So, yesterday morning’s Social Justice Warrior crap hit me in a prodromal migraine period, which means that I stewed on it all day as I threw together that epic rant. I posted it after the migraine had subsided enough for me to proofread enough for some degree of coherency, figured it was okay and toddled off to bed. What could go wrong?
I need to stop thinking that. The universe and creation seem to take it is as a challenge to my psyche. I’m postdromal today which makes me a little more emotional than I care for, but, my husband thinks this circumstance is completely warranted. Allow me to share.
I went to the end of the driveway to get my mail today after work -since I am blessed to work from home, started digging through the unusually large stack of mail and spotted a familiar mint-green envelope that I really should not be receiving anymore. Actually, I should have stopped receiving this damn envelope after a certain meeting happened near the end of 2012 when I had enough and formally stepped down from the role of President of the organization I had founded, financed (almost entirely on my own), put a good 75% of the work into on my own and ran.
I was burned out, I was bitter and cynical. Everyone in the pagan community had an opinion. Everyone wanted something that I couldn’t offer them for an endless number of reasons: I didn’t have the money to put it together, the resources, the training, the knowledge… But, that meant I wasn’t suiting their immediate needs. No one wanted to step up and help. I was their paragon of pagandom. By stepping up at 22 years old (at the time this venture was put together) and filling a void in the community, I had somehow become a magical wish-dispensing machine for the pagans in the entire portion of my state upon which to make demands.
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