Category: My Life Story

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I am a Good Wife

Conventional wisdom always encourages people to be vulnerable, open & honest. But I struggle with the reverse- the feeling that it isn’t okay to withhold & keep thoughts to myself.

Especially in marriage. James wants me to tell him everything & says it is damaging if I don’t. Which is great in theory, since I have the desire to share all my thoughts & feelings. But in reality it doesn’t work out so well. Frequently he will get angry about my thoughts or tell me why they are incorrect & then I am forced to go through an endless wrangling process trying to defend them. The process is confusing & doesn’t end until I have either accepted his replacement thoughts or am too tangled up to function anymore.

Now to someone else this might be no problem. They would just share what they wanted to share and keep the rest to themselves. But I have this compulsive feeling that my perceptions must be validated by another person before I can trust them. I can hardly be certain the sky is blue without first asking someone. And I also have this compulsive feeling that I must obey James. I can’t withhold information unless he gives me permission to do so, regardless of how much confusion & discomfort sharing may cause. Basically I don’t trust my own mind & have no will of my own.

I guess this traces back to when I was a teenager & my first husband was my spiritual guide & I needed to tell him absolutely everything so he could remove my ego, realign my thinking & enable me to achieve enlightenment. The process involved lots of screaming & public humiliation, including sexual, since these are the most tried & true methods of ego removal. Since then, I have never been able to regain that feeling of trusting my own mind and feeling that I am my own master. I don’t even know how to explain it to people who take having their own mind and will for granted.

I am trying very hard to put these boundaries back in place but it is a struggle. I don’t feel I have the right to make choices for myself without asking someone else’s permission and am scared of what will happen if I do.

My husband likes control. I don’t mean this as a bad thing and maybe it is even a quality I admire. But one rule of our relationship is that he is allowed to make decisions while I am not. He can decide what to do with money- and spend enormous sums- without consulting me. I cannot access money without consulting him and telling him what I wish to buy. The flip side is that he is much more financially generous with me than he is with himself. Generally he will get me whatever I want- even if it is frivolous or wasteful- while being stingy with himself. And this same pattern applies to all aspects of our relationships. If I want something & it is within his power to give it to me, he probably will. But I am not allowed to make decisions without consulting him, whereas he is allowed to make decisions without consulting me.

I am supposed to trust him. But he isn’t supposed to trust me. I am deemed incapable of making any significant decisions even if they impact no one but myself. As an example, I want to see a shrink & there is one nearby I can see for free. Not because I am looking for guidance, I just want the experience of talking to a human without feeling it is such a struggle to get my thoughts out and have them heard and accepted. I just want to experience something new- the feeling of noncombative communication.

But James is against this. So what are my choices? Try to change his mind? Trying to convince James of anything is impossible. The certain outcome is that I will end up adopting his perspectives because anything else becomes too unpleasant. I could go behind his back, but that would violate my compulsive need to be transparent with him. So the only real option is to tell myself it isn’t a good idea anyway.

The official justification for obeying him is that he is more grounded than me and makes better choices. (I should add here that I am sometimes allowed to make choices- it is just that he decides which choices I am or am not allowed to make.) But the truth is I am just scared of what will happen if I don’t obey him. I am afraid he will find a way of punishing me or else stop loving me which is a punishment itself. Any time I attempt to assert my will it turns into a horrible fight from which it can take me a long time to recover.

I feel like everyone reading this will think either A) Holy shit you are a dumbass or B) Wow, what a horrible wife writing something which could cast her husband in a bad light.

And I have no defense against being a dumbass. I am a fucking dumbass and I live this every day. But I am not a bad wife.

The other day I told James I was suffering from having no one to talk to, that I couldn’t be real with anyone or even on my blog. He said, “Why not? You can write whatever you want.” I said, ” Well I’m worried that you won’t like it.” He said “Just try it and find out- it will be fine. You’ll see. Trust me.”

So I am trying it. And trusting him. Just like he told me to do. I am a good wife.

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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

What is a dick?

Please forgive me if I make no sense. Right now the whole universe is bombarding my mercury- aka brain- and it has sped thought processes to where I can hardly function. Zillions of thoughts colliding into each other & all of them breaking into fragments. This will last a couple more years.

I can still write songs in this state, but songs come out like eggs. You have to let the emotional energy congeal again before laying the next one. In the meantime, there is still too much I need to express. Plus I am so alone & this blog is my closest friend.

So I am barfing out thoughtlets. To release them from my mind.

One strange thing about my mind is how it seems to have different pieces which live side by side, unknown to one another. I would notice this at school when I would get perfect scores on tests which- as far as I knew- I knew nothing about. Subjects like advanced math & science where you can’t fake it. Also, everything related to sex.

As a teen the last thing in the world I wanted was to be associated with sex or even being female. This could partially explain why I changed my name to Julian.

Buying female products was my worst nightmare. I would go to the store in disguise & wait til there were no people around. Later the products would be stored in a box hidden behind a dresser in a closet. I invented multiple codes for writing in my journal so that I could write in double code (a code within a code). But this wasn’t enough, so when they were finished my beautiful journals would have to be ripped to pieces and then burned. What was I writing about? Boys. Liking them was the most secretive & humiliating thing imaginable.


At the same time, however, I was- unknown to myself- constantly broadcasting sexual things in an inappropriate way. It was only many years later that the constant explicit nature of my actions became clear to me.

There was the way I would eat bananas in front of younger teenage boys. They would always ask me to eat them over and over again which I was happy to do since I brought 2 bananas with me to school every day. There was the time I plastered the school with a poem about 2 soft squishy balls which a man liked to play with. I really thought it was a poem about favorite toys and was bewildered by how people would crack up. There was my final art project at university which I thought was a tree, but in retrospect was a realistic picture of a dick sliding through a hole. There were the poems I wrote about people coming all over things and the look on the teachers faces when they read them. The times I would jump up on tables and start doing pelvic thrusts at family get togethers. Passing people notes that said “Do you want to make love?” Painting pictures of soldiers have sex with their dads and writing songs which (in retrospect) were obviously about people getting raped but at the time I thought they were songs about colors.

In my mind, almost everything was a color or a feeling. The literal meanings of things did not compute. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anyone to believe this because it doesn’t even make sense to me. How can someone know something and not know something at the same time?


I don’t know.

The End.

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Charleston, West Virginia men My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

Being Different People

Ned- the first born of the 5 giants.

Husband 1, in a past life, belonged to a race known as the Wise Ones. Wise Ones lived in lavish castles. They did not work. The vibration of their souls attracted great wealth to them. When Wise Ones incarnate on the earth plane however, they struggle to survive without the riches their soul is accustomed to. This can lead to depression and even heart failure.

Sometimes husband would lie on the floor with his hands on his chest, struggling to breath, too heavy for this world. The only thing that could save him was millions of dollars.

It seemed unlikely he could earn the money himself. Years of job aptitude tests had uncovered only two potential career options- wine tasting & boob feeling. I tried to find him a job in the boob feeling industry but massage therapy was too demanding. He got a job in a wine store but they only paid minimum wage.

I painted, wrote songs & made a little money but not enough to support us much less give him the lifestyle he deserved. Then he read a book on channeling and decided that I could channel information on how we could manifest millions of dollars straight from the ethers.

I didn’t feel great about this. Becoming a hollow tube for other beings to speak through wasn’t my cup of tea and I didn’t think I could do it anyway. But he needed millions of dollars within the next few months and I didn’t have a better idea.

So…. to make a long story short, I channeled that we should rename our apartment Archimedian Estates and paint everything inside it pink, gold & black. And we needed to fill it with 100 species of plants & a pet from each animal kingdom. This would make us millionaires.

A couple months later, the whole place was pink, black and gold. We had 26 plants, one snake, two birds, a fish and an eviction notice. Far from being millionaires, husband was now hitting up my friends and family for money- a humiliating fate. We separated then. I felt maybe, just maybe, I could eke out an existence alone, but there was no way in hell I could support a Wise One. They need all of life’s finest things just to survive.

The world was harder than I imagined though and a year later we were back together. The need for channeling picked up. Could I channel Mary, Archangel Michael, the Moon, the spirit of Fame? It made my head feel weird. But if I objected he would say “Hang on- I need to ask Auriel about this!” He yelled at me constantly but never at the other beings. Sometimes I would switch into them just as a safe spot.

Channeling snowballed fast. Before long Julien had been pushed out altogether and replaced by an ever growing cast of characters. It was no longer about channeling advice either. Now it was about him connecting to different women who were his wives and all these different humanoids who were his children.

His children included 5 giants- Brownie, Big Stuff, Ned, Ted & Fred. 1,000 genies called ‘the Hectors.’ And various others such as Sweet Cookie, Shelley, Fufu, Hunkdehunk, Sweetsie & Cherry Lemonade Spritz.

His wives are harder to remember but included Clementine, Ambrosia, Auriel & Earth. He would have sex with them. In general he preferred a different type of female than me- the Strong Business Woman. His wives were closer to this ideal. They even had different bodies.

I don’t know how long the period lasted in which I was continuously other people. Maybe 5 years. During this time husband got a job at Target. I would stay home reading books on magic & trying to do impossible things. Home was various places, like motels in the middle of deserts. Basements on the outskirts of Brooklyn.

I no longer ate normal food but subsisted on weird things like Chuckles & Jello. I liked these foods because they resembled the jell loafs Auriel ate in her world. I didn’t have normal clothes either. At one point the only thing I had to wear was a little girl’s cheerleading skirt he brought me home from Target & a teddy bear sweater (a sweater made for a teddy bear) which I wore as a hat.

Sometimes I would write songs but mostly I was plagued by weird fears, like my legs falling off. Unresolvable mental dilemmas would torture me for days like whether my soul smelled more like rose or ylang ylang. I would prank call people or send them weird letters & they would think I was scary.

I knew I had fallen out of step with society & felt ashamed but couldn’t find my way back. The only person I spoke with was my husband but he didn’t speak to me, just through me to his wives and children. I could no longer choose to not channel them since that would mean separating a man from his entire family, an inhumane act by any standards. They seemed to bring him joy.

And to this day I struggle with dissociative identity disorder. Maybe. But I don’t know if this is related to the time I spent being other people or not.

The End

Shelley. She had a soft jelly-like yellow body & rode in a wheelchair since her body was too soft. She wore a football helmet on her head and kept covered up in a blanket since she got so cold. She loved math & her pet fish. Sometimes I miss these friends & feel sad they are fading from my imagination.
Sweet Cookie who has two very wise pet squirrels- Nimrod & Noodleface. They have all sorts of special knowledge.



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What’s going on…

Recently, I’ve felt blocked from expressing myself because I’ve been under so many external influences that its been hard to hear through the noise.

I mentioned before how I used to be in the habit of keeping an ESP journal every morning. This would mean drawing the psychic forces (coming from people) that were impacting me.  Once I drew them their impact would somehow release, so it served a function similar to taking a shower.

When I started this journalling though, my contact with the outside world was extremely limited. Mostly, I was picking up things hitting James, which were primarily business contacts. A client would be mad at him for dropping the ball. Someone would be trying to get in touch with him. In those days, my accuracy was amazing, due to tiny size of my world. Maybe this is why women have traditionally lived small lives inside a home, rather than big lives dealing with the public. We are so squishy & prone to impact.

Back then I mostly only had to focus on one spot- the right side on top of the head- because that is where the majority of business issues take place. (In 95% of cases, males hit you from the right & females from the left. Also, 65% of non-romantic interactions hit in the head area– business, social media, an old friend thinking about you etc. If they hit around the ears or throat, they are likely talking about you or in the process of contacting you. If they hit the stomach area, they are actively competing with you. In the heart, they are either wanting to form a relationship or after your money. In the privates, it is sexual. But all in all, the head is the most hit.)

Eventually though, I started looking more at the left side of the body & non-head parts, leading to discoveries which changed my relationship with James and pretty much my whole identity. I had been 100,000% wife with no other parts to myself, but it felt like I had been kicked in the head out of the nest & had to try flapping my own wings, something I never thought it would come to. So I started using social media a lot more & also expressing more through music. This caused the balls to start hitting me directly, rather than me intercepting balls meant for James. The balls meant for him now faded into the background where I could barely see them anymore. And as I interacted with more people in more ways, the number of balls started to increase. Sometimes they were people I didn’t know and I would just write down their approximate age, weight, hair color & length (for some reason race doesn’t show up for me & black people look white which has led to a bit of confusion.) And of course, the colors they were emitting towards me which showed thoughts, feelings, intents.

During this phase, I began to feel less lonely. Because I realized humans are interconnected to a frightening degree. All the things we share- anger, hatred, dumb ideas, love, care, protection & even sexual energy are all transmitted through the air. You don’t have to intentionally ‘send’ love, like new age people do- if you actually love someone, the energy is already there. If you don’t, then good luck sending it. We are inherantly connected to each other & whatever we actually think, feel & intend is automatically broadcast. There is nowhere to hide & no place you can be alone. That is probably why I am sharing more, despite being a private person by nature- because I have realized that the truth is already out there. You can throw out a bunch of confusing signals, but eventually the smoke will clear & reality will be visible to all.

So for a while it felt my psychic abilities were expanding and expanding to the point where I was on the cusp of being able to amaze people as a circus act but then…

Then traffic to my website started to pick up dramatically. The number of inputs to my head increased. Now I could spend 2 hours drawing in my journal, but it wasn’t even clearing out 5% of the factors influencing me. It was like a wreath of static had formed around my head. It felt like a fire. This could be why people who get famous go insane and die. My head is so soft to begin with though, I don’t think it takes much attention for me to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to do. 

So I stopped the ESP stuff around a year ago. I still haven’t found my way yet, because I need a method to clear the influences, but at the same time can no longer isolate & draw out every last person. There were other problems with the journal too- like it was making me too obsessed with other people & also what James was thinking. After drawing his thoughts & communications, I would then log into his computer to check my accuracy. When females were involved I would feel insanely jealous. I would try to avoid saying anything to him, but it would pop out anyway. He would get mad. So I didn’t feel too good about this, but there was really no way I could draw all the balls (which James wanted me to do) while also remaining emotionally detached. Plus, it began to feel tedious to have to pay this much attention to others while feeling completely cut off from my own desires & guidance. I felt like if I could tune into people this much, surely I could tune into something else instead… something maybe which could uplift me and help me to make sense of life.

So, that is the point where I remain…… trying to figure out what I need to get in touch with. Sometimes I feel I have found it & other times I accidentally plug into something which knocks me off my feet & it takes weeks to recover. More on that later.

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Falling in Love with Spiritual

I am not sure if this post is sexual and hence inappropriate or not sexual at all. It isn’t sexual to me. If it is sexual to you, then apologies. But there are things I am feeling compelled to talk. They are like giant bubbles rising up from my stomach and forcing their way out of my mouth. I may need to write a number of somewhat personal blog posts to get to the bottom of why I can’t stop talking about dicks. I don’t know where to begin, so I will just vomit up one little bubble about my life.

This is the story of how I fell in love with husband #1. Some of this has been shared before. So apologies for any repetition.

We will refer to this husband as Spiritual, because that was his name for part of the time I knew him. He goes by a different name now & this post is not intended to impact his reputation.

Spiritual was driving me to Michigan to attend a spiritual retreat. Spiritual was my spiritual guide, not my boyfriend. The eastern philosophies I was absorbing had taught me that obedience to a guru was the surest way to achieve enlightenment. God had contacted Spiritual and told him to be my guru. This seemed like a miracle, an answered prayer, since I had been praying for somebody to guide me.

Spiritual had made it clear that attending this retreat would be the key to getting rid of the ego. I had no idea what to expect. Getting in the car with a odd smelling male and going on an unknown retreat was not my cup of tea, but I had already accepted that the process of becoming enlightened was gonna suck. I was majoring in Tibetan buddhism & most of the stories of enlightenment involved eating shit, murdering people & doing all sorts of distasteful things. Crazy wisdom, they called it. But it was just the ego that found these things distasteful. Once you reached enlightenment, it was all worth it.

So we were speeding 80 mph down the highway in his van, when suddenly Spiritual said “There’s something we need to talk about…. THIS” and firmly grabbed my crotch, leaving his hand there. I froze. I tried to remember that it was just molecules touching molecules. It had no meaning. This is something I would tell myself when things were gross.

Then he pulled the car over to a rest stop. He said to get out of the car and stood there and said I needed to kiss him. I couldn’t do it. It’s like when you are trying to get yourself to eat a slug and you can’t. We stood there for the longest time. Finally he started screaming at me and I pecked him on the lips. We got back in the van.

We drove to his parents house. This was a shock to me, since I thought we were attending a spiritual retreat center. He introduced me as his girlfriend. I was confused. I thought he was my spiritual leader. I didn’t say anything. Then he went up to his parents room and lay on the floor naked. He said I needed to touch his whole body admiringly because he hadn’t been appreciated enough in his life. I did it.

Next, he said we needed to get married. Because he was Catholic and I had touched his naked body. (Catholicism had not come up before.) This idea repulsed me. I was still a teen and had no desire to be married, especially to him. So I agreed and started wearing his mother’s engagement ring.

As soon as we were engaged things changed instantaneously. He started yelling at me constantly. Making humiliating scenes every time we were out in public. He had yelled at me before (he called it giving me an ‘ego bat’), but now it was unrelenting. It never stopped. But still I fell in love with him. A cascade of molecules caused me to feel high when I touched his hand. I became very attached to him. Inseparable. It got to where I literally could not think a single thought without running it through him to see if it was true or false.

Technically him grabbing my crotch on the way to the spiritual retreat was not the first time we’d had physical contact.

After he became my spiritual guide, Spiritual told me that God had presented him with two choices. I must choose one or the other to stay on the path of enlightenment. Either ask my best male friend to “go down on me” or if I wouldn’t do that then Spiritual would need to perform the procedure.

This was far outside of my experiences and the thought of having to ask a male friend to do it would have been worse than eating a live heart. I would rather have killed myself. So I agreed that he would do it. On the appointed date he took me to a hotel room. I will spare you the details. But don’t worry- this is not an erotic story and it was not an erotic experience. I just lay there with most of my clothes on. I had had surgery on that part of my body as a kid and also many medical procedures. They hurt, but afterwards I got oatmeal cookies. This wasn’t too different. He stuck various things in me. I don’t remember what they all were. One was a blow pop. When I was a kid I would always get to choose a lollipop before the most painful procedures making them bittersweet.

He said he “came twice.” This didn’t have a precise meaning to me. He said it might be useful to touch other body parts. I said okay. That didn’t mean anything to me. I was just a bunch of molecules lying on a table on their way to achieving enlightenment. Afterwards I felt kind of relieved like how you feel when you are leaving the dentist office and are patting yourself on the back for being responsible. Poor Julien. What a doofus.

And not even that experience was unprecedented. It is just that I had this way of completely tuning out anything remotely sexual to the extent that it didn’t exist in my mind. I have told people before that I’ve never been hit on once in my life, but maybe it only seemed that way because my mind just wouldn’t process the sexual implications of any encounter regardless of how blatant they were.

Once for example, this guy kept putting my hand on his dick and I kept moving it off his dick. This didn’t register as sexual to me (despite being an adult), it just seemed like nonsensical behavior, as though someone was trying to touch my elbow with his nose. I didn’t want to touch the gross slimy slug but I didn’t see the male as sexually motivated.

So anyway, before I became his girlfriend or even his disciple, Spiritual insisted I hug him every time I saw him (which was not desired since he reeked of b.o.) and then he would sing this song, “You always give me a boner.” Then he would explain how he got a boner each time he hugged me. Obviously this should have been a warning sign as to what would happen if you got in a van with this guy. But I had changed a lot of diapers as a kid and babies sometimes had boners. So I just saw it in that light, not a sexual one.

And he would sometimes ask if I could remove undergarments so he could study their fabric due to his interest in fabrics. Luckily, I didn’t do that. If he had said it was necessary for spiritual reasons, I would have, but I didn’t want to do something icky just to increase his knowledge of textiles. He would also say weird things about how my br–sts seemed to be attached to my chest. I just filed this under molecules talking about molecules. Things that had no rhyme or reason. So many things in life, so many things people did, just seemed nonsensical to me. They had no explanation. Molecules talking about molecules.

And it worked both ways- I would frequently say and even act out sexually explicit things, like writing songs about rape that (in my mind) were songs about colors or turning in a giant picture of a dick for my final art project which in my mind was a picture of a tree. But this is a subject for another post.