This is stuff I have to do alone, it's not yours, and I'm not dragging it to your door.
Radio silence for a while. I don't know how long. If I don't deal with this demon, it's going to eat me alive. Or stare me into a state of catatonic horror. Either way, bad. Have to collapse. Have to rest. Have to just breathe pain and suffer. I'm sitting with it.
Love always always always,
This is difficult I'm sure.
I'm trying to not feel too selfish. I would dearly like for you to share with me. I've missed you. I opened space for you because you seemed to want more space. That space isn't conditional on you being fun or in good health or clear or not going insane. I figure if we're gonna be friends, if we were gonna build something, it would be through all sorts of life changes. Your suffering would not deter me, as my suffering has not deterred you.
I feel vulnerable to you, Claire. I worry that maybe you were a mirage and that maybe I imagined the fact that there could be something more.
I know that this is the voice of my insecurity. But it has been strong for a little while now.
I respect the fact that you need to be on your own with what you're going through. Just know that I'm still here. I'm far away. But I am still here.
Is there something specific that has happened? Maybe you don't want to talk about it but I am still here if you change your mind.
Bye for now, Claire. I love you, too.
Yesterday on yahoo
Subject: Another response too long for Facebook...possibly triggering. Probably triggering. Definitely triggering.
(Just don't read this. Just don't. You have too much to deal with already. Just know that I love you, I care, I'm just done right now. I feel like I'm done for. Really don't read this. I'm going mad. Warning I guess.)
I know. I know. I've missed you too. I'm so sorry. I just...can't. I just can't put out energy I don't have. It's not there. I have felt you opening yourself up, and needing me to be more present. I have felt guilty and horrible as I pulled away. I have felt the need to be more present. The active desire is dead in me right now. I feel disemboweled, emptying. I'm screeching. I'm pouring out blood and excrement. I'm losing people and places and safety and comprehension and sanity left and right. I can't take it. I just can't take it.
I'm afraid. Of you, of me, of us being friends or whatever. I'm afraid. I'm terrified. I'm pissing myself.
I've bitten off way more than I can chew here. Especially now. I'm overwhelmed. I am completely overwhelmed.
You have done nothing wrong. It's all me. I can't take it.
You trigger me...you trigger me because you ARE me. You are as honest and raw as it gets, more so than me actually. It's scary. I feel like in certain ways I'm looking into my future. I'm so frightened I want to curl up in a ball and suck my thumb. I know I can't handle what you deal with daily. Not now. Not ever? I never could. Could I? Here I am in this privileged pansy-ass position and I'm already losing my marbles. I'm already dead. I'm a shell. Am I?
I am afraid that I'll look into your eyes and see the same horrifying uncertainty I feel in mine. I'm afraid of how huge these emotions are. I can't take a breath. I can't breathe. They are breaking into me. They are taking me apart. I would give an appendage for a sufficient distraction right now. It feels like death is imminent. Maybe this is just how it feels.
I'm afraid you'll see me and see brokenness and pathetic disgustingness. I'm afraid you'll reject me. I'm afraid I'm not good enough.
I've been trying to tell myself that they're just feelings. They won't kill me. But they feel physical, like pounding and stabbing. My ears feel full of blood, my head feels full of spoiled meat. I can't find joy or happiness or even the most meager pleasure anywhere. Just death, death, death, death, DEATH.
It feels like the end. This feels like the end. My end. I can't take my own life, but the alternative seems worse. Inching through my days gasping for air until I finally die. No. NO. I can't live like that. What's the alternative, though? I can't die. I won't die. My body won't fucking die. It goes on. It insists on continuing. Where does that leave me? Where does that leave you? Us? Ryo? Eddie? Anyone?
You just lost your father, Tonia. You just stared death in the eye in a massive, profound way. I know you have been tormented...maybe by questions not unlike this. That's another thing. You're afraid. You're broken. You're dealing with impending death and doom, too. You seem to be dealing better, but how would I know? I'm not in your head. I can read your blog, but your blog is not being inside your mind. It's a good indicator, perhaps, but it's not the same. Reading you is not being you.
Maybe there is no better. Maybe we all just crawl. Maybe we all inch. Maybe there has never and will never be any other way. Fucking fuck. FUCK. This is it? This is all? This is LIFE? It can't be. It fucking just can't be. It was supposed to be something else. Anything else.
Then I remember that there are no supposed to be's. They're all lies. I don't believe them anymore. The protective coating has melted away, and the vaccum of space is all that remains. I can't face it. I can't face life knowing that's all there is.
There's no direction. No map. No plan. Every day is inch forward towards death. Routine and stress and not enough money. No safety. No comfort. No rest. No peace. Then death.
There's nothing lonlier. Nothing scarier. Nothing more excruciating than confronting the utter pointlessness of your existence.
You are stronger than me. You are smarter than me. You have more integrity and honestly and intelligence and grounding and everything in your pinky nail than I do in my whole being. You are astounding. You are a true survivor. You are so fucking amazing...it boggles me. I try to understand where you come from...and I can't. I can't even understand it. You scramble my brain and perception of reality. It's good, but it's draining for me. I am not energized by deep emotional contact. I am drained by it. Our last conversation was like open-heart surgery with no anasthesia for me (probably was for you too!). I can't explain it better any other way. I am so profoundly messed up.
You are not selfish. I am. I am being selfish. I am being selfish because it's the last coping strategy I've got. I have actively shrunk from you, because I'm on full on basic operating survival mode. One more system crash and it's the blue screen of death...whatever that means...I don't know...I know I'm on the brink and something very, very bad is on the other side.
I'm about to snap. In half. I can't speak honestly or be honestly or work honestly. I feel choked by lies and falseness.
I'm not a mirage...I'm tired. I'm sick. I'm weak. I'm so fragile and vulnerable and horrified. I don't know what to do anymore. There's nobody left. There's nothing left.
I told Eddie last night that I felt like I should have died in the accident. I feel like I'm not supposed to be here...like I've overstayed my welcome somehow...ever see watch the Show Dead Like Me? Ever see the episode where the main character refused to reap the little girl's soul, and her 'boss' had to come do it for her, told her that souls that go unreaped rot inside the bodies of the people who are supposed to have died?
That's what this is like. I feel like I'm rotting from the inside out...and from the outside in, and every other way. I can't eat or sleep. Even my juices smell rancid. My brain feels like an iron ball of deadness in my head. Oh Tonia, Tonia, it's unbearable...and what makes it weirdly worse is that I know you get this...I know you've been in this exact spot...you won't tell me it gets better like every other fool out there...you won't lie. It doesn't get better. It's like a thick fog of suffering that continuously surrounds you...you especially. I can't even fathom where you are...I just can't. That's why I don't want to do this. You are already suffocating. I can't offer you my need for oxygen...it feels terrible. I know it's wrong...but how else do we connect/bond? Traumatic bonding is all I know. It's all I understand.
I can't leech support from someone who's floundering in her own way. I can't pull you under to save myself. That's what it feels like I'm doing...
I know you want me to come as I am, and I want to come as I am. But I feel like a lot of what I'm bringing doesn't belong where you want to go. Where you are. I feel like you're past it and it's useless to you. It won't add to your life, bring you an peace or anything good. Maybe I'm wrong about that. I don't know. I don't know what's right or wrong anymore...I feel completely ruined by sorrow, need...I'm fucking lousy with it.
I feel like a fucking asshole for ever writing this. You have way too many of your own sorrows to bear. Way too many. Eddie even suggested I 'latch onto you', siphon your energy to survive. I balked. He doesn't know what he's saying. I think it's what he does...affixes himself to people to get by. I think it's what I used to do. I think it's something I don't even know how to help doing. I...don't want to do that to you. I don't want to do that to anyone. I don't want to be a cancerous lesion. I can't do that to you...that's why I didn't want to write this...though even writing this feels like doing it...
Tonia, you and I lived different lives. You learned to take care of yourself young. You shouldn't have had to. You grew up way before your time. You became self-sufficient on your own terms. I deeply admire and envy this. I can't do it. Every time I've tried, I fail so miserably that I come crawling back ever quicker to what I knew before. Even though there's no safety or solace there either, at least it's familiar. I've been somebody's child my entire life. My father's child, my grandmother's child, my lover's child...I've been the entertaining whirlwind of petulance so long I don't know anything else...everything else terrifies me. I don't want to be an adult in a world like this. I don't want to live in a world like this. I'm cracking.
I don't know what's next. I don't know how to move beyond it. I don't know how to create something new...from what? From emptiness? From garbage? And even if I did have something good to built with, what would I build? There's nothing. Nothing comes to me. Everything that does is tained.
You seem so healthy in ways I can't understand. You seem so sound, so solid. I know you struggle. But you seem to bounce back so much more quickly and more resoundingly. Maybe it's because you had to raise yourself, literally. You came by this through hard living, hard learning, and a lot of self-reflection and inner work. I'm not there. I'm looking at the size of the task. I'm taking it in. I'm freaking out. It's too big. It's too much. I don't know what to do with all of it.
Maybe this is all stuff you go through, and you only seem more...everything because I'm not yet in a place to not idealize those I admire/like/love? Maybe I have to grow the fuck up and stop doing this...treat you like a human being and not a demi-god? What an uncomfortable, awkward place to be in.
I know part of it...is racism. Swinging to the other end of the spectrum to avoid dealing with the latent racism inherent in our every interaction. I know a lot of it is this. I know you're aware that I am not exactly, uh, evolved. I have a fledgling race consciousness. I pushing myself to grow. Things are getting unfamiliar.
That's all me.
Ryo...there's no saving him. He'll be lost to manhood. No matter what I do, what I say, what type of fucking example I set for him...the game has already been played. I've already lost. *He* has already lost. He'll grow to benignly hate and barely tolerate me (or actively hate, if his father decides to push him that way for whatever it is I'm doing or not doing right...I'd like to hope Juan would never do this, but I honestly can't put it past him...he doesn't know better, I don't think), and/or only know how to suck and take from me like every other male child, male person. There's no way out. I can't stop it. I don't know how.
I have been debating within myself since the day he was born, and especially lately, whether or not to continue raising him. I don't want to abandon him, and I don't think I could ever leave him. I love him so much. I ache with love for him. But I don't know what to offer him that isn't pain. I don't know how to make a life for either of us that isn't saturated with pain and suffering. I don't want my life for him. I don't want my parenting for him. I want him to be happy and deliriously in love with life. I don't have that to give. I have a shitload of confusion and pain. Sometimes I feel like I'd rather eat my car exhaust, or just lie in a dirty pile until I starve to death than bring that to him. I don't want him to know how painful life is. My life. I don't want him to know this. Know me. I can't bear him feeling these things. I just want him to stay little and innocent and protected by that. I feel so helpless, hopeless. So owned by sadness.
Would he be better off without me? With nobody but his father for guidance? Of course not. Ugh. There's no way. There's no way out. He is torn between the two of us. Torn between two homes and two families and two totally different ways of being and dealing and looking at life. What will he learn? Where will he go? What will he do? Who will he choose? Will he feel safe? Loved? Will he feel torn? Will it be normal to him, or will it confuse the living fuck out of him? Will he hate me, Juan, both of us? Juan's not open to working with me to raising him like a girl...gentle, kind, seeing women as fellow human beings instead of tools to use...Ryo will prioritize his words over mine, patriarchy will see to that...
Patriarchy is what got me here. I started to sense the enormity of it. Started to sense how wildly out of control everything is. Started to let the madness creep in...and it swallowed me.
There's no predicting what will happen. There's no certainty. There's only tomorrow. An endless procession of tomorrows.
I don't know how to be in a healthy relationship. I don't know what it feels like or tastes like or smells like. I don't know what to do now. I feel like every move I make will be a stumble, every word out of my mouth poison and everything I do is tainted.
You are not responsible for my pain. For fixing me or making me feel better. Those are my responsibilities. I...just don't know how to do that, try to heal, in whatever way I can manage, AND be a friend...or an anything. A lover. A parent. An employee. A person.
Ryo's father is an asshole of colossal proportions whose continued fuckery is driving me insane. I can't stop him. He has every. ounce. of control in the situation. He makes all the rules. I can scream, cry, and beg all I want, on my half and on Ryo's behalf, but he's going to do exactly as he pleases. We are both going to suffer for it. We are both already suffering for it. I don't think he really has any idea what he's doing. I think he's just doing what he thinks should be done. Maybe he doesn't care.
Since I was very young I've always felt like I wouldn't live very long...I've always felt like I didn't really want to...I didn't understand why I felt like this then. I understand it a hell of a lot more now.
All the heavy emptiness the break with my family has left a hole too big for every star in the universe to fill. Without the dysfunction and lies, it's howling nothingness. It's torn a hole so, so big...it can't heal and it won't heal and
These past few years have been way, way, way too much for me to handle alone. I have to deal with everything alone and I can't stand it anymore. I'm everybody's hinge, everybody's support, everybody's ace in the hole and THERE'S NOTHING LEFT. THEY'VE TAKEN EVERYTHING. I've managed to distract myself enough to keep going, but the distractions are running out/losing their luster. I can't run from what's happened anymore. The emptiness is devouring my flesh.
We all deal with these things in the ways that feel safest and most sane to us. Dropping off the face of the planet feels safest and most sane to me...but it's what I always do. Everything is always there when I come back. Nothing gets resolved when I go AWOL...I just get a little break, and the pile of putrescent garbage is right where I left it.
I love you. I love Eddie. I love my son. I have no idea what any of it means anymore, if I ever did.
I exist, which is the only thing I can say for certain.
I'm reading it. I'll read anything, ANYTHING you send me, Claire. Okay...going back to read now. Hugs...
I wish you could just come to me. I'd so dearly like to hold you now. You're right, I can't fix you. I can't fix this. But I'd dearly like to be there for you. I don't know if you want to here this, it's so obvious part of you probably already realizes it. You're transitioning. You're morphing. It's just that inside the crucible it's awful It feels like shit. Torn and pulled, hopeless, not able to see past the now...it's horrific...so painful. I get what you're talking about. I've been there before. As I type the times I've literally been shreiking, a mad lady shell rolled up in a ball begging, hoping for someone to come and fucking put a gun to my head, just fucking put me out of my howling, miserable pathetic tormented existence...
But no one came.
I had to sit inside it. Feel my way through it. Breathe in the bile and the shit and the piss and feel the toxins inhabit me. Be so ultra conscious of the sickness, the cancer...
Not knowing if I was going to make it...not wanting to make it...paralyzed internally...a mess of rot and rage and hurt and fear...
I told Papi today that I feel anxious. I feel anxious a lot. I live with constant anxiety. It started when I was with my crazed dry drunk abusive and btormented ex the biker Black lesbian violence against wimmin worker who everyone thought was hot and wonderful. I lived in daily fear of her coming home re-traumatized and unable to speak to it or deal with it. I knew she came to displace what she was feeling onto me, to shove it into me to fuck me with it and scare my soul. I lived in daily fear of the scars she seemed so capable and willing to inflict...scars that could not be seen. Towards the end I started medicating myself with cold and flu medication so that when she got home I was to dosey to really emotionally connect with what she was doing.
By the time I actually left her I was a mess of horrible confliction, not knowing whether I was coming or going, not sure if I even wanted to live. unexpected knocks at the door caused me to jump with surprise.
I've lived with anxiety pretty much since then.
When I left her I was a tormented mess. Horribly confused about what it meant to be me, a Black identified feminist S/M dyke. The answers I thought I had no longer made sense. I was literally coming apart at the seams. I was thirty when I finished that relationship. I'm forty one now and I'm in the end part of that process now. There was a lot I chose to leave behind. There was a lot of me I literally had to cut out, cut away so I could survive.
Claire, I had been in that place where I felt as if I was going to either kill myself, find someone who would or just plain old deconstruct at a cellular level.
I've slashed myself with scalpels before. That offered no release or relief.
I've howled. That was better.
I've screamed. Good, as well.
I've talked. But inside of incestuous little communities of resistance that just got me laughed at when the people I thought I could trust put what I told them out on the power and popularity based community open market.
Writing has worked best. As you know, a lot of my tortured writing is angry cussing writing. I've got to vent the putrid puss somewhere. I've go to sream it out, cuss it out, vomit it. I share what I will and don't bother myself with who sees so much anymore. It was silencing me.
Claire, have you ever done readings about the stages of birth?
There's a physiological place called transition where most mothers who are birthing vaginally get to where they literally believe they are going to be torn apart, that they are incapable of birthing, that they made a mistake, that they need to get away, that they need to stop tha damned donkey and get off. When they're in that place, when we're in that place there's no telling us that this is a sign of movement. There's no telling us there is coming out the other side. There's just us, nervous, uncertain, crazed, pained balls of pulsating flesh crying for some goddess mama to come take all the pain away.
Lovely...tears...hang on. Hang on! You're in it. You're there. I'm not going to tell you that when you come to Eddie is going to be any different. I'm not going to tell you that Juan will have suddenly become the perfect anti-patriarchal co-parent. I won't even tell you that Ryo's options will automatically be any better.
But you'll be different again. Every time you go into this place, if you don't fight it, if you just let it come and wash over you, you'll come out the other side different. You will always be more...more of who you already are, bits and piecs crystalized. Not all airy fairly new agey. But just...I can't explain it...changed by the journey, as horrible as it seems.
The world will not change. You're right. The human world will not cease to be an icky fucked up messed up idiotic place overall. I won't tell you that systems of domination will automatically evaporate.
But this is growth, Claire. Seeing the mess, staring it in the eye, understanding your part in it, listening to what you're here to do...discovering what that is...this is the life process. It's not much. But then again, it's massive.
You're in saturn return, Claire. Look it up. It's right on time. It happens. It's the gateway from your twenties into your thirties. It happens for all of us. Come out the other side. I can't tell you how. It's a mystery. It is a secret only you will be able to finally know. But come out the other side.
Claire, be safe. Be well. All my blessings to you and yuors. Peace to you.
There were no words to describe what I'm going through, or what this message meant to me. I almost burst into sloppy tears at work yesterday when I received it. It didn't take the pain away, nothing can of course, but it gave me a window into myself, and a chance at understanding what is happening. That did help. It is even harder to endure this when you can't understand what's going on, why.
I went through this after the accident to an extent. I went through this after having Ryo, but in a totally different place, time, and headspace. This is a very different situation I'm dealing with it in now. I think that every time I've tried to leave my family, leave my life of irresponsibility and denial behind, something like this has happened. The walls came down. Each time I would lose my mind and run home, in one way or another. It was too heavy, too much. I couldn't take it. I couldn't take losing the only world I'd ever known. The burden lifting, the curtain lifting felt torurous. I didn't want to let go.
I think I can now. I am trying. I think I can handle it now. I am trying. I think this is growing up. It fucking hurts, like nothing has ever hurt before.
It's really hit home the past few months that there's no going back. My childhood is over. Isn't that insane? I'm 30 years old, and I'm still breaking that barrier. My adulthood is halfway through, and I'm just getting started. I have so much to learn. So many skills to acquire that I haven't yet acquired. It's all do-able...it's just there's so much catch-up to play. So much work to do. So many, many miles to go...
I talked to my boss at work. She was very kind and understanding. She said she's been here, too. She's about the same age as you, and was once married to a very mentally ill, very emotionally abusive person. She said by the time she got out, she didn't know who she was anymore. She said counseling helped. Eddie is helping me look for feminist counselors I can talk to. I think it may be very beneficial for me. I'm hoping so.
She was also once a vitamin salesperson, and gave me some advice on how to eat better and which vitamins could help me feel better and why. She's been great. :)
In so many ways I still feel like a wide-eyed teenager. Sometimes I still feel that old starry-eyed-edness that makes the world feel so new, so unknowable. Sometimes this makes me feel hopeful, but the older I get, and lately...it's made me feel afraid. Afraid for myself, for Ryo. If I can't care for myself, if I don't know how...then I can't care for him. That can't happen. I must learn. There's no more time to fuck around.
Saturn return. I'm going to look that up now. I do know that turning 30 was huge for me. Huge. It felt like a deep shift. At the time, it was a happy one...or at least, not feeling like I was being torn apart. I didn't know that others experienced this...at all, but much less like what I'm going through.
I did a bit of reading on transition while pregnant, but it's been a long time. Thank you for the reminder...the description was dead on. I felt like I was coming apart. I still feel unstable and shaky, but a bit more centered. Wobbly, but functioning. It's a weird place I'm in...nothing feels real.
The actual experience of labor transition was very, very traumatizing...as was labor overall. I don't know how things would've went if I'd have stayed at home and not run to a hospital...but I think in the end it would've been much the same. The experience itself was a total meltdown of all barriers and borders between what I thought I knew, reality, and there was oceans of pain, emotional as well as physical. At the hospital...the pain, the feeling exposed, the doctors prying, pushing hands...ugh. The nurses cold, mean stares and even colder, meaner words...ugh.
More reading is needed. More thinking and researching and exploration. As always.
Eddie and me had a long discussion the night this started about how the patriarchy was like the Matrix. A prison you could neither smell, taste, touch, nor see. But if you became aware of certain things, you could sense something was wrong with the world. What makes you crazy is not knowing what. What makes you crazier is taking the red pill and finding out. I feel like I've taken the red pill, Tonia. There's no going back now. No plugging back in.
This knowledge sucked me down, down, down...so far under I didn't know where I was anymore. It hit me all at once. It knocked me down. I'm reeling.
I think you get this completely. I know you do. I think you're much farther along the road than I am. I think you are so dumbfoundingly brave. This is so big. It so consuming. To even attempt to deal with it requires courage of the highest caliber. You amaze me! It's dizzying.
I'd remembered that you'd gone through some abusive relationships in the past, but I didn't remember the specifics. I'm so sorry. I understand what it's like to be at the mercy of someone's unresolved issues every time they come home from work. My dad, a few exes...it's horrible. That you had to medicate yourself to get through it is just awful. I'm hugging you mentally right now. I so know that place. I so know the damage it can cause.
Feelilng like I don't know who I am...yes. Very much this. Who I am, why I'm here, what the point is, what my place is...too much.
I'm right smack in the middle of that damage, at least partly. There's blood and my guts all over the place. Lots and lots of cleaning and caring and healing to do.
I think I understand about cutting out, leaving behind to survive. Cutting out needs, expectations, rules, people, whatever you need to, just to keep going...going over internal inventory...looking at what can go and what can stay, and who...stuff does build up, and feel sick and cancerous.
I can't believe people actually laughed at you when you shared with them! Oh Tonia...that's the worst. The worst possible thing anyone can ever do when you're hurting is to laugh at you. Fuck that, fuck them. No wonder you pulled away. Ran away screaming. I would have, too.
I've suffered with anxiety since I was a child. I didn't know what to call it then...but I'd have these moments of desperation and overwhelming fear. I'd always find something to distract me, or think of something that made me feel better...but as I've aged, this has been harder and harder to do. It's been building for so long...
I'll make it. The tunnel is not endless. I've survived it before, I've survived other things...I'll make it. I don't know how...but I will. Your words and presence and support have helped tremendously.
I'm here for you, too, T.J. I'm fragile right now, I'm slipping. But I'm finding my footing. I'm still here. :)
Thank you again from the bottom of my heart for reaching out to me. I needed it beyond desperately. Thank you for sharing your experiences and what worked for you. I appreciate it, and you, beyond any articulation. :)
I'm glad something I wrote offered some support. What's happening for you is painful. I'm glad Eddie is going to help you track down a counsellor. I think counselling is so crucial. Not just in crisis situations but just generally when we know we're carrying lots of stuff. Maybe in the meantime if there is a university near you there might be a crisis counsellor at a wimmin's center who can meet with you until you find someone permanent. You might also want to try a rape crisis center as you're a survivor. They would probably see you, too.
I had to giggle when you wrote about your adulthood being half over. Claire you have just come out of childhood at 30. You're biologically a woman but at that point most of us are still trying to figure out what that means in practical terms. We still need parenting. I know I did. I think that's one of the difficult things about the young mamas movement. At twenty or twenty five or twenty eight a woman is still taking in information after having just left their/our crazed families and homes and teenage hood a few years earlier, we're still learning.
The thirties turns all we thought we figured out, what we hastily pasted together, artificial rules and ways of being we thought would take the place of parents and family...the thirties turns all that upside down. When we realize that there is nothing solid around us we usually freak. Saturn return lasts a few years. It doesn't just poof happen. so really you're still transitioning into your thirties.
At 30 with ten years of adulthood under your belt you've got probably another fifty years to go. You're not half done. You've just begun.
At 40 I'm only ten years ahead. I'm trying to use what I learned in my twenties and thirties to make something real for myself. I'm still learning. I'll always be learning.
Herbals and homeopathics are not horribly expensive. I've suggested them before. I think they're really useful and help maintain balance in the body and in the spirit. Even just getting some nice fragrant oils if you like scents. Not so much to wear but to diffuse in your place or in your room. You might enjoy the calming effect.
I know you're here for me, Claire. You have been here. I know you're not feeling solid right now. But I think you're right on time and doing fine in the grand scheme of things.
Oh! And can I share our conversation on the blog? I really appreciate what we've shared in the past few years. I think our lives are very different but I've always watched and read you with absolute giggly happiness at what you're willing to share. Hugs and much love, Claire. You know we don't have to be all lesbianly. We could be amazing friends and family. That's fine for me, too.
Busy right now at work so no time to respond in depth, but wanted to say I got this and read it. Chewing it over. Thinking.
What you said about just leaving childhood at 30 is something that is blowing my mind, just blowing it. I never thought of it that way at all...when I do it feels differently. The way I think about my life feels different.
Thank you again. Will try the suggestions about homeopathics and herbals, and scents. I'm open to trying different things to help me cope right now.
I'll wait for your response before I post anything, okay? I really am glad there's stuff there that gave you pause to think. In terms of homeopathic and naturopathic remedies Rescue Remedy might be a good one as it is a crisis situations. Oregano a really good infection and cold preventative.Even sage as a ritual tool and incense are really good, too. Hugs. Love, Tonia.
You may absolutely post our conversations. Yes. :)
Thank you again for all the suggestions, will be looking them up tonight! :)