Beach Birds and monsters

Sometimes, the greatest of ideas become the worst of ideas. Having found myself turned into a lobster, I quickly discovered the beach umbrella at the local grocery store. “This could work” I thought, snatching it up for myself like a gluttonous pig in a cupcake shop.

Eager to put that little treasure up, I went straight to the beach, snapped it together and screwed it into the sand. Viola.. Instant perfection.

But then again, nothing is ever perfect. Neither is weather. Obviously, ignoring the gusting wind blowing ferociously off the ocean I proceeded to plop out my things in a neat arrangement under the shade of my giant red umbrella.

I opened my book and began to read, while feeling extremely proud of this new found comfort I had successfully created for myself. Without warning, as these things usually happen, the giant umbrella snapped itself loose from the pole still screwed into the sand and began to flip and roll across the beach like a paper sack. It managed to flip itself right into the lap /stomach of a woman sunbathing with her elderly Mother and Aunt who happened to be visiting from Connecticut.

I’m of course chasing behind the giant red bohemeth of an umbrella, now lumbering in somersaults worthy of an Olympic medal. I, of course can’t catch the red tumbling megalodon anymore than they can stop it’s unwanted invasion upon their relaxation. Spirited and kind, these women managed to grab a hold of the beastly creature disguised as an umbrella, although I think it might have been something they sell to make fun of tourists with.

The elderly mother quickly says, “I’m fully Vaccinated” and I reply “Yes, so am I” and think, this is what our world has weirdly become. Nevertheless the oddity of the conversation didn’t stop her from helping me wrangle that bucking bronco back to my, now disheveled things. Pissed at this monster I had created but couldn’t hide, I beat it into a ball and shoved its unruly red canvas into its easy to carry case and pitched it to the side.

I certainly couldn’t allow such a hideous contraption to ruin my perfect afternoon, so I proceeded to play it off by straightening my things and picking up my crumpled book.

Peacefulness isn’t always something I have experienced and it wasn’t then either, because the man who runs the umbrella /chair rental business for the hotel made no qualms in walking past me to say, “Those umbrellas aren’t meant for this wind, someone’s gonna get hurt” as if his umbrellas were somehow better or his intelligence keener than mine as the tragedy had already happened and he hadn’t bothered saying anything until it had already occurred. So, I’m thinking, “OK buddy, suck some sand” when low and behold the wind Goddess reached out and plucked one of his golden umbs from the sand and launched it in a tailspin.

“karma is I bitch I hear” I mutter under my breath, but I could have screamed it, he couldn’t hear me chasing his massive blue umbrella, now spinning like a vaulted spear, towards the pool.

Returning to my book, ignoring the spectacle behind me, I settle into a few good pages before I hear racket to my left. A large builded, old man of retired age has begun setting up his lawn chairs, practically next to me. His buddy, (Gerald) and two unnamed grandma ladies, show up talking as loud as lawn mowers running diesel. They begin to argue about what the concrete structure to the side of us is, although only a hotel with bad 1970s architecture, they yell about what it must be, never even considering that it might be a hotel.

Try as I might, I attempted to continue reading, but the noisy elders decided yell talking wasn’t sufficient enough in decibels and turn on music from a phone or small device one of them has carried with them. That only creates one more thing to cause them to yell at each other whilst sitting in their matching fold up chairs, all in a a row like roosting birds on a lone wire.

Gerald, loudly announced over his wife’s now humming, that the other man and his wife will be responsible for buying dinner and they did care what they ate, after which the other old man yells “What!? I can’t hear you”

His wife yells the repeated words of Gerald before he says “Okay, I ain’t got nothing to do so it’s no problem”

At this point, I have decided between old yelling grandparents, attacking umbrellas and a vicious sun that is hell bent on cooking me alive, my best bet is to seek refuge on my balcony.

I didn’t mention that I purchased some cute sodas in glass bottles did I, with no bottle opener, well I did. And, determined to open one left me with two split open, bleeding fingers and no bandages. So, I’d say that today was extremely adventurous and full of whimsical Follies designed to make me laugh, except, I’m not laughing.

I’m not crying either, but I did give the chair/business guy the stink eye and smiled nicely to the old birds who seemed perplexed at my departure.

Tomorrow is a new day and a new adventure, but one that will not begin with a monstrous umbrella named Goliath asshole.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Floridan Follies, Hobos and Retirees

When I use the word Hobo here, it’s by far a completely different definition than the Obispo Hobo. Florida Hobos aren’t actually homeless although they might appear as such. These particular hobos have traded in their luxurious shopping carts and hiking backpacks for a bike or even a walking stick. The Florida hobo almost never wears clothes, if any, trading outerwear for darkened brown, leathery skin just as worthy as a cowhide is to a pair of fine shoes.

The strong scent of coconut oil and suntan lotion replaces the usual noxious stench of body odor coming from the typical Hobo. These hobos play in the day as if there is no tomorrow to only retire to a fancy hotel, condominium or retirement retreat in the evenings for a little needed R&R.

Women of all body types, but mostly ones that would make any self conscious girl feel better, slather on sunscreen smack dab in the middle of the beach as if no one is watching, carefully applying the creamy concoction to every single part of their bodies by merely shifting their suit to one side or the other. In my opinion, it might have been easier done and perhaps with more privacy in the confines of their hotel rooms. However, this is not the way in which it is done here, and for reasons I haven’t figured out being that I’m the only person fully clothed.

The aging Florida Hobo seems to have lost all sense of awareness when it comes to modisty. The men ride their senior bicycles in nothing but wind shorts just shy of being daisy dukes. The sheer ability to keep their jewelry tucked up is a complete mystery, but one I’m unwilling to investigate further. The granny’s have slightly more self awareness than the retiree male by wearing a few more articles of clothing, but only because it’s prohibited for women to go around topless. They have traded lofty cardigans and floral dresses for short mumus and skirted swimsuits. They sport those suits like Sundays best while walking small, manicured dogs down the lush sidewalks covered in flowering hibiscus bushes.

Lizards run about as if they own the places and some as large as small cars. If anyone could think a rat could make me scream, they haven’t witnessed my encounters with iguanas. They are horrific events that nevertheless leave other people around me stumped by my inability to stop screaming like a complete and utter psycho. Especially, if that particular, horrifying Iguana, does nothing but be the lizard it is by merely staring at the screaming freak in his solid, unmoving stance.

There are other predators here than just an Iguana. Large pterodactyls that everyone here calls a pelican, swoop and dip over my head as if I might be their next snack while beach hobos appear unaware of their pesky existence. Fortunately for me, I have an umbrella which completely tricks this bizarre Dino bird into thinking I’m furniture, furthermore eliminating me as prey. Thankfully, I’ve been spared.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been spared from viewing the young girl in her late twentieth who decided to pretend she were a bond girl by bending over abruptly in the midst of a crashing wave to dip her brassy yellow hair into the ocean and then flip her head back in a rendition of an old Bo Derek move from 5.0. She took that move as a que to look for anyone watching. Pleased with herself, the young woman decided to turn from the salty heaven and run, bouncing her body around as if she had just become Pamela Anderson in Baywatch, giving all of unlucky spectators a few laps to gather it all in.

The other strange folly comes from the strongest urge to take a nap or pass out right where I’m sitting as if I had been slipped a roofy in my morning coffee although I would have been the only person to do that and, I certainly did not.

For now, I shall return to reading my book and keeping a watchful eye on the Pterodactyls I know want to devour me whole all the while burning my skin as if I were toast.

Thank you for reading ❤️

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 ❤️

Throne room of a Queen

Careful how you play your cards with a Queen in your hand.

The Queen approached the throne and took her rightful seat. She looked upon the creature before her as if just the sight of it had put something sour in her mouth. The creature knealt before her, glaring at the Queen with a stone like face and pinched eyes.

The Queen waved a hand at the creature, “I shall warn you once, if I lose my temper, off with your head”

The creature growled at her feet, pawing at the ground while white foam began to form at the corner of its mouth.

The Queen chuckled, she was rather amused by this display of rabidry. She spoke to her guardsmen without ever turning to look at him, “Gaurd, what exactly is this little delightful thing?”

The guardsmen leaned to her ear keeping a watchful eyes upon the growling creature, shrugging “Your Majesty, I do not know. I was summoned earlier as it followed the King in earlier this morning. He was mumbling something about the roses.”

The Queens eyes perked up, “The Roses?” she asked in mirth. “What on earth happened to his delightful roses?” she quizzed. When no one offered a reply, she looked back upon the creature at her feet, eyeing it sternly “And what of this do you know little beast ?”

The creature only growled between its teeth, shaking its head like a dog with itchy ears. The Queen tossed her hands up, “Well, now that was quite pointless, wasn’t it?” she said exaggerated.

The Queen snapped her fingers bringing her equerry running, “Your. Majesty, how may I be of service!?”

She leaned an elbow on her throne, eyeing the creature as she so delicately touched her chin, ” What do you suppose we do with it? Should we let it roam on the lawn?”

The equerry shrieked “OH heavens no! With all due respect, your Majesty, but we can not allow such a thing to be seen by everyone visiting the kingdom. Why, this would be most embarrassing, don’t you think?”

The Queen smiled ruefully, “I have always admired your charm, I do believe you’re correct, I shall think of a place but I am most curious of what happened to those roses.”

The head gardener stepped out from behind the crowd that gathered behind the creature, “Your Majesty, if I may approach?”

The Queen looked even more amused by this turn of events, “Yes of course, please do.” she said summoning the Gardner with a subtle wave.

The Gardner formally bowed, “Your Majesty, this… Um.. Well this thing here, it was caught painting the Kings white roses, red.” he told her fidgeting nervously.

The Queen’s raised an eyebow, “Is that so?” she said now putting her attention to the creature. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

“The creature glared before it spat out,” I DIDN’T DO IT” in a hiss.

The Gardner gasped, clutching his chest, clearly taken by the debauchery, “Your Majesty, do not be lead astray, I caught that little thing red handed”

The Queen laughed, “Red handed eh? Is that in the literal sense or in a manner of speaking?” The Gardner thought a minute, “Oh, well… Yes actually. Both.”

“Ah” she said “So you caught this creature taking the beauty of those white roses by painting them with fake color, paint you say?”

The Gardner bowed graciously, “I did your Majesty, as well as my wife. She saw it too.”

A small woman wearing gardening attire stepped out from the crowd just behind her husband, she curtsied quickly, “Your Majesty, I’m the Gardners wife. And I too saw it do this.”

The Queen looked them over and then smiled sweetly, “Thank you both. You may step down Gardner.” she said putting up a finger “And, upon my gratitude for catching this vermin, you may have the rest of the day off. I pray you shall take your wife for a lovely holiday this afternoon? “

The Gardner looked stuck, “Oh. Why yes your Majesty. Yes I will. Thank you.” he bowed as he quietly backed down the steps so not to turn his back upon the Queen. Everyone knew such things often cost a person their head.

The Queen looked at the creature, “So you speak lies little creature, after you defaced my husbands roses! How do you awnser this?”

The creature glared with all the hatred at the Queen as if it might not awnser when finally, “I told you, I didn’t do it, and YOU can’t prove it.!” it hissed, taking a hand out slashing the air as if it’s claws could touch her.

“Well, now. You have quite the position little thing beneath me, but I might remind you that I do sit above you and for that matter you shall remain as you as. I shall give you one more chance to confess your crime and ask of my forgiveness.” said the Queen calmly.”

With that, the creature lunged towards the Queen in a growl, as if it wanted to rear her throat out. The Queen watched without ever moving in fear as the creature was no match for the Gaurdsmen. The Gaurd held the creature out in front of the Queen like a puppy.

Gasps, sighs of exasperation and sea of shocked faces watched as the Queen stood unblinking before the dangling creature, “Kill it” she said.

The creature looked on in horror never thinking the Queen would do such a thing. Just in that moment the King joined his Queen at her side. The creature looked even more terrified than before.

The King looked over the creature, evaluating it as it hung there by the Gaurdsmen hand, “Your Royal Highness, my darling wife, it dies look rather pathetic and I have purchased new roses to fill the void, perhaps we banish this one out the garden gate.”

The Queen looked to her husband adoringly, “Yes. That’s a lovely idea.” she told him.” turning her attention to the Gaurd ” Banish it. ” she ordered. The Gaurdsmen turned heel, taking the creature with him.

The Queen and King took their seats next to one another as they symbolically clasp hands in display of unity. The Queen waved a child up as she listened to her offer her business idea for selling roses with inquiries for the Queen and Kings help. Both the Queen and King, loved hard working people who wanted to earn their way, and decided with ease that they would give the young girl all the money she desired to start her business. Everyone cheered for the girl and as this day went further, every person who showed kindness, love, respect and acceptance got exactly what they were seeking.

But, the one thing they all knew about their loving Queen, she can tolerate ąlot of things, but if you take a run at her, “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD! “

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 ❤️

Black Widow Poison Eater

The slight itch grew, although mild for a second, became a frenzied clawing motion just shy of mind numbing. She never thought the itch could get worse, but it had. The itch moved into her skin as if it were apart of it, biting and nawing itself raw. Delusional with it’s interference, she could barely think straight, let alone do anything. Her mind was always focused on the unyielding burn in her flesh. It never ceased to stop because it was always there. Occasionally, she would get occupied enough to forget it’s annoyance, but just when she did it emerged back with a vengeance. It stirred her thoughts and chased her everywhere she went.

Of course, the itch was only an itch that is, until she allowed it to fester into a disease. It took over her ever waking thoughts like a plague and haunted her dreams. It pulled at her brain every time she dressed herself or looked in the mirror. She let it naw at her to the point she couldn’t even do the simplist of tasks without it ravaging her thoughts like poison.

What she would never understand is that the disease was derived from nothing short of poison. Easily fed she lapped it up like a gluttonous pig, eating it by the spoonfuls.

She couldn’t help herself, because with every bite she took the more addicted to it she became. She craved it like a drug, wanting it over anything else in the world. She tried to tell herself she didn’t like it and that it was awful and vile, but the truth was she couldn’t get enough.

She ate and ate until it bloated her head and ate at her blackened soul. She let it devour her without ever knowing it had been feeding on her, hollowimg her out like a pumpkin.

She couldn’t hide it and when other people saw her infection, turning away, she found a million low hanging excuses to justify why “she” wasn’t at fault. It was always someone else’s problem and never hers because she thought she was perfect in every way. She had only had bad things happen to her not the other way around where she was the one being abusive and cruel to those around her. She never even saw how her little chickens were carbon copies of herself, incapable of love because they had never been taught how to love.

But, that of course wasn’t her fault. It was someone else’s fault. It wasn’t, her fault, she had only but a couple of friends, never keeping any for long periods of time. It was their fault. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t get or keep a boyfriend, there wete things wrong with them, not her.

She didn’t even understand why the surroundings of her choosing were sub par. If you guessed it was somone else’s fault, you would be correct. You see, narcissistic people ways find the right poison the fastest. The gravitate to it out of their own need to be important. They need attention and a stroked ego. They want to find every fault in someone else so to justify why they are somehow better and when that isn’t enough they will attempt to attack someone they have no business attacking.

In fact, they think the poison is made just for them and it is. They just don’t understand the true nature of it. It’s like feeding candy to a baby. Every good witch can spot it early on and begin working her magic. It’s quite easy and takes little or no effort. To be precise, it’s like weaving a blanket. You begin with the first stitch, looping each thread into another, building it one square at a time until after a while you have sown a beautiful quilt ready for the taking.

Poison is the easiest to give and in a sense it’s her own greediness that gets her the most. Ultimately, she will hang herself right in front of everyone, showing the world the ugliness she truly is. But, by then the damage is done, irreversible actually.

If you come close, I’ll whisper to you what the poison is, but… Shhh you mustn’t tell. It’s a secret you know.

Are you listening… Words. The poison is words. That’s it.

All you have to do is feed a person a bundle of words they can search for and when they gobble them like a starving dog you won’t have to do another thing. The words do it all for you.

Character is defined by who you are when no one is looking. When your heart is pure, words have no affect. Those magical words, can’t hurt you, mostly because you already know who you are. And so does everyone else. You’re loved by many and people that barely know you love you immediately. That’s when you know your immune to the poison.

If your heart is blackened and you look to take without ever giving an ounce, expect what isn’t deserved and couldn’t show love or empathy without killing yourself first, then get ready to be eaten alive.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Snowwhite & the ocean oh toahs

Elephant Seal, aka oh toah. Along hwy 1, California

The world is filled with surprising moments that even for myself, I am easily dumbfounded. I’ve always had this uncanny ability with animals and when I was young my Father often referred to me as Snowwhite. That ability hasn’t changed now that I’m plenty grown up. In most cases they just appear to me, out of the blue. Sometimes, they show up as if I called them upon doing my thing in their environment. I’m not doing anything in particular, just being. Weirdly, they will almost appear tame and have even attempted to come up to me.

Typically, I refrain from those interactions as much as I want to touch, I know it’s harmful for a wild animal to have human friends, but nevertheless I’m often touched by this encounter. There’s something humbling about being in the presence of something wild and beautiful. But, even more so when it chooses you for whatever reason to find safe. There curiosity about me is mutual as I’m curious about them too. The eyes truly speak volumes.

My husband, unbeknownst to myself has almost the same gift and when we married in 2017 it became this overwhelming experience where no matter where we went or what we did we always had animal visitors showing up. I can’t say I know why or what they are thinking, but both my husband and I are in awe most of the time.

Upon traveling for my husband job which is what lead us to California, we found a lone stretch of the coast line. The elephant seals are known for the area but typically reside in certain area. However, we took to the beach. It wasn’t a perfect day as far as sun goes. It was rainy looking, cool and windy. It made it perfect as far as not seeing any other people exploring the area we had found. In fact this area was one dedicated to a certain bird. So, to say we expected finding one of these little oh toahs would be a farse.

We walked a good distance down to the beach from the road, which was deserted. Immediately, I spotted shells to collect and began gathering some for my pocket. I took a few photos before we decided to venture further down away from the rocks and then when we spotted this little guy. We almost didn’t see him there. Seals blend in pretty good with nature except for those big round eyes looking back, that’s when you know it’s not a rock.

This area wasn’t far from where they live but also not a normal place for them. There weren’t any other seals near by and being that this one was clearly a young one, it did appear strange. Although, neither of us know much about seals. We were so exceptionally close and not because we invaded his space but because we didn’t really see him until we were on top of him.

It looked at us probably in the same way we were looking at it, with curiosity. We watched each other and although I was concerned it might be frightened, it didn’t appear that way. It seemed at ease and comfortable and that gave me the opportunity to take a photo and say sweet words to it. As usual, they always appear to enjoy my speaking to them, and so did the little seal.

We moved away from him to give him space and the lityle guy made an effort to watch us as it made its way to the water and jetted off to some magical place seals frolic. However, just the warmth in its eyes is enough to be incredibly grateful to see him so closely without disturbing his safety or ours.

I’m super grateful to have so many amazing experiences and even more so with the greatest love of my life. It’s a beautiful thing to get to share these moments with another person. It’s a beautiful world and every moment is precious. I’m happy to be able to have had so many where I can just be in the moment and enjoy some little aspect that is as enchanting as it is divine.

I love those seals. They touched my heart like most animals do, but they really captivated me. And, they are such a fun backdrop to an already beautiful place, but somehow they made it even more special. Magical in a sense. I am beyond elation that I’ve had this experience and I look forward to even more strange animal encounters in the future.

Thank you for reading ❤️

The Artful practices of a Witch

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.

Witchery is most often misunderstood and typically by those with the inability to think bigger than their linear worlds allow. If a person, such as myself decides to understand the world in its complexity, and, all for the sake of enlightenment, then I must see the things that are undeniably in front of me.

The spiritual aspect is the greatest one, and if anything, it’s the single most important one altogether. Communication to Source/G-d, goes way beyond the act of prayer by simply bowing a head and talking to what most people think of as an empty space. I’ve heard countless times different people explain that they hope God heard their prayer as if be wouldn’t for some reason or walk away from prayer as if it was a request tossed into a box fof review. In other words, talking into a phone without ever waiting for someone to awnser.

Witchery is far beyond the “casting” of “Spells”. A person must actually have an intuition first and that’s a whole different conversation, but it essentially begins with a very intimate, two – sided conversation between source/G-d and the “witch”.

These conversations and the sheer ability to do it, set you apart from the rest. And, witchery, and not necessarily Wiccan as that’s a completely different form, is derived from those gifted enough to tune into our higher being. We use that as a medium or backdrop into which we create energy for healing, growth and really, a million other categories.

Christianity, and when I say that I loop that as most people following or categorizing themselves under that title, not the actual meaning of of being Christian, with that said, in my opinion, Christianity is like the warning label on a hairdryer. It stands as those ridiculous instructions written for simple minded people prone to stupidity and require a certain set of rules to follow. They are the same people who never take the time to ask the question, “what if there was more?”

“What if, (I) can actually use the G-d energy to work through me like the early Alchemists did, and or mistakenly labeled as magic?” “What benefits could I have from healing others, growing herbs and (i. e. poisonous plants) for the sake of healing tinctures and other compounded apothecaries?” Or even “Can I change the structure of a persons emotional state, spirit or outlook just by fixing a special tea or prepared nourishment ?”

The awnser to that is, yes. So, by using the G-d energy through direct communication and conjuring if the mind (power of thought) we can manifest powerful things. These conjurings, in most cases have been life changing for many people. Some even without their own knowledge and that goes to say there are some out there working magic unbeknownst to themselves and unknown to those they encounter. In modern terms we become doctors, herbalists, artists, green witches and even house witches. There are by far plenty more titles in specific genres or areas in which we work but for now I’ll just labeled the easiest to understand.

I think it’s also important to understand the meaning of, that which is above is like that which is below. I think it should be studied and pondered, not as scripture but as divine insight into something greater than it was even originally written about. Insights, communication and enlightenment often comes when we least expect it and it is with the trained eye and ear that we recognize it when it comes to us.

So, if you have done this and study this you will find that Heaven and Earth mirror each other, over lapping. Again, this particular subject is another separate conversation, but essentially the mind is the conduit that powers everything, the engine. That includes energy around us, and, those of us skilled enough that they can manipulate that very exact and precise energy into what we need it to do.

I’ve written a few times before about the ideas inside the popular book titled the “Secret.” However, that book was based from the anonymously written book “A Course in Miracles”, as a kind of… compendium to the written stories in the Bible. Let me clarify that it’s not as a second book of the Bible or even considered as one but more like the instructions to the Bible that are missing.

I have used these practices for quite some years in exactly as I spoke, art but more so in the teas and soups to achieve healing in different forms with 100% success. All of which is documented in my grimoire, in great detail. These writings are private and only used or shared through me to another witch. I do not publish them in any way. Why? Because they are my spells, specific to me. Most are instinctual and created from that very spiritual center inside my being.

It’s important for every practicing witch to do these things on her own, in conjunction to deep meditation, G-d energy and communications. It’s a deeply spiritual experience and truthfully, most people aren’t capable of doing the work it takes to get to this place. You, She, the practing witch, must shed her skin in a sense, to rid herself of earthly baggage. This, is a huge undertaking, and only when this has been done can you move into a spiritual, light worker or witchery workings.

It came naturally to myself and my work only took intent focus. Others, it takes longer but if the call is there, you will be successful.

Thank you for reading ❤️

The ugly truth about a woman with a bearded butt.

WARNING. THIS POST IS A CATTY, LOW VIBRATION KINDA POST WITH MASSIVE INSULTS TO A CERTAIN UNNAMED PERSON. IT CONTAINS VULGAR WORDS AND DESCRIPTIONS. IF EASILY OFFENDED, DO NOT READ AND SKIP TO THE NEXT BLOG.

What you should know about ass bearded women.

A bearded ass is merely the epitome of lazy, fat or both. Women that take a high pride in themselves understand the importance of proper grooming especially in the ass region. One, because no one wants to see a beard peeking out between an ass crack and secondly, cleanliness is Godliness.

Often, the bearded ass woman will have a gaggle of other bearded asses and that’s not excluding they themselves are all equally fatties. In nature, fatties seem to pack up like a bag of jumbo puffs marshmallows. Let’s face it, thin, charmingly attractive and well mannered women don’t want to be seen canoodling with a hairy, beastly whale of a woman. That would be the equivalent of placing a dump next to a million dollar gated community, the property value drops.

Bearded buddies are often described as fugly, horse teethed and or having fat stacked flip flops purchased from those large chain discount stores. They love mumus, drinking beer. And, from the bottle or can no less. They often find seeking out the garage in order to have rendezvous’s with their car part salesman or beverage truck driver boyfriend, by which her teenage children will most definitely notice and report. Bearded bitches love snack time and cheap looking brick, shoebox houses.

Bearded ass fatties have the tendency to work menial jobs they got by forcing, a now ex-spouse, to pay more money for an education than the actual job is worth. And, let’s not forget how they pretend they are a scholars just because they went to college for a brief moment. Bearded butts tend to live in denial with the reality that a home depot worker makes more than they do without a degree. Whilst pretending, like a high paid actress, they put on the show of being a good mother, when in fact, they spend more time neglecting their children all in an opportunity to drink booze with other fat friends.

They are often known as dick suckers or cock gobblers verses actually being a fucker. Those fatties most assuredly swallow like the nasty cunts they are. The one thing that defines a woman of class is the simple question of swallow or spit? Only a swallower shows her true nature, trailer trash. But then again, fat women have to pull all stops because… Well.. Because they are fat.

Butt beards are known for several common traits, fat being the more obvious one and the more obscure being their gapping puss hole. Sloppy and oversized like that biggie size order of frys she’s pounded earlier in the day. They will complain they can’t feel a dick in that abyss because it would take the girth of a bologna log to fill that stinker hole. That Vag hole is like Jonas being a cock and that gapping puss the whale, swallowing it whole.

Butt beards equally have challenges of keeping their ass region clean, mostly because of that bear coat growth in their ass, but also because wiping that giganta – ass is as complicated as a rubix cube. Therfore, the slight smell of shit can be detected and or puss odor.

They typically choose m&m colored cars and love small stupid looking suvs as well as Ford focuses and dodge neons. They often have yellow kitchens, bathrooms or bedrooms as if all that cheer will brighten their gloomy shit hole life, which is an epic failure but nevertheless they try.

Butt beards equally love defending their brood of children even when caught red handed in a crime so long as that crime is against a more beautiful alpha female. Jealousy rules their world like the moon rules the tide.

Fatty ass coats love to invite grown children back into their tiny shoebox house, only to let them squat on a sofa like homeless hobo who just wandered in from the street. Clothes and filth will liter the living room like a horders house and if you just decide to be brave enough to see what articles of clothing are clean or not will most likely find is impossible. All clothing from an ass coats home will smell soured from leaving them to rot in the washer. Apparently, transferring them to the dryer is just too much effort.

The fridge will be a putrid over growth of rotten fruit, vegetables with good intentions and take out boxes. Milk cartons gone sour to old and crusty condiments will fill otherwise empty spaces and the very tinge of stink will be detected.

It’s important to note that women of this nature are often located/living in shit hole, back wood areas and typically man hate as a way to deflect their own fat asses, ugly faces and hateful attitudes. Mind set of a fatty is merely to use a man if they can catch one but they can not. If they do after say 35, it will most likely be another washed up fatty with a minimum wage job.

Bitter, bearded ass women should be avoided at all times. Go the other way, fake an emergency or out right call for help. They are not your friend and if they want to be, then you’re fucked anyway.

Disclaimer, this blog is written in good fun and fictional mirth. Any likeness to any person /persons or even affiliate is merely coincidence.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Cattiness can be cheap therapy. Especially when written.

Hypervigilent Me.

There is a moment in everyone’s life where we must ask ourselves if what we are doing is worth it. The next question, Is the action worth what you will benefit?

In my own need to avoid failure, I have chosen the route of brutal honesty. I know that if I attempt to be someone I’m not or even pretend to be accepting, have certain opinions or have beliefs I do not, I’ll most definitely fail. Why? That’s really simple for me to awnser, because I know I will fail. I’m incapable of the lie. I think it’s also because I have a strong sense of who I am and how I feel about something or an idea.

If I were to try and go against that, over time I’d end up letting the cat out of the bag. At that point, I have most likely disappointed someone in some way.

Therefore, I have to be true to myself even when the majority of people prefer the lie over the truth. And, that’s what I have found over the course of my life, people just don’t like the truth. That goes for pretty much anything and any topic.

Amazing really, but I understand it.

However, in the particular subject I’m referring I honestly have so many thoughts that it’s hard to compound them into something that is decipherable. There seems to be so many layers upon layers of emotion and just when I get past one, I find another waiting.

In a nutshell, I realize that if I’m forced to (deal/put up) with a certain individual who is nothing short of a miserable, unhappy and bitter person just so I can be around another, the choice is clear. I’ll pass on all of it.

I would like to actually write further about this in a more detailed way and I will, but for now I’m in the early stages of even understanding what has happened.

If I’m in a position to always be the target of someone’s hate then I’ll never be able to be anything more than the eye of a hurricane. I will inevitably be stuck inside the tumultuous winds around me and can never truly escape it.

Unless, I chose to never step inside the eye. And that’s where I’m at. I’m removing myself from the eye and walking completely away because in my opinion it’s just not worth the effort. In other words If I have to tolerate a heinous person just to have a relationship with another, I’d rather just not altogether. I just don’t care that much, and if it makes me a bad person so be it. I can accept it.

I have had to deal with a lot of things in my life that were challenging, difficult and at times down right ugly. Time has passed and that part of my life is over and I finally have the peace, happiness and joy I truly never had. With that being said, I can honestly say, I just don’t have in me to tolerate anything sub par. I don’t have to, and I’m not going to. I refuse to be someone’s target because they themselves can’t put there jealousy, anger and hatred where it belongs, on them. That individual, that one single person, is the very one with the problem. It’s not me. It’s them. And I don’t have to be apart of it. I can separate myself from it and I choose to.

I intend on going further with this because I think it’s important what I want to say and what needs to be said into the universe, but I do need a minute to formulate my words. I need to find them and gather them so I say it right because I truly believe that what I have to say is significant and important.

Perhaps not important to most, but there is atleast one person it might mean something to and even if they never read it, I still need to say it.

So, I’ll close for now with hopes of returning to the continuation very soon.

I’d like to thank my husband, my twin flame and greatest joy for giving me the courage to stand on my own.

Thank you for reading ❤️