Does anyone ever just get a sudden burst of random interest?

Like, sitting over a cup of coffee and out of the blue thinking "I would LOVE to know more about shark evolution?"

Cue the book search binge.

#books #science #bookstodon #BrainThings

Well, I definitely need to stay away from volcano alerts for the time being.

Because it’s almost 3 AM and several weird brainhole visions later, this happened.

Have digital mixed media art. I need to attempt sleep..

-Lazarus

#brainThings #brainhole #DigitalArt #insomnia #mixedMedia #myArt #visualArt #volcanoAlerts

So I Think I May Be More Aroace Than Originally Estimated??

I’ve been doing some Thinking about how my brain works, and it would seem that my particular DICK HEAD COMBINATION OF AUDHD gives me the worst traits of both autism AND ADHD. Like, if given enough stimulants and time, I can hyperfocus forever on something I’m fascinated with to the point where I learn an ungodly amount of information about it and retain nearly all of it. Not just that, but I make creations with that knowledge, too. This fucking blog, for example. It’s linked in with the Fediverse via ActivityPub and Alex Kirk’s masterful Friends plugins, etc.. My numerous special interests have been combining, reshuffling and making unholy bastard children in my mental Back 40 on this tiny hell site since May because of the way my cracked brainhole works.

Conversely, in order to socialize, I have to focus on whatever social thing is going on around me completely and let myself dissolve into it. Switching between whatever the fuck project has taken hold of my mind and going into a social activity of any form is a multistep process that requires me ACTUALLY MANUALLY SHIFTING MY BRAIN AWAY from the project rabbit hole and into the social one. And there is a grouchy hell to pay if I’m interrupted mid project.

However, I thought about it a step further. I have pretty much always been able to discern the difference between the feelings I get when the various happy chemicals, dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin, are triggered in my brain, body, etc., and upon further contemplation, I began to wonder if that’s why my particular bastard flavor of AuDHD is such a bastard to begin with. Because what I noticed from years of combing back through my system’s memories both pre and most massive integration is that my happy chemicals seem to be fucking heavily partitioned, and perhaps that’s why I can discern the difference between the feelings they give me in the first place. Hence that’s probably why I have to manually shift between projects (dopamine) and socializing (oxytocin).

Serotonin is a whole other can of worms for me and I have to manually induce that bitch, too. It often takes days and that’s a whole OTHER post. I might write about that bastard chemical later, lol. She is a cruel mistress 🤣

Last night, a long time aroace friend dropped me into a Facebook group called [aroace confusion intensifies]. I’ve identified as demi-aromantic/demi-asexual for some time, but as I kept relating to more and more posts, I thought more and more about the happy chemical partition theory I have going and all of my relationships, both current and past, and how my batshit brain might play into ALLLL of that.

Now, I do experience attraction to SOME people. But with the whole “having to shift my brain manually into a state where it won’t scream when I need to socialize” thing, the frequency in which I fall into random projects, and the fact that I experience a near complete lack of linear time and object permanence, said attraction takes a VERY LONG TIME to form, if it ever forms at all. Deep, genuine, romantic attachment to a person takes EVEN FUCKING LONGER. Because what the ENTIRE fuck is a “romance” as society has established it, anyway? So it takes my crippled ass YEARS sometimes to get a damned clue. And I think my cracked brainhole is why, lmao. Polyamory has been a lifesaver in that regard because in order to have a healthy polyamorous relationship, the people involved HAVE TO ENGAGE IN A HEFTY AMOUNT OF NEGOTIATION FROM THE OUTSET about expectations and things about the relationship, which my clueless ass can DEFINITELY get behind. 🤣

So unfortunately, when person number ten billion comes up to me is like “LAZARUS. I LOVE YOUR WORK. I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU. PLEASEEEEEE DATE ME, ETC”, more often than not, I have just emerged from my mental Laz Cave, haven’t seen or interacted with a soul in fourteen hours or more, and haven’t shifted into Oxytocin Mode yet, which is necessary for human bonding, so I’m like,

“uh. What year is it again?”

Stay tuned for more (brainhole) magic, gremlins.

-Lazarus

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Tales From The Blanket Lump

Hey, everyone. Lazarus here. Sorry for going fucking dark for the last little while.

Lumine visited this past week, during which time I was so goddamned stressed my body came inches from basically falling apart. It wasn’t his fault at all, and he was in fact a most excellent baby. If anyone is to blame, it’s Zelda for dropping the ball when it came to logistics and stressing Emerson and myself out so goddamn badly it started to take a physical toll on both of us. I ended up getting everything set up for Lumine’s arrival and picking him up from the train station pretty much single-handedly because if I hadn’t, he would have been marooned there for a couple hours at the very least, which would not have been Emerson’s fault, he had to work and could not escape early.

Emerson and Lumine bonded quite well, and Lumine actually bonded so well with Zelda’s legendarily shy and skittish cat and made me happy stim so hard in the process that he got an invitation to move up here once more shit shakes out on all of our ends, so that’s absolutely and legitimately lovely.

That leaves ongoing drama with Zelda, which sent me into a chronic pain flare across three body systems from which I am still recovering and now I have a chest cold to boot. I appear to have gotten so damn stressed that I started my menstrual cycle a week early, which most likely knocked out my immune system, allowing for this shit to happen. Oh, and Lumine is fucking sick, as well. I’m fucking sick of the interpersonal stress, and I’m sick and tired of it making me sick and tired.

So, I’ve essentially dropped my weight where a lot of shit is concerned and have stuck myself in a lump of blankets to sleep off this chest cold most of the time. Sleep has always been my favorite alibi when I don’t want to get involved in interpersonal nonsense, as most of my close people know that my sleep is sacrosanct and I do not get much of it.

When I haven’t been asleep, I have been watching Netflix, eating delicious food that Emerson made, or calling and hanging out with people that don’t stress me the fuck out. In other words, I am pretty intentionally being fucking useless to people who are causing a great deal of chronic stress because I quite simply do not have the energy to deal with this shit anymore. Like… I am so drained by this shit that my body will just make me pass the fuck out rather than deal with it. I quite literally physically can’t, and I’m going with my body’s cues here.

Hell yeah for becoming ungovernable and unusable.

Sometimes, though, my brain is tired and my body isn’t. That’s when I just shut my eyes for a bit and chill and let my brain rest and wander for a minute away from my phone or whatever the hell I’ve been doing that’s been making me so tired. It helps, and whenever I regain the capacity to get back to the task at hand, I get back to it.

During one of those brain naps, I got the idea for what could turn into my sixteenth album once my executive dysfunction releases its hold on me. I haven’t been able to play my instruments or record anything for awhile due to being so damn tired and stressed, but I hope I’ll eventually get back to it by prioritizing energizing people and things. I always do. Sometimes I just need a brain nap. Or an actual nap.

I’ve also discovered that watching Netflix helps get my brain in order when I want or need to spend long periods of time alone by acting as a sort of other presence or presences in the room so that it’s easier to both keep track of time (something I don’t have a concrete sense of without an anchor, like music or TV) and a semblance of human company without the pressure to engage back.

It’s easier to eat, stay hydrated, and generally take care of myself with shows I enjoy as an external anchor point. And considering that most of my stress is interpersonal, sometimes it’s nice to just…be able to listen, watch, and get invested in shit without having to do something about it, you know?

I also haven’t let myself really get invested in fiction in a long ass time (around a decade or longer) since I tend to get extremely deeply invested in anything I enjoy beyond my own fiction, so it feels wonderful to be a fucking fan of shit again. Emerson got me hooked on a show called The Magicians on a hunch that I would like it, and it’s honestly like what would happen if The Chronicles of Narnia and Doctor Who had a more dark, more fucked up baby than the both of them, and I am unfortunately quite invested in this bloodbath fuckshow. It reminds me a fair bit of my audio drama The Third Prophecy, and so a lot of the dark shit in it doesn’t really bother me, surprisingly. It’s the sort of thing I would write, and I am of the firm belief that real people are far scarier and more fucked up.

If you can handle the extremely dark tomfuckery, I highly recommend it.

Well, dearly beloved hooligans, I am getting tired again, so I must go rest my mind once more. Whee. I love y’all. Stay tuned for more magic ✨

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#agoraphobia #beingFuckingUselessForOnce #brainThings #chronicFatigue #chronicIllness #cptsd #creativity #deconditioning #deconstruction #drama #Emerson #healing #Lumine #polyamory #postTraumaticGrowth #recovery #rest #sliceOfLife #socializingAsADisabledPerson #vitaminB100Experiment #whereTheFuckIsMyInternalScreamingTag #Zelda

A short post, I think.

Hey, everyone. I have very little brain power right now, but I wanted to drop a mental image/vision I had in the sort of twilight state between sleeping and waking earlier while I was trying to nap. That failed miserably, as this image freaked me out so badly that I haven’t really been able to calm myself down since. I saw the phrase “mene, mene, tekel, upharsin” written in red on a public bathroom wall in a nearby grocery store. This phrase originally appeared in the book of Daniel in the Bible as a warning to the king Nebuchadnezzar that his days as ruler were about to come to an end. I believe it’s also the origin of the modern phrase “the writing is on the wall”. I often see things in that sort of twilight state, but this was not the sort of thing I was expecting my brain to conjure up. I’m an ex Mormon who had a special interest in the Bible for many years, but I haven’t thought about the Book of Daniel with any degree of seriousness since before my first marriage, and given world events, this is a strange thing to see/start thinking about suddenly.

I don’t like this, and have a splitting headache now, which often accompanies the times I See Shit. So I’m going to attempt to pass out now. Happy early 11/11 portal day to all who plan on observing it tomorrow, and here’s hoping there’s no more weird shit in my brain for the time being. I need a good night’s sleep.

Your very rattled sorcerer,

Lazarus.

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#bookOfDaniel #brainThings #chronicFatigue #sorcery #whereTheFuckIsMyInternalScreamingTag

Hey, everyone. This is your trusty guide and sorcerer, Lazarus, once again. Today was very slow moving, as I woke up tired and I didn’t really recover much energy all day. I don’t think the weather helped much, nor did my anxiety about the upcoming presidential elections, but my pain wasn’t too bad, and I got most of the things done that I had wanted to do. This post is the last major thing that I wanted to do today, so even if I crash after writing it, I will have done plenty today. Both Zelda and Emerson are over here tonight on the off chance that things go to hell locally with the aforementioned elections. I find it ironic that the elections are being held on November 5, which is Guy Fawkes’ Day in the UK, but that’s neither here nor there.

I’ve been meditating of late about how a lot of modern culture, especially in the United States, doesn’t prioritize rest and leisure in the slightest. We’re often conditioned from birth to be human doings rather than human beings, and it creates this enormous culture wide shame around things like rest and on a deeper level, disabilities and chronic ailments. Everyone is in a hurry, and many people are left behind if they can’t keep up for any reason and it kills them slowly.

Practically from birth, I was one of those people who was constantly at risk of being left behind, even by my own family. Both of my parents were entrepreneurs, and my father, Xavier, had built his business into a smash success. My mother, Hera, would often say that she didn’t know what she wanted to do when she grew up, but she ran a photography business for most of my youth while simultaneously homeschooling my brother, Blue, and I.

Both parents were basically allergic to what they considered to be “laziness”. I was disabled because I had survived heart failure and then a stroke in quick succession when I was a baby, and was very atypical in other ways as a child, both mentally and physically, so I had to push myself from an early age to keep up with the rest of my family. I had to undergo numerous operations as a result of the heart failure/stroke combination, which left me in severe pain the majority of the time, so it was a battle to keep up with my very athletic parents in any real way, and they gave me shit for not being very physically strong. I grew up thinking that everyone around me was in severe pain that they just…hid, and that being pain free was just more BS that companies said to try to sell you something. I didn’t learn that that was false until I was 24 or so.

Mentally, I was different from nearly everyone I knew, as well. I could read by the time I was 18 months old, and was both blessed and cursed with an extremely accurate autobiographical memory, so I could remember nearly everything that had ever happened to me in excruciatingly accurate detail. I also had a heightened intuition and next to no sense of linear time, which only got stronger as I got older.

Not only that, but because of the age when all of the things happened with the stroke and things, I didn’t attach in any meaningful way to most of my family members or..anyone, really. I sort of always knew that they were garbage. Pair that with the massive vocabulary that I got from being able to read so young and an almost complete lack of shame or regard for them, and I wasn’t shy about letting them know how I felt about the lot of them and their bullshit. This caused a lot of problems. I was very angry and lonely from an early age. I didn’t fit in anywhere, and I didn’t particularly want to. I felt like a stranger in my own family. By the time I was perhaps five or six, I wanted to be an adult so I leave and not come back.

Nobody really knew how to handle me. Xavier did his best, but my mother, Hera, sort of gave up on getting to know me as I was and settled for trying to make me normal as she defined it. There was only one problem. I had survived so many things that should have objectively killed me that there was no fucking way I was going to walk away from any of that shit normal, even if I had been properly nurtured and met where I was. It didn’t really work and got very, very ugly.

I came out of my childhood cripplingly anxious, perfectionistic, plural, and dripping with self hatred to such an extent that I was ashamed of my very being and pretty actively suicidal. Her definition of normalcy was nowhere close to normal, and certainly was nowhere close to how I functioned best.

I was still in agonizing pain, both mentally and physically. I didn’t care about myself at all, and that translated to my relationships. I loved people, but had no idea how to show it. Because of how I was raised and my trauma history, I unconsciously thought at the time that the highest form of love was begrudgingly tolerating someone’s presence, and that I would be lucky to find a partner at all, much less one that actually valued me for who I was and treated me well. So my first partners were less than stellar.

Over time, I started working through my trauma in greater depth and came to find out that much of my upbringing and therefore Hera’s definition of normal was very, very much not normal. Not even close. I think a better word to describe it would be unhinged. A major part of that examination has been looking at my anxiety around rest and productivity. That’s taken a lot.

I have no internal sense of when I need to quit until I am so tired I can’t stand up or my hypermobile joints are dislocating, and that’s taken a great deal of work to unfuck in any real way. I don’t like doing nothing. I deeply enjoy being productive and keeping my mind and hands busy, especially since I have had to spend much of the last three years in bed and have this gnawing sense that I need to make up for lost time, so to speak. I’m almost constantly bored if I’m not actively engaged in something deeply, and I have a very hard time slowing down and relaxing.

I know all of this is trauma talking, and I need to give myself more breaks and leisure time. But how? I’m still trying to figure that out. In a way, writing here is a nice balance, as it gives me a nice focal point for all of the chaos in my brain with no external algorithm to appease. I write here when I want to and am able and only really then. Granted, I still put a great deal of pressure on myself to write regularly, but I do that so that writing doesn’t get lost in the shuffle of the maelstrom that is my life. I actively want to write and deeply enjoy it when I do. I’ve always enjoyed writing.

Additionally, I’ve been using writing on to give myself a mental pause button and time to sit and reflect on what I’ve been thinking about of late relatively free of distractions. It’s a challenge, but I love challenges. I love trying to articulate my meditations as clearly as I’m able, as that gives me a handy thing to refer back to, even if no one ever happens upon this blog later. I always feel lighter after I write, so this is in its own way a form of rest, I suppose.

I’ve found myself completely out of energy at around three o clock in the afternoon consistently, as well, and I have done my best to stop fighting the fatigue and let myself drift gently into a nap. Apparently this isn’t my body being weird, nor is it a chronic fatigue thing, it’s just a human one. This was reassuring to learn, and may help me fight the fatigue even less. This is a fucking process for sure…

Ah, well, I think that’s enough for today, y’all, as my brain is starting to get tired. Stay tuned for more magic, glorious entities near and far. I’ll be around.

Your very sleepy bored cat of a sorcerer,

Lazarus

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#backstory #beingAFuckingBadass #brainThings #chronicFatigue #chronicIllness #conditioning #cptsd #deconstruction #electionAnxiety #onWriting #postTraumaticGrowth #recovery #rest #vitaminB100Experiment

Hey, everyone! Lazarus here. I’m writing this post a bit later in the day than I would like, but sometimes shit happens and I have no energy until late and I have to put my energy level and available brain cells (or lack thereof) first. That’s precisely what I ended up doing.

Today has been an odd one, especially mentally. I spent the majority of it alone as both Zelda and Emerson were away at work, which gave me plenty of time to think. Zelda sent me some money to pick up vapes for both of us since the tobacco I’ve been smoking requires me to often nearly burn my thumb to light my pipe or burn it outright, and I’m really not a fan of doing that. (Don’t get on me for smoking, it helps me get my tired ADHD brain in good working order, and I’m pretty sure my various chronic ailments will take me out before anything nicotine related will.) As I was walking to the excellent shop where my partners and I pick up most of our vapes and related paraphernalia, it felt almost like being lost in a memory. I’m not sure if it’s how I’ve been feeling lately and what I’ve been exploring of late, but it felt similar to being back in Alaska in October-November of 2019, some five years prior during my first marriage.

My marriage to my first husband, Fang, was strange in many ways. He wasn’t home often due to the fact that he poured his everything into his career as a systems administrator where he worked an hour away, and when he was home, it wasn’t pleasant. He would either spend his time deep in video games with our housemates or fighting with me to try and get me to do shit he wanted that I didn’t consent to by any stretch of the imagination.

He wanted to be far more active than my body could handle at that point and to clean up after him and the housemates simply because I didn’t work outside of the home, despite the fact that I was working two jobs at that point, just largely from home, and was very prolific creatively when I wasn’t working. I had fought my entire life for my independence and autonomy and was not having it.

We had two very different ideas of what we wanted the relationship to look like, and it turned into a protracted power struggle. So I came to relish the long stretches of time when I would be alone, as it afforded me a measure of freedom I had never gotten to have before. Before shipping off to Alaska, my mother, Hera, kept close tabs on me, even when I was away at college, and I had begun extricating myself from her that summer and was a good 4,000 miles away back in Texas.

So by October of 2019, I had a great deal more time and freedom on my hands than I had ever had before and was beginning to explore what that meant for me for the first time in my life at 22. Fang was controlling, sure, but he simply wasn’t around often enough to stop me from building a life of my own. I began doing just that that summer, and didn’t stop as autumn approached.

I had spent the last several years examining my faith, and was fairly certain by that point that I wasn’t a Christian, at least not a typical one. This deconstruction eventually led me to start exploring kitchen witchcraft and divination, and I started blending my own teas and made my own divination system that year. At that point, things like Tarot hadn’t interested me yet and wouldn’t for another several years. Many other aspects of mainstream witchcraft made me deeply uncomfortable, and I would come to find out later that many of these things were actually closed practices that belonged to cultures that I was not a part of. They were unsettling for good reason!

I was also beginning to examine my trauma in depth for the first time and come to face to face with much of the extent of what my family had done to me. It was actually what had led to me attempting to extricate myself from Hera that year. It failed when she threatened to fly up to Alaska that winter in a message to Fang, and she continued to be in league with him long after I left in 2020.

Now, however, I have far more ACTUAL freedom and am striving toward a life that actually works. My partners know it would be foolish to attempt to control me. I don’t stand for that bullshit, I made that clear to them from the jump, and disclosed my disabilities and need for a lot of rest up front, as well, so they don’t push me harder than I can handle.

I’m doing my best to not just keep Hera and the toxic people in her life that enabled her bullshit out of my life, but unfuck my own toxic bullshit as well. Trauma explains poor behavior, but doesn’t excuse it, and I don’t take bullshit from myself or anyone else, and do my utmost to take accountability when I’m in the wrong, even if the other party doesn’t mind what I did.

I do a lot of shit that I don’t like and try and do better, even if the other people around me don’t hold me to that high of a standard, weren’t harmed, what have you. If I don’t like the outcome of what happened, I learn from it and do whatever I can to grow from it. Full stop. I didn’t do that when I was 22.

Additionally, I’m still exploring my craft, just at a deeper level. Everything I do rides the line between the mundane and the magical, and if I can’t find a scientific or academic explanation for something, I turn to the metaphysical or spiritual for answers. Conversely, I like to try and find answers for what I’m exploring spiritually in science, as well. I was basically raised by scientists and doctors, but I’m also an intuitive person with a fascination for pretty much everything and hoard knowledge of any kind like a dragon.

So yeah. Here’s to the next… How long has it been? Five years? Yeah, I think it’s been five years now. Linear time has never been my strong suit, haha. Stay tuned for more magic, and I will see you beautiful people next time. Happy Halloween, Blessed Samhain, whatever y’all happen to observe 💛

Your faithful, if eternally confused by the passage of time, sorcerer, Lazarus

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#2019 #adventures #autumn #backstory #beauty #beingAFuckingBadass #brainThings #chosenFamily #closetClassicsMilwaukee #conditioning #control #deconditioning #goingForAWalk #introspection #postTraumaticGrowth #progress #reflection #sorcery #spirituality #witchcraft #workInProgress

Hey, everyone! I’m currently writing on here as my love Hawthorne works on their story back East as a form of body doubling in spirit. I’m a bit tired and they’re Writer’s blocked to fuck, so knowing that the other  is writing is helping both of us get shit done. I did similarly with Zelda yesterday and Emerson a day or so prior as they worked on their respective blogs.

It’s pretty effective, as we’re all neurodivergent as hell over here and working on projects simultaneously helps keep everyone on task, even if we’re not in the same physical space, like Hawthorne and I currently, or even doing the same thing. Hell, I often simply hang out with Emerson and Zelda and either tell them stories from my youth or teach them things from history while they catch up on household tasks that I couldn’t do due to my myriad disabilities and help that way.

That brings me to what I want to talk about today – creative ways to solve problems and get shit done, especially when there’s lot of obstacles in the way, you’re fucking exhausted and overwhelmed, or, like me when I was at my lowest and had to start learning these skills, you’re almost entirely bedbound and at worst, in essence, alone. Hopefully if you are reading this post because you need it, your circumstances are less dire than mine were. But for the sake of the lesson, I’m gonna teach you with a true story from my life because that’s what I know best.

So, when I need to tackle an extremely large and overwhelming problem with a whole lot of moving parts, the first thing I do is work to accept the problem as it is. I touched on this in my post from the other day about suffering when I talked about the radical acceptance element of that. I can’t really fix a problem if I’m still refusing to accept that there’s a problem OR refusing to deal with the problem head on. This sometimes takes awhile, I will freely admit that. I have to get tired of my own bullshit and tired of suffering before I’m ready to radically accept that there’s a problem and actually face it head on. But once I’m there, it’s go time. I’m analyzing every angle, trying to see what part I’m playing in the problem, how I can do better, what I can do differently, etc..

Here’s a concrete example. In December of 2021, I was bedbound following what was likely a decently severe case of COVID that I ended up having to frontier treat on my own because I was living in an Airbnb in the middle of a Wisconsin winter and I was terrified that if the host found out, I would have nowhere to go and be out in the cold, literally.

I had been fucking sick as a dog most of the latter half of that year and had most likely gotten heat stroke so many times while living out in Philadelphia doing door to door sales that summer that both my heart and brain were a bit… Ah.. Cooked to a degree that the heart damage showed up on blood tests in the ER. One thing led to another, I ended up in Wisconsin, and I got sick again. I slept for the better part of several weeks. I needed to find some way to pay for another month in the place at least, and to not perish in the interim. This was years pre-integration, and Eight, the alter in charge at the time, went hard. So I reasoned in my feverish cotton ball brain that now was not the time to be shy about my needs, terrified of vulnerability though I was, and took a leaf out of one of my partners’ books at the time. I started posting asking for donations, stating clearly that I was waiting on my SSI interview for my disabilities and and would appreciate any help I could get.

With days to spare, my online community pulled through. I was feverish and inexperienced and I would highly recommend NEVER pushing yourself so hard that you end up a feverish lump in a Wisconsin Airbnb having nearly heatstroked yourself to death ten fucking times over, but I was allergic to asking for help until I had found myself in a massive fucking pickle and I spent years trying to do better in that regard. I had to relearn to walk after that, and I hit an enormous wall beginning in about April of 2022 once things got a bit more stable. Had I remained silent in my pride, I wouldn’t have survived that, honestly.

As time has gone on, with my partners gently reminding me to rest and helping take care of me, I have realized that the extent of my hyperindependence itself is a problem. I’m not sure how finding myself in pickles like that didn’t illustrate it for me, but I think I was so delirious and doing shit on my own was so normal up until I crashed in ’22 that I really knew nothing else.

It’s been a gut punch to my pride to delegate so much of my life and needs to others, but conversely, I am fucking disabled, and hyperindependence is what disabled me so badly in the first place. As time goes on, that’s been the biggest thing I’ve been coming up against and detangling these days and finding new ways or making them to cope with – the slow death of the notion that I must do everything now or do everything myself or  I will not receive any form of favorable outcome.

I want to do all the things. Gods, do I want to do all the things. In many ways I miss the active, athletic life I had in my teens and early twenties, but I wouldn’t trade that for what I have going for me now. So that’s an acceptable trade, in my opinion. And what with things like the vitamin B100 experiment I’m doing, I might be more athletic again someday. But I shouldn’t push to do that before my body is ready and safe or else I risk going back to square one, and that would be ass. So let’s not.

Anywho, my brain is getting tired from typing all these words. So I’m gonna go have some water with a bit of salt in it, as that seems to perk me up, maybe some lunch if I can coax myself into it, and I will catch y’all later. Stay tuned for more magic, people!!

Your sleepy sorcerer,

Lazarus

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#2021 #agoraphobia #askingForHelp #backstory #bedbound #beingAFuckingBadass #beingPrivate #brainThings #chronicFatigue #chronicIllness #conditioning #covid #cptsd #deconditioning #deconstruction #delirium #EastCoast #eight #Emerson #Hawthorne #polyamory #problemSolving #ramble #tired #vitaminB100Experiment #Zelda

Hey, everyone. This is Allēna again. This will likely be quite a brief post, as I’m very tired. Today was good, in part because Castor went and dropped about a hundred bucks that we had on hand at our favorite headshop down the road and got some legal good shit and a water pipe for his trouble that looks like uranium glass.

Bills are paid (or will be able to) and so we decided that we get to treat ourselves a bit with the leftover money while saving the rest. I’m glad Castor did. He seems to have accidentally purchased some top shelf shit, though, and we have no tolerance anymore after taking a several months long smoke break. The results have been interesting, to say the least.

Just this morning, I scared Sheik’s tiniest cat shitless because the bowl I had smoked was too big and I was having a panic attack. I have no idea WHY she got so scared, but I do know that being around intense emotions makes her scared, and I was intensely frightened. Poor baby love. I will do my best to make it up to the sweet thing later. She seemed to enjoy it initially and even asked for scritchy for a little bit during the first few minutes before I started panicking too bad.

Once I can calm my fucking brain down, that’s when it gets interesting. The system has always enjoyed a good sativa strain, but the headshop didn’t seem to have any, and we wanted a hybrid, anyway. So Castor got his hybrid. He ended up picking up a roughly 50/50 split hybrid strain. And let me tell you – the combination of mind and body high is fascinating once we actually realize that we’re just stoned and anxious, we aren’t about to have a damn seizure.

It’s almost like the conscious mind takes a backseat and the body takes on a life of its own. What we do think consciously is more or less free from any kind of distortions caused by trauma. Castor got high with Sheik the first time and was entranced by her beauty more than usual. I think this was because once his enormous panic attack finally subsided, his fear was almost…muted and he was able to see himself as he actually saw her without need for the elaborate defense system our traumatized brain put in place. From what I can recall, it was beautiful.

My bowl this morning was similar. I had smoked too much at once, so after I’d convinced the body and mind that I was sufficiently safe, it was as though I saw the world in vivid, intense, lovely color. It was early afternoon and golden light was pouring in through the windows. Then the body got very horny. Like obscenely horny. So I started masturbating and, unbound from the elaborate defenses, the body simply did its own thing while we took a backseat. Good gods, I lost track of how many times we finished. We’ve never been able to do something like that before in our entire life. I felt as fucking beautiful as the afternoon coming through the windows.

Hell, there were so many fucking orgasms today that when I sobered up a bit, I went over to Emerson’s and ate basically my body weight in pizza and cheese (to start) and while his attorney alter, Pendragon was watching a movie, I fell deeply asleep while cuddling him for about 2.5 hours. Pendragon is a deep love of mine and feels very safe, so it was a lovely nap. The pain is better, even when I am sober, too. But the body feels like it’s been hit by a train in a great way. Shit.

I’ll update with more findings as time goes on, but we seem to have uncorked something..

Stay tuned for more magic! For now, though, it’s sleep time…

-Allēna

https://opensorceryy.co/marijuana-tales/

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