The Return To Innocence

I don't know why I've been treating my online places as confessional kinds of things, but I have so many friends here who know me and understand me that it is hard to not talk about things.
I have been having issues with Body Dysmorphic Disorder again.
That is all.
I am working it out. Klonopin and therapy and exercise and pampering really can help my personal issues. It is difficult to talk about OCD problems sometimes, especially if it sounds like white whine, but I don't know what else to say about that.
I wish I could open up and talk and talk for hours, but right now I can't. My throat feels raw. Eating is not as much fun. I will see how my mind is tomorrow after I wake up and do my usual medications and meditations.
Also, sometimes when I leave the neighborhood, my brain opens up to all kinds of paranormal things, and I let some of them in. Sometimes they are very comforting. I know our home is well shielded, but there are so many times when I want to go out there, drop my shields, and shine like the weird paranormal beacon I apparently am, just so I can say hello to other dimensions.
I am glad I was raised to be skeptical. It helps me see everything from every angle and make my own decisions without strong external influences.

Part One: (and also this story is mostly stream of consciousness and probably will not make sense...)
"In an alien dimension, a thousand years in the future, I lived near a palace. My name was Annalira Lotus Rose Fox. My two middle names came about because after my birth, our ponds and gardens grew multi-colored lotus flowers and multi-colored wild roses when it should have been impossible.
My family was full of shapeshifters; the favored creatures were foxes and cats, falcons and owls, and so the family names reflected all of that. My parents were Foxes, and I should have been as well. I was the odd one out because I couldn't change shape, but parts of me could change in other, weird ways. My eyes changed between coffee and honey and periwinkle, my hair changed between dark chestnut and golden auburn and raven black, my skin changed between snow white and warm ivory and light bronze. Usually none of these color shifts matched and there were always bizarre shifts and combinations. I always wore cosmetics because I saw too many problems, always wanting to conceal blemishes and brighten colors. I became very skilled at mixing oils, creams, and skin potions for my siblings and cousins and friends, because I needed to for myself. I looked very young even as I approached adulthood, and one of my best friends decided that I would never look old. I laughed nervously every time she said that. She thought I was the most beautiful woman she knew, and I let her think that because beauty is always subjective. Her brother hinted that she was in love with me. One day I will tell her that I always knew and that I love her too. One day, I will learn telekinesis from her, because that is her biggest talent, and that day might be our first date. I will probably marry a man one day but I will probably marry her too.
I was the smallest and shortest one in my entire family. They nicknamed me Little Bright Fox, and said that while my voice was soft it carried for miles. My aura was giant, they said. When I played with magic, I could make my energies visible in a way nobody else could. Those energies were extremely shiny and multicolored, which was uncommon.
I didn't have any specific talent the way most people in my country had. I had several small skills that I often blundered through. I was a born storyteller and artist, a psychic sensitive and an empath in many ways. My parents sheltered me too much. My birth was upsetting and I nearly died several times. An Owl uncle and a Cat aunt both said that I was too close to the Veil Beyond and to other realms, that entities beyond the veil could sense me as much as I could sense them. I grew up with physical and neurological pains that the best medicine couldn't heal, neither technology nor sorcery. My family made sure I had the best they could offer, but the Owls and the Cats kept predicting hard and intense life roads for me. They gave me medicines for the brain seizures and the mental imbalances, for the muscle spasms, the body fatigues, the nerve damages. I would be lame and weak, delicate and fragile for the rest of my life, but the Falcons predicted that on the inside I would become steel and diamond, supernova and volcano.
When one of my Falcon cousins discovered that I was able to cross dimensions without suffering the usual side effects, she was unable to keep it a secret, and the royal family asked me to work for them. After reviewing my medical disabilities, they set up a special financial and benefits account for me so I would be protected during my interdimensional travels. Walking into the Between never damaged me in any way; the Queen and the royal doctors assumed it was because I had been born partially gripping the Veil Beyond in my psychic hands. All of my Walks in the Between actually felt good, energizing and electrifying in powerful ways. It was how I discovered some of my stronger hidden talents. By the time I had finished an unheard of dozen Walks in the Between without any negative effects, my name had spread across the country, for both good and ill..."

I ate breakfast while watching Clash Of The Gods on the History Channel. "Odysseus" was first, which was done very well, very action-packed and beautifully imagined. The attempts to link Odysseus' journey to historical fact seemed cute and generally plausible. I am watching "Beowulf" now. I am enjoying it, especially the possible historical links. However, I personally prefer the version told by Neil Gaiman and Robert Zemeckis.
I have been taking almost everything shown on the History Channel with a grain of salt, ever since watching a couple of doomsday "documentaries" featuring Nostradamus and Mayan calendars. I think I laughed myself into tears at one point. They do love to lay on the fear. But sometimes they do well, like when they talk about Edgar Cayce.

When I was in high school, I wrote my senior thesis on parapsychology and paranormal human abilities that might be actually true. I read books on Edgar Cayce, The Sleeping Prophet. My mother took me to New York City's Paranormal Society headquarters for research, and I spoke to doctors at Maimonides Medical Center in Brooklyn, where several of my cousins had been tested for psychic abilities. My father told me stories about his own unusual talents in his youth, and how he had suppressed most of them in the 1970s because he had scared friends and strangers alike with the accuracy of his premonitions. He showed me his old deck of Rider-Waite tarot cards, locked in a wooden box with several seals. We did a reading that sent chills up my spine. The cards occasionally hummed and vibrated. On the day of my wedding in 2005, when I was stressed and panicked beyond imagination, my father stroked my head a few times, pressed his index finger to my forehead, and sent an indescribable sense of calm and healing into my body. He did this to a few others that day, as well. When my father was in his surrealism phase with his paintings (between 1970 and 2000), all of his paintings were infused with a sort of energy that could be sensed by even the most staid nonbelievers. My parents are atheists, but they don't dispute the fact that my father's family actually has psychic abilities to some degree. Even my mother admits to a sixth sense in her own family.