Tag: grief

  • “thirsty ghost”

    you lived thirsty
    you wanted to set yourself on
    fire – and in the end, you succeeded
    in glorious, standing room only effigy
    planned to the last detail
    as only you could do

    I sang at your funeral
    but it never quite felt like the end
    I carried all the crushing weight of you
    when it felt like the sun went out
    and I’ve been stumbling through the dark
    for the past ten years
    when it seemed like the rest of the world
    couldn’t wait for both of us to die

    I’ve persisted
    a devil’s bargain but one I’d take again
    and again
    just to get to spit in their smug fucking faces
    (or on their graves) and tell them that in the end
    even you didn’t get to define me and
    they, especially don’t get to twist your memory into
    a weapon to cut, sear, break, or peel me into their
    image

    I did that myself
    I shattered myself into the form I desired
    my body became a war torn land the rest of the
    world forgot
    I swore to make them remember
    I peeled layers upon layers of self
    from this soul
    I added more and removed them again
    I fit seven lifetimes into these twenty eight year
    old ancient bones
    I broke the fuck out of my slowly failing heart
    if you had truly known me
    would you be proud?

    or maybe I joined you in the afterlife
    maybe this is hell
    maybe all the devils are here
    maybe I’ve always been empty

    -Allēna 3/15/2026

  • Hi, I (Allēna) am back in front and low-key panicking…

    I know that the people who know me will probably be like “what else is new” but I’ve honestly been so hung up on the fact that it’s been ten years since Xavier died this month that I forgot that all of the albums that I wrote and recorded in the wake of losing him will also be turning 10 as well until I saw a video of my Painter Guy headmate playing my arrangement of “Heroes” by David Bowie on a piano he found in the hospital we go to??? So that’s kinda fucking me up.

    I honestly didn’t think I would live this long. I know a lot of people when I was 18-19 certainly didn’t think I would live this long (I was a hot fuckin mess and it took me years to get out of that tailspin) so while I’m none too happy about having to figure out how to promote a metric fuckton of albums on what is soon to be the ten year anniversary of their release, I am also trying to be compassionate toward tiny grieving past Lēna and keep in mind that I didn’t have a blessed clue that I would live to see 28-29, my depression was so goddamn bad and I was constantly trying to blot myself off the face of the Earth and writing albums instead of doing worse dumb shit. As badly as I want to go back and kick Past Lēna and to some extent, Past Eight in the ‘nads for writing and recording music like they were running out of time in 2016-17, they really didn’t know what the fuck else to do and had just lost Xavier. So I can’t really be all that angry. That being said, a bitch is fucking tired and I don’t have anything close to a promotion strategy for any of this shit. I don’t even have regular access to a piano anymore.

    So yeah. There is all of that to contend with.

    Wish me mother fucking luck.

    -Allēna

  • I have no idea how Allēna has kept it together for so long.

    I’ve been frontstuck for the past two days and I don’t know how she can front for weeks to months at a time. This is the longest I’ve been in front in about 17 years that I can recall, and the longer it goes on, the more painful it becomes.

    There is so much I’ve missed. I’ve been on an island in headspace that Kalla built some years ago that I call Little Patmos trying to make sense of Eight’s insane ramblings, prophecies, and dreams from his tenure as host while the others got out from under Zelda because I knew some shit was going down and I didn’t want to be present for it. That’s been my escape strategy for over the past decade and a half.

    I never thought that at any point, I would be the only able or willing fronter. There were too many of us, I thought. Surely Lazarus would be willing to front before I would have to.

    But no..

    Two days ago, I woke up in front. Peri was carrying a rather large gun, dressed like Sir Integra from the anime Hellsing Ultimate. She has staunchly refused to front, citing some threat she’s unwilling to disclose.

    Australis, a new arrival in my absence, looked like he’d seen a ghost.

    Tristan and Theo have both been more concerned with other matters rather than fronting. That leaves me as the only fronter currently anywhere close to headspace as well as acting host until Allēna comes back from wherever she is.

    I’ve been slowly coming to grips with the fact that Allēna and Eight especially have accomplished everything I wanted to do in life multiple times over, Zelda, the first person who could touch me and it not hurt long term in years, used us up and threw us away, and we are now legally married for the second time.

    I have no idea who I am anymore. I barely have a sense of where I am. I feel like a fucking shell. If we were still drinking, I would be shitfaced under some table right now. But I am not going to do that, as tempting as it sounds.

    Here’s to self discovery, I suppose?

    And Zelda, if you’re still keeping up with this blog, go fuck yourself. Better yet, don’t. I hope no one ever touches you again, you piece of shit. I know I got back with you last summer, but I regret that decision every day. Allēna deserved better. I deserved better. Emerson and Beany definitely deserved better. Everyone you’ve ever talked shit about deserved better. I’ll see you in hell.

    I’m going to go try and get some sleep once I’m done crying.

    -Castor

  • I wrote this at the poetry workshop today. It’s called “strange entanglement”.

    I love you in a way you cannot love yourself
    in a twice divorced, second wife way that never happened, you want me so bad you don’t care
    if your chokehold love is killing me
    and I think it would kill you to stop pretending
    I think it would kill you to let me go
    even if it would save my life
    you call me wife and spouse and leave me
    screaming, but
    when I touched you that night I think we
    both knew it was over
    and I was grieving, I have been grieving
    and you don’t know how, you never did

    one time, you took me out to eat
    and everyone in the restaurant gathered to you
    like flies on a carcass
    I’d always wanted to be invisible, forgotten
    but not like that

    when we met you said you’d been wandering
    since before sunrise, trying to stay out of the
    house and away from your partner at the time
    it had been at least seven hours and you
    were covered in sweat
    as you spilled all the things you thought you
    wouldn’t there to me
    at that table

    it’s been three years of riding as a pair of ghosts
    you’ve never stopped wandering
    and I’m very talented at grieving
    it’s practically one of my best friends now
    I never thought I’d have to waste so much
    of my youth grieving for the living
    grieving for myself
    grieving for you

    -Allēna 10/19/2025

  • Apologies in advance if I am distant or bitchy for the next yes.

    Got some absolutely garbage news these past couple days. I feel like I’ve gone through a really bad breakup even though I haven’t. I’m badly in need of a distraction so I don’t spiral further. I’ll probably be watching my shows and/or working my ass off on my art and/or crying. -Allēna

  • The world is a lot right now.

    In all honesty, our phone is on Do Not Disturb to avoid the constant onslaught of news and we are messaging very few people to preserve spoons.

    One of us (I forget who) saw a post a few days ago that talked about how a therapist was saying that a desire to build an off grid self sustaining farm and never come back to society was a manifestation of exhaustion and burnout, and whoever it was felt so called out that they almost started crying.

    You don’t say that it’s a manifestation of exhaustion and fucking burnout, anonymous therapist! Society is fucking exhausting! Why do you think I rarely front around most people? They fucking exhaust me and burn me out!

    I would do unholy things for an off grid, self sustaining farm if this body weren’t fucking allergic to the outdoors.

    I know my body couldn’t handle the work to maintain it, let alone the lack of infrastructure, etc., and that  fucking kills me. So I settle for being a housebound art gremlin in the city with hopefully half decent OpSec.

    No amount of money can fix this particular yearning of ours, sadly. What’s the point of having money to buy land for a self sustaining farm if you can’t fucking work the farm without killing yourself? And what’s the point in having money for a farm even if other people you love lived on it with you if you can’t go outside eighty percent of the year to enjoy it? Even if I wanted to simply sit outside, it would hurt me too badly for most of the year than the enjoyment would be worth.

    Unfortunately, we’re learning our limits, and that comes with a fair amount of grief.

    Fuck. This hurts. This hurts so bad.

    I’m gonna go grab a snack and nap or make art or something.

    -Castor

  • Damn it, River.

    My fucking headmate thought it was an excellent and hilarious fucking idea to schedule a neurologist appointment on the day our father died of brain cancer nine years prior and then make me handle it. At least Lazarus had the fucking foresight to get it switched to a virtual appointment several damn days ago so I didn’t have to go anywhere.

    I’m never letting Mr. Batshit For Brainholes schedule anything ever again. This wasn’t fucking funny.

    But at least we have that out of the way, and an EEG is scheduled for February 18. They might strobe the fuck out of our brainhole during that, so brace yourselves for utterly batshit post seizure posts from us truly. 😭

    Fun fucking times. Thank you, Lazarus, for your excellent harm reduction work. At least you didn’t try to punk me for once.

    I somehow summoned the energy (likely due to sheer irritation at River’s bullshit idea of a joke) to put clothes on and then shave my face later, so have selfies in honor of this most dubious occasion.

    My left hand does whatever the fuck it wants, I guess. But at least this was a nice bit of gender euphoria today.

    Once more, with my entire ass, FUCK YOU, RIVER.

    -Allēna

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  • We might not be super active today.

    It’s February 5th here, the day our dad, Xavier, died, nine years ago. I woke up a few hours ago, blinked, realized what day it was, thought about all the bullshit going on in the world, thought “Nope”, and went right the fuck back to sleep for another several hours.

    Xavier was known for both hibernating through the winters, trying his damnedest to get me to rest, and treating himself and everyone he loved. I think this is what he would have wanted.

    Sláinte, Dad. This day of rest is for you. I’m trying. I really am.

    -Allēna

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  • Lost In Time And Space

    Hey, everyone. This is Lazarus, once again. As I write this, I’m sitting on my apartment’s balcony space so that I can get a bit of fresh air. At Emerson’s suggestion, I took today largely away from the Internet to clear my head, but it seems to have made me sadder, albeit less anxious. I’ve spent a great portion of today deep in my head strategizing and things, but I feel disconnected from the world in a not so pleasant way, sort of like I’m lost in space and time. So if I am going to go all in on disconnecting, I think I need to make a better plan so that it doesn’t make me feel worse and adrift. So now I’m drafting a blog post in my notes app that I will post when I come back online again. 

    I shuffled through a deck of prompts that Emerson has, and found one that is going to be a doozy to contemplate and write about, but I think ought to be addressed head on anyway. It goes a bit like this: “Wonderland: You always have your imagination. What is something that you want to achieve, but probably never will?” I know I’m probably not quoting the prompt verbatim, as usual, but it gets the point across, I think. I’m also probably going to cry as I write this, in all honesty. 

    I would love to be abled, or at least accommodated to such an extent that I could function enough that I could do a great deal more. I know that’s probably the remainder of my hyper independence talking, but I grieve what I used to be able to do every day. I hold my need for rest and greater peace and my fervent wishes for greater independence, to contribute more, to push past what is holding me back, and to build bigger and greater things simultaneously and I try every day to let the peace and rest win because I know that ultimately that is the only way I will be able to contribute more. 

    I can’t do anything meaningful if I’m running on fumes and pushing myself to the point where I’m very nearly dead. It’s a strange paradox that I tend to ignore when I’m anxious, angry, and/or craving movement and release. I can only really see the nuance and appreciate the paradoxical nature of healing and the true way forward when I’m calm and able to recharge myself. But still, I grieve. I miss what I was able to do before illnesses, trauma, and injuries took all of my independence away from me, however unhealthy and against true human nature it actually was. 

    I keep having to remind myself through all of this that my rest and the creative work I’m doing is still an action, that even though it looks like I am doing nothing, it’s still an action, it’s still a choice. I’m still doing something. 

    Even when I’m doing research, writing, or art from bed or sitting down, I’m still doing something. I’m never doing nothing. Reframing my perspective around rest, art, and leisure from doing nothing to doing something has helped improve my quality of life and mental health a great deal. 

    And when I keep that perspective in mind, it has helped me relax a great deal more and make rest and leisure a much easier and less anxiety inducing choice to make, as I often have to fight my anxiety, which paralyzes me when it comes time to rest because I feel as though I have done nothing all day even when that simply isn’t true. I’m resting, an action. I’m making art, an action. I’m watching TV, an action. I’m talking to my partners and friends, an action. I am cuddling my cats, an action. I’m blogging, an action. I’m doing medical research, an action. When I think about my behavior that way, it becomes far less paralyzing to do…anything because in my mind, all actions start to carry equal weight, no matter what they are, because they all carry an element of conscious choice and autonomy, and none of them are nothing. 

    They may have different impacts and implications on the people and situations around me, and I can change my behavior accordingly based on what I observe, but none of it is meaningless. It also does wonders for my perfectionism when I keep that in mind, which is also rooted in anxiety. I just need to work on keeping that in mind… 

    Speaking of research, I may have made a breakthrough last night. I have been experiencing a great deal of numbness in my right hand and on the sides of my face particularly the right side, as well as fatigue, which drinking saltwater or eating salty food almost immediately resolves. I’ve also had shitty circulation for most of my life. So I started wondering due to a longtime suspicion that I have postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome or POTS, that my blood pressure might be low running low regardless of how my body is positioned due to severe and prolonged stress and heart damage. 

    So I did a bit of research last night that tentatively confirms that theory. It also gave me a new theory that my blood pressure dipping especially low in the mid to late afternoons into the nighttime is causing severe fatigue that’s gotten worse as the temperature has started falling as winter approaches. Time for new experiments! 

    That being said, the vitamin B is still massively improving my mental health at a baseline, and likely keeping my blood pressure at a lower level than it would be normally since it is normalizing my mental health and keeping me more stable than I would be without it. So I wonder if I need to start making feta cheese a staple of my diet like I did when I was younger. Feta is about the saltiest thing known to man, second only to a rock of salt itself or possibly brine. I love feta cheese. So let this be a public service announcement to any suitors or partners looking to win my heart or make our relationship even better – load me up with that good shit. It’s my favorite, and it may literally improve my health in the process 💛 

    Yay for doing health shit myself! I think that’s enough pondering the mysteries of the universe or at least the human body for the day. Stay tuned for more magic, y’all. I’ll be around. 

    Your (not salty enough) sorcerer, Lazarus 

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  • At Heavy Cost

    I came across this Thread by Nate Postlethwait and wanted to write about healing and freedom as a victory won at heavy cost because it got me thinking.

    Hey, everyone. Allēna here. This post will be a heavy one, but I want to write it even though I know it’s gonna hurt. I’ve spent years praised for my emotional strength and resilience when all I wanted was to be safe. Lately I’ve been deep in contemplation about that very thing and in conversation with several people about this and related issues myself and my system have been having. Then I came across this Thread and wanted to answer the question Nate poses for you so that you can see the true, extremely heavy cost of resilience and “strength” as most people define it. Don’t get me wrong, healing has been costly, too. But trying to be hard and guarded costs far more than healing ever has.

    My Headmates and I Have Spoken About Some Of The Things That Happened To Us And How We Got Through Them, But What Did We Lose In The Process? Trust, for One.

    The first thing that comes to mind is the ability to trust. System wide, we struggle to trust and are actually diagnosed agoraphobes as of 2021. It’s complete and utter hell. Our trauma taught us that we are the only ones that we can truly rely on at the end of the day, and that everyone has a price. Some people’s prices are simply higher than others. Everyone will fail us eventually in some way. After twenty some odd years of that horseshit, while we care about people deeply and want to connect with them, we don’t truly remember how to, at least not without soul-deep fear. That strength, that mysterious nature you supposedly see in us is visceral terror. We ache to connect with people, we love them, but often can’t because the fear is so exhausting that we get too tired to even leave the house. Talk about a fucking heavy cost. Some people have managed to prove these beliefs wrong, but it’s an uphill battle for everyone involved and we would give anything for the ability to trust back.

    We Also Lost The Little Health We Had Left

    Relatedly, due to repeated betrayals and us being too afraid to ask for help, we stressed the body out to the point of chronic illness and severe fatigue. We’ve gotten better at firing ourselves as we’ve healed, but by that point, the damage was already long done. We should have asked for help a long time ago, and we should have had people who made it safe to ask. But we didn’t, so we internalized the idea that the only way we would ever get anything for ourselves in this world was if we got it done on our own without help. That belief and the subsequent actions we took made us very, very sick. This has turned into an ugly, compounding downward spiral we’re still trying to work out way out of gently years later that I wouldn’t wish on damn near anyone. What doesn’t kill you does not, in fact, make you stronger. Ultimately, it tends to make you wish it had finished the fucking job and give you a fuck ton to mourn in therapy.

    It Has As Also Cost Us Relationships And Opportunities

    Due to the agoraphobia and exhaustion, we’ve had to back out of a lot that we truly didn’t want leave behind. It sidelines us a lot. We have to rest a great deal and has forced us to be nocturnal because we’ve developed a medical mystery of a chronic illness due to the stress on the house body that makes us very sick and physically weak if we are exposed to heat and sunlight for any length of time whatsoever. We will literally collapse if we aren’t careful. As such, even if we weren’t terrified of people, that severely limits our options for a lot and we miss out almost daily. It’s horribly sad. We miss the sunlight on our skin, traveling, and going out with friends. We don’t want to be stuck at home all the time.

    Conversely, we also struggle in close relationships because of how guarded we are. The guardedness is absolutely a trauma response and comes with fun side helpings of anger, depression, and occasional impulsivity. We struggle with vulnerability and detest anything that even smells like control or manipulation and will fight hard for our autonomy even if there’s no reason to. We’re constantly on edge unless we’re completely alone. We’ve lost a lot of people because of our anger and inability to be vulnerable. We’re working on healing all of that now, but I wish we had never been forced into this position at all. So in a life of battles won at heavy cost, ultimately the heaviest cost of the supposed strength you see is our peace. All we ever wanted from the time we were young was to be kept safe and a life of peace, and we never got that until we began healing.

    Final Thoughts

    We still have a long way to go. Nobody’s perfect, especially not us cockroach motherfuckers. But something my system and I have learned over the years is that doing our best to feel and be kind and to keep an open heart and mind despite all the bullshit and trauma is true strength, not trauma responses and guardedness. Long term therapy with a therapist who’s no-bullshit like us has helped, as well as running our life like a meritocracy. If people show up for us consistently and show genuine respect for us and our boundaries, we open up more to them over time and let them in more and more. It’s a great way to ease both the body and the system into vulnerability and to make sure that the other person’s intentions are genuine.

    If you’re traumatized like us, I understand that it’s a motherfucking struggle. I get that it hurts every goddamned day. You must have lost so much. My heart and empathy goes out to you. I hope you get rest and ease soon, my friend.

    As always, stay tuned for more magic!

    -Allēna, Super-Admin