Tag Archives: cathartic

Mercury Retrograde BE DAMNED I feel amazing.

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Mercury Retrograde BE DAMNED I feel amazing.

I have had quite the empowering and cathartic last couple of weeks chock full of epiphanies and cosmic 2x4s.

One, I shall not write into narrative for you voyeuristic vampires whom I love. It involves self growth and reflecting on past relationships.

But when it dawned on me, it went something like this:

Then, I read this on my FaceCrack wall:

A Wild Woman doesn’t want to be your Girly friend

Can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it?

Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard?

Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me?

Can you love me then too?

Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight?

Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last kill?

When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then?

What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted?

Will you trust that Spring will return?

Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life?

Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me?

Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire?

Will you fear my shifting shape?

Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does?

Do you fear they will capture your soul?

Are you afraid to step into me?

The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you.

So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here.

Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart.

You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky.

If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you.

If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire.

I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold.

I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching.

So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are.

There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great.

A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm.

She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster.

She will see to it that you shall rise again.

She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.

(c) Alison Nappi 2015

The I saw this and wanted to go run. Dafuq, right?

This is all on top of a windfall at work, in my bank account, with my kids, with my love, with my friends, EVERYTHING. On top of the world and it is strange.

Warning: Passive Aggressive post ahead…. #crazyexes

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Warning: Passive Aggressive post ahead…. #crazyexes

I haven’t had time to do anything meaningful on here in many moons and this will not be truly mind-shattering either. There are lots of things in the world going on that I could write about, Ferguson, California Earthquakes, new ancient aliens episodes, rape culture, journalists being beheaded, etc. But those things are too heavy and I am feeling quite solipsistic. So instead I am taking this space to passive aggressively speak to a cyber stalker whom I (perhaps egotistically) believe will read it.

I have exes. Most of us do. But while I have engaged in some “harmless” ex-stalking in my day like casually checking out their public facebook profile photo just out of plain morbid curiosity, I can with all honesty state I have NEVER friend requested his or her new partner.

I do not want to be their pal. I do not want them to know I was sizing up them up as a previous partner.  

It has actually been sometime since I have done that regardless and I like to think that was due to some insecurity I have outgrown. 

Now, in the last year plus, I have had not one, BUT TWO of my partner’s exes cozying up to me in the cyber world. Really.

One sent threatening messages, showing her true 40+ year old age to be somewhere about 14, this was easily squashed with a magical feature called BLOCKING. No further contact. ¡Salud! 

Oh, but recently, the last month or so, another one popped up. Now mind you, I think my social media presence is ridiculously large, I concur. BUT I have things as locked down as the illusion of privacy permits (sans this blog) and most things have a fake name associated with them or require you need my REAL email to communicate. Well this one, I give her hacker search crazy bitch toolbox props cause she is EVERYWHERE.

On my twitter.

On my facebook.

On my tumblr.

On my instagram.

On my F**KING Pinterest. I had to disable it. I am very sad. Pinterest, get some better privacy settings. Sad face emoticon.

And when the above modes of contact were not successful, she started liking my things or communicating through my partner’s family members we had in common. So I had to delete THEM. That is not good in a newish relationship when you are trying to establish relationships with family members who live out of area, especially when THEY added you, now I just seem rude.

What can be gained of this for you?!

Yes, I can see from your very public disclosures you just got left recently by your partner.

I get it.

I am sorry, but….my partner isn’t available as a back up.

We are currently still together sooooo……

Get some counseling. Talk to a friend in real life. Focus on your kids. Focus on yourself. Self Care. Exes are exes for a reason. Truly.

If my partner wanted communication with you to continue, it would have.

And if that was your angle, um, why would you approach me, not them? Oh, that’s right. They deleted THEIRS cause of this.

DOH.

Stop it.

Just stop. 

Wanderlust, the genes are strong…..

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Wanderlust, the genes are strong…..

Over the years I have simultaneously hated and loved moving. As a child, I hated having to lose hard won friends and MY collected items; they were mine! Why should I have to leave them?

As a teenager, I felt empowered in my lack of belongings. Me, my guitar and a backpack of clothes were all I really cared throughout my world. I eventually got some stuff, but found it very easy and cathartic even to get rid of it all and start over. I did this more often than probably seems healthy, even into my young adulthood. But once my kids were old enough to feel as though things were their possessions and express sorrow over letting go of somethings, I began to associate so much of my childhood with the childhood I was creating for them. And then I started keeping things.

Now mind you, I know I joke about being one pile of crap falling over away from being on “hoarders”, but really I am not that bad. I am on the eclectic end of cluttered but I definitely have too much stuff. I try to have a yard sale and get rid of things when I move, but I don’t move very often anymore so it accumulates…and then I panic. It’s the oddest thing.

I find comfort in my stuff and yet, having things makes me panic. I have not quite really figured out the pathology of it. But I know that as soon as things in my world, material and immaterial start piling up my first instinct is to cut and run. I want to move. I want to declutter. I want to start over. I’m bored. I’m safe. It is fucking terrifying.

Over the last few years, I have found that I can stifle the feeling by rearranging furniture. Painting a room something crazy. redecorating. retheming. But it only works for so long. Most landlords don’t enjoy my molesting their properties with paint and featherdusters and anything else I can slather obnoxious colors on the walls with. Then it happens…. I start to get the wanderlust. My feet start to get that familiar itch…I start to fantasize. I start planning my escape.

Does anyone else cope this way? Suffer this way? I can’t be the only one…..

I am rearranging my house right now. 3 rooms at time. Oy. It’s a hot mess up in here….How long will this change placate me?