Glass Slippers, Rainbows and Unicorns.

About 4 days ago, several hours after Nathan’s 10th passing-out episode, my adrenals crashed. Just like post birth, I’ve struggled to have enough energy to function and stay sane. Except I don’t get 6 weeks off this time to work on correcting and healing. Extra meds have taken the edge off, but I still feel like there’s not enough sleep to be had. Every spare moment I doze off like my mom’s cat-naps.

When I’m awake I keep my mind as busy as possible to stay in motion. The topic on my mind is the fairy tales of my youth.

My masculine has no problem manifesting worries, problems, things to solve or fix, and more work to be had. None. Pretty much every negative possible, comes far too easily, and even the neutral moments are plentiful.

Yet my childhood was full of fairy tales where the strife ended in happily ever after, and many of the stories had happy moments in them.

Cinderella got her prince. Snow White was taken care of by a herd of dwarves, and a different prince healed her from her ill fated sleep incurred by eating a toxic apple, all with one kiss. Jasmine had her Aladdin and genie who helped her travel the world. There were magical frogs, and leprechauns with pots of gold who helped people escape the Banshee. Unicorns with magic bringing people together, and never ending tales with soft furry flying pets. All of the adventures, and no one got hurt in a permanent way, even SheRa and HeMan saved their worlds without any of the good guys being killed.

Now Netflix has their “Tales Dark and Grimm” and each segment ended on a happy note with the end of the series being happily ever after. Though there was a little injury in that series. Perhaps the makers of that one saw the fallacy of prior too-perfect tales.

Anyway, I keep wondering why my life has been inundated with these fairy tales and Hallmark love stories, but I only seem to get the strife manifestations.

I’m choosing to focus on bullet points intended to right this imbalance.

Where’s my glass slipper and magical carriage?

Where’s my healing kiss and herd of helpers?

Where’s my genie in a bottle and flying carpet?

Where’s my Appa or Falkor, unicorn, fairy or leprechaun?

I have all the bills, where’s my pot of gold to pay them?

Where’s my castle to live happily ever after?

Where are my tales of travels abroad and fantastical journies through enchanted forests?

I texted Nathan when he was still in the hospital: “I don’t need more work, I need money to fall from the sky. I don’t need more bills, I need the pot of gold to pay for the ones I’ve got. I don’t need more places to be, unless they are beaches and forests full of nothing but enjoyment. I don’t need anyone else to take care of, I need to be taken care of. I don’t need any more problems to solve, I need my list of problems solved for me. I don’t need anything else to fix, I need the broken I already have to be fixed. I don’t need any more kids or family, because none of them solve or fix anything, and the smear of good has run out having been trampled by more sick and down.”

I’m reaching for understanding. Why I have clung to words, tales, and shows filled with love and happy endings- for decades of my life, but received the never ending tale of woes?

I don’t have an answer, but I’m feeling like I’m a couple decades overdue for those parts to manifest.

All the tales of my youth had the pattern of drama, good moment, drama, good part, drama, happy ending. Though all the stories made the happy-ending portion of the tale the shortest description, it was always a description based on the rest of their lives, and the characters were always young enough you knew that was a long time.

Perhaps that was the error. The happy ending description should have been longer and had more variations to explore. I don’t know, just a guess. There has to be some explanation why I am only getting the shitty side of the tales. There simply has to be. Life isn’t supposed to suck this bad, and I’m doing everything right. Everything. Everything humanly possible.

So where the fuck are my good parts? Especially considering I’m doing God’s work as much as possible. I’m helping others daily, and passing messages that aren’t mine. Yet I’m still getting the dregs.

Just feeling like I’m holding the short straw and by no fault of mine, but God isn’t making things right, and many days of late feel like he’s making it worse.

Makes me not want to give 2 shits what God wants me to do. Maybe God can keep his damned messages and work to himself for once and leave me with at least just the neutral moments.

Hrumph.

At least Nathan is back home. They got his electrolytes balanced enough they felt safe letting him return home with instructions to continue consuming Pedialyte or something similar for a couple of days. He hasn’t been passed out since Saturday evening, and the hospital balanced him enough that even the panic attacks stopped.

May you have fairy tale endings and happy moments plenty. May you enjoy your days more than not. May your stress levels be manageable and your body cooperate when they peak. May you find speedy healing in all matters, but especially when stress was far from out of your control. Above all may you know that the divine loves and supports you in all that you do.

Om Shanti

About Treasa Cailleach

I'm a massage therapist working with chiropractic and the elderly; musician, artist, pagan, mom, B of LGBTQ, & polyamorous professional.

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