I took that as a sign that I should let go of the past and stop hurting over bad memories.  I don't know if this is part of the letting go process, but I immediately felt the need to review old paintings, drawings, and notebooks.  The first journal I came across was one I wrote before a trip I took up north with my old best friend, Andrew.  This is the first thing I read:

he may not be there

to take away my pain

but he is usually

standing by

challenging me

to overcome

it

(this goes to the edge of the blank book)

 

I'm almost out of paper

all I have left

blood and honey

the charms to speak

hand held out

candle flame tears

lost in my room

 

all I want

is all I can't have

 

your smile on my lips

a gift of feathers

like the wind

a soft song on skin

the shadow of your hair

 

almost out of paper

but not out of room

this is taking it all up

so much, so much

and no excuse to hide

I don't know what exactly I was referring to at the time I wrote that except that everything during the course of late spring 2002 was about Andrew and how terrible I felt over having a romantic interest in him.  I blamed myself for anything that went wrong between us, and anything that went sour in between me and anyone else.  I knew I was having the same mental illness problems I had before I moved to Milwaukee and avoiding treatment as much as possible in order to avoid rejection by my friends.  I had moved away from central Wisconsin to Milwaukee to have a new group of friends so I could escape the abandonment I experienced with my old friends.  The worst thing anyone can do to a friend is to ignore them when something has changed.  Since I had emotional and mental problems, problems no one could understand, I was avoided.  One old friend I ran into today told me that the reason why everyone stopped hanging out with me in 2000 was because it was like I had changed over night.  They saw a dark side of me that wasn't me and they were helpless to do anything about it.  But imagine being me dealing with that all alone?  I longed so much for connection, for a sense of belonging, knowing I could only get that if I were "more normal" and wondering why I was being left out of the social loop.

It was literally me being punished for being sick.  Like I could heal myself?

I remember turning to old friends for help, but for some stupid reason they thought I was asking them to fix me when, in reality, I was just simply looking for moral support.  Why do people do that?  Why do some people assume you are looking to put responsibility for your problems on them?  That's not me.  I just talk a lot.  About everything, too.  Why assume I need YOU OUT THERE to solve what is wrong with me for me?  Healing does not work like that.

And yet forgiving old friends for misunderstanding me... this is hard.  Especially when their last words and actions can't be forgotten.  As soon as I see them or hear from them, the hurt comes back, the trust is gone, the wounds still sore... there are times when remembering the pain prevents me from acting on my desires today. 

Ten years ago, when I would start crying, I couldn't stop.  Some friends felt responsible for my weeping, others felt I was just doing it to get attention, like I was faking it, and in the end everyone just hated me for it.  I thought moving to Milwaukee to chase my "dream best friend" would change things for the better.  In the end, I just ended up having another breakdown in 2004 and moving back to Stevens Point to be lonely all over again.  'Cept this time some of the friends I gained in Milwaukee reach out to me like never before, the talk is no longer over my crush on Andrew, and it's more about missing each other and the connection we once had.  Yet, even after recooperating from my illness and getting my emotions back under control with treatment, I still fear becoming the abandoned Val again.

Over the last three years I've learned how to be alone.  I never have guest over to visit me.  I stay buried in a basement apartment.  I prefer to be alone.  I like communicating with friends only on line.  I still feel overwhelmed when out in public.  And I still stay up late at night to avoid the public.  Realizing these things, I try to stay postive, but I also realize that it's unhealthy for me to continue to live a "cocoon life" without the prospect of ever emerging into the world.

Perhaps the Beltaine thunder was part of a wake up call to get out again.