I wish I could stop believing, I truly do.
Too much anecdotal proof and the patterns are undeniable.
I know I have a year of yuck before things get better.
I think I might have liked not knowing better.
I never really kept track of anything like I do now and have for 12 years.
I made a safety profile on Facebook and fucked myself.
I upset the balance of the universe and pissed of big brother Zuckerberg.
Instead of just accepting my jail time I tried to circumvent. But I wasn’t even IN jail and the restriction was lifting on its own.
I had no patience.
I literally caused my own demise by prepping for things that I didn’t want to happen.
The only thing that really worried me about getting fucked on Facebook was losing the accidental diary it has become. A year ago today I was sitting in the airport listening to Beethoven and finishing up editing my novella. I want to know these things.
11 years ago today I was in a horrific car accident. I would rather forget, but I can’t, I died that day and although it took a long time to be reborn, here I am.
I think we go through phases in life. I know I can look back on past versions of myself and that girl is dead. She ceased to exist. I kinda look like her, but I am not the same person.
And now, if Zuck has his way, all of those old me’s might disappear forever just because I made a back up version of myself.
I’m not ready.
But, it’s my own fault.
I didn’t mean to. I never do.
This whole ‘don’t monkey bar between things’ lesson was one I thought I learned long, long ago.
Once upon a time it was the fact that I needed a safety net to leap out of bad situations. It wasn’t enough to leave because I wanted to, I had to have a plan and somewhere to go, someone waiting for me instead of just being alone. Human cushions and parachutes. But those were childish things and I thought I had put them away.
The relationships I held onto while reaching for something new with the other hand in the time called before were no great loss. Two shitty common law husbands, a rapist, a drunk and a writer who couldn’t admit he was bisexual and got mad at me for it for some reason.
We do what we think is best until we learn better, then we do better. Or at least we should.
I thought I did, but here I sit, regressing and paying for it.
Not just regressing, stagnating too. I rode a horse 2 weeks ago for maybe a half an hour, pinched a nerve in my back and I can’t move much. I have a yoga mat still in the wrapper and my mantra has becomes as Jane’s ‘try again tomorrow’. But I have had 17 tomorrows minus the crippling period that didn’t back off for 5 days and was made worse by the horse and the pinched nerve that proceeded it.
This fucking sucks.
I really can’t wax more poetic than that.
5 days until I find out my fate with surgery.
Who knows how many months until I get said surgery and how long I will need to recover.
Thing is my brain still works but my body is unwilling. And then I get into guilt and shame spirals for letting the days pass me by and it’s a big bucket of yuck.
Add the pandemic fatigue.
I am happier when I have plans and goals and that is an impossibility.
My memories today had a drone video of a trailer park in the land down under with the caption ‘the long term goal’.
How could things fall apart this hard in a year?
A year ago today I was getting on a plane at 4am and instead of going straight home I crashed on my girl’s couch. The attic was just a bed and a desk back then. A weigh station, a Bedouin camp, easy to dismantle and move to the next oasis.
I had plans god dammit.
But we all did, I know I am not special.
Then Papa Mercury did his first backwards dance across the sky and the world fell the rest of the way apart.
It wasn’t doing so great prior to the first retrograde, leap year, black moon cosmic fuckery of last February. But it really really exploded hard that week, month, moon.
And I am actually scared now.
Full Wolf moon in 3 days, retrograde 2 days after that. At least almost every planet is in Aquarius, so it is dreamy surreal chaos as opposed to the undeniable, hard and sharp shit we navigated a year ago.
All Mercury retrogrades are in air signs this year. Akin to 2015, but I think I already talked about that. That was also the year I bought and then had to sell the trailer I had always wanted, during retrograde of course. I wasn’t listening, I had a huge blowout with Gelfling that we never recovered from.
And that is what I meant about not knowing. I am sure I could cosmically trace all of my trauma to astrological events. I learned about Saturn return while I was drowning in it. And now all I have to do is log onto Facebook for 30 seconds and I know what all the planets are doing.
Thing is, I know the rules.
But I am hand shy.
Retrogrades last year were really rough, and even the eclipses and portals that I usually enjoy were painful and sticky messes of miscommunication and angst.
I have seen where the planets will be for this year and logic (if you wanna call it that) dictates this year will be filled with hard work, but good work and not the Tower tarot energy of last year. But I think I am traumatized.
I want to make plans and announcements, and I will, but for now until mid-March I will be in duck and cover mode, quietly setting goals and working towards a better life.
It will get better, it always does, it has to.
And I do remember the fuckery of 2012 and 2015.
I survived then and all the shit that came before, even when I didn’t know what planets to blame for what used to be my crappy little life.
Everything is better than it used to be, even with this mess. I don’t drink anymore but I still know things.
Live through this, and you won’t look back _The Stars
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