The Long, Sad Tale of WOE


First, this isn’t sadfishing. Honest. Just a combination of venting, warning, and attempting to laugh at the ridiculousness of life as it is in this bizarre timeline we’ve found ourselves in. We’re okay. Shaken, sure, but essentially still in the good fight. 

Why is it that it has taken me so freaking long to get to this blog? To get my storefront layouts done? To hangout on social media? It’s a long, sad, tale of woe (therefore the title! 🤣) With a deeeeep breath, I’ll dive in, and hopefully keep this under 1000 words!

First, a little background. Hubs and I are both diabetic. I’m not yet stabilized (I’m working on it!) and he is. He’s actually able to control his sugars with just diet and exercise. Yep, I’m jealous. We’ve got a lot of other little problems as well, I like to call refer to them as “the death of 1000 cuts” because nothing individually is life threatening, but altogether they’re complicated.

During the pandemic, two of those complications happened to Hubs. First, there was a blocked blood vessel behind his left eye. This meant that he’d be having a series of injections in that eye. (YIKES) Second, after his second Covid Jab, he developed Shingles. In his right eye.

Let’s say right here and now, Vaccines are a mixed blessings. The Vaxx that protects us from Covid can mess with the immune system of those of us who are compromised, and that’s what happened to Hubs. However, the Vaxx for Shingles protected MY BUTT, so I’m more than a little appreciative of that. Everyone has to pick their poisons, but let me tell you, as someone who has never even had Chicken Pox, I was EXTREMELY eager to get that Vaxx, and I’ll forever be happy about that decision. Shingles is nothing to mess with.

Hubs is currently employed in an extremely visual craft, working for an architectural engineering firm where he’s responsible, primarily, for the layout of plumbing and fire protection. Tiny lines. Everywhere. Not easy to do when both eyes are compromised.

After steadily improving for over two years in his right eye (the Shingles eye), he suddenly had difficulty seeing again. (I was extremely lucky that I was able to get my cornea surgeries in while he was able to drive in between!). The glaucoma doc said there wasn’t anything else he could do, and sent him to another specialist. Thankfully, it was the same doctor who’d done my corneal surgeries. We absolutely trust her and adore her, honestly. She’s freaking amazing.

We’re in an HMO, of course, and so armed with the appropriate referral from his PCP, we made the appointments and continued with treatment. Turned out that Hubs had two ruptures in his right eye. Two. Ulcers, she called them. No idea how that happened, and we were a little freaked out, especially when she said that one of those was extremely large, looked like it was getting longer, and it was deep. If it got deeper, it could actually cause his eye to…well, burst. All the liquid from his eye would come pouring out and…alright, we were freaking out with good reason.

After trying several things, and doing many tests, emergency surgery was finally set up about two weeks later. Emergency enough for her to schedule him in the morning before her office hours. Thankfully, there’s a surgery center attached to her practice, so we got there really early in the morning on July 1st and she sewed the large ulcer together, and then his eyelid was sewn shut so that it would heal properly without stress.

In the meantime, I was diagnosed with a retinopathy. Fortunately, it was caught early enough that our retinal doctor (the same one giving Hubs injections in his left eye) said I’d be able to have the laser procedure instead of injections. Whew. That’s the second time my vision diagnosis has been what I refer to as a “one and done.” Surgery was scheduled, and I made the call to get my referrals.

Now, we’re in a bit of a flashback here, because my retinopathy diagnosis actually happened a couple of weeks before the surgery for Hubs’ right eye. Mid-June, to be exact. The week before my procedure, the eye clinic called me to cancel my appointment. They were no longer taking referrals from our primary doctors’ practice.

WTF??!!??

It took some poking around, but I found the reason. After several phone calls to the insurance company and doctors offices, I found it on Google. Of course I did. The doctors’ practice had filed for bankruptcy. Neither our doctors, nor the insurance company was aware of that. OR at least our doctors offices didn’t admit to it. This practice had over 40 doctors and almost a thousand patients. It’s possible the doctors knew, or some did and some didn’t. At any rate, they had not yet informed their patients OR our insurance company. I’ve no idea if they told any of the others.

So hey, Luigi? I get you. I didn’t go there, but I totally feel it.

We were informed by the insurance company that specialists’ contracts were in effect until October. We were given continuation or transition of care forms, and were told to pay the specialists up front and remit ourselves for payment, so that’s what we’ve been doing. It’s painful, because it’s a lot of money up front. Especially for surgery. And those injections are about a grand a piece.

The end of of this story? Our doctors’ practice declined to sign a new contract with our insurance company because they wanted more money per capita from them. Greedy bastards. This means that we’re no longer able to see our doctors, and for someone with a LOT of medical anxiety, that really hurts me. But I kept my therapist, so that’s a kind of fair trade. I might be alright. The only other doctors in our town were booked through December 2027, but we found some that weren’t too far away with a much larger practice through a local hospital. We’ll have to readjust, it’s a different hospital, different specialists. Hubs is debating paying out of pocket for our retinal doctor, because he’s out of network now, but he keeps his other specialists and gets back his endocrinologist so that’s just about even.

Will I ever go back? I’ll want to, that’s for sure. My doctor is…amazing. Sheesh, I still think of her as “my doctor.” But I can’t trust that practice now. Hubs is going to be looking for a job soon (a whole different tale of woe), so our insurance might change but still, they dropped the ball big time by not giving anyone warning ahead of time, and then being greedy and refusing a new contract. I’ve never before even heard of a medical practice declaring bankruptcy, so I feel they’re horribly mismanaged. I keep hoping my doctor will move to a different practice and solve it all for me, but I’m not her only patient, I know that.

The good news? We’ll never need another referral to see the doctor who just did Hubs’ eye surgery…

Hopefully I’ll be around more often now. This week was the first week with only one medical appointment, so our schedule is mellowing out significantly. I’m getting more work done too, just finished laying out all the Anubis products! He’s looking magnificent, as He should!

Again, I’m not begging for likes 😉but I’d love any likes or comments you’d feel like leaving me. Needless to say, it’s been a rough couple of months! Thanks as always for reading! Until next time…

~*~Camylleon~*~

Autism-Adjacent, Part Two: Hopefully a Conclusion


I have to begin this post with an apology. I haven’t been ignoring you all, It’s been a helluva roller coaster ride with health issues around here. Enough for a completely different post…

So, now where did I leave off…? Oh, yeah. The BIG, BAD DIAGNOSIS!

To be absolutely honest, I was aware of this “condition.” I’ve known since childhood. Thing is, I also honestly thought it didn’t fit me anymore. Like I grew out of it or something.

I guess not.

I was too ashamed to admit this publicly at first. It’s just embarrassing, especially as it’s not a “real” diagnosis. If you ask me, it ought to be. It’s every bit as difficult, socially and mentally, as the two (or more) conditions its related to. Problem is that, much like autism, people who don’t have the condition would never believe it. The bullying alone is damaging enough.

Granted, there are a lot of my “side conditions” that haven’t got much at all to do with the BIG diagnosis. Then again, there are definitely some that came right from it or were indirectly a cause. Like my anxiety, for instance. I do still believe I was genetically more vulnerable to that. However, my Mom had been badly bullied as a child and so was incredibly worried about me when it started to affect me as early as Kindergarten. So, what did she do? Like anyone trying to protect a child, she helicoptered. She and the mother of a friend of mine who was also a bullying victim, started a Brownie group. She was a room mother at my school. She was constantly watching me out the kitchen window unless I was at someone else’s house. I had very strict rules as far as where I was allowed to go and when, and even in the summer we were in the house after dinner, which was at the ridiculously early hour of 4 pm. Those are just examples, of course. There was so much, much more. But in understanding her, I can’t blame her. I just focus on my own healing.

So, what on EARTH is the big, bad diagnosis?

Well, this Venn Diagram is it. Yep. I’m not Autistic. It’s not ADHD, it’s not even OCD which is another affiliated condition (although I do have many similarities with that one, too…dammit.)

No, I’m GIFTED. WTF. Seriously. This is another one of those situations where people who have no idea what this means think it’s a “good” condition. Take a look at this diagram, though. Good? No. Honestly. It’s like people who have been plagued by the dead since they were children which is also called a “gift.” If you’ve ever met someone who encountered these Spirits as children, I’d say I doubt that it’s a gift. Seems more often to be a curse to those who suffer with it. And it’s the same thing with me. If you think being a teacher’s pet is hard, imagine what the entire school knowing your “gifted” does. It ain’t no fun, I’ll tell you that.

And although I know all that having lived with it all my life, it’s something I did start beginning to believe I’d grown out of it. Everyone else in the world had somehow caught up to me, I was completely normal. I don’t know. Maybe that was my self-defense system finally kicking in. Unfortunately, one of the major differences between gifted and autism is in the realm of emotion. My emotions are…insanely intense. INSANELY. I can’t hold them in, I can’t pretend I feel differently, I’ve never had to “mask” to fake emotions but damn straight I wish I’d been able to mask to hide my emotions.

That just made the bullying worse. When a bully smells blood in the water like that, they don’t stop, they beat harder. Then, to complicate things even further, I had no understanding from my home life. I was constantly told to toughen up, it wasn’t that big a deal, fight back with words. Granted, my words are one of my strongest weapons, but have I mentioned I don’t “fight or flight?” Nope. I “freeze or fawn.” That makes it DAMN hard to think quick and fight back with words or not.

Things were briefly better for me in Junior High as I had a large group of “outcast” friends. We looked out for each other. Three of them had been in my grade school class with me. Which was, btw, for “gifted children.”

My husband and his brother were in that class with me as well. 😉

The additional complication that gifted people have, above and beyond the symptoms and the bullying, is the profound feeling of failure and depression that occurs. No matter what you do or where you are in life, you’re not up to the expectations everyone placed on you as a gifted child. My life hasn’t been easy because of that. I expected the absolutely best just like everyone else did for me. At the end of the day, however, I failed at working, I failed at finances, I failed at a business, and to add salt to the wound (womb?) we were unable to have children making me a failure at even being a woman, a very basic thing. Maybe even the most basic. On top of all the oddities and eccentricities in my behavior that put the target on my back, the expectations of myself and others caused a lot of mental anguish. But, you know, I wasn’t supposed to actually show those feelings.

If you’re wondering, yes, you can have more than one condition the answer is, “yes”. Some of you might be even more complicated than you knew. It’s kind of hard-to-find resources online about adult gifted people. There are a few books on the subject, but to be honest I haven’t read any of them yet, so I can’t honestly recommend them. When I do, I’ll be sure to share them here.

And here we are at over 1000 words again. I told you my words are my weapons! Feel free to ask me anything you want. I guess it’s out on the table for the world to see now. Therapy is very helpful for this. My self-esteem is slowly coming back, my anxiety is slowly receding, and I’m starting to understand the things that trigger me. I can’t say that I have embraced being “gifted,” as I don’t know that I feel gifted yet.

I guess that’s the next mountain to climb.

And I don’t usually say this, but “likes” and comments would be warmly welcomed. This is probably the hardest blog I’ve written yet.

~*~ Camylleon~*~

Fashionably Late(er), Part Two: #OcculTea


Finally, I get back to this blog and the next part of the #OcculTea discussion. It took me long enough, didn’t it?

We’re on Topic 2 today: Influencer Authenticity. Alright, I don’t consider myself an “Influencer.” Let’s face facts, most people have no idea who I am. Yet, lol. My opinions on this are definitely from the outside looking in, for the most part. I am on the Internet, so there will be a few things I’ll comment on from my own perspective, though.

Out of what I share on social media, how much of it is staged vs reality?:

At the moment, I don’t share anything personal in the way of religious or magical work online. I’m not sure where I’m standing with that at the moment.

I can’t see myself sharing pictures or videos of what I’m actually doing, no matter how picturesque they might be. There’s a number of reasons why not do to such things, in my opinion. I might share pictures or videos if I ever did work for someone else; but I’d only share it with them, not the entire World Wide Web.

What do I think staged vs reality is another question. And from this “outsider” I’m going to say that a good 95% of what is depicted online is staged, or outright faked. What can I say, I’m a skeptic.

This is where things start to get reallllllllly interesting

Do I think there is an element of censorship in online spaces? How do I decipher what is “appropriate” to share online vs what to keep privately? Is this based on “social media etiquette” or a personal preference?

Censorship. That’s a loaded word these days. There is some actual censorship in that each platform has its rules and regulations on what can be said on it. Its absolutely understandable. So yes, there is censorship but its nothing to be fearful of or angry about.

Is there peer-pressure based censorship? That’s another question. To my mind, most of that is related again, to which platform you’re talking about. But yes, it is out there, and on some platforms its out of control.

TikTok. TikTok is TikToxic. I have witnessed creators on that platform being canceled. Actually canceled. Not just bullied, but run off the platform (in one case several times) because of a video that somehow “offended”. Who did the video offend? Too often its defensive of someone who was allegedly defended. SO many white knights flying to defend the theoretically offended person of color.

Misunderstanding is rife; the vast majority of anger ridden youngsters (most of them are Gen Z) have no idea what they’re talking about, and there’s no explaining it. As a matter of fact, the more the victim tries to explain their stand, the worse the screams of APPROPRIATION!!!

They take everything out of its context. They do not have much knowledge of cultural history or what who did when or got what from whom. And they don’t care. They’re right.

There’s too damn much of that in the world. Everyone would rather be right than do the right thing.

How do I decipher what is “appropriate” to share online vs what to keep privately? Is this based on “social media etiquette” or a personal preference?

As far as the written word goes, I’d say I share just about everything that is mine to share. I’ll change names when its not mine to share. I don’t share information about other people, just myself. I don’t know if I’d say that’s necessarily “social media etiquette” as much as it is “media etiquette” as it was considered polite well before the Internet came around.

As far as pictorial evidence of what I do, or where I work (altars, etc.) I ask. Its really that simple. Its the same idea as changing names or not sharing stories that are not mine; if I take a picture of an altar, whichever altar, its not a picture of me. Its a picture of their space, and so its only polite to ask first.

I’d say its not quite either, then. Its really just polite, plain old etiquette. shrug

Have I ever encountered or heard of grifters in our community? Do I recognize them? What are significant signs of grifters in our community?

Now its getting juicy!

Yes. I have encountered grifters; grifters of many shapes and sizes, so to speak.

My favorite was a TikTok fellow who got angry and was trying to insult another creator, saying that she couldn’t even manage a basic glamor spell.

Ummmm…if you have to rely on and constantly use glamor spells to get work doing spells through TikTok? You’re not much of a witch. I know more than one who, with NO social media at all, NO glamor spells at all, is not only one of the most accurate witches I’ve ever known, she’s never had trouble finding work. It finds her.

The only thing that witch is fit to sell would be glamor spells. I wouldn’t trust him with any other work. Is he intentionally grifting? I wouldn’t make the accusation because I really don’t know. But I know he can’t be trusted, and that people are apparently paying him to conduct spellwork for them. Or at least that’s what he likes to make it look like online.

I suppose that’s one of the signs of a grifter, just being educated enough to know what is what, and logic enough to put 2 + 2 together.

Intuition will play in as well. Listening to that still, small voice that is screaming at you. Sometimes its much more abrupt and simple to see. That DM from that influencer with hundreds of thousands of followers that you adore, suddenly out of the blue, saying she got a feeling off of your picture and wants to “give” you a reading.

Personally, when I’m in the mood I love playing with those people. One of them said they had gotten a “feeling” off of my picture, when I was using a crystal formation as my pic. That was classic. They got SO upset they said my son would be dead in 24 hours. I don’t have any sons, let alone biological children.

Both my daughters adopted me when they were not only adults, but had their own children. I adore them like they were my own, and have known them since their vulnerable teenage years, but they’re not technically or legally my actual children.

The grifting of that sort is rife everywhere, on every platform on the internet. I’ve encountered it. But then, there are mundane scammers everywhere, so I’m not surprised in the least.

I despise, however, the ones who are obviously using their platforms to convince people to buy things that are absolutely wrong or unnecessary. Okay, I don’t know a witch alive who can resist crystals, that’s not worrisome in the least. But those lemon hex videos just make me want to scream. And cord cutting…so much cord cutting.

So there’s a lot of nonsense out there. Coincidentally I’m sure it occasionally appears to work, and so brings business. What’s that phrase, “a sucker is born every minute”? Its true. I don’t have any problem with it, honestly, except that they are requesting FAR TOO MUCH MONEY for services rendered, in most cases.

What tools are helpful to decipher information, and how can we as a community prevent widespread misinformation?

I’ve found, at least for me, that there’s a back-and-forth that’s necessary to ascertain truth. I’m an academic type, so I would stick to actual books, the nerdier the better. However, sticking to historical and/or archaeological resources only recreates a dead religion. Mine’s a living one.

In the witchcraft world, I’ve found some good information from books as well, but that alone isn’t going to assure the information is accurate, or that those spells work for your circumstances.

Experience combined with academics, combined with experience, combined with divination is the answer for me, at least. I’ve also found that discussions with someone whose opinion I trust can help clear out cobwebs when my logic isn’t logicking.

This is the real problem because I’ve seen so many people who want to jump right from wanting to be a powerful witch without any studying or practice or anything at all much. Read a book, and BAM! You’re a witch. Because, you know, after all, intention is the only thing that matters. That sentence alone has made more trouble in the witchcraft world than nearly any other sentence uttered. At least in the last 10 years or so.

What can the community do?

First problem, what community?

I’ve tried, very hard, in the past, to find such a beast. And I’ve failed horribly. For a number of reasons, several times actually, and I’ve learned a lot from both that experience and therapy. I don’t feel there is a community.

I feel there are people who think they ought to be in charge of a community. There are those who think they know what’s wrong, who’s wrong, and how to fix it all. But in a non-community full of people who don’t agree on more than one point at any one time, its awful hard to set “rules.”

Threefold law? Harm none? No particular rules at all? Black/white? Wait…no…its baneful now, not black. Grey? Polytheist? Witch? Wiccan? Heathen?

Its not a non-community, I suppose, as much as it is a loose affiliation of communities and loners who can’t agree on anything anyway, except perhaps their hatred of Christianity in most cases. That’s a whole different subject.

I don’t know that a non-community that can’t agree on what is correct and what isn’t correct can actually self-regulate scammers. Its bad enough now that the self-regulating world of TikTok likes to scream “APPROPRIATION!!!” any time a white person pulls out an egg. It just doesn’t seem possible or even a good idea to me.

How does a large following impact the perception of the creator? Does this immediately make them an “expert”? Or are there other assumptions as to why they may have a large following?

long, drawn out sigh…

I think my FB page for the business is about to hit 800, if I remember correctly. Yeah. NOT a big influencer/creator, not even close. So this one is definitely as seen from the outside!

Yes. It does impact the perception of the creator. For me, its for the worse. I don’t trust large creators as far as witchcraft or paganism goes. I’m actually less likely to believe them, normally. There’s a scale there. If there’s something they’ve done or are doing that I admire I might give them a little more authority. Maybe. On rare occasion. And honestly, that goes to everything.

Smaller creators have their place in the internet world, and honestly I trust them more. Not only because they’re smaller, and seem less of a “sell out,” but because they’re reachable. If I leave a comment, or a question, they’re more likely to see it and respond.

Larger creators don’t give an ish. You’re just a number, just another ad they’ve sold, or a potential client, or a potential buyer. Not a potential friend, rival, ally, consultant, conspirator, etc.

Larger creators also seem more fake to me. Maybe its just because they’re better produced, can spend money on a professional editor, and really good props. They pay attention to background and lighting, whereas a lot of us are lucky to upgrade a cell phone to film on.

They’re also, by and large, more attractive. Not necessarily physically although that’s a lot of it. Everything’s more attractive. They’re frolicking in deep woods amongst the bluebells, not a public park. They’re drinking herbal tea out of a classy cup-and-saucer instead of a tea bag out of a cheap mug. They have all the asthetics and none of the content.

Some of that, I believe, is also that to get to thousands of followers, you have to put out a lot of content. For some creators, its the same old Wicca 101 over-and-over-and-over. In order to keep your consumers coming back, you really do have to find that niche and stay in it. Making sure you give those consumers what they want.

Dear gods, that sounds dreadful to me.

I can see, easily, how dreadful and boring that could get. How it would suck the inspiration out of the creator and leave them feeling, and sounding flat. They might realize what’s happening, they might not. *shrug*

I don’t follow large creators, for the most part. Larger than me, sure, because everyone is. 😀 But the really big ones? No. I mean, some of that is because there aren’t that many creators covering information I would want.

I will say though, that’s true of most topics but not all. There are some history YouTube channels that I adore, and they’re pretty huge. They’re informational and entertainment, but generally I know just enough about the history they’re covering to get out if its not quite right.

How does one maintain the balance of authenticity and content creation?

To thine own self be true

That’s it. The creators that I will follow, regardless of size, are the ones that are authentically themselves. They speak from their heart, often off the cuff with no script or preconceived theme. I can’t get enough of that. They’re human. They’re relatable. They’re believable.

If a creator can resist following the money, and not simply pump out content that pleases one majority of their audience instead of speaking their truth, they’ll get my attention. But that’s not how to grow an audience usually, and the temptation to go after the big bucks is too great. I get it, if you’re going to put the effort into it, you want to make a decent living at it.

Its just not going to keep my attention. But then, I don’t assume I’m the target audience. Many people in this non-community seem to be happy to watch pretty nonsense instead of gritty truth.

Looks like there might have to be a part 3; we’ll see how long it takes me to finish THAT one, lol!

Fresh Eyes


Fuch’s Dystrophy is a condition where your cornea doesn’t release the liquid in your eye like it ought to. It makes for some gorgeous affects, and horrible driving. Especially at night. Everything has such beautiful auras. I’ve said it rather consistently now, its like living in Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night.

Fuch’s Dystrophy. I know, it’s a weird name, isn’t it? Everyone pronounces it FOOCHES, likely to avoid the obvious. My Dad has it, so I knew it was distinctly possible I’d end up with it as well. Knowing what the symptoms are, it didn’t surprise me at all when I realized I was experiencing them.

It seemed just a matter of time.

I didn’t expect to be sent for surgery immediately. I figured there would be some sort of “conservative treatment” as it seems that’s what every doctor does first. Likely, that’s because that’s the demand of the insurance companies, but don’t get me started on that.

Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night. See that aura on every star? Those swirls in the night? I did!

If you’re curious about it, Fuch’s Dystrophy at American Academy of Ophthalmology

When the yellow rotating light on top of a tow truck on the Interstate caused an affect something like a black hole, I knew I shouldn’t be driving at night anymore. The first time I saw the surgeon, she grounded me from driving altogether. That sucks.

Back in my Dad’s day, he had to have complete cornea implants. With stitches. He had to hang his head off the bed to sleep at night for three days or something like that. He popped the stitches on one eye and ended up having to live with that until he was up for a second set, about 20 years. Sounds like fun, right?

So I was nervous to say the least. Nervous but excited, and in a way, in an important way, lucky. See, my husband had a swollen blood vessel behind his left eye for which he gets injections. Then he ended up with shingles in his right eye for which he had drops; drops that caused a cataract for which he now needs surgery.

Lucky because although it was surgery and didn’t sound fun at all, it was “one and done.” No injections. A fair trade, I’d say.

The first surgery went along well enough except that the doctor failed to mention the aftercare instructions meant that for 24 hours I could only stand or sit for 15 minutes at a time, followed by an hour of laying flat with my head straight up and staring at the ceiling. Starting immediately. In order to get home then, we had a normally 45 minute drive which would have taken 3-4 hours, and then a postop first thing in the morning the next day. Um, no.

Without planning then, we found the closest hotel and I checked in. As I approached the counter, the desk clerk said the name of the clinic we’d been at. I guess the eye patch was a dead giveaway and we weren’t the first patients there. That was the case, as it turned out they had a patient discount.

This all seems like everything’s going along swell, right? Just wait for it…

They no longer perform a complete cornea implant for this Dystrophy. They graft. Sort of like patchwork. Its brilliant, because it means that a donated cornea can stretch so much further. The presurgical procedure for this involves a laser making a hole in the iris. My doctor told me it would feel like a rubberband snapped on my eyeball. She was right. That was exactly what it felt like. This creates a bubble in the eye that presses the graft into place and holds it there.

So far so good, right?

That night I was fine for a few hours but then I encountered horrible, terrible pain.

I had been told to call if there were any problems but does anyone ever really believe that? I didn’t. All I could take was Acetaminophen, and Acetaminophen PM, and boy howdie did I. Take the pill, go back to sleep. Fortunately the hotel had gigantic puffy pillows that made the perfect “V” shape to hold my head in place, so I was able to sleep.

I saw the doctor in the morning, and she knew what had happened almost immediately. I had somehow, by rubbing my eye or something, moved the bubble so that it was lodged behind my pupil.

That explained the pain.

She set me up for surgery immediately after her morning office hours. Their surgery center was in the same building, so all we had to do was move from one waiting room to another. Unfortunately, I had eaten that morning so all I couldn’t have had anesthesia. I didn’t care. It couldn’t hurt worse, and they promised me that I’d feel fine.

So I waited. By waiting, I mean I fell asleep. In one waiting room and in the other, leaning on my husband’s shoulder for the most part, and an obliging post for a bit. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I wasn’t even popping the Acetaminophen PM anymore. But hell, it passed the time.

12:30 and they called me in for surgery. It was the lunch hour, so the surgical area was weirdly quiet as the team working on me were the only people back there. I was all comfy on the surgical cart, as ready as could be. The doctor was dressed for surgery, pulled the eye open, and said, “its back in place.”

The same way I’d knocked it out of place, I apparently knocked it back into place. Now that I was awake for a few minutes, I did finally notice that there was a lot less pain.

The second eye was a lot less trouble. We knew the routine now. I had a reservation and packed a bag for the hotel. The hubs got me set up, then went home to be with the cats & my best friend stayed the night with me. Hubs wanted to make sure there was someone with me, just in case. So we extended the stay an extra night just so we could just hang out.

I thought, for sure, that my eyes were as fantastic as they could be when this was all done. The actual healing was almost immediate. Two days, tops, and my vision was up to pre-surgery condition, a week and I could see better. That was it, I was sure.

Until they tested my vision. I now have my very first pair of all-day glasses. Not just readers, mind you. Proper glasses. I apparently now have an astigmatism, which doesn’t surprise me either. I thought my vision was as good as it was going to get, until I picked these up.

So I’m back to work. I can read. I can bead. I can create. Its keeping me busy, but then it was keeping me busy before, but I’m having a lot more fun with it now that I can see.

The Long, Sad Tale of WOE


First, this isn’t sadfishing. Honest. Just a combination of venting, warning, and attempting to laugh at the ridiculousness of life as it is in this bizarre timeline we’ve found ourselves in. We’re okay. Shaken, sure, but essentially still in the good fight.  Why is it that it has taken me so freaking long to get…

Autism-Adjacent, Part Two: Hopefully a Conclusion


I have to begin this post with an apology. I haven’t been ignoring you all, It’s been a helluva roller coaster ride with health issues around here. Enough for a completely different post… So, now where did I leave off…? Oh, yeah. The BIG, BAD DIAGNOSIS! To be absolutely honest, I was aware of this…

Autism-Adjacent, part One


I believe I’ve made a few references to my mental health battles here. Maybe not much specifically, but little hints here and there. Some might have assumed these were jokes but I assure you, they’re not. 🙂 With that in mind, I figure I might want to actually explain what that journey has entailed. I…




Free to Worship or Not


My years in Christianity weren’t exactly a waste, for all that they were debilitating to my psyche, I did learn quite a bit. Some of that was definitely painful and hard to extract from my brain later in life, some of it was life-changing and highly influential on my future spiritual and magical life.

First and foremost, the Bible became one of my hyperfixations. Well before I knew what that was, I had begun reading books about “The Book.” You’ll hear zealous Christians constantly push reading the Bible, over and over again. Memorizing verses, reading obscure books out of it, and of course, believing the interpretation of whatever guru-type-pastor is in vogue today. If you’re the type that doesn’t passively read, if you’re the type of person who thinks and analyzes while reading as I am, this is a sure-fire way to read yourself back out of Christianity. Because that’s exactly what happened.

I’m not just fixated on Christianity, I’m fixated on religion, and on mythology as well. When I started analyzing the Flood, for example, and realized that comparative religion and mythology had many similar tales, the passive reader might expect that is because the story is true. An active reader? I realized that yes, there were many similar stories. And I realized several were older than the earliest written Judaic text mentioning the story. So logic would have the older story as the more likely original.

Ummmm…

If you’re wondering, this is still something I’m absolutely obsessed with, although I find it rotates regularly with other fixations now. As an adult, I don’t have quite as much time to devote to these studies of mine. I’ve added into the mix cults and what I’d call para-religions. I feel a kinship with people who have escaped cults, likely because of all they have in common with the Evangelical/Charismatic religion I’m a refugee of.

Oddly, as its something I had to wrestle with, I also felt the presence of a god for the first time.

You can imagine, I’m sure, this was a real bear to merge together. I threw out Christianity whole; baby and bathwater altogether. But at the same time, I had experiences that could not easily be dismissed.

In the tradition I was raised in, there were three positions taken by the acolytes. The crucifer who carried the cross, and then the others who each held a torch on either side of the cross and just behind for the procession and recession. What I began to understand quickly is that the person who is the crucifer is the focus of attention and energy from the congregation. And in ECUSA, as in other traditions, there’s a reverence that’s given as the procession passes. If you’re even remotely sensitive (at the time I was very closed off energetically, its really amazing anything got thru at all, that will tell you how much I’m talking about here), you can’t help but feel that energy. You’re a funnel, taking all that energy, and its going through you to its destination.

And yes, that destination is a Deity. Ironically, most Christians don’t have any idea of this at all.

I did, and I do. It gave me a great deal of difficulty as I threw the entire belief system out, and wrestled with all the condemnation that came with that belief system. I embraced several different versions of paganism one, after the other, and every single time had to wrestle with where “God” and “Christianity” fit into my life.

Santeria and Voodoo were the worst. Those born into those religions have no compunction at all about blending African spirits with the Christian God, Church, and all its trappings. They don’t even blink. It hurt me so horribly, I can’t even explain it. Its like trying to use an overnight bag when you’re going to be away from home for a month. It just didn’t fit.

Here, at this place in the story, is where my hyperfixation comes in handy.

There are a lot of gods actually written of in the Bible, most of which are buried under layers of culture and mythology. Two are closer to the surface than most; Elohim who is actually a pantheon of gods under a primary god named El (Get it??? Beth-El??? After you’ve seen it once, El is everywhere in the Bible…I love tying things together like that!), and of course Yahweh. Thing is, both these gods were Canaanite gods. Remember the Canaanites? The ones the Hebrews were instructed time and time again to steer clear of? Those same Canaanites is exactly where their primary god came from, a mix of El and Yahweh. Turns out the Hebrews very likely were Canaanites who split off and claimed this God as the god of their tribe.

El and Yahweh have little else in common, frankly. El is the wise, old, white-haired gentle father god, and Yahweh is the vindictive, cruel god of storms, lightning and punishment.

This is the moment I became an Omnist. I see it so clearly now that its ridiculous. There are indeed two different gods of the Bible, or at least there are two primary and active gods in our world today. There’s Yahweh, the god of Evangelicals and Conservatives who instructs hatred of the fellow man, cruelty, and war; and El, the god of peace, love, and understanding who we learn of through the Christ of the New Testament.

Now, saying that either of those gods are gods doesn’t mean that I am called to them, or have any need to worship them. I can recognize that they exist along side my own Spirits because two things (or more) can actually be true at the same time. I don’t need El or Yahweh, and they don’t need me. I belong elsewhere. That doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you that you don’t belong with one or both of them. That’s your business not mine, and I’d no sooner try to tell you who to worship than I would tell you who to have sex with or not, for that matter.

I am now free. Free to work with Spirits who are under the reign of Christ or El (I’ll keep away from Yahweh as much as I can, but thanks anyway) such as those Spirits of Voodoo or Ifa that I love, and not have to give up my pagan ways. I can follow new pagan and magical directions as my own Soul guides me because I do get instruction directly from my Spirits; and who am I to say that my Brigid is your Brigid? Perhaps she’s different, and then has different requests and needs?

That’s a whole other can of worms though. I’d best stop here or I’ll never stop tonight!

This blog post was written after I’d begun my evening “medication” (medical marijuana) please forgive any awkward phrasing or grammar, I will go back over it when I’m in a more sober state of mind. Expect editing!

The Beginning


As with most people in the US of A, I was raised in a Christian household. Not my choice.

Like so many of us in the US of A who were raised in a Christian household, it messed with my mind. More than I ever knew, honestly. At the age of 52 my primary care doctor diagnosed me with anxiety when I broke down in her office. Again. The very first time I’d seen her, three years or so prior, I’d burst into tears and had a heart rate high enough that they slapped an EKG onto me to check my heart.

That was fun.

I was surprised and relieved all at the same time. She gave me a prescription and recommended therapy. I am happy to say that all the above is covered by our health insurance, a privilege not everyone in the US of A has. I am taking FULL advantage of this as long as I possibly can. After a false start with a therapist who did not fit me at all, my second try was a winner and I’m now actually starting to put myself back together again. Its been a long, hard road. Turns out that aside from the generic, garden variety social anxiety and the super-special avoidant personality disorder that comes up now-and-then, I also am the proud owner of some lovely PTSD, straight from Christianity.

And most of the damage was self-inflicted.

My major anxiety is related to a need for approval, love, acceptance. The usual, I suppose. This includes a need for my father’s approval. My father’s father was a Baptist minister, his mom played the organ for their children’s ministry. He converted to ECUSA when he and my mother married. Sweet, I know, but he never did lose the fire-and-brimstone edge to him .Now, they’re both Catholic and things got weirder. But we’ll get there eventually.

As explained to me by my therapist, we humans start to develop our own moral system somewhere around the age of 12 or so. I smothered mine. I forced my square peg into the Christian round hole (why does that sound mildly dirty?) for years. Forcing myself to accept the good girl myth and all the restrictions that come with it. I did some serious damage to my own psyche as a result. Could I blame my parents? Sure, plenty of people do. The truth is, however, that I’m complicit in this, and I know it. I own it.

At the height of my involvement with the Church, I was an acolyte (“altar girl”), a member of Junior Daughters of the King, I assisted Sunday School teachers (until they figured out I was too young), attended youth group weekly, and Bible Discipleship once a week. Fairly often, my brothers and I would be called in to assist at the early services when other acolytes weren’t available. On the most involved week, I would be at the 7:30 am service as an acolyte, I would be working for Jr. Daughters to tend the altar between services and lay out vestments, then down into the nursery to attend to that for the 9:00 service, again, for junior daughters, then I would attend the 10:30 or 11:25 services simply because I hadn’t sat through services myself yet. After lunch, I’d be at the church plenty early for youth group, and then Wednesday nights I’d return for Bible Discipleship. And that doesn’t include classes for my Confirmation.

I was involved.

Not all of that experience was bad. There were some experiences that have stuck with me throughout the years. At the same time, the damage I did to myself, the emotional and psychological damage that was done to me by both other church attendees and my own father are things I now have to deal with. You just can’t keep up with those expectations and live under a constant fear of hell without some damage.

When I was seventeen, the dam finally broke and broke with style although I hid it well. I still hide it well. My parents, now in their 80s, have no real concept of how far from Christian theology I have strayed. Everyone else in the world knows, but not my parents. Not because I’m seeking their approval still but because I love them. My mother isn’t as strict of a Christian as my father is still, to this day, and we’re extremely close. I love them both. They are true believers, and have every right to their own beliefs. But I couldn’t live my life happily if I thought they were on their knees praying for my soul every day of their lives. I will save them the anxiety and worry that I carry, I want them to enjoy these last years on earth.

There will be time enough for them to find out when they’re no longer physical beings.

This was originally published on my soon-to-be deleted blog W.I.T. on March 26, 2023