A Witch's Cauldron

I don't always break out the ROYGBIV this early in June (and sometimes not at all, depending on how distasteful and hypocritical I find that year's corporate rainbow-washing). But I guess one doesn’t assemble an army of brightly coloured Baphomets without some purpose or intent.

Saturday was a good day, out of nowhere. But it devoured my limited energy.

Sunday? Nothing left. Drained. Wobbled my way through the hours.

(The blue moon, btw, has been firing manic effusive dreams into my skull. Sleep is a tangled nest of places and things and people dripping Significance without context or even meaning. Not helpful.)

Today?

A migraine, one significantly NOT triggered by weather. I would happily vanish from human sight forever. Whatever this non-mood is, it’s clingy and persistent.

Makes me so glad that this is the week that's packed with several solid days of busy social interactions, that also require me to actually Get The Housework Done Properly. I'm never more fun than when I’d happily crawl into a hole and die, after all, bursting with all the lack of vitality that entails.

I was there, but I wasn’t there. Just passing through, diffuse, seeing but unseen. Twilight grew, violet stealing into the fading gold… and then there were fireflies. Magical things, little streaks of light zipping around the canola plants. I stood and watched the shadows of my brothers following those darting streaks through the field until everything faded into night.

The meatsuit is still unfun to pilot much of the time. Too much pain, too much anxiety, not enough physical energy. I'd just like it to let me do my housework in a timely manner, before executive dysfunction kicks in. It’d be great if I gave me some space to paint or bead, too, but I’m really in the weeds with basic household maintenance.

What's left of my tree is absolutely crowned and skirted in green shoots. It's full of gleeful spite, and still reaching for the sun. I have things to decorate the yard, too, but I haven’t made it into the back yet this year. I know things need a good tidy there, too.

My new ritual clothes consist of a lovely shirt and pant combo, and a vest overtop. There are pockets, and it makes my enby self feel seen. I like having the option when I'm having issues with skirts and dresses. (A lot of my robes are just dresses.) I’m already thinking about getting a tunic as well, to have another option. I tend to dress more masc in the winter, and more femme in the summer, but that's mostly a pragmatic choice. Summer is too damn hot so loose clothes that have air flow are better. I do hope I can feel ok wearing a skirt or dress sometime this summer, since I have some nice new ones that deserve to be worn.

It was one of those Beltanes where it snowed. I'm not sure how far we managed to bring the Summer in - yesterday was gorgeous but we've been having a cold wet Spring so far. I shouldn’t complain. I’d like to delay getting the AC working as long as possible, and I am also not too eager to get out there and set up the backyard for the season. Spring is a lot farther along in other places than here, but we thought we'd have snow piles until June with the way this winter went. I feel like we’re doing well just having some grass going. Heh.

This summer's animal spirit is the turkey vulture, which is something totally different for me. Less time looking at the little things underfoot, more looking at the bigger picture above me. The change in perspective might do me some good. (Also, maybe I find some nice bones this summer. I will be keeping an eye out.)

I am going to be trying to let myself work on things like beading and painting more, without letting all the things I think I “should” be doing eat me alive. I don't want the house to fall apart, but I need to stop giving housework more weight than the things I enjoy that also need doing. There’s a balance I'm trying to find between the two that I don't think I’ve found yet. I just want a little more enjoyment in my days, without the anxiety that often travels with it.

Beltane, late April 2026

Been laying pretty low thanks to that. Doing what I can around the margins. I am tired of just being a collection of chronic health issues inside one skin. Trying very hard not to be restless.

New glasses soon. My first pair of progressives. (I'm sure my joy is palpable, but fuck it I want to be able to read things.) My prescription starts with a 7 on both sides now, so let me tell you the price per lens would make you weep. But again - reading things without strain good.

Beltane's creeping up. I am forcing myself to get my painting done, because I have a hard deadline now and I seem to need that to work against. It wouldn't feel so impossible to get through if I didn't keep printing out new shiny things that need paint. I mean, most of it is a couple coats of dry brushing, but it adds up. But I will get through my self-imposed work.

I want to enjoy Beltane, but dear Gods this toe is testing my temper. It's less than fun to manage wounded feet when I know I'm going to be on them far more than usual. I also have to find the energy to bake some stuff for that weekend, which is always iffy these days.

I always get sick in March. Usually my meat suit's unique properties welds together a couple different bugs into sheer maleficence, and this March was no exception. I threw up for four days straight, having created my own perfect storm out of a head cold, the flu, a bad gastroparesis flare already in progress, and some bloody awful weather migraine spikes. By the end of day two I genuinely prayed for death. I couldn’t sleep for more than three hours at a time, and the migraine drove a kind of pain loop that I couldn’t break because I couldn’t keep anything down long enough for meds to work. I started really improving after 5 days, once I managed to get some meds to stay in and got some decent sleep.

The lingering fuckery is that I have zero sense of smell and little sense of taste currently. I can taste sweet, salt, acidity, the edges of butter, and chemical heat, but only occasionally do I get ghostly whispers of things like my fruit juice. There's no actual flavours, which tells me my tastebuds are probably mostly ok but my sense of smell is completely bollocked. Let me tell you, texture alone does not stimulate the appetite. Food has next to no appeal.

It's not all medical doom, though. I am pleasantly surprised that I have managed to heal up the toe that blistered on my own. It's got some gnarly thick skin, but everything dried up without ulcerating. It's good, after having been full of dread over it. It was pretty ugly for a while, and it’s hard not to get freaked out with foot problems. I may end up being able to swim this summer after all.

This is a much beloved coven sister who means the world to me. This is her 4th bout of cancer, and I hate that I am far away across a border her government has made perilous for me to cross. I hate that life there is so precarious. I really wish I could do more.

Bríd has (somewhat reluctantly) emerged, on the basis that the lake is thawing and the snowbanks are slowly shrinking. I poured her some rhubarb liqueur, and lit a ton of candles so we're at least pretending it's warmer and brighter. I know we're closer to the green season now than before. It was -27 Celcius at Imbolc. While we're still not always above freezing yet, Bríd agrees that this is good enough.

Not too much else going on. Hoping to throw some paint at some miniatures this weekend, get a bunch of those closer to finished. I still need to teach J how to paint a jeweled windscreen on his mechs. I'm not sure how great a teacher I am, but he does get private lessons. Heh.