Real talk. Non Fiction.

On a serious note.

I typically try to find humor in even my worst experiences because somehow that makes it easier to digest. But, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t a lasting affect or a serious situation just because I made light of it. Matter of fact, I never discuss this or talk about it openly. I do talk, but that’s only when asked or I feel the need to say something in order to help someone else. I don’t like classifying myself as a “survivor” or any other title. I’m not special by any means that made me “Survive”. In a sense, I don’t think I did survive. But let me get to the root of this.

I’m the… (I really hate saying this) survivor of mental and emotional abuse or more commonly known as NPD. I didn’t know I was suffering from abuse when I was subjected to it. I only knew I thought I was in hell, dying or going crazy. It took 15 years of solid therapy, twice a week. I still have my struggles, but ultimately I have overcome a great deal of it. My husband of roughly 4 years, has been the biggest thing in my life to finally heal that wound. He gave me the stability, strength and courage I needed. By doing that, he allowed me to have a safe place to live, free of fear.

The part I never expected was where I began to re-emerge into the girl I had once been. I did not know that I had tucked her away to protect her from the most heinous stuff, but I had. Therapy could never have done what he did. His love for me, alone, was the driving force to healing. However, because of that it allows me a bit more ability to talk about it. I don’t ever want it (abuse) to be the only thing that defines me.

For some, their tragedies become how they help others, and its an amazing thing, because those people are saints in every way. I certainly wouldn’t want to take away or deminish their journeys, but for me, I choose to just be me.

No ropes, chains or signs. No titles or signifying marks, just me. I want to be the person outwardly that I should have always been, without abuse scrawled across me like graffiti. It’s always difficult to remember, especially when I discuss it detail even though I have overcome it. Some things you just don’t forget and it’s hard to not cry about it. It doesn’t hurt the way it did. Instead of pain or fear, it makes me feel such sadness for the time I lost. It makes me have a great sadness for that young girl I was and the one who suffered for most of my adult life. It saddens me, and I cry for my daughters who had a very broken mommy as they grew up. It saddens me because I can not change it no matter how hard I try.

What I can do, is move forward without looking backwards. I can be this person I am destined to be and a whole mom to my adult daughters. And although it’s not the same as when they were young, this is what we get now. We can make it through just about anything because we made it through hell and back. That part, I know is true.

I was fortunate to not have been the victim of domestic violence. I was not hit, beaten or physically tortured and I won’t say I think that’s better because I honestly don’t know that suffering, but there were times I wished my abuser had hit me instead of the psychological warfare I was hit with every minute of the day for 10 plus years. It’s hard to fathom when it’s happening to you what’s going on, because it’s so foreign.

I didn’t grow up in an abusive home, I didn’t know anyone who had been abused this way, which made it difficult to recognize. It’s not like anyone knew what it was until it was way too late and by then I was out of the relationship. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

I still have PTSD. I don’t think it ever goes away fully. I have chronic anxiety and I take medication that has helped with that for some years now. Had I not found this particular medication, I don’t think I would be capable of functioning. The anxiety had gotten so bad I could barely leave my home for a few years. I missed school functions, movies, birthdays and outtings with friends because the anxiety had crippled me completely.

Trust me when I say, I hated myself for the invalid I had become. I had often viewed other people like I had become as weak, pathetic and lazy. I knew that wasn’t the truth and I couldn’t make the anxiety stop if I had wanted to because God knows I tried. I had horrible panic attacks that made me think I was suffocating to bouts of fatigue so bad I could barely get up to dress myself.

In the worst part of my abuse, I developed an eating disorder so badly that I have permanent liver damage, including damage to my digestive track, colon and bowels. Anorexia was a severe, and near dead problem for me that lasted a course of 15 to 18 years. To this day, ( I’m a healthy weight now), I still struggle with forms of body dismorphia. I am however, the most happy and comfortable I’ve ever been in my entire life. Peace is nice, when you’ve never had it. Happiness and joy is too.

I remember vividly, a few years ago before I married my current husband, praying to God that I before I died I just wanted to know what it happiness felt like. I didn’t know and the thought of not knowing what actual joy felt like inside me, made me devastated to no end.

Thankfully, I have been given that gift again, and, I can remember that feeling from when I was a very young girl. It’s truly something. It’s life changing when you are filled with joy and happiness that isn’t manufactured but real. There are few words for it and none that describe it best, because a feeling isn’t always tangible, but this feeling is the one that healed. This feeling inside me now is the one that truly set me apart from who I was, and I am.

Emotional abuse is more than just abuse of the mind, it’s an attack on your spirt, your soul and everything you’re made of. It tears you apart, layer by layer until it devours you whole. It changes you in a way that you won’t even recognize your own self when you take a good long look at that face staring back at you in the mirror. It’s the worst punishment, a human being can inflict on another that doesn’t cause death or blood to flow. And it’s 190 % real. It’s not lip service and when someone complains about things in a relationship with any person, friend, spouse, parent, listen. They may actually need you to see, what they themselves can not.

I have known women who have suffered as I have and were by far less fortunate. If they didn’t wreck their lives in an irreversible way, they ended it. It’s warfare of the worst kind.

I decided to share this much because I think it’s important to atleast say out loud, these things happened, they are very real and they can be life altering.

People who have NPD, narcissistic personality disorder and BPD, borderline personality disorder are abusers through mental illness. They need professional help. If you know someone who may fall into those categories, look them up, especially covert and overt narcissism, seek help for them. Check on the people closest to them. Most likely they will be in denial, but don’t give up. I would have been grateful to have been pulled from that sooner than later.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Black Widow Oblivion

This is another fictional story from The black widow series. Enjoy. All characters are just figments of my imagination. Any or all resemblance to an individual is merely coincidence.

She (the black widow) sat hours in her easy chair, oblivious to the world around her, including her children. She furiously stretched her mind into the massive organ it is by spending countless hours crushing candy as if it were her only reason to live. She spent every waking moment doing as little as possible just so she could crush those striped candies into a big win.

Without a care in the world the widow crushed candy all the while ignoring her husband as if he never existed, whilst her children were raiding the pantry for every sugary, carb loaded treat they could find. Laundry was piled into mountainous heaps in the garage as if the washer itself had violently vomited them across the floor. Which isn’t surprising since the clothes often smelled so putrid and so sour it would make you gag if you smelled them, thinking they were clean.

The widow was typically in a real maddening hurry and had no choice, but to run over the laundry with her car. She never had a problem rolling over those stacks of dirty jeans, t- shirts, towels and underwear like speed bumps in the car line at school. She couldn’t be bothered with that stufg, she was just too tired. She wasn’t even going to be able to cook because she was so tired. Besides, she really needed to get to her easy chair and crush candy.

She spent so much time engrossed in candy bombs that she never saw the beautiful bombs chasing around her very ignored husband by her back. They snickered and laughed, asking him why he was even with her. They loved coming to her parties where she tired to sell some kind of plastic bowl or scented waxy shit because the widow loved to drink. And, when she did… They would go on the hunt for that sexy husband of hers that she didn’t even know she had. She would sit on her sofa, pounding beer from a bottle, laughing about menial things no one really wanted to talk to her about. That gave the perfect little out for a friend to slip out to the garage.

The widows friend spotted the highly attractive husband in the garage. He had been hiding from the cats in the house when one, bad, little kitty escaped. She pawed and nipped hoping he would play. The kitty friend told him the widow never had to know, meowing like a cat in heat.

To be frank here, this sort of thing happened quite often. But, as fate would have it, the widow wouldn’t have noticed. She couldn’t have because, she was so very very busy. Busy making ass imprints on the sofa with her dildo, that is….

It was obvious she didn’t want her husband like the babysitter did. And, she couldn’t possibly want him like those women at church who loved their fitness training. They frequently invited him over for some cross training, if ya know what I mean…

The widow sure loved the energizer bunny, while her closest, and dearest friend was still fantasizing about the time she had her way wity the widows husband. Of course, the dear friend never told the Widow, but then again, she never told the widow she had once warned her husband before their marriage not to marry her because she was a user.

Which of course, all of that said was true. The woman couldn’t do a thing on her own, she needed him to do everything for her or slave her children out. She couldn’t clean the house and she couldn’t cook, and she certainly couldn’t do laundry anymore than she could clean her ass. She was busy you know and that was a chronic problem, but then again so was her month long periods too.

Behind her back people whispered. She thought she had snowed them all including the congregation at her church, but her husband had been two steps ahead the whole time. He never let an opportunity go without sharing to the Pastor and other deacons about her “personal issues”.. Like the one where she puts her ass print on the sofa…

Unbeknownst to her, he forwarded her emails she sent him, photos of food rot crusted in the fridge, laundry stacked in the garage and filth everywhere she never cleaned. He recorded her cussing like a sailor and let the pastor hear what she really sounded like when no one was listening. He even sent the church, the most damning email of all, where she admitted to all her egregious acts.

One day, her husband decided that he had never loved her and put her to the curb. He had only felt sorry for her little snot nose toddler she had when he met her and against his better judgment stayed for the rug rat. But, that rug rat had grown up and it was time. He hadn’t found her attractive for years and years. He couldn’t stand her voice anymore than he could stand her, so… he left.

She thought she had won. She gloated around town like she had just taken him to the cleaners, except he didn’t want anything she got. Andvthe best part was he had the last laugh. He had bested her in her own playground.

Every week she went to church after he left, and told the poor abandoned wife tale, they placated her and then snickered all over again. They laughed and made fun of her knowing she was the liar and fake that she was. They knew, because her husband made sure to let everyone know the truth, just before he divorced her. In fact, she may never have known what all those sideways glances were actually for and probably wouldn’t have wanted know either.

She had been made a fool in her own backyard. If it couldn’t get any worse for her, it did when her son began telling the world about her drunken escapades with men from dating apps. She thought no one knew, but everyone knew. Her place of employment knew, her church, her neighbors and even her so called friends.

The black widow had been stripped of her power and dethroned. Her crown was stripped and she had to sell the big house, trade in the mom mobile and take the demotion in front of the entire world and God.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Hermetic Goddess

As above, so below.

This dictum in astrology is the central pillar of Hermetic thought. Essentially, it says the map of the heavens is a map of the earth, and those who can read the heavens will understand the workings of all things on earth.

In a very simple understanding, if I can read the stars as if they were words in a journal, I would have profound knowledge written by God. It has been said in ancient text by the Myan people, fallen angels gave them the foresight to see the stars in such a way and how to decipher them. Hence, the Mayan calendar and further predictions were born. Clearly coming from their ability to read the stars.

This has made me think keenly about what it all means as my mind races to put thousands of puzzle pieces together in one quick instance. What if the map is more than just foresight of what’s to come but, quite literally, a map. What if this map has the ability to show not the “Heavens” but Heaven, itself. And, if that is possible then it also would be able to tell us more than just Heavens layout. It would tell us where God is.

Before I go further, I am aware or in the belief that God is everywhere and in everything. He is the Great matter of all things. The source of which everything began, but let’s suppose that even with that understanding we can reverse the engineering and take apart each layer of this equation. If we do that, then what we would possibly see is the proverbial “man behind the emerald curtain”. Remind you of anything? The Emerald city?

When L. Frank Baum wrote the novella, Wizard of Oz do you suppose he based anything from his writing from the Emerald Tablet?

Baum wrote about an allegorical quest to enlightenment, hence the yellowbrick road of all things to symbolize the Buddhist belief in a “golden path to enlightenment”.

I highly encourage you to actually read the book. It’s quite different from the Hollywood version, by which only highlights the outer most workings of importance in his story.

Which only illuminates the idea that for centuries, those of us in tune enough to look, can see there is something far more important in the constellations than just twinkling lights playing backdrop to the moon in the darkness of night. It’s designed, rather by a breach or on purpose to tell us something. It’s not only a map, but a key. A very important key that unlocks a doorway that most people can’t grasp it’s understanding.

I think it’s important to note here, Alchemists were the first, in a sense, to break down the information and begin to put into action. This is not meant by looking for any such map or doorway, but to attempt this through the transformation of one thong into another through the process of energy.

Alchemists faced plenty controversy being that it appeared to deviate away from religious beliefs and institutions of the earliest times. One such idea in the Alchemists book was called the “Mind the maker”. This particular section was certainly not something you dare mutter allowed in those middle age, witch burning years without putting a person directly on the stake to die by the scorching heat of fire. “Mind the maker” would suggest that God does not directly participate in our world. Instead, God projected the Word of God into our existence as something to the likes of a template to follow or as described in another Alchemy text, a computer program that the Emerald Tablet calls the Pattern. These writings are not something you san over think but let float across your mind. In doing so, if your so capable, you’ll be able to comprehend what it’s saying. I would compare that style of comprehension as the same used to read in the course of miracles. Should you over think or try to analyze too long your mind short circuits and it becomes confusing and indecipherable. In my opinion, that would only given more proof that we have the ability to vibrate at different frequencies like an antenna. Matter of fact, the very principles inside the Emerald Tablet are recognized and used in the teachings of the popularly known movement/book/film known as The Secret.

However, back to where I left off, it would be a mistake to believe Alchemists were not believers of God. In fact, they sought to unveil the divine light in everything, so to perfect it. Which of course was the truest nature of the Great Work. It begins Below, with the duality of matter.

These particular findings were indeed important to the church, but done so with great caution and discretion for certain verbiage. I stated earlier that it was “those who could read the heavens”. In my opinion that would suggest people who are not only in tune, but sighted in some way. Obviously, in those days it meant to be gifted with foresight. To be precise, that meant plainly, the ability to for tell the future or have spiritual communication with spiritual beings. Rather that be the the dead or angels it nevertheless got you the title of being nothing more than a tool to the devil. Alchemists and their studies were slightly reclusive and anti social for lots of reasons, but, it equally did nothing to help their case in being “Godly” followers or believers in Christ. Alchemists were much like the Saint Joan of Arc in the way that the Church was curiously interested in the work and knowledge but never recognized it or forgave those who practiced, minus our lovely maiden, Saint Johanne of Arc. She was one the only humans given Saint status after her execution for what at that time they deemed witch craft.

There’s a theme here. It would suggest further more that those capable of reading, deciphering or understanding these “Heavens” are either burned, crucified, shunned, banned or imprisoned.

Which brings me to question, how do we read it. Especially, if we already have that inclination, then how do we educate or per se, raise our frequency, in such a way that we not only receive divine information, but the education of translation. Is it even truly possible? Although, I strongly believe it is. I believe a certain number of us have this gift and it is coveted or would be by those who are unworthy to understand it.

Which would be the exact reason it’s not easy to do or find without being the “one” who would have enough enlightenment to do so.

This particular knowledge could, and, would, be a dangerous weapon if used improperly. I imagine that would be classified as treasonous enough to piss off a heavenly host of Arch Angel warriors bent on protecting their domains.

Again, I do ponder who might be the reader of such things. The “hermetic” reader. The keeper of the greatest secrets and yet somehow I believe without a doubt is or will mostly definitely be a feminine of the greatest divine light. A Goddess, a witch, a mother, a creator of life and also the apple of God’s affection, a female.

I will further discuss this topic in more depth, next blog post.

Thank you for reading ♥️

The Southern Oracle

In Alchemy, First Matter is the source of all things. It’s the very essence of changing all things light and dark, manifested and unmanifested in grand pattern of transformation. Essentially, I’m the first matter in the Southern Oracle. The oracle itself, is not only a great story being told through these series of paintings, but also a phenomenal transformation into something visual and tangible. In this way, I’m not only the First Matter but the Alchemist. Welcome to my laboratory.

The Southern Oracle is not only an exceptionally personal body of work but on a whole the entire embodiment of myself without all the identifying details. These paintings are equally composed with components of creation, the four seasons, the four elements and Quintessence. Which, in my head takes a complex entity and simplifies it. To further explain this concept, let me start with the focal point of my story.

There are many names for us, and as I have discussed this topic before, many times, I never put it in conjunction with my work. Throughout the ages we have been labeled, Divine feminine to Goddess and one my favorites, Pythoness as well another charming one, Witch. But, what we really should be called is, Creators. We were given the womb, the gift to create life and do it is that a woman is divine in nature naturally but then there are those of us who are further gifted with sight, touch and power. We, are the true Alchemists in nature. Meaning, we can take many things of different components and use a form of transmutation to yield into something far greater than it began. We have one hand inside the below and one in the above.

Essentially, we are all witches. We have celebrated our abilities by healing, governing our power through silent manipulation and creation. We use our hands to manifest a sacred energy from crown to root and whisper words that only the animals hear. We are not only chosen, but we are rare. What we don’t do is wear black pointed hats, ride broom sticks or pray to the devil. That, of course is all myth and has been highly disputed as nothing more than masculine propaganda in order to dethrone what it sacred, divine and holy.

THE WHITE PHASE.

THAT WHICH IS BELOW CORRESPONDS TO THAT WHICH IS ABOVE, AND THAT WHICH IS ABOVE CORRESPONDS TO THAT WHICH IS BELOW, TO ACCOMPLISH THE MIRACLE OF ONE THING, THROUGH THE MEDIATION OF ONE MIND, SO DO ALL CREATED THINGS ORIGINATE FROM THIS ONE THING THROUGH, TRANSFORMATION.

We understand that our “power” our “magic” comes from understanding the overlapping of two worlds. One in the ether and the other here, earth. We walk between the two, pull divine energy, hear the messages for translation and celebrate our sisterhood. We are not only unique, but yet also have a great purpose. In this world, we are the very last threads in the very special, and required, balance.

Perhaps you’re wondering how a series of paintings could be based on such a big concept? That’s because, as I stated before, the complexity is also and equally, simple. Very few minds are capable of understanding such knowledge through imagery, most of which is lost to the common person as nothing more than a “Pretty painting”. However, there are those special enough, in tune enough enough, to see the very obvious symbols, symbolism and placement of the images in such a way they instantly read the otherwise obscure message, clearly. The real question is, can you?

Once, or twice in history, we were sought out, hunted and murdered for being advocate of the devil. We were believed to be under demon influence or practice dark magic in which God and the mighty band of Archangels were our enemies. That, couldn’t be further from the truth. Hence, the white phase. Call us what you like, I prefer my first name, however, we have always walked along side the Angels in the light. We seek our wisdom, strength and healing from God as well as we silently play shepherd to the sheep filled world.

These paintings are the most truest representation of not only myself, but my sisters. We hold sanctuary in each other and almost instantly find one another like magnets drawn together by force. I honor them, myself and all those before us. I do so because for once, I am exactly as I was meant to be and I am so much more than just an painter or any linear label.

I welcome you to find enlightenment through a higher vibration. I encourage you to seek the things only slightly hidden for those are the things we must all take a moment for.

To know the secrets of the universe, first you must go to Source, the First Matter, God and… BE STILL AND SILENT WITH ME AND YOU SHALL KNOW.

Thank you for reading ♥️

With balance, I’m only whole because I have the greatest strength in my entire existence. I have been forever reunited with my twin flame. There is no greater love. In that way, the Universe has righted itself.