Calling all angels…

It’s been a rough few days over here. I’ve come to this space that I created more times than I can count to write…something. To try to process and put into words and, therefore, hopefully make some kind of sense, out of everything. Virtually each time I’ve come, I end up staring at my dashboard display. Usually for several minutes at least. I take a breath in the way people do before they’re about to start talking, but then, nothing. A few times I’ve started writing (and have even gone so far as to save my drafts) but then I reach a point where it just doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not saying what I want to say how I want to say it or I’m missing pieces of it that would make it make sense (some times even to myself and other times to someone who isn’t me) or it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Eventually I close the tab with a sigh. Thus the conundrum of trying to write from where I am. So much of the time, there are just no words.

I got a job waitressing last week and today was my third day training. I’ve always been able to fall back on this line of work, more than likely thanks to my father who’s an Executive Chef.  He was teaching me about and persuading (most often when I was younger attempting to persuade) me to try things like roasted quail served in a carmelized shallot reduction sauce and French red wines from the Cotes du Rhone valley as young as 7 yrs old (not the wine, though – that didn’t come till I was around 12 probably).  Of course my child taste buds refuted all of the above in favor of Velveeta shells and cheese with frozen green beans and breakfast sausage links. Alas, I digress.  My getting a waitressing job is a positive occasion for several reasons: 1) I’m a good waitress and right now when I am feeling low and powerless in regards to my life situation, it’s comforting to have at least one area where I know I can excel, 2) Well-organized restaurants (this one seems to score pretty high in that department) translate into concrete and predictable tasks which, again at this point in time when everything else is just all over the fucking place, gives me something tangible and measurable to focus on and to do, and, of course 3) it means income for my family and me.

I think the hardest part for me about where I am right now is the feeling of helplessness, powerlessness, and lack of virtually any kind of control. We Fire people do not handle these kind of situations very well typically. I have always fought – granted, most of the time I’m fighting things that I shouldn’t be (just another form of resistance). Chalk it up to numerous past lives as a warrior of some sort, sheer stubbornness, or who knows what. Right now, however, I am faced with numerous things that I cannot fight. 

I cannot fight the depression that seems to be choking the life out of my Beloved each day. I cannot fight the lack of jobs out there that would be good for/hire L. I cannot fight L’s broken arm. I cannot fight the fact that our radiant and incredible 19 yr old was raised by the Spawn of All Evil (my Beloved’s diagnosably sadistic sociopath of a biological father), was traumatized and has massive gaps in his memory, does not want to do any healing work right now, developmentally is at the age of about 12 at best and that the poisonous socialization he received seems to leak out and is impacting our girls.  I cannot fight our amazing and brilliant 14 yr old’s difficulty with processing emotions and subsequent tendency to internalize everything. I cannot fight our sweet and compassionate 10 yr old’s clinginess and falling back on throwing her energy around like a mace because psychically she knows things are not okay, yet she’s too young to be able to figure it out and do anything constructive about it nor the fact that she should have to.  I cannot fight the former supervisor of my practicum class and his lack of responsiveness to my emails and inquiries about completing my hours I need to finish my damn degree. I cannot fight. Not the way I’m accustomed to, anyway, which puts me in very unfamiliar territory where results seem to be much slower and far more infrequent in manifesting. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be here. Not here as in ‘on the planet’ here – I have no intentions of leaving any time soon. Rather, actively being in this space. Something has to change and I have no idea how to change it or what “it” even is. What I know is that my family is suffering.

I know also that I need to process, and I also know I don’t always have words to use to do that. Something I intend to start doing here is to lean back on something I have always used to help me process: music. I started playing the piano when I was about 7 yrs old and took lessons all the way through high school. Whenever I was in some kind of funk, my mom would always tell me to go bang on the piano (not literally, though I did often choose songs that were very powerful and played them loudly). I don’t have a piano right now, so I will resort to finding songs that fit where I am in some way, shape, or form and posting them here.

I’m starting that now. Although this post has had a lot of words, I want to officially send some musical SOS message out into the Universe. I don’t work with angels in my spiritual practice. It’s not that I don’t believe they exist – I very much do, though not in the way most people think of them, what with halos, wings, and serene demeanors 24/7. So this song isn’t so much about the angels specifically (though I certainly wouldn’t turn down any aid they had to offer), but rather the Divine Itself.


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