Heathen Names

I've been seeing a lot of discussion over the last few days about "heathen names" and "viking names", and thought I'd weigh in on it.

Choosing a new name because of religion has a long history. In the ancient world, freshly converted Christians would choose (or be given) a new "Christian name" to symbolize shedding the old Pagan identity, and becoming a good Christian. In many cultures, people had multiple names and nicknames.

In the Pagan and Wiccan communities, "craft names" have been around about as long as Wicca has. The idea was that by choosing a magickal name or a craft name, you could protect yourself. Wiccans, especially, have faced a lot of discrimination in the workplace and at school over the years. It was common for people to practice in absolute secrecy, and many people hid their religion from their families and friends. So by using a different name around other Wiccans and Pagans, no one could accidentally "out" you or get you in trouble. After a while, Wicca and Paganism became more popular and acceptable, and people began to regard craft names as a spiritual thing, where you shed your old (often Christian) identity and introduced yourself to the gods with your new Pagan identity. I think that's incredibly ironic. It's a very popular tradition in the Pagan community, and some people have birth names, pagan names that they go by in the general community, and even "coven names" that are known only by members of the same coven or circle.

Now, I understand why Heathens decide to choose new Heathen names, but I think that in the context of the Heathen worldview, it doesn't make much sense and it might even be offensive. Many Heathens, like myself, come to Heathenry through Paganism. I see Heathens talk about religious baggage all the time, and I agree with the opinion that Heathen names are a result of Pagan or eclectic baggage.

One of the main arguments against Heathen names is that it's offensive to your ancestors. While I think that it probably depends on your specific ancestors and your specific name, in most cases I think it's fairly true. Your name is a gift from your ancestors, and it's the legacy that you're going to pass on to your descendants. Even if everything else about your family is forgotten, you can figure out at least a little bit through your surname. Keeping your name is a way to honor your ancestors, as one redditor said. So unless you have a really good reason (like if your name is absolutely ridiculous, or you're a trans person who wants a name that matches your gender), I think you probably shouldn't change your name for the sake of Heathenry.

Secondly, if you don't actually belong to the ethnic group you're taking your name from, you might be participating in cultural appropriation. So keep that in mind.

Third, unlike in Wicca and Paganism, there is no traditional or cultural reason to take up a new name. Religious minorities are much more widely accepted now than we were even 5 or 10 years ago, and it's not really traditional to re-name yourself in Heathenry.

All that aside, I think that if someone asks you to call them a specific name, then you should. Ultimately someone could have a good reason for it, and they're the one who has to live with it, so let them be. If anyone I know were to choose a Heathen name or a Viking name, I would call them by it.

How To Provide A Better Experience For Disabled* Pagans

*for the purposes of this post, I won't be differentiating between mental and physical disability.

Obviously, I am a disabled Heathen. I've been disabled for the majority of my teenage and adult life, and many of my friends are also disabled, so I am speaking from first-hand experience. Many Pagans are disabled. Around 15% of the population is disabled in one way or another (if this number seems high to you, remember that not all disabilities are visible), so there's a good chance that every Pagan gathering will have at least one disabled attendee. It's really important, then, to make sure that Pagan events, temples, and groups provide a good experience for disabled Pagans. Make sure to talk with anyone in advance to figure out what their specific needs are, but here's where you can start.

1. Make sure your venue is ACCESSIBLE.

Your venue might include a temple, a park, someone's home, even a metaphysical store. Sadly, many of these places are simply not accessible, or not accessible enough. Every Pagan should be able to meet other Pagans and celebrate holidays with them, so the most important thing is to make sure the venue is accessible.
Accessibility is more than making sure there's a ramp for wheelchair users. If you're hosting an event, make sure that everyone who is attending will be able to get to it. Outdoor events should include minimal walking. If the walk is longer than the average parking lot, you should arrange for a wheelchair (and someone to push it, if applicable), a golf cart, or another mobility aid. In addition, make sure that the ground is level and free of obstacles, holes, or hills. This includes making sure that ramps are not too steep and that any stairs also have railings. If people will have to walk over uneven terrain or use stairs, have an able-bodied person offer their arm to lean on during this process.
Allow people to bring caretakers, assistants, or service animals, and make sure that there is access to a phone. Ensure that paramedics and other emergency personnel would be able to get to you during an emergency. Also, make sure that your venue is in a safe place and is well-lit without being blindingly bright.
It's important to ensure that there is adequate seating for anyone who might need it, especially during rituals. Some people can't stand comfortably for more than a few minutes at a time, and anyone with chronic fatigue might need a chair nearby. Keep in mind that while stools are easy to store and carry, they are also very uncomfortable and people might have trouble balancing on them.
For stores especially, make sure your aisles are wide enough for someone with a walker, a cane, or a wheelchair to maneuver in, and ensure that you don't put products on the floor out of reach.

2. Make sure that everyone is included.

Just because someone can't dance or isn't comfortable with being touched, it doesn't mean they don't want to participate! Personally, I was always more than happy to sit in a chair in the circle and sing or beat a drum while everyone else danced. Always ask someone before touching them, and if they don't want to, don't force them. Instead, find another way for them to be included. If you are doing chants, try to provide everyone with the lyrics beforehand, and have a few paper copies available for anyone who might need or want them. If you are serving food or having a potluck, there should be something for everyone to eat, so be mindful of allergies and special diets. Rather than asking someone to sit out, try to find a way for them to participate.

3. Be conscious of everyone's needs and do your best to meet them.

For example, Deaf Pagans might want to have a sign language interpreter on hand (if they do, PLEASE don't expect them to pay for it). Pagans with autism or anxiety may want to have access to a quiet area they can go to if they experience sensory overload. Bathrooms should be on-site and easily accessible, and allow people to bring snacks, drinks, or medication if they need to. If someone is allergic to cats, it would probably be best to shut Fluffy in the bedroom instead of letting him roam wild. I am convinced that cats can tell if you are allergic, and they will always try to rub up on the only allergic person in the room, so when in doubt, shut the cat out. Make sure no one is sensitive to any incense you plan on burning or oil that you're going to anoint people with. If someone wants to leave the room or the event for any reason, let them.
The best way to figure out what someone needs is to just ask them. Make it clear to everyone that they can approach you with any concerns, and encourage people to make suggestions. If you are having trouble meeting someone's needs, ask them what you should do.

4. Be flexible, open, and understanding.

Disabled people have a wide variety of needs and potential problems, just like any person. Educate yourself and try to work with us, not against us. Understand that sometimes, people with chronic illness are not the most dependable and consistent people ever. We're not anti-social, lazy, or apathetic, and there are many valid reasons that we might be late or that we might have to cancel at the last minute. Personally, my illness fluctuates from day to day, so my needs fluctuate as well. On more than one occasion, I have had to cancel an outing that I very much looked forward to. If a disabled person says that they can't make it on time or at all because of their illness or disability, believe them and try to understand! We want to be there, but we don't always have full control of our situation and circumstances. Someone may look perfectly healthy, but that doesn't mean they are. Similarly, someone might need a lot of assistance and accommodations one day, but they might not need anything special on another day. This is why communication and trust are vital to ensuring that disabled Pagans have a great experience just like everyone else.

If you're planning an event, I hope that this post was helpful to you! If you have any questions, ask them in the comments, or tell me about your experiences as a disabled Pagan. Share, subscribe and check back every day for new posts!

My Decision To Convert To Heathenry

One of the things I want to talk about on this blog is religion (and how religion ties into disability, feminism, and other aspects of my life). So I want to start off talking about my religious background, and why I decided to convert.

I was born, baptized, and raised Catholic. As a young child, my parents were very devout. We went to mass every Sunday, and every major holiday. I took communion. There were no other options open to me as a child. And for a long time, I never even questioned it. I assumed it felt wrong because I was a sinner and a bad person, not because the religion was wrong for me.

As time went on and my parents divorced, they became less and less religious, until they no longer attended church at all. While I was much relieved, I also felt like something was missing in my life. So as a teenager, I researched many different religions. Eventually I found Wicca and Paganism, and so until this year, I identified as an eclectic Pagan. And I loved it for a long time. It was a much better fit than Christianity. But it was still off. There wasn't enough structure, and the community was so sprawling, yet I didn't really connect with the other Pagans in my area. Maybe it's Christian baggage, but I really desire group worship. I didn't like celebrating the Sabbats alone.

For the last year, I've been really interested in the Northern Gods and Heathenry. And the more I've learned about it, the more I've grown to like it. The community is smaller, but it's so closely knit. To my great surprise, there are actually a ton of heathens in my area! In fact, I've already made plans to go to a 3-day camping Freyfaxi celebration that is open to the heathen public, less than two hours away from my home.

In addition to that, I'm really attracted to the heathen worldview. It's so different than the Christian-centric western worldview I grew up with and am used to, but it seems so much more authentic to me. I love how centered around family and ancestors it is. I love the structure of it. I think that Heathenry can help me become the person I want to be. On the downside, I will have to do soooo much studying. They are not exaggerating when they call it "the religion with homework". But I am a scholarly person, and I've been enjoying it so far. I don't have a lot of money to spend on books right now, but so far I've been able to find lots of free PDFs, so we'll see how well that goes.

Right now, I'm just focusing on getting a really solid foundation. I can worry about the rest another day.

If you enjoyed this blog post, comment below with your thoughts about heathenry, share this post on facebook and twitter, and keep checking back for new posts every day!

What Is It Like To Live With Fibromyalgia?

My journey with fibromyalgia (often shortened to "fm" or "fibro") started in the same place so many others do - with a rough, traumatic childhood. I also have a genetic pre-disposition to fibro, though, as my estranged grandmother also has a fibromalgia diagnosis. Nobody knows for sure what causes fibromyalgia, but we do know that having childhood trauma or a family member with fibro increases your chance of being diagnosed with it.

It is not the only health problem I have. I'm also lucky enough to struggle with asthma, hypermobile joint syndrome, cubital tunnel syndrome with nerve damage in both hands, orthostatic intolerance, and chronic fatigue syndrome (AKA Systemic Exertion Intolerance Disease), as well as anxiety and depression.

As a kid, pain was something that I knew well. I was very clumsy, like many other FM children, and my hypermobile joints meant that I was susceptible to sprains, strains, and dislocations. By age 15, I had dislocated my shoulder and multiple fingers, sprained my ankle 3 times and I suspect I sprained my back at least once. I cannot begin to count the number of times I "twisted" my ankle or shoulder or neck. I had pain that wasn't related to injury, too. It's hard to describe, but today I would recognize it as fibro pain. At the time, my parents and my doctor wrote it off as growing pains. They didn't believe me. My father thought I was a hypochondriac. Instead of letting my body rest and heal, I learned to "push through it" and then crash later. I am certain that if I had gotten the medical care I needed as a child, then my joint pain and fibromyalgia would not be as severe now. But I didn't reach a diagnosis until I was about 20.

I had been "achy" for weeks straight with no relief. I was incredibly stressed out, my baby sister had died a few months before, and I was commuting 45 minutes to work two minimum wage jobs about 55-60 hours a week with no benefits. I was driving home, and it felt like someone had stabbed me in the arm. It was so intense and so painful that I had to pull over. My stomach began to hurt as well and I thought something was seriously wrong. The pain wasn't going away. I called my father and insisted that he pick me up and take me to the hospital. He couldn't understand the level of pain I was in, or how awful I'd been feeling lately, but he came anyways. I got in the car, and he berated me for wasting his time, that this wasn't a medical emergency and I was overreacting, being a hypochondriac as usual. Overwhelmed by the pain, the noise, and being yelled at, I had a panic attack, which naturally triggered more yelling on my dad's part and an asthma attack on my part, and by the time we got to the hospital I was in crisis. I couldn't breathe or speak and I was in incredible pain. I couldn't function. The doctors gave me a breathing treatment and some sedatives but couldn't find any cause for my pain, and explained that I probably had fibromyalgia, a chronic pain disease associated with anxiety, and I should talk to my family doctor about it.

When I did, my doctor told me that fibromyalgia was a fancy term for anxiety, and that it wasn't a real illness but a physical manifestation of anxiety, and that he didn't diagnose or treat it as anything other than anxiety. He gave me some sleeping pills and some anti-anxiety pills and told me to talk to a therapist. I didn't bother.

The pills didn't help. My pain got worse. I became constantly tired. I would experience flares where I could barely function on some days, while on other days I felt almost normal. Pain-free days became a thing of the past as I got older. I became more forgetful than I had ever been before, more easily confused and overwhelmed. It was like there was a dial for sensory perception somewhere in my brain and someone had accidentally left it turned all the way up.

My doctor's dissmissive attitude and my history of being called a hypochondriac convinced me that no doctor was ever going to take me seriously, so I did the research on my own. I learned the names for my symptoms and what I could do to make my life better. I tried to exercise regularly, eat healthy, and take my vitamin D supplements. It got better for a while. I thought I could manage. I moved to an apartment closer to my work and got into the habit of doing yoga every day. I got back to my daily life. I did things like going out clubbing and drinking. I took up painting. I was living my fabulous exciting 21-year old life. I made tons of friends and didn't tell any of them I was secretly sick. My pain didn't define me or hold me back. I came out as a lesbian and the woman I would later be engaged to moved in with me. Everything was wonderful.

And then I crashed.

I got to a point where I could no longer push through the pain. My IBS-like symptoms got worse and worse, and so did everything else. If I thought my pain had been bad before, it was nothing compared to the pain I felt now. It was crushing. I could do nothing but lay in bed and cry. I forced myself to go to work. I was throwing up daily, even at work. The constant nausea was unbearable. My asthma was acting up. My joints became more unstable than ever and I began to gain weight uncontrollably. I would forget the names of people and objects. I would drive somewhere and get lost because I didn't know where I was going. I would get turned around in the mall I had worked in since I was a teenager.

I got fired from my job because I missed two days in a row. I had been in the hospital for abdominal pain caused by gastritis from taking too much ibuprofen, and then for an asthma attack brought on by my GI distress. I had a note from the doctor. It didn't matter. They told me they needed someone more reliable. I was devastated. I had never been fired before, I had been aiming for a management position and I was the best salesperson they had. I found out later that they suspected I was a drug addict because I was throwing up so much.

My girlfriend supported me financially while I "recovered". I started seeing a new primary doctor, who diagnosed me formally with fibromyalgia and a few other things. I got a new job at the burger king with my girlfriend. I rearranged my life around doctor appointments and medical tests. I starting taking xanax for my anxiety and zofran for the nausea. But the pain continued to worsen and my joints became more unstable than ever. I stopped exercising and doing yoga out of fear of spraining something and out of sheer exhaustion. I started taking Neurontin for pain, but it never really helped my fibro pain very much.

I saw a rheumatologist and a gastroenterologist. They confirmed my diagnosises but didn't help much besides that. I was told that fibromyalgia isn't a progressive illness, but my reality seemed to be the opposite. It just got worse and worse. I stopped going out at night. I had long since stopped drinking, but I stopped seeing most of my friends as well. They told me I wasn't fun anymore and I couldn't argue with that. One day I realized that my life consisted of going to my part time job and then coming home and getting into bed. I starting spending all my time in bed, either reading or browsing the internet or sleeping. I rarely wrote, painted or played guitar anymore. I became a shadow of my former self. I started smoking weed to cope with the pain and nausea, which actually did help. It was shocking because I'd been so anti-drug for so long. I found that I got more done when I was high, I slept better and I was less tired, but finances were really tight between my decreased income and my increased medical bills so we couldn't afford to have weed all the time.

I tried to find a balance between resting and working. But it was so hard. Work made me so tired. On days I worked, I couldn't do anything but sleep afterwards. Every day of work required two days of rest. My girlfriend and I got engaged and she needed me to drive her everywhere because she lost her license because we couldn't afford to keep up our car insurance and she got pulled over. I started calling in to work on a regular basis, and when I was there I had so many medical restrictions there wasn't much I could do. I was overwhelmed, tired, in too much pain, and eventually I quit my job with no intention of finding a new one. I couldn't work anymore, I just physically couldn't even get out of bed sometimes. I read somewhere that 80% of fibro patients stop working fulltime, but I had always thought I would be able to push through the pain and exhaustion. I thought my fellow FM patients were lazy and not trying hard enough, or letting their disease define them. I was wrong. Becoming disabled was inevitable and unavoidable for me, and there was nothing I, or anyone else, could have done to prevent it. I wanted to work, but I just couldn't do it anymore.

It has been very hard on us. I rely on my fiancee for everything. I've applied and been denied for disability benefits, but I'm going to apply again. Sometimes we have to go to the food pantries when our budget goes wrong. I am in constant pain, constantly exhausted. I struggle to get dressed and make food. Some days I am so tired that I don't even have the energy for that, so I just don't eat. I was forced to cut my long, beautiful hair, because I was incapable of holding my arms above my head for 15-30 minutes every day and I couldn't deal with the horrible scalp pain during and after brushing it. I don't wear jeans anymore, or anything tight, or anything with seams in the wrong place, because it's just too painful. I can't take showers by myself anymore, only baths. Making the bed and loading the dishwasher have become accomplishments instead of daily chores. I rarely leave the house alone.
I constantly have to deal with people who don't understand. Family members who don't understand that I am not blowing them off when I don't come to dinner. Strangers who don't understand why a seemingly perfectly healthy 23 year old woman needs to use the disabled bathroom stall (so I can use the bars to stand up) or the electric shopping cart or my walking stick (so I don't fall and get hurt, and also to conserve energy). My two year old sister, who doesn't know why "Big Sheeshee" can't run after her or pick her up.

Society equates the young with being healthy, and teaches us that disabled people are mostly paralyzed folks in wheelchairs, and that if you're not a working, productive member of society then you're worthless. It teaches us that pain and disease are bad, horrible things that make your life not worth living. But I think my life is worth living.

There are lots of bad things about living with fibromyalgia and chronic illness. But there are good things, too. I have learned who my real friends are, and that true love is sacrifice and hard work. I have found a huge community full of brilliant, wonderful, disabled people. I have discovered that privilege is intersectional and so is feminism, and that you can learn a lot about a person by how they treat you when they find out you're sick. I learned that I am not disabled by my pain or my fatigue, but by society and it's lack of ramps and resources. I have become clever and resourceful and accepting of my flaws and my challenges. I would not be the person I am today without my illness.
I have bad days. But I have good days, too. And I'm hopeful that someday I will find a treatment that will work for me. I'm not giving up. If you have fibro, don't ever give up. When I started walking this path there was no treatment at all, and now there are 3 FDA-approved medications. It's not much, but it's a start.

If you enjoyed this blog post, comment below with your thoughts about fibromyalgia, share this post on facebook and twitter, and keep checking back for new posts every day!