I am risen indeed.
Also fuck Instagram.
Last week I was back in Mississippi, driving my best friends car high as hell on a sunny day picking them up from student teaching. Living inside a song with the windows down, there was wisteria everywhere. I knew it was a gift for me. It is my favorite flower because of its limited time with us as well as it’s color and form.
Wisteria is just about to bloom at 901 Overton. My Easter activity was dissociating so hard I went to my childhood home of 20 years in Bucks County PA. Again. I forgot AGAIN my Mom is 15 minutes away in a shithole town. 901s windows are gutted and there’s a dumpster in the driveway. A child’s slide is in the backyard…a reminder that the attractive rich new owners are restoring and gutting MY home I couldn’t afford to keep. MY dream house. I drive away quickly before I’m spotted feeling like a creepy intruder…my heart caved in like someone punched it. Because they did.
It was everyone’s dream house. My dad walked in in 2000, cried and bought it. January 2022 at twenty-nine, I bent over sobbing in the empty living room before locking the door forever. I kept a key out of pure rebelliousness, thanked the Lahaska guides that protect the forest and house, waved goodbye to the ghosts and left. There is a hole in my heart that will never be filled and my father is the one who drilled it right the fuck in. I may understand his demons, but that does not mean I forget. Or forgive.
I called this newsletter Scorpio Rising for several reasons. It is my rising sign and what many who don’t know me intimately first see. I’ve been told I come across guarded with resting bitch face, somewhat mysterious (if I choose to be) and as someone who has shed identities over and over. Scorpio risings are known for having to let go and rebirth more than most in the zodiac and often through traumatic circumstances!!!! Isn’t that FUN!!!!
I will be 30 this year and I have never felt more scared and alone. I have no idea who I am or even who I WANT to be (add a sprinkle of gender dysphoria on top). In the last four years I have lost everything. Most of us have. My home disappeared, any sense of safety, my youth it feels sometimes, energy, career, money and the will to live lets not forget that one!
I have experienced police brutality, emotional, physical, religious and sexual trauma all which have resulted in PTSD, anxiety, depression and the ADHD that went undiagnosed for ENTIRELY too long. I have two degrees (one in choral conducting) and I don’t even conduct anymore. I left a cult and now spend my time calling out all the other ones and reading tarot. I caretake my Father (and lets be real, my Mom also), do their bills, fight with the insurance companies, email all of my dads network who still haven’t caught up to speed, dealt with the stupidly obsessive gf who enabled behaviors all while I watch my Dad disappear even more with dementia thanks to his drinking and narcissism. I feel helpless watching my mother struggle miserably when she should be enjoying her 60s and resting instead of working to the bone with zero assets or retirement due to her squandering piece of shit husband she didn’t leave. That ain’t my fault though. And it never will be. That shit lies on them but fell on ME.
I do all this while trying to navigate not particularly liking myself or my Body all that much and learning to deprogram cult PTSD living with my partner who is kinder to me than I may have ever experienced whilst learning emotional availability which turns out I am SHIT at who would have thunk????
I’m in Philly now, a far cry from the South, but much better of an option creatively, financially and socially than New York in my eyes. Slowly acclimating to the queer communities, I find myself trying to find my footing. I’m used to being in small towns where I’m already known and don’t have to introduce myself. I like anonymity and keeping the people guessing and the thought that I have to field off questions such as: “Where are you from?” “Everywhere???” “What do your parents do??” “One hates her life and the other is a vegetable you wanna spit out at the dinner table.” LIKE????
What do you do? The hell if I know. The answer was so simple before. “I’m a choral director” sounds sexy and succinct. It’s a mouthful to say:
“Oh, I’m a freelance writer, sorta professional voice teacher/musician, tarot reader and whatever new way I’m earning money this week!!!!! NOW shut the fuck up and let me hide with my vape.”
Yes, I am awkwardly from here (Bucks County), but don’t really identify. I say things people don’t understand like “the devil’s beating his wife” and my partner looks at me like I have three heads. That’s nothing new, but sometimes I just want someone to look at me and say “you got that right darlin.”
Coming back in 2019 after eight years in TN and MS really fucked with me culturally. So much of my childhood is blocked. I don’t remember most things, but I knew Spirit was telling me I had to return to lay family demons to rest. Being the only child to break generational curses is exhausting, infuriating and the only way forward. No one BUT me was going to stand up and say: “This is fucked and wrong. You’re emotionally distant and dismissive. You’re an alcoholic living an entire double life that has crumbled your brain and our lives.” My spiritual journey has caused my parents to stare themselves in the face as well as Myself and overall it’s been a shitty time.
I wouldn’t take it back.
Scorpio Rising will contain my writing in various forms. Witchcraft and tarot work will be heavily featured as well as how-tos. There may be pod recordings rambling about my latest vent topic, creativity in different art mediums I am into atm and….well fuck whatever I feel like I suppose. I am not adhering to a schedule, but when I have something to share or say. Content for contents sake is exhausting and I’m OVER it. I will never be able to define my “niche” (GOD I am so TIRED of hearing that on perky ass insta reels also FUCK instagram) because I am all and nothing at once.
So are you if you’ve stuck it out this long so we can journey through this together. Can you tell I’ve avoided writing this? I don’t know how to start things…only finish them.
Maybe…just maybe I can start something now.
People are telling me they’ll pay to read me (WILD but also YEAH) so just know that paid subscriptions help me pay for gas, weed, actually pay off my credit card this year, buy my partner the next sensory thing that makes her eyes light up (my favorite thing) and just in general….help care for me. It is not required, but deeply appreciated always.
If you ever wish to donate just because on a one time basis however your budget permits or want to book a service with me/follow on other socials you can find all of that here: Linktree
See you soon. - Cat