I Told...Imbolc

 Dear Hearts,

So I just wrote an impossible long PM to my cousin Mickey telling her the truth of the last four years.

It felt…

Good to let out.

I am over hiding it.

Mickey and I were together a lot growing up—she is three years older than I—and she was bossy! J She was always like the City Mouse to my Country Mouse. But, she has such a huge heart and she is crazy—it runs in the family. No, she isn’t crazy like I am, but she has four boys. Four in one house. Christ on a cracker!

She took care of both her parents when they died pre-mature deaths from cancer. The loss she has suffered…I’m just a weak fucking excuse. I never told her about my problems because—I’ll be honest—I thought she’d judge me. She is so strong and I feel like I just checked out.

She cares. She called me and we talked for over an hour. She really cares—I had no idea. And, what she said to me in an hour was revelatory!

T. and I—She said it was the perfect storm. I was getting ECT and really fucked in the head and I met him. I knew that night I OD’ed he was crazy and not right—but when I woke up on dialysis and see this man who says he loves me and prays with me…I fell into the Perfect Storm. The way Mickey put it—it all made sense how I could fall into another abusive relationship. And um, fuck Christian Mingle.

Mickey is a nurse and I forget how shocking or jarring it is for people to hear my story the first time around. Yeah, I think about suicide every day. But that doesn’t mean I am going to do it. The most frequent thought—and this is my blog so I am gonna be as honest and blunt as I want—is a gun just blowing my brains out. I would never shoot myself. I am way too vain. But, that would be the easy solution. Boom. No more hurt. Except to those who love me—but I still don’t get it…how can the people I am living for love me so much? I am a burden. Without me, life would be so much easier for them. But I persevere.

Today is Saint Brigid of Ireland’s Feast Day. My Patron Saint. I took her name when I was confirmed. The bishop asked me what I did—as in what I did for a living—I said, “I don’t know. God hasn’t told me yet.”

I’m still waiting for God to tell me. But, maybe he already has. I am taking care of my grandfather. That is no small thing.

“Saint Brigid.
You were a woman of peace.
You brought harmony where there was conflict.
You brought light to the darkness.
You brought hope to the downcast.
May the mantle of your peace cover those who are troubled and anxious, and may peace be firmly rooted in our hearts and in our world.
Inspire us to act justly and to reverence all God has made.
Brigid you were a voice for the wounded and the weary.
Strengthen what is weak within us.
Calm us into a quietness that heals and listens.
May we grow each day into greater wholeness in mind, body and spirit.” Traditional St. Brigid Prayer

St. Brigid, who guided me into the arms of Mother Mary and Christ, hear my prayers that I can’t even articulate…hear my prayers for those I love and who love me…hear my prayers of thanks for all my blessings…forgive my many sins…hear my prayer to see the Golden Sky.

I told Richie and Mickey this week about my life—this is my Truth right now.

I am trying, Dear Hearts, you know I am trying.

Something came to me last night before I went to bed…If I ever want to live a different life than this one, then I have to let go of this life, which includes My House. Cut the anchor.

Easier said than done.

Mickey said something else revelatory—that I didn’t just here overnight, so I am not going to get out of here overnight.

A year ago, I was with T. in his dark little apartment denying the fact that he was an alcoholic. I was taking his abuse every day and tamping myself down. I had chosen his truth over my family’s. So, I guess now, sitting on a bed in my childhood room, listening to Dad’s old movies on the TV, smelling his pipe smoke, hearing the fire crackle, and know that I am going back to The Holy City to take care of G-Pa.—I’m in a helluva lot better place.

I am not waiting for WHEN...this is WHEN. This is my future.

I dreamt Dad and I were Buffalo Hunting last night. There was something about a Buffalo head and an old school building…

The slug I wear around my neck (fashioned as a chic necklace—you wouldn’t know it were a bullet, unless you really knew your bullets) is as important to me as my Cross and Saint Medals. That Bullet is a

(Why the hell is Dad listening to a George Michaels’ song? Maybe GM just covered it…but that was a weird experience…)

That Bullet is a reminder of the day I touched the Face of God.

The sun is coming out. How cliché, right?

Maybe, but thanks anyway God.

It was snowing just a bit ago.

Mickey says I am young. Dad says there are a lot more Buffalo Hunts in our future.

I just wanna find my place…

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: Thank you, Mickey for all your compassion and love.

PPS: I have added two people this week to The Inner Circle of Kate—it feels good. God sends us warriors in all kinds of ways.

PPPS: The Day I Touched The Face of God was a day much like today. God, I am listening…I really am…

PPPPS: Last one I swear. February 2, Imbolc, was the first sabbat I celebrated when I was a Pagan. Christ on a Cracker that was 25 years ago. Life is so strange...And beautiful and ugly.