Follow-up on Previous Post

Ok.  I reviewed my notes and found the original epiphany I found that I wrote down for myself.  Here it is:

“Fear of happiness.  I am afraid to let go and fully embrace an ecstatic path because I do not know how to cede control.  I need to learn to cede control and give things over to nature and deity.”

In a nutshell: pretty much what I posted in my previous entry, but in the exact words as they came to mind.  I even have about 10 boxes surrounding it and a ton of stars.  My way of saying “REMEMBER THIS AND PAY ATTENTION, STUBBORN ASS!!”

Short and sweet entry here.  Time for me to go do a little “work” on this block. 🙂

In frith,


Hello, Phoenix & Inner Self

Well, here we are in Phoenix and moved into our new apartment.  Ok…maybe not MOVED in (our stuff is currently somewhere over the Pacific in transit).  But we are here, and we have a roof over our heads.  Here we are smack in the middle of the civilian sector.  After 12 years either serving in or working for the Air Force, this is new terrain for us.  A new yet old experience.  I think it’s hard for us both to remember far enough back to fully remember what it’s like having “normal” jobs.  But it seems to be a good fit for us so far.  I know both of us will miss the Air Force lifestyle and the constant moving around.  I have no doubt that both of us will experience a touch of wanderlust in about two to three years.  And who knows…there could come an opportunity in that time for us to relocate for bigger jobs.  Who knows what will fall into our laps when we work for it.

So…while my husband is busy working at his new job at Channel 12 here in Phoenix, I’m “busy” taking a break from the chaos of Marketing and gathering myself back together.  I’ll be staying home and being a “temporary housewife” for the next few months so I can recover from burning the candle at both ends.  I’m also using the break as an opportunity to focus on areas of my life and my self that need improving, but I never made time for because I was too worried and preoccupied with my professional self.

I’m taking another class with Francesca De Grandis (my teacher whom I have written about on several occasions here).  I’ve only been in two classes this session, but I am already feeling the effects.  It’s amazing how much self-reflection you can do when you don’t have to focus on deadlines, orders, surveys, and all the other things that happen behind the curtains in Marketing.  Honestly, the self-reflection began several months ago, but I always pushed it aside because I felt that my career took priority, that it defined me.  I worked so hard to reach my goals, I completely put the rest of myself on hold.  What a HUGE mistake.  The fact I was so preoccupied with that speaks volumes on its own.  I completely sacrificed my spiritual and inner self for my career self. *sigh*  Why do we do this?

Anyhow…on to my biggest moment of self-reflection thus far.  I’m going to come back to sacrificing spiritual and inner self to career at a later time.  It’s something I’m still mulling around in my head.

During our first class last week, I had an epiphany.  (Don’t expect me to share what we were talking about specifically.  It’s not going to happen.  I am simply going to relate MY thoughts).  I made a comment about being afraid of happiness.  I don’t know why that specific thought decided to come into my mind at that precise moment, but there it was.  I think I dumbfounded myself.  I thought about it for a moment in class, then brought myself back to what was being said by Francesca and my fellow students.  But the thought sat in the back of my mind for the remainder of class.  I jotted my thought down on my tablet so I could remember the precise phrase that came to mind (I have it written down still, and I’ll share it at some point, but I forgot to bring my notepad with me on my way to write this).  My thought was this:  I am afraid of happiness not in the sense that I am afraid of it in general…I am afraid of screwing it up.

I grew up in a manner that was difficult and challenging.  I don’t regret it.  I don’t judge it.  I am thankful for it.  After all, if I didn’t have the childhood I had, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.  I love the woman I am today.  BUT…the manner in which I grew up required perseverance, hard work, independence at an early age.  CONTROL of the things around me…of my life.  And that is what this fear boils down to.  I am afraid to CEDE control in my life.  Yes, when I was younger, I was VERY afraid of what happiness was because I didn’t truly KNOW it.  There was always turmoil.  There was always a fight to be had (whether for survival, with a person, etc.). NOTHING came easily (not that it always should).  As I became older and I worked for the people and things in my life, I did become more comfortable and accepting of “happiness.”  I realized that not everything had to be fought for.  That sometimes you can just go with the flow and just BE HAPPY.  But that whole part of ceding control would bother me to no end.  I AM a control freak.  No so much regarding others…but regarding ME and MY life.  I CONTROL MY OWN FATE!  And I do very much believe that is true…that I control my own fate.  But…BUT…don’t we sometimes need to cede control in order to gain a better view of the bigger picture?  Putting control into the hands of someone other than myself is my weakness.  In many cases.  Not always.  But I find that my unwillingness to just throw my hands to the wind and say, “OK!!  IT’S OUT OF MY CONTROL!!!  DO YOUR THING GODDESS!” hinders me.  It hinders my progress.  It hinders my ability to perceive. To listen. To speak. To fully…BE.  It also hinders me in other facets of life.  It hinders my profession.  It hinders the full potential of my marriage.  It hinders my relationship with people.  With other living things.   It is a block.  A big, huge, massive, concrete, ugly block.  It is a block I NEED to get rid of.  To wash away.  And it’s something that is sooooo engrained in me, so much of a part of my psyche that the very thought of cleansing this block terrifies me.  Again, the control.  You see the pattern here?  Despite knowing that I could reach a level of enlightenment and inner peace and bringing myself closer to myself and to deity, I am still stubborn and don’t want to give away my control.  How frustrated I am with myself.  And this is precisely why this block needs to be washed away.  Control is good.  The extent of the control I wish to have over my own life is unhealthy.

So, this is where I am.  I have been sitting on the fence for a few months, and now I am ready to take the plunge.  Am I still scared?  Yup!  But if I don’t take that plunge, I will continue hurting myself.  The next few months are going to be difficult, but they are also going to be liberating and beautiful.  This has been in the making for a long time.  Now it is time.  I pray that I can cede control  yet maintain control.  I pray for a balance that is needed in myself and in my universe.

In frith,


Word Vomit: Wading Through Grief

So…..I’ve been trying to formulate the words in my head, but I always end up losing my thoughts. So much to say about the last two months and the torrential downpour my emotions have become….so I’m going to do what my mentor and teacher, Francesca, says to do: “Say it badly.”

A little background, because what I’m about to say is very personal and painful. But I know there are others like me, suffering in the same manner as I am…

I have been reading Francesca De Grandis’ books for some time. She is a pagan, witch, shaman, and wonderful person. For any of my pagan followers, she is the creator of The Third Road , a Faerie Tradition.  This is the path I also follow.
The books of hers I’ve read are listed under my Good Reads page.  More books of hers I’m working on are soon to follow.

I recently began taking tele-seminars with Francesca, and as part of that training, she is available for one-on-ones, which is priceless.  I had my first one-on-one with her this weekend.  It was soul-opening.

So, that being said, here is more background on what is happening:

I lost my mother on June 2. This year. It’s very fresh for me. My mother raised me mainly as a single mother. She and my father divorced when I was one year old. She later remarried and divorced again by the time I was five. She didn’t marry again until I was around nine or so. The last husband split on us, took all of my mother’s savings, and left us high and dry…homeless. My mother and I were close. She was my best friend, confidante, hero, and other things I can’t possibly express. She was my one safe haven. I was free from judgment. I could be myself. She gave me the freedom to be whom I wanted and needed to be. I am also her only child. The grief I feel is incomparable. I feel as though a piece of me died with her. I’m actually writing this as I’m gazing over my laptop and looking at her urn. I received it via registered mail on Friday. I should probably mention I live in South Korea, a half a world away from where my mother was. My home. California. I’m looking at all that physically remains of my maternal soul mate. It’s gut wrenching.

When mom’s ashes arrived on Friday I finally lost it. I stood at the post office window, where one of our nation’s finest, an Airman in the USAF, brought me the box holding my mother’s remains. I cried on the spot. I broke down in public. Everything just started pouring out. He looked at me rather confused, and I could only say, “It’s my mom.” The poor guy was utterly speechless. It’s hard sometimes for people to express sympathy or empathy, especially with something so huge. But he did manage to say to me, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Then he returned to silence.

I cried to the car. I cried my way through the store as I picked up a few things I needed to get through the weekend. I cried my way home, up 13 flights, and into my apartment. I cried as I opened the package and gently unwrapped my mother. I set her on the hutch area in my dining room, and I just looked at her. And I talked to her. I cried to her. I let it all out. The only problem was I couldn’t hear her voice. I couldn’t feel her arms around me. I couldn’t see her. And I got angry. So angry.

So, here I am now writing this blog. With my notorious word vomit.

Francesca (my aforementioned mentor and teacher) and I communicate regularly via Twitter. She knows what I’m going through. And I’m told she understands and knows my pain. I believe her. I trust her. So….through Twitter and through classes I’m also taking with her (I’m now on my fourth), we’ve talked a little bit about the trauma I’ve endured since mom died to date. And she offered to have one-on-one time with me in a spiritual lesson…a little faith healing if you will. That’s what I like to call it. I’m sure she also refers to it as shamanism. 🙂

So, we scheduled a time to speak, and when we did speak, it was powerful. Turns out the feelings I’ve written about are only the tip of the iceberg. For those unfamiliar with Francesca, when you do work with her, she channels. She is in trance. And what she is able to feel/see/sense is uncanny. She’s amazing.

There were many things we discussed, but one piece is prominent in my mind. Something that just rings so true! Francesca sensed that a large portion of me feels as though showing my feelings requires permission (for lack of better terms). I thought about it for a minute, and it hit me: WHAM! “Of course I feel that way!!!” See, I lived with a very strong woman. A woman who stayed strong for me, never let me see her falter. A woman who held the family together the best she could (until recent years and a very toxic addition to the family), when my grandmother passed away 15 years ago. Grandma was the glue that held the family together, and I was just as close to her as I was my mother. Only now can I appreciate the closeness of my mother and her mother. How devastating grandma’s loss was to mom. Of course, I was heartbroken and devastated over grandma’s death, but nothing compared to what my mom must have been feeling. I tell you: my mother kept her shit together! I didn’t see her cry one single time when we went back for grandma’s memorial (except during the memorial). My mother didn’t fall apart until after we’d returned to California and my subsequent departure to Nevada, where I was living at the time. She never let me see her fall apart. And not to diminish my mother’s strength or effectiveness as a good mother, I learned that through her. I don’t fall apart in public (except on Friday. That was awkward.). I keep my emotions in check around people. I keep my emotions in check at work. I even keep my emotions in check when I am at home and no one is here. I just keep my emotions in check. Period. And in this case, I did so because I am my mother’s only living heir. Her only blood relative who showed up when she passed. All of a sudden, I was in her role. I was the adult this time. I had to take care of everything this time. I had to hold it together. For her. No family was there, but I had to hold it together for her. To make sure she was taken care of. To make sure her wishes were followed. To make sure that if she was watching over me, she could see she created a strong woman of me. I thought, “I will make her proud. I will show her I can keep my head on my shoulders.” I never had a full breakdown. I cried at her memorial, yes, but not the whole time. I cried up in Oregon visiting my father and my step-mother and siblings. But I always stopped. I never let myself hit “critical mass.” I never fell apart. Because, you know, if you fall apart that means you’re not strong. Strong people don’t fall apart. Yeah, ok. I’m challenging that completely archaic and asinine belief. I said to Francesca in our session, “Who says that falling apart and picking yourself back up again means you can’t be strong?!”

Well, after hanging up with her, the thoughts and feelings that had just started to boil to the top just poured over. They wouldn’t stop coming. I lost my mom.  I was already crying on the phone, but by the time we hung up, the session with Francesca had opened the door for me. The floodgates I built up to hold my emotions in check opened. I couldn’t stop crying. And I couldn’t stop being angry. I couldn’t stop thinking, “who the hell is anyone to tell me I’m not strong!?” Oooooh……you don’t even know what strength is until you fall apart! And that’s when the anger kicked in. I started getting angry at everything. I got angry with the gods. I got angry with myself. I got angry with my mother. I got angry with the fates. I sat in my living room and screamed, “Why?! Why take my mother so early?! Fuck you! Keep throwing it at me! I will make it through this!” I was genuinely pissed off at everything. I still am. Of course, anger isn’t an emotion on its own . It’s usually present because of a different emotion: fear, betrayal, what have you.  There’s something underneath the anger.

I figured out I am angry because I am afraid. I am afraid of what my life is going to be like without mom. I’m afraid because now I truly have to stand on my own two feet. Granted, I’ve lived overseas without my mother near me for 12 years now. I know what it’s like to live on my own. I just don’t know how to live on my own. I don’t know what to do without getting mom’s input first. Don’t get me wrong. I can make decisions on my own, obviously. I’m essentially an expatriate, only not really because I work for the US Government. I’ve just been overseas a long time. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her input on those huge life changing experiences or decisions. I always asked for her advice, even if I didn’t follow it. I’m good about listening to the input then taking it into consideration. If it’s the better choice, then I’ll follow it. If not, then I don’t. What I’m afraid of is: living life without my mom. Yes, death is a part of life. I knew she would pass eventually. I didn’t expect it to be at 58 years old because of a heart attack due to pneumonia. I didn’t expect her to never go home again after she suffered a major stroke a little over a year ago. I didn’t expect it to be so soon. She was so young. Too young!!! I am afraid.

I’m angry because I feel betrayed. The most important person in my life was taken away from me.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the goddess. I love several goddesses from several pantheons. It’s kind of like family….and what my mother and I always used to say to each other when we were mad at each other: “I may not always like you, but I always love you.”

To be honest, I feel cheated. I feel that my mother was cheated.  She won’t be alive when I ever remarry.  To greet her first grandchild when I have a child. I felt the goddess robbed me of more time with my mom.  I also felt guilty for moving away from my mother.  I felt guilty for not moving back to the states.  My mother didn’t want me to.  Of course she wanted her baby with her, but she always told me, “I’m your past, not your future.”  Mom…I have this to say to you: You were everything to me! Mom didn’t want me to stop my career to be at home and take care of her.  She didn’t want that life for me.  And that’s something that some people in my family don’t understand.  About her or about me.   I FEEL BETRAYED! I feel betrayed by the Great Mother. Now here is where the Catholic guilt kicks in (yes, I was raised Catholic for a time). *Gasp!* “You’re not supposed to get angry with God!” Yeah, well I am. Deal with it. I love the Great Mother. But I am angry. I know…I keep saying that. Maybe if I do keep saying it, she’ll hear me (Kidding. I know she hears me).

And while all these thoughts and feelings are running through me, I’m trying to keep my sanity in check. All I want to do is lie in bed and cry and cry and cry and cry. But I can’t. I have a life to live. I have a job to do…to keep. I have responsibilities to honor. So I have to get my emotions back in check. It’s a nasty cycle. One I have to alter to survive mentally and emotionally. How proud of me would my mother be if I just gave up like I want to? More importantly, how proud of myself would I be if I gave up? I’m no quitter. Instead, I have to break through traditional perceptions of “strength” and find my own version of it. I need that to fully become and realize the woman I truly am….and the woman my mother truly wanted me to be. Both of my mothers want me to be.

There is still a lot going on in my head and heart. Things I know I will address with Francesca in the future. Things that Francesca will guide me through. That’s what she does. She guides people. She doesn’t lead them. She talks to you. Listens to you. Throws out a glimpse of what she sees in you, and lets you run with it. Not the other way around. I’m a big ball of crazy right now, so I can only imagine where I’ll end up. Stronger on the other side of it, somehow.

If what I’m saying resonates with you, let me know. If Francesca interests you, you’ll find a link to her page on my “Who I Follow” tab.

In closing, I’ll share this:

I was recently rifling through my old writings and I found a poem I wrote several years ago when my grandmother passed.   As I read it, I realized the traits I saw and learned through my grandmother and wrote in the poem were the same traits I saw and learned through my mother.  Through my mother and grandmother I learned real, true, loyal love.  As I was still a budding writer at the time, it reads very much like a child wrote it.  And I was barely hitting 20 at the time.  It was also before I discovered that poetry didn’t have to rhyme to make sense. Anyhow, I thought it was relevant to share here.

Warm kisses felt on my aching brow
A gentle hand to calm me down
A silky voice so pure of love
Soothing words to comfort a child
A voice so sleek, so soft, so mild
A security blanket in a world so cold
A voice to teach me to be bold
A voice to give me courage in the night
A voice that inspires, says “…, take flight”
The woman who taught me much that I know
Finally broke free, found courage to go
Her lessons taught will stay in my heart
A woman and mentor who will never depart

So there is my first real purging of word vomit. Hopefully the next blog I post will be happier. Until next time….


Getting Emotional Support From the Divine

Felt the need to banish a person from my life and heart.  Sat back, closed eyes, and went with what the Lady and my gut told me to do. 

I love being a pagan and witch. 

I don’t wish this person any harm or ill will, I just need them to no longer have any hold on my heart, especially since it is in the form of hurt.   Of course,  much of this can be accomplished in mundane life, but I need help with the emotional.

I have no doubt the spiritual and divine will help with this.  Magic is powerful in so many ways, and my magic is powerful because I am strong and graceful. And I rely on that strength and grace along with that of the Lady (and also the Lord in some/most cases).

In frith,

Posted from SaraKitty’s Android