My first memories

So I’ve taken you forward, now I want to take you backwards in my life.  I set out to let you know what happened to me during my marriage to Mike, to tell you things I didn’t answer in my “Prodigal Daughter” articles, and forward from the end of those articles until now.  I think I am done talking about that part of my life for a while.  I want to talk about my early life.  I hope you will enjoy it.

I covered my birth, Mom’s surgery, and Beau leaving in Hello Ilsa, Goodbye Beau.  My first memories are not of my Mom but are of Oma.

I was a loved and adored child by all those in my life.  I was welcomed in the same pomp and circumstance that most babies are in this culture. I was a cute and precocious child, ever the entertainer.  I remember jumping on the top of tables to sing and dance.  Putting a straw pot cover for a plant, on my head and dancing about.  Tucking a pair of pliers under my neck and pretending to be the doctor, and was ready to give Oma a shot. 

Angie was my best friend at that time.  She was my cousin, born two months after me.  Many of my pictures at this age include her in them.  Grandpa would later pit us against each other, making us compete against each other.   He would give us a dollar for every A on our report card.  His way of motivating us I guess.   He would say things like, “Well Angie got all A’s this semester and you only got 3.  You need to do better next time.” 

In Kindergarten I was devastated that she would not play with me.  I remember just balling.   Angie, and Sean, who I will talk about in Starting School, were my only friends.  Angie was from a little different socio-economic class then I was.  She was a bit more middle class and I was just working poor.  She gravitate more towards those of her own kind, nothing wrong with that.  She would become a cheerleader and one of the popular kids.  Although we are still family, we are not friends like when we were kids.  She is now a grown woman, a teacher , and has children of her own.  I recently saw her at a family function and was so please that she sat next to me.  We visit with each other on Facebook and share our lives, but I don’t think we will ever be that close again. 

I grew up literally next door to Oma and Grandpa.  They had moved Mom’s trailer next to them after the surgery.  Mom, Dad, Me, Oma and Grandpa all shared about a 5 acre spread in Logansport.  It was big enough for two houses and a large garden.  I have early memories of falling asleep in Oma’s house and waking up in my own bed.  I would start crying, because I didn’t know where I was. I spent lots of time with Oma and Grandpa.  I often wonder if my first language was not German.  I believe Oma spoke it to me a lot as I grew up.  I still understand more then I speak.  Angie and the other cousins visited occasionally, but as far as I know never spent the night.  Knowing what Grandpa did to me, I am very grateful for that.  I hope he never got any other grandchild other then me. 

I have an early memory of Oma taking me from her house to Mom’s house and telling me I was going to start sleeping at my own house.  I was screaming and crying I kept calling Oma my mother.   By the time Oma got me in the house, she had to calm me down and tell me, “I am not your Mother.  I am your Oma.”  Mom says this conversation never took place either, but she could not hear us, as we were in the hall and she was in the kitchen.  My little girl brain did not understand that Oma was not my mother.  I thought that my mother was my big sister.  Sorry but a lot of my early memories of my Mom,  are of her going out and “looking for a new daddy” for me.  I used to go up to strange men and ask them if they wanted to be my Daddy. 

I could read long before I went to kindergarten, by about age 3 or 4 I think.  Oma would read me the books, and then tell me to read them back to her.  I am still big about books and parents reading to their kids.  Grandpa imparted his wisdom on things like the stars, gardening, and his world travels.  He was a Merchant Marine, that’s how he met Oma you know.  He was often at sea, but in the summer time, me, Momma, Oma and him, would all travel in his motor home aka RV.  He sold Chase refrigerated doors.  These are the doors you see in the grocery store, that are made of vinyl, and seal in the cold air in the meat and frozen food areas.  They are usually split down the middle and have clear windows in them.  I traveled 7 southern states, before I was 5. 

Three of my early memories happened in that motor home.  The first is of my mother.  We had been driving all night.  We pulled over, parked and slept.  I remember awaking in the dark to the sound of  ocean waves crashing against the shore.  My mother was lying beside me in bed.  We had arrived at Biloxi Beach and we spent the day there swimming.  My next early memory is of sitting at Oma’s feet, crocheting and singing “On the road again.”  I was maybe 3 or 4. 

The third memory is I believe of Grandpa attacking me.  I believe he attacked me at least twice.  Once about 2 ½ and other time about age 4 or 5.  I believe he would attack me in my sleep.  I believe these two times I woke up during the attacks.  I have this memory of just him and me alone in the motor home, on a trip by ourselves.  My mother says it never happened, but I remember him telling me this story of us being on a trip in Mississippi.  He told me he could not get me to quit screaming.  That I screamed from Mississippi, until he put me pack in Oma’s arms here in Louisiana.  I remember part of this.  I was sitting in the big chair up front, and every time I looked at him I started screaming and crying.  I believe he attacked me on this trip and this was my reaction. 

Oma made one more trip to German before she died, in the early 1980’s.  I know there has been talk, from family members, over the years that many believe Oma would never come home.  That she would just stay in Germany, now that her children were grown.  That finally, she could be free of Grandpa.  Whatever her reasons, whether she came back for me or us grandkids, or for Mom, or for other reasons she came back. 

Ilsa

The last little bit

In April my friend Marie went into the local mental hospital, Brentwood.  She came to me one night and told me that her husband, Jack, had told her that after 14 years of marriage, he no longer loved her.  This sent her into a rage and she tried to kill herself.  Jack had stopped her.  Jack was going to put her in Brentwood so she might get better.  I asked her if she wanted me to help her pack.  She said, “Yes.”  I went across the street to help her pack. 

Marie would spend 10 days in Brentwood.  She was my best friend.  We spent almost every day together.  We had become friends no long before Momma Muriel died.  Her little wire hair Dachshund Buddy, would often wander across the street, threw my doggy door and into my bed.  I would call her and say, “You missing somebody?”  It was Marie who helped me get through many challenges in my life.  During those first few hard months after Momma Muriel died, I knew Marie would be coming over at 5 to drink a glass of wine with me.  I asked her to go to Novelle’s funeral with me, to make sure I didn’t spit in her coffin. 

Marie got mixed up in drugs. She came to me one day and told me she had a $200 a day meth habit, but that she had been clean for a few weeks.  I told her to stay clean or we would no longer be friends.  Slowly she would shut me out.  I knew she was back on drugs.

In April of 2014 I received a Facebook message from her.  I asked if she was done with drugs, and she told me she was.  She had been arrested and convicted on 3 felonies.  She had been clean for a year and a half.  Now clean to her was a relative term.  Marie was a drunk.  She would go threw a 5 liter box of wine in two days.  She stayed away from purple wines, because she drank so much it would turn her teeth purple.  She was also addicted to pain killers for her back and hip. 

Jack did pretty much everything for her.  Marie sat in her chair and drank most days.  Jack had bough her a car, and she had destroyed it.  She told me at one point, it had become a rolling meth lab.  We were both shocked when Jack told her he was no longer in love with her.  Jack was a great man of faith.  He told her he had been praying for two years, that he would fall back in love with her and it just never happened.  He would be willing to go to counseling, but was pretty sure he wanted a divorce.  After everything she had put him through, who could blame him. 

I was a wreck when Marie went to Brentwood.  I called her every day.  I had three or four panic attacks in that 10 day period.  I cried myself to sleep at night, more than once.  A week after Marie got home she was sitting at my kitchen table one night.  She began to tell me that she had breast cancer.  That they had found it with two blood test while she was at Brentwood.  They confirmed it with a mammography.  She then asked me how bad stage 3 was.  We were all pretty shaken up that night.  But something just did not sit well with me.  Her story did not seem plausible.  Why would they do all that at a psychiatric facility?  Could they?

I happened to have an appointment with my GYN the next morning.  I asked him some of these questions.  He told me there was no blood test for cancer.  And to have a mammography at a mental facility did not seem right.   Turns out it was all a lie.  When I confronted Jack with everything that had gone on, I asked him if she lied a lot.  Jack said, “Sometimes yes and sometimes no.” 

Everything came to a head the night Prince died, May 5^th, 2015.  I had taken Marie home from my house and confronted her there.  Buddy was still at my house.  Jay would drive over a bit later and bring Buddy home.  Prince wanted to ride with his dad.  We did not notice he was running after Jay.  I was outside, talking to Juno, when I heard Prince get hit on the road and scream.

We ran across the street.  He’s been hit, but he was not dead.  Marie had come out of her house, crying and asking what had happened.  Begging me to forgive her.   All of us took him back across the street to my house.  He was fading.  It would not be long.  Even if we floored it to the emergency vet, he would be dead by the time we arrived.  If he was going to die, let it be at home.  Juno and I lit some candles on my altar, burned some incense and called for the Gods and ancestors to come close.  We would need them now. 

Prince had been sick for about 6 weeks.  He had had what we thought was a heart attack one night.  I just woke up screaming and disorientated.  The next day the vet  diagnosed he with an enlarged heart. He was on medication, but he did not want to eat for us.  Every day was a struggle.  I wonder sometimes if Prince committed doggie suicide.  I wonder if he just didn’t want to live anymore.  Prince died in Jay’s arms an hour after being hit. This child who had been so abused and unwanted, passed in loving arms, and surrounded by his family.  We all took turns holding him.  We buried him the next day, next to Punka. 

Since his passing, we have built a little area I call “the grove.” around his and Punka’s graves, at Holda’s Well.  It is a small area covered in bricks, with seating places on either side.  Now I can sit with them alone, or with guests.  It is a great little peaceful spot, where I can listen and watch the birds and get internet reception on my tablet. 

I have not seen Marie since that night.  I do not blame her for Prince’s death.  I just want nothing to do with a liar.  I’ve had too many in my life.  Jay and I retain a good relationship with Jack and saw him recently. 

In June I had my year physical with my PCP.  I told him I was having terrible anxiety and several panic attacks a week.  He put me on Buspar and it has been a God send.  I have not felt this good since before Oma died when I was 6.  It took a few months to get me to feeling better.  August 6^th , I started writing again for the first time in many years.  I have written or edited almost every day since then. 

Ilsa

 

 

 

A Visit with Juno

A few days after I threw out Paige, I went to visit with Juno.  Oh it was so good to see her face!  I just embraced her.  We both just cried.  We sat and drank tea, while she told me what had happened to them since they had moved.  They had lived with D & K for over 6 months, in some really scary neighborhoods.  It took her a bit to see what I had seen in D.  She said, “You were right.  I just didn’t want to see it.”  D ended up using Juno like a slave.  Juno and Kay had decided they had to get out.  They saved up their money and gotten a little rent trailer.  It was tiny, but it was theirs.  It was the first place they had lived all by themselves.

Juno told me that after our fight, she believed I would never speak to her again.  She had a flashback during part of the fight and did not remember what she had said.  I reminded her.  She said, “I’m surprised you even want to talk to me after that.”  I assured her I knew she had been under D’s influence and had not been herself that day. 

I asked if D & K were still attending Druid.  Juno confirmed they were not.  I asked if it would be okay with her if I began to attend again.  She said that would be up to me.  I celebrated Beltane 2014 with my Druid group.  It was my first ritual since Mabon, more than 6 months before.  It felt so good.  It felt like home.

I continued that summer to pick up the pieces of my broken heart, recover from Paige, and from Punka’s death.  One night in July I was in the tub when Tami came in the door.  She was holding the most beautiful little black and tan Dachshund.  She had been working at the Bossier Animal Control that day and someone had brought him in.  They turned him in because he had eaten a pair of headphones.  I told him it was the best thing they had ever done.  They were full at the time, and were having to put dogs down.  So Tami had snatched him up, because she knew he would be perfect for our family.  “He looks like a Scooter to me,” I said.  And so it was that Scooter entered our lives.

Jay had been working for Unifirst for almost 5 years at that point.  We both wanted him out of that job so bad.  One warm day, I think it was in the upper 80’s, Jay called me and did not sound right.  He was exhausted and hot. He had stopped sweating and was slurring his words.  I knew he was in danger.  I told him to get off the road, and into some AC and cool off.  Jay was heat exhausted and was close to having a heat stroke.  I made him tell me where he was.  He was somewhere at a stop in Arkansas.  I told him if he did not get in some AC I was going to call 911 and get the first responders to him.  He promised me he would. 

I hung up with him and called his boss and told him what was going on.  I called back and Jay was safe and cooling off.  It was enough to scare both of us.  I told him I didn’t care if we went broke, I wanted him to find a new job, even if it was for less money.  His job was not worth his health or his life.

Tami would buy her first home in August of 2014, and move out of Momma Muriel’s house.  I was honored when she told me one of the reasons they were staying in Louisiana was to be close to me.  They chose a home about 10 miles from me.  I can be to her house in about 15 minutes.  As we could not figure out how to move Mr. Henry, the pot bellied pig, without traumatizing him, Tami gave him to me and he stayed here.  She comes to visit him and bring him treats often. 

In September Jay had to go in for his DOTD physical.  He struck up a conversation with the male medical assistant there, Robert.  Jay just happened to mention that he was trained as a medical assistant, but had been unable to find work in his field.  Robert told Jay they were hiring, and looking for a male medical assistant.  He ran to get his supervisor and introduce her to Jay.  Jay was hired a few weeks later.  Jay has never been happier! 

Jay gave his two weeks at Unifirst.  We decided for Samhain to take a vacation and go to south Texas and visit with my Druid buddies, Mother Marie, Mother Gloria and Father Dave.  Hell after the last few years we needed a break.  Tami looked after the farm for us.  We had the best time.  They are still talking about our cooking down there.  I told Mother Gloria about my trip on Marijuana, and about not wanting to be possessed by the Gods again.  She warded me and that warding has held.  I have not been taken by the Gods since December of 2013.  It is my hope that it will not happen again.  I think my mind is too fragile at this point.

On December 2^nd, 2014 Paige left my parents house.  I meet with Mom for the first time in two and a half years on December 7^th.  Two days later Mom had a stroke.  She still thinks it had to do with all the stress she was under with Paige.

Tami called me in December and told me she was having trouble with Lu-Lu and Pippy.  Both of them kept getting out of the gate and terrorizing the neighborhood.  She had asked me to take them before, but I was never ready.  We both weren’t.  I think we were both ready this time.  So close to Christmas we added Lu-Lu, a 10 year old Chihuahua, and Pippy, a 4 year old black and white mutt, into our pack.  They are very happy here.  Pippy is quite a kisser, and loves to play with Scooter.  Lu-Lu is a primadonna and Sophia’s BFF. 

Juno had told me she had never really had a Christmas, so Jay and I decided to give her one.  I had so much fun shopping for them.  It is one of my favorite Christmases’ so far, and much better than the Christmas I had spent the year before. 

Jay had started his new job in November.  We knew we would have to spend 90 days or so without insurance. We stocked up our meds as best we could, and prepared to make it through.  Thank gods for the oil well checks.  When it came time to buy my two depression meds at, $250 and $800, a bottle we obviously could not afford it. 

I made the decision to get off of my meds, for the first time in at least 10 years.  We buckled down and prepared for the worst.  What happened next we did not expect.  I began to feel better.  I was not sleeping 17 hours a day anymore.  I was not so fuzzy.  Jay and I’s love relationship got better.  I had been having problems for at least a year.  I figured, as in all things, that I was to blame and it was just all in my head.  I had had so many Dr’s tell me that, I started to believe it.  Turns out it was the meds.  I think I had been overmedicated for a long time.  I started to feel so good, I began sewing again.  Something I had not done in a long time. 

My life was finally starting to get better.  Jay was no longer exhausted all the time.  He was only working 40 hours a week.  He was not in that hot truck.  He would come home singing.  Then he would start cooking and doing clothes.  I was overjoyed to see him so happy.

In February of 2015 Juno wanted to get a service dog, to help with her mental problems.  The people in her trailer park began to give her trouble as to size and breed.  She would find a dog, and then try to talk to them about getting said dog and by the time they got back to her the dog would not be available anymore.  Then they wanted to charge them more rent because of this new dog.  Juno and I were talking one day over lunch and I said, “I will have to check with Jay, but why don’t you and Kay move out to Momma Muriel’s trailer.  You would have lots of room, and could have any dog you wanted.”  Juno and Kay moved out here the first part of April. 

Ilsa

 

 

Goodbye Paige

I would watch Paige use men, and be used by them.  She brought one home named Kevin.  He stayed with us for a week.  Telling us he was going to remodel our bathroom for room and board.  We said that was great.  He tore apart my bathroom, and in the end stole over $1000 worth of tools from us.  When a person tells you that they are a 5 time felon, with warrants out for their arrest, and that they have stole in the past.  Believe them, and don’t let them in your house!  I had no idea until after he left that she had only been texting him for about 3 days before they met and shagged for the first time, or that he had been homeless.  He also seems to have had a drug problem.  He would take Paige’s car, at that point still legally my car, and disappear for hours at night.

The night Kevin left and we discovered everything that was missing, we of course called the cops.  Paige just laid in her room.  We met with the cop on the front porch, we were scared if he came in the house he would smell weed.  We hid that too.  We knew Paige had warrants out for her, because of old speeding tickets.  I did not want the cop to take her.  Finally he said, “I want to talk to her.”  He agreed he would take her in for her old warrants.  I went in to Paige who was laying in the room feeling sorry for herself, and told her to come out.   She refused.  I went out to the cop and told her she refused.  He said, “Either she comes out or I’m going in to get her.”  He believed her to be an accomplice in all of this, and she may very well have been.  I don’t know.  I went back and finally got her to come out.  Paige could be a hateful bitch, and gods was she one that night. 

The cop was polite to her and she was downright hateful, not mean, not rude, but downright hateful.  I have a problem with people who hate cops, since Jay’s Grandfather, Great-Grandfather, and Great Uncle were all police officers.  Given my history with Melinda and Paige, I have come to believe people who hate police, often have something to hide.

The Police officer asked for her birthday and full name.  She refused to give both.  Finally he told her, “Mam’ either you give me your birthday or I will hall you in for obstruction.”  Since I did not want that to happen, I told him both.  I should have let him take her.  Would have saved me so much trouble, but I didn’t.  Paige gave me this “go to hell” look, like you would not believe.  Didn’t she understand I was trying to save her???  She was mad at me for days after that.  They never did find our stuff or Kevin for that matter.  When I called the police later to discuss how the investigation was going, they told me they would also like to give me the number for Jerry Springer, because of how fucked up this shit was.

The next man she brought in, a few days later, was Vincent Stumblingbear. I will never forget him or his name.  He was a terrible drunk.  We went two rounds with him.  He promised to fix our bathroom for room and board as well.  We were hesitant, but said yes anyways.  He did lay most of the floor. I think he stayed a week.  Oh they were in love and they were going to get married.  Vincent was Native American.  Paige knew nothing of native peoples. She often insulted him and I had to correct her.  She told Vincent, “When we get married, why don’t you wear your regalia?” Which was totally insulting to him, regalia is for rituals and pow-wow, it is not a Halloween costume.  He and I both had to explain how insulting it was. Vincent had taken a shine to me, but then many of her fellows did. 

Vincent had only been here a few days when we came to understand he had a serious drinking problem.  One night he drank 2 fifths of vodka, another bottle of some purple liquid stuff that was not quite a fifth, and something else.  And he was still upright the next morning, when we found him.  He’d been wandering the woods all night long.  He had never been to bed.  Paige and him fought and he tried to hit her.  He stopped just in time.  It was enough to terrify me. 

Jay and I told Paige we wanted him gone, and he left.  But he would not stop calling.  Vincent promised to be a good boy, if he could come back, ‘cause he just loved Paige so much.  I begged Jay and finally he said yes.  I never told Jay about Vincent trying to hit Paige.  Jay told me later, if he had know that had happened, he would have never let him come back here. 

I told Vincent he could come back, but no alcohol.  I bought him beads to keep him busy.  I know that sounds condescending, but Vincent was a wonderful beadier and had been building regalia for years to support himself.  Vincent came back and made it 3 days with us.  He literally walked away.  He walked from my house, to the interstate, many miles away, and either caught a ride or walked back to his home more than an hour away. 

He showed back up a few days later, for his things.  Vincent, like many of Paige’s men, had a thing for me.  Many of her boyfriends, and I use that term loosely, thought Paige and I were a couple, and that they would get to fuck us both.  Vincent had proposed marriage to me at least twice.  I remained firm that I was happy where I was.  When he came to get his things, Paige was not here.  He hugged me a little too tight, and proposed to me again. 

I had been chopping vegetables when he came in.  When he left I grabbed a knife and ran and hid in the closet.  I flew into a panic attack and stayed in it, for what felt like hours. My pills did not help me that time.  I think I stayed in the closet until Paige found me like that, about two hours later.  Sorry my memory is a little fuzzy there.

In April of 2014, I would be robbed, proposed to twice and two old friends would come back into my life. Marie, you can read about her here in the last little bit, had messaged me on Facebook.  I had not seen her in a very long time.  I went to visit with her and when I came home, Paige was belligerent to me.  Telling me to get in the house and start doing house work.  She said, “I let you go and visit that woman.”  I was thinking, “Excuse me!  You let me!  Who the fuck do you think you are?”  but I said nothing as usual. 

Juno had messaged me a few days after Marie had, telling me I had been right about D & K all the time.  She said that she and Kay had a new home, they wanted to see me, and she was desperately sorry for what had happened between us.  I never expected that message.  I anxiously wanted to see her. 

When I got Juno’s message, I remember looking up from the phone at Paige and thinking, “I have my friends back now.  It’s time for you to leave bitch!”  The final straw came for me when one day she was mean to Tami.  Like I have told you before, you can do what you want to me, but when you start messing with friends, that’s it. I watched her fight with Tami.  I walked in the house to cool off and gather my thoughts.  I walked back out and let Paige have it.  I still don’t remember what I said to her.

Jay and I had no idea how to get her out of the house.  We knew she had nowhere to live, very little money, and that when she left there was a possibility she would take Jelly with her.  She and Jelly had become tight again, in the time she lived here.  I did not have the courage to tell her to get out, that I didn’t care what happened to her, and that she was not taking Jelly.  I wish to the Gods now I had.

Not long after our fight she began to date Dave, who worked in the café up the street.  The day after their first date he fell and broke his leg.  She came to me and said, “Dave fell and broke his leg.  I am going to go move in with him and take care of him.”  She did.  We called her soon after and said, we hoped the move would be permanent for her, and that she should come and get her stuff very soon.  She took Jelly with her. 

When Jay bought my new car in February of 2014 I had promised Paige my car. She had been driving it, for some time.  She had even started repairing it.  I saw Paige one more time, the day I sold her my car.  Jelly was I the back window.  It would be the last time I would ever see her.

Paige lived with Dave until September of 2014, when he threw her out.  She then went back to live with my parents.  They would spend over $3000 trying to help her out.   I was still not speaking to my mother at that time.  The whole time Jay had been begging me to go and get Jelly.  I said, “No.”  I was afraid of Paige that she would not give her back to us.  If she called the cops, I believed they would side with her.  Mom and Dad asked her to leave in December 2014.  She and I were still Facebook friends.  I got good and drunk one night, and told her what a bitch and what a slut she was.  I told her the only reason I was still friends with her on Facebook, was so I could keep tabs on Jelly.  She blocked me the next day.

Ten months later I have no idea where Paige is.  I have no idea if Jelly is alive or dead.  Many nights I kick myself.  I have no idea if Jelly is cold or hungry, no idea if she is being loved or has been passed off to someone else.  I wonder if she hates me?  If she goes to bed every night thinking her Momma gave her away?  Does she thinks she is bad or that she did something wrong?  I have no idea.  You have no idea how I weep for this child, or the guilt that consumes me because I would not fight for her.  I have finally had to give her to the Goddess.  I have begun lately to think of her as dead, and greave for her.  I have no way to tell her how sorry I am.  I may have to wait a lifetime, before I will ever find out what happened to her. I have tried to search for Paige on Facebook, so that I might poke around her page and check on Jelly.  But she seems to have left Facebook all together.  Even if I am not logged into Facebook I cannot find her. 

So you’ve got to be asking yourselves why does she telling me all these stories.  As I’ve written this timeline sequence I’ve asked myself the same thing.  I think I keep telling these tales not as a woe-is-me tale, but a warning to not be like me.  To stand up and fight for yourself, even if that means you might get knocked down by the consequences.  Mike, Mike D., Melinda, D and Paige, even Perro, all have taught me major lessons in life.  I think the biggest one is that you can’t save everyone.  You are not the Goddess!  It is not your job in life to take her place and try and save people.  My life has taught me, if you find someone you think you can help, DON’T!  You are impeding on the Goddesses work.  If you help them, they will never learn.  Yes you can save animals, you can save the rainforest, and you can save the earth, but you can’t save people.  They have to save themselves.  What you are trying to save them from is life lessons.  If the baby doesn’t fall, it never learns to walk.

I have always worn my heart on my sleeve.  I have had to learn to lock my heart away, and only let it out after a while.  With all of these people who have used me, you have to remember, I let them.  I have watched myself over the years go from being warm, bubby and gregarious to everyone I meet, to being slightly paranoid to meet anyone.  I have become hesitant of going out and slightly terrified crowds.  I have no idea if I make a new friend, when and if they will be the next to try and hurt me.  Everytime it happens, Jay and I sit in our little house and say, “Never again!  We will never help anyone else again!”

It sounds cruel, but you have to learn to protect yourself.  You don’t have to give away everything for your friends to like you.  They should like you for you, rich or poor.  If they don’t they are not worth your friendship.

Ilsa

Under her thumb

In December of 2013 Jay and I bought our food trailer, and started our business Garson Du Bayou.  It means Boys of the Bayou in French. We entered into a partnership with Jay’s BFF.  Paige could not stand him.  She basically hated anyone I loved. Paige was totally against the business.  She was not fond of Jay’s cooking.  Everyone loves Jay’s cooking.  I think Paige was just hell bent to destroy anything that was good in my life.  I wonder if her plan all along was to make me as miserable as she was?

We started cleaning out the food truck, and getting it ready.  We decided our first test run event would be Mardi Gras in February. The night before our first event Punka got sick.  She developed a huge bubble on the side of her face.  We took her into the Emergency Vet.  I pray you never have to go there.  After many hours they told us that they believed she had been bitten by something, and that is what had caused the swelling.  It was kind of odd, since she had not been outside that day.  She had been sleeping at my feet all day.  They told us if her condition changed to come in. 

The next day the swelling had moved to under her throat.  Paige offered to stay home with her, while we did our event.  The next morning I would move over Punka’s heart.  She could not drink water and she was having trouble breathing.  We rushed her back into the vet’s office.  We were told she was in congestive heart failure.  The bubble they thought was from a bit or sting, was actually fluid, and not it was impeding her heart function.  We left her there to see if her condition would improve.  In conversations with the Vet, we learned that this would be the end for Punka.  This problem would never go away and she might get a little better, but we would be coming back to this point again and again.  I could not let her live like that. 

I talked with the vet, with Paige, and with Jay, and we decided to put her down.  We went back to the Emergency Vet’s office and waited 3 hours, until we could be seen.  I almost lost my nerve several times.  Punka died in our arms on February 23^rd, 2014.  We buried her the next day in Holda’s Well.

I have a little sacred spot on my property right outside my bedroom.  When I raise up out of bed in the morning, it is the first thing I see.  We have a fountain and a bricked area. The old timers will tell you to make a spell strong you have to add a bit of yourself to it, so you use blood, spit or urine.  I had peed Punka at this spot one day and then me.  We had both given of ourselves, so it seemed like a good spot.  We used some scalloped edging corners to make a 2 x 2 square on the ground.  In the middle we put bricks with holes in them, so anything poured in this spot would go down to the ground.  We added dirt from a sacred Holda site in Pennsylvania.  I will go out and give Holda’s well offerings of alcohol, food, coffee, milk, whatever. Punka was my familure. When she died, I could think of no better offering to give Holda, then my fur child.  No better place for her to rest, but a place she and I had built together.  So we opened up Holda’s well, and laid Punka to rest in there.  Every morning her little grave is the first thing I see. 

 In early March 2014 Paige called me out.  She said, “Ten years ago you used to be feisty and vivacious!  What happened to you?”  I thought ten years ago I was in OA and working out.  I decided to go back.  I became abstinent very quickly, got off sugar, began to work out and lost 30lb.  I would gain it back as quickly as I lost it, and never lose another pound while I was in program.  I quit OA right before my one year anniversary.  After hearing one day in the rooms, the reason I was not losing weight was I was not close enough to my god.  If it works for you, that’s good.  I wish you luck.

Paige would get this attitude with me anytime I tried to go to a meeting or go workout.  She seemed to be jealousy of anything I did for myself.   She told me, don’t need to go work out at a gym.  You could lose weight by doing house work if you really tried. 

On my birthday Tami, and my friend Jenny held a birthday party for me.  Paige wanted me all to herself.  She was very jealous anytime I spent time with my other friends.  Tami and Jenny both offered to beat Paige up for me.  They were deadly serious.  They tried to convince me that Paige was controlling me.  My friends had told me, Jay had told me, but I was still fiercely loyal to her.  I felt she was helping me.  I was not listening to reason at that point.  I am blessed to have friends who so loved me and wanted what was best for me, even if I was under Paige’s thumb.  Tami said, “I just don’t like the way she talks to you.”

Tami was still living out here in Momma Muriel’s house at that time.  I told Paige that when Tami moved, she could move in.  Paige tried to convince me one day to give her the deed to Momma Muriel’s house, so that she could raise Tami’s rent to about $800 dollars.  I told her, “No.”  Oh Paige did not like that, but then she never liked it when I asserted myself to her.

Ilsa

 

 

Marijuana may not be the drug for me

In those 7 years that I did not speak to Paige, Jelly became my child.  She was loved and she was cherished.  She roamed these lands and hunted moles, her favorite thing.  She loved Prince and us.  She lived a happy life here.

I always wondered what happened to Paige.  I looked her up on Facebook one day.  It took me a while to find her, but eventually I did.  By that time, I had forgotten what she had been like, or why I had been so angry with her. 

When Barb suggested that I might be Bipolar I put out the word on Facebook that I would like to talk to others with a similar diagnosis.  Paige chimed in that she had the disease and would love to share her experience with me.  We talked real briefly on the phone one day, near the end of D & K’s stay with us.  She called me not long after they left, and told me she was staying in a motel in Bossier.  I thought I should go out and see her, and so Jelly and I went to visit her.  God’s help me I should have left her right there.  But I took pity on her and thought I’ve got a spare room, and some money.  Why don’t I try to make her life better?

I was still repainting Jay’s man cave, Juno and Kay’s old room.  I told her I need a few weeks to finish it, to buy a new bed, but after that would she like to move in. I felt I just could not leave her there.   By late October 2013 Paige moved in with me.  For 8 months she would turn my life upside down. 

Paige had been in Texas most of the last 7 years.  She had lived in Texarkana, been engaged, lost her house to foreclosure, been robbed, been homeless, been in jail once we think for drugs, and once for “abusing” her mom.  I am fuzzy on the details of her jail stays.  She told us she was diagnosed as Bipolar in jail, and taken to a 30 day treatment place.  By the time she came to us she was no longer on meds, and was convinced she did not need them. 

I let Paige do things in my home and on my property that I am not proud of.  She treated those closest to me like dirt.  She treated Jay like dirt, and one night would even turn me against Jay.  She freely admitted to me, in the end, that she was trying to break Jay and I up.  She came very close.  She told me every day how stupid he was, and I started chiming in with her.  Remember that part about me being malleable.  I often bend my will to others.  She believed Jay was verbally abusive to me, because some of the pet names we call each other.  She gave me commands and I followed them. For 8 months she basically sat on my front porch, smoked cigarettes I bought her, washed clothes, played with her phone, and found guys to fuck. 

We knew Paige loved Marijuana.  It was still illegal in the state of Louisiana at this time, still is as of this writing.  Jay hated this fact.  He was terrified we would get caught, get in trouble, and lose everything we owned.  I am grateful we never did.  We went round and round about this.  He wanted her out because of it, I begged him to let her stay, and because he loves me, he did. She smoked in her room, even after we told her not too.  I am allergic to cigarette smoke.  She would even smoke her weed inside on a rainy, cold or windy day.  She told me because she was paying rent, she should be allowed to do what she wanted in her room.

I told her I had always wanted to try Marijuana, to see what all the fuss was about.  But as I am allergic to smoke I could obviously not smoke it.  So we went to Texarkana and bought some hash from her middleman connection.  On Christmas Eve 2013 we made Marijuana brownies.  I had the first one and waited about an hour, nothing.  So I had another, nothing.  I snuck a third one.  They were after all good brownies.  I got up from the table, to go to the bathroom about the time the first one hit.  I collapsed in the doorway between my room and the bathroom.  I told Paige, “Strawberry.”  After some arguing she went and got Jay.  They both tried for the next 45 minutes to get me in bed, but I was a limp noodle, and you have to remember I’m a big girl so there was no lifting me.  I told them, “I forgot some witches, should not do drugs.”  Some believe since our minds are already open to magical forces, that we should not really tempt fate by putting ourselves in an altered state with drugs. 

I would trip for the next 9 hours.  My last real memory before I passed out for the first time was becoming possessed.  Jay had one arm, Paige had the other.  I was in front of my bedroom window.  I felt the spirit come through the window and into me, all the while I am screaming, “No!”  I was taken against my will.  As I have thought on how to tell you this story, these last few days, I have been reviewing the details.  I wonder now if I did not call for Holda in that state, and she came into me to protect me from what was going on.  I don’t know. 

I am not sure if I passed out at that point or not.  I do remember The Mother coming thru and her wanting to reach up and physically hurt Paige. I had some control at that point, and was able to restrain her.  I know she wanted to yell at Paige.  The only thing I remember her saying was, “I am ready to receive.”  Meaning she was ready to receive questions.  I know at one point she wanted to scream at Paige, “Christian get out of my house!”  I don’t remember anything after that.  At some point the spirits must have left me. 

I blacked in and out for the next few hours.  I cried, I laughed so hard I peed all over myself more than once. I thought I invented ham, and begged others to look at what I had created. I took off all my clothes.  I was paranoid.  I would come too and beg for them to get Tami or Barb.  Beg to be taken to the hospital.  I cried that I was a witch, alone and solitary.  I called Jay all manner of terrible things.  I’m still apologizing for that one.  I started screaming and crying that Jay had left me, when he was right beside me.  At some point I was given milk to make the trip, lessen or stop.  It didn’t help.  I started vomiting.  I climbed in the tub with my socks on.  I thought if I suddenly run outside naked, at least I would have something on my feet.  Tried out my Kung Fu moves when people tried to put clothes on me.  I came to at one point and Paige said, “I haven’t’ had a cigarette in hours.”  I said, “We better take advantage of it while we have it.” And I pushed her 300lb ass from the bathroom to the front door, about 50ft.  I blacked out again when I got to the front door.  Jay finally got tired and went to bed.  I woke up out of my last black out about midnight, sitting naked in my chair, vomiting and holding on to a trash can.  Having no idea what was going on.  Somewhere in here I took one of my panic pills.  I don’t know if that made it better or worse.  I know now that I had basically overdosed on Marijuana.  I didn’t know the effect was more intense when you eat it.  I didn’t know that the brownies take about an hour each to kick in. 

I would try Marijuana one more time while Paige was there.  I had one brownie.  I got hot, horney, hungry and sleepy.  I think now marijuana may just not be the drug for me.  I still think it should be legalized for both medicinal and recreational use.  But if you end up like me, you should not being driving heavy machinery, Okay! 

If you are a witch or other pagan, and do decide to try Marijuana for the first time, you might want there to be other trained witches or pagans around you.  Just in case something paranormal happens to you and you need someone to get you out of that situation.  Just FYI.

Ilsa

Meet Paige

I met Paige not long after I met Jay.  We would be friends on and off for about 12 years.  She and I would have a complex and turbulent relationship over the years.  Forgive me for jumping around, but this one is still so raw that I am having trouble trying to tell this story.

I met Paige in an OA meeting.  She was so beautiful, with her curly brown hair, her beautiful purple dress and this wonderful glow about her.  Paige asked me to be her sponsor.  I agreed.  I’d been in program for a while and never had a sponsee, although I had wanted one.  We went to coffee a few weeks later and she told me her secret.  She was glowing because she was 6 months pregnant.  She was trying to decide whether to give the baby up for adoption, or keep it. 

Paige had grown up rich.  As we say, her Daddy was in oil.  That since of entitlement and that nothing was ever good enough still permeates her being.  She like so many had left Louisiana for work in Texas.  She had gone to Cosmetology school in Austin, and then worked as a hair stylist in Dallas.  Her family would help her out for a long time, but ultimately they would cut her off.  I understand why now.  Paige didn’t just burn bridges, she fucking blew them up. 

I asked her one time, why her dad had never set her up.  I always thought that was odd.  She said, “Oh he did.  When I was about 21 he gave me a car, set me up in an apartment, helped me get my own salon.  I was making so much money I remember doing bricks of marijuania and lots of ecstasy.  I had so many friends back then.”  She never saw that she was using him, or that she was a self righteous princess.  My guess is she still doesn’t. 

Paige and I became very close, very fast.  She had an infectious laugh and exuded self confidence.  Paige’s father ran a little convenience store.  I asked if she could get me an interview with him.  She did, and after many months of looking for work, in April of 2003 I finally got a job with her dad. 

It was there that we would meet Jelly.  She was a beautiful, little half Pekinese and half Dachshund.  She was just a few weeks the first time I met her.  She belonged to the little lesbian couple, one of whom worked in our café.  They used to bring her in the store, and I would hide her in my shirt.  I would walk around with her, check people out and say, “No I haven’t seen Jelly!  I have no idea where she is!”  All the while she would be peaking out from the top of my shirt.  I loved her from the moment I saw her. Jelly’s original owners broke up and Paige acquired her. 

Paige and I had many adventures, while I worked at the store.  That summer Paige gave birth to a healthy baby boy.  He was adopted by a wonderfully, loving, gay couple from California.  Part of their arrangement was that they set her up in an apartment and they gave her a dog, she named Maggie.  I got a job with the state, and moved to Ebarb in October 2003.  Between the time I left and the time I got married in February 2004 Paige’s apartment burned. 

Jelly and Maggie were trapped inside.  Paige had gone to lunch, forgot her purse and came home.  She arrived to find the apartment on fire.  She yelled for Jelly and Maggie and they came to her.  We have no idea how long they were in there with the place on fire.  They were the only thing that survived the fire.  Jelly remained terrified of smoke, fire, smoke alarms, and loud noises for the rest of her life.  Loud noises would make her lose her whole little doggy mind.  So bad that Jay had to put his pager on vibrate.  The beeping would set her off.

Paige had become friendly with my family.  My mother, ever helpful for anyone who is not her family, came to her side, and suggested she move in with them.  When Jay and I married in Mom’s living room, Paige was my maid of honor.  She laughed threw the whole ceremony.  I asked her some years later, why she did that.  She said, “Because I thought you were so stupid for marrying Jay.  He is so stupid.”  She never expressed her hatred of Jay until she moved in with us.

Paige continued to be in my life, while we lived in Ebarb.  Even coming to stay the weekend with me one time, with a feller she had met on line and became engaged to.  Years later she would not even remember his name, or that she had ever been engaged to him.  Paige went thru men, like Kleenex.  A few weeks later she would not even remember their names.  In the 8 months she lived with me she would go thru about 20 or so men.  She would meet these guys on the internet, talk to them for a few days, swear she was in love and then start meeting up with them.  A few days later they would not meet her expectations or run and she would be crushed for a day or two.  Then she was right back at it.  She always had 2 or 3 dangling at the same time. 

Paige was such a part of my life, she was like my sister.  I don’t know who long she lived with Mom and Dad the first time.  At some point she got a little efficiency apartment, but she could not have dogs, so Maggie and Jelly lived with my parents.  Paige never offered to help them pay for their care, and never in all the years she lived with them, offered to pay them rent.

Paige could be awful stupid.  She loved marijuana, we knew that.  I remember being furious at her one time, because she had given all of her tax refund to this guy she was screwing, so he could go and get them some weed.  I think it was about $400.  He took off in her car.  When he didn’t come back after 24 hours, she called the cops.  She knew his first name, but not his last, nor did she know where he lived, despite saying how in love she was with him.  Typical Paige.  They finally found her car, but never the money.

In the Spring or Summer of 2006, she had left the efficiency apartment to go to Dallas, and take care of a sick friend who was dying.  When she came home a few months later she had no place to live.  So she moved back in with my parents for 3 months. 

By the Fall of 2006 my parents had had enough of her.  They asked her to leave.  I was so angry with my Mom when I found out, I threw her out of my house, and did not speak to her for months.  I told Paige we would take care of her dogs, for a while.  Maggie ran away while she was with us.  Paige found her at the local pound.  She was so pissed that Maggie had been spayed while she was there, and that she had to pay to get her out of the pound.  Maggie had just taken off down the road looking for her, one day.  We kept Maggie for a few more days while Paige found a place to stay in Texarkana, about an hour north of us.  Jelly would stay with us, until she could find more permanent housing. 

I would call Paige and check on her.  She would tell me how she was doing, and what new men were in her life.  They changed every few days it seemed.  She never once asked how Jelly was doing.  She never once offered to send me money for food, or medical care for her.  In October of 2006 I had had enough. 

I sent her an email and told her to forget us. I was pissed at her for never caring what was going on with Jelly. I told her that Jelly and Prince were in love.  They had always had a thing on the side, and I would not break them up.  I told her, “Don’t call, don’t write and don’t come home for Christmas.”  I would not hear from her again for seven years. 

Ilsa