Pagan Blog Project: The Druid Bird’s Dreams

So, I didn’t write last week cos I was busy A) moving Romeo’s bed and B) washing fake blood out of my hair… and yes, my performance of ‘Oedipus Rex’ went pretty well!

This week I thought I’d ramble on about dreams…

I don’t know if I give any credence to the idea that dreams hold powerful meanings, but I do think that they’re important for showing us things that we would otherwise overlook.

For example, at the moment I’m having lots of dreams about people that I used to know but have fallen out of touch with, this can mean a lot of things- it could be a reflection of my fear of the future and the subsequent nostalgia that I’m feeling about the past. It could be that I want those people to see the person that I am now and to be able to have a better relationship with them.

I’m also having lots of dreams about having sex with strangers… this could be taken as a reflection of the fact that I’m a little *cough* horny *cough* at the moment, or could be to do with the prospect of being a new person and meeting new people and moving on with my life into unchartered territory… I reckon it’s probably a combination of all that.

And finally, I’m having dreams about acting. I think this is probably the most self explanatory, acting/directing/yelling at people about drama is what I spend the majority of my life doing, so it’s only natural that when I’m stressing about a show it should creep into my dreams as well.

I think people need to put away the Freud (trust me, I’m a psych student) and think about dreams in a more straight-forward manner, the meaning can sometimes be right in front of your eyes and they can help you shed light on inner conflict.

After all, sometimes the magick is in the common sense…

Blessed be,

Wren x

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What Stigma Means (+Assorted Worrying)

Dear Blog,

So lately things have been interesting- the old black dog has been back for the last month or so, it likes to slacken off when I have company but comes back with vengeance the moment I’m left alone. I’ve been struggling a lot with self-injury and preventing any relapses… it hasn’t been easy but I’m sat here now and can say that it’s been ten months since I last hurt myself, so I’m winning for the moment.

The one thing that’s kind of pissing me off at the moment is the fact that the only thing I’ve never had a problem with- food- is becoming a huge issue. I’ve been comfort eating massively for the last couple of weeks, I literally cannot stop eating- I’ve just come up from the kitchen where I’ve been stood eating ham from the packet. I’m a tiny, small stomached little girl and yet I’m somehow managing to eat what feels like my own weight in food every day- and I’m worried that it’s starting to show.

I feel dead inside, it feels like there’s nothing left and all I can see when I close my eyes are train tracks… I’m not suicidal, I don’t want to die, but the world is going to end. I know it’s going to end… it’s going to explode into a huge ball of fire and flames and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I’m going to die soon- I don’t want to, and I’m not going to do anything that will set me on a course to, or put me in danger, but I don’t have a choice in this. The gate-keepers have decided that my time is up and they’re coming for me.

This is the always hilarious moment where you’re not sure whether I’m being delusional or Pagan… haha. I’d put my money on the former.

I’m living in this strange dream-world again… I don’t know whether to go to the doctors, I bet they’ll give me antidepressants or something, but I used to be so against medication of any sort. I don’t know when I stopped caring- to be honest I care about so little these days, I just can’t breathe any more. It’s taking everything I have to keep on caring about my appearance, let alone anything else.

I’ve been so snappy lately- always angry at people. I like to joke to Romeo that I only lose my temper about once every century, but that’s been reduced to nonsense recently. I’ve been managed to lose my rag about once a day for the last month or so, I just get so angry all the time and I can’t bear it.

Lately I’ve been starting to realise what stigma means. It doesn’t mean being thrown in a dungeon with other wall-lickers, or being forced into a lobotomy; it means the naked fear in your old friend’s eyes when she finds you hallucinating. It means the long, awkward pauses in conversation where people don’t know what to say, it’s when people give you pathetically easy tasks or ignore you or seem unable to make eye contact with you… it’s when they hug everyone else and not you… it’s when they won’t be alone with you.

It’s only been hitting me recently- plus the practical limitations of this thing, something that I have to think seriously about now I’m coming up to leaving home- so I mentioned it to Callum and Cee, I mentioned how many doors are closed to me, how hard I’m finding it, etc…

They responded by telling me that it would open doors for me (“Look at *insert famous mentalist*, she’s so successful!”) and that everything’s actually fine because “Mind have a new advert! I’ll send you the link!”

… So I may have gotten a little pissed off…

Thankfully the conversation turned to a mutual friend who has problems with her eating and I was left to sit and seethe in silence. I was hurt and insulted and angry at the way they pushed my concerns to one-side and refused to listen to the valid points I was trying to make. I never talk about my mentalism, so when I do I expect a sympathetic audience, rather than one that tries to pathetically sweep my problems under the carpet.

What really pissed me off was the way that they presumed to know better than me what it’s like to live with a mental illness. Neither of them have ever had any mental health problems (as far as I’m aware) and yet they acted like they were experts.

I know what I’m facing, and I know what I live with- when I talk about it I want people to realise that, not offer me a pathetic platitude because they don’t know what else to say. I’m bloody sick of being treated like a child- I’m the only one who knows what it’s like to live inside my head and I’d appreciate it if people actually realised that.

*sigh*

I need to start eating sensibly, clean my room (seriously, it’s a crap-heap) dress properly, do my hair and make-up and then maybe I’ll start caring about my life again… if I don’t then it might be time to think about the pills.

I really don’t know any more.

’til next time,

Wren x

The Clothes Maketh the Man (or Lady)

This is something that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about lately- it’s kind of an example of a bigger topic that’s quite important to me, but I’ll ramble on about that some other time.

On New Years Eve I went to a party at my friend’s house, I wore a lovely, floaty, peach coloured dress. I’d bought the dress over a year before and only worn it once, I loved it and had been looking for an excuse to wear it again.

I spent the whole evening wishing I’d worn something different- not because it didn’t fit the dress code, or because it didn’t fit me any more- but because it wasn’t me.

I felt awful and out of place and I just wanted to take it off and stand there in my underwear, I felt really false and unlike me- it was horrible. I think it was mostly the colour that put me off, it was too wishy-washy (spell check’s loving me…) and pale, I didn’t stand out at all.

It’s kind of hard for you to understand why I’m so disconcerted about this when you don’t see me and the way that I dress every day. Those of you who follow this blog may have heard me mention that I’ve been phasing the 1940s into my wardrobe, so basically the thing you’ve got to understand is that I’m used to bold, solid colours and standing out- there have only been two occasions this year when I haven’t worn bright red lipstick to school, and they were pretty serious.

 

see- told you I have a thing for the good 'ole red lippy...

see- told you I have a thing for the good ‘ole red lippy…

 

So, the lesson that I came away from the New Years debacle having learned is that how I look massively effects how I feel… and that I really don’t suit peach.

’til next time,

Wren x

 

Pagan Blog Project: Celtic

First of all, I have been in bed with the flu for the last two weeks 😦 hence my absence- thankfully I’ve managed to shake it off now and am powering through about two years worth of catch up work… *sigh*

Upon seeing the letter I don’t think I could really write about anything else- I would (and do) describe myself as a ‘Celtic Pagan’ or ‘Druid’ and my interest in the Celts goes far beyond their religion.

I first became interested in them way back before I even knew that religions other than Christianity existed. I would have been about six and learning basic British history in school. I always felt sorry for the Celts, I thought that it was unfair that they got wiped out and their culture destroyed when it seemed to be so much more interesting than the Roman’s boring square houses and regimented army.

As I got older I started to explore and learn more about the Celts, I’ve always devoured anything and everything about them that I could get my hands on- for me their culture and Gods have always felt like home, and finally realising that gave me an incredible sense of peace.

I wouldn’t call myself an expert by any means, but I am an enthusiastic student- I’ve tried to put together my rituals and habits from history and from contemporary Druidic teachings to create something that I’m happy with and feel comfortable practising, but my practises are always changing and growing and I’m comfortable with that.

At the end of the day I think that the Celts are a fascinating group of people who should not be consigned to the history books- they had some truly incredible customs and a fierce passion for their Gods that I see as nothing other than an inspiration.

Blessed be,

Wren x