What Will We Do When We’re Sober?

Hello, friends!

I chose this line from “Sober” by Lorde as the title because this song meant the world to me during a time that I used to look on with shame and something closer to disgust. But like with many things in my life, I find that my perspective on it has changed. In hindsight, I believe now that I was trying to thrive.

The period I am referring to is the time I spent at Idaho school. I may not have been perfect. I may have gone off my meds for some time. But I think that the anger I felt and the questions I started to ask were valid.

Let me begin by saying that if you think you’re loving someone by only supporting them with money and not listening to the other things they say or being there for them when they need help with something that you think isn’t real or valid to talk about, you aren’t loving them properly. With that being said, let’s go on.

In Idaho school, I started to strike out on my own. I would stay up all night at times and skip doses of my meds, which would throw my moods off, but I began to understand things more. And in the process, I got very angry at my mother because I felt she was only throwing money at me instead of listening to me and supporting me in ways I needed more help with. And since she was throwing money at me, she felt I had no right to be angry at her. She wouldn’t let me be about her thoughts on my “mental illness”, and chocked my “derailing” up to that. When I tried to express my anger or my emotions, they were shut down.

As such, I began to associate that time with shame and something close to disgust. After everything that has transpired these last few months, I have come to realize that my anger was and is likely justified. Giving some money does not equal love for them, no matter how many times someone claims it is.

I made a few bad decisions, that’s true. But I wish she had listened to me. I know I lost my dad, who was my favorite person. That may have messed me up and derailed me temporarily, but that didn’t give her the right or privilege to dismiss my feelings as not real or inconvenient, even if she didn’t understand them. I wish she would have made an effort to understand.

Where to now?

I have been trying to forgive her, but it hurts like hell. I’m not sure how to forgive her yet, but I think it’s a journey and I’m supposed to trust the process. I can’t expect her to understand right now, nor can I barge up to her or tell her off. If she ever reads this, I hope she won’t get angry and will instead try to listen. Please.

It’s strange how my outlook on life has changed and how some things turn negative when they once were positive. I read once or twice that there’s opposition in all things. Everything has a light and dark side and nothing is purely good or evil, and sometimes perspectives change. Mine definitely has.

I will leave you with this –

If you’re in a situation where you’re struggling, don’t hesitate to drop me an email at magoadportas@gmail.com. I look forward to hearing from you.

Love,

Mago

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The Universe I’m Helpless In

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Hello, all! This song is in my ears as I write this post. I love this song and it fits the vibe I’m going for perfectly. It’s called “Venus” and it’s by Sleeping At Last. One of the commenters on this video put it perfectly:

Everyone else [is] talking about how they want somebody to sing this song to them, but I want to find the person who I will want to sing this to.

CuriousAuthor, Youtube

I discovered it after having a dream about a prince.

This dream took place in October of 2017, nearly a year to the day before I married my husband. In this dream, I was a noblewoman trapped in my room at the hands of my evil guardian. I was given an assistant, an imp named Rose Red, for company, and she was important.

There was a prince who was determined to court me, and I cruelly rebuffed him every time he climbed up to my window. Finally, Rose Red grew fed up with my stubbornness and insisted that I gave him a chance. I caved in and listened, and we fell in love.

I woke the following day to find that I couldn’t shake the dream from my mind, and I thought about it all day. I went to an Al-Anon meeting (more about Al-Anon here) and sat in the car in my yard after it, pondering the dream deeply.

My thoughts were answered in a profound way. A thought that didn’t come from me whispered, “He is out there. Keep working on yourself and he will find you.” It hit me like a tidal wave. I became deeply involved in my spirituality for a time, and that was when I discovered “Venus”, which struck me as a thing my prince would sing to me. In November, my prince appeared. I didn’t know it yet, but come December, I received a follow up impression as I was juggling five crushes at once, confused as hell, referring to them all as Players 1-5. “THE FINAL PLAYER HAS ENTERED THE GAME,” the impression said in a very caps-lock-esque tone. It was like I had placed a phone call and someone picked up on the other line or activated a glow stick. I knew then that the prince was close. It turned out to be my husband. He swept me off my feet, and we were married the following October.

It’s strange how the universe brings me what I need exactly when I need it. It’s a testament to how deeply I am loved. I also find that loving my husband is like the commenter said, not being sung to, but trying to sing to my beloved. And the best songs are when we sing together.

It’s stranger how I knew he was coming, in way. This is an important detail because I was deeply connected at that time and listened. It takes a hefty dose of caffeine to get that much in tune, and I’m fairly certain I had at least 2 shots of espresso and a cold brew AND an Earl Grey lemonade in me at that point. I was vibrating and about to teleport, basically. The caffeine is important to me because it gets my mind tuned to the right frequency, so to speak. I’m thankful for that.

A question remains – how do I remain in tune?

I know part of it is having faith in myself and faith that I am not given more than I can handle (more about that in this post). I find that worry, anger, and fear cloud my spiritual senses. As Frank Herbert wrote in Dune, fear is the mind killer. I think that’s important. I was talking to my friend about starting projects and she asked if I knew why I was hesitant about my projects. We arrived at the same conclusion – I am afraid to start. What would I do if I weren’t afraid of failure? I know I would make a lot of messes, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t be afraid of cleaning them up. I would not lack fear, I would cope with it and manage it, asking it what it needed. I would trust in God and the universe more. I would trust people who matter more. I would not fear making mistakes or failure as much as I do. Failure isn’t a permanent defeat. This thought has kept me going since I thought it; I don’t dwell on death anymore. I don’t fear life anymore and I actually enjoy living nowadays even though it hurts sometimes. I would not shy away from my own worthiness and good destiny. I must remember that I am helpless in the universe in the best way and I trust it.

We are given only what we can handle because God and the universe love us with an infinite love. We are given what we can handle to stimulate us and help us grow, but they don’t leave us stranded. We are also given what we need in the time we need it! I’ve said this before, but my husband is an example of this and so is my lizard baby, Chadwick. We are given a seat at the universe’s table.

I have been doing a lot of reading about affirmations and intentions, so I will leave you with both an affirmation and an intention.

Affirmation: I am a being of great spiritual power. I am capable of doing great things.

Intention: Opportunities to do good are heading my way. The universe is kind and sending me what I need. What I seek is also seeking me.

Love,

MJ

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The Great Constant


Hello!

Today is a new day, even though it is a bit young for me. I woke up at 12:30 PM and am kind of regretting my life decisions. So I have camped out in a super hip coffee shop and am just enjoying life for now.

There’s something I don’t think about often but am thinking about now. I don’t usually like getting out of bed nowadays unless there’s something that’s making me leap out of bed at 6 AM. That’s usually a lesson, to be honest. I like getting up at 6 AM, but there’s not been much getting me awake and alive. I am quick to blame that on my surroundings and lack of events in my life, but I honestly am not feeling super motivated internally and that is why it’s harder to get up and move, I think.

I’m not feeling depressed, is the weird thing. I am perfectly happy when I get up, I just feel unmotivated, like there’s not much to look forward to in that moment. In other words, I think that my reason why I’m doing things, why I am living and not just surviving, why I am happy, even, isn’t big enough. I have big dreams, but I don’t honestly believe in myself enough for them to motivate me. It’s not that they’re small, it’s my lack of faith in myself.

It’s funny that I feel this way, especially after I have discovered that I have a seat at the universe’s table and have a voice. I should be living this discovery, right? How can I use my voice? How could I possibly be bored with my life?

I find during these “boring” days that I overlook the little things that make me happy and make waking up worthwhile. One of my favorite little things is when my roommate leaves fresh coffee grounds in the coffee machine to be made in the morning. It saves me a step and I am always thankful for it.

I’ve got coffee in hand and I’m thankful for that, too. I used to make long lists of what I was thankful for in a day, and that got me through the final stages of my husband’s and my long-distance phase. I nearly filled up a journal with these thoughts. I keep thinking that I should do them again, but never get around to it. I make note of the bigger little things, but I need to actually write them down and properly thank God and the universe for these little gifts.

I was reading a book called Captivating, which is a Christian book. One of the chapters spoke about God-as-lover and elaborated more on how God shows people love in small (and big) things, like a gorgeous sunset, or for me, the entire state of Alaska. I see God a lot in nature and in the people I meet. I definitely need to do better at recognizing that facet of God.

It’s interesting to me that I generally learn about God and the universe one little bit at a time in the times when I need that facet. I didn’t believe in a God who could personally love me until I started thinking a lot about the process and practice of gratitude. When I started to take note of these things, my perspective shifted. YES, I was loved! Yes, I was protected! It made so much sense.

One of the things I struggle with in my journey with God and universe is that some things need to be taken on faith and that I don’t have to understand everything. I think of my journey with happiness, for example – a lot of the time I am happy and I don’t know why. I don’t always need a reason to have happiness as my default state. It just is sometimes, and that is that. I am a child of God, I am a child of the universe, their love is constant and a given. I am carried on their shoulders. So are you.

“Meg! What does it mean to be carried on the shoulders of God and the universe?” you might be asking.

Well, it means different things to different people. For me, it’s kind of like standing on the shoulders of giants, you can see more than an ordinary being. But it also bears a connotation of a child being carried on a parent’s shoulders. I am supported and seen, is what it means to me. I am loved.

Knowing I am loved is a powerful thing. Knowing that God and the universe watch over me and guide my path as I listen is a wonderful feeling. They are everywhere. I miss my dad, but he is always watching, too, but in a different way than he could when he was here in this plane. I don’t entirely know what the purpose was in him dying, but I know he was needed elsewhere. Some have said that he gave my husband the nudge he needed to talk to me again so that our journey could begin. That would make a lot of sense seeing how similar they are. I know my dad loves me. I know my husband loves me. I know that my husband came back into my life at the exact right time. God and the universe, in their infinite wisdom, knew what to do. I will always be mistaken in thinking that my life is boring.

I am needed and I am in need. It’s strange to think that we are never truly static, there is always something changing, constantly putting us in need of help or in a position to help others. We receive gifts and are gifts to others.

I have said it before and will say it again, we are given what we need in the times that we need it. We are loved spiritually, that is the great constant. Nothing we can say or do will change that, it was so from the beginning and will always be. It doesn’t matter who you are, you are given an equal chance and a seat at the table. Be seated! The meal is coming.

Love,

Meg

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A Seat At the Table

I don’t know if I have exhausted the topic of happiness. I was doing some reading on writer’s block and the author thought it came down to fear – being afraid to write something and pushing through the fear, breaking it down.

I know I’m afraid of a few things. But in that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a dream I had last night.

In this dream, I knew myself and knew how much I was worth as a human being. It was simple and profound as I saw all of the roads that opened up to me because of it. I was worth more than to just be a memory. I was worthy to be given a chance, to be heard, to be cherished and loved. In that dream, I didn’t see myself as a burden. I didn’t see myself as unlovable, I didn’t see myself as unworthy of…anything. I had a shot equal to anyone else to get what I wanted. I was not guaranteed what I desired, but the universe dealt me a fair hand. I was not worth more than other human beings, but I was not worth less. I was given a seat at the table, and I made my voice heard.

I had power. I wrote a few lines this morning:


I still do have this power. I am not made less because of how I see myself. I have an equal opportunity to receive happiness. It was an incredibly enlightening dream.

Fear holds me back a lot. All of this got started because I don’t often believe I have a chance to win any contests or be heard by anyone with a large social reach. I don’t quite see myself as likely or able to get that chance. Then something clicked
in my brain and I had the thought of, and pardon my French, “fuck it, I have a chance, as good as anyone’s. Let’s do it” as I was contemplating writing to someone about my music. So I did it, then had that dream.

I have heard a phrase over and over again that’s just now getting stuck in my head –

“What you seek is also seeking you.”
I’m not sure who said that, but I know it is real based off of what I have been seeing in my life as of late. I know nothing can come from nothing, so there must be something good about what I’m doing and I should honor that.


I wrote this a few nights ago as I was falling asleep. We are made of starstuff, as I believe Carl Sagan put it.  I believe it.

So it seems that the spot at the table is still open. It is up to me – and to you – to take it.

And to the person wondering what they are worth –

You, too are offered a seat at the table. Your worth is infinite. You have a voice. You have a heart that is special and your desires are valid. Speak up. You are loved. I want to hear what you have to say. Who knows who else you can touch with your words and your actions! You are also a star.

And to you, dear star, I say – shine.


Love,

Meg

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Home is here

Hello again!

Welcome to the madhouse, part ten billion. (More like 80, but who’s counting? I have legitimately lost count myself.) I am your resident meanderer. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Meg and this is the home of my various projects. One of these projects is myself.

I am weird. I’m very weird and very proud of it most of the time. If I had to pick one word to describe myself, it would be “eccentric”. That word alone encompasses my entire being. It took a very long time to own my weirdness. I’m fat, agender, and clumsy. I’m abnormally obsessed with history, and will talk your ear off if you get me into the chatty mood. I will write an album in three weeks if you give me enough Mountain Dew. I am an unorthodox Christian.I apologize for feeling like I’m too much. And I am too much for some.

Something I’ve learned over time is that I will never be too much for those who fit me. My husband fits me. I annoy the hell out of him sometimes, but he loves me with something close to unconditional love, and I don’t understand it at all sometimes. He knows I’m odd and accepts it. He has shown me that it’s not okay to beat myself up for matters such as this, and does another thing I don’t understand – tells me I’m not crazy. Being diagnosed with bipolar disorder is something I’m not proud of at all, but he refuses to let me eat myself alive over it. He won’t let me apologize for being myself and makes sure that I know that I’m safe. He shows me what home is.

I also find myself at home with my friends. I love them. Some of them, like my best friend, have been with me for years. Others have been around for a shorter amount of time, but I feel the same about them.

Alaska itself feels like home with its majestic mountains and beautiful scenery. I was born and raised in Texas, so you might think I should miss it more. But home is not necessarily the place you grew up in. I’ve found that home is where you feel comfortable being yourself.

People around me have shown me this. Family doesn’t necessarily mean the people you are related to by blood, and home is not always where you live. It can be one person or even a group of people. You and I will never be too much for the people that fit us. We deserve to be treated with love and kindness. I hope you find your home here, too. That is the message I want to share, both with what I make and what I do in my everyday life. Love will always win, home is here.

Love,

Meg

Stronger

Sometimes I find it hard to write when I’m away from my writing spot, and I sure am feeling the resistance today.

I’m sitting in my car in Anchorage and the sun hasn’t risen yet. It’s around 7:30 and will likely be around 8:30 by the time I finish this post. I’ve got at least two shots of espresso in me and still all I want to do is sleep. I would sleep soundly.

I think I am afraid to write outside of my usual spot in the basement because I now have bad associations with writing in the car. The last time I wrote in the car was when I wrote the the post about “Rebel Rebel” by David Bowie in the parking lot at my old work. Here I am in a parking lot once again, it’s Valentine’s Day, I’m waiting for a friend to call, and I feel hollow.

I’m not yet hollow enough to cry, but I’m getting there. I think parking lots before sunrise are some of the loneliest places I can imagine.

The sky is turning dark blue, the world keeps turning somehow. I want to stop being so scared and be stronger, but my heart is still breaking from yesterday even though I don’t quite remember why my heart was breaking in the first place. I keep telling myself that I should be stronger than I am and beating the shit out of myself when I fall short of my own unrealistic expectations.

I want to leave Anchorage and go back home to the valley where I live, but that’s a long drive and I am not in a headspace where that’s safe. I don’t know how to calm down. I feel a great desire to be stronger than I am, as I have said before.

I beat myself up almost daily for quitting my old job. I feel I should have been able to handle it and I shame myself for not being able to.

I beat myself up for not being able to accomplish simple tasks that take 10-15 minutes for a healthy person to finish. I want to do things, it just hurts in my brain to even make myself move.

I beat myself up for being sad.

I beat myself up for still having waves of debilitating grief over my dad.

I beat myself up for oversleeping or sleeping too little.

I beat myself up for little things that I would give my best friend care and compassion for.

If she or my husband were hurting like this, I would do everything in my power to hear them out and encourage them to take it easy one day at a time. I would encourage them to talk it out with me and tell them to do only what they can and then help when I am needed or wanted. I would make sure that I hear them and make sure they didn’t think they were alone. I would be by their side.

It’s important to me that they are open with what’s going on because sometimes I can’t read them. My best friend is physically far away and sometimes my husband manifests pain differently than I do. So in the same way I want them to tell me what’s going on and keep me informed, perhaps I should listen to what my brain and body need. I need to rest, I know that for certain. I need to be easier on myself. Most of the people around me don’t expect of me what I expect of myself.

I was speaking with a friend of mine who understands what I’m going through. She gave me words of encouragement and said essentially that I’m okay to be where I’m at. I lost my dad three years ago, which is relatively recent. She understands the feeling of it being difficult to accomplish things that are simple to most. She understands me, and that is so important. She makes me feel heard.

So maybe I am strong even though I struggle. I would most certainly think a friend would be were they in the same situation. So why not me?.

Until next post,

Meg

PS. Happy Valentine’s Day. Treat yourself.

Looking back

“I am soft on the ground and rare as Vegas rain”, I once sang. “I wish I had a home like I wish I had a self.” The third song off of Mago, “Vegas Rain”,  is arguably the song that expresses the most confusion on the entire album.

Gentle readers, I’m not here to praise the past, but to set it to rest, and there is something surreal about picking my past apart in a pubic forum in order to link it to happy-ending hopes for the future. It’s not a bad thing. It forces me to put my thoughts into perspective, which is incredibly valuable for both my progress and myself as a human. So we will do just that with that line from “Vegas Rain”.

It’s definitely a piece where I can look back and see how far I’ve come. When I wrote it, I felt completely lost with nothing to cling to. It felt like every “persona” I had adopted was fake, as I would later explain in the verses. I felt that same lost feeling in different forms until I reached two turning points, meeting my husband and starting this blog. Even though I only started blogging a month ago, it’s done more for me than most things ever have.

I had been talking with my then-future husband for about a month when the topic of conversation turned to other halves. I scoffed at the idea, saying that a mate or another person should never have to complete me. In reality, though, I was afraid. I didn’t want another person to leave. I was not secure in my own skin, and I knew my own ways a little too well. I was always afraid of smothering him or driving him away. I wanted an other half, I wanted an other half desperately – yes, desperately. But I knew in one way or another that I’d have to become better acquainted with myself for this to work, that my self esteem could not be permanently tied to the attentions of someone else.

My lack of self -knowledge and self-love had led me into some horrible situations by that point, and I viewed myself as utterly broken. The thing about this man, though, is that he showed me by his actions and words that he didn’t mind that I was a work in progress. There was no need for anything but me.

I was so scared because of my past that I only loved him because he gave me attention, but our bond proved me wrong. He was my other half, even though I was broken, and he was allowing and encouraging me to be myself and was willing to help me when I got lost. I loved – and still do love – him for his sharp intelligence, the way he operates, the way he thinks, and the way he loves. He is home in a human. I now need to find myself.

I’ve been writing here for 26 days now, thank you, handy WordPress counter, and it has been helping me do just that. I’ve always found writing to be an incredibly useful tool for introspection, but this is working better than any journal I’ve ever kept. Here, I’ve learned that I can’t kill my bipolar disorder, that I am heard, that I can give myself permissions, and other things.

While I would love to go back to instruct past me about these things, I know that they wouldn’t take my advice, because, well, it’s me…

Until next post!

Meg