last funk of depression that I start seriously looking at several of my relationships (as plural as in friends not just romantic).  HOLY FUCK!  I was friends with some highly abusive folks.  I looked at myself and saw where my own faults and things that I hadn’t taken care of yet, had attracted that kind of low quality person.

I’d like to think I have shaken all the folks that weren’t good for me at this point.  Maybe some of them found they didn’t feel like we were compatible as friends anymore, I don’t know.  I stopped talking to a massive chunk of the folks I used to hang out, shoved them away.  And I’ve done my best to keep it cordial and friendly at times, and yet again here, I admit there’s been failures at this. I haven’t had any kind of abusive relationship with anyone in about 2 years now.  Most folks will not understand how huge that is, but the Fiance knows and I know, and that’s good enough for me.

Another part of the anger that got pulled up has been this whole bruhahaha over MZB, author and turns out according to her daughter finally being able to talk about, child rapist.

… I greatly enjoyed Mists of Avalon, I will admit that but there is a serious reluctance now to read anymore of her own books.  The reports of her activities (even though at the moment the trail and inspection and presentation of evidence is still on-going) have come out a time when I’ve been finding myself forced to deal with another unsavory fact about my own life again.

I’ll keep it short: the church I grew up in, had a problem with some (Actually looking back it may have been all) of the teenagers molesting and being sexually active with many of the younger kids.  I’m talking three, four five years of age.  And that didn’t stop just because the kids got older.  These teens had in turn, probably been molested by teens when they been at that age.  I never really said anything to anyone, because I thought it was also normal.  (shudder)

A few weeks ago, I find out such things are not isolated incidences. They are pandemic apparently.  It was weird feeling relieved that I was not the only one.

“Damnit Evelyn, can’t you catch a break?”

I did. Two years ago.  There’s a lot more work to be done.  I want to have kids someday AND there’s a part of me going “Look at this!  Fuck you evil pieces of shit!  Look at me, being a mom and not taking my past out on my kids.  Look at me using my past lessons, keep them from getting hurt like I did.  I am doing it and I’m going to keep doing it!”

*deep breath, yarn over hook, pull through loop..*

All right Anger demon, back in your chains in the corner.  I do believe you’ve lost a good several pounds.

Slow and steady progress

Ouch.

I found something in my stuff while sorting things to pack that I had forgotten about.

It triggered a minor episode. I say minor, because I stayed lucid. The days of losing lucidity are few and far between now. Thanks Gods.

The item in question is going in the dumpster. I feel exhausted still though. I’ve been slowly knitting and I’m not down for the count today… Though that could change.

Slow and steady progress is there. Slow. At least its steady.

When Evie is bored….

…all right I admit… this series should actually be titled something like “When the Insomnia hits”….

Allow me to introduce to a band, that I had the pleasure of seeing in person my first year, but not my second year of working security at Dragon*Con.  ❤ these guys.

The Cruxshadows.

Much love for these folks. Just… yeah. ❤

Sunshine on your shoulders

Honestly does make you happy. It’ll make you happier if it’s on your bare skin. No, no sunscreen. Just ten to fifteen minutes of sunshine.

We’re going to talk about something rather personal for me, so sit back with that cup of coffee or tea because this might ramble long.

In case it’s not been apparent, I do have depression problems. They used to be incredibly severe depression problems. For whatever the year leading up to hitting puberty and then for most of my adult life up until about January 2012 was spent in a series of working my way upwards so to speak.  The last real dangerous bout of depression was in the last months of 2011. I honestly don’t remember most of the last two months of that year outside of a beautiful cat, and my big brother and sister (adopted).

I do not nor ever have used medication to treat it. Why not? Given I can’t have three major food groups, am allergic to only the Gods know what else (allergy tests are expensive but on the agenda) and Penicillin, codiene and sulfa drugs…. you seriously think that I was going to risk worsening my symptoms while they played let’s tweak this that and the other thing until they found the right mix? That I would then be quite possibly dependent on for the rest of my life?  Er… no thank you. That is not for me. I like being lucid and not doped up.

Going back to the stages when the depression hit… I don’t remember most of my childhood in passing let alone my teenage years.  I remember my Junior and Senior years a bit more than the rest but they are still blurry.

This ties back into the sunshine bit in a few, like I said, it’s going to take a bit today.

After having the fortune of getting to cabin sit (sound familiar?) things were looking odd for me. I spent 7 months in that cabin, and during that time went through the worst bout of depression I had ever been through because I was finally admitting to things having happened to me that I didn’t want to admit to even myself. January 2012 marked the turning point.

It’s amazing what happens when you finally admit to the shit that’s happened to you and admit you may or may not have been able to grasp it more quickly and avoid so many mistakes.

I was still climbing out of that hole when I ended up not having a phone for about 9 days. Everyone else was freaked out. Me? I was happy. No one could bother me, I couldn’t access any social media sites, the weather was gorgeous save for one day where I just sat with Mindy fire gazing and I was getting massive amounts of sunshine. It was warm enough to be splitting wood in just a tank top and I did.

That was another thing, I was forcing myself to exercise and let me tell you something, chopping wood is great exercise…after you get the technique down.

To use what’s probably a cliche “I woke up.” That’s the best way of describing it. To be honest, it’s left me with not a lot of sympathy for people who kill themselves just because they were depressed. Now, if you’ve actually a disease that you know is going to rob you of who you are (like something terminal like cancer) and you give the folks around a chance to good bye, I’m okay with that. “But you just said-“ I said, you’re damn a coward if you are just depressed. There have been more cowardly suicides than anything else.

That does not mean, that there aren’t other types of suicide. Take Robin Williams for instance. We are just now finding out about all the shit that was going wrong with his body and he knew about it. So while I can understand his reasons, he’s a coward. Because he didn’t give the people around him a chance to say good-bye and make amends where they  needed to be made.  Now do you get it?

Had I managed to commit suicide at any point, I would have been a coward. TURNING THE FOLKS AROUND YOU INTO VICTIMS OF SUICIDE BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO GIVE THEM A CHANCE TO SAY GOOD-BYE MAKES YOU FUCKING COWARD. Suicide turns everyone whose ever known you into a victim of it in that instance.

I don’t have a problem with folks who are fully aware that they will shrivel up and mentally stop being who they are in a few years from a cancer or disease, living it up and when things take a turn for the worst, throw a party and let everyone hey, say good-bye. You can try arguing with me, but the longer I stay here and suffer the less I’m going to be the person you know and love. Then a few days later or weeks later, quietly and peacefully, and at that point almost honorably, ending it.

Like I’m saying, you have to let folks have a chance to say good bye and make amends. If you don’t, you’ve just insured they are going to be tormented now for the rest of their lives.

Now, just so folks know… a whole bottle of aspirin doesn’t work if you don’t have an aspirin allergy. It’s what I had on hand and that was when I was about 22. Holy shit and don’t look at very colorful stuff either. I think I managed to only get high off it, which I know doesn’t make much sense. The scars on my writs have faded. I’ve had people ask me why I don’t remove them.  I need the reminder of where I’ve been.

Back to the cabin time. Part of what helped about what happened during the week-off from everything and everyone (remember, no phone for nine days) was it stopped mattering that only a few folks were coming to visit me. Only maybe like four or five people came and visited. That was depressing in of itself. Also had a few interesting incidents with folks thinking it was a driveway to no where and being rather shocked to find out there’s a woman with a Glock 26 informing them they ain’t lighting up on her property (and it wasn’t weed I’ll tell you that much. For those of you just now hearing that story, I’ll be that gels a few things!)

After literally nine days of no contact, separating myself from folks that I needed full separation from and a rather nice tan, I was looking around my kitchen realizing that I was seeing it for the first time. I was loving on my cat for the first time. I was seeing the yarn in my hands and feeling it. Really actually feeling it.

The crocheting, the silence, the solitude, the cat, the sunshine, the time I got to spend working on my friends farm, the chopping wood, the stopping running from my past… those are just the pieces of the process that I can remember off the top of my head that got me here…to this point… talking to you via a blog.  It wasn’t until a few months later that I started putting two and two together about sunshine, vitamin D deficiency and the very serious role that vitamin D plays in depression.

I still deal with depression, the PTSD and some serious social anxieties. I still crochet, a lot as many of you know. Crocheting while sitting sunshine is… *happy smile and sigh*  Part of the problem I’m dealing with right now, is that I haven’t kept up a routine of going outside every day and getting sunshine for about 15-20 minutes (that seems to be my sweet spot, but everyone is going to be a bit different in what they need). Trust me, I can feel a huge difference when I remember to get my sunshine and when I don’t. It’s… disconcerting to say none the least. So I’m working on trying to make that a habit.

Also in March 2012, is when I started talking to DZ, the man who is now my fiance and that I am moving with.  That however my dears, is a story for another time.

Past Blast: To Rebuild: The ability to Trust

Evie: This post was originally written back in September 2013.  New comments are going to in italics for this post as I think the parenthesis stuff just gets confusing. Also I know this is super early today but there won’t be a Changeling’s Agony post today either. My ovaries hit me a day early and even the dragons are hiding so past blast it is.

One of the components of PSTD recovery is the work that is put into be able to rebuild trust.  Into yourself and into those who’ve been working hardest to stay at your side.  It’s a double edged blade.  Nature based traumas, don’t seem to have nearly the effect on the person’s ability to trust others (as far as what I have seen.  Let’s make that clear.)  When the traumas, are human induced, all trust is shattered.   

Trust in those who were your comrades from combat caused traumas, and that were there, tends to deepen.  But for those who weren’t there… it’s gone.  Non-combat related traumas are slightly more tricky it seems.  Again, remember I write as a rape survivor with PTSD.  I’m comparing my experiences to the experiences that have the most information available which are… yeah, my apologies to my friends of the military sector.  It’s what I have to go with. 

As a rape survivor, my trust in every other human being and including in myself was just gone.  I have two people I can trust without trying, these days, three [soon to be five with the approaching New Year years after the incidents.  They’ve also been there for me through some of the worst storms of my life to date.  (Oh I hate having to add that caveat. To date.  All because I know worse could happen. )  They stepped up and worked on showing me that they were worth of my trust. To the extent I call the couple my brother and sister now.  

In less than two weeks, I see my fiance again.  For the first time, in more than a year.  Now, we’ve used every means of communication (Except a nice written letter… and yes, he knows he’s being glared at.)  We have a really damn good bond… long distance.  Now, it’s almost time to build a physical relationship again, and that means rebuilding our trust.  That means BOTH of us, working to build it.

And work on it we did. There were a lot of things that I was immediately comfortable with telling him and expressing to him. For a very long time, I had massive amounts of armor up still in several areas. He rolled with it. These days, if there’s something I haven’t told him, it’s because I’ve forgotten about it. When I do remember something I’ve not told him yet, he gets informed. There’s been a lot of pain and tears, mostly from from finally dealing with several memories. Every time he can, he’s right there with me. Barring work, but that’s normal. 


See, he’s going to have to earn my trust and build trust with me. In the same as I am going to with him.  I’m honestly looking forward to it.  Despite nerves playing hell with me and the tendency to re-play how many times people have broken their word to me in the past, well… you get the picture.

Here’s the thing.  He WANTS to build it.  He wants to make me happy and help me be able to enjoy my life with him.  He WANTS to put the work into it.   That’s the key difference between him, my brother and sister and all these other people are.  I’ve mentioned in other blog posts, that I’ve walked away from friends.  I’ve pushed friends away.   There’s this little word that tends to pop up… and its the tendency of people when they learn you’re a survivor to say “Just…”

Let’s get something straight my dears.  Saying “Just let it go. Just grow up. Just get over it. Just quit crying. etc…”  Anything like that phrase comes out of an idiots mouth and it’s time for you to walk away from them.  They aren’t going to understand regardless of how much information you give them.  They’ve judged you wholesale and they don’t care about you.  They aren’t going to take the time and make the effort to build trust with you.

And that’s very painful.  These were people that I had shared some great and some not-so-great experiences with.  I couldn’t trust them though.  There was no effort to engage in re-building trust.   I can’t hang out with people I don’t trust.  Part of that trust building that can be done… IS STOP FUCKING TOUCHING WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Seriously.  I had too many people to count hugging me without permission.  Touching my shoulders.  *(&^T#(^$*$@(!#&Y^%&TY$@($&*(%Y#Y.   It was murder.  These were people who SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.  I had grown up in an abusive home.  I had trust issues to begin with.  Then that crapp happened.  My desire to trust anyone was very quickly extinguished because no one was asking for the small amount of physical trust that a hug takes.  They were just taking it.   Just taking it.  The amount of damage that did, I’m still processing.  Another component of re-building trust: empowering the person.

Asking before hugging.  Asking before touching.  If I don’t shake your hand back, seriously, it’s not you.  I’m not trying to be rude.  Respecting the person’s space, is crucial.  That’s why the people or person you know who has PTSD, may seem anti-social at times.   They need their space.  Respect the space, and trust them (or me) to tell you if it’s okay. 

Human induced trauma, tends to towards being a act of personal violation.  Especially combat or rape induced.  It violates your spirit, your heart, your mind and your soul.  Not just your body.  PSTD research and awareness has made huge bounds in the past few years thanks to the military being more willing to address the problem.

Their research and methods, do cause ripples in the civilian world that help civilians with PTSD.  These are great for their bodies and minds, but hearts, spirits and souls are harder to heal.  It’s more work.  It’s harder work.  It’s a much longer investment of dedicated time.  Service animals dedicated to working with PTSD afflicted individuals are among some of the best and first responders to re-building trust.  These sweet beloved animals are life savers.  They only know love for you.  They know you’re hurt somehow and they want to help you take care of yourself because you’re their pack. 

Building trust with my fiance is going to be hard work.  It’s not going to just happen.  I have the rest of my life to enjoy with him.  So I’m know we’re both going to make the effort, to do it right.  

Past Blast: *Stitch stitch stitch*

Evie: Past post because I’m still really groggy, had a not so good night’s sleep and feeling a bit frustrated over some comments made via email about me being too random.  O_o Originally posted September 2014

Just keep stitching, just keep stitching.

There are many days and times were this is the only mantra that I have going through my head.  It certainly was last week.  Concept called mindful knitting or crocheting.

I had stumbled onto this on my own a few years back but a friend recently pointed it out to me online, and a rabbit hole later I’d found a lot of information on it.

Why mindfulness is great?

Pretty simple actually.

You’re preventing events of that day/moment from draining you of energy you need for other things.  You’re removing the power an event or memory has over you, by focusing on the yarn and project in your hand.

We are all aware of the significance of last week (9/11).  Being the passionate woman that I am (Yes, I heard that chortle) I decided for my sanity (what little of it that’s left) would be better spent knitting or crocheting last week. As I had two personal anniversaries that make me cringe still that week, one of them being my first wreck ever at 26 (yes, I was pretty lucky to go that long, but there were a lot of things I could have done to avoid that wreck. No one was killed or badly injured, but it still bothers me a LOT).

And as we all know, 9/11 brings out the idiots of various conspiracy theories and just plain bullshit of people who can’t seem to grasp the manner.  I hate that entire bullshit.  I repeat, HATE that bullshit.  It’s one of the disrespectful displays of arrogance, bubble syndrome and plain naivete.  It spits on the graves of those who were lost when people quibble over what happened.

I still have the image seared into my head of them showing what used to be a dozen floors squashed into a space less than, if I recall correctly, four feet thick.  I’m still stunned by the news from friends who lost folks, that they are still identifying remains even today.

Those two reasons are part of why I won’t engage in the endless roundabouts of what happened.  It’s rude to the dead and disrespectful to the people who survived the events and the folks that the victims left behind.  Then you have the repercussions of those events, that increased all who were affected.  Which is a whole other kit and kaboodle of worms that need thrown on fishing hooks and drowned while sitting on the banks of a lake or river, while sipping cold beer and enjoying those who are with you.

So I put my headphones in or talked to my fiance or we went and watched the sunsets.  I just kept stitching.  Mindfulness extends to not just knitting or crocheting.  You can apply it to washing dishes, walking dogs, reading books, sharpening tools, cleaning guns, sitting with a cup of coffee and just watching the sunrise or sunrise or a thunderstorm move, etc.  It’s healthy.  It counter acts depression.

It lets you have a few moments of just you. Of sweet, lucid, calming sliver of time that is just you and the world.  It lets you step back and reevaluate what’s going on.  Re-establishes your boundaries, your balance, your center.  It takes the edge of this rape victim’s PTSD flashbacks. It shortens them. Makes me lucid faster.  Yeah, the project ends up a bit wet from crying (yeah, I just admitted that), but I’m out of it faster.  It lets me work off the anger over careless comments from people who should know better and it let me work off the hatred over ignorant dipshits who don’t know what the fuck it is they are talking about.

I’ve received a lot of criticism in the past year or so, over an increasing reluctance to commit to “pet causes.”  There’s been a rash of “warm fuzzy” causes, that you do for less than a minute and you get to brag you did for a couple of days and then what?  That was shallow, fleeting and you’re back at square one with…well, I can’t classify what for you as I’m not you.  And yes, this me criticizing several things all lumped together.

When you decide to champion a cause, you need to do it every day, even if it’s just for a few minutes of sharing relevant information or laying out plans for the next event, etc.  You need to actually champion it.  You need to wear it like a tattoo.

So in response to a rather snide cunt, who may or may not be female, I’ll listing out my causes again for all to see.  I don’t really care if they are you “flavor” nor do I give a flying fuck if they align with your politics.  These are my babies, that I want to help as much as I am able to help. Many times, all I can do is help spread the word they exist but at least I’m trying to stay consistent.

The Battle Buddy Foundation 

Hats for Our Veterans

Right now, that’s because I can’t find the others or even remember which folders I have them bookmarked into.  Hats is run by a sweet lady, and donates several dozen (I think this year they managed a couple hundred hats) to organizations that work with homeless vets.  It’s not much, but a warm hat, scarf and gloves is better than nothing, which is what I otherwise have.

For TBBF, it’s sharing as frequently as I can and spreading the word.

So there.  That’s my ramblings for today.  Now if you’ll excuse me….*stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch…*