What the hell?

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

How in the hell has it been four and a half years since I posted? Oh, right. Too much shit happened. And when I say shit, I mean shit. Flying shit. It hit the fan, it hit me in the face, it smacked me in the head, and it tried its hardest to drag me down. But here I am. I’m back, and it’s not going to be another four years before I post again. I’m a new person, a different person than I was in 2021.

“What the fuck happened?” you may be asking. Get yourself a drink. Sit down and get comfortable.

2021 was a weird year. My mum was advancing in Alzheimer’s, and my dad was taking care of her. Covid isolation was over. I had nine cats. I was in a… how shall I put it… not-so-great work environment that kept me wondering about my future. I was rescued, or so I thought, but the year ended on a decent note, because I had no idea what was coming.

Then 2022 arrived. My dad had been having some pain, but his doctor kept putting him off, calling it age. My dad was considering going out of province for an MRI, but… kept putting it off. Early March saw my dad in emerge in agony. Emergency surgery to clean up a bowel rupture (that could have been avoided if the colonoscopy his doctor had set up for him at the end of February was a full one, and not partial) revealed a giant cancerous mass (which could have been found if his doctor had done the MRI that my dad kept requesting). Long story short, my dad never came home. He died less that two months later in palliative care. At the same time (when my dad went into hospital) I took over 24 hour care of my mother. That didn’t go well because with the Alzheimer’s, she couldn’t understand where my dad was and why I was there 24-7. By day four of no sleep and increased aggression, mixed with dealing with the terminal diagnosis of my dad, I had a complete breakdown. Funnily enough, this was actually a good thing. My mum got the last memory care room in a 100km radius. My mum ended up passing away five months, less a day, from my dad. In that time, as an only child, I had to pack up and sell my childhood home, and clear out almost 60 years of my parents relationship. I lost everything that mattered to me within six months. The best part during this time (insert sarcasm here), it would seem I was on ADHD meds, not depression meds, so no wonder I was even more of a mess than I was. I really don’t know how my partner put up with me.

In the end, I am grateful for some things. First, that my dad didn’t have to be the one to put my mum in a home. That would have killed him. Second, that he didn’t have to see her decline to the point that she didn’t recognize anyone. Third, that he didn’t have to actually pack up and sell the house. He loved that house. Fourth, that he never had to mourn the death of his wife. Fifth, my mum never had to grieve the loss of her husband, because she forgot she even had one. Sixth, she never had to grieve the loss of the home she loved so much. I am grateful for all those things. The part that sucks is that I had to do all of those things for them.

2023 was (obviously) not quite as bad – how can you beat that, really. I was up to 11 cats at this point in time, since I brought my parents beebies home. I fled real life and visited my best friend in England, which was absolutely needed and phenomenal. And then the cats started getting sick. Lucyfur died first, then Merlin and Ophelia within three days of each other. Bug got so sick he almost died. I was not about to lose a fourth, so I spent a small fortune, but he’s still with me. At the same time, my job was so unstable I had no idea what my future was. And all because I cannot learn French. By the end of November of that year, I was officially unemployed. I like to call it retired, or self-employed now, but it took me a while to be okay with that. Ironically, the environment I was in is so fucked up now, I’m blissfully happy to be well away from it.

Then came 2024. After the last two years, it can’t be that bad, right? Hah! Granted, I finally made a short pilgrimage to Salem (fitting, eh what?) which was definitely the highlight of the year. While I was there, one of my cats (YinYang) was diagnosed with cancer. Keep in mind, Ophelia, YinYang, and Hamlet were all born on my mud porch and I had had them since before they were born. I was kind of attached. I spent more to try to save him that more people spend on used cars. But I still lost him. And I felt so much guilt putting him through so much for so long for what was my lack of acceptance. And then Hamlet got sick. I’ll not lie, he was my puppy. He was my favourite. I was holding his paw when he died. So, when 2025 came around I announced “That’s it! This year is my year!!!!”

I shouldn’t have said that considering the amount of sickness and death I’d dealt with for the last three years. Things were fine, my partner and I were going out and doing things, the cats were good (with the exception of Otis losing all of his teeth – but he’s blissfully happy now and gumming everything with enthusiasm), I was active with my band… then came September. That’s when it really did become my turn. It started with bad asthma, which I attributed to the drought since a lot of people were having more breathing issues. Nope. Organizing pneumonia. Which isn’t even pneumonia. WTF? I’ve lost track of how many x-rays I’ve had. I’ve had CT scans, MRIs, pulmonary breathing tests… I was on drugs to tear down my immune system, drugs to protect my lack of immune system (which without a drug plan cost me over $1,800 for three months), and drugs to counteract the damage the first one was doing to my body. One of them left me in so much pain once a month that I could barely walk. The main one (which I’m still on but almost weaned off) has shot up my blood sugar levels that I’m pre-diabetic, so now I’m not a new medication. But at my worst, from October to December, I had way too many breathing issues, pain walking, and although not contagious highly susceptible to anyone carrying even a little cold. So I was trapped at home. I missed every band event for Remembrance Day and every Christmas Parade. That killed me.

So, here we are in 2026. I have no expectations. I will make no exclamations. I am trying to shed the shit that has enveloped me for so long. I let too much control me for too long. I am talking back. I’m standing up. I’m speaking my mind. I’m taking the time to ground myself. I’m trying to let go.

I am becoming the Crone I was meant to be.

Otis

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

So, it would seem that I’m a cat whisperer. For some reason, they find me. Or I find them. Historically, I have cat allergies. How in the hell I have nine indoor cats is beyond me. But I digress.

Today is the story of Otis.

He began his life with another name, and another owner. The story I’ve been told is that his first owner decided that she couldn’t afford three cats, so she chose two and let them outside. I have no idea if this is true, but I used to watch them run to the house when they heard the tires crunch on the gravel, only to have doors closed in their faces. This broke my heart.

They were “adopted” by neighbours who fed them, but no attempt was made to bring them inside and give them love. I give them total kudos for feeding them and keeping them alive.

One day, one of the cats appeared on my deck, with a full chest covered in blood. I could not catch him, and I cried myself to sleep that night, because I couldn’t help this beautiful boy. A week passed, and it turned out some good Samaritan managed to catch him and have him fixed up. I would still love to know who that was. I would like to hug them.

I could go on, and ramble for hours, but the short story is that the neighbours who “adopted” them moved. They were able to catch one cat to bring to their new home as a barn cat, but they were unable to catch he-who-would-become-Otis. In fact, he clawed one of them so badly that he had to go to hospital. He ran into other people’s houses, freaked out, and threw himself off second floor balconies. This was not a lovey cat. They still tried to catch him, and I was accused of stealing him.

In the meantime, this cat had decided that I might be a nice person/victim/sucker and I ended up befriending the beast. I did so for another person, but he imprinted himself on me so much that it wasn’t right for him to leave. Outside the house, he followed me everywhere, allowed belly rubs, and didn’t want to leave my side.

Fast forward to 2021, and this wee boy (he’s huge, I call him my pitbull kitty) follows me around the house, sleeps on my chest, snores louder than a human, and washes my forehead for fun. He is my shadow, my confidant, my best friend, and my melty love-bucket.

Did I steal him? Maybe. But in my honest opinion… barn cat versus sleeping in fluffy beds, cuddling, and snoring like there’s no care in the world… you be the judge.

I went to an awards ceremony…

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

Louboutins, leather pants, prom dresses, little black dresses, skin tight pantsuits, so many sequins, mermaid suit with red pushup bra, thigh-high boots, bathroom selfies, drunk Santa security guards, yay for bow ties, 80s ball gowns, peroxide blonde, boyfriend jacket no boyfriend, I can’t hear a fucking thing, five-inch heels, sashaying, shiny green dress, shiny gold dress, shiny blue dress, shiny red dress, shiny silver dress, leopard print jumpsuit, animal print everything, I don’t need to see your underpants miss, faux-hawks, orange suits, rope belts, captain hats, Popeye pipe, spray tans, yay for ripped jeans and a blazer, zipper pants, why are you sitting on the floor, why is that beat pulsing non-stop, so many pantsuits!, a spaghetti strap dress should not be worn over a sweater, that blouse is not a dress, just because it’s a fancy hotel does not make bathroom selfies classy, what the fuck have you done to your hair, shiny mermaid, backless blouses, why is your dress a tube top, yay for converse, honey you are not Pink, apparently there’s something about Mary, no I won’t wear my teeth to the awards, apparently if you sit on the floor beside the VIP entrance they’ll let you in, my that’s a lovely chest tattoo miss, why is you boyfriend – who looks like Squiggy – chugging two beers for you fancy photo op, all the “VIP’s” are putting their empty glasses on our table – WTF – put it on the floor fucker, I think I’ll just rest my beer can in my cleavage. I need to go home. I need my cats.

The Witch is Grounded

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

I haven’t done anything wrong… I’m allowed to leave the house, watch television, and have a glass of wine. I’m grounded in the metaphorical sense. Almost two years ago, I shelved my broom for a sweeter ride. I bought a hearse. Yes, you read that right, a hearse. She is beautiful. Her name is Lucille.

Lucille is an older girl, born in 1996. Being a “Lady of Service,” she was unaccustomed to being so thoroughly enjoyed. She loved the road trips, but her heart couldn’t take all the excitement. Alas, she needs a double bypass. Not covered by OHIP, her new heart is beyond my capabilities, so I’m reaching out to those who appreciate ladies like Lucille, to help get her back up on her “feet.”

If anyone can contribute, or at least share her story, I would be grateful. Here is her link, and her story.
Lucille

A new year, a new start.

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

I have been very bad at blogging lately, but I’ve had a rather bad go at things. I’ve been attacked at work to the point of quitting to save my sanity, I’ve rescued yet another cat (yes, that’s eight now) and I’ve finally come to grips with reality. I’m doing a job that I’ve always dreaded, but I’m really trying to find positives in the daily grind.

Most importantly, however, I’m finally embracing all my oddities and cultivating them. My “eccentricities” have often been my downfall. I no longer care what other people think. I always thought that I’d been doing that already, but now… the gloves are off. I’m not hiding anything anymore. I’m going to be me, no matter who I meet.

I AM the Witch of South Mountain. I am here! Today is my day! I raise a glass to all who read this. Drink up witches. Today we ride!

Reinvention

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

Over the last year, a lot of changes have occurred. I didn’t even blog, because I didn’t know what to write. I wrote a short story that I toyed with turning into a novel. I’ve not done much with either one. I finally got a job, doing something I never, ever, thought I’d do… let alone enjoy. It’s not quite enough to pay the mortgage, but it’s more than I’ve had in the last four years. At least it’s there. It’s real. It’s reliable.

I accepted more of myself and embraced my weirdness. I bought my dream car. Her name is Lucille, and she’s a hearse. I expanded my skeleton family. They are a perfect little family, despite the missing limbs and the fact that they are dead.

Some bad relationships turned good, some good relationships turned bad. I tried to tune out the toxic influences. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes not. I met some awesome new people in my job, and found a new family member that had been long lost.

I relied very heavily on my cats to keep my sane. I spent the better part of the last year doubting myself. Questioning myself. Disliking myself. They kept me grounded. They kept me here.

I’ve started to write a bit more again. I’m even going to be published, since I helped my saner half write a short story. I’m immersing myself in the beauty of the world though photography. I am hoping to carve again this year.

So far, 2018 is stirring up a lot of memories… especially from one of my worst years ever (2013). It’s not going to be an easy year, but I’ll get through it. One way or another. I’ll return here too, and vent to whomever reads this. If no one does, that’s okay too. At least I will have spoken.

What the…

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up on a bus that is packed full of young, well-dressed party-goers, and you’re in nothing but a fluffy bathrobe with a towel tied around your head? And it’s night time? And it’s New Year’s Eve? I was, two nights ago. Or at least I dreamed it. It was terrifying, because everyone was trying to peek under my bathrobe to see how fat I was. And then a man got on and handed everyone a piece of paper. It was a terrorist attack, and only half of the people on the bus would survive, based on what was written on the paper handed them. Mine said simply, “Die.”

I managed to flee the bus before it was set on fire, only to find myself in a mall. It’s one that I have been to many times, but never physically. I’m not sure it even exists. But I recognized it, nonetheless. I had to get to the other side of the mall, which (unlike other visits here) was also at the base of a very fancy hotel that was right on the ocean. I kept stopping to try to take pictures of the sunset from the scenic lookout rooms that were located at regular intervals. Every time I got to the far end of the mall, I was forced to exit and ended up right back where I entered it in the first place, with the bus still burning in the background. It was quite infuriating. At least on second entry I was clothed, although I can’t for the life of me figure out why I was wearing heels…

I must have walked the length of that friggin’ mall eight times.* Each time, I was still trying to take pictures, but every time I tried, a tsunami-worthy wave kept sweeping closer and closer, blocking the beautiful colours of the sunset. No one was concerned about the wave, however, so I kept going. The final time I walked it’s length, it was 11:30 and I had to find friends, or I’d be alone to start the year. I found the restaurant where everyone was, but it was being transformed into a fancy theatrical performance and I didn’t have a ticket. I exited the mall, one last time, and I ended up ringing in the new year, alone, wandering a dusty, dirt road (nowhere near an ocean) in daylight (even though it was midnight) looking for a patio.

And then it got strange…

*For the record, I hate malls. This part was equally as disturbing as the terrorist threat.

Where has the time gone?

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

It’s been four months since I blogged. I find that very distressing. So much has happened in four months, yet nothing has changed. I have so much to say, but no words will come. I gained stability, only to lose it again. I survived yet another long dark, with a great deal of support from my familiars. I look forward to regenerating my soul with nature as the green man continues to battle towards spring. Hopefully, soon, the words will come once more.

Today, I met my hero.

Posted on by The Witch of South Mountain

It has been a long time since I’ve blogged. I think the main reason is that I have felt like I haven’t had anything to say. Today, that changed. Today, I met my hero.

It’s not the first time we’ve met, but today… today we really talked to each other, and she became my hero. She doesn’t know this, but she will. We didn’t talk about ALL THE THINGS, but we talked about enough things.

I’ve been through some pretty shitty things in my life. She has “been there, done that” with almost all of mine, and then some (times 100,000). But she’s not arrogant about it. She’s just awesome. I have always had a habit of letting the bad things get to me, and bring me down. I let them control me. She’s had so many things try to tear her down, and she still gets up, smiles, and says “bring it on motherfucker!”. This is what I want to be.

I’m not going to let this woman slip away from my life. She’s too awesome for words. She’s inspirational. She makes me want to be a better me. I am going to try to learn from the things she shares and suggests, and try to make myself better, stronger, a little bit at a time.

I apologize, in advance, to my family and friends. In the last few years, with the unemployment and negative shit that has bombarded me from all sides, I lost myself. But today… things have changed.

The Witch is back.