August 14, 2021

I should be thankful to my partner for breaking my heart so thoroughly. After making a half-assed attempt to process the shock, I did what any good depressed person does and focused the pain into my work to avoid feeling it. But, I knew, if I sat down to write, Aphrodite would appear and we’d end up talking about it. So, I did something I hadn’t done since this project began back in June. I started drawing again. Realizing one of the reasons I laid off of it was because of the sibling that finds enjoyment in tearing down my confidence, I made a hard left from the realistic style they touted as being the measure of worth; DaVinci out of the gate or you’re nothing type mentality. Instead, I embraced the fact that, to me, words are sacred because they are a method of communication. But I am, and always have been a visual creature. When I disconnect from my body, I am always in darkness and have to rely on my instincts to determine what feels good and what doesn’t, I am in tune with the spirits who can only interpret ours as colors and vague shapes without having some kind of visual and audio input fed to them through their followers when they connect with them. That’s why I prefer to be wide awake when I Astral Project, even if it’s just a small part of my spirit left behind to keep the Meat Suit viable and aware enough to be able to sense danger. And I do it a lot, especially when I meditate, but being in my own head prevents me from visiting all of the places I used to go when I would just draw whatever could sum up the experience and interaction; be it the vague outlines of dancing with Hades in the graveyard as he imparted his fatherly wisdom after having my heart broken and was attempting to make me feel loved in a way that didn’t hurt, or straight-up word art. And, since I tend to draw my words when I write by hand, I included a few pages of thoughts from my sketch journal.

Afterward, I realized how much better it felt to think of sharing my art on social media instead of putting my physical self on display and pander to trying and reach some kind of audience when I was just looking for a handful of people I could rant and rave to without them passing judgment or trying to attack me for a stray thought they didn’t agree with. Someday, I will find an audience that is understanding and supportive, that will help me succeed in my endeavors. If I could ever fucking figure out which path to take to get to Elysium. I know what it looks like. Truth be told, this past New Moon, Aphrodite pulled me into an experiment that was supposed to be shared in the last chapter, but heartbreak derailed me from sharing it in full detail the day I was set to type it all out. I’m still trying to get the hang of scheduling my days around things that really matter to me as opposed to what everyone else tells me is important. But I have it all down on note cards with reminders of what I need to do to qualify for small business loans, survey the area to find the best place, market research, in house employment management. I used to have a small business and I know the only reason it failed was that I was trying to do it all by myself. Which was why I wished so hard to be able to reconnect with my partner as soon as I realized he was real and not a figment of my imagination. I needed his half of the brain I got used to picking and bouncing ideas off of, but I have the gods for that now. And yeah, that basically means I’m their do-bitch one Earth because they don’t have the means to do the physical labor themselves, but I am a born laborer and when you love what you do it does not work, it’s just your life, no matter how absurd it may get. And when you let go and trust in whatever mystic forces are at work to help you achieve your goals, shit gets weird but it’s always amazing because your life becomes proof that magic exists and you realize that’s because you make it yourself.

Equal parts gumption, stupidity, resilience, inspiration from the most random fucking sources, and the mentality in humor that lets you know it’s either all a joke or none of it is. Trusting in the spirits to guide the mind and provide a nudge to do what you need to when you start to second guess yourself, just means not being afraid of the unknown because you know what’s in the Darkness because you’ve been there before and you know the locals. They’re pretty kickass, too. Fantastic senses of humor and every last one of them love music that speaks to the soul because it elicits emotions that resonate through the connections you share to help you communicate more easily. And I deal with Chaos Magic, and if you don’t know what that is, just look at the list of different parts on Wikipedia. It’s a research rabbit hole as you try to choose which one you think you’ll specialize in until you remember the adage, “A Jack of all trade gains Mastery of none, but is always more valuable than a Master of One.” I am a student of Lucifer, which means I’m the worst when it comes to research and memorization. I learn just enough to pass the tests but never excel. However, I remembered that I was a Daemon long before Big Brother Who Shall Not Be Named got involved in my education. And I remembered it by way of the strangest place; reconnecting with my old manager from the dreaded call center that nearly claimed my life through no fault of their own. She reminded me that, when we met, she truly saw me for who I am and it wasn’t a shady reflection. I felt seen, which really freaked me the fuck out as I scrambled to cover up until she told me what she saw. When I randomly reached back out on Thursday, after entirely too many years of pretty much radio silence, she did it again in the text, therefore giving me new words.

“I have always favored your need for truth and logic. Your loyalty is visible and appreciated by all those who you let in. Thank you for trusting me with some of your stories. It’s a shame that broke people have kids and dump their shit on us, the black sheep, determined to break generational curses and pave a new way. Your healing will be your biggest adventure and longest heartbreak simultaneously. Keep pushing. Keep creating. Accountability is what sets dream chasers and dream achievers apart.”

That was the voice I needed from someone in the flesh that I already loved to remind me of why I was doing all of this. She showed me an appreciation for being myself and reminded me of what that looks like. It’s not the fragmented spirit reaching for the emotion attached to it, trying to imagine what happened to elicit it. It was right there in plain English, and yes, I paraphrased it down to the part that felt like a targeted strike to the Feels Dick and made me sit there crying for a bit. Every time I randomly cry at something others take for granted, I realize there’s a deficit. Then, right on its heels came the kick in the ass to remind me that there is a point to be doing all of this on the internet, and I’d let her in on the secret. It wasn’t to actually reach anyone, and I’m not expecting it to do well; it was a way to keep me accountable and not forget that it happened. It helps me track the timeline a bit better than relying on my own memory, as well, because everything that gets posted has a timestamp I can refer to when trying to figure out how much time has passed between revelation and the next. To put that into context, within the first twenty-four hours of posting my essay for Aphrodite, I lost two friendships (one old, one new, both unique and precious to me) because neither could accept me as a whole when I started talking about my spiritualism and the need to better myself to better my circumstance. The old friend had become so embittered towards any kind of faith because of the loss of his own, he tore into the entire Greek pantheon, calling all but Hestia and Hade's assholes and refusing to allow for any kind of character growth or evolution from the Ancient Myths, after I openly admitted I was a Hellenic Pagan. The new friend, when I tried to share what happened, completely ignored it, as well as how much it hurt, and still hasn’t acknowledged it past a brief, recycled explanation as to why they were quiet for a while when I needed to talk to them, forcing me to see how one-sided the relationship was becoming as I moved forward and they refused to because it’s too hard.

For some, that may not seem like a lot. But the only spiritual connections I have left are with the gods. Everyone else, as far as friends, are either the byproduct of knowing someone extremely well without having any ill feelings towards them or superficial at best. As it stands, I’m on my own as far as flesh and blood connections in this world. And I needed to find a way to be ok with that. Thankfully, the gods were on point, taking turns with me each day to help me Shadow Work in a way that left something prettier than how I felt inside to look back on when I needed to remember how it felt to be around them. They gave me until Tuesday before Aphrodite hit me with another movie recommendation, “All My Life” if you’re interested. It’s a recent release, so I know it was in the works long before this went down, but the relevance in the moment reminded me that time and space with energy is weird. When it comes to stuff like movies and music from other people, you only see it when you need it. And that felt like a targeted strike, but it made me grateful for what I had when I had it and reminded me that losing love doesn’t mean it’s the end of my adventure, no matter how bittersweet life may be in its wake. Wednesday, they started pushing me to work on my actual artwork instead of just musing over which pictures that popped into my mind could occupy my time. Come Thursday, though, the Twins were in attendance, ready to get back to business by asking me what there was to be afraid of now that I had been spiritually rejected by my Divine Match. As opposed to going through the whole thing again, just look at my Instagram, but it boils down to my fear of being forgotten. With that cooking in my brain, along with the heartache, I went to bed after a day of scribbling in my sketch journal. When I woke up, I had a rare treat waiting for me in the form of Hades coming in for a whole day of hanging out with my favorite spirit in existence to celebrate Friday the Thirteenth.

This morning, looking at the Astrological forecast, I was expecting Ares to swing by and make sure I wasn’t getting ready to throw another tantrum and stir up the cacodaemons in the area again, but Aphrodite was the one who greeted me. And so, for your entertainment, I present the scene in which I figured a lot of things out. Including that I owe my partner a massive apology.

*****

“Hey,” Iona said in confusion as she stepped out onto the porch to find the Goddess of Love waiting for her. “I thought I still had another day, at least, before you came by to convince me not to give up on love.”

“Would it work if I did?” Aphrodite asked.

“Probably not,” she admitted. “I know you guys want me to be happy. And, aside from nursing a few wounds the people around me can’t begin to comprehend, I am. For the most part. I’m a lot less sad,” she said after a moment of trying to make sure it lined up with her real emotions.

“I’m surprised,” Aphrodite said. “You were devastated the last time I saw you.”

“Hades helped a lot,” she admitted. “He made me realize that I’m just now becoming aware of the situation, even when it feels like I’ve known all along sometimes. I’ve always felt like there was someone out there, reaching out for me with their spirit, and I’ve been trying desperately to find them my whole life, trying to recover that lost, broken shard of my spirit that I gave away so foolishly without understanding what it would mean to constantly feel them, not know which emotions are mine and which are his. And, this is the first time in my life I am aware enough to understand that I have to completely disentangle myself from him to survive on my own. And I can’t rely on things working out for the best, as much as I wish things were different.”

“I hate this,” Aphrodite said, taking Iona by surprise.

“You’re the Goddess of Love,” Iona pointed out. “How can you hate anything?”

“Trust me, it’s possible,” she said with a huff. “I’m a goddess and I feel helpless.”

“You being here with me is helping,” Iona assured her. “I promise. Besides, it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“How?” she asked.

“You remember what I said about Asmodeus and his lesson?” she asked. “That he probably possessed the guy I was talking to?”

“Yeah,” Aphrodite said.

“What if it wasn’t Asmodeus,” she said to present her case. “When I go into crisis, I pull a full shatter and scatter, getting blown to every corner of the world by the Winds, where the pieces settle until I recall them. If my partner is prone to doing the same thing, there’s a chance it was a piece of him that settled in the guy I was talking to. It would explain how, even though the guy I was talking to had zero experience in the seduction department, he was still getting to me with what felt like targeted strikes. All Asmodeus would have to do at that point is possess me to ramp up my emotional reactions and, boom. As soon as I recognized that the spirit of the person I met up with and the spirit I was connecting with online were totally and completely different, that façade fell away and he started acting like himself again, instead of Mr. Fantasy Fulfillment like he was in the beginning.”

“You think the same thing happened in reverse,” Aphrodite said on an inhale as she caught on.

“I partially Astral Project regularly,” she said. “It’s not something I learned or had to practice, either. It’s a natural skill I have been utilizing to escape from my painful reality as long as I have been alive. It’s more intense when I medicate because the smoke helps me disconnect from my physical body. That’s why psychotropics have been used in spiritual practices for thousands of years. It allows humans to enter into an altered state of consciousness and fully connect with the spirits around them. I started using it because of my anxiety and depression, but I can feel the difference between when my mind is open and when I’m stuck in my own skin. With my partner always in the back of my mind, whether I am trying to connect with him or not, it’s not outside the scope of reason to think that a part of my spirit would naturally try to cling to him from strength and comfort during times of crisis. I died, however briefly, in May of 2017. That wasn’t just a crisis shatter, either. That was a full cross and return to the living world. After that, I struggled to get a grip on my reality, shuffling through jobs until August of 2018 when I lost my job because of bullshit politics and decided I needed to take a break and actually heal. I started getting into spirit communication and ITC research again, after letting my ex bully me into abandoning that passion because he thought it was stupid and childish to believe in things like spirits and magic, but it always felt like a fractured connection and I got frustrated. I almost gave up until I found the Daemon Tarot, which inspired me to write again. Granted, it was because I was trying to apply the information in the book to a D&D Homebrew Campaign as a way to try and make friends online when I couldn’t leave my house, but it got me writing. When the game fell apart later that year, I started writing The Tapestry. In January of 2020, I started posting the chapters on the same site on which I’m posting my diary. Come April, I tried to reconnect with the book I’d published in 2015, but the idea of working in that world made me nauseous because of the negativity attached to it, so I stopped writing for it and it went on HIATUS. After that, I continued to write, but I never published it, be it as a book or online.”

“The Romance you were trying to write for me,” she said in understanding and Iona nodded.

“I spent the rest the next year, up until I came home from my visit with Cassia in Louisianna in April of this year, trying to write it, but I couldn’t finish it,” she said. “It didn’t feel right writing a ‘happily ever after’ when it felt like the character of Mr. Fantasy Fulfillment, regardless of what name or background I gave him, was really out there and not a part of my physical life. That’s why I decided to attack my Shadow Work the way I did. The most commonly given piece of advice for writers when they are trying to figure out what to write is to start with what they know. I know isolation and loneliness better than anything, but I needed to know myself better, instead of just discovering certain things about what I view as a romance when I have never experienced it for myself in my human life. I know the emotions involved and can interpret those emotions into a scene in which those emotions would be present and apparent, learning what would invoke it in me in response to someone else’s actions and words.”

“Which would be great if you were spiritually all in one piece,” Aphrodite said in understanding. “But, as fractured as you were, it could have bled over into anyone carrying a piece of your spirit with them, even if you weren’t aware of it,” she added and Iona nodded.

“Because I was so focused on Mr. Fantasy Fulfillment, falling in love with him over and over purely in spirit and nothing else, while I was heavily medicated, no less, the chances of me projecting my spiritual imprint, my emotions, onto someone else close to him are exponentially high,” she said. “I imagined the perfect love with the spirit that has been the pinnacle of my romantic devotion my entire life, during a period in which I shouldn’t be alive, let alone a stable, functioning adult, while eyeball deep in mystic forces I didn’t understand. Since the only ones that can confirm or deny if it all lines up and makes sense are the gods and him, I can only assume that it’s true and take the steps necessary to correct my mistakes.”

“How so?” she asked.

“First, I had to recall all aspects and fragments of my spirit from all corners of existence to reabsorb and reassemble it within myself. Then, I had to bind them together to prevent reflecting onto anyone else,” she said with a sigh.

“But, if you were projecting onto someone else, especially any romantic interests he has in his life,” Aphrodite started.

“Then he’ll see, rather quickly, that the person he’s with is not the spirit he fell in love with,” she concluded. “At which point, he’ll have to decide whether he wants to stay with them for the rest of his life and take action based on that decision. But the devastation that comes with the realization is going to be painful, regardless. It’s going to cause him to question a lot of things. But I can’t help him past being here to talk.”

“What if he chooses to stay where he is?” Aphrodite asked.

“That’s his choice and I will honor it,” Iona said firmly. “Asking him to commit to what we had, site-unseen and totally on faith is extremely unfair. In a fairy tale world, he’d be noticing it and trying to reconnect with me in any way he can. But I’m well aware of the reality of the situation. I have no idea who he is in his vessel. I have no idea where he is physically in the world. I don’t even know if he was born male, or just identifies as one. I know him at his core, but the meat is a complete mystery to me. Fuck, for all I know, he might take one look at me in my vessel and be repulsed by my appearance to the point where he decides against trying to reconnect, even just as friends. And that is his choice. All I can do is completely remove my spirit from those around him and cut off any remaining connections that would lead to it happening again. If he decides that he wants me in his life, he can find me in the physical world or online. All he has to do is listen to his instincts and the gods to do so.”

“And what are you afraid of now?” Deimos said from behind her making her cringe a little as his voice rolled through her gut and winding up dread that threatened to choke her until she was able to relax enough to give a small burp around it.

She was used to it and knew why he was doing what he was, even as she fought it down and clenched her teeth against it. It was the fear she faced every time she thought of being seen by anyone; the fear of being misunderstood, of misjudgment, of hatred, and backlash for doing the right thing. So many things had shifted in such a short time, new messages from her dreams during downtime. Everything was stacking up, culminating in an impression, a small snippet of a scene that stuck with her when waking. They were together, sitting down on a bench or a couch, there was nothing between them as they faced each other. She was nervous, jittering, and shaking, on the verge of tears because she was too late. It was a nightmare so vivid, it broke through her medication damper that kept her from remembering her dreams. The tradeoff for being able to escape her reality was enough to feel his spirit when she reached for it to talk to the one person on the planet that understood and accepted her in all of her fragments aspect and help her put them back together again. She hadn’t known who he was but she knew him better than she could explain in one breath outside of saying it would take a novel to explain it. He was looking at her strangely as she faced him, trying to cover her shakes and keep her eyes clear because she knew their time there was brief. She started trying to explain why she got why he was anxious being as it was his wedding to a wonderful woman who made him so happy it hurt just to look at her. He waxed poetic about it and all the while, inside she was screaming and berating herself for being a coward for having doubt in and not taking action, trying not to fracture.

“Breathe, cousin,” Phobos whispered jolting her upright in her seat to take a hard breath at his command. “Remember what you are. Remember how this is possible.”

There wasn’t enough time to wax poetic, she needed to get it out before the imaged faded and she forgot how real it felt and how much effort would have to go into a spiritual imprint the resonated thought the subconscious to the conscious. Breaking down the mechanics, magical theories, the different rabbit holes of research into daemons, filling out a world where magic exists, real-life through the lenses of fantasy to satisfy the closed-minded long enough to break past to the skeptics to a singular audience, a spirit she’d known all her life. As soon as she realized how short their time was, she exhaled the breath she’d been holding as the dread passed through her and into him as she took control of the conversation. He knew what he was going through, but she didn’t, she had to trust in Aphrodite and the Twins to deliver her side of the conversation. She hit him with the one reflection she could think of that she knew scared the shit out of him based on the setting. During downtime, in private moments, their spirits had already tended to connect. As recently as to drive the gods to intervein and force her to do her Shadow Working in public, showing off all of the reasons why it would look like she was desperately reaching for something that didn’t exist. His face was in shadow, but it was alright, she knew it was him so she told him all about why getting married is a horrible idea from the perspective of a woman who has two failed ones under her belt and a describing their characters.

He caught on and she heard his voice for the first time so clearly, it made her chest ache and she knew he could hear her. He leaned in and said unless she was talking about a guy from Rumson, New Jersey (she thought, she thought it was Rempspheld or something like that. Either way, he didn’t care. She smiled to herself and tried to commit it to memory but it was a little hazy. She grabbed his tie, pulled him close, and whispered in his ear, “I would in a heartbeat if I could.” And then the dream ended.

She woke up, level and awake to sit down at her computer again, looking at the conversations with Aphrodite she’d scribbled across notecards in a mess on her desk, the same place she’d been since 2018. She’d needed the gods' help to create a dream that she knew wouldn’t get misinterpreted, where she had enough time to explain. But, even in that, she couldn’t do it alone, relying on the gods to help her out on the backend.

“He’ll find it when he needs it,” Aphrodite said.

“I know,” she said as she shook. “But I also know he has every right to hate me. I feel like I’m ruining his life. And for what? He has nothing to gain by having me anywhere near him. When I started writing The Tapestry, what broke Lily down so bad she had to tear a hole, in reality, to get to the Material Plane was her Mr. Fantasy Fulfillment, Order, rejecting her in favor of preserving his reputation. It was a dare from me to him to fall through reality and live a fantasy with me. But, he rejected it. When I started writing the romance, I figured out a lot about him which I will keep to myself, because fuck you, that’s private. But, I’ll tell you what I was so happy living in my head writing that story through 2020 I was barely aware of the pandemic. All I had to do was sit back and let my fingers do the walking across the keyboard, and I touch type at speed these days, and I had scenes so vivid when I had to take a break and address reality, I’d sit back down and try to remember what movie I was watching so I could get back to it while I was writing, and then realize I was just listening to music and daydreaming while I typed out whatever popped into my head. I was a love-drunk idiot all of last year. Fuck, it wasn’t until around Christmas that I started to snap out of it. And that was just because I felt so go, as soon as the holidays came around and we were forced to put up that Hallmark façade of a happy family and decorate every inch of the house as garishly as possible that I started to feel like the Grinch and decided to perform malicious compliance by giving my mother exactly what she wanted. I got to see exactly how little I mean to this family. That’s when I dropped the vampire aspect because I couldn’t take the project seriously enough to do what I needed. I turned it into a full-on fantasy, recasting Rik as a dragon, got to know a new side of him, and the vampire got renamed, taking on the aspect of his personality that haunted me begging me to drop the demons from my story, contending with Catholicism, Pride, and his desire to be seen as a good guy instead of the villain. I told him to fuck of as a vampire, made that character the red herring villain, and made the dragon the Joker to my Harley, minus the toxicity because she’s a Bard and he’s a cross between copper and red on the dragon scale. Pardon the pun. But the two of them were the heroes, trying to rip a small hole, in reality, to let a few demons through to deal with security, as I’m saying this I am begging for you to understand, I was just writing back then, trying to come up with an epic adventure for my CHARACTERS to go on. That fucking oh, shit moment to realize the implications and hope people will just pass it off as a joke as your gut-wrenchingly backpedal. So, yeah, that was a thing. But either way, I wasn’t interested in his reputation, I just needed my partner to help me figure out how to escape my current circumstances. Someone to bounce ideas off of and figure out how I could get the hell out of my own personal hell. I had no idea that the character was a fucking Bardic Spirit, which I should have, I’ve always been more of an Artificer. Now I’ve figured it out and employed technomancy, asking Loki to help if he could have. Not sure how much help he can be now, though honestly. He’s done as much as he could, so that’s not a sight, but that’s what all the signs point to.”

“Loki bowed out?” Aphrodite asked.

“Yep,” she said. “It’s cool though. It’s up to the Greeks to break through that thick skull of his now that I know our lines are catching up to one another. The transfer of information is vapid, but it’s been stacking up in the cards, readings, the playlists you'll have been setting me up with. Fuck, all day I was seeing this same series on TikTok about Love Languages of the neurodivergent and ADHD which makes total sense. Penguin Pebbling, sending people you long little GIFs and messages now and then to let them know you’re thinking about them because you want them to know you’re making them smile and they wanted to pass that on. Info Dumps, which makes way too much fucking sense, considering this whole fucking thing is a labor of love written by someone with ADHD. When we started this fucking project, it was the same intent as everything else, to GTFO. I was willing to allow an audience of spirits into my head in the form of writing a book that’s forever fueled by the same lessons I have learned over and over, like yeah, I get it. I have been trained by the gods to be able to handle all of the symptoms of my mental illnesses, I’ve got Daemons in my back pocket for every concept I can call on to remind me of when it’s time to reconnect with the body and evaluate the vessel’s health. I have everything I need to take care of myself in total isolation, heartbroken, and missing the shit out of him. Everything else I do is just busy work to keep myself occupied and try to stay productive, it’s my hobby is attempting to build businesses based on creative ventures. Every time I do something creative, I have to think about it from both sides, baring my soul in all its naked honesty and the potential for me to be able to pay my bills and feed myself. And, you know what, sometimes we all have to be uncomfortable and feel exposed to take control of the situation. And if I’ve got a self-sustaining hobby that starts to excel, I’ll probably give whatever I don’t need to survive to charity. I already follow and adore Critical Role, I give it to them. At least then I know they vet their foundations to make sure they line up with a lot of values I can support. I grew up in a broken home where money was scarce and food was too, I’m used to nothing and can feel very comfortable there with the help of good friends and a community that has more dreams than sense half the time but the gods love them. So here it is, you son of a bitch, raw and unfiltered, my dark mirror, my Shadow Work down out in the open for the world to see as I stand up and stage and dare them to judge me as inferior in any way shape or form for being who I am. And guess what, just to flip you the bird and show you how a Silver does it in text, I’m going turn it into a love letter.”

“What are you going to do?” Aphrodite asked.

“You’re getting off track,” Aphrodite said with a small chuckle. “What are you afraid of?”

“That I’ll jump the gun or send it too early. Because I think I know who he might be, but I don’t want to jinx anything,” she said. “I just want to try and spare him from having to go through the same headache and heartache that I am with this whole thing when I would be happy just being friends. But I also know the asshole is a hopeless romantic that plays at a cynic to cover the fact that he’s been in love with a concept his entire life and just never had the verbiage to describe it without feeling like an idiot or put down. Daemons run in pairs, one gold, one silver, and as far as silvers are concerned, I’m Silver which means he’s Gold, he’s the hero of a lot of different stories. A lot of people are starting to wake, are finding their Divine Matches. The Daemon pairs are waking up, finding each other, igniting their spirits, it was only a matter of time before we found ours, but circumstances are weird so we needed some help. But I’m starting to think I’m running out of time because the connection has been getting stronger. One of us needs to act and do something different. I’ve tried twice, but if I try a third time, it looks desperate. I have to have faith that he will see this when he needs it and trust in the spirits. That just means I have more time to pick apart my past relationships to try and piece together a clear reflection of him so he can see himself in the narrative.”