A Beginning Of Sorts

I wrote this in 2001, and most of it is still true.


Me, 2001

I am…

Mommy, Witch, Poetess, Friend, Lover, Hedonist…in that order.

Everything else seems to branch off from those labels.

Of course there’s more…

I’m unstable. I’m a control freak. I’m a ‘puter junkie, a coffee junkie, a nicotine junkie and a recovering pain junkie.

I have as great a capacity to hex as to heal.

I love too long, forgive too easily and tolerate too much….everyone but myself, that is. I am completely seduced by words. I will believe in a spoken promise long after it’s been broken.

I am a holistic receiver.

I am lupine.

I am a little girl masquerading as a grown up.

I am intensely passionate, sensual, sexual, creative,…

I am tepidly responsible, motivated, ambitious, practical.

I take self awareness,introspection, retrospection and analysis to a whole new level.

I cherish my pain, my tears, my grief as equally as I cherish my joy, my laughter, my memories.

I’m moody. I’m quick to judge. I’m slow to burn.

Silence has always been the way to wound me.

I have had too many children with no sense of responsibility and those parenting chickens are coming home to roost. I was not raised myself, but thrown to the wolves and somehow, against grave odds I survived where my own beloved sister did not.

As a child, I endured every form of abuse on the books…sexual, emotional, physical,  neglect…you name it, I survived it. In my adult life, I endured spousal abuse, rape, ‘abandonment’, therapy, self help groups, the suicide of my sister, the break up of a marriage, finding and losing my first love, and a myriad of other made for t.v type circumstances.

I used to call myself a survivor. I fell right in line with Oprah on that score. I think that was healthy when I was struggling to heal. Now, I am a thriver…a woman who went through a lot throughout her life and came out the other side relatively intact.

I don’t believe that normal is necessarily a good thing. I am not normal. Most normal people find me a little much to wrap their heads around. I tend, therefore, not to appeal to them very much, which is okay because I’m not terribly taken with them either.

I am not a people person, but my friends would argue with me on that. I don’t like crowds and have to force myself to leave the house. I don’t seem to be forcing anything but that’s because I’m an inordinately proud woman and refuse to be pitied. It’s not exactly a phobia, but it’s damn close.

People frighten me. I’ve seen what they are capable of. Even the one’s that look normal. Even the ones that look nice.

My fear has rendered me an intensely lonely person.

I was born with the gift of faith. I have always believed in God, and know Her to be something other than the imposing figure everyone else seemed to be talking about and supplicating to. I am a mystic, but I love the Christ myth. Spirituality is something I try to live…it’s something that upholds me.
Hope has been the only thing preventing me from putting a gun in my mouth.

There have been times when I have desperately prayed for the death of hope.

I have no moral code beyond “Harm None.” Think that’s too easy?? You try living it.

I love music.
I love art.
I love poetry.

I love red wine, Celtic knotwork, Opium perfume, coffee, heavily sugared and laced with cream, beef…bloody, Anne Rice, Richard Bach, the idea of a trip to New Orleans, autumn, Ireland, the Maritime provinces, cotton, silk, seafood, ethnic food, ethnic music, folklore, mangoes, gin, single malt scotch, dark beer, clothes that don’t bind, the color green, beautiful bedrooms, fireplaces, the ocean, self portrait photography, web design, falling in love, and pleasure in all it’s glorious forms,

I’m working extremely hard at loving myself.

I am the blessed recipient of your vision, your faith, your eyes, witnessing my journey, your voice, heard through phone calls, emails, private messages, your ears, that listen into the wee hours of the night, your touch, your perception, your honesty, your presence, your gentle (and not so gentle) criticism, your greetings cards, your encouragement, and support.

As a benefactor of all these things, I am grateful.

In all the years that I’ve been peeling back the layers, I have finally learned how to speak with my own voice…

And this is where I’ll use that voice the most.

Welcome to my world.