Z's Grimoire

The primary topic of this new moon update has changed multiple times. Yet in my formal new moon reflections, I found the root of each of the topics was similar, so here is my attempt to summarize the creative chaos of the last few weeks. Posting now before I change it again and need to do another rewrite because I can’t be bothered to write about just one thing at a time.

Ahem.

Without further ado;

CW/TW: General Mental Health, Childhood Trauma, American Healthcare system. Death of animal. Nothing explicit or graphic.

Subtitle: “At least all this trauma made me hilarious”

Bright future

A few decades ago I was a “talented, gifted, exceptionally bright” child with a shining future. While I appreciated that praise, I didn’t feel right. My future didn’t seem bright, I didn’t even see a future. It was impossible to specifically name what it was that didn’t feel right, but I would describe it most similarly to Radiohead’s “Creep”. I didn’t understand what the hell I was doing here, and it felt so strongly like I didn’t belong. Not in my body or in society, just generally, I felt like I was born in the wrong dimension.

When I shared this feeling of not belonging, I was ridiculed for wanting to be like others instead of myself. Being myself, I was bullied and told to fit in. When I further shared some of my fears and concerns associated with these feelings, it was my first introduction to mental health care in America.

“Depression. That’s your problem, you’re depressed. Take these pills and stop being depressed.”

Taken as instructed, the first pills nearly killed me, the second I don’t really recall much of the week I took them. Gracefully, the third provided some relief. Horrified at what I had experienced thus far, still not feeling anymore understood, I stopped complaining. This wasn’t perfect, but it was better than my baseline and better than facing more of the unknown so I thought it would be enough.

Sometime later when the doses could not be increased further but my symptoms were still not improving, anxiety got added to the chart. Another medication to take. A bit better, maybe this would be enough.

Learning to mask the symptoms I couldn’t describe without being misunderstood, knowing that asking for help will result only in becoming a medicated zombie numb to existing. In and out of therapy, that was my reality. Hoping it was enough.

Surviving, but not at all thriving. Shuffling through the motions.

Until a few years ago.

Rainbow’s Tears

A few years ago, I lost my best friend suddenly.

Brock was his name. He was a rescue mutt from Tennessee with an attitude described simply as “Grateful to be alive”.

Hearing his story, seeing his temperament, it was heartbreaking.

One of the members of the rescue network lived in the same neighborhood as him and had noticed he was left chained outside at all hours in all conditions. They could clearly see signs of neglect and often witnessed physical abuse.

One day, he just “happened” to break free from his chain, find his way out of the yard and into his new life. Into my life.

I had a dog only briefly as a child, and that story may be it’s own new moon update, but Brock was the first time where I had a dog.

Grateful to be alive described him perfectly. He had a few trauma triggers we needed to learn to live around (brooms could not move in the same room as him-this one still makes me furious at his former captor), but he was simply one of the most gentle, cheerful pups you could ever meet. The goodest good boy, the sweetest soul. It was truly stunning someone so amazing could come from such a traumatic history.

And just as his life began, it ended in pain, though mercifully not much or long for him. But those of us left on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge were broken.

It was a holiday weekend. Monday morning to be specific. Excited at having an extra day off, going to start the morning routine it was immediately noticeable something was wrong.

He was still happy to see us, but the spark was gone. His movement a little labored. Taking him outside he quickly did his business then returned in with no delay, but was moving okay. Keeping an eye throughout the morning it seemed like maybe he was coming down with a sickness, as he generally seemed fine, just a little off.

Still eating and drinking and not wanting to pay the cost for an emergency vet visit-we resolved to keep an eye on him and call our vet first thing in the morning.

First thing in the morning, he was not doing well at all.

On the carpet, against the couch. He couldn’t move. He wouldn’t move. He was alert, he was happy to see us. But when we couldn’t get him to go outside, or eat breakfast, we prayed the vet could see us.

Well they could. And it should be obviously how the story ended.

Even now thinking back it feels so surreal. Perfect through the weekend, sick on Monday and gone on Tuesday. The pain of this shock is what ended up jolting me off the dark shuffling path I was on.

Processing the grief, dealing with regret, all the lovely experiences that come alongside death. Especially a sudden one in a younger, healthy and vibrant soul. It took me to dark places, but also led me to find light.

“Be the person your dog thinks you are.” That was the phrase I kept telling myself. Brock could see through my pain, he could see through my trauma, and he knew behind this broken facade of a human there was a good soul.

I promised him I’d figure out who I was, and live each day with gratitude just as he had. This was the first step on my journey of self discovery and acceptance. Finding the space where I fit and filling it proudly.

Re-entering therapy, I quickly recognized I needed to find the right therapist for me. Not just “a therapist” I needed my therapist. I am still incredibly grateful I found her, and pray she never retires.

Working through the grief, processing past traumas, so much work was done in our initial work, it eventually lead me to grappling with my gender identity (future new moon update).

Having been open about my thoughts and concerns with her, she offered no suggestions other than to remove labels and see what makes me feel happy. A few months later when I started our session with the declaration that I was a transwoman, she pretty much went “Yup, glad you finally figured it out, so what do you plan to do about it?”

She has always allowed me to do the work to uncover what she’s known. The Shrek layers bit is actually what she referenced. We had to go through the death of Brock, to arrive ready at the layer of related trauma, leading to a layer of unrelated trauma, yet another of repressed childhood trauma, a few more minor layers later, I finally arrived at gender identity. It was incredible to see my depression and anxiety symptoms fade with each new layer!

Could it have been faster? Probably, but prior providers had told me my problems (incorrectly) and we never fostered a good relationship because of that, and I was very clear with her that was a failing point with prior attempts.

It was also incredible to finally understand why I had always felt like I didn’t belong! Gender dysphoria! “ThErE WeRe nO sIgNs”. Hahaha it was so simple!

That is, until I realized, integrating or removing the trans piece of me… Some of that sense of being different lingered. And while I fought to keep my mask on as best I could, asking for help when spoons were available I knew a wave was rushing to shatter the newly established shoreline of my sanity.

That wave made landfall late last year, and I’m still rebuilding, but boy oh boy am I rebuilding something incredible. Because we arrived at another layer, and this time, as much as I hate the song…. I came in like a wrecking ball, not letting anyone else dictate my story another day.

Awkward Zebra

A few months ago I established with a new provider. My therapist and I had spent a few sessions discussing neurodivergence issues, specifically looking at ADHD and Autism, and we both agreed that in this once instance, I needed to look for some labels and start identifying my specific needs.

I started the initial appointment with my new doctor fairly bluntly. Something along the lines of “I know you should never self-diagnosis, but I have ADHD and I’ll be amazed if I’m not somewhere on the spectrum as well. I’ve asked for help for these symptoms for years and have just been over prescribed anti-depressants. My therapist both know something else is going on, and we need to figure it out NOW.”

She listened with compassion and empathy. She gave me a detailed timeline and treatment plan to start helping me figure out and start thriving as a neurodivergent in a neurotypical world.

It was that easy?

Today, having had the time to finally put the pieces together. It is hard for me not to laugh.

The world (or at least my nation) is on fire, I have multiple emergency exit plans prepared as my government has declared my simple existence a threat, the majority of my friends and family have revealed their true colors. I’m seeing things happen on American soil I thought could only happen in HOI4 (No I don’t play anymore).

And yet… I’m thriving.

Even with all of the BS of today, all of the global, national, local and personal stress, now that I finally understand the cards I’m playing with, I feel like I actually have a chance to win a hand, maybe even the game.

That feeling of not belonging was because I kept being told to be like everyone else, now that I am living as me, understanding my strengths and weaknesses, knowing that what works for everyone else isn’t always going to pan out for me.

I’m a zebra, and now that I’ve stopped trying to be a horse, life has gotten so much easier. While I know there are infinitely more layers and barriers I’ll need to break through as I continue this crazy journey called life; I’ve proven to myself I can break them and I’ll be happier and stronger on the other side. No matter the challenge, no matter the time it takes, no matter how many failures.

I ran from the softest layers for decades, but now I’m shattering vault doors with a single kick.

I guess all of that is to say, good stories have a strange way of triggering key events to happen at the right time for the characters.

I am a talented, gifted, exceptionally bright, neurospicy witch with a future worth fighting for, and more than enough power to do so.

It may not be my final form, but this witch is back and better than ever. Bring it on 2025.

Stay Magickal

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P.S. I have a new batch of blessing (finally) I hope to post by the end of this week-I needed to rework my process/thinking/planning to adjust with…. Well everything that has happened in the world and my life since I stopped posting them regularly.

I think I’ve got a more sustainable expectation for myself now, but I’m trying to keep as much of my original process/feel as possible.