Detours

I took a detour.

It’s amazing how distant and yet how close August still feels. It’s amazing how much can transpire in such a short time. The theme of summer was buzzing in preparation for the Faerieworlds event that Jesse and I attended last summer and had been looking forward to all year. I had been counting down the months, planning my outfits, giggling in anticipation. This year, we got to camp so I had much to look forward to. The best part was the plans we had to grab Violet for the last day of the event so she too could experience the faerie magic I had been wanting to show her. Finally, the day arrived for us to pack our gear into Jesse’s Jeep Wrangler and head into another realm.

Travel and arrival took a little longer than expected, but we still arrived in decent time. I had purchased a 12-man tent with 3 rooms (yes, just for the two of us), and was excited to set up and get dressed for fun. Jesse and I both opened the tent carefully, unpacked every piece, and assembled it. Once it was together, we saw that the rain cover and room dividers were missing. We checked inside to look around. Everything was laid out and stretched flat, with no sight of the missing items. Naturally, I was beyond annoyed. I knew we should have done a test-pitch before we needed it, but it was too late now. Both of us feeling irritated, we decided to find a store in the nearest town where we could at least acquire a tarp for the weekend. I would have to write to the tent company later to see about the missing parts. I was not about to let the weekend spoil over something so silly!

We got back in the Jeep, I turned on my GPS, and we looked for a store. Per my map, there was one about 8.5 miles away or so.

GPS was wrong.

I’m sure we had gone well over ten miles on very curvy, very wet, forest road under sprinkle of continuous rain when we realized that my GPS might not have been totally honest with us. We continued onward, Jesse driving slowly, enjoying the scenery. Then, after several sharp turns, we were met with another. This time, it was too sharp and we couldn’t stop.

Some of it is blurry, but I clearly remember the slide toward the edge of the road and the bump. I remember Jesse slamming the breaks. I remember going over the edge. I remember screaming. Down, down, down, we crashed. Through trees, over rock and rubble, the force seemed unstoppable. We tipped onto the driver’s side momentarily, shocking me into flashbacks of how my dear friend Andrew looked after the accident that had scalped him and almost took his life six years ago. I thought about Violet. I thought about my cancer and how it couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t.

And then we crashed to a halt.

There we were, after a good 50 foot-or-so, very steep slide. Upright. Unharmed. Alive.

Alive.

I can tell you right now, that in any other vehicle, we would not have made it. As we sat there in shock for a moment, broken beer bottles soaked the back seat and some of our belongings. I looked back to see the side where Violet normally sits crunched. I looked at Jesse. He was okay. Dazed, we climbed from the wreckage and began the steep climb back to the road between my fits of shaking and frantic tears. When we reached the top, even though I am now a non-smoker, we both went for the pack, no questions asked. When Jesse made mention of being glad that Violet was not with us, I lost it. Something terrible had happened, but it could have very easily been so much worse. My girl was safe with her father and there I was with Jesse at the side of a lonely and dangerous road, feeling everything imaginable, including the presence of George. My baby brother was watching out for us, and perhaps someone else too.

I called 911 and help was sent our way. As we paced, shook, cried, hugged, babbled and marveled at the few cars who passed us without even stopping to see if we were okay (it was obvious that something terrible was happening) I guiltlessly sucked down one cigarette after another half in-denial. I was determined to have my Faerieworlds weekend. This was not going to ruin anything. A police officer showed up, and then a tow company. Since Jesse only had liability insurance, we had to fork out $250 for the tow. Ouch. It took a bit of work, and resulted in the tow truck needing a bit of its own servicing. The Jeep’s hard top was crunched on the rear driver’s side and the front passenger tire was thrashed. We put on the spare and…the damn thing still worked!!! Yes, we climbed, walked, and then DROVE from an accident that I was almost certain was going to claim us.

I feel that now it is fair to say that whereas before Jesse and I were indifferent about Jeeps in general, we are now staunch Jeep enthusiasts.

We were cold, shaken, shocked, and ready to just get back to the weekend. We figured we deserved to enjoy it after escaping the way we did. We traveled the rest of the way to the store we needed (it was more like 20 miles…THANKS, GPS). We made our purchases, including an extra tarp and duct tape to cover the top of the Jeep and slowly…very, very slowly…made our way back along the winding road, vowing never to come that way again.  

Photos by Jesse Lanier

While I had initially been adamant about participating in the opening spiral dance that I had missed previously, I was now okay with just being there. We made our way back to our partially set-up tent and I stepped inside.

Now remember, the missing pieces that had forced our perilous detour had ben NOWHERE to be seen inside or outside the tent. Upon stepping inside to assess the situation, the flat, stretched floor we had left behind was now raised at the center. We lifted the tent and reached beneath, pulling out…you guessed it. The missing pieces were RIGHT THERE. RIGHT FUCKING THERE!!! They had NOT been there before we left. That tent was pitched, tight, and flat. There was nothing…NOTHING to indicate anything beneath it. We had set it up and walked in it. It was flat. There was nothing. And yet, here we were. Nothing had become SOMETHING.

We enjoyed the weekend, though I had been over enthusiastic in my initial celebrations of you know, not dying, and drank too much. This caused me to spend most of Saturday in the tent, feeling like crap. Then back issues from the accident surfaced and I had to spend some time in the medic tent getting fluids and morphine. Oops. Lesson learned. I was glad that I got to enjoy my favorite performers of the Weekend. We had seen Wardruna the previous year and even attended Einar Selvik’s seminars on runes and things of the ancient Norse world. This year we missed out on the seminars, but were enthusiastically present for their second-ever US performance. They delivered last year. This year, they outdid themselves.

Photo by Jesse Lanier

Sunday was special to me because Violet got to be there. We headed back home that morning to meet with her father and get her ready. We had him follow us in his vehicle with Violet (since the Jeep is not safe for her until we get it fixed) and paid his admission. Violet was free. I got to show my girl the world of Faerie as can only be done in such an enchanted place. I even got to introduce her to Einar. I had hoped to meet Lindy-Fay Hella as well, but sadly missed out.

My little faerie and I danced by the stage to Delhi 2 Dublin. I bought her a flower hat and matching wand for her faerie costume. She explored with her dad. Jesse took pictures of us together. Then she went home and I was left with a mixture of gratitude for the dances we shared and a longing for more magic with my girl. The weekend had not been perfect, but it had perfect moments. We left before the last act and wearily made our way home to recover and rebuild.

 Photos by Jesse Lanier

The back pain persisted and since my spine is one of the places my cancer has taken up residence, I felt it would be wise to see my oncologist and request some scans. I had also started with a new therapist and felt seeing her would be beneficial as well. Since the beginning of summer, I had been experiencing some disturbing thoughts and emotions. Things from my upbringing I thought I’d reconciled were surfacing in strange and painful ways and I had also begun to relive the traumas of the summer before…the dark summer. The one I almost didn’t survive. Suddenly I found myself in mental and emotional chaos and I couldn’t understand why. My car wasn’t working and Jesse’s was now no longer fit to transport Violet, so I couldn’t get her to karate or myself to Krav Maga. The apartment was turning into a trap I couldn’t escape from. So many old traumas were surfacing and my coping mechanisms were beginning to fail. I couldn’t understand it.

What was triggering all this madness? Part of it I know was from Jesse’s Narcissistic ex refusing to leave him alone. After a decade of suffering and having no access to his own friends or family, he had become unable to cut her off. Being a survivor of abuse myself, this was beginning to trigger other things in me on top of the rage I already felt for what she had done to him. Her continued manipulation of him bore into my psyche like a white-hot drill bit. I had taken the stance of not telling him he couldn’t talk to her as I do not believe in controlling others, even though I had tried multiple times to explain to him that you cannot recover from narcissistic abuse if you don’t sever ties with your abuser. I tried to help him understand how dangerous talking to her was, but he only got defensive. I understood as best I could, but Narcissistic Personality Disorder is dangerous. Stockholm Syndrome is very real and very ugly. My reasoning and explanations fell on deaf ears, or so it seemed. Finally, on one of my many phone calls from him during work (the wonderful man called me on every break and every lunch just to talk), I was in a bad downward spiral. My mind and emotions were in complete chaos. I felt like I was unraveling. He sounded worried and helpless. He said he wanted to help me but he didn’t know how. So, I finally had to say it. I told him that it would help me if he would stop talking to his ex. I didn’t want to make any ultimatums. I didn’t want to make demands. I just couldn’t handle knowing that the person who damn near destroyed the man I love wasn’t going to go away. I couldn’t handle knowing that she was still using him as an energy source and he didn’t see it. I was going mad. I broke down. I let him know that I couldn’t take it.

Later that day, he informed me that he had severed ties. Yes, I believe him. I felt a rush of immense relief…and guilt. While I knew that things were going to get better, part of me felt like a horrible and manipulative person. I thanked him and apologized to him profusely all at once. I told him why I felt guilty and I promised him that he will finally start to heal for good. So far, it seems I was right. He is less guarded. He is learning how to be himself again, and oh how beautiful he is! I just hope I don’t get in too much trouble for this post. I might. Almost no one knows the truth. She is the textbook Narcissist: very popular and adored. No one knows what she is and few would believe me if I told them. I fear for her current partner who is already showing signs of her abuse, but there is nothing I can do. I didn’t write this to “out” her. I’m writing it for my own healing and while I am not interested in slander, I won’t go out of my way to protect her cover either (though I doubt any of her acolytes will see this anyway). I just hope her current victim gets some help before it’s too late. Her psychological abuse had left Jesse a shell when he first came back into my life. One giant PTSD-triggering issue was now resolved (the diagnosis is still unofficial, but highly likely). I was already breathing more easily. Now I could start to focus on why this was happening and take steps to get my mental health under control, as well as make sure I was doing okay physically.

I got in to see my plastic surgeon first to make sure that none of his work had been damaged in the accident. It is holding up fine, thank goodness, and we scheduled for my next surgery just to even things up a little (one implant is too big and I need a few more fat injections on the other side). Things seemed good there, and it’s always wonderful to see Dr. Gabriel and his staff. Then I saw my Oncologist, Dr. Smith. She agreed that it was time for scans anyway, so we set those up and I went in. I wasn’t terribly worried about the results. I just wanted to be sure my back was okay. I got more information than I wanted with the results.

The cancer has grown in the places it already was and has now moved into my abdomen.

I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready to learn that it was time to go back on chemotherapy. I couldn’t be on the losing side. I couldn’t let it get the upper-hand. No. Just, no. It was too much. I began to feel that same old fear and despair creep into my veins, sharp and icy. No. Please, no. I think I lost my mind for a while. My Facebook posts were dark and angry. I began to spew my turmoil all over social media, unable to stop myself. I’m sure I put quite a few people off.

Bitterly, I accepted the situation, and I started my chemotherapy pills. Then a couple of weeks ago, I found myself being hauled off to the hospital via ambulance, unable to breathe, with a plummeting pulse.

No. Not this again. No, please. No.

I’ve lost track of how long exactly, but over just about a two-week period (I believe), I spent less than four days at home. I’d be hauled in, stay one or two nights, come home for a day or so, then wake up gasping for air and collapsing, having to do it all again. The worst morning was the one in which Violet had to bear witness to it. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to understand enough to be afraid or sad. I just didn’t want her to see it. That was my last trip in and it was bad. What I remember was very unpleasant and terrifying. After hours in and out of consciousness in the ER, I was placed in ICU for a night (my second ICU stay in this series of visits). By next morning I was doing well enough that they felt I could be in the general building. So, I essentially lived at the hospital for a couple of weeks. My friend Sarah, who is mine and Daryll’s chosen guardian for Violet in the worst-case-scenario and mother to Violet’s best friend, stepped in to care for her. Daryll’s diabetes has had him unable to care for her for more than a night or so at a time over the past few weeks. I’m glad Sarah was there. I’m glad my baby was in good hands.

Photos from my Instagram

During all of this, I grew more and more depressed about being unable to be with Violet and be at home with Jesse. While I was struggling with my emotions, his job fired him for taking time away to care for me. Yes, that is why they did it and his boss even stated as much publicly under one of Jesse’s Facebook posts about getting fired. Some other stuff happened there. We may be considering whether we can take legal action, but right now things are still settling.

Once I was finally able to be home for real, it took a while to get myself back. Today marks one week and one day out of the hospital. I was in a dark place emotionally, and cried frequently over missing Violet since we decided not to have her home until we were sure I was stable. Finally, Jesse and I took a friend’s advice and watched “The Secret” on Netflix. I was just what I needed. It’s time to end the brooding and start building positive energy back up. It’s time to be hopeful and happy. Does it take work? Oh yes. Yes it does. I am determined, though. Does this mean I’m not allowed to have bad days? Of course not! However, the time has come to focus, really focus, on building an overall better emotional state. Attitude is everything and I shall remain mindful of mine. It helps tremendously that as of today, my car is up and running again. This means I can get Violet back to Karate and myself back to Krav Maga. I’ve weathered the shitstorm with Jesse by my side. My babygirl is home with me again. It’s like having my heart returned to me after a long absence. Now it’s time to relax into the flow of things getting better. Sometimes, you just have to take a few detours, that’s all.