Musing Moment 090: There and Back Again – A Warrior’s Tale

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I threw away my pack of cigarettes this evening (please don’t kill me Mother Earth, I love you ❤ ). I talked to John after he got to the air port and wished him a safe trip back to Germany today. I talked with Zane again about the car this evening. He’s going to be biking to work instead of using the car. The car is mine he said. He’s not going to try to get a loan or take it from me. I have a permanent place to stay while I’m here in Orlando for the next two months. I don’t have to worry about the phones, either.

 

I got the urn necklace yesterday. Today I filled it.

 

Today I talked with Sir about our breakup. We have closure for that part of life. And I know I’ve tried writing his name differently. RB. SirRandius. I’ve tried to call him by his real name because “Sir” means something, but I can’t think of him as anything else. I’m Freya, and he’s Sir. And even though we aren’t going to get back together or have any sort of BDSM / relationshipy relationship, I still, in my head, refer to him as Sir, and so instead of having to constantly backspace over my writing, I’m just going to go with it.

 

He has been so supportive through all of this. So many people have. Mother Earth. Sir. My dad. My friends. My boss. My brothers. Strangers. My blogging buddies.

 

I have no idea how I have made it almost a whole month. I have no idea how I have made it past mom’s death. Not only her death but the end of my relationship in the same breath. The end of my current career. Mind you, I chose to end that, but it’s still a pretty intense change in life. And the choice to move three time zones away, though that is now going to be a few months down the road.

 

It’s a lot of change in a short period of time. That’s like… all of my life, beaten, bloody, bruised, and yet here I am. Still writing, still breathing.

 

Somehow I haven’t self-harmed. And the few times I did feel those feelings were because of the relationship stress. The few times I have wanted to manifest my emotional pain into a physical form I haven’t because I know mom wouldn’t want that. And after my therapy session on Thursday those urges went away. After talking and admitting and having an outside perspective on only a handful of my issues I felt more stable, more solid, more like myself than I have in what seems like forever.

 

Somehow I’ve made it through what I think are the hardest parts of this chapter. Honestly I feel like I have started a whole new book. I’ve survived. I have crawled, clawed, and fought my way through everything. Right now I’m in the epilogue before starting something new in Vegas.

 

I had a dream while I was in Vegas. After mom had died. It was about a black widow. I saw her out of the corner of my eye. I was in mom’s bedroom, in the bed, and I saw this spider. I wasn’t scared of her, just aware, watching, seeing what she would do. As I watched I saw baby spiders spawning, morphing, growing on her back.

 

They weren’t widows. They were just spiders. Normal icky spiders, but the more I looked the more there were. Hundreds, thousands, millions of baby spiders squirming all over the widow’s back until they started falling off of her in waves, infesting the room.

 

While the widow herself didn’t bother me, the baby spiders did. My dream self saw the widow as ok, but the baby spiders were bad. Really bad. I had to get rid of them. They were growing, too. Getting bigger. Countless spiders growing and growing and I had to do something.

 

I remembered seeing bug spray under the kitchen sink while I had been cleaning out mom’s things. I ran to the kitchen and got it, then ran back to the room. I sprayed the spiders. Over and over. Each time the spray touched them they would shrivel up and die, turning into a dried up brown husk. I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed, trying to kill all of the spiders.

 

The widow was no where to be seen, but all of the baby spiders twitched and cringed and I mercilessly destroyed their attempts to take over my room. My mom’s room. They weren’t allowed to have it. It was mine, my space, my haven.

 

I remember waking up tired, as if I had fought a war, but I wasn’t scared or sickened by my dream. I felt solid. I wouldn’t let the spiders win.

 

I feel like the widow was me, which I know is hard to see. Spiders are normally thought of as bad things, but they’re actually symbols of power. Black widows are specifically female power.

 

I feel like the baby spiders represented issues and problems. Things that were in some way connected to me. I had created them, or taken them on. Arranging things for mom with the funeral home. Packing up the apartment. Figuring out how to keep people informed. My work situation. The issues with Zane and everything that went with him seeing another person. Processing the fact that mom had died and that the future I had in my head wasn’t going to happen.

 

Millions of thoughts, things, issues, chores, problems. Millions of things that were consuming my life, infesting and overwhelming me.

 

Sitting here today, in front of my computer for the first time, writing, truly writing and not just updating, I feel like I have mercilessly killed most if not all of the spiders that were trying to invade my life.

 

And at the moment I want to cry with relief even though I know there are still things I need to take care of.

 

Sir has been kind enough to let me stay with him and his girlfriend. I have my own room. Sort of. It’s their office, but it’s a room, with a door, and it’s own bathroom, and I have an air mattress to sleep on instead of sleeping on the floor. I have a place to stay and that act of kindness, of opening their home to me, brings me to tears because even after all of this time I feel I do not deserve his friendship.

 

Zane, though he said hurtful things today while we discussed the car, is just as tired of fighting as I am, and let the issue go. Because of that I don’t have to worry about finding a place closer to school. I was looking at staying with Ari, but I’m not sure how much more comfortable I would be there than staying with Zane. And now that I have the car it’s not an issue. I can stay here with Sir, a 20 minute drive from work, and still be able to make it there.

 

Zane says it is my choice to not stay at the apartment, but has agreed to let me pay less in rent. He said once he is able to he will remove me from the lease. He said he wants to mend our friendship. He understands that there’s no longer a place for me in the apartment. And maybe all of that is lip service. Maybe it’s silly of me to feel relief from that, but I do. I feel like the fighting is over. That he will find a way to make life work for him, just like I’m having to find a way to make life work for me in the wake of my entire world changing.

 

I have an arrangement with Clavan. I will be staying for the next two months. By then the life insurance money should be paid so I won’t have to borrow money to move my things to Vegas. I’ll be able to earn a bit more money by continuing to work. I can say goodbye to all of my friends here. I can have closure and do this “properly” rather than rushed. I can earn a few more paychecks and not leave my coworkers screwed, which I really don’t want to do because they have been so supportive and understanding.

 

Frank wants to do one last card night. Clavan wants to do dinner at Chewy’s. I know other people will want to have a final farewell with me, and I know that I will miss them all, so much. So incredibly much.

 

But at the same time I am looking forward to being back with Jason and Lio. I’m looking forward to going to the dojang I found and truly beginning my year. My year of mourning. My year of training. My year of “learning to me”. I’m totally stealing that from you Mamma Spike. ❤

 

I wrote before how I was no longer a teacher, or a student, or a daughter, or a girlfriend. I wrote how I didn’t know who I was because I was none of the things I used to be. And I had so many people write to me and say that those things did not define who I am. I was still me.

 

And they are right. I am still myself.

 

I am still Freya. I am still Jennifer. I am still a warrior. And I am still all of the things I thought I wasn’t.

 

I will always be a student because I learn something new every day. I will continue to learn about myself, the world, and how things work. I will still try new recipes, and find better ways, more efficient ways, to do things. I will still Google stuff that fascinates me, and I will continue to keep an open mind.

 

I am still a teacher, and not just because I’m staying at my job a bit longer. I taught Em, Sir’s girlfriend, how to play Magic the Gathering the other night. I am teaching Hannah how to keep going through life even when it sucks by showing her it’s possible. I’m showing Em that even after a break up it’s possible to still be really good friends with someone. It doesn’t have to be a horrible, “I’m never going to talk to you again” situation, even if it feels like it at the time. I’m teaching myself how to be kind and patient with my emotions because collected as I may sound through my writing, my emotions are seriously all over the place still.

 

I’m still a daughter because my mom is still with me. She’s in me. In my actions, in my laugh, in my eyes, in my soul, and that’s never going to change. I’m a daughter because even though my dad wasn’t around for band competitions, or to hear my speech at my college graduation, or any number of other events in my life that might have meant a lot to me at the time, he was here when I needed him the most.

 

He answered the phone every time I called to update about mom. He let me cry when I told him she had passed away. He flew out to be there for the service, and even though those three days were really hard, they are currently the best days in my mind because for those days I didn’t have to be an adult, at least not often.

 

Dad was there. I wasn’t the oldest. I wasn’t the most responsible. It was ok to admit that it hurt and that I was sad and scared and angry. He let me drink and made sure I was still ok. It was the first time we ever had drinks together.

 

My dad wasn’t around for a lot of things. But he was there when I legitimately needed him to be there, and I didn’t have to ask it of him. He stepped up and was the parent I needed him to be. The support. The friend. And it’s another thing that may be silly, our relationship may never be anything other than those three days, but I am so grateful for them. I am still a daughter because I still have a dad, and even if I don’t understand his way of showing it all the time, I know, unquestionably, that he still loves me, because when mom couldn’t be there, he was.

 

As for the girlfriend thing. I don’t know. Maybe I was never a girlfriend. Maybe I was silly through the whole thing because I don’t understand how it was able to become such a negative relationship. Sir and I talked about it for a little bit and I mentioned how I felt like a frog in my relationships.

 

If you put frogs in a pot of cool water they won’t try to get away. You can turn the burner on and the water will slowly kill them, and the frogs won’t do anything because they don’t notice the water slowly heating up until it’s too late.

 

I said that I felt it was like that. The things that should be warning signs are so small, so unnoticeable, that I don’t realize how negative the relationship is until I’m boiling and there’s nothing that can save it.

 

I need to stop being a frog and be the earth dragon that I know I am. I should have stopped letting myself feel unloved and unappreciated. I should have done something more after I voiced my concerns and realized that nothing was changing.

 

April 4th 2016 I added two new labels to my collection. Two new identifiers for who I am.

 

Matriarch.

 

I am a warrior. I am a survivor. I am a writer, artist, and creative. I am intelligent, strong, and honest. I am a daughter, sister, and aunt.

 

And on April 4th, 2016 I became the matriarch of my family tree.

 

I also became an adult. For the first time in my life I stood before people and understood what that word meant. It’s not something that I can explain I don’t think but I’m going to try anyway.

 

Mom was my sun. She was the soft glow that made everything seem warm and happy and good and right. When it was dark, she was there lighting my way and helping me to not stumble.

 

It’s like there was a color shift in my world. It’s not that things are gray and lifeless. But I see things as they are, rather than tinted with the yellow warmth of mom’s light.

 

I guess it can be compared to rose tinted glasses.

 

Instead of mom’s light being outside, guiding me, in front of me, it became internal. I am the light now. I’m the one guiding others. Because the light is inside me I see things differently, they look different, feel different.

 

Sometimes it’s hard to remember that different doesn’t mean bad. But eventually I do remember that fact. Things are different, and I’m still not used to these differences, but I’m getting better. I’m not used to this “adult” feeling. I’m not used to these new mantles. One mantle I wasn’t expecting to receive for years to come, and the other I never realized I hadn’t actually attained.

 

They’re new, and each are heavy in their own way, but I’m learning how to shoulder these new weights, and even though I still stumble, after all it hasn’t even been a full month yet, somehow I am still going, and I fully believe it is because there are so many supportive, caring, loving people in my life who are determined to not let me fall.

 

There are so many people helping me, who take my calls when I randomly need to hear about someone else’s day so I don’t get lost inside my own head, or who message me out of nowhere saying they are thinking of me, or who randomly come in while I’m fighting with an air mattress and say how even after all this time, after everything that has happened between us in the past, that I’m still beautiful.

 

Yes, I’m girly, and hearing that I’m beautiful while I’m icky and sweaty and worried about my pride being beaten by an inanimate object after a horrific breakup is almost as amazing and being given a container of Talenti salted caramel ice cream and being told to change into comfy pjs because we’re about to binge watch Game of Thrones. Which, by the way, I’m totally content with the first episode of the new season, because my opinion of the new episode is totally relevant information right now.

 

I still have a ton of things to take care of, but things like filing my taxes seems so ridiculously easy in comparison to everything else that I’ve had to take care of this year, and it’s not even May yet. And yes, I know my taxes are late, and if that’s the only thing that I’ve dropped the ball on then I think I’m doing pretty well and anyone who doesn’t think I’m a total BAMF can go get punched in the face… with love… tough love… I promise I’m not a violent person…

 

Anyway, I’m all written out, and I didn’t even really get into how my therapy session went, or any of the stuff going on with the estate, or other lame things that I can’t think of because they’re lame and unimportant.

 

Life has been really hard. Parts of it have sucked. Hard core. And other parts of it have been amazing and healing and given me the closure that I needed. I have had mountains and valleys, demons and angels alike.

 

I have made it there and back again, and I am all the stronger for it.

 

Here’s to closing out tonight, and to tomorrow. Another new day.

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Musing Moment 090: There and Back Again – A Warrior’s Tale

  1. Hi Freya or Jennifer or whatever your name is, I don’t really know. What I do know after reading this post is that you’re a survivor, you’re a strong woman and although you may have days when you don’t believe it you are so much stronger and resilient than you think.
    I remember when my dad died many years ago my sister had dreams of spiders. So similar to what you described. And I think you were right when you said they symbolised issues in your life that you’re dealing with. But you won. And you’ll continue to win, even if you have some days when you feel beaten down again. Sounds as though you’ve come a long way and I wish you continued strength on your journey.
    Hugs to you as you find and hold onto that inner peace. It’s the most important thing we can have in our lives. Cherish it and don’t let it go.
    Hugs to you my friend. xox

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I almost broke out into song in the middle of this. It sounded so much like an anthem! I’ve got a smile for you on the other side of the country, friend, because you’ve got this. It’s messy and unpredictable and there’s a lot more “deal with it” to come, but you’ve got this.

    Thanks for the shout out, by the way. I’ve adopted that little, made-up “learning to me” mantra as a personal reminder to be nice to myself. No matter how well I think I know myself, my experiences change me, and my reactions sometimes confuse me. But there are times when I know exactly what I’m up to, so I give myself some room to do what I do. And I’ve decided, unequivocally, that I am pretty damn awesome.

    Liked by 2 people

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