I’ve been having a bit of a personal depression session the last few days. Since my last post, and the commentary between both TH and I regarding it, I’ve just said, “fuck it.” It wasn’t even a big “fuck it,” but a minor one. I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling or why I was feeling it, otherwise I probably would have written about it. It seemed that whenever I was trying to puzzle it all out, something would come up or I would end up falling asleep or I would live in a quiet place in my head. It didn’t really matter. The point was that I didn’t actually want to know what was causing my “fuck it” attitude. It was there; it was going to stay.
In my big “fuck it” attitude, I’ve been staying away from all aspects of my altars. I won’t look at them. I won’t clean them. I haven’t removed any offerings. I haven’t done a damn thing with them. I don’t want to be bothered with any of it at this point. It’s not a lack of belief or a crisis of faith, but just a simple feeling that I’ve been eating, sleeping, breathing, dreaming, loving, and hating it all long enough where a break was necessary. I needed time off to figure things out. I need a quiet time long enough to decide what the next step happened to be. But, you know, I’m constantly reminded that “wants and desires don’t figure into this.” I may have a need for a quiet time, but the OTHERS™ I work with have another thought on that. In other words, Hekate started bothering me up a storm and no matter what I wanted to do – sit around, watch television, and not be bothered – she wouldn’t leave me alone.
Sit down with me, she was saying. I have a big message for you. I finally, angrily, submitted because I just wanted to get her off of my back. None of my usual trappings went into all of this. I didn’t light a candle. I didn’t light the Christmas lights over the altar. I didn’t sweep away some of the detritus from the bouquet of flowers I bought her for the new moon. I didn’t do anything except sit down, belligerently, and demand to know what the fuck she wanted. I pulled three cards and you know what they said? Get your head out of your ass. I slammed the cards away and threw my hands in the air. I said, quiet literally, “Fuck that shit; no. If my head is in my ass, it’ll be in my fucking ass.” Not quite poetic, even a little amusing, but I was angry with her “big” message. That was it? That was all? And as Devo reminded me earlier that day, this is me.
I blew off some steam about it and decided that maybe I should sit down with her. But, you know? The answers she had to give me had nothing to do with the initial cause of my being angry with all of this. None of this had anything to do with anything except the Big Thing that keeps poking into my life with little hints and fucked up shit. That’s what she wanted to tell me about, but I didn’t want to know about any of that shit. I just wanted to have someone to let out and cry to. She evidently wasn’t going to let me do that. So, I threw my hands into the air, put her divination tools away, and just flopped onto the couch for a while.
I started talking to Dee about all of this. And that’s when it really crystallized what was going on inside my head and my heart. It wasn’t that I was angry, in so much, with Hekate. It was that I don’t want this. I want to work on my shadow elements and whatnot; I want to become whole again. However, I don’t want all of this bullshit trappings that go with it. I remember the quiet days when it was just me and my Egyptian ladies, palling around. I had a lot of hard times during those months; I won’t lie. But it was easier. I understood them and I knew what it was that was wanted from me. It was easier. And I was so angry with Hekate and Papa Legba that all of these non-Kemetic trappings were happening.
I want to be a Kemetic, in other words.
But, again, my words always get thrown back at me because I’m actually really good at figuring things out quickly and I just forget my own message a lot.
Our wants and desires don’t figure into this.
I left it alone. I was doing much better with Dee’s advice the next day. In effect, she told me to get the fuck into the boat and quit whining about it. L had her own words of wisdom on it, too. She told me that I had better get in the motherfucking boat and quit whining about it and I had better start paddling before demons start to eat up my paddles. So, I started paddling. I got into the boat, with a lot of grumbling, and I started to paddle. But, I got some other fucking news yesterday that was pretty fucked up and made me angry all over again. It was part and parcel, but it also had little to do with it. But it made me so very angry all over again.
I stopped paddling.
So, last night, I went to take off my bracelet to Papa Legba before bed. I had been wearing my religious jewelry all day, feeling all connected and shit until the terrible news happened. The bracelet would not come off. I couldn’t grab the string that released the catch from the shells. It wouldn’t come off. I decided to just leave it there instead of breaking it to get it off; it wasn’t worth it. I also figured that it was time Papa Legba came into my dreams again. The last time he did, we went dancing to blow off some awesome steam. This time, there was no dancing. There was a lot of fucking arguing, though.
Before bed, in a fit, I went into rave-mode. I just began to unleash all of my steam at him and Hekate both.
“What the hell is the matter with you two? Isn’t part of your job supposed to be to help me out as well as to take care of me? If I’m fucking homeless, how am I supposed to do anything for you? Or is that the new big lesson you have in mind? You want me homeless, living out of a fucking car? I am done. I am so fucking done. I am beyond done with the two of you. No more offerings. No more booze. No more coffee. No more flowers. No more chocolate. No more little gifts. No more motherfucking nothing because I’ve fucking had it with your uselessness. You expect me to bend over backwards for you, but what are you doing for me?”
Apparently, Papa Legba had some feels on my rant because we argued for the rest of the night. I don’t even know what the hell we argued about, in all honesty, because I’m just not that grand at remembering our moments together. But, we fought about what I said and the offerings. We fought about what he was doing to “help” me. We fought about the Christian friend and that bullshit. We fought about the misconceptions of outsiders. We fought about offerings. We fought about everything. I remember, at one point, his desperation when he said something like, “You just can’t stop. You can’t.” I don’t know if the desperation had to do with the idea that I would stop working with him, cold-turkey, or if it was the thought of losing the offerings I provide.
I really don’t know.
It doesn’t matter.
This morning, I got up and I gave him his hot coffee. This afternoon, I will go out and buy him a small bottle of Cruzan because he really does enjoy it.
I guess I made a decision here.
I’ll keep fucking paddling because my wants and desires don’t figure into this.