I don’t know how to express my emotions even on my best days, due to what’s known as alexithymia. But I will give it my best try here and now.
Life is dreadfully unfair. I’m sitting here in my favorite park, which is currently being swept by police to remove homeless encampments. I will never understand why it matters where people live. If someone wants to live in a tent next to the river, why not leave them to it? This country has a housing crisis in general, and my area is exceptionally affected by it. We displaced our indigenous community from its sacred site and put a park on top of it. Now, seemingly not satisfied, we are throwing away more people as if they were garbage.
Late July has the same affect on my emotions as does January. It’s been exceedingly hot this year, and then, we were met with the Canadian wildfires that made our air almost unbreathable. It was impossible to go outside without smelling rancid smoke, and the sky was so dark, cars drove around with headlights and automatic lamps popped on at three in the afternoon. But I would be remiss to ignore the most pressing issue in my life at hand.
On July 20th, 2012, I lost my grandmother. Now, this July, my mother, her daughter, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.
I’m infuriated.
I’m lost and empty.
I’m worried and anxious.
But most of all, I’m gripped by the sense that it’s somehow my fault.
People have accused me of being a bad child, and perhaps it’s true. For years, I was consumed in rage and I didn’t care who I hurt with it. I’m too quick to blame others and not work on myself. I can be selfish and make excuses for my poor decisions. I let people use me, and I do what they ask me to do. I didn’t consent to being used, but isn’t it still my fault for following orders?
Loki and my two spouses are insisting that I not feel this way. I try to take their advice. But Oðin warned me that her cancer would return, and I didn’t heed his warning.
The worst case scenario is that she has six months to live.
On the upcoming full moon, Loki is instructing me to head to the cemetery. I will do so while under a high dose of psilocybin, so that I may reach ego death. I will then communicate with the ghosts that reside there.
Am I apprehensive to do this? Very much so! But I’m sure that it’s the right thing to do. I’ve lost the fear of my own death, but I’m still terrified of losing my loved ones. Maybe this will allow me to conquer my fears.
I may write one last post this month after my utiseta, or else I will save it for after Lughnasadh. We will see.
But hopefully, I’ll be alright in the end.
