Physical Violence is the elephant in my mind. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel or think about it so I don’t.
The first time James got violent I was asking him questions. Specifically questions about his pro-gun stance. While I mostly shared his views, some of his arguments didn’t make sense to me. He had just gotten news of a financial defeat so I should have stayed silent. But at the time I wasn’t good at shutting the fuck up. Eventually I learned, but it didn’t really help.
So he got upset and left the room. I followed him. I was extremely clingy. Later I learned not to be clingy but that didn’t help either. He told me to Go Away and I said No. He said if I didn’t leave he’d fucking crush me and I said go ahead.
Then he pushed me really hard like… I don’t think I understood how strong men are until that moment. I thought they were more or less like me. But it was supernatural. I don’t know what happened except that I ended up on some stairs with my arm cut open from wrist to elbow cause it got caught on the metal door latch.
I guess I was in shock & crying hysterically. James was like a god to me. At the time it seemed like hurting your wife was horrifically wrong. Now it doesn’t seem so wrong to me. But at first it was shocking and I was crying hysterically.
James told me I had to stop crying but I didn’t. He dragged me across the floor and sat on top of me with hands around my neck looking at me with this crazy look in his eyes. I thought he was going to kill me. I was screaming hoping the neighbors would hear me. I screamed for Slippers and she came. Then James got off of me. Later on though Slippers would just run and hide.
Afterwards was even more confusing. Writing about the incident now, I feel like I am a baby for even whining about it but at the time it felt earth shattering. Like I’d entered a new reality and the world as I knew it no longer existed. I thought James would be sorry but he wasn’t. He didn’t seem to think it was a big deal that my whole arm had turned yellow from bruising. If I tried to bring it up what had happened he would say “Well why did you say this? Why did you say that? What did you say 5 sentences before that? You don’t remember? If you can’t even remember then how can we talk about it? What angle were you standing at? What socks were you wearing 3 days earlier? These facts are important.”
There was no remorse just an endless string of questions about details surrounding the day that I couldn’t remember and when I would get frustrated with those questions he said he needed those details to make sense of things. The problem wasn’t him pushing me, it was all these little things I’d said and done which made him push me.
And the following years were all about that. Don’t use this word, use that word. This phrasing is the problem. Stating things as a question is the problem. I would read more and more books about how mens’ minds worked and try to change my tone, my phrasing, my facial expression. None of it helped but I always felt I was on the cusp of knowing what he needed and being able to give it to him.
Later on, maybe 4 or so years later, cheating came into play too. Cheating is the vocalist. It grabs all your attention. Violence is more like bass and drums. It hits you in the reptile centers. That is why I don’t know how to process it or even if it merits processing.
The first time it happened I thought it was a really big deal. Over time it became more commonplace to where I feel like a petty little bitch for writing about it. I don’t know if it matters or not. Why would it matter? People hurt all the time.
I hadn’t seen my dogs for almost 2 weeks because people were telling me it was too dangerous and I could get killed.
But one day I couldn’t take it any longer. As a single person I have friends, but its mental & airy. You miss the vegetable acceptance you can get through family. But Slippers & Patton are more than family. They are forever friends. Missing them was this pain in my heart that wouldn’t go away. I felt like they were calling me.
I’ll never forget the crazy smiles on their faces when I came through the door. We were all barking and crying and running around in circles trying to bite each other. Then James- who had not seemed to be there- called the cops but I didn’t even care. We were outside of time.
I went outside to talk to the police. They said I wasn’t in trouble. I wasn’t breaking the law since it is my house, my dogs and only James has a no contact order on him. But they said they didn’t want to leave me there just in case anything happened so they waited outside to give me 5 more minutes with my dogs & then told James to tell me a next time when I could visit them.
That was today and I just got back from 2 hours of seeing them. First we rejoiced, then we sang our favorite songs- Stand by Me, Fur Angel, Dog Went a Courtin’ & more. Then we had a snack. Then we lounged and stared into space. It was great to vegitate together. It is hard to be a vegetable in solitude. Plus they make me cry with their faithfulness.
Mushrooms were growing in the front yard of the house I used to share with Slippers and Patton. What does this mean?
I don’t place dogs above humans but I don’t place humans above dogs either. They seem very much alike except in how they dress. People keep telling me to get a new dog, but the thing is I have zero interest in dogs as a species. I have an interest in two specific people- Slippers and Patton.
Scorpio is a water sign, which means love and emotion. It is a black 8 turned on its side whose goal is to dig the deepest hole possible in one spot in order to create bonds of love so strong they survive the threshhold of death. Death is the test of love and everything really. Only that which is real survives.
So I’m not a let go and move on type of person. I don’t mind suffering for something which has value. But I would rather not invest in something which death will hack apart. Only those things you would suffer, bleed and die for really matter in the end because those are the only things that carry forward. That is my philosophy anyway. I believe there is an eternal world where treasure accrues. A relationship that withstands the tests of hell becomes immortal. Of course, this willingness to accept pain can sometimes backfire and make you hang on to the wrong things. But I do want my relationships with Slippers and Patton to make it to the Forever World. They are such special friends to me.
Lettuces forever.
Which brings me to another issue…. for a while there I felt I was finding a groove. Surviving as a poor person was seeming not only doable, but magical. Cleaning my clothes in a bucket, picking lettuces from the Lettuce Patch for the Poor, accepting charity where offered… it felt like I’d stepped into a fairy tale. But when I shared my enthusiasm for poverty on Facebook people started throwing all kinds of fear and anger at my head, calling me desperate for attention, playing at being poor, condescending to actual poor people while also abusing all humanity by being a lazy slob who needed a job. They also said they’d seen me make soldiers cry with their own eyes. On purpose.
Normally I don’t mind retard attacks, but now that I have no husband it feels more unnerving than it used to. There is no one to take my side against a mob* nor do I feel as willing to lose the support of random acquaintances.
The get a job thing bothers me especially, because I do have a job. In fact I care so much about this job that I’m willing to sacrifice wealth, respect and safety for it because it feels like a divine calling.
I don’t relate to the view where your success as an artist is based on the number of humans who know your creations. What if you only had an impact on one human? What if that human was your self? There is no way to measure how impacts play out over the course of time. What is more impactful- a song known only to Noah that he hummed on the ark for his animals- or the most popular song on earth right before everyone drowned in a flood? You can’t say really.
And beyond that, I feel art changes the world even if no one at all hears it, because it carves new spaces in the world of imagination. The realm that precedes that which is possible on earth. Success is the extent to which you can open the portals you are trying to open and build the magical kingdoms you are trying to build.
At first I just wanted to write songs, but now it is important to me to write the specific songs that bore the hole I am trying to bore. I have a feel of the sort of energy I want to usher into this plane. Muses come and go but there is a muse behind them who is constant.
And if my muse guides me to beg for quarters why not? People got so angry at me for bringing up begging on facebook but I think there is something beautiful about it. Someone holding up a cup, giving you the opportunity to place a coin inside? Who knows what good could come from that? And what is the danger in a coin moving from one place to another?
The problem is these other people’s views on life & their horrible judgments of my character really threw me off my own wavelength to where I couldn’t write songs or anything. As though I was a monster for not devoting my life to a 401k plan. But it’s hard for me to see how a life where you aren’t following your own spirit is even a life to begin with.
For me there is no choice. Even if I try to do what others want I won’t. I just have to do what I’m going to do anyway and hope for the best.
“Lettuces For The Poor” Lettuce Patch. If you take a solemn vow to be truly poor then you can take a lettuce of your choice.
Also, I have been on dates. Sweet men and delicious food.
Also, playing gigs for dollar bills and delicious food. I love it how people throw money into a hat or a guitar case. That is what started me thinking how beautiful it could be to beg with a metal cup. In between music, men, EBT & lettuce patches I am eating better now as a poor person than I ever did as a married lady of dignity and grace.
Also, someone I like asked me if I wanted to be friends with benefits. What does this mean? It sounds like such a cosmopolitan offer. My lesbians have assured me that pain this way lies. Then one lesbo called me on the sly to say she thinks its a great idea because relationships suck.
Also, I have a side hustle working as a secretary for one of my heroes, an herbalist. Years ago, I made a list of 10 people on earth I would like to meet. The other 9 were jackasses but this one has been a benefactor to me and changed my life. To receive help from someone you admire is a sweet feeling.
Also, it used to shock me how the black people on my street would walk down the sidewalk dancing and singing out loud. Now I do that too.
Also, I like the musicians I meet. I no longer hate people who play guitars. I guess I just hated the musician in myself because I grew up in a world where musicians had AIDS. But I’ve really come to cherish their freewheeling ways and the time we spend together. I love being able to ask people if they would prefer to eat a shit filled dick or have their own dick stapled to the wall & they will just consider the question and answer it rather than making me feel like I’m some kind of freak. I like being around people who are stoned. In their own way they are kindred spirits.
It’s almost like I’m becoming a free spirit.
Charleston West Virginia where I live.
Patton is glad I’m back. I wish you could have seen his smile a couple days ago when he saw me for the first time. He looked insane.Slippers my goldie angel.
* Btw…….. I said I feared no one would defend me from mobs now that I’m a single lady but that didn’t turn out to be true. My lesbians came to my defense just as they have before. Not just intercepting stones, but hurling them back. From a Scorpio perspective, nothing means more than a friend who will fight for you. This made me cry as well. I hope every female finds some serial killettes to have her back.
We normally start song time with Stand By Me, a song that was written by a dog for a dog.
I lie in bed at night with the lights on not wanting to shut my eyes. Cause when I shut them I see that James is angry at me, really angry and that makes me scareder. I wish there was something I could do to change it but there isn’t.
And when I close my eyes I feel how heartbroken I am about my dogs. I want to see them so badly it’s unbearable. But if I start crying I’ll have to sit up to keep from eating snot so it’s best to just lie down with eyes open.
On the bottle my middle initial is K but I may change it to Nunki, the second brightest star in Sagittarius. Nunki means Open Seas and brings the gifts of blue and communication.
A bossy friend told me of a poor person’s clinic near me where I should go for fear medication so I can sleep. I went there. In the waiting room a man was scratching himself while mumbling about killing people. His voice got louder as he groaned about being burned at the stake. Finally he was just shouting “Steak! Steak!” I started to freak out so texted “Help me!” to a friend then in a girly voice the man said “Help me!” Once I realized he could read my mind I relaxed.
The clinic gave me an official looking bottle of pills in a white paper bag for absolutely free. I had just walked in off the street with no insurance or anything. But they said if I come back I will have to give them blood. A price I won’t pay. I would rather pay in money. The pills they gave me dried out my mouth anyway.
James had his hearing. He pled guilty and was sentenced to one year of parole. This meant I didn’t have to testify but the trial was still traumatic because I don’t like seeing James in trouble. And I don’t like knowing he will be mad at me and potentially punish me.
My lawyer recused himself on the day of the trial for which I had prepaid him. He said he had to because he had been telling the magistrate that I would plead the 5th in order to not incriminate myself. Basically he implied I was lying. He did this because I wanted him to help me keep James out of trouble & also to keep me from having to testify. However, I had made it clear to my lawyer- I thought- that I wasn’t lying and I didn’t want to be portrayed as such. So this was unnerving & left me with no one to look out for my interests or explain what was going on.
I had also hired James’s lawyer to protect James. Like a damn fool apparently. Before he was hired I asked if he would be defending James by throwing me over a bus. I wanted to protect James but didn’t want to be sacrificed. He said “Good heavens! Of course not! That’s not how it’s done!” But it appeared he lied. There was something about the way he treated me that scared me on a deep level. James has been telling my friends that he & his lawyer are now going to sue me for abuse. I don’t know what kind of abuse but I guess I’ll find out.
But Monday I was not on trial. It was the state vs James. After James was sentenced however, the magistrate- at the urging of James’s lawyer who we will call Shitindick- said I wasn’t allowed to go into my house to get my possessions or see my pets. He said if I did I would go to prison. I started crying hysterically. I had already been told that nothing could happen to me at a trial that was for James so this was confusing. Technically I didn’t have to even be there.
So the next day I returned to the magistrate’s office to seek clarity. Everyone in the magistrates office assured me the magistrate could not legally ban a witness from seeing her dogs or accessing her own possessions. They looked me up in their system but there were no orders against me. They said it just couldn’t happen without a hearing or a petition against me being filed, none of which had taken place. They had no idea why the magistrate would have said that.
So I went to talk to the magistrate himself. I said I didn’t understand the legal basis of him telling me I would go to prison for collecting my things or seeing my dogs when there had been no hearing for me. I had not committed crimes, been offered legal representation or had anything filed against me. I told him his office had looked me up on the computers & assured me no conditions such as these were in place. They said it was impossible to punish the victim in a trial, only the person on trial can be punished.
He didn’t answer my question but just started talking about how the courts had bent over backwards for me (referring to when they banished James from the home while I was crying hysterically & begging them not to.) He kept saying “You ALLEGE these things against your husband” as though I was some conniving cunt trying to get James in trouble when he knew I’d been attempting to get the case dropped for months. He said “You’re not dumb, you ran for office.” as though dumbness was a prerequisite for getting head slammed.
“You had you chance to call 911 when James came back to the house.” he said. True, but how did that magically turn him into a monarch who can issue commands with no legal basis?
It’s obvious a crack ho lives here. I’m trying Mommy but it’s not easy!
On other notes, it’s not that easy to function at the moment. I hope this is just a phase but my beautiful apartment is turning into a crack den. On the plus side, I’m doing an okay job of learning poor people secrets. It’s not even so much about getting by with less, which I’ve done for years. It’s more about saying yes to free stuff and yes to other humans helping you. Being a mooch was always my greatest fear so being poor is good in some respects since it forces you to receive stuff.
Where I come from people offer you stuff, but you are supposed to refuse. “Oh please, let me run out in this blizzard to get you fresh bagels for breakfast!” “Oh no, please don’t! I’m on a diet anyway!” “You on a diet? Nonsense! I insist.” “No really, I couldn’t.” This goes on for a few minutes as a charming display of politeness & consideration.
So when someone makes me an offer now, like “Would you like this bagel?” I don’t know how to respond. Are they actually wanting to give me a bagel or are they wanting me to refuse it? I’ve been trying to say yes and see what happens but it is unnerving. If you said yes where I’m from you would be a social leper. But bagels are so tempting to the poor.
A person gave me this guitar. I said yes. Then laid it down on a dirty mattress with no sheets, crack ho style.Every day I check my tongue. So long as it’s still a perfect triangle I know my spirit is intact.
Everyone said leave James so you can have a life. What is a life? I thought I had one to begin with.
I don’t know what I think of my life so far. Right now I am delusional because I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know why. I don’t like shutting my eyes so I try sleeping with the lights on. I wake up a few hours later & want to see what is going on in the world.
Being single is fun. Because you can do what you want. People always said “Being single is fun because you can do what you want.” That always seemed dumb. I liked what I did when I was married. Writing songs, baking muffins. I didn’t feel I was suppressing a desire to suck two dicks at once.
But I can’t deny that something has changed because I am having a lot more fun even doing the same things I used to do. I feel less inhibited. I don’t mean in terms of men or flirting. I just feel more free to be a dumbass.
There have been so many moments of paradise. Performing music is paradise. Writing songs is paradise. Drinking an alcoholic beverage, talking to a person….
I was playing in an antiques store & there was this door that opened over and over making a chime sound. The chime sound mixing with the music was paradise. I’m playing with a bass player named Bill. The bass mixing with the melody is paradise.
I have a weekly gig at an Indian restaurant. The music mixing with images of Hindu gods is paradise. Getting paid in food and carrying my box of food home is paradise. I love playing for tips and I love playing for dinner.
I went to an open mic where someone was playing keyboard in the most elaborate fashion. The chorus was
We’re not dumb. We’re just as smart as you. We’re West Virginians. And we’re humans too.
The audience was singing this in unison. The keyboard was going wild. Someone threw a bottle through the air and it missed the trash. Bliss overtook me and I threw a bottle too hitting Bill in the head. Absolute paradise.
These paradise moments keep stacking up to where I almost feel I’ll lose control.
There is a flip side tho…. I am struggling more than expected to run a tight & crisp ship.
For starters I don’t know what to eat. I stocked up my pantry with boxes of macaroni and tuna fish, not foods I especially like. But even cooking macaroni is too much work when you don’t have a dishwasher. I don’t feel excessively grounded. I always felt it was James who kept me down to earth.
I was single once before for about 6 months & I really started to go off the deep end. I was nailing bath towels to my wall to use as telephones. If I managed to get 5 dollars, I’d buy a pool noodle. I wasn’t delusional… it’s hard to explain but I was very aware of whether or not contacting people via bathtowel actually worked. But imagination & magical thinking took over 90% of my brain. I was writing songs constantly. I performed all the time. I painted. Did nonstop magical experiments. Then for dinner I would smash a can of green beans open with a hammer.
So when I feel spaced out and start walking in circles, I worry a little what the future holds. I hope that staying connected to other people will keep my feet on the ground.
****
Now some pics…
A mermaid created by Vulgaris & a box of tea from Avulva who wants me to suck a bag of dicks this summer. Will I? Probably not because I am superstitious about men using their penises as straws to suck out the life force. Not to mention that I can’t afford STDS when my goal is to live off $2,400 a year.
People have been sending me things to hang on my wall which means so much to me. I can’t say I feel that alone. The problem is, many of the things require nails to hang and the landlord said no holes. I bought a pack of command strips but the instructions were so complex I gave up.
Tuna fish, macaroni, tuna fish, macaroni. Together for every meal. Food is mathematics. And handwashing dishes is worse than expected.
I’m not happy with this situation because food fills in the bass notes of our emotions and I want the full range. I like people who eat. I like people who cook. I don’t like people who spend years living off candy like I always do.
Washing clothes in a garbage can. There are no laundry machines where I live or even in the neighborhood so this is my best idea.
Fresh from the garbage can, clothes hang to dry. I hope they don’t get wrinkled. It’s my first time trying this.
The jungle creeps into my kitchen. Music is a source of bliss but it needs a counterforce to keep it in check. I don’t know if I’ll be able to supply that force for myself.
A candle. I always keep one candle burning somewhere with a secret wish attached.
Well it turns out double-saintdom is not all its cracked up to be. Enter the triple-saint.
The triple saint is a defensive position; flower turning into bud. The goal of the triple saint is to avoid feeling angry or hurt in situations that would rightfully make you so in the hopes of neutralizing a degenerative cycle.
Because no matter how much we talk up assertiveness, the reality is that assertiveness will sometimes get you killed. People are naturally going to advocate for themselves when it’s safe to do so. But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes you have to bend over & take it without getting broke on the inside. The triple saint is lubed and ready.
The triple saint is for when appeals to sympathy have fallen on deaf ears. You are overpowered, not human, and communication is pointless. You’re in a banana court for a crime you didn’t commit. People want you to swing. Why? Cause they took your money & if you die they don’t have to pay you back. The triple saint is for when you are the scapegoat.
Unlike the double saint, the triple saint has given up on being a pleasing mist. She knows all efforts to appease our futile. She is a pawn and the script has already been written. She is irredeemable & must be sacrificed.
The triple saint is caught in a backwards spiral. This is a relationship dynamic in which the more you give, the more you end up in debt. An example would be a hooker who works 7 days a week but owes her pimp so much money she can’t leave.
In a backwards spiral, you are always guilty, so you compensate by trying to give more, care more, cater more & pay closer attention to someone else so they will stop feeling wronged by you.
But no matter how you try, you just make things worse. All your efforts are either zeroes or strikes against you. And if you ever feel that this is unjust & try to defend yourself, well now you’re on trial for that. Guilty. Of hurting the other person by defending yourself. Guilty. Of being hurt by their actions. Guilty for how you made them feel, for what you made them do.
Backwards spirals occur when there is a power imbalance to begin with so confronting the other person will not succeed. Imagine a slave confronting their master. Any confrontation is a mark against you. Any complaint a grave injustice.
The path of the triple saint involves three steps which are simple but difficult to perform.
Stop Giving. This is most important.
You must turn off the flow of giving that you rely on to feel safe. To feel in control and hopeful that you might turn things around.
The triple saint must stop believing she can change people by loving them. Perhaps this works with plants, animals and babies but it doesn’t with men. Why? I don’t know. My theory is that God designed life in part to sharpen our wits. He doesn’t want us to be potatoes getting everything we want with hugs & smiles. And so he made darkness & men & the law of the jungle was born.
Anyway, here are the reasons you must stop giving…
a) To give up the dream that you can change people with love. So long as you see yourself as the cause and controller of other people’s behavior you cannot see them clearly. Without seeing your environment clearly, it is impossible to make wise choices.
b) Giving entangles you. You cannot truly feel great about constantly giving to someone who mistreats you. So you will end up feeling upset. This will eventually leak or explode out and become evidence of what a bad person you were all along.
c) Giving entangles you. You cannot truly feel happy about giving to someone who mistreats you. You will want them to change & will eventually express this in some form. This will make them feel controlled.
c) Giving entangles you. The more you give the more you are associated with the person’s problems. The problems you are trying to solve. So when blame comes down the pipe, you will be the first one hit.
d) Giving places you in the parent role. Whatever unresolved parent issues he has will be placed onto you. He starts expecting you to be responsible for everything, including his feelings. And at the same time you will be unappreciated and invisible as a person in your own right. Like a mom. You are a source of support and a place to dump negativity.
e) When you become the parent, he becomes the child. It’s not safe for men to regress into childlike roles, dues to their natural aggression which needs to be controlled through a sense of personal responsibility.
f) Men are rewards driven. When you give in response to bad behavior, you incentivize it. If you try to heal pain, you incentivize pain. If you cater to mental illness, you incentivize insanity.
g) Giving is a drug that eases anxiety. Until you stop, you won’t really know what feelings you are running away from or be able to address them.
f) Giving depletes your resources. And you are going to need them. Maybe you can’t stop the attacks, but you can be strong when they occur.
Give to yourself. Maybe you are the person you can actually change.
You probably fear you will be attacked if you invest in yourself. Maybe you will be. But you will be attacked anyway. Investing in yourself will make you stronger, more able to withstand, and a less appealing target.
Men- unlike women- never treat people well for being nice. They respect power. Having more of it is your best hope for good treatment.
And even if it doesn’t change how you are treated it gives you more options.
Giving to yourself can mean different things. What holes do you have that you are hoping this man will fill? Can you fill them yourself?
Are you seeking romantic feelings? Touch? Money? Friendship? A garbage man? Someone to compliment your eyes your thighs? If you can figure out what you are needing you can start trying to resolve your own neediness. Use your energy to fill your own holes. Stop trying to fill his holes. They might not be what you think they are anyway, since men tend to hide their true needs & feelings while projecting out false vulnerabilities for their enemies to strike.
If you are with him for sex, buy a vibrator. Money, get a job. Self-esteem, start praising yourself. Romance, buy scented candles & lie under a flower bush.
Lastly, what should the triple saint do when attacked? Don’t fight back or defend. Their goal is for you to be bad. They have more power than you or you wouldn’t be here. Any battle is a loss for you.
See attacks as weather. A cold breeze is touching you. A piece of hail falls on your head. Take shelter or curl into a ball but don’t fight. There’s nothing to fight. What’s happening has nothing to do with you. It hurts so bad to be powerless to change things, powerless to make things better. It hurts to have love withdrawn after you have made all life choices around the idea it would always be there. But saints were born to hurt. Just hold on to the idea that there is another world where you are loved. A perfect world. Rest there silently until the storm passes.
What is a double saint? Is it someone who performs twice as many good deeds as a regular saint?
No. The problem with regular saints is they push themselves too hard. To serve. To be good. They strive. And so pressure builds up inside. One day they blow and to prison they go. This is what we call the saint paradox.
The double saint seeks to avoid this paradox by striving less, but also being less at the same time. When you are nothing, you don’t annoy people as much. Then it takes fewer good deeds to repay them for tolerating your existence.
In this post I will assume you want to become a double saint to get along better with a man. If not, adjust accordingly.
Here is the path of the double-saint.
In all things think vapor. You are no longer a person. You are a vapor. Always ask yourself “What would a vapor do in this situation?”
Speak less or not at all. A vapor listens and absorbs.
If you do speak, make it short, light and pleasing. Even praise should not be heavy handed. Coming on strong- even in a positive sense- requires the other person to be aware of your presence, which is taxing to their mind. Just one dandelion puff of uplifting words will do the trick.
Never question, criticize, disagree or weigh in on any subject unless asked. Why would a vapor do this? If you are in a car with a man who is driving off a cliff, you go off the cliff too. Wordlessly. You are a vapor. You will be fine.
Do nice things for the man. However do not strain yourself doing nice things or you will reach the saint’s paradox. Do nice things you enjoy doing, so that you don’t need him to notice or appreciate them. Needing to be appreciated would be a tax. The double saint strives to be completely untaxing and always relaxing.
Remove standards & expectations. A double saint must not only avoid putting pressure on the man, she must remain unpressurized herself. Do not hold him to any standards and if this makes it difficult to uphold standards yourself then let them blow away.
Do not become saintly by performing a mega house cleaning. Become double saintly by not caring. Once again this prevents the build up of emotional pressure that will eventually cause you to express yourself.
7. Be pleased by pleasing yourself. If men see you are pleased, they will take credit for it and be happy. If you tell them how to please you they will feel bossed. So learn how to please yourself in all ways while crediting your happiness to him.
8. Release objective reality. The double saint must never expect another person’s words to align with objective reality. Do not feel tangled up when words are false, nonsensical, self-contradictory etc. Just hear words as clouds of modern poetry beholden to neither rhyme nor reason. What is a word, but a tiny bird that a cloud once thought they might have heard? In this way you float gently through skies of lies without being tangled in a single knot.
Are you getting the idea? The saint strives, feels like the man isn’t holding up his side of the bargain & gets frustrated. She expresses this & ends up in the hospital. The double saint doesn’t care what the man does. She is able to not care by remaining in a non-pressurized state. She is able to be non-pressurized by removing expectations & activities that pressurize her.
Is a double-saint the same as a slacker? Not at all. To remain a vapor requires great discipline. She twas loose as a goose when they slipped on the noose. She received all abuse while remaining diffuse. Tho she lacks the vigor of the regular saint & is unlikely to slay dragons, her strength lies in equanimity. She knows her soul is immortal and therefore no problem will be the end of her.
And what does the double saint do when treated unjustly? What if she is yelled at, blamed or punished for a crime she didn’t commit? How can she avoid that natural emotion of anger or the desire to stand up for herself which she must avoid at all cost? What if she is stolen from, betrayed, raped and beaten, how does she retain her vaporous personality even then?
This is a tough one and I don’t know the answer. Just recognize that no one can be perfectly saintly, much less double-saintly. Try stress gummies, vallium and- in cases of verbal attack- attempt to discreetly cover your ears. If this is impossible, write down the words and turn them into a rhyme.
Why are you so dumb, you stupid cunt? When in yonder field the falcons doth hunt?
The scariest thing is when you love someone but slowly they begin to hate you and you don’t know why and so you try harder but you can’t be good enough and day by day they start to read more and more sinister motives into your actions until eventually you are an evil psychopath and there is nothing you can do about it. But you still love them. And you want them to love you. But you can’t control their perceptions. You don’t know why after basing your life around them you are morphing uncontrollably into this dark and sinister figure in their mind. And they treat you accordingly. Punishing you for the bad things you’ve done. And you want them to love you. They aren’t just a part of your life, they are your whole life.
And anything that goes wrong it is because of you. All negative feelings they have are because of you. If they don’t get out of bed, if they don’t have a clear head, it is because you did that to them. You are the essence of everything evil. But you want them to love you. And you don’t want to get help even if you need it because if you do they will hate you for making them look bad. But they already hate you. And you don’t know why. And you want to change it but you can’t.
And other women are good. They are deep and insightful. He tries to get them to open up. He tells you you aren’t allowed to talk. You are the essence of everything evil. But you just want him to love you. You would do anything if you could make him love you again. But you can’t.
You try every piece of advice. The problem is you are too boring, so you try to be interesting. But you aren’t. Because you don’t even exist except when something goes wrong. When something feels wrong. When there is a memory of wrongs long ago. Then you are the cause. The problem is you aren’t respectful. So you try not to have opinions and to always agree. Mental submission is the easy part.
The hard part is when he tells other women he loves them. If you find this behavior hurtful he says you are deranged. It is just a game. A game that you started. Other women don’t get upset when their husbands tell other women they love them. They wouldn’t scream or cry! Look at you! Have you looked in the mirror? You do this because you are an angry person. You are evil. You threaten people. He is scared of you.
And I could endure anything if I felt he truly loved me. Violence, poverty, insanity, I don’t care. But if they don’t even love you, then what was the point of it all? You give everything you can think of to give, always coming up with new things but in the end you are just the cause of their problems. Someone else is wonderful. She is so deep. He knows this because she doesn’t say much, just responds LOL to everything he types. How can she pack so much meaning into a few letters? Because she is good. You are bad. She is caring. You are a psychopath.
He tells her this. That you play games. She says wow you really need to get out of there. He doesn’t say what these games are that you play. If you knew what they were you would try to stop playing them. And you can’t ask him what they are because you aren’t allowed to ask questions. It is one of the rules. Meanwhile he tells her, “You know you can ask me anything you want.” She is allowed to ask him questions because she isn’t evil. But she doesn’t have any question to ask him. LOL.
You keep thinking of what you can do to change the situation, to turn things around. But he’s already told her he doesn’t love you, he’s just with you to have access to his computers. He’s just with you until the trial is over. You make him dinner. He eats it and leaves angrily. You wonder if he is reading this. If he is he won’t like the way he is portrayed and will never love you again.
But how can you make him love you again? You tried magic, prayer, cooking, cleaning, praising, listening, silence, obedience, jumping at any chance to be helpful although mostly he just wants you to leave him alone except for when he needs you to listen to him tell you about the bad things you’ve done. You got upset. That messed up his chemicals. It jacked up his cortisol and took away his dopamine and now he can’t work. Because of you. Two days later, seven days later his brain chemistry is still off. All because you got upset because he told another woman he loved her. He told you not to look through his stuff!
You tell him your love language is words and ask if he could say something nice to you sometime. You wait. You try phrasing it in a different way, making sure not to apply any pressure. Instead he asks her what her love language is. He tells her how pretty she is. Mesmerizing.
But he tells you it is just a game. In reality he thinks she has a pedosmile. She reminds him of his mother. You don’t know what to think.
You always felt his mother had a desire to interfere in your marriage even though she is dead. But this is probably too far out to blog about. No one will understand. Back before you became a psychopath he might have listened to you when you said something like that. Maybe. Bur you have learned not to bring those things up. You are a liar. A gaslighter.
And all you wish is that he would come back and that you could be good again and he could love you. And you could help him with whatever he is dealing with. And he could treat you with respect and affection. Because you have the house. The two dogs. The possessions you are now selling off to pay the electricity bill. It was all part of a dream of love and security. But writing this will make him look bad. Maybe you are a fucking psychopath.
You warned him about this three years ago. That he would start projecting dark things onto you. That he would be attracted to dark women who represented the worst parts of him. That he could go to jail. You had a dream about it. But his perspective is different. You aren’t the one who tried to warn him. You are the one who made it all happen. You are pure hatred.
And all I wish is that James would come back. There is just this feeling in my chest & I want him to hold me even though he never really does that anymore. I don’t know what I did wrong.
One thing I think about a lot is how to combat various influences in your life.
Some transits, for example, will bring in a lot of dark energy. Others aggressive red energy. Others uplifting delusions that lead to your doom. What is the best way of handling this?
In theory, you could harness this energy for a successful outcome. Use the red energy to become a fireman. The dark energy to become a detective. But what about when the energy is coming from outside sources…. someone is screaming at you, someone is trying to murder you? Will becoming a fireman really help?
Let’s say for example, you are having a Mars transit causing clash and conflict in relationships. In my experience, if you try to become more assertive at this time it will blow up in your face. You are cranking up the heat on a situation that is already too hot.
Same as trying to become more spiritual under a Neptune influence. You are already too deluded. If you try to become more spiritual you just end up in white robes with a dick in your mouth. You could even go insane.
I’ve experienced this a lot with dark Pluto transits. I’ll tell myself maybe Pluto is fucking with me because I’m not black enough. This line of thought stems from when I lived in New England. They really hated fire there and yet their houses were always burning down. So I assumed fire was getting revenge on them for not embracing it. But maybe I was wrong & the houses were just burning due to being hundreds of years old or people needing insurance money.
But regardless, this led me to try adding black energy when Pluto got too scary in the hopes this would pacify him. Which always led to disaster. Violence, injuries, being scapegoated & generally ass raped which is Pluto’s signature move. Things got scarier. No matter how much I liked the idea in theory it didn’t work in practice.
Applying opposite energies seems to work better. You can cut down on anger & aggression during Mars transits if you stick to colors like blue and green, while avoiding red hots at all costs. But sometimes this gives me a little bit of FOMO. Sure, I am dodging a bullet but am I also missing a once in a lifetime chance to become a fireman?
I don’t know. Some people think air conditioning is an appropriate response to hot & humid summers while others think it is better to eat chile peppers & bake in the sun to acclimate yourself. Who is right & who is wrong? I worry about this every day.
But one thing is sure. In a crisis, when suffering from heat stroke, AC, shade & water are better than building a bonfire. At least until the immediate threat passes.
So perhaps when assaulted by darkness it is better to go to church & become a saint rather than buy a cauldron.
I’m not sure. I am currently being assaulted by darkness so I will try the “Become a Saint” approach & let you know how it goes. If you don’t hear from me again, you will know it didn’t go well.
(This post was written March 1st 2023 but lost due to server problems then recovered thanks to way back machine.)
I don’t know what to do. I am so stressed out. I am trapped in a crevice with nowhere to go and I can’t endure the crevice any longer. I can’t talk about the crevice either because there is an upcoming trial in which I am a witness. I could write in my journal or talk to the nice shrink the government gave me but at the end of the day telling her my thoughts and feelings doesn’t change anything. I already know what I think and feel. I just don’t know what to do or how to endure. I don’t see any practical solutions. And I’m too anxious to pray cause when you are anxious and try to send out your thoughts they just spiral back down onto you. And to be real about it, it was my faith in God that got me into this trouble in the first place. So I don’t know what to do. If I stay in my current position, I will lose my mind. Imagine if every time you spoke the people around you started shrieking like chickens then swirled around in circles collapsing on the floor where they shook and screamed “Why did you do this to me? Why did you do this to me?” over and over. And you don’t know what you’ve done. How long can a person live like that and not go insane? I feel like I’m trapped in the Queen of Heart’s court in Wonderland. And I can’t even talk about it. Except vaguely like this.
No matter what I do I am always bad. There is always very complicated reasoning as to why I have done something wrong. So you just start recessing more and more. But no matter how recessed you become it doesn’t matter. Now your whispers count as screams and one wrong word makes you a murderer. So you try harder. You try different things. But every step you take is just one more crime you’re guilty of.
Somehow I ended up at a Wikipedia page about psychological manipulation and it had a list of traits that the recipients of manipulation generally share. It was like reading an exact description of my personality.
Naïveté or immaturity
People who find it too hard to accept the idea that some people are cunning, devious and ruthless or are “in denial” if they are being taken advantage of.[17]
Over-agreeableness
People who are too willing to give another the benefit of the doubt and see their side of things.[17]
Low self-esteem
People who struggle with self-doubting, lacking in confidence and assertiveness, and who are likely to go on the defensive too easily.[17]
Over-intellectualization
People who try too hard to understand and believe others have some understandable reason to be manipulative.[17]
Emotional dependency
People who have a submissive or dependent personality. The more emotionally dependent a person is, the more vulnerable they are to being exploited and manipulated.[17]
I’ve always had the hardest time accepting that someone could truly be lying or acting in a devious manner. I don’t know why. And if I am close to people I tend to believe anything they say without question. Even if I know for an absolute fact that it is untrue, something in me still believes. I’ve always struggled to have confidence in my own perceptions, instead I let other’s words override them. I will bend my mind into a pretzel trying to make sense of what people say, no matter how self-contradictory or flying in the face of reality their words may be, and I have always been emotionally & physically dependent on others to a humiliating degree.
So I guess this is a chance for me to learn how to trust in my own perceptions. Do I believe the person who says I am hurting them when I’m pretty sure I’m not or who says I am screaming when I’m pretty sure my voice is room temperature? Objectively I know what is true, I just don’t know how to have faith in my own mind. My faith automatically goes to believing what I am told. Unless you have this problem yourself, I fear it won’t make much sense.
Another big problem is my need to be good, which is used like a cattle prod to control me and force me into situations of increasing powerlessness. If you assert yourself, you are bad. You can get screamed at, but if you scream back you are bad. You must treat other people’s emotions like Golden Kings to be worshiped while ignoring your own or you are bad. You must swallow the words you are fed no matter how little sense they make or you are bad. You must accept that you are bad or you are bad. You must accept that other people weren’t hurting you, you were hurting them, or you are bad. You must believe what you are told or you are bad. Because if you don’t accept the words that are thrown at you you will see those around you crumple on the floor shrieking “LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!!!! LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!!!” Now you can see how bad you are with your own eyes.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to hold my mind together. When it gets bad I can hardly sing, clean or function at all. I can rarely think or plan. The thing that helps is complete detachment. But once again, this triggers my issues with being”bad” because it is bad not to care. You are supposed to care about other people.
And I WANT to care. It’s just that it becomes the rope that is used to strangle me.
* I just realized that titling this help sounds bad, like I am playing the victim. Anyway, don’t worry I will think of something.
** I was just walking and panicking cause my arms have started to shake probably due to nerves because I don’t see any light at the end of the tunnel…. it feels like the road leads off a cliff. And having the shakes is making it harder to perform basic tasks causing me to panic even more. Anyway, just when I was about to break down I saw this on the corner of a sidewalk.
It felt like a sign, because I see teddy bears as being one form that angels take. It’s like no matter how alone you feel there are always more beings watching and ready to help you than you could ever realize.
I’ve made great strides with red in recent years, being more willing to express myself, ruffle feathers etc.
Red lets you stick your neck out, take action, fight. Not care what anybody thinks.
Black also deals with conflict and enemies. But the sorts of enemies you can’t fight straight on. Maybe they hide & use deception so you don’t know where to swing. Maybe they dominate you to the point that fighting back would be suicidal. Maybe they have you leveraged, black mailed, so that you must follow their will to protect to ones you care about.
Red is a boxing match where both people get bloody. Black is getting raped when you’re drugged & tied down. There is nothing you can do. You can’t move.
People always say be assertive and stand up for yourself. People are so naive. In situations where standing up for oneself is an option, most people will take it. But people usually won’t victimize you until they have you in a situation where fighting back will be difficult or even impossible. They attack when they are fully leveraged.
War is red and black. Red is the brawn and black is the brains. Force + deception.
Men overpower women because they have more red. You can’t fight a man. But they have more black as well. Their brains instinctively think in a strategic fashion, calculating how their moves position them power-wise in relation to their opponents. Women tend to assume others are on the same page as them until shown otherwise.
Black knows we are not all one. We don’t share the same will. Others are not who they appear to be. They may be indifferent to harming us or they may get off on it. To be safe you must always keep a touch of black in your pocket- one independent wit that reminds you to never trust completely.
This is hard for me. Maybe for all women. I’ve always wanted to merge with someone to feel safe and loved. And when I feel threatened I focus on trusting more, following more closely the will of whomever I feel threatened by in the hopes of appeasing them. I try to be nicer in the hopes of winning their love. I appeal to their sympathy. It never works. When people are in black mode empathy has turned off. Being nice does not keep you safe. The most gentle animals get eaten first. Survival is selfish. It goes after the easiest target.
Black is boundaries. But what are boundaries? Too often we think of boundaries as ‘standing up for yourself.’ “Hey Lion! Don’t eat me! I’m NOT okay with that.” But unless we have a machine gun these ‘boundaries’ are pretty pointless. People are not going to obey our will just because we verbalize it. They obey their own.
Boundaries are really a state of awareness in which you can separate your own will from the wills of those around you. You know your own mind & do not project the contents of your mind onto others. You attempt to see them as they truly are.
When you project positive or negative glamours onto others you blur the distinction between you & them. Imagination & reality. This is a no boundary state. Boundaries mean seeing yourself & others as the two distinct- and possible opposed- entities that you truly are.
Without this clear psychic separation, you end up carrying out the wills of others without realizing it. You are unable to act in your own best interests. But when there is a willingness to see the truth of yourself and the truth of others, thinking automatically becomes more strategic because it starts to line up with reality. Not sentiments.
With black, you know your aim and you know your opponent. You know when telling the truth is useful and when deceit is the only option. Unlike red, you do not try to win every battle. You know some battles must be lost to win the war. You wait. You bend over. You take it up the ass. You say you like it. You wait some more. And when your moment of opportunity comes you are ready.
Patton wearing his favorite “Trust Me” tshirt. You can trust him. Would he lie to you?
