Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Mother's Little Helper

http://twilightvamp.glogster.com/mothers-little-helper/


Just when the Cymbalta was finally long gone from my system and I thought I was getting by okay... BAM... I have a meltdown. And so begins another battle in my on and off again antidepressants aghast.

I take the happy pills and the little things don't bother me. People don't irritate me nearly as bad. I put more words on the page. But I don't feel. I'm numb. I can't have an orgasm. I can't relate to my characters. It severely deters my channeling abilities.

I don't take the antidepressants and I get sluggish and tired. I have crying fits and crazy thoughts. I might not have as high of word counts, but the words I'm writing are better. My characters talk to me. My spirit guides scream at me. I'm able to channel and communicate with those who have passed.

There are times when Odessa's beloved whispers in my ear that I need to take the meds. That Odessa needed her meds. Look at what happened to her when she didn't take them.

Odessa screams back a big fat fuck you!

When we are in sync, Odessa wraps me in the orange protective light. She sits at my office door playing with her snakes. She doesn't let anyone "fuck with her human". That is, when I remember to take a deep breath. Calm down and let her do her shit.

She assures me she's not going anywhere. We've still got her stories to tell. Goddess knows, I still need her watching my back, front and every other angle. She's trying to make things right from her previous existence. I understand this. She understands me.

Not having Odessa in my life scares the crap out of me. I need her as much as she needs me to tell her story. To right the wrongs. To tell expose the truth of her beloved's death. He didn't kill himself. I know this. Odessa knows this. The whole world is going to know this.

I like talking to my ghostly friends. I don't get any negative spirits because Odessa mans the gateway with an ironclad fist. No one escapes her wrath. No one comes through that she doesn't want to speak with me.

So in order to keep this gift I guess I'll just have to learn to deal with the occasional crying jag. I'll take more naps. I'll be more careful about downing the vitamin D3s and Bs on schedule and drinking enough water. I'll accept that some days I just have to give into the darkness and wallow in misery.

I won't give her up.


No way! No how!

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