Painful Synchronicity

Today I am thankful for synchronicity and the opportunity to ask for help.

We buried aunt Judy today.

The cemetery is in my home town.  It's the oldest private cemetery in Colorado.

We buried her next to my great uncle, C. Ringling*.  He died three weeks before I was born.  Story has it that he ran away from the circus because he abhorred the way they treated the horses. He spent the rest of his life training them.  If he were alive today, he'd be happy that the circus days of the past are no more.

He's buried next to a baby named Susan who died when someone put a can of gasoline next to a gas water heater. For years, my mother would drink and cry about baby Susan. For her, the trauma of the loss of her niece never ended.

I'm worried about my uncle.  He looks so lost and distraught.

He's an extrovert.  I told him that he needed people.

He said that he's tired of people and wants to immediately go on a road trip to find a cliff.

To someone like me, that sounds like a suicide threat.

I wish we were as close as we used to be.  That man had taken me into his home whenever my mother would binge on alcohol.  He was, for the most part, my father - until Judy came.  Judy couldn't stand me (and many other members of our family).  Many of us distanced ourselves from him when Judy started abusing us.  She never played games in front of him - she always waited until we were alone.

I lost my mind when she stole money from my grandfather.  I actually hired a lawyer but my grandfather died within a month of my discovery.  He had willed money to me but I left it for Judy and my uncle, calling it "cursed blood money."  At that point, I became the family advocate.  As far as I know, Judy didn't steal money from any one else I knew after that. She tried.  People would come to me and it seemed to stop the moment I mentioned the word "lawyer."

I learned even his children had stayed away for 15 years.

It sounds like a very lonely life.  It hurts to see him in so much pain.

My family thinks I'm overreacting about the concern that he will try to end his life

- but that first year -

that first year feels impossible.

I don't know him well enough anymore to how to help. Judy stole 35 years from our relationship.

*****

I perused the cemetery and spied a beautiful, huge, red tombstone with two granite hearts.  As I walked towards it, I looked down and saw two familiar names -

my heart sank. 

I found that I was standing on the grave of the parents of the old friend I have nightmares about.  I didn't know this his mother died recently.

I had no flowers or anything to give, so I just sat in front of their granite headstone with an etching of a beautiful pine tree on the left

and asked them to look after their son. 

I told them that I don't know their eldest son very well anymore and that I was having nightmares about him intoxicated and depressed.  If there is even the smallest chance that he's hurting, I asked that they intervene.

I told them that I'd reach out but my presence tends to cause their son pain and creates such a confusing mass of emotions that I doubt we could ever be friends as adults. I fear hurting him.

I asked that they look after him and lead him to where he needs to go.

I'm shocked I didn't cry.

They were good people - good, beautiful people - people who tried to help me before I became a homeless teen when Judy was kicking me out of my uncle's home.  Wise as they were, they realized their son liked me too much, and that having us live together would have probably created a second mess for me to clean up**.  Of course, they were right.

His mother is the one I try to emulate when I take in homeless teenagers.

After my one sided conversation, I left, feeling a mixture of awkwardness and shock. 

Maybe it wasn't one sided, I had the distinct sense that they wanted me to go to a legalistic church and pray to Jesus.

Maybe.....I'd do it for my old friend (if my feet don't burn upon stepping into the church - lol)

*****

Next time, I'll bring a bunch of flowers for the five graves I need to visit.

As I drove away, I pondered if I would have the time or the resources to create a homeless community....

What in the world can I do now?

******

It's been a long day,

I'm off for some well needed sleep.

Perhaps this will spell the end of the nightmares***.

Love ya,

S.

* Suddenly realizing why my family has the big tent in the show. 

** What happened was my friend Jim talked me into selling some of my instruments for rent money.  He and his gang of beautiful gay buddies took me under their wing, cosigned an apartment for me and helped me finish high school.   They even taught me how to do my hair and put on make-up. Too many of them passed away due to AIDS.  Jim is still alive but he hates my conservative politics.  Little does he know that Libertarians have always fought for gay rights.

***I awoke Friday morning in a peaceful state.  There were no nightmares.  Perhaps this needed to happen.

I don't why I'm afraid to admit feeling love my old friend.  Deep down, I'm afraid I'll turn his spouse (if he has one) into a stalker.  The cops claimed that Michael starting stalking me because I went out to lunch with Tom.

The stalking started in 1992. 

Tom had nothing to do with it.

Again, I really don't know why I'm afraid to admit that I love my old friend.

Love can never be a burden if we don't abuse it.

One can always love silently in the background.

May all your dreams be sweet,

S.

Note to Parents and Cops

Today I am thankful for insight. 

Parents - teach your children how to behave like human beings without being violent jerks to others.  If you don't do that, your kids will get the lesson from other people in less pleasant ways.

Cops - do your job or it'll be done by other people.

*****

I spent the day cleaning up after a spell that went crazy.

I repainted my bathroom and scrubbed layer upon layer of soot off the tile.  There wasn't enough time to repaint the doors or the edging.  I'll do that next week.

There is a huge hole behind the mirror in the bathroom that wasn't there before.  I guess the contractors did that.

Some of the tile wasn't caulked either.

It looks like I'll get to learn how to repair drywall and tile.


*****

I'm not in the best of moods.

I'm having nightmares of finding my daughter shot to death by the asshat that the cops peg as the victim of domestic violence.

The nightmares are so graphic, I'm vomiting.

She texted her older sister once but won't call.

I'd bet a thousand dollars he's back at her house and has her phone and is the one responding.

That doesn't help me believe that she is safe.

*****

In addition to the curse, I cast three protection spells

one for my daughter,

one for my granddaughter

and one for a little boy I've never met.  I don't have the heart to tell his mother why I'm worried. Let's just say that it is due to another asshat abuser.  The little boy is saying things that five year old kids don't understand.  I bet he's parroting his abusive dad and I'm shocked a social worker hasn't picked up on it yet. At the age of five, kids do not understand that death is permanent. Someone is threatening to kill himself in front of the child.  Some where the child is getting the sense that he would be better off dead.  I hear this stuff all the time from young children of alcoholics.  If I pay attention, I'll learn the origin of it all when I hear the parent say these things to the child.

I'm always casting protection spells. 

It's a constant with me.

Curses, not so much.

If this asshat so much as hits another woman, he's toast.  The weird thing is that I prepped three candles for the spell but only lit one.  The fire spread and  burned down those other candles, too.  Divinity must have it out for this jerk. 

The curse has 30 days to work itself out.

******

My childhood abuser died last Monday.

Her name was Judy.

I never cursed her.  I never had to curse her.

She was traumatized.  Her first husband abused her horribly.

When she was nineteen, she had a cavity.

Her husband took her to the dentist and demanded that the dentist pull out all of her teeth!

The fuckin' dentist complied.

I will never know why her back was crooked, why her nose was crooked and why she freaked out at the drop of a hat.

There was no reason to make her retell her story.

I think I know why dinner was always at 5:00pm and why the house looked like a show home.

It is obvious she was horribly abused at some point in her life and acted in accordance to that way of life.

My uncle rescued her from that world when I was sixteen years old.

In return, she ridiculed me mercilessly, stole my money and threw me out of the house.

My favorite memory of her abuse was

introducing herself to my friend Tom as "Judy, not [my] mother" as "[her] daughters are beautiful."

Tom, in total INTJ fashion replied something to the effect of

"Thank goodness!  [Siegfred] I was going to break up with you because I thought she was your mom and I didn't want to wake up with that in 40 years!"

I distanced myself from Judy for years.

After about a decade, she met my husband.  She made it well known that she was disappointed.  She literally thought I married Tom.  Of course, this offended my husband.  Between his family and mine, he probably felt like he was living in my old friend's shadow.

Of course, I had to tell her that gossip that I heard from Mike's family.  There was a story that he wore a dress to school and may have been interested in guys.

I simply told her that I think I scared Tom into pitching for the other team.

She was disgusted with me.

Of course, my family didn't understand my excitement when my in-laws reported that my old friend married a girl.  I was relieved that I didn't condemn a Christian guy to hell because I'm...well...scary.

Now, knowing that my in-laws were stalkers, I'm kinda freaked out that they knew.

Oh well - hindsight is weird.

Getting back to the subject.

******

I think Judy tried to be nice to me after that.  My life wasn't the perfect picture book she envisioned it to be.  I think she took pity on me.

When she realized I was in a controlling relationship, oh my gosh, she pushed me to get out of it.

 I managed to get away.

I'd run into Judy around Arvada.  She'd tell me about her health. She couldn't keep weight on her for anything.  She wasted away.

The last time I saw her was at a funeral for my activist cousin who died due to skin cancer.  He was the only good looking and intelligent member of the family.  Yes, he was adopted.

It's hard when good people die.

When bullies die,

It's still sad.

It's sad how women suffer at the hands of men and that negative energy can impact the way they relate to others for a lifetime.

Who would Judy have been if that man hadn't beat her up when she was in the prime of life?

*****

I've tried to overcome my past.  Maybe I can't.

It's bizarre.  My daughter's boyfriend claims to be Lutheran.

Why is it that Christian guys think it's okay to beat the shit out of their girlfriends and wives?

I literally prayed to Jesus asking that question that night.

Why is that okay?

He can't be my only savior so long as he allows that shit to continue in his name.

******
I had a guy flirt with me at the store today.

He went all out.

I've met him before.

He got my phone number from someone else.

I was saved from the conversation by an urgent phone call from my mentor.

I'm too afraid to date.

I had the thought that I have not belonged to any man over the past six years.  I've been divorced and not dated a soul during that time. This is the first time in my life I do not belong to a man - not a father, foster dad, boyfriend or husband.

I own myself.

My life is finally getting to where I'm reaching the goals I had when I married Michael.

I'm finally experiencing synchronicity.

This is an experience I needed.

Maybe my fear of attracting another asshat is helping me on some deep level.

*****
I took a venlafaxine a few minutes ago.

I got an RX for hot flashes months ago and never took it.

It's an anxiety pill. I'm pretty sure the vomiting is due to anxiety.

I'm literally freaking out.  I taught my daughters to put up with asshats.  My eldest daughter is paying the price for the patience I showed the abusive asshats in my life.

I should have kicked people to the curb earlier.

Children learn what they live.

Even my gay kid had an abusive relationship.  She went to therapy and learned how to get rid of people who exhibit red flags early on.

Let's hope my eldest does the same thing.

I'll never understand why society turns a blind eye to domestic violence.  Why do the courts ignore it?  Why do cops ignore it?  Why does domestic violence (and rape and stalking) get supported by cops and DAs and judges?  Why are abusers allowed to continue? Why are victims blamed?

Why are women second class citizens?

Of course, I've known a couple of guys beat up by women.  Do they go through the same thing? Do male rape victims get ignored, too?

What in the hell can I do about it without burning down my house in a fit of rage?

So much to ponder.

Love ya,

S.

That Old Black Magick (w/edit)

Today I am thankful that I'm a woman and can excuse changing my mind.

Some asshat beat my daughter for the very last time.  Today he choked her.  The Denver Cops wanted to arrest her because she scratched him trying to get air.

He left red marks on her arms and neck. They're going to bruise.

The cops won't do their jobs. They let the drunkard go.  He'll probably break back into my daughter's home and beat her up again.

So....I'm tired of it.

I'll take over.

That lil' dude would have been better off in jail.

He's a gun nut.

I have to act fast.

Thank goodness creep-boy tried to friend me on Facebook months ago.  I never accept new requests.

I just accepted his old request and got everything I need.

If there is one thing to like about Facebook - asshats share all their little personal details.

Buh, Bye Fucktard.

*****

I've cast this curse three times.

The first time Bill died before the first candle burned down - he was stalking me on behalf of his son.  This guy actually would gather family members around me, corner me, push me and threaten me.

All I did was write - end the stalking on the candle.

The stalking didn't stop.

I did the exact same spell again.

Stalker Shannon died before the second candle burned down.  She'd follow me all over town.  Even after the divorce, she tried to break into my home.  She was spotted watching me while I was trying to date!

Shortly after the candle burned down, I got the news that she had died.

The stalking didn't stop.  Shannon's boyfriend was now following me around.

So I did the spell again and asked that the stalking stop in a way that didn't kill anyone.

Michael lost his job.  He eventually got evicted from my home.  For the most part, the stalking has stopped.  The neighbors still tell me they see a man go into my back yard.  Sometimes there is some property damage. 

At least Michael is alive.

I have to remind myself, in my fury, to write "without killing anyone*."

Wish me luck.

When I'm pissed, I miss those little pesky details.

*****

Oh, I can see why the leftists are rioting at the Denver Cop Headquarters.

The cops are morons.

Well, they probably just beat their wives and turn a blind eye to domestic violence.  Before you scoff, remember I was a victim's advocate for the DA many years ago.  I met far too many wives of police officers in that role.

Recently, they arrested a politically active witch friend of mine from taking a chainsaw away from a man that was hitting her with it.

She was trying to stop him from beating a homeless guy.  She yelled at the asshat and lured him away from the homeless man so she looked like an aggressor on the videos her neighbors' took.

She was bloody and bruised.  She was charged. Nothing happened to the asshat.

The homeless guy was found dead the next day.

She's nicer than I am or the asshat wouldn't be around town (if you catch my drift).

I wouldn't even have to go within five feet of him or hire anyone to do the deed.

My faith in my spirituality is incredibly strong.

*****

All a good witch needs is a picture, a name or a birthday -

maybe some cinnamon and some pepper.

Hell, a lemon could suffice.

So I'm off to raid my cupboard.

If I get the names of two horrible officers, I'm going to have a little bit of fun, too.  I've been meaning to practice small, tiny curses (like not getting good parking spots, or getting cited for every tiny thing).

Maybe I should curse them with a conscience - that's my favorite curse.

This asshole who beat my daughter, I'm saving the fireworks for him.

*****

I'm so lucky it's almost Halloween.  Guess who has an arsenal of black candles?

Yep.

I'm gonna need more.

It's days like today, I'm thankful I'm single and no guy has to suffer through my wrath.

Well - one guy gets to suffer.

If this doesn't work quickly, I'll release my demon (which, for the people who take everything literally, means my shadow side).

There will be hell to pay.

Cackling,

S.

Edit Five Hours Later:

So - it looks like a bomb went off.  I must have been Angry (with a capital A).

It's bizarre.

I only got out three small non-reversible candles (solid black),

printed off two photos of him on my LaserJet, 

and stuck them in a pan lined with wax paper.

Last month, I threw away my baby oil so I wasn't tempted to curse pricks.

I didn't use oil. 

Little assholes' name and birthdate went on the three candles 

then I added some siracha, cayenne and black pepper, 

(couldn't find my valarian or stinging nettles), 

while meditating and praying that any pain he's inflicted on women would come back to him 1000 fold and that he'd never hit another human being so long as he lived, 

then I lit only one of the candles, 

just one....

and put the pan in the tub of a bathroom that needs renovated.

I watched the candle burn until I started to nod off.

Five hours later, I awoke to the smell of smoke

and a bathroom that will need repainted (planning on it anyway). 

All three candles, the paper and the liner were burned up.  Only tiny shreds of the 8X11 print-outs of this idiot exist.

My tub is going to need repainted (they have porcelain paint for that)

there are little smoke marks all over the bathroom.

Thankfully, I have a lot of Florida Water to clean everything up.

*****

You know, the abusive predator is nearly my age (didn't know that - he looks much younger - must be pickled by the alcohol or something). 

He claims to work in construction but it sounds like he doesn't work and lives off my daughter and social security. 

He probably beat her up so he could see another woman he's grooming to take care of him. 

I get the sense, if he hits another woman, his world is going to explode like those candles did.

*****

Now, I'm going to reach out to the Denver Police Dept again to see if I can get them to talk to me before I run off and talk to the press. I might hit up some of my first amendment activist friends (in fact one had a mediation with the DPD a couple weeks back - they played her, too - she's not a hypnotist).

As a former victim's advocate, I'm tired of seeing cops ignore their duty and placate to the will of an abuser.

I'm also wondering why they let a highly intoxicated man roam the streets of Denver.  They threatened to arrest my daughter if one of them didn't leave the house.  The prick left.

He should have gone to Denver Cares or the ER.  If he caused a car crash due to impaired driving, it's on the DPD.

There were Benzos in the house - so part of me fears he's going to OD. I can't stop that.  My daughter tried to get the cops to help.  They didn't.  In 2005, the Supreme Court ruled that cops don't have to help domestic violence victims, so....

I can see the leftists' point about defunding the department.

I've decided to get that new certificate to counsel domestic abusers so that when I run to the legislature to get them to reverse the idiotic laws that batterers are upending to control their victims by having them threatened with arrest, I'll have more credibility.

Former State Congressman Steve Lebsock tried amend the law so victims didn't have ruined records when cops arrested the wrong party.  At least that was before the Democrats had him removed from office for staying the word "Fuck" too much and pretend to be victims of sexual harassment (there's a couple of posts about that debacle on this blog).

Abusers are master manipulators.  They will lie and twist the facts so that they come out smelling like roses.  It might be best to be rid of the mandatory arrest statute.  Too many victims are being arrested (I've even met minors arrested for protecting their mothers from abusive dads).

It would seem the Denver Cops don't understand anything about defensive violence.

Truth is, they probably don't care.

*****

Women are not rehabilitation centers for poorly raised men.  

His mother, she's a piece of work - ugh! - she expects US to care for her abusive son and promises to pray for us. 

Well, lady, I did some old testament prayers last night (the old Psalms, you know, the David cursing kind).  Let's see how that pans out for your only remaining son.  You traumatized your boys.  You didn't get them mental help (even though one was kidnapped as a child).  One overdosed and the other is dying of alcoholism and the abuse of Xanax (if he doesn't have symptoms, he will soon). 

Those cops - well, I'll revoke the protection prayers I've been saying for them all this time.

I'm no longer expending energy to protect lazy jerks.

Love ya,

S.

P.S.  Sorry about the typos, my glasses are dirty from the smoke.

I guess once a witch - always a witch.

At least - this time - I went five years between harsh curses.

That's progress.

Ugh....More Nightmares

I overslept today and wish I hadn't. 

This morning was the morning of bizzare dreams.

Thankfully, I'm busier than Hades so I have little time to ponder them. 

In this dream, I walked outside and there were beautiful high end brand new leather couches that littered the street.  Someone was trying to sell them to me.

Dream interpretation: The objects in our dreams can resemble our outer circumstances and/or reflect facets of our lives.  Often couches resemble obstacles.  The State of Colorado just changed the licensure requirements for my Addiction Counselling License.  I'll have to wait at least six more moths before I can make real money.  After taking nearly two years off from my hypnosis practice to take a low-paying internship, I may have to stay away from my practice a little longer and spend thousands of more dollars on school.  Get this - this is the second time that the board has done this to me.  The last time was 2011, the year I took off to run for office.  The truth is, I love working with addicts.  It'll be worth it.  Maybe my subconscious mind doesn't know if it's worth the price. 

It could also be that I have new furniture for my hypnosis practice.  I am now working at a brand new facility and spent about a month moving in their furniture (forty couches and such). 

That piece is pretty easy to understand. 

In the dream, I make my way to a convenience store and find an old friend wearing jeans and a brown polo.  We walk towards each other.  We hug.  We talk about missing our friendship.  He tells me he needs me and my friendship.  I tell him that I miss him.  We pal around and talk.

He takes me to his place and we spin old records on a turntable. We dance apart from each other.

Then he tells me he is thinking of harming himself.  I grab the phone and have him talk to a colleague at the crisis center.  I'm holding him.  I'm feeling a horrible pain in the pit of my gut from the realization that he has been in pain a very long time and I knew nothing. 

I knew nothing so I did nothing.

I wake up crying.

*****

It was just a dream.  It's not real.

It was just a dream. 

It was just a dream. 

Why is it so hard for me to believe that it was just a stupid dream, a meaningless stupid dream probably reflective of the many people I work with each day threatening suicide? 

This probably represents my greatest fear, that my old friend is in pain.  I hope it's not true. I would hope he would reach out and let me pay for lunch this time.

I don't call this man because I don't want to cause him any pangs of limerence. That's been a problem in the past.

I also don't want to upset any current girlfriend (or wife if he's lucky).

I don't know.

The last time I had nightmares of him, they came true.

Who do I pray to?

I don't know. 

I'm off to work to ponder what this dream means.  I figure that we have unfinished business which is why he came back three times.

I'm hoping that the unfinished business in just on my end.  I'm hoping that the record player in the dream represents that my love for him will just continue to spin around and around for the rest of my days.

I'm hoping that the suicide threat is indicative of the need to let go of my feelings for him.  I don't know why I'd do that, though.  Loving someone isn't a bad thing unless they know about it and it complicates their lives in some way.

Unless it is the real subconscious reason why I refuse to date.

Maybe I need to take time out of working 80 hours a week to see a therapist myself.  I need to find a Pagan one - one who will laugh at the spent candles that bear his name.  Those are too bizarre.

I post this just with the hope that if someone I know is in need that he or she would call or text me and leave a message.

My hours are bizarre.  I'll do my best to answer and call back.

Love ya,

S.  

The Perils of a Man in an Asexual Pagan's House

Today I am thankful for the realization that I'm insensitive.

I live in a house of women,

Four to be exact.

When I take in homeless kids, they identify as girls (we will leave it at that).

For the past four years, every soul in this house has had the pronoun "she" (except most of the contractors).

Well.....

The contractors were supposed to rebuild all of the electrical in the house.

Ever since they put in the new box, I've had no shortage of problems.

I've had so many power surges, I've had to replace ALL of the appliances (every single one).

They keep breaking.

I had an electrician put in a surge protector because I can't afford to keep buying stoves and refrigerators.

Well, the side by side refrigerator broke again.  This one is thirteen months old (one month outside of the warranty).

I just lost $500 worth of food and herbs.  I really don't have another $1,000.

Worse, the refrigerator is where I store the remnants of rituals to freeze out my temper so I don't wreak havoc on the nasty ninnies who try to ruin my day.  My temper is back (but that's another story for another day).

I went to Google and hired the first company that came up on the search engine.

A man and his teenage son came out the next day and fixed it within an hour for $200 (gave me the broken part, too).

I think the guy was either anxious or sick because he had to use the bathroom quite a bit.

Now....this bathroom is the girliest room on the planet.

I am not kidding.

The paint is pink.

It is decorated with Cupids.  Cupids are on the wall.  Cupids are on the decorations.

Cupids are almost everywhere. Where Cupid is lacking, there are roses.

There are candles and a plant in a flowery pot.

It's actually so girly that it is kind of gross.

Remember we're Pagan.

When I decorated it, I was trying to save my marriage by paying homage to the most dangerous archer in history.*

You read that right.  I AM responsible for the pink bathroom from Hades.

Now, that only females have lived here over the past four years,

everything is girly; everything from the towels right down to the soap.

I was incredibly embarrassed when this good-looking 50-something guy started smelling like Cherry Blossom Flowers after several trips to the pink latrene.

Lesson noted.

I went to the store and bought some Zest.

Sigh.....

Even if I wanted to date, I'd probably run the poor guy off with all the feminine energy in the house.

I need some NRA plaques or something.

Maybe I'll go visit Cabela's for decoration inspiration.

Love ya,

S.

* The pink potty didn't save the marriage.  Perhaps it helped chase my betrayer off (at least, I'd like to think something positive came from the eye-sore).