RedHead Confetti

This year, so far, has been a difficult one for many of us. Politics and our activism aside (or as far aside as we can place something so close to our hearts, so innate to who we are), it's not quite the end of the first quarter, and already there have been losses in my family, and in the families of my friend-family. These losses, these deaths, have come with, and without, warning. Some of my friends are in their own watches, waiting for someone they love and adore to pass from life-- knowing it could be tomorrow, or it could be months from now, but wait they do. Some of us already said good bye, and are dealing with the aftermath that this tsunami of grief has created in our lives. I don't have any words of wisdom for anyone going through this; hell, I don't have any words of wisdom for myself going through this. It's just a stage of life I'm going through, something that people I love are going through, and so it's something on my mind right now. In Jan...

I know I haven't been writing, but I have been busy with fostering and work. I got hired in at the Hermitage a couple weeks ago, and the adjustment of schedules has been a little difficult. I'll write more about my awesome, kick-ass job later. Today, I want to talk about mental illness. I read Salon.com with some regularity. Maybe twice a week I pop over there to see what's up, and what's new. A couple weeks ago I found this article, and as I adore Greta Christina, I read it! (She's an amazing speaker and writer, and you can see her blog here ). I remember I had seen a headline at CNN that Rick Warren's kid had committed suicide and that week Warren had finally started preaching again. I didn't know anything about the gent, except he was Warren's kid, and well, I have a very low opinion of Rick Warren. That doesn't mean I celebrated his death, or anything like that; in fact, I felt bad for his family, like everyone with a heart does wh...

Trigger Warning: This blog is dark, and rambling, and angry, and hurt, and personal. It's not an accusation against my husband. I know he's not mentioned hardly at all, because this is how I feel. He is, and has been amazing through this whole thing. He also tries very hard to derail my inner peanut gallery. However, if you're depressed right now, or having a hard go of it, you may want to skip this one. I don't want to spiral you down. We'll make it out, right? And everything will be OK. I'm sitting here, on the verge of a depressive episode. I say this, not for sympathy, but for perspective. I know that I, and only I, can get out of, through or avoid an episode. It's not up to anyone else to help me, and really, no one can. It's an internal struggle that no one sees, no one can cheer you on, navigate the short route through, or even lend a hand. It's always been this way, for me... and always will be. I accept this struggle, as part of living;...

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, probably over the past six months or so, actually. Thinking about religious thought, philosophy and the nature of everything. Really, it's a mini-religious crisis, much like the one I had at 15 or so when I started really reading that bible everyone swore told me the answer to everything, and yet it told me the opposite of everything I'd been taught. This time is different, I'll admit, but not by much. I have thought this in circles, spoke to my partner about it, and now I'm going to meander my way through these thoughts and see where I come out. Well, I guess I already know where it's coming out, but I'm curious to see if it ever makes more sense. I've been Pagan for many years, almost twenty, actually. In that time I've often thought of the God and Goddess as personification of the creative power, and in many ways, the universe itself, rather than persons. I felt that as humans we can't even wrap ou...