Please Forgive Me

“Please forgive me, I can’t stop loving you, don’t deny me, this pain I’m going through, please forgive me” –Bryan Adams

This song is resonating with me today, among many other quotes but this one seems to be the one that stands out the most. Wish I could understand why one day my mind, body and soul are drawn to a certain song or lyric and the next day I don’t want to ever hear it again.

I feel like today I should be asking for forgiveness. Not sure to whom, but I feel so much guilt within the anguish that has come to create my overall being. I look at each of my scars and I remember the pain that each represents, the time of year it was placed there and the memory of what that scar mourns.

Today I was talking about my miscarriages to a friend and now that we aren’t talking about it I realize just how heavily it weighs on me when I talk about them. It’s hard to believe my little girl would be 5 already end of April early May. It’s even harder to believe that my oldest would be about 13 already, had I not miscarried. It’s weird to think that I have 7 children and of those seven I have two on earth and 5 in the heavens caring for and loving one another. The oldest and the youngest both have darker hair then the others. My kids know about the last loss, but they don’t know about all of the others. Sometimes it’s all I can do to not just express to my kids that they have many siblings, but then I realize that they were too young and don’t remember it and that for now its likely best to not bombard them with something I find extremely emotional to begin with.
I often dream of my girls in heaven, I see them playing, aging. Although the oldest seems to have stopped aging now like she is destined to have the innocence and look of a child forever. I don’t know how the heavens work, maybe it’s a choice she has made, or maybe it’s just how she manifests to me –as a child who will always need me. 

I guess the thing that allows me to move forward with this weight is that I know my angels are each safe. They never had to experience the pains of this world. Instead they have been blessed with eternal purity and unconditional love. 

I often feel so much guilt for losing them, as though it was my fault. Somehow I move forward though, even when I don’t want to. Maybe I stay here because a force bigger than myself wants me to or maybe it’s because deep down I don’t really want to leave. 

I am slowly adapting to having my empathic abilities basically shut off. I have been having more vivid dreams which are allowing me to at least wander to the outer realms and see and speak to the dead. Also some ghosts are coming in and what not but it is weird to be alone with my own thoughts for the most part. 

That’s the worse part, being alone with my own thoughts.

It’s different to say the least knowing that what you are thinking is actually what you are thinking, not what some spirit or entity is sending you. It’s weird to know that it’s all me. 

I went to buy bacon today and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. After finding out that pigs are the number one consumer of fish (to fatten then up) I am totally turned off even though the craving is there. I wish so badly that I had never found that out. Then again I am happy to know the truth about what my food is eating. It makes me sad that things are hidden from us. I have never eaten fish in my life. I am against it, yet here I find out bacon or pork in general has been feeding me something I am against. –Big sigh-

 

Locked

I feel like I am locked up tightly, rattling my own cage and begging to be freed from the prison that holds me safely within its grip. I have no idea why I have this sudden desire to be given that freedom back. I know that I will likely be attacked but I really don’t care today. I just want to be left alone, completely and utterly alone, possibly because I am feeling reckless and alone emotionally and I want the outside to feel the same as the inside.

Things are just crazy in my head today; they have been for a few days really. The anger and the rage I am feeling inside isn’t my own yet I feel devastated by it just the same, maybe because I don’t know where it is coming from.

I have been so drained by the small things that the big things are overwhelming me even further. Just seems like things are trying to stop me from experiencing those moments of freedom that I so desperately want and need. 

I feel watched. 

By whom or what I am not sure, it’s just a feeling but it causes gooseflesh to rise on my body from my toes to my head. I am feeling even more sensitive right now then I have in a while. Also more vulnerable and angry then I normally am. 

I have had a rough week. I have had a friendship completely fall apart because of someone’s idea of what my life should be like. I felt like I was being sucked into the cult like world that I so desperately escaped. I felt like I was being pulled into the insanity of my old life and maybe I was. I believe that my ex and this person were working together, a part of the same group, and were trying to brainwash me into coming back.

I was scared.

I ended the conversations with this person and blocked him from every angle I could think of. For some reason I feel guilty though, like it’s me who brings out the crazy in these people, or like I deserve it. I suppose in a lot of ways I have never fully healed, in a lot of ways I never healed at all. I just threw a bandage of two over top of the wounds and went on with life trying to avoid the past. Now the bandages are removed and the wounds are open, raw and bloody. I often wonder how many more scars I can receive before my body gives up and says enough is enough, or before my mind heals enough that this stuff quits with the seeping poisons leaving me.

I would love to write something slightly more profound but nothing comes to mind right now. I am sad, depressed, and angry and I don’t really have excuses for any of it. I just want to sleep and if I wake up then I wake up, if I don’t I don’t. I don’t understand how I can go from feeling okay to feeling so horrible so quickly.

Most of all I am lonely. I am starving for human touch, human love and attention. I want so badly to be wanted, so badly to be needed. I want someone to stroke my flesh and their energy cause chills to run through my entire being. I want my soul to connect to someone and become one, the way our bodies do when we make love.

I think I live in a fairy tale.

Does love like this even exist in todays’ world? I highly doubt it. Too many divorces for that kind of deep profound, unconditional love to exist in any meaningful capacity, as humans we have strayed so far from the plan of “perfect love” for our lives that most of us fail to experience true love and when we do we ruin it because society allows for it.

Coming full circle I realize that the cage that surrounds me isn’t just one I have put up. It’s been put up several times by different people, from my past and from my present, both with completely different intent.

I am trapped in a globe surrounded by both good and evil. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to escape. I want to disappear. 

Tomorrow I will be right back here where I have started. 

Locked within the confines of my own mind.

Dreams

I am sitting here in a somewhat drunken stupor even though I haven’t had anything to drink. My mind is moving so much faster than my fingers will allow and I am physically and mentally exhausted. I slept off and on most of the day today. 

My last nap resulted in a visit from my deceased grandfather. I never met him but I knew exactly who he was as we stood in the grass by the river where he died. He asked me several times quite angrily why he was not buried where his children are. I had no answer for him since he died over 40 years ago, long before I was even a speck of a speck.

He continued to explain he needed to know. So I had to find out for him, the reason was his parents demanding he be buried where he was born and raised. Makes a little bit of sense to me, but then again he made the decision to leave Saskatchewan and move to North Western Ontario. He has a wife and kids here.

I had always been told he killed himself and I was very shocked to find out from him that he didn’t do it that he “wouldn’t leave the girls, she (my grandma) didn’t even want them”. When I asked him how he ended up dead he told me that my grandma and the neighbour did it. He expressed to me the name of the neighbour and I was somewhat shocked as I hadn’t realized that he had been neighbours with my mom at any point. 

My grandpa then explained they did it for the insurance money which was supposed to go to the girls, which upon looking at his will, was in fact accurate; however, my aunts and mom never got a dime of that money.

The neighbour and my grandma were married within about 5 months of my grandfathers “suicide” adding more to the validity of this claim from the spirit world. I have no doubt he was my grandpa. I knew immediately upon seeing him who he was. The spiritual realm is an interesting one to say the least.

Upon awakening I called my mom as the dream was still fresh and explained everything to her. She wasn’t surprised by any of it and was actually shocked that I had seen her dad. She then continued to tell me about the location of the police, the alibi of her mother and the neighbour, etc. I don’t know if I brought her comfort or pain in my explanation of this dream, but I do know that her dad wanted the girls to all know he never wanted to leave them.

I get confused by dreams like this because most people are dead or gone from that time which makes investigating pretty difficult at best. I am not even sure he wants me to look into it. I think he wanted me to make sure my mom knew that he was “alive” and well and that he didn’t mean to hurt her.

So many details flooded into my brain as he was telling me and showing me what happened that fateful day. Many of which I wish I had never seen or known. The way I look at my grandma now (who is also dead) is different. How can a spirit come in and change how I feel about the woman who helped raised me? Yet, everything he said filled in all the blanks that she wouldn’t answer throughout her life.

The last vivid dream I had was with my grandma. In it she showed me the location of a hidden skeleton key, which upon awakening I promptly found. However, she has yet to tell me what it is for. So now I have this key that seems to not fit any locks. I placed it back in its secret location waiting for when I finally get to use it.

Now, I know many of you are probably thinking my dreams are just that, dreams. These aren’t like that. During the sleep I gain no rest. My mind remembers every detail of what was said or shown to me. I have been shown the past and the future and have never been shown inaccurate information. So, even though this man who my mom called Dad was gone long before I was ever born I have to trust what he said to be the truth, because if I don’t trust a desperate man sending a message to his kids how can I trust when another spirit comes to me and warns me of death etc.

My grandma came to me in a dream in the middle of August 03 and she congratulated me on being pregnant with a baby boy. I had no idea that I was pregnant. We were moving and I was using a lot of cleaning supplies and painting and stuff and then she appears to me in a vivid dream telling me that a baby boy is growing inside of me. I always tracked my cycle and when I was sexually active. I pinpointed the date of conception to be August 5th 2003. I was only about 6 days from conception. I used test after test after test until I finally got a positive a few weeks later. 

Turned out grandma was right about when I conceived, and the sex of the baby because I had my boy.

I cannot doubt these visions because they are all too often real. From wars, to deaths, to murders, I see so many things that I often fear to speak of. Sometimes this ability is more of a curse than it is a blessing. Sometimes it can be fun and even better is when it teaches me something I had no clue about and I have to go on the hunt for information in hopes of finding a conclusion.

Because of my life long struggle with “seeing” things I have been able to conclude that there is not only this physical realm but there are realms that run above us, below us and through us. Active, Knowing, realms that can just as easily enter into ours as we can enter into theirs! Some people call these parallel universes but to me they don’t run in straight lines parallel to one another, they cross over far too many times. They are just separate and only certain people are chosen to experience more than the one in which our physical bodies exist.

It is scary to think that in our soulful life we may experience all of these different places, but part of the fun is the climb and I just hope that as I hop from one place to the next that what I have experienced and learned in each place is something I am able to bring with me. 

Sadism

I haven’t written in a few days. Been dealing with my own chaos as well as bad weather, poor internet connection and a person who I thought I was friends with showing his true colors as a backstabbing, manipulative liar. To say the least, I have been run through the ringer emotionally once again. Seems like I am always fighting to stay above water and the current is working just as hard to pull me under. 

Why do crazy people seek me out and make me the object of their obsession?

I am not pretty, I am overweight and I am mostly bitchy, especially if you are a stranger. Is that really what attracts people? I guess the crazy ones it does. The last 48 hours have been very eventful in my eyes, which have unfortunately led to a lot of shed tears, a lot of terror, flashbacks and anxiety. 

Having someone saying things about God using the exact same words as the man who held you for nearly five years against your will were very much unexpected. I never thought in a million years that I would see those words pop up on my screen yet there they were. The more I argued with them the more they were forced down my throat. I was told it was my choice yet I made my choice perfectly clear over and over and the “truth” was forced down my throat no matter what I said. 

I was scared, too scared to hit the block button.

So, today I am crying and sad and allowing those fears to wash over me like waves. Wondering if my ex really is involved the way I now believe him to be. Seven years since I escaped and for the first time I am realizing that I am no freer than I was before I left. If anything, I am more confined and isolated now because I can’t and don’t trust anyone to be a part of my life.
The one person I do love and trust with every aspect of my being was accused of brainwashing me, of being a cult leader and of pulling me away from “god and the light”. 

To clarify, I am not brainwashed by anyone right now. I was brainwashed when I was with my ex, I know the difference between being brainwashed and being cared for. 

In all honesty, if this person was to brainwash me, I wouldn’t be overly angry. He would only ever do what’s best for me. I know that and I would never question his motive.

I assume that must hurt the radical who is after me trying to force me into his world because I never offered him my trust, devotion, dedication or even obedience. I never cared if my actions hurt him or made him happy. 

The person attacked in my conversation receives my devotion, dedication and obedience (when I am asked something, and YES it is still my choice) because I choose to give of myself in ways I have never desired before. In exchange he is there for me, he sticks up for me, he makes me feel safe, and when I am too down to rationalize he can somehow manage to get in and allow me to see the truth in what he is saying.

Anyway, that is what has been going on the last few days. I am sure I will have more to say tomorrow or the next day. My mind is still in defence and panic mode. I need time to process and file what has went on so that I can actually comprehend everything that has transpired over the last few days.

On a happier note, the pneumonia I had seems to be almost completely gone, although I am still using inhalers. My back however is aching like crazy in the location that the bruises from a month ago had been. I hope I am not re-bruising, but that’s what it feels like.

I hope everyone who reads this is doing well. If you understand trauma I am sure you understand what I am talking about when it comes to the terror, triggers and general fear.

I’m going to bed now my friends!

One Last Long Walk

Taking that final walk through the dense woods with my shoes long gone and a rope holding my wrists too tight behind my back with my hair disheveled and full of small twigs and leaves as tears stain my cheeks as he holds me by my upper arm preventing me from running away, I beg him to not do this, to not leave me here. I tell him I love him that I can be good, that I will try harder. The tears streaming down my face compel him to turn me around and look at me, I keep my eyes cast down, where they are supposed to be. He tells me to look at him so I carefully raise my eyes to meet his. 

He spits in my face and calls me a liar. I tell him I will do anything. He looks like he is enjoying this game and he pushes me down to the damp cool forest floor. As I struggle to get into a position that doesn’t hurt, he quickly grabs my hair and yanks me back to a standing he tilts my head back and I look into his eyes. Without saying a word I know he is going to give me one final chance. 

I don’t know if I am relieved to live as his captive or if death would have been the easier escape. The fact that I am sitting here able to write this all these years later leaves me to wonder, wonder a lot of things. 

Tonight I learned something that I was told over and over and over again. I am a mistake, from the moment of conception, to every word I say now. I am a fuck up. 

“I said go.... it’s bad enough I have been sitting here panicking and crying for hours... then I get back online and you make me feel stupid and get mad at me because of the way I word something even though you know full well I am freaking out.

Punish me, like everyone else does... that’s all I am a fuck up who needs punished... I’m a fucking retarded stupid bitch. I am bad. I should be dead and I am not. I’m stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.” –from a chat convo I was having.

Up Hill Both Ways!

I guess I got through the anniversary relatively unscathed. I did suffer a bit of regression including talking in third person, being dissociative and having nightmares and a wandering mind. I thought about killing myself. I even had all of the stuff laid out ready but in the end I just couldn’t do it. Maybe I didn’t want to. I have been reckless with my life, to say the least and had I not had pneumonia the result likely wouldn’t have been the same. 

Today, the 20th, I woke to vivid dreams, again. I later had a nap and had a vivid nightmare. The internet is not working well and there is a big winter storm going on so for whatever reason I decided I should try and go out in it. The car struggled big time to make the hill, but I did make it, spinning the entire way up with little to no control over where the car was actually going. I was thinking I should go into town and to the cemetery. When I got to the highway, there was a pulp truck with his load on jack-knifed into the ditch instead of making the corner turning onto the road that leads to the mill. I figured at that point that maybe I should turn around, easier said than done with little visibility and unplowed roads with about a foot of fresh unplowed snow, but I managed, which is amazing since my backing up skills are just as good as my math skills!

I was able to make it back up the hill (yes uphill both ways does in fact exist). The hard part was getting back down the steep hill that I had spun all the way up. I had to go turtle slow, and still struggled to keep my car going where I wanted it to. I got back into the yard and got stuck twice while trying to park the car in a decent place so that when Clayton (my generous neighbour) decides to plow tomorrow that I am out of the way. He often plows before I get up and it is a wonderful surprise to see it already done. Which is great as it leaves me with the ability to just shovel around the car, brush it off and go. He has been very generous in his time and money to keep my yard cleared for me without me ever even asking him. Maybe it’s a case of “boys with their toys”. 

So, today aside from nightmares and feeling extremely isolated and alone because of my dreams and because of my internet I guess I am doing okay. My anxiety is peaked because of that lonely feeling and my thoughts are making it even worse. That trapped feeling is not sitting well and as I type this that is exactly what I am –trapped. The phone line is so weighed down with snow it is into my shrub lines. I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up stranded with no phone or power tonight. This really would be detrimental.

Tomorrow by the look of things will be a snow day for my dad and family. Hopefully I can manage to escape these walls and burn off this extra energy that is plaguing my brain.

I see the net is off again. Flashing blue lights that seem to be just as paralyzing to me as the click of a padlock. The loneliness and the torture are quite similar feeling in my heart and gut. It’s weird how a sound or a signal can have such an adverse effect on my overall well-being.

Life is hard.

I often wonder how long it will be before things begin to get better for me, or if they will get better at all. I am so drained both mentally and physically from all the emotional build up and from being sick that it would be nice to come down and just be me for a while before the next great build up.

My birthday has already been brought up though and I am dreading it (as I do every year). I didn’t like it being brought up; I didn’t like the mention of a surprise. I hate my birthday, as I do all times of the year where there is an expectation of gifts or money. You would think that because it is your birthday people would respect that you don’t have a desire to celebrate it, but instead they go all out trying to make you feel better. If only people would listen they would realize that no acknowledgement at all would be my ideal gift. ***big sigh***

I guess I am done blabbing on for today. Got a little bit of everything off my chest even though there is a whole lot more playing games inside. Maybe one day I will have the courage to express everything I have experienced and why I am so easily triggered, but that’s been a long time in the making and it has been much easier to hold up that shield and protect myself from the outside in and the inside out. 

Forced Enslavement

For the first time in my life I am expressing things in an unemotional and point of fact manner on how I was trained and taught and degraded. I don’t know if this is a good idea or not, but it felt great last night to finally be able to express these truths to someone who wasn’t looking to judge me or pull me away. With his permission and some grammar and spell check editing, as well as his privacy in mind I have decided to post the more intense part of our conversation for all to see. I warn you ahead of time, that this depicts how I was trained and tortured with little emotion. It is fact. It may be difficult for some to read and others may blame me and wonder how I got into this in the first place. If I knew how or why I wouldn’t have fallen victim the way I did. BDSM can be a wonderful fulfilling way to enjoy one another when it is practiced in a safe, sane and consensual way, but when forced upon you the way it was me, it can be the hell you most fear. I was forced to live my life for several years with these basics. I haven’t gone into specific punishments or tortures or anything else because it is embarrassing and humiliating, to say the least. If you know me well you have likely heard several of those stories anyway.

Anyway, this is the basic concept of the life I was forced to live for all those years. I have spent much time trying to figure out the how and why behind the things I underwent and I can’t find an answer to why anyone would force someone into this life, especially when there seems to be an abundance of willing participants. If you are angered easily by the victimization of women you likely shouldn’t read further.

Today is the anniversary of my escape, which is what prompted this conversation in the first place.

dave: training for what?

meanddoxie: speaking, not speaking, positions, sex, enslavement
dealing with panic and fear, pain, bondage, punishment... punishments from
him were very cruel, he knows what he is doing

meanddoxie: it was him who decided that stripping of the name would be useful, because it wasn’t earned

meanddoxie: when I used to present myself to him. Hell his girl now prob still does it cause he is military trained and strict... so when I used to present to him (present is when you stand naked, legs shoulder width apart, fingers laced behind your head, your lips not fully closed and your eyes cast down.) one you assume the "present" or "inspect" position he would have me say "this is m, Your slave.." then I would have to say what I was wearing or not wearing, how I was feeling or not feeling etc., as part of the presentation... at which time I would be inspected for marks, signs of
playing with myself, hygiene, etc.... 

meanddoxie: at that point I was to report any illness I was experiencing or discomfort (from bondage, pregnancy, etc) and then ask permission to have those things changed or altered if I thought they should be, if he didn’t they were not.

meanddoxie: At the end of a day you would kneel at the end of the bed, or wherever your Master told you to, and I would have to keep my legs spread slightly (you have to always be accessible) and then I would have to confess all of my transgressions that day and accept punishment for any misdoings.

meanddoxie: after being punished you have to thank your Master for correcting you... the Master , who helped train me, required that after every single slap or whip across my flesh that I would say count it out so "one sir thank you sir. two sir thank you sir" and if I took too long to say it or lost count, the numbers started again

dave: that’s sick

meanddoxie: I don’t have post-traumatic stress for nothing.... although I think this is the first time I have ever actually went into detail about living life forced into sex slavery...

dave: why tell me then? good therapy to talk about it?

meanddoxie: guess I needed to talk about it, you are the safest to tell... 

dave: I’m honoured I guess.... why am I "safe" to talk to?

meanddoxie: when kneeling, especially at first, if I complained or asked to switch positions because it HURTS they would put a tray of uncooked rice down for me to kneel on instead, so that I would think twice before complaining about kneeling without it...

meanddoxie: because I know how mean you can get and I can trust that. I don’t know how mean other people can get. plus, I have talked to you in depth about stuff more than anyone, I trust you with this stuff, and that you won’t judge me or hate me or try to take me over because of it

dave: I’m listening

dave: for once

meanddoxie: anything you wanna know?

meanddoxie: or any questions?

dave: you're very clear, what questions could I have?

meanddoxie: it’s a life I doubt you ever heard much of, thought you may have some is all...

dave: no

meanddoxie: when you first enter into this shit they force you to sign a contract, which lists everything from expectations, punishment, timing, schedules, etc., then it says at the bottom that all of the above is subject to change at the will of your Master... they can starve you, they can sleep deprive you, they can force feed you, they can make you pee on the floor and lick it up.. they have control... and they have your name signed on a contract saying so, to humiliate you if you try to get away

dave: why would someone willingly get into that kind of relationship?

meanddoxie: lots of people want it; surprisingly... it’s called TPE-total power exchange. Lots of people are naturally submissive and they thrive off of not having to deal with the chaos of everyday life because they know that stuff is in their Master's hands and all they have to do is satisfy him. Only, when I signed my name I was tied up and being whipped, forced to sign, they aren’t legally binding, but they fuck you up psychologically

meanddoxie: lots of men are deciding to become slaves to their wives, and in reality, if its SSC then fine, great, you’re not breaking any laws, but when you lose the SSC you are breaking about 15 laws

dave: ssc?

dave: signed sealed contract?

meanddoxie: safe sane consensual

If you or anyone you know are victims of domestic abuse/violence or you suspect may be, call your local womans shelter for more information. Prompt the person to get assistance. I was almost killed, I am someones daughter, mother and sister. It can and does happen to anyone, no one is exempt. Although my case may be more intense than most, being victimized in any way is against the law. Please call your local authorities, 911, attend the hospital and tell them you were assaulted or go to the womens shelter. You are not alone!

Why Me?

I have so much to say about this day and tomorrow but I have no words to utter my extreme regret, sympathy, anger and loss. 

There are no words to portray the emotions that are held so deep down inside of me that are slowly poking their heads out in an attempt to escape. The tears have been streaming down my face now for several days. My mood has been off, I feel lost inside of myself. Maybe because I am sick with a chest infection, but it’s definitely no secret that I was almost killed seven years ago, tonight. 

I fought so hard to survive and I sit here pondering the question “what for?” I haven’t a clue who I am or why I am or what led me to this place so that I would survive or what it is I am supposed to do with this knowledge I have about being the ultimate victim when no one else can actually comprehend, accept or begin to understand. 

I am not a psychology book and I don’t fit into any one category. Making my trauma even more difficult to accept because no one knows how to treat it, how to deal with it. I am an emotional being and I am travelling about this place wearing my emotions on my cheeks in the form of tears, on my flesh in the form of cuts and scars, and in my mind in the form of an eternal turmoil that never subsides. The embers that spark this painful fire within me never seem to burn out, even when the flame is low the embers are red hot waiting for some oxygen so then can flare up. 

Is that what I have come to be? 

A burning ember waiting for someone to fuel the fire!

Words, cannot describe the deep sense of loss that I was forced to experience because of my ex and his family.

I have never had the chance to mourn the loss of myself. Those five long, gruesome years spent in the world as a toy, chattel to be traded or sold. I missed out on my adolescence because I was trapped in hell. I missed out on my early twenties because even though I had physically escaped my mind was still trapped. I lost my possessions, my house, my children, and my identity. I became and still am, a shell of the person I once was.

Have you ever lost everything all in one swoop?

I did, I still don’t know how to grieve or how to deal with those losses. Some of it seems so superficial while at the same time it feels like a personal attack at who I am, who my family was.

Why do I still get threatened?

Why am I made to know I am unfinished business and that although I have escaped physically that I always will be a mere possession that needs to watch its back because the battle isn’t over? 

I wait.

I wait for those hands to grab me from behind and for me to see my freedom leave me for the last time. I know it’s just a matter of time before I am grabbed and never let go, not out the door anyway. Next time, I will leave tightly locked in a box or trunk, maybe a bag. I won’t be unfinished business twice. I won’t scar their reputations as Masters and trainers again. It won’t be allowed. I was their first mistake, and we each know that it’s only a matter of time before they rectify that problem.

I imagine in my head and when I sleep what the dungeon looks like now, where it is. I look on sites to see what’s available now. Lots of stuff puts the fear of god in me. Knowing how painful it would be and how restrictive. It’s horrifying to see these new products and know that you’re likely going to meet your fate with some of them. I see how easy it is to find drugs or recipes for drugs online, I wonder how many time I will be put out as I fight or if I even will fight the inevitable. 

Knowing what it’s like to survive leaves me wishing I had known this gut wrenching pain would follow wherever I go for the rest of my life. I may have thought twice 7 years ago when I fought to escape, and allowed them to kill my instead.

I guess the only real question I have about all of this is “Why me?”

Life After Death

“The realization that after I die I will always exist scares me” –Me

I was talking to a friend the other day and she commented that she was scared that once she dies she will no longer exist; the above quote was my immediate reply. I have no doubt in my mind that there is an afterlife. I think that the way the world is progressing towards the paranormal being normal that the idea of an afterlife is becoming mainstream, even in those who do not believe in a god(ess).        

The TV shows, the ghost hunts, the events, mediums and psychics and empaths are all coming out of the wood-work for the first time in a very long and oppressive history. It’s not like when I was young and there were psychic hotlines that you called a 1-900 number for and paid four dollars an hour, but these are real people, with real gifts, all trying to figure out where they fit in and what exactly they are. The support is amazing if you find the right community.

It is interesting to be on this journey with so many people who don’t think I am crazy but instead are willing to guide and nurture and grow alongside me. I have no doubt in the afterlife because I have borne witness to it. I have seen the dead; I have spoken with them, psychically, physically, and through dreams.

I have been attacked by evil entities. If you click on the side bar where it says “Attacked” you will see what happened to me January 26th while chatting about the paranormal. I know this stuff is real, because I have experienced it all first hand.

Does it mean we all die and are left to roam the planet with no end in sight? No, it means we are no longer attached to our physical being. We are two separate entities as we sit right now, physical and spiritual. When the physical dies our spirit moves on, sometimes it goes to paradise or heaven or whatever your faith may call it. Other times it may decide to stay here in a refusal to go, while even more often (in my experience) you recycle your soul and once again choose life.

Choosing life means you are reincarnated for lack of any other fitting word. It means you are born again into a body. Your soul is back here attached to a body.

I have some very random thoughts on reincarnation and what it really means. However, these are just my thoughts and are likely not shared by many, although they may get some to think.

The first is that our spirit/soul has a choice to come back in the form of a human.

The second, and harder to grasp one is that earth itself is hell. We live our lives and we die.

If we are good we have the option, enter into heaven, stay as a ghost, or go back to earth to spread the word and our knowledge as our soul doesn’t forget the way our minds do.

However, here is the catch, if you have not fulfilled your spiritual mission here on earth you are sent back, sometimes for punishment, sometimes just because you didn’t finish what you needed to.

I do believe though that in the case of free will that you do have a choice, you can either come back repeatedly and try again until you satisfy the gods and earn your pass to the other side, or you can linger as a spirit for as long as necessary, that being eternity, or until you have paid your debt to the most high.

Told you my thoughts on death and the afterlife were a little bit out there. You may need to read it several times to understand fully what I am saying. I am sick after all and I am not overly sure how much sense any of this is making as I read and write.

I may end up coming back to edit, I may not. It depends on my mood. I love to leave things the way I thought them because it seems rawer when it is unedited. It gives a glimpse into my soul and into the depths of my mind.

Since starting this blog/journal I have been called intelligent and deep. I have caused people confusion and I have had others come back to re-read what I wrote. I have also re-read all of my posts and have caught many typos but have not corrected them.

I don’t try to be intelligent or deep. I just write how I am feeling at the moment. In most cases I have no clue what I am going to say when my fingers start to move or where it will end up once I have begun.

Today, instead of whining about anniversaries and fear I am embracing death in its most raw and natural form –the spirit, for death is only an illusion seen by the human eye, the spirit sees the truth and allows death to not be something to fear instead it gives us hope because our spirit will live on in whatever manner we should choose for it. Do a good job here and the afterlife will be great, or so I am told.

Full Circle

Slowing down and putting life back into normal speed now. It was a busy couple of days with over 250km put on the car running from here to there and back again. Sometimes, I enjoy the hectic schedule that I can barely keep straight in my mind because it keeps my thoughts from going to other places. It was fun to scream in public and cheer on the boys but that is over with for a day now and I am happy to be back to normal. I am frozen to the bone, the minus 40 wind-chill mixed with sitting on ice and having a drafty old house definitely aren’t conducive to being warm. 

Yesterday night I found myself in the graveyard instead of on the way home. I sat there in the car staring down the row to where my cousin is. I can remember the names of many of the people in his row from visiting so often and taking care to not step on anyone. The solar light I placed on his grave nearly 3 years ago is no longer working, so this summer I will have to find another one with the shepherds hook to place next to his headstone. It bothers me to think that he goes to bed each night without a nightlight, laying cold and stiff in a cemetery full of bodies. I often sit there and think he died when I was 9, which is about 18 years ago. I asked the funeral home 3 years ago how long an embalmed body lasts and they told me that if the casket is made of something that doesn’t break down quickly that after ten years there should only be a small amount of mold on a properly embalmed body. I wonder with it being nearly double that what shape his body is in. Does he still look at peace or is his flesh rotting away, maybe he is merely a box of bones by now. I can still picture his almost black hair done so nice and his bluish color casket sitting over the grave as people sobbed and cried. I feel like I am trying to fill in gaps, either for myself, or for him. I was so young; I shouldn’t remember all that I do. Some of what I do remember I wasn’t even there for (example, I never saw his body, yet I know how he looked). 

I don’t understand why I have this extreme desire to go sit there and silently think. 

I don’t like it as much now that my grandma is buried behind him in the next row, I feel like she listens to me and continues to judge me even now that she is dead. I really hate to say it, but I have a lot of contempt towards her. I thought when she died that I would be able to forgive her transgressions against me, but I haven’t been able to. I haven’t wanted to. Now that she has passed I feel even more motivated to walk away from the “family”. I have the papers to change my last name. I just haven’t done it yet because I am not sure if I want to not have the same last name as my children. Part of me wants to hold onto my last name because I do have respect for my Grandpa. He never hurt me the way the rest of the family has. He never betrayed me or became a traitor and it is his last name that I carry, not hers, yet somehow I feel like I am connected in ways I don’t want to be because of this name.

I remember seeing the shadows darting about while I was in the bathtub on that May 1st, it was a Saturday. I got out knowing those shadows meant death. I was drying off when the phone rang and my mom told me my grandma was dead. I called my grandpa and asked if he wanted me to do anything. He asked me to go to the old age home where she was being cared for as she was suffering from dementia and was getting progressively violent.

I went.

When I went into her room she was lying in bed, her arms folded gently across her, her mouth gaping open as all bodies seem to do as their soul escapes. She was empty. She was a body that didn’t even look like her. My aunt was crying and she hugged me. I told her some Christian quote about death to make her feel better. I requested a minister and the doctor to explain what happened. I call him doctor death as he is always the one who seems to give me the news. My dad stood in the corner looking on in a very stoic manner. Maybe he wasn’t sure if he should cry or be grateful that she was no longer suffering. The rest of the family slowly trickled in to say their goodbyes and see for themselves that she was in fact dead. I sat in the window like a shadow in the dark and watched as the iced rain fell.

I thought about the irony of it all. My uncle (knuckle Gary) was out of town with my aunt as her mom had passed away only days before. The plane had barely landed when he got the call that his mom had also died. In a way, I thought this was good. For most spouses they can only support each other but never really understand when their parent dies, but in this case they both lost their mothers, they were both mourning. My aunt’s mom’s funeral was on the Thursday I believe. My grandma’s viewing was on May 7th, the funeral on May 8th, and the burial was on the 10th. I don’t know why they decided to drag it out like she was the queen or something. A three day funeral was my first, and hopefully my last. Only a small group of the 400 of us attended the burial. We then went to my uncle’s house and had some spiked coffee. I couldn’t think about much else but the irony.

I recall complimenting my aunts brother’s girlfriend (now wife) Linda, who sang amazing grace with a southern accent graveside. She did an awesome job with one of my favorite songs. She just broke out singing as we all stood there like confused fools.

She died when my baby girl would have been due had she survived.

I was and maybe still am mad at her for trying to steal that date from me.

On May 2nd, the day after her death, I was sitting on the bed thinking about my little girl and I looked at the clock and it was eleven in the evening. I was in bed for the night. Wearing my jammies and thinking about my lost babies. The next thing I know, I am in the graveyard on Todd’s grave, in the iced rain, soaked to the bone and fully clothed. I had and still have, no recollection of what transpired between eleven pm on the second and two am on the 3rd that resulted in me being a 20 minute drive from home in a graveyard soaked and crying. I picked myself up, in a zombie like state and went to my running car. The gas tank was full and it had been on empty, so I knew I had stopped somewhere to get gas. The dog was in the backseat and when I read the clock and saw I had lost some three hours of time I was scared.

I went home.

The next morning, I went to the doctor.

I was diagnosed with having a dissociative fugue caused by the stress of everything that had transpired during what is already a hard time for me. I was given fast acting dissolving sedatives to get through the next few weeks. Had I not had to deal with funerals and what not, I likely would have been hospitalized.

I was even more broken.

I was scared.

There is no worse feeling then knowing that you suffer from suicidal ideations and knowing that you can slip into a dissociative state and do anything in that time frame without having any awareness of it when you come back to this side of reality. For the first time in my life I was scared of myself. If I could get gas, drive, get dressed, but the dog in the car, etc., all without knowing it, what else am I capable of?

It is that very break that causes me worry now. Next time I may not be so lucky, I may never wake up because I killed myself and didn’t even know it. That is scary. That is fear. That is the scariest lack of control I have ever had in my life.

Today, February 11th, is my ex’s birthday. It gives me chills to type that. Another year gone by, if I am not mistaken he is 31 today. I don’t remember celebrating his birthday 7 years ago. I suppose it was likely traumatic and I blocked it out. I have blocked out a lot of things, some of which come back to me in the forms of nightmares or flashbacks. I am mad at myself for blocking stuff out. It’s weird to think that in order to learn from the past I have to forget so much of it and it is scary to think that I KNOW this was a week of hell for me yet everything I do recall from that week is in fragments, like a shattered mirror that can never be fixed no matter how much glue you use, the cracks will always be there. Seven more days and it will be seven years from that fateful night.

Seven.

Survivor

"You've got what it takes but it hurts" –me

As I sit here staring at this blank page I wonder if the quote I put above really holds true. Everyone keeps telling me how strong I am yet I feel so weak. I have been told many times in the recent past that I am a survivor and that I will get through this. The question I pose is “who says I want to?” Quite optimistic of me, I know. 

The fact is I am a survivor, I keep fighting to survive and I always do. The scary part is knowing that I am trapped in this hell for an unknown amount of time and not knowing whether things will ever get any better than they are today, or yesterday or the weeks and years before. If this is my life, maybe I don’t want it. Maybe I don’t want to feel every negative feeling. Maybe I don’t want to live through tragedy after tragedy. 

I have talked to elderly people and they say that the worse part of growing old is that everyone you know is passing on and that you never really know when it will be your turn. You’re in constant mourning. Well if that’s what I have to look forward to then is it really something I want. To date I have lost 30 some people that I was close to at one point or another. Death came down and he swiped them away from me with little warning. How many people do most people lose in a lifetime? How can you always move forward knowing that your list of loved ones consistently grows shorter and shorter? 

I regret fighting to survive. I regret not allowing myself to be murdered. I wonder how many people have that regret. I bet the number is low, or admitting it is low anyway but I am not afraid to say I wish I wouldn’t have fought so hard to live. If I had known these feelings would haunt me all these years later I likely wouldn’t have fought. I survived but I don’t live. Attaching myself to people hurts in the end because one way or another they leave or they change into someone who they weren’t when you first began to love them. 

I guess maybe I do have what it takes to survive, but I also know it hurts. It hurts so deep down that you feel like you are drowning on your own tears. It crushes the air out of your lungs and you can’t even gasp for air.

I feel like I am being redundant in my posts and maybe I am but that’s because the feelings haven’t really changed. 

I was just listening to God Bless the Broken Road and the first verse grabbed my attention tonight. 

“I set out on a narrow way many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you”

Now I know this song has to do about god paving the way to the one you love and in reality I guess I have to accept that some unseen force is setting me up for whatever the future holds, which is why I decided to post this first verse. It makes me ponder on the past in hopes that I will have learned and that the future will be brighter and full of love the way life was intended to be. We are each born with the right person being created for us somewhere else. It’s up to us to stumble upon the souls we are meant to connect with and to nurture those connections into life-long relationships. Whether its friend or more. It’s also a decision we need to make at some point in regards to our friends because we can’t necessarily choose who we love, but we can choose who we have in our life and by removing a person from your life doesn’t make that love any different. It just means your acting on an instinct of self-preservation. We all have had to make those choices, whether it was a conscious decision or one that was made for us by the powers around us.

Loss hurts. It sucks. Sometimes losing a loved one hurts even more when they are alive and you have no choice but to remove them from your life. Sometimes some of us just grow up faster than others and even though our souls are genuinely connected our lives no longer can intermingle. Our values change, our morals develop and we enter into a phase of life where we know who we are not, finding who we are is a whole other struggle, but in finding who you are not is a big step in the right direction in finding what or who you are. At least I hope that’s the case.

I have come to realize that not only am I against organized religion, but I am also not Christian the way I had thought over the last several years. Many things have changed in the what I am not category, but filling the who am I category is seemingly much harder. 

Parts of me sits in wait hoping that someone will pop up and say “this is who you are, this is what you will do and this is why” and leaves no room for question or debate. It’s perplexing how much I actually miss not having to think for myself. I still slip up and on occasion as if I can use the washroom, or get food, etc. It was beaten and trained into me to a point that I almost feel like I don’t have an identity without that slave collar. I know I am NOT a slave, yet I do miss the simplicity of not having to think for myself at times. I also miss someone wanting to know my every thought, no matter how pathetic or mundane. I even miss, on occasion, being punished for things I have thought or done. I guess I crave that attention when I am at my lowest points. At least in those moments of being beaten I knew I was the focus. I was wanted, I was being trained, and I was the center of attention. I don’t like the attention I get now. I tend to shy away from it, partly in fear of being punished. I guess we can add confused to the who I am list, because that is one thing I definitely am.

I will never get into that kind of relationship again, but as I said in my last post, I know I need someone stronger than me, someone who challenges me and gives me meaning. I can’t be the one who makes the decisions and takes action that part of me was taken away a long time ago and through journaling and therapy I have come to realize that I need that strength so I can remain strong. I feed off of the emotions and demeanor of the people who surround me, so if you are weak I am weak; if you are strong I am strong. It’s interesting how I have come to grips with this reality, but I assume it is here to stay and I think I can be okay with that.

 

Not Afraid to Admit What I Need

Today, I am lonely. More than I have been in a few months. It’s very strange to realize how dependant you become one someone’s actual presence verses just their spiritual one. Not to say that physical presence is actually real because it is over the computer but it was definitely missed today. 

My mind was left to wonder who was where and why. I didn’t blame myself though, but it was very weird to depend only on myself for the first time in quite a while. Yes I know I should be doing that regardless of people in my life or not but that’s easier said than done. Plus, aren’t we all here looking for companionship and that desire that seems to have disappeared as careers and education got in the way? 

I am not afraid to admit that I do in fact need the strength of a man in my life, the context doesn’t matter, just the existence of a man who is stronger than me and who can talk me down and cheer me up whether I like it or not. Someone whose mind is more intense than my own leaving me eager for more and never completely fulfilled because the story isn’t over. Does this person need to be a lover? No. Yet, somehow they win my heart regardless not because they love me but because they respect me and they teach me and I am eager to listen and learn, even when I fight and argue. I honestly believe that we really need someone in our lives whether it’s a friend, or a lover, who we can depend on and who we can reciprocate those things with. I don’t believe that men and woman are equal but I do believe we are equally important to the success and to the failures that occur in our lives. Maybe I don’t need a man, or anyone, to be happy, but the fact is I want one to share my life with, the good and the bad. 

When I first moved here I remember people asking me how I (a girl) could live alone in the middle of nowhere without being scared, I always kindly replied with “how can a person feel safe living in town with a hundred strangers walking by each day?” There is no traffic out here, when there is I know why and for the most part who. I feel safe in my hiding place down in the valley. Well, as safe as one who is terrified of being kidnapped and killed can feel.

It’s amazing to me that in ten days it will have been seven years since I was nearly killed. It wouldn’t bother me so much if I hadn’t been triggered at Christmas or had flipped my world upside down over the last few months. It is hard to believe I am saying and doing things that back in November I never would have imagined would be once again part of my life. Only this time I am older, I am wiser, I am more intelligent and therefore more willing to study and learn instead of just making a proclamation and reading bits and pieces of a book or two. This time I know it is who I am and what I want and I am willing to understand and learn the boring stuff so that the more fun interesting stuff will be respected properly. Not like when I was a kid and playing games with these religions. I learned enough about Wicca to realize that my head and heart should be there and not playing games with a god that I don’t believe in, who offers no answers except to have faith.

What is faith anyway?

I have pushed a lot of people away in the recent months because of their lack of strength and self-esteem bringing me down. Heck, not even the lack, but the unwillingness to take steps in bettering themselves. Who wants to talk to a brick wall all day? I sure don’t. Although I continue to love each person whom I have had to walk away from I love each of them unconditionally and only had to stop conversing because it was becoming damaging to my own health, giving me anxiety, making me absorb things that I wasn’t sure of. So many people came to me and found me because I was a Christian and they expected me to have all the answers. Now that I have denounced god those same people act like I betrayed them because I don’t believe in god anymore. Maybe I never did but that proclamation changed everything with many people, like my advice and my assistance is no longer wanted because god isn’t my backing.

Not too much makes sense to me right now.

It is hard to figure out the truth about who I am because I really have no clue where to start. All those people who left me, or who I left have been replaced by people who are understanding and from many different faiths.

I am confused.

I am tired.

Most of all, I am me! 

As I walk along this path and take this journey I know people will come in and out of my life and that each one of them will in some way change my view on things forever. Each opportunity to communicate is an opportunity to learn and therefore better myself so I can be the best person I can be.

I am almost 27 years old (yikes) and I really haven’t accomplished much if you decide to do a timeline of my life. So many people who are younger than me have the credentials and the jobs and all the stuff I had expected, but I guess in a way I have more than all of them combined because I have knowledge, I have life experience. That isn’t anything you can buy, no matter how much you’re willing to pay.

Rationalizing the Irrational

“I can only wonder how touching you would make me feel, but if I take that chance right now, tomorrow will you want me still?”

I started writing this yesterday, as you can tell I wrote a quote from a song and nothing else. My mood the last few days has been unstable, to say the least. I have been bouncing between excited and almost hyper to extreme exhaustion with no real reason. I was a bitch to a lot of people over the last few weeks, including towards myself. I said last night that I thought I deserved to be punished for my past, my present, and I suppose the future as well. Yesterday I hated myself, pure anger, rage and hate. I have never felt that intense before. I realize that the 7 year thing is coming up sooner than later and I am hoping to get my emotions in check after that. 

It seems like it is always one bad memory after another causing my anxiety, or an event, like a holiday that have triggers of their own to upset me. 

Being smacked with the realization that I can run but never get away from the skeletons that plague me is a horrific idea that I reckon I am going to have to come to terms with, before I end up in a psych ward restrained chemically and physically because of the thoughts that have been surfacing regarding my little demons. When you scare yourself, you should be worried. In these moments I know I am capable of anything and that is where the fear arises. Is tonight the night I kill myself? Likely not, but yesterday was a different story, and intense story full of emotions of love, lust, anger and overall pain. 

The sun is out again today which means it’s going to get cold again. Funny how the clouds lift and the warmth of the sun can’t penetrate a Canadian winter without the assistance of the clouds holding the heated air down. 

Yes, going off topic, not that I ever have a topic, I just ramble on and people read. It’s interesting that people care about people they don’t even know and spend hours every day reading blog posts, tweets and status updates on Facebook. 

Anyway, that realization that my thoughts will haunt me wherever I go is truly scary. I don’t want to deal with this stuff, I don’t know how and somehow when I do work on dealing with it, it’s like cutting open an old wound, and it just causes thicker, deeper scars. Do I really need more scars? I have no clue how people like Shawn Hornbeck and Jaycee Duggard are so able to move forward in life and enjoy things. I assume it must be a façade, a lie, to get all the naïve non-victims of the world to just accept that everything is great and that they are strong and brave and can move on. I can’t have moments of silence, moments with my own thoughts, because those thoughts drift back to a past that I can’t escape. The chains may no longer hold me firm, but the psychological bindings are even stronger then the physical ones I used to deal with. 

How can I feel so dead inside, yet experience so much pain? Does death really hurt this badly? Am I actually just so alive that the feelings floating by take the air from my lungs and cause tears to roll down my face because living is just that overwhelming? I am overwhelmed. I know that.

I hate doing all of this “healing” and self-reflection alone. I want to be held when I cry. I want someone to wipe away my tears. I want someone to kiss me as I am breaking down. I want to know that I am safe with myself because when I am dangerously out of control I have a rock to hold me up, to do what’s best for me even if I hate it or could hate them because of it. I need that strength and that love. I don’t just need it, I want it. 

I also want to love someone back; I want to show my respect and my devotion. I want to kiss someone passionately. I want stupid promises like never going to bed mad. I want someone to make love to me and I want to make love back. 

Maybe I am placing a fair bit of my identity into the hands of someone else, but is it really so bad? Can we be over-loved? Most of all, can we over experience the sanctity we find in the arms and hearts of the one who was created for us? 

I never wanted to be loved (and I often still don’t) but lately it seems like love may be the answer I am looking for it may be the one thing that holds me up when I stumble. It may be the death of a part of me I no longer need and the revival of a large part of me that has been lost for so many years.

Who knows the answers to any of these questions aside from my soul?

Maybe, I have the answers and it’s the questions I have wrong! 

I recommend anyone read this short story called The Yellow Wallpaper. It delves into psychosis and the way it was once dealt with. Although things really haven’t changed all that much, I often feel like the narrator of this story. The contempt she has for that yellow wallpaper grows on her, it eats at her and just like my past, it eventually destroys her.

Finding Freedom

I’ve been having a rough go the last couple of days and I think it is starting to worry people who I never expected could or would worry. Melancholy and depression seem to be the moods of choice the last few days maybe because my period is due and I am just generally bitchy or maybe it’s the pain that floods over my body in stabbing waves as I contract bruised muscles in order to move. You really don’t understand how much back pain affects your entire life until you are stuck in bed with toes that hurt to wiggle because of the swelling and bruising. I am mentally and physically exhausted because of the pain in my body. I try to move while I sleep and am jolted awake by angered nerves. The entire situation is making me feel dependant and therefore frustrated because I don’t feel like me. I don’t have the physical freedom I am used to having. 

Topping all of that off brain is also reacting adversely to the upcoming anniversary of my escape as well as to my birthday in less than a month. I hate birthdays and Christmas and any gift giving celebrations. They feel wrong to me, especially as an adult; although I don’t recall ever enjoying a birthday and I am sure if you asked my parents they would most definitely agree. 

The anniversary is giving me bad dreams. Some that are flashbacks and some that are just manifestations of my mind and the anxiety it is trying to cope with and categorize while I sleep. 

I have questioned my sanity several hundred times over the last week. I am assured I am fine that it is paranormal stuff that a doctor can’t deal with. I’m beginning to have my doubts, which makes me feel guilty because I also don’t feel as though I am being lied to. What is going on with me seems to be a product of the timing. I have sickened myself with these dreadful thoughts and memories and because of that I have not only made my immune system less able to keep me healthy but I have opened a door to any and all negative energy that wants at me and I am being attacked. 

I understand this. Yet I am still frustrated and am having this “why me” attitude. I need to smarten up and snap out of this soon. Scaring myself and making me question my sanity are actually good things in the aspect that insanity is not recognized by the person who is suffering from an illness. This is supposed to be reassuring but it doesn’t seem to quash those feelings of being utterly irrational. Then again, if you had bruises popping up on your body at random intervals and were depressed, losing time, acting weird during that lost time and then coming back to earth with no memory of any of it, wouldn’t you be a little freaked out too?

Those hands that I have mentioned so many times since I started this blog are now encouraging me to seek the help of a professional paranormal expert, but in all honesty I find this shameful and just want to keep it between whoever reads this, he and myself. I trust him and that makes me feel almost guilty because I don’t want to reach out and ask anyone else for help. I want to wait. He is the first person in my life who would know me and my moods better than I do and I find solace in that fact. He makes me feel grounded and when I am not grounded he knows exactly what to say to drop me back onto the ground where I should be, instead of up in the clouds with worry and pain. It is nice to know someone who understands what I am telling him and doesn’t judge (or seem to judge) anything I am feeling or saying. I am probably becoming frustrating for him though because if I am annoying myself it must take a saint to be tolerating these irrational antics without an adverse response. 

So, I am still lost. I am still wondering who I am. I am exhausted and I am hoping that things will revert back to normal, whatever normal is. I am lonely yet surrounded by love, pure source energy, white light and prayers. I think I am just a victim of being emotionally overwhelmed and triggered and that it will all end in the near future. In the meantime, I likely won’t be as rational as I normally am. I don’t have the energy. I am tired. I am in pain and generally I am weak. I need to rest, both mentally and physically, so I can gain strength and not allow whatever is eating at me to win. I have never lost a battle before and with the help of my support team, I have no fear that I will lose now.