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Persephone, Asha, Hecate

August 2015




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Oct. 26th, 2037

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

New user name, new self

Hello from the LiveJournal user formerly known as BrightRoseFox.
Due to a complex thingy involving problems with emails and such, I have changed my LiveJournal name, my Yahoo name, and my Facebook name.
Everything is now BrightLotusMoon.
If you know me well enough, you know why I am now BrightLotusMoon.
So, yeah. Just FYI.

Dear Lovelies:
Not only am I feeling so much better, I truly believe I am worth everything that people say I am. I have been getting messages, emails, phone calls, and comments from friends who have told me what I mean to them. I have been amazed and heartened and lifted and joyous.
I may be a moonlight witch, but I cannot access the magic of the moon without accessing the magic of the sun. And the moon is always there, her power extreme eternally. And the sun is always there, his power intense forever.
I feel bright and powerful and in full bloom, like a great lotus blossom beneath the full moon.

Jun. 8th, 2036

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

I'm not you. You're not me. But we're people. Yay us.

So. Multiple friends have suggested I write something like this, because no matter how often I say it, I still get invalidated, scolded, told I shouldn't be doing it because it upsets people. And of course, it would be talking about my life, my disabilities, my personal health, in public forums.

To paraprhase a friend: "...taking someone's lived experiences as they apply to their particular disability and how it expresses itself, and saying that they can't talk about that because it will make other people feel bad, is not okay and it invalidates them to varying degrees. Different disabilities affect different people in different ways."

In other words, sometimes comparing things is bad. We are human. Humans all have problems. Each human has their own set of problems. Some humans want to talk about their personal problems in ways that other humans find annoying, upsetting, unsettling - but other humans find those ways comforting, eye-opening, powerful.

I don't know how else to say it, so I'll be blunt, and this time I am not going to pull any punches:
Read more...Collapse )

Jun. 14th, 2035

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

My brain to your brain. To the universe.

...hush now; let me speak...
And sometimes there are days when all you can feel is that pain-filled urge to fly and fall, and all you can think is "If only I could make the world fly and fall with my brain; if only I could win my own game, always."
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Aug. 31st, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

What does anything matter


Actor Harry Dean Stanton's recent Facebook status is a masterpiece on death.

"I'm 87 years old...I only eat so I can smoke and stay alive.. The only fear I have is how long consciousness is gonna hang on after my body goes. I just hope there's nothing. Like there was before I was born. I'm not really into religion, they're all macrocosms of the ego. When man began to think he was a separate person with a separate soul, it created a violent situation.

The void, the concept of nothingness, is terrifying to most people on the planet. And I get anxiety attacks myself. I know the fear of that void. You have to learn to die before you die. You give up, surrender to the void, to nothingness.

Anybody else you've interviewed bring these things up? Hang on, I gotta take this call..... Hey, brother. That's great, man. Yeah, I'm being interviewed... We're talking about nothing. I've got him well-steeped in nothing right now. He's stopped asking questions."

Learning to die so I don't fear death is a life goal.

Last night in a dream, I died and found myself in an astral plane version of Tokyo and it was fifty years in the future. I was dead. I knew it. I was peaceful and content. I was part of a constant consistent stream of energy full of other dead people. I was a We. But I was able to have my own thoughts, like a wall. I could choose my appearance, my voice, my mind.
But here's the amusing bit: I still was braining with cerebral palsy and autism. It's my brain. The circuitry and energy and neurochemistry never changed after I died.
It was as though my brain's neurocircuitry survived my death, along with every neurotype, limitation, neurodeveopmentally disabled cluster.

I'm going to write a story. I'm going to hope it stays a short story.

Aug. 15th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Writing stuff

Except from Chapter One of "Glass Lotus"

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Jul. 29th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

They can't speak for us.

As always, one of my favorite bloggers speaks epic truth. http://whoneedsnormalcy.blogspot.com/2014/08/and-truth-shall-set-you-free-if-you.html?m=1

Jul. 26th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Rejecting "Autism Speaks"


Jul. 25th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Autistic Regression


On regression, inertia, and catatonic as related to autism.

Jul. 24th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

On meltdowns

I've been in Brooke's place. All I could say was "Hurting, talk later" before I curled up and shut everything out, which often precedes a shutdown sleep that can last up to four hours. After I woke, talking helped, and I in fact did not decide to blog about the whole thing because it really didn't feel right at all.
Tags: ,

Jul. 3rd, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Don't tell me who to love

Very important. Especially as I am so tired of defending and explaining strong online friendships


I communicate better via text and online. I prefer to not look anyone in the eyes during communication. I prefer pauses and spellcheck and sharing articles proving things. Sometimes I don't want to be touched.

One day I will meet my closest internet friends physically and I will hold them close. And when we go back home we will keep internetting.

The world is moving. Move with it or I will move without you.

Jul. 2nd, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

This is why I internet

Lovely quote about person-first language being used to police how disabled people feel about their own lived experiences. Also, it feels like I could have written it exactly but I didn't, and I'm glad when others have the same words.

"Person first language... I feel like it's distancing and separating. 'I want to see the person first.' But who I am is made up partly of my labels (Pansexual, disabled, neurodivergent, etc) and partly of my personality, values, etc but it's all intertwined. To say you want to see the person first is to say that you think my conditions make me less of a person. For many ablebodied, neurotypical people, disability is uncomfortable. Person First Language feels like a way to ignore it, silence it, other it. Instead I want you (general you) to accept it and not see it as bad. I live with these things everyday and they're entirely inseparable, and they affect my moods, thoughts, social interactions, apparent personality, etc... I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense."

It makes all the sense, person in comments section. All of the sense.

Jun. 24th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

...and I'm free, freefallin...

This is a thing I wrote as a response to a thing in an autism group about seeing services and aid through surreal perceptions. I have since amended some stuff. But this is the raw original. A blog asked for my permission to post it publicaly. Traffic!

Angie - I hope you get the whole essay
-Love, Joanna Capello 

When I was a child, having such mild cerebral palsy meant being "highly encouraged" to not palsy it up, to ignore the spastic, to "put your arm down, weight shift to your right leg aways, don't  toe walk, stop curling your left fingers, don't sit in the W position, straighten your left wrist."
"Conform. Be like everyone else. You can overcome these movement problems with therapy and practice and bracing wraps. If you don't exercise those muscles they will atrophy. Nobody needs to see you curling your wrist and arm. Wear these insoles, these special ones that hurt your feet. It will keep you from limping.

TLDR: Hide the visible cerebral palsy and you will have a good ideal independent life."

Like autism, I hid it and behaved. It hurt. My body-brain was desperate to do what it wanted to do naturally. A fateful event in autumn 2001 did indeed help my neuroplasticity a little. But until 2013, until I joined several support groups for cerebral palsy and disability and advocacy, I had no idea that I had the ability - the freedom - to just be CP.
This came on the heels of my autism diagnosis, thus my head was reeling from multiple realizations and understandings that were like sledgehammers being dropped not on to my head, but at my feet, to pick up and wield.

I allowed my spasticity to spaz when it wanted. I no longer covered it behind being tired... sure, the spasticity and ataxia got considerably worse with exhaustion... but sometimes it happened just for no reason. I had spent my life forcing my left side to be compliant and Normal* and I really was tired. It hurt to force it down.

In the Stephen King book Firestarter, Charlie McGee admits that it felt good to use her Pyrokinetic and telekinetic powers and that it actually hurt to stop. It hurt to hold them back. I know why. Autistic Burnout and inertia and catatonia, which also happen with cerebral palsy, will happen after too long a period of hiding, faking, play-acting. The brain finally snaps and cries out NO MORE.

Sometimes, friends who see me wonder if I am tired because I'm holding my left arm in pronation, my left wrist and fingers in flexion, my left foot in supination. And finally, I tell them that it is merely because I'm not concentrating on holding it back.

Of course I do physical therapy. From the outside, my combination of isometrics, qigong moves, slow holding stretches, deep breathing exercises, and basic physical therapy motions might look like yoga. As I have a stress response to people insisting that yoga would be wonderful for my chronic pain, I don't call my exercises yoga.
But yeah, sure, some of it is essentially modified yoga poses that are designed to be gentle and restorative without the pretentiousness sanctimonious attitudes and price of not only money but energy (fibromyalgia loves to devour energy).
I really love my exercise and while I don't really want to do it with anyone - maybe with husband or one other mild CP person - I want to be acknowledged for at least taking steps to care for myself.

I didn't start using adaptive devices, in my case a cane, until I was thirty years old. I had been told I didn't need one. But screw that.

Now, at age 36, I own several shiny canes of various sizes and shapes and colors. I have one with rubbery feet! A cane helps me balance both sides of my body, the hemiplegic left and the overcompensating right. It also acts as a status symbol for abled folks- see, I am crippled enough to park in this handicapped spot - and for the unspoken denied disabilities hierarchy, especially in cerebral palsy: I still have CP, not as bad as you, but I deserve a seat at the table. Having canes or crutches means that it is okay to accept help to make life easier.

My husband buys me alternate devices for kitchen and bathroom to adapt to my limits and needs. Latest example, a toilet plunger with its own plunger to lessen the exhausting force of plunging. Plus it includes a sink plunger head. He's bought me cripple friendly utensils, shower attachments, stepstools, kitty litter scoops, sex toys, coffee grinders.
Being disabled means needing adjustments made around my limitations, ever little bit at a time.

Self care really is a revolutionary act in this society.

(*Normal: I firmly believe there is a normal, a medical scientific Normal, and I am totally not it. I loathe the platitudes like "normal is a setting on a dishwasher" or "there is no normal, there never was" because it invalidates so much about myself that I might as well not exist.)
This next is a sort of amendment. Keep in mind that my memory is glitches.

I keep feeling the need to spin and spin.
During last week's phone talk with my mother, I learned things I never knew: Mom knew I was probably autistic but she never said anything because for the time in the mid 1980s to mid 1990s, I did not fit the stereotypes. But some of my activities did. Mom told me that she developed games and assistances to soothe the more extreme or exaggerated stims. I only recall the funny tics, liking my index finger and pressing it to my throat, kissing cold metal, little vocalizations that were passed off as Weird, stomping my feet for no reason... bouncing intensely while my mind created stories that I had to dance to, had to move to, I couldn't stop bouncing to music with my head stories, and my mom tried to have me bounce on my feet instead of a bed. I didn't recall these things until now.
Now I bounce on yoga balls.

Spinning helps the palsy spasms in my lower back but also spinning helps my other things and I honestly don't know why. Spinning helps epilepsy control, ADHD-Inattentive, vast neuroweird control. I'm not sure how why.
Autistic friends, can you help me know why?
(They did. And non-Autistic neurodivergent folk were there. Such community. Much solidarity. Very wow. Internet drum circle.)
I feel lucky and embraced and understood. I feel accepted. No one takes my lived experience and my thoughts and then devalues, dismisses, invalidates mansplains, derails. Group video chat may as well be a therapy circle.

Jun. 11th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Nope. Nope nope.

Quoting a friend:

Has anyone read Norman Doige's new book, "The Brain's Way of Healing"? Because it sounds potentially interesting, but I gotta say, stuff like

"We meet children on the autistic spectrum or with learning disorders or attention deficit disorder who have used neuroplastic techniques to achieve normal lives, and sufferers who have seen symptoms of multiple sclerosis, Parkinson’s disease, and cerebral palsy radically diminished."

makes me pretty leery.

The more i read and hear about it, the worse it sounds. Gaslighty, pathologising, fake-empowering "it's your own fault if you don't get well for not trying hard enough" bullshit.
Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Also nightmares!

Migraine all night! Possibly migraine all day! If the house phone rings once more I might cry!

Also fibromyalgia flare, but whatever. BRB, more Gatorade.

Callisto literally will not leave my side. She curls back up against my torso whenever I get back into bed. I love this cat.

Having chronic illnesses and disabilities gets expensive. Medication copays can get irritating. But that is what disability payments are for.

May. 21st, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Also nightmares!

Migraine all night! Possibly migraine all day! If the house phone rings once more I might cry!

Also fibromyalgia flare, but whatever. BRB, more Gatorade.

Callisto literally will not leave my side. She curls back up against my torso whenever I get back into bed. I love this cat.

Apr. 22nd, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

The Neutral Zone is comfy

What started out as a random Facebook comment on a friend's post became this.

My problem is this whole "positive energy good, negative energy bad" mindset. It feels too much like brainwashing. Hell, I got kicked out of a space for pointing out that mentally disabled people can't really just wake up and change like the meme said. I find negative energy useful. I'm an extreme preterm cripple with two dozen documented disabilities, struggling to bring down a monster organization that seeks to eradicate people like me.
I'm considered too mentally weak to harm anyone, thus I always have the upper hand when I bring out my stabby intellect which while scarred and marred by cognitive disorders can still bring down a conversation.

I am loathe to apply only positive energy TM as all it does is bandage my hurts until the next blow. Negative energy fills a void caused by inability to be part of the social wheels of a society that values sameness over my silence - how dare I not look them in the eye while preferring text over mouth speech. Negative power enables me to move and reach and yank down the veil, paying sharp attention to the man behind the curtain. They urge me to think only positive thoughts like it would be a healing thing. My mother just wants her baby healed. And I understand. But with disorder and chronic pain comes knowledge that positive energy cannot exist without negative energy taking its hand and whispering "watch out for those sharks and those lions, I think that person back there has a knife, should we run, we'll be safe in here." It whispers, "you are horrible at everything, what is the point of you, just let the lions eat you. But wait! Look! Look at the wonderful thing you just did. I made you stronger, didn't I? You defied me and you pushed and are stronger."
Positive energy would have been a shiny cheerleader oblivious to my barriers, insisting there was no walls or blocks, only beautiful success. And we need both.

I may only be talking about myself here. But living a full cripple life under both the medical and social models of disability makes me see the world as a huge plain of predator, prey, and balance. Some prey become heroes to fill a needed role and stand between worlds. Some prey become activists and sound alarms and shout down predators from behind shields they built. Some predators learn and go for other prey. Balance always means that someone else has to die for you to live. It means standing in the neutral zone watching and saying "if I don't survive, tell my wife hello." Sometimes it means having to step aside and apologize while encouraging your crippled kid to run without those leg braces. It hurts. Balance always hurts.

Oh wow. I'm sorry. I was reading a Seanan McGuire story about balance and life and I just went wandering. I'm sorry. Please tell me to shut up now.
Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Balancing self, half the seeds Part Two

I am super proud of myself for moving forwards on my private therapy routine. It is probably not going to show externally for at least a few more weeks. But I remember that secret promise to myself that I wrote on a hidden dark place. I think it will come true. I think soon my head will start filling in cracks that have been growing for a few years. I could call it healing. I am wary of - and also weary from - the word healing. People who really think some disabilities could be healed without needing to re-damage and reconnect the brain itself. I don't want to be some other person. They just want me to be like them.
It can't be healed. Only I can soothe its own pain and any pain it give, only from the inside. I don't want to look at the surgeon's tools.I find my own ways, so it will not be the healing you assume.

Apr. 19th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Balancing self, half the seeds.

My favorite author, Seanan McGuire, posted my favorite short story yet from her collection of the Velveteen stories. Go buy her books!

So, in thinking about one of my dearest matron goddesses, Persephone, I saw a bunch of stuff from my Facebook friends celebrating the true story of how she actually went with Hades willingly, in curiosity. And I am really thrilled. We need to spread the true story far.

Even my Facebook profile photo celebrates the love between the two. The photo is an altered version of my LiveJournal profile photo.

Tuatha Cait Sidhe Mix

Experimenting. Because color is art. Surrealist art fun yay. Psionic Feline Time Lady is made of faded existence, existentialist eclectic paganism, and stars. Always stars.

"In the best known version of the Greek myth, Persephone is dragged down into the underworld by Hades, whose title is 'Pluto.' But in earlier, pre-patriarchal tales, she descends there under her own power, actively seeking to graduate from her virginal naïveté by exploring the intriguing land of shadows. 'Pluto' is derived from the Greek word plutus, meaning 'wealth.' Psychologist James Hillman says this refers to the psyche-building riches available in Pluto's domain. Hades, he says, is the 'giver of nourishment to the soul.'" - Rob Brezsny

"I am channeling my matron goddess Persephone today. In the original myth, she chose to descend into the world of Hades in order to gain knowledge of the shadows. Hades had a power to nourish the soul, which patriarchal translations misinterpreted. There was no abduction. There was no assault. I always sensed something beyond the stories.
In my own Joanna way, I see Persephone as brightness and Hades as darkness. The lotus and the moon. Mage of light and mage of dark.
The story of Persephone and Hades is probably one of the most misunderstood, misrepresented, and mistaken relationships in mythology. I have never been so relieved to see my suspicions confirmed."

I am still obsessed over the original myth of Persephone and Hades - how she so willingly and deliberately descended into the shadows, how Hades in fact was nourishment for souls. I grew up knowing that Persephone was one of my goddesses but I didn't like the patriarchal story. How wonderful and relieving to know that there never was a kidnapping. The more I meditate on my connection with their relationship, the more I feel powerful, relieved, relaxed, and free. I may one day figure out enough lucid dreaming to really communicate with the part of the gods that resides in my Higher Brain and Subconscious mix. You know, the Quantum Psychic Consciousness.
Oh. I'm professoring again. Cough.
In conclusion, polytheism is awesome and if you can connect to the deities that call you, it can be enlightening.


Turquoise tint
Blue wash tint.

I am still the Snow White Fae Warrior with Unicorn's Spiritual Healing, and Dragon's Supreme Vitality, and Tiger's Sensuality, and Tortoise's Content Wisdom, and Wolf's Instinct and Freedom, and Raven's Magic Mystique, and Fox's Perceptiveness, and Butterfly's Transformations, and Bear's Strength, and Phoenix's Eternal Renewal.

I rarely feel any of this. This is why I write and create characters who embody those totems. I am shy, introverted, withdrawn, afraid, nervous, anxious, awkward, inept, stumbling, weak, quiet to a fault, full of so much love that I never know what to do.

My spiritual parts are made of Magic and Quantum Theory and Multiversal Synchronicity and Polytheistic Agnosticism and Subconscious Psychic Higher Brain Functionality. And disability. And understanding the unique intricacies of whole brain disabilities that are my person.

I will never know who I am. I will always love finding out over and over.

Persephone. Proserpine. Hecate. Hekate. Goddess. Mentor. Teacher. Master.
Seasons. Equinoxes. Sabbats. Wheels.Veils. Minds. Gateways. Crossroads. Magic. Quantum. Cosmos.
Indigo. Red. Gold. Silver. Amber. Copper. Crystal.
White. Black. Nothing. Everything. Order. Chaos.
Nature. Flowers. Fruits. Plants. Seeds. Water. Rivers.
Dark. Light. Sky. Earth. Day. Night. Life. Growth.
Otherworld. Afterworld. Spirituality. Science. Electromagnetism. Psychic Energy. Elements.
Love. Beauty. Knowledge. Understanding. Acceptance.
Companion. Queen. Lady. Lover. Partner. Power.
Interpretation. Choice. Freedom. Questions. Answers. Studies. Always.
Magic. Supernatural. Paranormal. Parasychology. Psychology. Biology. Neurology. Neuroscience. Neurodivergence. Physiology. Physics. Experiments.
Art. Craft. Need. Desire. Reseach. Belief. Faith. Truth. Fact. Fiction. Mentality. Hemispheres. Universes.
The colors of magic. The art of magic. The science of magic. The study of everything. Synesthesia. The scents of magic. The transdimensional pathways.
Above. Below. Beyond. Between. Parallel. Fringe. Outside. Within. Synchronicity. Serendipity. Collective.
Humanity. Soul. Consciousness. Exploration. Subjectiveness. Objectiveness. Beholder. Eyes. Dreams. To meet. To feel. To know. To be.
You are you. Let go.
Be you.

(Photo taken via Samsung Galaxy S4. Color, Brightness, Portrait effects edited by Samsung Galaxy S4 Photo Editing.)

I have become comfortably peaceful. Comfortably tranquil. Comfortably serene. Meditation and zen stretching, aka my own personal modified version of what people think of as yoga, is a daily routine, and while it doesn't always give me what I want, it gives me what I need.

I've gone through so many small, intense changes in a short amount of time that on the outside it almost looks like nothing. It is massive, really. I take pride in all my neurodivergent disability even as misguided and misinformed but well-meaning people throw so-called curing treaments at me like candy. It's all right. I know who I am. I know what I need. I know what I want.

I'm still the unicorn, the dragon, the phoenix, the tortoise. I will remain magical, intense, everlasting, steadfast.

I will always struggle will low self-esteem, poor confidence, extreme fear, wild anxiety, major depression, social phobia, shyness, extreme introversion, inability to express my best thoughts properly. It does define me, no matter what anyone says.

Like the Four Magical Creatures, I will rise and heal every time I am struck down. I have long abandoned The Spoon Theory in favor of The Spear Theory, invented during a discussion with a friend. I will never run out of spear stockpiles, just as I will never run out of pain monsters to fight.

I refuse to say that I just need Positive Thinking to help myself heal. My own kind of negative thinking is not harmful. It's like the other side of a photograph. It shows flaws and spots I need to work with. Even the immortal Fae, the eternal gods, the most powerful of mythologies, and the ancient cosmic forces are deeply flawed and must face negativity with positivity as a yin yang balance.

Not even hyperbole, but ever since I was a child, psychically sensitive people have dubbed me "Little Fae" and "Shiny Child" and "Natural Quantum Healer" (it took me a couple of decades to figure out that one). Even now in my third decade, I'm not certain what it means, but I enjoy figuring it out.

I mention that most self photos I take tend to give me a fascinating Fae-like glow, an inner radiance extending outward. A friend replied: "Your body keeps trying to kick-start its regeneration, like the Timey-Wimey Time Lady you are!"
Yay, geeks!

In various incarnations, she is Ruby Moon Fae, Snow White Rose, Snow Ruby White, The Rose Lotus Elf Warrior, The Bright Lotus Faery, The Lotus Moonlight Witch, The Bright Rose Lotus Faery.

What happens when a witch becomes zen.
Fire, water, air, earth, spirit, energy, love. Light and dark, gentle and rough, soft and hard, strong and weak.
Power is everywhere.
The world of the Fae is a world in which I tread lightly. There are sentient entities older than time, and awareness is everything.

Dragon hearts are as dragon hearts do.
There is a phoenix in there. I have a phoenix in my soul. I always have. The phoenix and the dragon get along beautifully. They are both me, after all. I rise up after every battle and I keep going because that is how it is.

Ruby Snow Red White, the cloned daughter of ancient Snow White and ancient Red Riding Hood, including the huntsmen and the wolves.
A dragon princess warrior librarian empathic clairvoyant with many masks, a preference for shiny gems, the power to speak to feral books and to speak the language of every Story, and a transdimensional travel enthusiast. Born outside of time, on the edges of snowfall and sunshine, between the seasonal chimes of winter and spring, gifted and cursed with several disabling injuries to mind and body that serve as power sources. A fierce amalgam cousin to both the unicorn and the white tiger, a peaceful dragon child who breathes Story Fire, who gained wisdom from the eternal tortoise and the secrets of life from the everlasting phoenix. She prefers solitude and stories repeated, and because she pulls her permanent wounds around her as shields, must be approached with soft, sweet, gentle love. Prepare to be enlightened, filled with the fires of Knowledge and Story and Fact and Fiction. Avoid deliberately provoking the dragon warrior phoenix princess librarian with certain offensives. Her claws are always polished and she is proficient with spears and daggers. She may need eyeglasses to see, but she sees worlds beyond worlds in many ways.

I am a dreamer, a starry-eyed storyteller, a mage barely in touch with reality, a keeper of ancient living books and powerful secrets, a born writer, a born library keeper destined to protect the magical sections and help customers understand the most intense occult tomes.

My lips are blood, rose, and berry red, my skin is ivory. cream, and silk, my hair is mocha, bronze, and chestnut earth.

I change and evolve quietly, subtly, in ways very few people see. The flaws and scars I see in myself must be concealed to appease my mental disorders, but I can work with them. My swords and spears are tipped with diamond and contain copper and amber and tourmaline, because I imagine them that way. I never believed I was a warrior, until my loved ones needed me to be one.

I believe in gemstones. I believe in lepidolite, charoite, fluorite, kyanite, labradorite, tourmaline, amber, sodalite, seraphinite, amazonite, clear quartz, diamond, copper.

I have been called a Mediterranean Eastern European Dragon Princess Fae Soldier. I have been called A Bright One, a Beacon, a Soul Healer, someone who creates universes in my mind, someone who can ease stress simply by physical proximity. I still do not know exactly who I am. But I am proud to be all those things.

The All Natural Face Cream Foundation in Porcelain Kissed By Honey; Urban Decay Naked Skin Foundation in Shade 2.0.
It Cosmetics Vitality Butter Lip Gloss in Ruby Slippers; It Cosmetics Vitality Flush Lipstick in Pretty Woman; Urban Decay Revolution Lipstick in F-Bomb.
Urban Decay Eyeshadow in YDK; Maui Wowie
It Cosmetics Hello Lashes Mascara, also applied as smudged eyeliner.

Mar. 29th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Intersectionality and invisible cripple culture

In my cerebral palsy support group on Facebook, someone asked if we have ever faced intersectional discrimination from other disabled people.
This was my response.

Yes. "You don't look disabled enough. Are you sure you even have cerebral palsy?"

After I explain that I have two dozen visible and invisible disabilities covering every system, the other disabled people grow silent and still and appear embarrassed. Then one of them says the inevitable "But you just don't look so disabled! How do you deal with it all? I would be curled up in bed sobbing." My response is always Zen Vulcan. It's just how it is. I was born like this so it is everything I know and relate to. I view my disabilities as part of my defined identity. And then there's the argument about how you are not your disabilities blah blah.
I live my life as an autistic pagan pantheistic polytheistic pansexual non-practicing Jewish woman with heritages via Sicily, Greece, Russia, Mongolia, Romania, Moldovia, with multiple disabilities both visible and invisible that allow me to walk freely with and without a cane depending on my bodybrain balance and pain and fatigue levels. I am a writer of suburban paranormal futuristic fantasy stories featuring disabled characters. These are what define most of me. My defined identity tends to rotate so I dont pin anything down.
But to have other disabled folk deliberately deny or ignore or make accusations is a punch to the gut. I spent my childhood passing for able by not showing my palsy because the therapist said it would hurt me. Now as an adult, I don't care and will palsy night and day because it feels comfortable. And I have noticed that the more visual I am, the more polite people are in their disability assumptions.

Mar. 19th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

I just want new socks.

I feel too disconnected. Too much dissociation. Definitely not enough emotion. This bizarre illogical crying phenomenon... I dislike it intensely. It should not be happening. I must have control over my physiological functions during reactions to situations that would see crying, a symptom of emotion, as inappropriate and highly irrational. One cannot manage a dialogue, never mind a rational conversation, while attempting to conceal the physical manifestations of crying, including tears and mucus and a cracking voice. Illogical, as it doesn't propel the dialogue successfully and only leads to frustration and to pauses in the conversation.

My only explanation is my severe postictal post seizure state and momentary transient global amnesia. My amygdala may be overwhelmingly over processed. I have been meditating and lightly exercising all day. Since the sun has been shining and the temperature has been cool but comfortable, I have taken brisk walks that have appeared to release a bit of tension from both my body and my mind. I have done my best to move through the thick brain fog triggered by this current fibromyalgia flare.

Currently I have no desire to speak to anyone except family via telephone or physically at length, unless it is urgent, at which point I will switch over to Cheerful Me. Most of my communication comes in the form of internet writing and occasional video chat, which especially allows me to break when needed, which my chat companions understand completely.

As I have grown older, I finally learned to embrace the subtle traits of obvious autism, to finally stop pretending since childhood that I was so dutiful and easy going and always ready for a wide smile. I did it all to protect my sensory experience. I looked directly at people because I was mimicking, because I knew it was what they wanted. I didn't like it but I had no idea why; I only knew that intense melting shutdown sensory overload could not be shown lest I be frowned upon. I didn't want the grown-ups to dislike me. I had to act normal! I had to act people!

I was thirty-three years old before I got it. Looking back on my childhood and what I can even remember, I see that inner frustration. Something was not right. I was acting. I was several Joannas because the autistic Joanna was afraid to be. Realizing that was so liberating and freeing and relieving that I became her, and left the childhood me behind. I changed. It was like a very colorful alternating butterfly. I let myself be the me I hid even from myself. And I adore myself as this experience.

And even now, I am told that by having these discoveries I have both deliberately and unwittingly medicalized my life. That I am only about my disabilities, particularly autism, without focus on other parts of my life. Which is so very unbelievably untrue, false, slightly insulting. However, it can be easy to see such points of view when reading my blog entries. I tend to explore new things intensely for years at a time. Sometimes it really can take four or five years before I switch around. I know it seems farfetched and ridiculous and filled with excuses to be excuses. To become excuses.

They call it Autistic Burnout, living a life trying to play the social norm while pushing down autistic traits and denying and ignoring autistic impulses. When your entire brain is begging to act one way and the world needs you to be a different way, it leads to burning out. I have nearly given up trying to explain what it is like to spend over thirty years not knowing how or why the psychological exhaustion happens just from being and doing whatever people ask. As a child I was told I couldn't just read the books in a person's home, that I had to talk, that I couldn't lie down and sleep on their couch because I needed to socialize. I should make friends outside my mind. I should talk about what I felt inside with words. The idea of making friends my own age caused cold sweats. I bonded with adults because most of them didn't care about my oddities. With some I even let the hidden me slip out just a bit. They had no idea it was autism. They chalked it up to brain damage and cerebral palsy. I recall someone once making awful remarks about autistics and institutions. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, especially in tiny towns, autism was a dark fear, literally a silent thief. I didn't know the word. I didn't know it was me. I was just Weird.

Now that I understand why, I am getting pushback and resistance and denial. I never acted like this before. My response is because I never knew what it meant and thus made myself play the part of the normal-ish girl. I completely hid all the autism because I was already a Changeling. Now, with friends, with solidarity, with empathy from dozens of neurodivergent folk in multiple groups, I feel belonged. I can let out the autism to play, to talk and ramble, to simply BE. Existence.

The sad part is that many neurotypical people still want to push it all away separate from us, because when they meet late adult-diagnosed autistics, there is an incredible hard disbelief that we are not just inventing these "new" selves just because of autistics on the Internet, because of trends and conditioning and being convinced and following leaders and being susceptible. "Are you so sure," they say with odd authority, "that you're not just making it worse by thinking about it? You didn't even talk about it until you were diagnosed and you met all these people online. Are you sure your so called friends aren't leading you on?" Which, truly, could be said of any medical condition unless it is extremely obvious.
They sometimes call it Med School Student Syndrome. I call it Finally Coming Home After Years Of Hiding.
I do indeed have OCD and ADHD Primarily Inattentive. That is absolutely not a reason why I have made autism a thing for me. The reasons are many, some private and emotional, and include thirty years of pretend play-acting. And to actually realize those implications at the age of thirty-five is like a stolen breath during a fall, and realizing there are wings never used until that moment.
Being doubted just because I belong to communities of similar folk feels very bizarre and filled with heavy derealization, which has become my default fallback protective method when challenged. It is why I rarely discuss autism outside specific social media forums. Autism really is a strange alien thing to neurotypical people. No wonder it isn't understood well. It's too huge from the outside. But it's so cozy and comfy from the inside.

I almost had a point. I think it was socks. I still want New Socks. They are the most comfortable feeling. Like kittens surrounding my feet. It's okay. The drawer full of old socks can waot a whole month. I am learning to control most symptoms of my OCD this way. Just wait. Just. Wait. They will be there in stores next month. And even if they are not, even if they vanish, different socks with the sorame kitteny sensation will be around and they will be just as wonderful.
Just wait. New socks will come later. Just wait.
That is my point. If I can wait this long to find the rest of me, I have plenty of time to wait for small things.

Mar. 18th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

...sometimes I just don't want to be human

Of course, on of my favorite shows is "Steven Universe" on Cartoon Network, which offers some fascinating and mind-blowing insights into what it means to human, fae/alien, and genderfluid

Rose Quartz is shown at 1:40. And I have decided that if I ever meet a woman or female-presenting femme non-binary person who looks like Rose Quartz, I will want to ask them to be my sort-of poly partner, because AAAANGHUF I want to hug that body forreverr. Also? Garnet. Garnet. GARNET.
My hair is two inches shorter just to get rid of the damaged ends. I hate it. There is REASONS I need my hair longer than my nipple when the hair is in its natural wavy state. However, looking at Rose's unbelievable curls and coils and springs... like, WOW.

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Socks. they are the greatest.

You guuuys, I judt got a postictal anxiety attack over not having enough socks in my sock drawer. Amygdala is the weird.

Oh, right. I need to record my seizutr from yesterday, duh.

Content note: bizarre.

Oh, brainbody, do not do the things. I'm not prepared.

No epileptic is prepared enough I guess.

I will do my best to recall the magic bits in the Faerie Tunnels so I can write when I come back.

People will still be here. Fellow Aut-Fae will probably want to know.

I feel cold-sweaty, vertigo, spasticity, tinnitus, skin tingling, the smell of bourbon vanilla, rich chocolate, patchouli, sandalwood, vetiver, labdanum, amber, neroli, rose, Dragon's Blood resin... a smell of Magic, my pull, my call.

Oh. Alicia is here in the front of my head. I can't stop it but Alicia will lead me across the screaming neuron fires.
I have to go. I'll be back. It won't be long but I will need to wait until I can articulate expressions after the slurring.
I came out of the seizure screaming in a keening wail that made all three cats rush into the room. I have no idea why. I've been panicked and worried for almost two hours. Over nothing. Or Nothing. Like in The Neverending Story. Ananta is doing everything she can to shield my neurology. Alicia is weakened and Serena is healing her. I don't know what's happening. I don't know why I am crying. I'm not sad. I don't know what this emotion is, if it even is emotion. My human shaped fictional coping mechanisms are scattered and uncertain and not even Amber can keep order. Asha wants to take over next to me, that's how bad it is. None of my mental guardians offer to come all the way forward unless it is really awful. But Asha is very different anyway.

Epilepsy plus fibromyalgia plus cerebral palsy plus sensory processing disorder plus severe anxiety plus C-PTSD plus anorexia and body dysmorphia is as a mix really really strange. Especially when fae autism traits are involved. I can't look in the mirror because my eyes will appear too destructive, like a storm of maliciously twisted darker magic trapped in a nightmare. I need to grow my light. I'm so so tired.

I will be fine. I will happen more. I will be so okay that the less okay will turn into more okay sooner than later. I am getting better at dissociating just enough to make my self be as most okay as can be for the moment. I will shut down and cry without sadness and that might help.

I love you, neurodivergent fae friends, for getting it. Please help me if you can. Talk to me with stories. Leave me trinkets.
I think tomorrow will be okay. I mean more okay. I will be postictal for a while, but I'm used to doing life things while woozy and full of after seizure upset. I think I understand why friends say I am strong.
Moringa powder in water: check. Backup seizure and anxiety drugs and vitamins: check. Face washed and moisturized: check. Alarm set with Sweet Lullaby by Deep Forest: check. Isochronic noises via Relax Sounds app to help sleep: check.
Cats randomly patrolling the hallways and under the bed: Check.
Go sleepy go night night go zzzz... (as husband and I chant in sing song voices often)

It's more okay.
Fuck you, epilepsy and anxiety disorder and sensory processing disorder via autistic comorbids. Everything I happen makes me want to scream, crouch in defense, sob like a lost leopard kitten barely old enough.

Filling out the pre-appointment for for the tubal consulting. Calling various doctors and institutions to cancel and set up more appointments. Trying to ignore angry scary messages telling me I've changed and now am too assertive and snappish. Trying to not scream when someone flings platitudes at me like 'Don't Let The Haters Get You Down and Just Ignore Them Because You Are Beautiful...' because I want to hurl platitudes into the sun.

I almost enjoy being so emotionally half dead during post seizure days. I feel nothing when some misogynistic Trilby collector wants to rape me because of his cerebral palsy fetish. BLOCK. I also wish to drop cinderBlocks on them.

I cannot think in words well. Serena and Ananta are helping my neurology and my anxiety. Asha is directing my communication. She really is less of a guard ians and more of a different psychic aspect of the self.
Temporal Lobe Epilepsy that manifests as traveling through mirrors and warrens into mathematically nonsensical worlds in which I help reign and be their version of Tuatha. It is a severe medical condition that rips open my imagination and forces me to bleed my own fantastic life so it can live.
I am tired, fatigued, exhausted, full of hungry mist and fog. I am lying down. I am craving sweet fatty foods, coffee with chocolate, crunchy raw vegetables and fruit. Luckily all those food are in the kitchen.

(No makeup at all, save for clear lipgloss. A smidge of color brightening and exposure adjustment. The current skin care regime has me almost convinced I can show my face without a simple layer of concealer or foundation. It doesn't really matter, since all my makeup is skin care. Feels awesome! IT Cosmetics is fairly life changing as far as blending color.)

Mar. 13th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Celebrating Bodies

Photos of nude women being people.
In fact, I could see many of these being models for my mother's art classes.

Mar. 5th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate


Adam and I went to the local America's Best Eyewear places so Adam could get new not-scratched glasses. And while he was getting his eye exam, I asked about one for myself. See, that place always has a "sale" that does two frames, any frames, for $70 that comes with  free eye exam. Of course, the lenses are not included, and depending on your prescription and if you want Transitions, it can run up to $250. And if you only do the eye exam, it's $70. So while chatting with the receptionists, I filled out a form and scheduled an appointment for the 13th, right after I get my disability payment. I could probably put this into my medical expenses for next year.
When I consider the overall deal compared to getting glasses from Zenni Optical website, it basically comes out the same. One pair of online glasses, frame plus prescription lens plus tints, costs me almost $60.

I could just get the $70 eye exam during my appointment and then go online for two pairs of glasses for around less than $120. Going to the store and getting the exam, two frames, and lenses, would cost somewhere around $270 due to my insanely high prescription,. I've already seen two frames I adore, though.

I've got some time to think.

Mar. 1st, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Disability Day of Mourning

So, today is Day Of Mourning for disabled people murdered by caregivers and parents. And I found this, and oh gods.
That is too many like me dead.

Feb. 27th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Farewell Mr Spock

Leonard Nimoy is dead. I am crying. His final tweet broke my heart. My meditative secret place is a magic garden.

An article explains how the fervor and insanity over the "ugly Tumblr dress" can compare to sensory processing difficulty in autism. And every autistic goes "NO SHIT."

And a very powerful article about the dangers of Autism Speaks makes me cry again.

Feb. 23rd, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Why people are fascinating

LOL, when trolling works well for a good cause, it is fabulous.
So, recently, someone I've known online for years pissed me off- and I held my tongue for personal reasons- by writing something along the lines of "I don't think you're autistic. You didn't used to act like it and you still don't. Weren't you just always high functioning and now less so?" And I found a really good quote that could've been a cool comeback. Thanks, Buzzfeed comment section!

"Functioning labels are a social construct, they are also offensive - and by offensive we mean oppressive and prejudice - we're all Autistic, it's a spectrum condition so it effects us differently and to different severity which can change throughout our lives. You're making assumptions about someones functioning based on personal judgement, and dismissing the voice of Autistic people based on your prejudice."

What matters is how it actually truly does change over time. It was suspected within me when I was a child in the 1980s, but I spoke fluently and powerfully and I was a very sociable huggy feely girl, thus barely fitting the stereotype of that time, ditto in the 1990s and the 2000s. As an adult, my brain kept changing and altering, and my autistic tendencies were spotted prominently by people who knew, who understood, autistic people and doctors trained well. I was able to stop calling myself abnormally weird. I was able to realize that having a name for a thing - and a community, full of new friends - was one of the best medically important moments since I was able to give a name to epilepsy and then fibromyalgia, names of things that got powerful and honest attention.

Over the years as autism and autistics became more studied, details changed. Which is what I think bothered people like the person who wrote me. "How can it still be autism they keep changing it over the years?" people ask. "If it changes, what's the point of a spectrum?" they ask. I dunno. I might ask that of anything in life, really. Everything tends to flow in severity and function over time, whether it is few years or a few days. I didn't just pop up autistic, regardless of what anti-vaxxers insist. Autistic folk everywhere who never realized they were #ActuallyAutistic are just figuring themselves out, and I think my online friend and many others have been genuinely startled by the idea that even the details of diagnosis and spectrum itself are changing. What do my Actually Autistic friends say?

Feb. 18th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Mozzarella : it's what's for everything

I have been snacking on whole fresh mozzarella cheese, salami slices, and roasted almonds, along with apple slice smeared with cashew butter. Good stuff. When Adam comes home from work, we'll eat the eggplant parmigiano that has been soaking for two days.

In the medical science community, there is a slow push to make chronic fatigue syndrome an actual disease as well as fibromyalgia. This may at least help them take us more seriously.
All I know is that Cymbalta is doing lovely things, surprisingly. After adding Rhodiola Rosea and Garcinia Cambogia, which gently boost dopamine and serotonin, I feel better. Still in a depression episode, still having anxiety blackouts and transient global amnesiac episodes. Buuut it's better. It doesn't seem any bettet since it all began in 2011. But I can feel things happening. It's all qualia anyway. All subjective.  I can never tell anyone to be me anyway.

Feb. 12th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

I have so many names. We all do.

Quotes to repost to blog:

From an article an its comments on the importance and power of labels:
"Also, in addition to being a really fecking stupid idea, trying to discourage the use of labels is an utterly futile one. Referring to definable concepts using words is human nature. Centuries of biological and cultural evolution has created a species that NAMES things. It is among our most fundamental psychological drives. We are the species of science and of literature; of identification and expression. We are Pan narrans, the Storytelling Chimpanzee. Verbal communication is OURS, as a field, like hardiness belongs to the cockroaches and swimming belongs to the fish. Our species is too intimately tied to the concept to back out now. When one encounters a concept that has no name, it is hard-to-impossible for a human being to avoid naming it, if only in the privacy of their own head. Labels are not only part of how we communicate, they are part of how we think. I see a chair, my brain says “chair”. I see that someone is upset, my brain says “upset”. It is difficult to efficiently think about something that does not have a name, and even more difficult to do so without resorting to making one up. Have you ever actually sat down and tried to find and list lexical gaps in your own language? It is nigh-impossible to do so without noticing two things: firstly, that there is very little that we don’t yet have a word for, and secondly, that our instinctive reaction upon identifying such a lacuna is to think “This thing totally SHOULD have a name.” So it has been since not long after we first developed what would later be labelled “sapience”. To oppose the use of verbal labels is to declare oneself to be a glitch in human development; an evolutionary throwback to those wordless days when Homo sapiens wasn’t yet capable of living up to its own name.
Basically, if you actually used words, made out of letters, to type a statement of opposition towards the concept of labels, then your argument is invalid and you have already lost."

"I care because of all the time I spent lost in the wilderness, thinking something was missing. I care because of all the time I spent looking at other people and seeing that I was fundamentally different than them, thinking something must be broken inside me. I care because of all the time I spent not knowing where I fit in the world, thinking that I must not fit anywhere.
I care because I don’t want anyone else to go through what I went through.
I have a place now. I have a name for me.
I’m not broken anymore.
I can’t make you understand what it’s like to go through that, but I can tell you that it brings tears to my eyes when I think about how many questioning people in the asexual tag I’ve helped to realize that yes, actually, they are asexual, and no, that’s not a bad thing, and yes, that’s a real orientation and yes, it’s okay to describe yourself that way. People are confused and hurting, and they need to hear that their experiences are legitimate. If a simple label can help, then so be it."

"If you have a problem with people affixing words to themselves as a means of reassurance and consolation, then you can shove it. Your opinion is irrelevant. Every other set of people who uses some label — don’t need to justify their choices to you. They owe you no explanation. And yet the internet is littered with explanations if you know how to find them, because people like you are so numerous that they’re compelled to write everything from snippets to essays to articulate what you failed to figure out on your own."

"Why is it even necessary for them to explain to you, hm? Why do you need to hear it in the first place? Why do you want to stop us from making ourselves feel a little better after being ground under the heel of normativity? Here’s an idea: instead of asking why they think it’s “necessary” to label themselves, ask yourself why you object to it. And for Pete’s sake, don’t give me that “limiting yourself” crap."

"Ah, man, so many people have so many issues with labels and it doesn’t make sense that they do. Most of the time, I feel that people have angst with labels because they don’t want to admit that the shoe fits, like people who dislike the word “bisexual” but prefer to be “heteroflexible” which is just another label to describe being bisexual but with some sort of difference (which is really no difference)."

"I ‘preach’ to people that without labels, we would be unable to identify the world around us – and it’s necessary and vital to our existence that we do this – we can’t function without labels and, as such, all we need to do is know what they are, how they’re applied, stuff like that, and just get on with our lives. But, we also know that words have power and that some words can be used as weapons and to attack each other at the most personal of levels… and all because of the ages-old mentality of “if you’re not with us, you’re against us” and that habit we have of wanting to destroy that which is not like us."

"Labels don’t upset me because they can only have that kind of power if I allow it – I choose not to allow it and I can’t really understand why other people choose to give them this kind of negative power."

Feb. 8th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate


And yet and yet, people still say things like
"How can you be in a depression episode again? Isn't your medication and therapy supposed to be working?"
"So, what caused it? Did you get upset at a news story?"
"Are you sure it's depression? Maybe you're just sad."
"What did you do this time to cause it?"
"I thought that new medicine was supposed to make it all go away."
"You know, lots of people get depressed. I hear exercise and sunlight work best."
"Hey, you're laughing! I guess you feel fine now. You should laugh more to cure yourself."
And yet and yet, I still want to smack those people when they continue to just not get it.

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