So, I wanted to blog about the great time I had at the Garth solstice ritual. Except that given that I have heard some people’s reaction to the event which wasn’t so positive it doesn’t seem fair that I had a great time somehow.
I failed my mock driving test by the way. On the otherhand it seems that I visualised my safe space so often during the mock test by way of relaxing that everytime I’ve got into the driving seat since I’ve found myself sat there… this actually may be improving my driving but this is yet to be a scientifically valid statement.
So let me stick to my facts for Wednesday.
Manly Viking came up on the train and he, Sweetie, my Gentleman Friend and I caught up somewhat over lunch. It got better when we went back to Leg Plates together because we just talked and talked and it was so good to just do that. As is apparent from my entries of late I’m finding appropriate communication difficult at the moment. With Manly Viking it felt like we both just let go, maybe I imagined it, I don’t know. It was just really good.
The Solstice ritual was originally conceived of as a small garth ritual with only oldbies invited. As it turned out Fluzz and El Presidente ended up on the guest list though I often end up thinking of El Presidente as an oldbie anyway. We used our new firepit and the energy seemed really good so I took my clothes off (no really, it is when the energy is flowing right that I get them off) and it seemed like forever ago when the Naiad joined me, I half expected Manly Viking to take his top off too. Everything descended into drunken conversation pretty quickly, sometime after the Alchemist performed the Cornish Cream Tea ritual and before the sumble started, during the blot it seemed like we were drowning in alcohol already.
I remember the ritual itself as being fun, as being about spattering with mead and drinking it and walking around naked carrying a grailful of whiskey for everyone to drink. Now though I go over the memory and I analyse it for the part where things seemed to go downhill for some people. I can’t help but think how nice it was to see the Naiad and the Nymph and laugh with them. How good it was to be held in my Manly Viking’s arms to prove that 10 stone (my current weight) is really nothing. How good it was to be encouraged to tell El Presidente the Cosmopolitan story and then have Cornish Bloke start up on other old stories (though this degenerated somewhat I felt into a ‘who here has given Mish a public orgasm’ competition).
But not everyone there had my amazing solstice experience at the little relaxed garth gathering. I wish they had.
There is something else I’ve been working up to say. I wonder if I’m putting it at the end of this entry in the hopes that not everyone will read it. I suspect I am.
The two people who matter most already know this. I’m writing it up here because I think if you all know then it will encourage me to stop. I don’t want to talk about this, I don’t want an ‘oh poor little Mish’ reaction. I find it hard enough to talk about me doing this in the past never mind the present.
On a technicality, and only on a technicality I’ve started self-harming again. It really doesn’t deserve that title since it really is nothing serious (no skin broken or anything and are you really telling me that three times in the last few months counts?!). I’m giving it that title because last time this happened I ended up really doing it with this as a starting point.
The funny thing is that I’m really not sad. Honestly. I don’t feel melancholy at all. I’m not grey either, theres no rhyme or reason for it this time.
If you really want to talk to me about this then please don’t. Email me and watch me not answer or something. There are eight people I will talk to about this (if they start the conversation) and only six of them are in Lancaster. I’ve written this up in public because it’s going to make me cringe and stop this thing in it’s tracks with any luck.
Anyway, I’m going away for a week. That gives you a week to distract yourselves with something and forget about this. With anyluck I shall be so rested and relaxed after that week I’ll be back to my old self (the one I’ve been for the last six or so years rather than the one before that who left scars). Gotta love the melodrama inherent in the Mish to end on that note huh?