Archive for Mental illness

Time Theory, Heathenry, and Past Suffering

Posted in About me, Justice, On the Gods, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 5, 2013 by Tyrienne

AA036979Of all the religions I have come into contact with during the course of my studies, to me, Buddhism is the most incomprehensible and at opposition with my beliefs and experience.  Please, don’t take this to mean I hate Buddhists, quite the opposite, I married a Shaolin monk for Christ’s sake- and I have been fortunate enough to meet many excellent Buddhist (or half Buddhists) over the years that have shown me the religion itself may actually be more full of kind, considerate people than any other… my favorite advisor in college was half Buddhist as well, and often, he was the best person to speak to when everything in my life was crashing down around me.  Buddhism is the belief there is no moment except for the present moment- the past is a memory, the future can only be inferred.  By living in the present moment we free ourselves from attachment to both the pains and joys of the past and also of anticipation for the future, striving, instead, to live within the present moment
One of those things that haunts me is my physical knowledge of time theory.  Picture a train, if you will- you are standing in front of one window of that train so you can see within the cabin- because you entire view of the train is limited to just seeing inside one window of the cabin, you can neither see the engine nor the caboose.
However, I want you now to picture a mountain, at the bottom of this mountain is the same train- only now from your vantage point you not only can see the train, but all the tracks, the surrounding countryside, and the entire route of the object from beginning to end.   This is time theory.  The idea that time is not linear, but rather all existent in one plane all at once (the 4th dimension) however, we can only perceive the smallest portion of it due to the lack of our perception.  However, even in the analogy of the train we find that we are dealing with two forms of perception-  Grand (Macro) or vague perception, and small (Micro) or specific perception.  From the top of the mountain, we cannot see within the cabin of the train without limit our perception of the rest of reality with a set of binoculars, nor can we perceive from the base of the mountain at the train station without similar means.

To me, this is why Sufism is such an intellectually accessible religion; in Sufism, instead of a train we have a book- some grand book that encompasses all that ever was and is to be, however, we live page by page and do not get to see this book until, MAYBE, our deaths should we have lived our lives in accordance to certain humane principles and ideals such as honesty, hospitality, charity, prayer, fasting, pilgrimage, etc.   Instead of the “Now” centeredness of Buddhism, in Sufism, we have focus on the future, and that all deeds performed in the present are entirely in preparation for some perhaps unattainable future goal.

Heathenism, surprisingly enough, appears to be unique in lacking a present focus in favor of both past and future- our rituals are focused on the values and accomplishments of our ancestors, where our deeds are meant to sow the seeds for the future- making us rather cross-eyed in the present as an entirety of a people.   This makes perfect sense to me, having PTSD because I feel the affects of the actions of myself and others from the past vividly daily in the form of flashbacks; however, I also strive to live a pure and honorable life in the present- which is actually made easier by being Lokean/Tyrian rather than more difficult because both my nature of being Lokean and my Tyrian ethics keep my circle of people I interact with commonly small either out of fear of me or by my repulsion of them.   I love Heathenry because there is no credo of accepting “everyone” there are people who are not worthy of my time or presence, and also, there are people who receive no benefit from my existence either.   This truth is missing from other world religions- this is not to say to be inhospitable- far from that, however, after introductions are made and the nature of the person is assessed; we are given the choice to either continue to allow them to affect our wyrd or orlogg (which I will spell every imaginable way in this post) or to avoid them.   9 out of 10 times my choice is avoidance- humans lie, they cheat, they abuse others and they do not care about the consequences of their selfishness- they intentionally inflict pain and act with cruelty then justify their actions by claiming to be part of some sub culture or another, or worse, their Godly nature allows for certain breaches.   In my case, the pain and damage I cause is by being a truth-teller…. not exactly the sort of person you want at your parties, and worse, I am a truth teller with a selective memory so that whatever is unimportant falls through like a sieve where the things that “stick” nag at me for months until they are released via this blog into the open so I can remove the metaphorical itching of witnessing the pains caused by others- how they can act in ways I personally find appalling and would never commit myself and yet, people avoid that elephant in the room with our still-puritanical politeness of decades of Christian indoctrination into our American culture.

Until “Hey, you’re an asshole.” is as acceptable now as it was back in some indeterminate ancestral halcyon time we all seem to claim- the Lokean and the Tyrians will continue to be the least desirable among all Heathens to share a horn with- Lokean truth is seen as disruptive- and outside of leadership roles, the judgements of those who follow Tyr come across as overly harsh an insensitive- if not Neanderthalic in black/white reasoning of what constitutes the good and the bad- the line is clear.    (Which should be to be expected considering records of Tyr predate records of Woten by at least 6000 years, according to Wikipedia)  With Tyr, the line is clear- cheating is always “bad”, whereas being initially hospitable to all people upon first meeting them is “good” until they are proven unworthy of it…should they prove unworthy, they are to be avoided until sufficient progress is made on the part of the offending party to make amends; but more often then not- the severing of ties is permanent- for the more you beg, the more pathetic and useless you are viewed so reconciliation cannot be “bought”; but must be proven by inherent worth to the community at large to once again regain favor…if then.   (Anton LeVay and Tyr would have an interesting relationship, for instance- for where their ideologies meet- they meet exactly, but where they differ, there could not be more extreme differences in point of view….worth a different post, perhaps)

So, anyway back to time theory.  So here we have the proof of physicist and philosophers that time is merely an a-priori perception of the mind, that we cannot see more than three pieces of the puzzle called “life” at a time, and those pieces we have labeled our “past, present, and future”.  The Buddhist is to sit on the piece that is “present” and ignore all else; the Sufi is to discard the past, use the present, keep their eyes on the future for a pleasant afterlife (all monotheistic faiths are similar in this regard), and the Heathen falls into the the trap of ignoring the present moment being stuck with one foot in the past and the other focused on the future- lending ourselves to a faith that is overall confused on a National and International level as those who favor the past are called “Folkish” and those who look forwards almost to the exclusion of the past are labeled “Universalists”  However, in both sets of Heathen practice we find that it is commonly believed that our present actions, especially during sumbel/blot/ritual are timeless and can positively affect the luck/wyrd/oorlog of the past and that of our ancestors by how well we live our lives this moment.

If I were to take my troubled mind out of the equation of my life, I lead an exceptionally blessed existence,  I have a handsome and loving husband, I not only do not have to work, but I am not permitted to on account of illness, I am free, I am well provided for, have companionship of good animals and people- and even a few reliable, honorable family members I can relate to.  However, my mental condition consistently traps me in past experiences and hurts me relentlessly- I am not haunted so much by things I did or did not do-thankfully, I live a life with few regrets, however, I am haunted by lack of proper foresight in those past situations that allowed for my life to spin wildly out of control as I could not step out of the way in time of the train bearing down on the tracks.  Metaphorically speaking, I have been hit by several trains-  lesson learned is to stop playing on the tracks- which, for the most part I have.  If “playing on the the tracks” is interacting with unstable people, then after 31 years of experience, I have finally learned to determine that everyone is unstable to a degree and that the only people worth interacting with are the ones who can fully embrace their own madness with honesty-(throw decorum out the window, please.)   The harder we strive to hide our inner chaos and madness, the harder it bears down upon us and those in our lives- to the point at which some people will even sacrifice innocent peoples lives and reputations to maintain their own facades of dignity and faux-decorum.  This is called gas-lighting, and is often employed by narcissists and sociopaths.  Be very, very careful about the person who desires recognition, fame, money, or achievement- often, that is indicative of a sickness that can drown and maim even the strongest of men around them; in the pursuit of such meaningless accomplishments or feats- integrity and honor often fall by the wayside as other needs are not met and vices are procured to fulfill the inner emptyness that a life set on these things creates.  The vacuum of loss of friends as time is devoted to putting resources together to appear more impressive in exchange for false friends who only serve to boost the ego- making those who speak of moderation into the enemy.   I abhor the person who seeks grandeur for its own sake- but love the quietness of the footsteps of the person who achieves notoriety for doing good deeds for their own sake without any desire for recognition.

I write a great deal, I think, but I don’t make money off of this blog-  I do it as part of an oath I made with Tyr and by extension Loki to prove that Loki and Lokeans are human beings, not to be categorized and dismissed out of hand- just as Loki is not to be dismissed out of hand. In this journal I have shared and will continue to share my personal experiences publicly- I have nothing to hide.  I will show my prejudices- my strengths, and my short comings- but as time passes, my “public” experience of the community becomes less as I draw my shades and focus more exclusively my own life and that of my husband.  When I began this blog, I was very much “in” the community and a consistent attender of events all over- but now, I am much more content to stay home more days often than not and enjoy the company of my new husband.  Some places have rejected us, other places we have rejected- and honestly- it’s about 50/50 as to which is which- even still, we have more invitations than we expect between the two of us, and I have more reception to this blog than I anticipated.  However, Tyr never gave me a timeline here so I have no idea if this is a “forever” thing or if one day I get to ditch this format in favor of a new chapter with a different URL where I just get to go back to simple, personal journalism once more…where I am not intentionally putting the gross details of my life out there for everyone to see.

So, anyway- the solution I have found to my present dilemma came from therapy, I am involved in something called EMDR where I am supposed to remove the emotions from the negative memories and be able to contain them away from my psyche- the only possible way this can be accomplished for me (and apparently, for most with my condition) is to focus on the living conditions of the present moment rather than the traumatic episodes of the past.   In my case, I spend a great deal of time focusing on the time I get to share with Eddie.  From the view of time theory, and from Heathenry, the reason why my life is so good at this present moment is BECAUSE I have already paid the price for it with my past.   Ed found me through another journal I used to write, and without writing we would not have our marriage.  Without keeping record online of everything I have experienced from my life in Spain to College to my poetry- I would have no record of my past except for negative memories.  However, if I take a more Buddhist approach and focus entirely on the ethic of the present moment, then I realize the need for productiveness and the sharing of my personal revelations.

Without writing, I would feel much more guilty about having such an easy life now-  I would feel more lonely, and I would feel purposeless.  If not a single person reads this blog but my husband- I am fine with that.   However, since I know that is not the case let me tie all the loose ends together into a format that makes this coherent to the rest of those who read my rambling thoughts…

PTSD- (Tyr is likely the God most accustomed to it outside the Rokkr), forces one to live in the past-  however, the past is not detached from the present or future.  The “present” is simply a term for the point of view or perspective we hold on our lives at the present moment, or what “eyes” we use to view our lives-  are we viewing remotely or intimately?  Do we look at the greater picture or the minute details of our daily experiences, (if we pay attention to our daily experiences at all…?)

The view from the mountain is lovely, but we miss detail- and although the details of the train are captivating, if we are standing on the tracks to look in the window of one train, anticipating boarding it, we risk being run down by another on a faster track if we do not watch where we place our feet.

The solution is mindfulness- the ability to live, right now, and in the present- to not focus on anticipation or to dwell in regrets OR past glory.   If life is good RIGHT NOW- then it is fair to say you earned the right to that goodness.   If your life RIGHT NOW is chaos, then it is fair to say that you have been negligent and the sum of that negligence is insecurity.   When I look at the times of my life when things were at their worst, it has meant one of two things:

1. This is only a test- make it through this and things will get better.
2. I have ignored all the warning signs and gone “my own way” despite the advice of those wiser than I, leading me into untenable situations…. to get out, I need to extract myself carefully, live ethically, and all will be okay in the eventual future.

Whether or not I am “Okay” at this time is dependent on my state of mind; always, I am materialistically okay; but I have been homeless, lived in an unfinished concrete and drywall room with nothing more than a spare lightbulb- or by the charity of strangers for food and the roof over my head.   I got through those times by a great deal of prayer, sacrifice (including my entire altar to a lake at one point- 15 years of my life- given to four cardinal directions of water)  It took patience, it took waiting. suffering, and asking for help, even when asking for help meant becoming estranged from those I cared for (who, I had to accept, were NOT helping).  It was a matter of putting aside my pride and TALKING both in writing and out loud about what was happening and had happened…. realizing that as long as I use my voice, as long as there is a record of my thoughts and my writings, then it’s a lot easier to clear up misunderstandings, and MUCH harder for people to lie about who I am and where I stand for their own personal gain.

Writing in journals like this has saved my life, my degrees, and my reputation in some regards- everything I write is honest to the best of my perceptions, and keeping records of what I have thought, said, and believed shows a progression.  No one person is supposed to stay stagnant, and, ideally, my favorite people are the ones who admit to striving to learn something new, experience something new, or do something to further their intellectual and spiritual growth daily- even if it just means watching a movie they have never seen before on Netflix or taking a new way home from work.

Time theory at one time lead me to an institution for 10 days, because my life was so fucked up I couldn’t understand why and how if there is no “reality of serial time” that I could suffer so miserably at that moment.   I suffered because either I was either not living in the present and mourning the past too acutely, or that I could not see the larger picture that time had to offer- the Heathen way- that perhaps I brought it on myself by not being as Tyrian (honest) as I should have been, and in lying to save another person, I had ruined my own Wyrd for that moment.

My life improved when I stopped trying so hard to protect a man not worth my protection, by bringing Tyr’s influence back into my life into a place of prominence where I could once again claim with honesty I was no liar.  It involved a great deal of pain; and still, my honesty causes me loss of friends- however, I have lived the other way. I have lied for who I thought was a friend and almost lost my literal life over it….by placing the needs of a narcissist above my own without the consciousness of realizing I was doing so.  I was told by Loki to protect my professor, and I did.  I saved his life by speaking up and preventing him from being assassinated in Turkey.  My responsibility was not to lie for him to cover up why he was not properly doing his job, nor was it to lie to make him appear better than me and disgracing myself in favor of his reputation when he was the one who was behind on our joint work, not I.

Should I have listened to my inner instincts, I would have known lying at all is never the correct solution to anything at all- and even with the best of intentions, one lie can damage the Wyrd severely.

Kant was wrong in that regard, bad actions with good intentions still lead to ultimately negative outcomes.  Furthermore, there is no such thing as a negative intention- there is reactionary intentions, sure.  But few set out intentionally to cause harm without reason or purpose.  With that being said, if the action is good, the result will likely follow to be good as well.

Be productive
Be Honest
Live in the present
See life from both the micro and macro perspectives
Be frithful
and be grateful and happy for what you have been blessed with.

…and if you can’t bear to raise the horn to Loki- raise it to Woten.  Loki gets some of that honor anyway.
…and if you cannot raise the horn to Tyr in good conscious, realize you fucked up massively in life and need to do some serious self assessment.
🙂

Hail!

Advertisements

June 6, 2012 to present. For Loki.

Posted in About me, On the Gods with tags , , , , , , , , on July 21, 2013 by Tyrienne

I don’t remember walking in, but I remember being carted out; strapped to the gurney, I cried and the EMT held my hand and promised to undo the straps as soon as no one could see us, only leaving one remaining- the one on my waist- as he told me about his wife, his move from Florida to Pennsylvania- and anything else that would distract me from looking out the back window during the hour drive south.  They let me walk in- I somehow managed to pack my red bag with the right clothes- I don’t remember doing it
I had the same intake doctor as before.  He asked me about my studies of Muhammad Iqbal, and of Rumi once again- and I broke down. I just asked him for one thing:  Give me the same doctor I had before; the head doctor- the only one who would believe me- request granted.  But they would not give me the same nurses as before.
I went directly to my room- my brother had bought me all three books of “The Hunger Games,”  and my roommate was quiet and from Eastern Europe- brought in by her own mother when she would not disclose why she would no longer speak.  To me, she said, she had just ended a secret affair with a woman.  Her husband didn’t know- and since she was not there on her own volition, anything she said could be disclosed to her family.

In the morning, they asked for blood, I sat in the chair- and the rubber around my upper arm caused me to panic-  I felt trapped to the chair again, I closed my eyes, the phlebotomist was incompetent.  I met with Dr. C…. I listed off every single method one can kill themselves in under 15 minutes (the amount of time between being “checked on”)

“Is that really the best use of your intelligence you can think of?”  He sighed.  “You know, I told you if you kept going you would end up back here- but there isn’t much we can do for you except keep you as safe as we can for a little while.  What do you want?”

I wanted to erase the past three years…. I wanted the police borough that held me for 5 hours handcuffed to a chair to burn down,  I wanted the past 2 years erased from my memory.  I wanted to forget how to speak Farsi.  I wanted to be left alone, I wanted to be held, I wanted to die.

Instead, I said- “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

He replied:  “Well, the same offer is on the table as last time…. Look- I can divide C-PTSD and make each symptom a separate diagnosis.  Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Severe Depression, Agoraphobia, Delusional disorder, non specified.”

“I’m not delusional.”

“Flashbacks are delusions.”

I always look people directly in the eyes- the opposite of most of my friends and family.  I don’t think I blinked.

“So, then what happens?”

“You take a break.  You stay in treatment- you stop applying to graduate schools for now and concentrate on getting better… If you don’t, you will keep ending up back here.  You know what’s wrong with you, I know what’s wrong with you- and we can’t do anything for you except give you a safe place to be for a while.”  He repeated.

“What if I never feel safe again?  Am I here forever?”

“Insurance wouldn’t take kindly to that.”

“Oh.”

“When do I get to have a life again?”

“When you stop making decisions based on how you want to die rather than on how you want to live- Graduate school in Tehran was a ridiculous idea and you know it…. when your medical team can come to a consensus that you are healthy enough.”

“They rejected me anyway… after the Canadian embassy was sacked, they said it was unsafe for an American woman to enter any of their programs at this time.”

“So, then- go to group when you can- do what you usually do. At least out of everyone here I know you know how to keep yourself occupied.  Worry about the police thing later- I know it seems impossible- but try not to think on it too much.”

So, I went back to my room- the mattress creaked of plastic- I already knew how to steal extra blankets.  The weather outside was warm enough to spend an hour a day in the sunlight- I read all three books quickly and passed them on to other patients.

I listened to other people’s stories- I played and read cards.  Who was in and out is a blur-  after your third visit, you can’t recall who you met each time.   At night, I would pace the hallways until the sleeping pills worked.  I would wake up with the sun, cover my head with my stolen pillows from the released patients, and wait until 9am.   I sat through tediously boring sessions.  Dr. C would see me once a day and occasionally ask me, out of curiousity, what *I* would diagnose a new comer.   I was getting good at it by now- after 20+ cumulative days of three different visits- you can almost detect the patterns immediately.

The Borderline, The Bipolar, PTSD, Depression, Schizophrenia, OCD, Anorexia Nervousa- and the combinations of conditions.   The Schizophrenics would undergo swan-like transformations from raving lunatics to articulate, intelligent geniuses in a matter of days.   The borderlines would stay exactly the same- the center of attention- telling elaborate stories of their suicide attempts like one would speak about their time elected as prom queen.

This time, I had a Hamaval- I met a Swede who I lent it to, “This is a REAL religion- the Norse Gods are Real?”
I told him, to the best of my knowledge, they were- but hey, I was in here too- how much could you really trust what I believe?

After three days I noticed a pattern… despite auxiliary conditions- everyone in the ward this time was in for the exact same reason.  Each person had JUST suffered abuse at the hands of another, or several other, people.

The group sessions were centered on identifying how not to become re-victimized, the traits of sociopathy/psychopathy and how to identify them and avoid their webs.  One man was told to break up with the woman who held a knife to his throat three days before- he was in his 40’s and sat against the wall with his head in his hands, shivering.  I gave him my sweatshirt and asked him to keep it.  It was June, the air conditioner was malfunctioning and I raided the lost and found for warmer clothing.

A young man with Asperger’s gave me his shirt in exchange; his marriage at 22 was collapsing and he had the blue medical band wrapped around one wrist tightly that proclaimed he had second thoughts halfway up his arm.

A retired chemist with MS and I spent a great deal of time talking about Kevorkian….and the idiocy of how they would show a ward of almost-suicides a video about a man who wanted to row his boat into the middle of the ocean, hang off the side by one hand, and shoot himself.  A perfect, clean kill.

She wrung her hands…. “I just don’t know if my body would let me row far enough out for it to work for me- and my fingers.  And what if the gun got wet if the sea wasn’t calm?”  I suggested a dowel rod threaded into the trigger, a plastic bag to house the gun, and an outboard motor- rowing was unnecessary, and it wasn’t like she would have to worry about returning the boat.  Her laugh sounded like a cough.

My father visited and brought pizza- my best friend and my brother and sister in law took turns visiting.  A local folkbuilder and some friends made a trip out to see me.  On the phone I heard my friend Al’s voice for the first time in the 12 years I had known him from the think tank we had both been in when I was younger.

On the day I was released, my grandfather called me telling me I “had an imaginary condition, I couldn’t have PTSD- I was no soldier, it wasn’t “real” like a heart condition.  I would have done the family a favor by killing myself as opposed to shaming the family with my voluntary commitment.”

When I came home, I was in the process of moving from the woods to the city.  I had a guy I was dating casually (I never see more than one person at a time) who packed most of my things for me (not that I own much) out of machismo and I rented a room to wait out the next few months.   I stayed confined to that room for the most part, leaving only to use the bathroom or to eat when my roommate was not home.  I began to run out of food- because I did not wish to drive despite the grocery store being less than a mile from home.   On occasion, I could be coaxed to reading or to visit my brother or the boyfriend at the time- driving behind elderly drivers, tractor trailers, and older cars than my own.

Another friend became incredibly jealous and psychotic- spreading lies about the two of us- and I cut him out of my life without mercy.   The romantic relationship with my now ex-boyfriend at the time ended congenially by the end of June on account of irreconcilable political differences.  We’re still friends.

In July, there was a beautiful young redhead with bright teal blue eyes in Reading interested in me- but he was a little young, I thought, until he disclosed he was actually 29.

I had put him off for three months at this point and I agreed to meet him at Freyfaxi- July 28th.  I dressed up for the occasion, and oddly enough, as did he- in a kilt.  The relationship started immediately, much to the happiness of some and consternation of others.

Within a week, I had a dream-  I was in philosophy class but the teacher had red hair-  the test was wrong, the questions were on mico-biology and I was woefully unprepared.   I woke up, fell asleep again….the same teacher with the red hair was now gym teacher or some sort of sports coach….he wore a red and white track suit, his bright hair neatly slicked back and his face sported a perfect goatee.  He offered me candy, flavored tootsie rolls to be exact, and he seemed to be nervously happy that I wasn’t afraid of him.

“Most people don’t like me much these days,” he said.

I replied, “I don’t understand why not, you seem nice enough to me- are you nice?”

“I try to be- but it doesn’t always turn out for the best sometimes.” he looked down and smiled sadly.

“That can be said for anyone, don’t be so hard on yourself.  Kant would approve at least…he says that it’s the intention that counts.”

“Yes, but you also think that Kant is an asshole.” he smiled again, and teased at me a little- I can’t remember if he poked me or flipped my hair- something of that sort.

I woke up again, flipped the pillow over to the cool side, and passed out a third time.  My windows were dark with a tapestry- I stayed up late and woke even later most days.

This time, the same man met me in front of the statue of John Comenius in front of my old college.  There were no cars on either side of the road- and this time, he was dressed in a long black coat, dark jeans, boots, and a white shirt.  His hair was the same- tied back into a short ponytail and he asked me to sit next to him.  I had met him 3 years before in a dream- where he taught English and was Heathen- and told me to protect my mentor at the time…. the situation ended catastrophically- with the grand finale the 5 hour long interrogation by local police, handcuffed to a chair, as I was broken.

The red-haired man apologized. “I didn’t expect things to turn out this way-  I can see many things, but I can’t see everything- I can be many places, but I cannot be everywhere.  I honestly thought you would be fine.  Better than fine.  I am so sorry.”

Sometime during this conversation I said “So, you aren’t Bragi, are you?”- and he smirked despite seeming rather defeated looking overall.

“Look, I promise you- I will make this right.  I will protect you, and I will give you Eddie to protect you on Midgard- and this is my promise to you.”

From inside his coat, he pulled out a perfect red rose on fire with bright flames but did not burn.  I touched the petals with my fingers and felt only coolness, as if the flames were made of wind and breezes rather than fire.

He had his arm around me, protectively, like an older brother as I held the rose-  he looked forward into the distance with his green eyes at things I could not see and seemed to be paying close attention to countless things and thoughts I could not perceive.  I kept looking at the rose and I quietly thanked Him for everything.  I knew it wasn’t His fault, and I told him so.

He complimented me for my grace and understanding.

I shrugged.

How could I hold someone accountable for the free will of humans to do wretched things with deliberate purpose?

Not even a God can control a man, much less more than one whose only intentions and motivations were to cause irrevocable harm….

Right now, I am trying to learn how not  to blame myself for being too naive at the time to know otherwise, either.

This was my flashback today-  I rode it out, and it lead me back to Loki.  I feel better for writing this, and between His concern and the guidance of Tyr in particular I am in a much better place than I was a year ago.

Freyfaxi is Sunday- and I will be marrying that beautiful redhead for real- not just the stupid court thing, but the real thing, by Braucher and Universalist Pastor….and Loki’s statue will be on the altar. (among others)

Screaming at the Gods

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 30, 2013 by Tyrienne
I'm not a fan of Marvel's Loki- but I know the feel in this picture. No idea who the artist is-random tumblr find....

I’m not a fan of Marvel’s Loki- but I know the feel in this picture. No idea who the artist is-random tumblr find..

If there is any theme that runs through my life among people who dislike me it’s been “Be yourself- but not the way you are currently doing it- we hate that.”

I am extraordinarily fortunate that I have found a friend of mine online who can translate contradictory human behavior for me- his name is Steve-  I call him “Smart Steve” to differentiate him from the hundreds of Steve’s I have known and have yet to know.  If I have a question about why life (and people) seem to be so contradictory, I know I can go on facebook and if Steve is on, he will answer my question;  any question.  He’s like my own personal cleverbot- but one with an actual consciousness and conscious…. and his best answer of all is “Don’t worry about what people think- they don’t do it very often.”  Over the past three days, I knew better than to ask him for help- some part knew he couldn’t help.

So, once again- I had found myself in a borderline abusive situation with an authority figure this week- despite protests from my fiancee, I persisted- it’s what I do.  ….and once again, when I could take no more of the abuse, I went to a trusted friend and asked for help.  Gods only know if the place was bugged or the asshole in question was in the next room- but the next thing I know I find I am unwelcomed to yet another place, this time a yoga studio- with another man in his mid-40’s making a screaming jackass of himself as I walk away never to return.

Replay: College
Replay: Childhood

There is a certain gnosis I seem to inspire in insecure men that makes me out to be more than I am….I become, like Loki, a demonized figure who is seen not as a human being, but rather as some sort of vengeful wraith created with the sole intention to vex the person in the position of power.   This person is someone I actually tried my damnedest to befriend. He was supposed to be a close friend of my fiancee’s.  I hand made his family gifts when his child was born, he considered himself a councilor, so I attempted to go  to him with my problems- only to find he was horrendous at giving advice.  I hugged him when he had all the warmth of a Tegu  (Think: unfriendly Gila Monster)

As my teacher, I copied him move for move- only to find that doing so was improper- although I was not informed of this until later.   I always assumed that yoga was a sort of “follow-the-leader” sort of activity, and I am in reasonably decent shape from a life lead of moderate to athletic activity…. How was I supposed to know his flourishes and extra moves were meant to “impress” and were not to be emulated?  My balance sucks, and my thighs are too large to really pretzel myself all that well…. however, I can do diamond push-ups with the best of the men.

But the last straw was he insulted my religion-  Saying he knew more about Heathenry because he spoke Swedish and married a Swede.   Well, okay then.  I used to be able to speak Spanish enough to get by when I lived in Spain- I suppose this means I should be able to make you a paella  from scratch, no?  (I can’t- I hate paella)

…and I sat there and I took it.  I explained Sweden is 90% atheist and that MY religion comes from a mixture of Latvian and Pennsylvania Dutch traditions.  Every answer I gave him angered him.  “Look at your ego,” said he ” You have an answer for Everything.”  said the man who was yelling at me…who also happened to be the ONLY student to appear for his class that day- in the studio he had informed us several times was the “hippest” in town.  (I was only there because my fiancee went there, honestly)

That was three weeks ago-  Last week we were kicking up into handstands…and to my own surprise, I made it.   Against the wall, supported by only my hands- I amazed myself.  I don’t have the greatest balance nor upper arm strength in the world.

The teachers reaction was to scream at the entire class that yoga is not a competition with others, but with the self…. When I was in that handstand, I couldn’t care less what anyone else was doing.  It was my hands- and frankly, I did not care for most of the people in the class all that much anyway after one night I was stalled from departing by two women discussing the virtues of $50 gloves.  (My gloves are bought as needed from the gas station/Wawa/711 when my hands are cold. 14.99 TOPS.)

So anyway,  I was kicked out after I asked a more congenial teacher where else I could find a more open and accepting yoga practice and I explained the behavior of the owner towards me in a non-ad hominem way.  Apparently, this is now known as “shit talking.”  I came home and lit incense and every candle in the house, completely wrecked.  The next 2 days after, my fiancee continued the practice.

Flash back and forward, my fiancee asked me to leave this studio when I was first torn down months before-  but I stayed.  Why?  Because this man was my fiancee’s friend.  In fact, when said man asked what I wanted from him- I answered “friendship”.  To which, he responded “I have no friends, I don’t ‘hang out’ with students”

I replied “I don’t think my fiancee would take that news so well, and it sounds like you live a very lonely life.”

His reply was LIVID….and I can’t remember the exact words, but I remember the anger…and I remember his pride in saying he didn’t tell anyone anything about his life- he just made people think he did.  It struck me as weird as fuck.

Flashbacks after flashbacks, after flashbacks.  the past 3 day have been hell on my psyche.  I have PTSD- and when I am accosted all I can conclude is *I* am the problem.

…I don’t see that a man in his mid 40’s made an ass out of himself, practically foaming at the mouth as he screamed at me outside of the yoga school- after a class he was not even teaching.   Only now am I coming back into myself and into the reality where I am not blaming myself for everything negative in my life.

Yesterday, I was even screaming at Loki  for letting me down- He promised I wouldn’t be hurt again, and there I was hurting and not knowing what I did wrong.  I was told to be myself, but apparently, being myself is “weird”.   According to this self-made yoga guru I am allegedly more “Myself” when I indulge in the idea that I have a chronic illness and find myself in an endless mind-trap that allows for absolutely no joy- but instead unanswerable hypothetical questions no one can answer for me…. that was the only answer of “self” that human accepted of me

“Why did this happen?  What did I do wrong?   All I did was ask for help!  Why am I hurting?  Why isn’t the hurting going away?  Why does it feel like nothing is getting better no matter what I do or think?”  The runes made no sense to me, I felt no deeper sense of connection to the universe, I felt adrift, alone, and frightened that my life as I knew it was ruined.

At which point I took 30mg of Buspar, 300 mg of Seroquel, and 140mg of Valium—– only to fall asleep for 2 entire hours uninterrupted in the middle of the day.  (Yes, those are the correct doses- I am extraordinarily high tolerances to everything since I had severe gynecological problems prior to my hysterectomy that required high doses of Vicodan and Dilaudid to control.)

…and here I still am.  Without knowing the extent of my inner torment, my fiancee first bought me iris’s, then he bought be roses…and then, an aloe plant…his dad even sent me an encouraging text message even though I tried my hardest not to look like anything was wrong with me in front of them.  So when my mind was finished with it’s uncontrolled cycle of pain and insanity I realized that there is nothing that a balding 40-something man with no college degree, and no “friends” can say to him or me that will affect our lives together.   The balding guru said yoga can cure cancer, I have seen him with the flu.

I guess yoga only works on the big stuff.

I had flashbacks of college- of my Sufi professor writing incensed emails when I would finally break from under the strain of his alternate neglect and abuse and ask for help….and he would break me- painfully, with his alternation of words, neglect, and gas-lighting.

…and in asking for help- I became the antagonist.   For the past three days I could not tell really where I was anymore-  Was this Reading, Pa-  or was I back in Moravian dealing with someone I loved who was incapable of loving except when I did exactly as I was told regardless of the personal cost?

Then, this morning, I woke up-  the flashbacks had stopped.  I wasn’t thinking of the yoga studio or Moravian college.   I was here, in bed, with my beautiful fiancee who still loves me.   I still had text messages from the other teacher at the yoga school from the other day where he spent paragraphs writing to me about comic books to make me feel better. I had friends and Ed’s family who cared for me.  I felt like I had finally escaped one negative illusion that seemed inescapable back to reality.  I felt sad, the sense of loss and confusion still- but I did not have the images of the past assaulting my emotions any longer.

I spent three days terrified of that man telling my fiancee lies—-only to learn that in the end, my fiancee loves me enough to not care what ANYONE has to say about me.  That man was not the same man at my college who did, indeed, do that very thing to everyone we mutually knew.

To his credit, the yoga-guru guy said nothing to my fiancee whatsoever.

I don’t really remember much, but at my worst, when I was in such deep pain I was difficult to be around- my fiancee excused himself to go out and buy me flowers.   I can now look around my apartment and see evidence of love everywhere, which would not have been so if the chaos did not occur.

Do I want anything like this to happen again: ABSOLUTELY NOT! But, we survived it, and Ed’s still asleep peacefully with his hand on my leg and his other hand at my hip.   My PTSD is likely not going to disappear soon, and all the wishing in the world will not make it go away—but now I have the reassurance that even at my worst, my love and the best parts of my life will not disappear forever when I get lost in my flashbacks.

In my opinion, Loki is not a God of chaos- but rather the one who understands it.  Loki’s actions are premeditated, and even in the worst case scenario, when it seems like nothing will ever return to normal again;  a Lokian will find things to be better than they were in the first place when the dust settles.

As for yelling at Loki as a Lokian?  Of all the Gods of the pantheon-  He and Odin would be the most used to it…..and Loki, the most forgiving considering people yell at him for far worse things all the time.   He doesn’t lash back, He doesn’t fight, He might say a cutting remark at worst, but mostly, He weathers all storms and keeps His promises….and from my best estimation- understands instead of making things worse.

When I was destroyed by my experience in college He promised I wouldn’t be hurt again….  I have PTSD.  He said nothing about being able to take away the pain of remembering or being reminded of my past.   The pain I felt this weeks wasn’t a new thing- it was a reminder of an old situation, and out of that situation, once I was sane and stable- Loki gave me a rose to let me know I would be protected so I would not be left alone again.  Now, in this particular situation  I look around me and I see a vase full of Irises in my favorite blue, a aloe plant, and an entire miniature rose bush filled with bright red rosebuds….and I realize that I am going to be all right.

Furthermore, all I want to do is just hold my fiancee and give him anything and everything I can for the rest of my life, because I love him, he deserves it, and out of all the gifts I have been given by the Gods- my fiancee is the very best of them all.

…and maybe next time I’ll be bright enough to listen when Ed tells me I need to save myself and go elsewhere if where I am doesn’t fit.   In fact, I think this week I might even have the courage to ask for a new therapist.  My previous one who helped immensely does not take my insurance, but my new one has done me no favors.

A good therapist is better than any yoga studio anyway- and covered by insurance.  I’m sure the $85 I’m saving can be put to better use elsewhere.

I can now think clearly again, I didn’t need to ask more questions that had no answers.  The episode is over.(…but now I’m out of Valium.)  From the place where we bought the aloe plant we picked up a few tootsie rolls to put at the feet of Loki-   a thank you for the end of madness.