Last week was perfect. Except that it didn't last quite 7 days. But it was so excellent that it couldn't even be derailed by...
Well, that can wait.
The week started on Tuesday with my birthday. My birthday used to be my favorite holiday. Christmas, Halloween, New Years all as meaningless as Arbor Day.
That is until 2006. Four straight birthdays were ruined, one by accidental physical illness, 3 by untreated mental illness, not my own.
I had actually given up on my birthday. I wasn't only not going to celebrate them, but wasn't going to acknowledge them, they'd been so poisoned.
No longer keeping company with the one who ruined the day I decided to let it happen. I was flooded with birthday wishes. I was warmed, and cheered, and felt loved.
I had only 2 wishes for the day itself: 1) that the day be as stressfree as possible; 2) that I spend the evening with my lady, Andrea.
Scored on both.
I'd some small fear that someone with a knack for ruining my good mood would try and inflict themselves upon the day, but that didn't happen.
What did happen was I had exactly the time with Andrea that I wanted. No, there will be no details. But it was wonderful. And...vigorous.
It was such a perfect time that I no longer had any of the fear of feeling I'd been experiencing for months. No longer was I afraid of deep emotion or knowing that I felt such. It was like waking up healed. I had a heart, and it was so full...
Those who've known me a long time can imagine my surprise in finding that I'd been shielding myself from emotions, but after the events of last fall I shouldn't have been surprised at all.
These months I've had this wonderful woman, and I finally could feel about her how she deserves.
(As of this writing I've still been nervous/shy/cryptic/(too)subtle about actually saying a certain phrase to her, but baby steps.)
The whole week went this way, with creativity, and exercise, and her, and her ridiculous dogs.
There were conversations with friends, and good times in general.
Then Saturday and the Supermoon. Andrea and I went to the beach to see it, and she got some awesome shots of it. It was a rare occasion for me in that I didn't experience a moon-triggered manic; I felt serene, and happy.
That week I spent every minute I was with Andrea looking at her, and feeling utterly full of love, grateful to be with her, wanting to touch, be touched, wrap around. It was rather awesome.
I haven't had such a run of days in a long time, and never have they come with a certainty of their rightness. I've always had nagging doubts, about whomever I was with, or myself, or someone else.
Now, nonesuch.
So. Sunday night. We are in the middle of...A Moment. My phone goes off. It's The Thing I Used To Be Married To. She with her psychic ability to call at just the wrong time. For no good reason. Not going into every Inspector Clouseau detail of my handling of the ringing; suffice it to say the Moment was ruined.
But not the week. A few minutes of anger, and annoyance, and once I'd burned it off it was done.
I went to bed and tried not to cuddle too much, as Andrea had work in the morning. But laying there next to her, I slept soundly, and without nightmares. Another welcome change.
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Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
M-O-O-N that spells lycanthropy
I've long had a mythology about the moon and my life. The fact that I can start of saying it's mythology says something about the passage of time, and that I am not the eye-liner-sporting, Bauhaus-shirt-wearing, drawing-witch-symbols-on-my-leather-jacket ball of self-congratulatory nonsense that I once was.
The whole myth I have about my relation to the moon is wrapped up in some odd facts about my family, specifically my mother and her line:
1. We are allergic to silver. She told me this many times, but I had to prove it to myself because when you're 17 no one knows anything but you, especially not your parents. I got my ear pierced multiple times at once. I started with a pair of gold studs just in case she was right, and finished with 3 silver ones a few days later after being made fun of for the gold. Within a week my ear was infected to horror movie standards in spite of meticulous hygiene, and my immune system had been erased leaving me with pneumonia that kept me out of school for a month. "I told you we were allergic to silver". I told you so. Thanks mom.
Since then I've limited my contact with that metal, but found that the allergy is quite real, if uncommon. In the US, anyway.
2. We are extremely carnivorous. We eat red meat in amounts that make other people cringe, with definitions of "fully cooked" that cause arguments with other people. When I was a teenager I developed a craving. This was beyond the munchies of the pot I'd just smoked in the living room; this was a full on, belly-rumbling, must-have-it need: meat. Now. There was only a package of raw hamburger. I started to drool a little, probably because I was stoned. I tore a small hole in the plastic wrap that could be closed leaving no evidence, and got myself a small ball of ground moo-cow.
It. Was. Heavenly. I took one more chunk, this time salting a it little, and closed up the package.
For years I would snack so, ground beef, steaks, what have you, only taking moo-cow raw, having enough sense to avoid pig and poultry. But I kept this secret from people. I knew it was a little...off.
Until I came down stairs late one night and found my mother eating raw hamburger straight from the package. I was miffed because that's what I was coming for. She startled as though caught in a terrible act. Attempting to steal back some dignity she looked at me and said in a perfectly normal manner "Christopher. Would you like some?"
I continued the eating of raw moo-cow until about 30 when I could no longer put down the fear of pathogens. That's not to say the craving isn't there, but rare will suffice, rather than raw.
3. We, being bi-polar can become beasts. While both of my parents have a frightening temper it's only my mother's that ever made me fear for my safety. Apparently my temper is quite the same, though my standards for reaching that level are much different.
I've even noticed that different phases of the moon produce different moods for me, or that different moods coincide with the phases. However you need to read it.
My conclusion when I was young: we were werewolves, of a bloodline diluted by mixing with humans for so long. Now I tend to think of the perfectly reasonable medical explanations for these facts, and am content with them.
I mention my personal mythology to emphasize that lunar activity has long held a significant place in my understanding of my life. Now:
Super Full Moon on Saturday.
This has some major fascination for me. The last Super Full Moon was a week before I turned 21. That was the beginning of some serious awfulness, as the legal sanctioning of my alcoholism mounted my depressive tendencies to sire a Monstrous Depressive Episode that lasted years. Even after the initial depression lifted the self-destructive self-medication continued until I was 30.
From 21 to 30 was a period of my life marred by moments of extraordinary darkness. I won't detail any of them right now; I'm just amazed I never succumbed to them. There is still some major rubble marking my path in those years.
What has this to do with the moon? Rationally, nothing. In my magical-thinking, hypersensitive-to-certain-patterns mind quite a lot. Whenever an event similar to one that began a period of time occurs I see it as the possible closing of a circle. Even if that event didn't cause the time period, even if it was mere coincidence, I can't help but ascribing it magical significance.
Regardless of the presence, or lack of magic, such thinking makes me reflect on my life, and really take stock of it. I look back now on some of the things I did in the aforementioned time of my life and can honestly say that I know better, that I would not do these things, that I would make better decisions, that I would not be so childish, or beastly.
I was a frightened, selfish boy in man size. This moon signals that I have transformed from that, and that the time for blind, needless destruction is well over. The darkness has lifted, as signaled by the rise of this moon.
The whole myth I have about my relation to the moon is wrapped up in some odd facts about my family, specifically my mother and her line:
1. We are allergic to silver. She told me this many times, but I had to prove it to myself because when you're 17 no one knows anything but you, especially not your parents. I got my ear pierced multiple times at once. I started with a pair of gold studs just in case she was right, and finished with 3 silver ones a few days later after being made fun of for the gold. Within a week my ear was infected to horror movie standards in spite of meticulous hygiene, and my immune system had been erased leaving me with pneumonia that kept me out of school for a month. "I told you we were allergic to silver". I told you so. Thanks mom.
Since then I've limited my contact with that metal, but found that the allergy is quite real, if uncommon. In the US, anyway.
2. We are extremely carnivorous. We eat red meat in amounts that make other people cringe, with definitions of "fully cooked" that cause arguments with other people. When I was a teenager I developed a craving. This was beyond the munchies of the pot I'd just smoked in the living room; this was a full on, belly-rumbling, must-have-it need: meat. Now. There was only a package of raw hamburger. I started to drool a little, probably because I was stoned. I tore a small hole in the plastic wrap that could be closed leaving no evidence, and got myself a small ball of ground moo-cow.
It. Was. Heavenly. I took one more chunk, this time salting a it little, and closed up the package.
For years I would snack so, ground beef, steaks, what have you, only taking moo-cow raw, having enough sense to avoid pig and poultry. But I kept this secret from people. I knew it was a little...off.
Until I came down stairs late one night and found my mother eating raw hamburger straight from the package. I was miffed because that's what I was coming for. She startled as though caught in a terrible act. Attempting to steal back some dignity she looked at me and said in a perfectly normal manner "Christopher. Would you like some?"
I continued the eating of raw moo-cow until about 30 when I could no longer put down the fear of pathogens. That's not to say the craving isn't there, but rare will suffice, rather than raw.
3. We, being bi-polar can become beasts. While both of my parents have a frightening temper it's only my mother's that ever made me fear for my safety. Apparently my temper is quite the same, though my standards for reaching that level are much different.
I've even noticed that different phases of the moon produce different moods for me, or that different moods coincide with the phases. However you need to read it.
My conclusion when I was young: we were werewolves, of a bloodline diluted by mixing with humans for so long. Now I tend to think of the perfectly reasonable medical explanations for these facts, and am content with them.
I mention my personal mythology to emphasize that lunar activity has long held a significant place in my understanding of my life. Now:
Super Full Moon on Saturday.
This has some major fascination for me. The last Super Full Moon was a week before I turned 21. That was the beginning of some serious awfulness, as the legal sanctioning of my alcoholism mounted my depressive tendencies to sire a Monstrous Depressive Episode that lasted years. Even after the initial depression lifted the self-destructive self-medication continued until I was 30.
From 21 to 30 was a period of my life marred by moments of extraordinary darkness. I won't detail any of them right now; I'm just amazed I never succumbed to them. There is still some major rubble marking my path in those years.
What has this to do with the moon? Rationally, nothing. In my magical-thinking, hypersensitive-to-certain-patterns mind quite a lot. Whenever an event similar to one that began a period of time occurs I see it as the possible closing of a circle. Even if that event didn't cause the time period, even if it was mere coincidence, I can't help but ascribing it magical significance.
Regardless of the presence, or lack of magic, such thinking makes me reflect on my life, and really take stock of it. I look back now on some of the things I did in the aforementioned time of my life and can honestly say that I know better, that I would not do these things, that I would make better decisions, that I would not be so childish, or beastly.
I was a frightened, selfish boy in man size. This moon signals that I have transformed from that, and that the time for blind, needless destruction is well over. The darkness has lifted, as signaled by the rise of this moon.
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