Sad to say this week again my creativity has left me. I have parts of story finished that I was going to share with last weeks teaser, but things happen. I don’t want to leave those who contacted me about wanting to participate down though. So even though I am not feeling very prompted this week, here is your Saturday Sanctuary picture for the week. What does this black and white inspire you to write?

People claim they are trying to be supportive and there for me yet they get all butt hurt when I answer in an honest yet slightly guarded way. Like seriously? Leave me here with my damn comfort food and I will just eat my feelings away thank you. I don’t need any wishy washy support, I need real no strings attached I am here for you even at your worst support. I am sure some reading this will think this is aimed at one particular person but it’s not. It is a clear and honest shot across the bow of all of those in my life who say they are there for me and love me and are my friends and are trying to be supportive and then they snap at me because I don’t meet their expectation of what I should be saying. There is more then one of you and you all know damn well who you are. For the record I can’t help but wonder if those who continue to do this sort of thing ever stop to think perhaps it is the fact that any time an honest less then sunshiny answer is given there is a price for me to pay and I am tired of paying it. So sometimes it is just easier to say, I’ll live which is an alternative and more honest answer then I am fine when obviously I am not.

Over the last two years I have been making a serious work of trying to take back things that were taken from me. Two years before that I started making pushes and efforts to embrace other things. I won’t go in full detail here but for me to accept things and take back things about me has been a long and hard process. Like it is for anyone who goes through it I am sure. For the most part I have made strides towards my goals I feel, and yet I have a long way to go. Sometimes it would be a great deal easier to just be “normal”,  there are so many days that I think if I could just fall into a role that society would see as normal and live in that small box it would be so much easier.

Not that it would make me any happier, of course. Being something you’re not only sets you up for more pain in the end of things. Yet much like the Queen, whom one of my dear cousins has decided to call my alter ego, I was taught what seems like eons ago to conceal. Yes, perhaps it was not the exact same way that Elsa learned and was told to conceal herself. Leading to never ending anxiety.. which of course manifests itself into freezing an entire land in eternal winter. Yet the effect is the same. Once again, I find myself feeling like I said in an early post on this blog. I must always be the strong one, the independent one, the perfect one.

 

 

I do have many blessings in my life and I will be the first one to tell anyone that. I am blessed in so many ways. I have love, a roof over my head, food in my belly and clothing to wear. I can even indulge in some hobbies and pastimes when I have actual time to do so and am not working. I know there are so many people who do not have all of these things. There are people in this world who are suffering. I understand that and I try not to be petty. However, because I have these things, does that mean my life is perfect? No, it doesn’t. No life is perfect as no human is perfect. Moreover, the grass is always greener on the other side of the pasture. Just because all some see are the lush green blades of grass doesn’t mean there are not weeds, trouble spots and other unpleasant things to be had.

 

The beauty of the castle that was created through Queen Elsa’s castle cannot be denied. Many who look at it will only see the beauty and the fact that it is a castle. They will forget that while indeed it is these things it was a fortress from the world. An ice gilded cage in which the Queen could hide herself away from the world. The only way she felt comfortable being whom she truly was meant being completely separate from the world, from everyone even the sister whom she loved. Because she had been taught that to be herself around people was a terrible thing. Being herself meant that she harmed her sister. Being herself meant that those around her who saw the beautiful power she wielded would be scared of her. They would fear that power she was born with, lash out at her because of it. Some small few might covet the power for themselves and trap her even further so they could have her kingdom. Fear and jealousy are nasty things that seem to travel together in a pack finding every weak point in the prey they seek and hitting those weak points as hard as possible. Even the strongest among us will eventually buckle under the strain.

 

 

At any rate. I digress and have gone on another long ramble of emotional vomit, apologies to all and sundry who take the time to read it. I really should go back to just putting the happy things of life on the internet. This post when I originally opened the page was intended to make an announcement that I was thinking of bringing my pen/paper/ink reviews back in some form or fashion as J said he missed them. I didn’t think anyone really paid much mind to them back when I used to do them. The last one I did was in 2017, good grief a lifetime ago (and omg the blog design I had on that blog…designed myself so not razzing any designers oh what was I thinking). Alas, things happened as I settled in to write the blog post and this is what we are left with.

I apologize to the readers of this post. Perhaps the announcement will come on a different and a better day.

I am fine.

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, the title may confuse some of those who know me, trust me that is not how I actually feel. Sadly, I did something that you should never do….. I “interneted”. Having a brain that would not calm down enough for me to even focus on a single thing on my to do list that I should be doing, no my brain was having too much fun thinking of new things for me to do.

Normally random Google searches for me are fairly safe. I look up photos of art, cats or things that might go along with the inspiration my brain is having. This time it seemed simple enough, safe enough once more looking at a very favorite topic, fun and different takes on Elsa. Oh, sometimes I really should learn not to click.

An article topic popped up along with a photo about a sexy moment that everyone missed from the movie. I personally found there to be a few, but not missed, just typical Disney over kids’ heads there for the adults items. Especially during the big crescendo moment of Elsa becoming her own Queen. I really, really should not have clicked.

The link took me to a Huff Post article (yes first sign I should not have clicked), it was of course by now several years old 2014 but hey it would kill some time to read it. I am face palming myself as I write this now. If you are interested in reading the article yourself (I beg you not to click but in the interest of fully showing and sourcing) you can read it here. I am going to make it fast and just quote the part that has me face palming the hardest.

At the song’s emotional climax, as Elsa is about to see the sun rise for the first time from the balcony of her new crystal palace, she suddenly sees fit to express her freshly unleashed power by giving herself… a magical makeover. “Let it go/ Let it go/ That perfect girl is gone,” she declares as she ditches her old look (a modest dark-green dress and purple cloak, hair in a neatly tucked-up braid) for one that’s arguably even more “perfect.” By the time she sashays out onto that balcony to greet the dawn, Elsa is clad in a slinky, slit-to-the-thigh dress with a transparent snowflake-patterned train and a pair of silver-white high heels, her braid shaken loose and switched over one shoulder in what’s subtly, but unmistakably, a gesture of come-hither bad-girl seduction.

Now. I am not saying that all movies for children should be ideologically scrubbed clean of any hint of sexuality. Nor am I immune to the fantasy—one that’s surely not limited only to women—of vanquishing one’s demons and tapping one’s reserves of inner courage while also looking like a million bucks. But I know I’m not the only one who feels a familiar sense of deflation every time that pulse-racing song (delivered so gloriously by Menzel) culminates in a vision of female self-actualization as narrow and horizon-diminishing as a makeover. It’s a moment I recognize from too many movies in my own childhood—Grease was one, The Breakfast Club another—in which the “good girl” goes over to “the bad side” thanks to a quick cosmetic fix-up (Olivia Newton-John’s big slutty perm and skintight black pants! Ally Sheedy’s tragic de-Goth-ification at the hands of Molly Ringwald!). These moments always bugged me as a kid, because they seemed to be last-minute reversals of the foregoing movie’s message, which was that the character in question (Newton-John’s virginal Sandy, Sheedy’s glumly eccentric Allison) was fine just the way she was. To be sure, Elsa’s conversion into a glammed-out ice diva does differ in important ways from those earlier onscreen makeovers—for one thing, her transformation isn’t meant to impress any specific suitor, and in fact Elsa (unlike her younger sister, Anna) ends the movie without a romantic prospect on the horizon.

 

I just….I mean….seriously? WHY?! She is all ,outraged about a makeover? Moreover, she seems to think that just because a woman owns her own sexuality, her own beauty and does something just for HERSELF that she is being a “bad girl”. Since when did embracing your own sexuality become the same thing as a bad girl? Sadly, I know the answer to that is a long time ago. Just as she pointed out, the good sweet little “virginal” stereotype is alive and well in movies and TV. So of course, a woman who has less tidy hair and a stunning gown that is indeed also sensual and sexy, well of course she is a BAD girl. I mean come on here.

Elsa at a very young age was taught to be afraid of her power to be afraid of who she was literally. She was told to conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them see. Bad parenting award there by the way, even if it was born out of their own fear and misunderstanding. There have been some great debates over the parallels of what Elsa’s power is being shown to be. The obvious on screen power, of course, is her magical abilities, but many have also drawn parallel lines between that and her sexuality, that she is forced to hide her beauty and sensuality ect. There are a lot of other parallels and all I am going to say is well done for those who see those ones. The moment when she runs away because of her own anxiety and fear having come out and the people being afraid of her is heartbreaking. It is also what happens when you are told to hide who you are, you become afraid of yourself. So that moment when she finally embraces it and also gives herself a makeover into what SHE wants to be. Yeah, it is sexier and less buttoned up there are more parallels there you know. Elsa is not doing this for anyone but herself. Elsa is not doing this for a man like Sandy did in Grease, Elsa is embracing her own power and who she is as a woman as a Queen.

This writer and I use the term loosely is trying to rag on one stereotype while happily trotting along with another one and frankly it chaps my rear end. I know I shouldn’t get so concerned about it, the post is from years ago and doesn’t actually hurt me any but yeah I am just seeing red. Sexuality and sensuousness a woman with her own power and strength of will and sensuousness should NOT be seen as a BAD girl. She is a strong woman who is not afraid of ALL of her powers.

Now, do I think it is a great thing for young girls to be rolling their hips seductively. Well, no I don’t think it is the best thing in the world. HOWEVER, scolding them and teaching them to hide it is not the right answer. If they are young it can be presented in a way to them about needing to be older to move like that, or something along those lines. Older girls should be able to be talked to rationally about it. We should NOT teach our Daughters to be afraid of who they are in any fashion and that includes embracing their womanliness, their hips, the sway all of it.

I am sure some who read this will be going, well now if our girls act like this they are asking to be raped, or asking for trouble. I refuse to live in that kind of fear. I know that society is terrible about sexual harassment and rape, you really don’t need to tell me about that. Once more I say, however, teaching girls that the way to avoid these things is to hide their sexuality is only perpetuating the damned problem. It is NOT a girl or woman’s fault when she is sexually assaulted. It is also not a boy or mans fault when he is. Society needs to chuck that crap out of the window and lay down one simple firm line. Sexual harassment or assault is the fault of the perpetrator NOT the victim. Women should never have to get that, well if you didn’t wear that or if you didn’t drink this or didn’t do that or whatever speel. I know I am guilty of falling into some of those things I have been taught by society, but I am working HARD to break free from them and I will not teach it to the next generation if I can help it. This is not Utopia so of course common sense should be applied, but we need to stop victim blaming. I don’t care if a woman is walking stark naked down the center of the road, that doesn’t mean you get to touch her and that she is asking for it.

Moreover, we need to teach our boys not only the right way to act, the right way to treat a woman and No means No but that they too can be hurt. Everyone knows that the numbers of how many women who report sexual assault is appallingly low, but have you looked at the statistics for men? Did you know that 1 out of every 10 rape victims is male? Did you know studies have shown that 90-95% of male rape victims don’t report it? That is compared to the 85-90% of women who don’t report, lets face it is is not much better, but I suspect the number for men is closer to 98-99%.

So, yeah, maybe Elsa let loose and became a little bit sexier embracing who she was. What is so wrong with that? She is an adult and while yes, it is a kids movie, it isn’t like she stripped down naked and started finding every man she could to have fun with. Not that I personally think there is anything wrong with that either, just not in a children’s film. Women like the one who wrote this article are part of the problem not the solution. It is reading crud like that which makes me sad and ever more fearful for society.’

*Takes a Queenly step off her soap box*

Sorry about the long winded rant, but I had to get it off my chest. Right, time to let it go.

 

Yeah, see what I did there 😉 always good to end on a light note.

** This soap box moment that jumps around a bit within the topic brought to you by sleep deprivation and stress. Check back for next weeks edition. **

 

I am NO MAN!

I had a big plan this week to write some big sweeping chapter of the last inspirations. Then I got distracted and I was going to write a big sweeping epic on my other idea. Then I felt sick. So I am still inspired but just didn’t get a damn thing done. this week. Sorry.

On the bright side I will tease what I got distracted by…not that anyone who’s talked to me in the last few days will be surprised.

I like to consider myself a fairly patient person. I like to think that I am especially patient when it comes to waiting for things in the mail. I mean come on like all of us I get excited abut things but I also understand the way business works and sometimes things take a while. I also understand sometimes thinks get lost in the mail. So I always make a good effort to be calm and professional when inquiring about something I still don’t have.

Oh but I LOST it this last week.

I placed an order as a test for some supplies with a new supplier in January.

Take a moment and look at your calendars that’s okay ill wait.

So I started asking last week about what was going on with these items.

Now I won’t post the exact replies as maybe its against some some form of TOS somewhere but it summed up basically too..

“We promise we have sent the items please be patient and wait.”

Right maybe they didn’t understand me? I again pointed out the date I ordered. The date it currently was. The fact that they did not extend the buyer protection so the system automatically marked the order as if I got it. Although I had contacted them before to say it certainly was not here and asked for tracking info.

Reply?

You guessed it.

“We promise we have sent the items please be patient and wait.”

There was a long round about which included a lot of me pointing out that I Have been plenty patient. Maybe they could resend the items? Their promise is all nice and such but with zero tracking information doesn’t do me much good at all. Yeah the reply was still.

“We promise we have sent the items please be patient and wait.”

Needless to say I am very glad I place small test orders when I can with suppliers I have not done any work with before. I can’t understand how people think this is acceptable customer service. I would never dream of treating a customer that way.

A song that seems so fit very much right now. For several situations. Those of you know that yes when you say your sorry I will believe you and listen to your story.

Fan art image from Deviantart

 

I walked along the long ornately decorate hallways of Whitehall, Nan at my side, searching for Mary . But with my luck, it wasn’t her who I ran into. It was Cromwell. True, he’s not my enemy , but he isn’t exactly my ally either. He bowed to me as was still required at the moment, even though he knew he specifically didn’t have to unless Henry was present. How gentlemanly . “Marquis Boleyn. How are you and the little…prince in your stomach faring?”

“Prince? My baby isn’t guaranteed to be a boy , even if it is he’ll inherit Pembroke, not the English crown. Henry’s slaving away at the annulment.”

“No, my lady . Forgive me for being the one to have to tell you, for Henry already should have by now. If you give birth to a boy , seeing as your marriage to the king isn’t annulled, he’d be legitimate.

You would once again be Queen, to protect the bid your son would have to become king.”

I gave a rich, hearty laugh. This was ridiculous! “And what of the Lady Jane Seymour? Does he not still love her? Who am I to trap him into a marriage with me? Who am I to keep him from his true love?” I raged at the poor man. I shouldn’t be taking my sorrows out on him. Then again, there is that phrase ‘Shoot the messenger.’ That’s how I heard it anyway .

“With all due respect, Henry always spoke of you as his one true love. But yes he is quite smitten with that blonde vision. We were supposed to be discussing the fine details of that. The outlining really depends on the gender of her baby . If a boy it’d be a recognized royal bastard, and either Jane will be sent away or she’ll become maîtresse en titre. If she has a girl, well, we don’t quite know yet.”

“I see. Well, thank you for keeping me in the loop and giving me something to pray for.”

“And what more would a pious woman such as yourself have to pray for?”

I smirk as I walk a few steps ahead of him before turning my head to reply . “A girl.” I smirked again as I once more began to walk down the halls, continuing my search for Mary . Eventually I found her in the main library . She was at a desk with a little girl. She looked so kind and normal it made me feel even guiltier. If this is how Lady Mary truly is, how much could I have made her hate me that she acts so bitter and hostile and cruel? I crept slowly behind the pair, not wanting to disturb whatever it is that Mary was trying to do with the little girl. But I suppose I wasn’t quiet enough because I made one step and was met with the clear green eyes of my baby girl.

“Mama! Mama! Mary’s learning me language. We spoke Spanish, and English, and German, and Russian, and French too mama! You like French!” her eyes were lit up enormously and I couldn’t help but tear up and smile. I peeked around Elizabeth and fixed my gaze on Mary .

“I’ll see you later, Little Lizzie. Have fun spending time with your mommy! Your daughter’s persistence is quite inspirational, Marquis.” I bowed my head in gratitude but her glare became harder and more pointed. “I wish I could say the same for yours.” And she walked away . I turned to Elizabeth, who was smiling blissfully oblivious, and envied her. I wish I could see the good in everyone. But right at this moment all I could see was a vividly vibrant red.

 

Grinding my teeth I pick up Elizabeth and spin uncomfortably on my heels. Fine, I’ll simply let her be for the time being! I’ll allow her some time to mull over my sincerity in my offerings. And she expresses my persistence with a negative connotation? HAH! Elizabeth is shaking her head violently and doesn’t stop until I do.

“Mama, I wanna see the roses!”

“No baby girl, we’re going to go see Daddy!” I force myself to brighten my voice up as I hoist her up, as she was slowly sliding down (curse you silk), and carry on walking to Henry’s offices in the South wing of the palace. I walk in unannounced and without invitation, as has been my right to for over ten years now. I walk in to see Henry sitting at the desk, with Mistress Seymour massaging his back while looking over his shoulders at whatever it was he was working on.

“How sweet. Mistress Seymour, do not strain to push yourself beyond your obvious limitations with Henry’s political jargon, you’ll get the worst migraines.” She looked like a deer caught between two hunters. Her eyes flit for the briefest second to Elizabeth before resting on Henry . She leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Yes, she has always called me Henry and often helped me sort out the kingdom, Jane. Please, give us a moment.”

“Mama! Mama there goes that lady again! Why’s that lady so close to my papa? Isn’t she s’posed to serve you?” I ignored my baby girl and glared at Mistress Seymour as she lowered her head, training her eyes on the floor as she left.

“Why are you here, Anne? You should be resting.”

“Because we still have a lot to discuss, and with my progressing pregnancy , our time is running out. Tell me, have you seen or spoken to your daughter since our last discussion concerning her?” Elizabeth was perched on Henry’s lap by now. He was bouncing her gently up and down while she drew on an extra piece or parchment she found.

“That’s exactly what I’m working on now. But Jane’s and your pregnancy complicate everything. All that I am doing rests on the probability of whatever gender your children are. Jane’s children may or may not be added to the line of
succession, but where would that place Mary . And your child definitely will be in the line of succession, as you are still queen at the moment, but where in the line would all of them go? Yours, Jane’s, and Mary’s. That’s three children to consider, along with Elizabeth.”

“It doesn’t seem that difficult to me. Here, you can always change things around. Put Mary under Elizabeth and just leave the open space for my child. Then, whatever Jane’s bastard becomes depends on the gender, so leave it out for now.”

“Fine, I’ll just put Mary under Lizzie for now and whatever comes after her is listed as pending. You were right, you know Anne.”

I was hoping he’d tell me I was right all along and that he was wrong in seeking his entertainment elsewhere. That he truly doesn’t know the meaning of devotion and will try to change. But I know Henry , I know him inside and out. And unfortunately his pride gives him extreme limitations to the point where he’ll never admit to anything of the sort, and will live behind his mask of delusion for the rest of his days. Unless he has a change of heart while knocking at death’s door.

“About what this time, Henry?”

“You know what, Anne.” he threw down his quill and ran a hand through his hair.

“I haven’t the slightest clue, Henry .” I tilted my head to the side. Considering his affiliation with Jane, he must find idiocy simply entertaining.

“Restoring Mary to royal succession brings us great political power. It gives us the upper hand in several situations. She would be a princess four times over, her education is impeccable, her persistent support and faith concerning the Roman Catholic Church pleases nearly every prince in Europe, and her dancing and singing is wonderful. She has all this at her disposal with beauty beyond belief. She’ll be so happy .”

“Actually , I think not. Which is why I asked if you had spoken to her, not if you sorted out the matter concerning her. She doesn’t seek wealth and titles for her happiness. I think all that would make her happy is your love, my death, and returning to Spain.”

“Well the way I see it, two out of three of those can be arranged happily .”

“I see…did you throw out my death warrant yet? Which two of her three happiness’s will you be willing to grant?”

“Come now, Anne. Forgive and forget! I know you’ve always been the type to hold strong grudges, but I think letting this matter go would be acceptable. It’s best if we both forget it.”

“Henry , you know me better. Our Lord frequently preaches forgiveness. I have long forgiven you, but I will never forget. The bible says nothing about having us forget.”

Henry rolled his eyes and looked towards Elizabeth. She was finished drawing and was now adding detail to whatever it was she drew. I craned my heck to get a glimpse of what she drew, as Henry had stopped bouncing her at the sight of it and was now frowning. In the picture she depicted three people. One man. One woman. And one female child. The two adults looked severely irate and the small girl was crying quietly , holding her skirts in her hand, showing that she was twirling around. Mama and Papa never stop fighting. Was written in Latin just underneath the drawing.

“Am I the one who makes you two fight, daddy?”

“No. No, no, never my pearl. What would ever give you such an idea?”

Lizzie started to cry and hopped off of Henry’s lap and moved to the other side of the room. She pointed out the window at the gardens before wrapping her arms around herself. “You and mommy fight. Lately , you always fight. I always see you fight. Or if I don’t, I hear you fight. And sometimes at Hatfield, the older Ladies talk about you and mama fighting until Lady Bryan or May tell them to shut their large mouths. Mama I want to go with May .”

“Who’s May , Anne? Did you charge someone with the care of my daughter without my knowing?”

“Actually no, even if I had you wouldn’t have cared. Remember what you always told me? ‘You must do as you will, Anne.’ May is Mary . She wants her sister.” My tone remained harsh even though I tried to make it calmer for Elizabeth’s sake. It isnt healthy for her to see Henry and I argue so much. To be the cause of her emotional damage, withdrawal, or shortcomings is the last thing I want.

“Come with me Lizzie, we’ll find her together and if she’s busy you can always see her later.”

“No, Anne. We still have a lot to discuss.”

“Keep working on that annulment. Then we won’t.” his eyes, clear as day , hardened and I knew he was serious.

Letting out a large sigh of annoyance I called for Elizabeth to be sent with a maid to find Mary , who she apparently affectionately called May .

“There, Elizabeth is gone, and now she thinks that we fight because she makes us unhappy . Is that the image you enjoy projecting to my daughter, Henry? Is it?”

“Our daughter, Anne. Just…just sit. Cromwell told me he already informed you on the current situation of our marriage. We’ve already discussed Mary’s political standing and that of all my other children. All we have left to discuss is Elizabeth’s schooling, King Francis’ upcoming visit, and how your pregnancy has been going.”

“The last ‘issue’ sounds more sociable than businesslike. How long is Francis staying?” I smiled faintly at the thought of my old friend coming for a visit. Between everything I have been through since the last time I saw him and some more recent developments, I could really use his company .

“Stop smiling like that, you look like an idiot.”

“Like Mistress Seymour?”

“Watch your tongue.”

“Forget this. I will not sit here while you treat me as anything less than the person closest to being your equal. I will pick out Elizabeth’s new tutors on my own, based on my own schooling. And I will write to Francis on my own. Can your precious little fool do that Henry? I don’t believe she can, the only thing she knows of proper schooling or foreign language is that she never had it and she can’t speak any .”

I stood promptly , spitting my words at Henry like fire. I walked with purpose out of Henry’s office and back to my own chambers. How do people expect me to change and apologize to all of them if they all remain imbeciles! Its complete and total hypocrisy .

Monday again already. Seems the year is going by pretty fast, maybe that is a good thing because there are a lot of parts of 2017 I am ready to do WITHOUT. I can’t lob the entire year off though, there are a few good things to be said for it as well. So without further adieu. Here is today’s song that I am feeling.

Over the years I have been accused of being cold, unfeeling, someone who doesn’t care and a variety of other things. The irony behind such comments is that more often than not the same person who called me those would then later go on to call me strong and brave and such an example of how people should be. So which is it? Am I an Ice Queen or am I some pillar of womanly strength? Personally, I don’t think I am either one. Not at all. Although I am observant enough to understand why some might see it differently.

For as long as I can remember I have had to be a strong person. This is not something that is bad per say, but over time it can become problematic. The problem arises when those around you, see you as the Strong person. The oh you’re always so strong or Oh, she’ll get through this because she is strong. While it might not be meant in a bad way, it is most often meant in a good way or with the best of intention anyways, it can become a very bad thing. It gives the thought that because someone is strong they don’t need help. That’s because someone is always showing you a strong face they aren’t falling apart. This is where it becomes a problem. Those who are the strongest often end up falling apart completely alone.

My parents divorced when I was 12, now I am not going to sit here and carry on about how it ruined my childhood and all of that. Yes, my parents getting divorced was traumatic, and yes, it was hard and some of the other things that went with it were hard. Chances are it is the moment in my life where I made a firm choice to be a strong person, but things happen right? I didn’t ever make a choice to be someone who doesn’t feel or who doesn’t care. In fact, I get in more trouble because of how much I DO care instead of not caring enough.

The trouble really starts when as time goes by because I am strong and independent and tend to be yank on my bootstraps kinda girl that’s all many see me as. I have become the person everyone says is so strong and can handle everything and anything. A few times I asked for some help or support and those times I was told, “oh but you are so strong you don’t need anyone to help.” so over time I stopped asking. I got very good at wearing a mask that appeared strong and calm as a cup of water even as everything inside of me was screaming because it was all falling apart.

I got too good at wearing that mask.

I got so good at wearing that “I am fine” mask that for a while, I even managed to fool myself. I managed to pack it all away in boxes and not look at it. Not a healthy way to deal with things and I know that, but I couldn’t let people down now could I? They saw me as the strong one, the one who would always be there sturdy and strong for them to lean on. So I had to be that and while I will always do my level best to support someone I love and care about, I am a human too. I need to lean in and cry sometimes too, but I got very good at pretending like I didn’t. That was my fault as much as any other situation and I own that fact.

I got so good at that mask, I mean really good I didn’t tell anyone about the years of emotional and mental abuse I was suffering from thanks to my ex. Everyone thought I was fine and of course all I ever said is I am fine. However, I was not fine. I was anything but fine.

When my ex was cheating on me, I was fairly sure it was happening long before I said anything about it to him. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to poke it, if I did the mask might slip and fall off. Slowly, however, the mask started to crack. The more he tried to make me feel like I was paranoid, or deluded or I was the one lying and scheming and doing all sorts of things, the more the mask cracked. See mental abusers and cheaters use that tactic A LOT, they can delude themselves (and others) into thinking you are the bad guy and they are totally justified in every single action they take.

To this day I am fairly sure my ex has many people snowed into believing his version of events. Problem being when you are on marriage number 4 and the only common denominator each time has been you, might be time to think about that. He won’t of course people like him never do, they have to be in the right and the victim. He’s a peach enough to even blame his poor fathering on the children. One of which he tries to still do this day say isn’t his, despite a DNA test that says otherwise. Not to mention the fact that the child is the spitting image. I digress however, this is what they do and many women don’t manage to ever break away from it.

I am lucky that I did. My mask cracked and shattered all over the floor. Yet even in those moments when I walked away from that relationship after so many years everyone told me how strong I was. I know they meant well and I know it was meant as encouraging for me it started to feel like an expectation. So I put up a paper mask, it was not nearly as good as the other but it made do.

It took some time reflecting on things and life, I am sure many women who are cheated on and walk away look back as I did. I started unpacking all of those boxes that I had put away in my mind. Sorting through things and finally coming to terms with admitting I needed to ask for help again. I had become someone who has crippling social anxiety and a myriad of other anxiety issues along with physical ones that weren’t being addressed. Now you can’t expect other people to fix you, but you hope that when you reach out a hand and ask for help to those who have been in your life for a long time that they will take your hand without malice and help.

That is not always the case of what happens sadly. Now I would be lying if I said I was completely and utterly alone in this world. I am not. I do have people and I love and thank them from the bottom of my heart for what they do as they can do it. Sometimes , though, you need someone else to help you. Or at the very least you need them to understand that you can’t be the sturdy oak right now. That you love them, but you need to work on yourself for a little while. You would hope that would be understood and they would support you as best they could. At the very least you hope they won’t add to your burden.

I can’t explain for me how much it hurts to see that is not always the case. Not always the case at all. When I started being more honest, admitting I had limitations that I could not actually carry the weight of all of my problems and everyone else on my shoulders. I was in for a surprise.

I was being cold. I had a frozen heart. I don’t care enough about them. I don’t understand them. I am strong I should be able to handle anything. I am making big deals out of nothing.

All things I was told when I started admitting I could simply not handle everything. Those barbs hurt more than I can ever express in simple words. Perhaps I should have walked away, then, said well okay if that is how a person feels. It isn’t always that easy when you care about someone. It really isn’t that easy when you have already changed so much of your life around. It feels as if it would be more than selfish. I am sure there are some codependency issues going on there, but once I truly love a person and take them into my heart, I will fight for them even if maybe sometimes I shouldn’t.

So to try and refute the comments of coldness and everything else I made conscious effort to be more open, more vulnerable to let them see behind the paper mask. You see I feel just as deeply as you do, I am hurting just like you can hurt. I need help too.

This ends up being a mistake as well you see. Those moments end up being used against me. Like a weapon each one slung like a hard iron barb at the moment when I could least afford to have it happen. I can’t even think of putting up a copy of the words that have happened with me over the last week and one particular friend. I don’t claim to be a perfect saint I truly don’t. But three times in less than 1 week a cycle of attacks, apologies and promises has occurred each one getting worse than the other. The second attack was less than 48 hours after the first, while the third was less then 18 hours after the second. A very clear and very bad pattern and everything I had ever allowed this person to see behind the mask was used against me like a weapon to beat me down.

It worked. I am down and I am in the mud and I have not felt this way ever in my life before. The pain that those who you love most in the world can inflict is worse than any random person could ever do. I once said I don’t fear enemies I sometimes fear my friends in a moment of cold sorrow. I really hate that it seems that this comment has found a way to be true in my life.

I feel like an open wound an open nerve ending that if you breathe on it wrong it will hurt. I don’t like feeling that way. I really hate it. Alas, I am strong, right? I should be able to fix myself and be just fine. Perhaps over time I will. I do manage, generally to put the pieces back into place. I just wish they wouldn’t keep getting knocked out so often.

The worst part about it? I am supposed to accept and be okay with what happened. Why you ask? Because this person has mental health issues. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand the seriousness of them and I let SO many things slide because of it, but it doesn’t give anyone the right to purposely cause another person so much pain. It doesn’t give anyone the right to maliciously seek out the soft spots and attack them. I will have to accept it though, because in this persons world that is how it is to be.

The battlefield is bloody and strewn, both sides did draw blood. I am not a passive person by any means I will defend myself every single time. But I avoid hitting things like the nuclear choice. Words that would be so devastating they could never be taken back. I wish I could say the same for others. The other party walked off the battlefield after attacking and will not return for some days at least, maybe longer. This other party is in a space where they will be able to process and not have to worry about anything beyond that. No responsibility.

It isn’t club med by any means, but there is something to be said for being able to focus only on your mental and emotional health for a while. I won’t get to do that. I have responsibilities and things that must be handled. As much as I would like to shout and say STOP, LET ME OFF THE WORLD for a little while that is not how it works. The world keeps turning and I go with it. Beyond my own responsibilities I will now also be in charge of things the other party left behind undone or intended to. Like making sure their dog is fed every night, among other things.

This is a long ramble, but alas, it is what the inspiration lead to and well I won’t be sorry about it today. Sometimes we must find a vent for our pain in order to try and move forward. If there is a way.

Just remember, Ice may seem cold and dangerous. But it is also brittle, breaks under too much pressure and can melt away to nothing.

** When the Daughter’s arrive **

Henry, Jane, and myself all stood outside the castle some six yards away from the gates. My daughter and step-daughter are arriving today, any minute now. I stood solitary as Mistress Seymour snuggled close into Henry’s arms. Henry was the only thing standing in between Lady Seymour and I. Just Henry and a thick wall of bitterness and hatred, mostly on my part.

Every so often Henry would glance in my direction and flicker his eyes from my growing stomach to my eyes, seeking a signal that my baby and I were alright. I would give him a subtle nod before turning my attention back to the road. The milky faced girl was only four months along and barely beginning to show, so Henry didn’t worry about her stomach so much yet.

Eventually the large clop of the horse’s feet and the noisy wheels of the carriage met our ears. I held my stomach in a vain attempt to calm myself. I was simply too excited! The last time my baby girl saw me I was a wreck. And then I was about to die without a single goodbye to her. I didn’t even begin to make preparations for her for when I eventually do die. I had wanted to leave her something special of mine and a few letters for her to read as she got older. But now I don’t have to worry about that for a little while. God-willing I won’t fall ill giving birth to this baby. I believe the last time I saw the Lady Mary, she was adamant on remaining loyal to her mother’s long gone regency in England and I had been harsh and cruel about getting her to sign the oath.

Oh how I wish I could take that all back. I feel her pain now. I know why she is the way she is. I’m in the same exact position her mother was in all those years ago. In all honesty I would’ve had Elizabeth do the same. If I were to look down upon my darling Elizabeth and see her bend her will to that of the whore that is Jane Seymour, I don’t know what I would do other than sob out the rest of my existence. My heart and soul and livelihood would simply…crumble. I know now. I know. I know how they both felt at my intrusion on their seemingly perfectly happy family. I know the constant fear the held, painfully, in their hearts. I know the sadness, betrayal, and anger at a harlot trying to break apart your only family.

I am determined to make it up to her. Every wrong I have done her, I shall recompense to the best of my ability. I will talk with Henry about getting her married, getting her more ladies, getting her more dresses and jewels. Anything she wants, I shall try to arrange according to my power. But deep down I will always know, and she will too, that I can never fully make it up to her. She can’t ever regain all those lost years. Those lonely years in the cold damp and isolated places she was moved to, simply to be as far away from her mother as possible. I can never help her regain those years without her mom while I danced and frolicked about in Court life. She won’t ever be able to say goodbye to her mother, not even on her deathbed. I simply can’t, and shallow possessions won’t make up for that.
“The Princess Elizabeth, Lady Bryan, and the Lady Mary!” the pageboy announced with every ounce of respect due to the ladies titles. I turned to look at the happy couple and search for their reactions. Henry’s was that of deep anticipation, and Lady Seymour’s was of childlike joy. What else would I expect from a child? I swear to the heavens, Elizabeth is more mature than this harlot.

“Mama!” Elizabeth flew out the carriage in a flurry, her skirts flying everywhere. Lady Bryan frowned deeply until I shot her a look. I don’t care if she’s misbehaving at the moment. She’s my little girl. I heaved her up into my arms and smiled. She turned her attention to Henry and wrinkled her cute little nose in distaste. “Papa, who’s that lady? Mama, is she one of the maids of honor?” Mistress Seymour was frowning at my daughter, her brow wrinkled. How dare she! Has she no shame! The audacity of this woman is unspeakable!

“Mistress Seymour, if you’ve got something on your mind, please, speak up.” The meek little mouse’s eyes darted to me before looking back at her feet. Good. Learn your place, mouse. I was so caught up in my baby I forgot to even look for Mary. I’m surely not off to a good start.

“Father, Marquis, Lady Jane, I’m pleased to have been invited to come.” Her voice was strained and it was plain in her features that it took all her strength to force out the formalities. And considering she’s Catherine’s daughter, that’s a lot of strength. She curtseyed as a Lady always should. I gently placed Elizabeth on the ground and moved her in the direction of her father, who welcomed her genially. I held out my elbow to the Kings first living child.
“Lady Mary, please, join me in the gardens?” She glared at me before shooting a pleading look at her father. Henry’s expression was stony as he motioned for her to come along. “We have matters to catch up on.”

*** The next Chapter ***

Our arms were interlaced platonically as we walked at quite a leisurely pace to what used to be my gardens, which I now suspect Henry will either obliterate of generalize it to make it a ‘public’ garden. Yet as soon as we were out of Henry’s line of vision and hearing range she fiercely tore her arm away from mine and sent me a glare that could freeze the deepest depths of Hell. I smiled sadly albeit shuddering at first. I had expected nothing less.
“Hello, Lady Mary.” She held her glare and lifted her chin to me.

“Mistress Anne. I expect you have called me here as one final stab at getting me to sign that godforsaken oath? I won’t. I won’t ever be an ally to you in any sort. I’ll never comply with your will so long as I live. You’d have to find a way to execute me before that’d ever happen. Or maybe considering your newfound title as a ‘witch’ perhaps you’d just blacken my heart as you did my mother’s, you harlot. Whatever your purposes are for calling me here will prove futile, so I don’t suggest you try.” She began to walk away, so I pulled her back. All the lessons and tutors in the world couldn’t help me in this situation. I haven’t the slightest clue how to mend this, neither with words nor actions.

“Lady Mary.” I bowed my head deep and curtsied my lowest. This should be a good start. This is my first sign of respect. Right? “I realize this is long overdue. I also realize that it’s too little too late. Please, consider this and listen to what I have to say. After this, I understand if you still feel large disposition considering me, but I’ll learn to accept it and hope and pray that one day you’ll come to forgive me. Think of me as the confessor and you the Priestess.” Her eyes narrowed and I knew her curiosity would get the best of her; I’m still practically on my knees in front of her.

“Rise then, and speak.” She looked down her nose at me, her expression still as stone.

“I, myself, am suffering in the same way your mother was all those years ago. I’m ashamed and appalled with this feeling and even more so appalled that this is what I put you both through. Let me begin by offering my most sincere apologies.” She gave a slight nod of her head and I could tell by her expression that she wasn’t moved in the slightest.

“Well, what should I be saying at this point? That an apology from your heart is all I desired all these years in my desolate isolation? That a few words will make me forgive you for all that you have done to me, my family, and my beloved country? Think twice, three times, and then once more.”

“I know. But my suffering at this point in time should be your smallest comfort. I was going to be executed, as you very well know, I suppose that might have comforted you as well. But I’m round as ever, and your father is excited.”

“My father died a long time ago. The first time he ever indulged you, he died. The King Henry Tudor somewhere about this palace with Jane, bless her heart, isn’t my father.” Her tone was sharp. Her resolve wasn’t weakening one bit.
“I know. Back at Hever, news would come every so often about the Royal Family. It was like a bed time story, a fairytale life that everyone wanted to live.”

“Was it now? So that’s what you do in your spare time. Crush dreams. Destroy fairytales. Blacken the beauty of the magic? Wonderful.”

“Lady Mary, I truly am sorry. Why do you have to be as stubborn a mule as your mother? If Catherine had complied-all in the past, forget I mentioned that. That is why I have called you here; I wish to make it up to you. To make your life better. To build and grow the stepmother-stepdaughter relationship we should have. If it is your wish, I will ask Henry to bring you back to court. I don’t know if you have been told, but you have already been removed from Elizabeth’s charge. You’re free to come and go as you please. I hope you’ll stay at court, though. Your continued presence will help me in deteriorating your fathers resolve and soften his feelings towards you. Given a small piece of time, I might be able to restore your position as a rightful princess. Afterwards, you’d be able to freely go to Spain, if you wish. Or even better, if I manage to restore you, we’d have to begin building up a marriage prospect for you. You’d be a queen.”

“You mean like you’ll never be again? Such a lovely title it is, isnt it? Queen. To be a queen is to have power, although less than your husbands, it is still power. Unless said husband doesn’t love you, and I’m sure mine won’t if I choose to marry a prince of Europe. Political marriages rarely ever have love. What I am hearing from you is that you believe making me a princess again will soften my feelings towards you. It won’t. what I’m hearing is that you’d have me made a princess again, thinking it’d make me happy, and then trap me into a loveless marriage, in which my husband will be continually unfaithful, like yours is. No thank you Mistress Anne. We’re done here.” she smirked cruelly and pitifully at me as she skillfully plucked a rose from one of my bushes and gracefully walked away. No, this will not happen. I am not done trying. This is just the beginning.

“Have you even visited your mother’s gravesite?” I yelled after her, forcing her to stop dead in her tracks. She flew back toward me a fiery rage in her eyes that’d put Henry’s to shame. She rose her hand with purpose and cracked it down on my face. The sound reverberated around the gardens and tensity lingered in the air afterward. Ignoring the cool sting that felt worse than needles pricking at my face, I reached down into the satchel that I had hidden behind my skirt folds. Digging for a second, I produce a solid gold tiara emblazoned with the finest and purest rubies, emeralds, pearls, diamonds and silver. Every expensive metal you could think of was made into this tiara. It’s fit for an Empress who rules over not one or two countries, but the whole of Europe and the ‘new world’ Spain is involved in. This tiara has been the most sought out trinket in the world since I had had Henry order it to be made for me. “We’re done here; I will respect your wishes on that. But, here, this crown was fit exactly for a person like your mother, whom I loved before she became my competition. She had always been kind to me. Serving her had been nice. She was an amazing Queen and a princess, three times over.” Cradling my still throbbing cheek I left Mary in the gardens and went to begin my work. While I’m still in power, I have a lot more retributions to make.
I enjoy knowing I have left Mary speechless, Anne Boleyn always gets the last word. Always.

I woke up from my nap blissfully happy. My sources told me I had left Mary in a trance like state of deep thought, and that after trying on the tiara and crying, she immediately made arrangements for Chapuys to take it and place it safely with her mother. Mary very well could have thrown the tiara at the ground or at my head for that matter. But she didn’t.

Henry hadn’t asked many questions about the red mark on my cheek. I told him I just fell asleep the wrong way and some odd material had left its imprint on my face. He simply shrugged and held me closely, or attempted to, while we spoke. He kept trying to pull me to him, but between my resistance and my grotesquely large stomach, it was a futile effort on his part. After dancing lightly around the edges of the matter, testing the waters, I finally let him know that something was on my mind and that we would need to discuss these matters as quickly and professionally as possible. In fact he should be here in a few minutes.

“Anne, what’s so important that I had to put a hold on discussing affairs of state with Cromwell. He was less than pleased. Whatever he had to say was important.”

“And what I have to say isn’t?” I gesture for him to sit as I call upon Madge for some tea.

“Look, Anne, as refreshingly wonderful as it is to get to discuss political matters with a mind so scholarly it may rival mine, I’m busier than ever. Couldn’t this have waited until my daily visit?”

“A few years ago, you would’ve held up a treaty with Kings, simply to hear my thoughts on the matter. But what we have to discuss is more important than anything you could be arranging. The matter at hand is very close to both our hearts, mine only recently, but has been with yours for a lifetime. Mary.”

“I had been missing her as of late. It was a wonderful idea of yours to bring her to Court; I wouldn’t have had the guts to. I feel…happy. My loved ones are all surrounding me, except Charles of course, he’s busy.”

“She is twenty years old, Henry. It’s high time she be married.” He waved his hands dismissively.

“No one respectable will want her as a known bastard. What would you have me do? Marry off my firstborn baby girl to a lord or a duke, even though she’s a bastard?”

“And you don’t think I’ve already thought of some barrier like that?” I replied sharply, my tone more than a little terse. I was absolutely and indefinitely offended. How dare he? He’s belittling my intelligence to think that if I had to discuss political matters with him I wouldn’t think it through. “You’ve been spending far too much time with the likes of that wench, Jane Seymour. It’s almost unthinkable to me that her influence on you has made you so accustomed to the thought that women are permitted to be so idiotic-

“That’s enough, Anne. I’ve permitted your bitterness towards my Jane up until now, but it’s beginning to get old. Grow up Anne; you’re acting like a five year old. Get to your point.”

“I wish to restore the title of Princess to Mary, as it should never have been taken away. Why punish your innocent daughter simply because the Pope and Catherine made a few silly mistakes in letting you be wed? If Mary is a Princess once more that brings us great political advantage. Think of how great it was for your brother to marry Catherine, a princess three times over in her own right. Just think of what that Princesses daughter could bring for England. Another advantage is your daughter’s happiness, Henry. When was the last time you saw the somber look on your very first jewels face brighten into a smile? Making her a princess and marrying her off will benefit the political stance of England, Mary’s happiness, and Spain will be quite well pleased to see her become all this. In addition to Mary’s husband’s country, we might possibly gain Spain as an ally once more. Just think about it Henry. Think.” By now I was practically on his lap and whispering in his ear. His lips were taut as he thought over every…single…word I’d just said. The possibilities were running very quickly through his head. I could practically see what was going through his head at the moment.

I removed myself from his presence, moving to one of my outer chambers to pour myself a glass of water. I sat with my glass and began to munch on an apple. Soon enough Henry came out of my bedchamber and I could tell he’d already made his mind up about attempting to rearrange things for his eldest daughter; he tried to play it off as though he had even better things to do. But I’ve known him closely for too long now. I can read him like a book, but I played along and pretended to believe that he’d not finished thinking on it.
Another point for me.

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