You'd like to think your sacrifices will be recognized eventually.
You'd like to think they'd do the same for you as you've done for them.
You'd like to think that because it wasn't always so bad, maybe it'll get better.
You'd like to think maybe one day, they'll appreciate all you've ever done.
You'd like to think you stand to gain back just a fraction of what you've put into it.
You'd like to think that all the years you've spent giving up your own happiness weren't a colossal waste.
I guess it's possible. Anything is possible. According to Infinite Probability, there's a possibility that I might one day open my dryer to find all the laundry has folded itself.
Oh. Yay, I guess.
That's what I read, anyway. But I don't think I'm going to hold my breath, waiting for it to happen.
All that time? It's gone. It's never coming back. The life you missed while waiting for that certain someone to see the value in you cannot be retrieved.
Maybe if you wait a little longer, that laundry will fold itself. One day.
But I doubt it.
And even if it does....
Let's say it does. You're 75 years old. You've spent the last 55 years of your life waiting on that laundry to magically fold itself and justify all the nights you've stayed home alone, waiting for that moment. And then one day, it happens. You open the dryer, and the laundry is folded.
You've been folding this god damn laundry for 55 fucking years, and the only thing you have to show for it now is this one time, one single, fucking time, it finally folded itself and....and what? Are you supposed to be impressed? Did you really just spend all these years waiting on this laundry to do the very basic and minimal thing you've already been doing this whole fucking time? Do you think it's going to put itself away, now, too? Maybe hang itself up in the closet? Take you to the movies and buy you roses in appreciation for all the times you cared enough to wash and dry and fold it by yourself?
Fuck the laundry. Fuck all the time you've spent on it. And fuck waiting around on it to give a shit.
BACKGROUND: Born Southern Baptist. My great grandmother was a tyrant about it. My mother believed in the fire and brimstone god but we only ever went to church sporadically, mostly revival and Easter and what-not. My dad was on and off with it until some time in the 80s when he found Wicca. My parents divorced when I was around 6 or 7 and he kind of bailed on Christianity soon after.
I dabbled in Wicca when I was in my early teens, progressed to obnoxious atheist in my late teens and twenties, and finally went "eh, who fucking cares?" somewhere in my late twenties and went full blown agnostic.
You can give these gods any name or super power you like. All are equally unprovable. For all I know, Tolkien was the only one who got it right. All hail Eru Ilúvatar.
Hecate and Athena and The Horned God and Bastet and Baphomet and Selene and Persephone and Odin - they're all awesome on their own, but none of them really do it for me. There's nothing wrong with them, I just don't see myself as they type of person who wants to drop to her knees and offer her eternal servitude for heavenly favors.
If I were going to worship anyone, it would be Lilith, but seeing how she herself rejected living in a garden paradise if it meant an eternity of being bossed around by a man who believed himself to be superior to her even though they were created as equals, I don't think she's the type of gal who would encourage worship from others.
So, I chose Sailor Moon.
Hear me out.
Sailor Moon is the very first manga I ever read from beginning to end that really touched me. Naoko Takeuchi's use of astrology and minerals and mythology drew me in wholly and completely, and I've been hopelessly in love with the series for well over 20 years now.
Sailor Moon is everything I could ever hope to be as a human being, even without the magical girl powers. She's taken up a huge chunk of my life, without ever demanding anything in return. She is good for the sake of being good, and that's it. I have yet to find a god or goddess who would be so self sacrificing.
She's a fictional character, but the things I love about her are very real to me.
And that is why I choose to keep her as my altar goddess.
Hello again, much neglected blog. Today I want to discuss something that none of my tarot reading friends seem to find all that significant, but it continues to happen, and I don't know what to make of it. It all started on Monday, July 15, 2019. TL;DR - Click for full background sob story. Otherwise, continue below.
My world was shattered the day before. I woke up on my friend's couch, a broken mess of emotion, and left. I slept there the night before due to home troubles, and we were up until about 3am, talking about the things I'd need to do to get right again. It was going to be a long, shitty process. I knew it. Everyone around me knew it. I'd made myself completely vulnerable in my attempt to nurture and care for others. I'd made so many sacrifices for the people I loved, given up all the things I wanted and needed for myself in order to make others happy, and it came back to bite me right in the ass. Hard.
At least, that's how I saw it.
I suppose from another point of view, I'd become codependent, clingy, and emotionally needy. I didn't have a job, because raising four kids (doctor appointments, dentist appointments, school, after school activities, weekend activities, laundry, cooking, homework, grocery trips, etc) took a lot of time. I haven't had a real job since my youngest was born. I was completely reliant on the Head of Household, who had much higher earning potential to me. I gave up having a job and my own source of income to devote myself to these things.
I had no social life. I carted kids back and forth to school, twice a day, there and back. I was on the road anywhere from 2-4 hours a day. That's a lot of gas money and mileage on my car. I couldn't go out with my friends because I was stupid broke. Even silly, small, FREE things like meeting at the town square to walk had to be carefully calculated into my gas consumption every week. I had one single person to rely on for all of my emotional needs, and when you aren't getting along with that one person, you tend to bottle a lot of things up.
And I bottled up EVERYTHING. He worked twelve freaking hours a night. I tried not to burden him with my miseries and frustrations on top of his own, but I became sulky.
I'm getting carried away with backstory. Point is, things were really, really, really fucking bad.
After 19 years together, I was very suddenly and violently single (breaking up is pretty violent, but it wasn't physical - that's not what I mean), with no where to go. I packed what I could into my second hand luggage and a couple of boxes and tossed them into the back of the wrecked car my son had given me, and went to sleep on my friend's couch.
And it was over. Everything I'd done, or tried to do, was absolutely meaningless, and I had nothing to show for it.
I was sitting in my car, waiting, when I pulled Her for the 6th time in a row. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't anything, really. I only even really kept tabs on the number of times she was showing up because she didn't answer any of my more pressing concerns, like wtf is happening to my marriage? or where tf am I gonna live? and so on. Honestly, I felt like it was a bit of a joke, because the Empress represents abundance and femininity and so many other things, and I didn't feel like I had any of that. But this was the moment that I really started to notice her, because I'd pulled her every single day, sometimes multiple times a day, for 3 days. Two or three times? Okay, yeah, that's pretty hardcore, but it might still be a coincidence. Six times, though? As I was going through all of this? (imagine my arms spread out, swiping though a vast, empty nothing. Kthx)
And here is the moment I started paying attention
But that wasn't even the end of it. I ended up pulling her a grand total of ELEVEN times in a row for a solid week. Most of those were single, one card pulls. A few were future positions in three card spreads, and twice were outcomes of the Celtic Cross. I had witnesses on several occasions, and my BFF pulled her for me two of those eleven times. By the end of that week, my husband decided he didn't want to live without me and we started trying to work things out.
After #11 and reconciliation, she stopped coming up for every single reading I did. I guess she felt like she'd made her point, whatever it was, and made herself known. And although she doesn't come up every single reading, she still shows up a lot. Like, a lot lot. Sometimes she straight up falls out of my deck when I'm shuffling. All by herself. She shows up in the "me" position of big reads. She shows up as the outcome. She often pops up during daily one card pulls. She comes up in both of my decks, as well as my husband's deck.
Whatever she represents in my life, she seems pretty inevitable.
