(when I checked this once posted, I realized a big chunk of the writing at the start was gone. I went to my dashboard and looked through drafts, it is nowhere to be found, and I can't remember what I wrote in the heat of the moment, as usual, since this is totally spontaneous and unedited, so this is left as it)
I took, didn't want for things to change. I have defended my offenders. I hid my abusers. I was quite and docile. I forged my personality with my pertretors. I created order out of their chaos. I dismorphed my figure. I hid the abuse in the folds of my fat. In my bones, I kept the anger from daring to come to any surface. I curved my spine, I twisted my shoulders. My grey hairs aren't even spreading, keeping appearances game is on point. Beneath the surface though, it's a different story. My pubes have gone all grey already. But I kept my graceful smile. And I kept my labouring. Even after all that has happened, and I was left with nothing at all, they still required me to labor. I did it. But then God roared. He has been saying enough for quite a few years, I just couldn't know for sure. I just couldn't be certain. As usual, doubting the very loving voice within, for the sake of validating the hating voice without. This is how deep the abuse have been.
When I was faced with apathy few days ago with one so called family member, I was shocked. These still shock me? Yes, every new relevation does. Any new unexpected person being exposed does disturb the little threads of peace I'm barely managing to put together. When another so called family member silenced me later in the day, I was shocked. Yes again. I would go on instantly validating their views usually, and attending to their needs, attuning to their wishes, speaking up but really only just wanting to make an agreement.
Anything but disagreement, anything but conflict, anything but confrontation, pretty please!
This, my friends, is how badly I have been abused. I did not know, I still don't know. So God is roaring in the faintest voice, in a whisper, and it's flipping the whole existence upside down.
On the afternoon of that day, which was Sunday, my wallowing day, I went quiet. Totally quiet. I couldn't wallow, I couldn't write, but I contemplated, and let things be. By nighttime, I was sobbing uncontrollably. What happened between the afternoon and the night, is realising that my body felt totally frozen. It is the same taste under my tongue, that one since I was a child, the aggression and cold apathy when thrown at me, it feels as though huge body sized blocks of thick and heavy ice. It rests on my chest suffocating me, it blocks my moves, it turns and twists with its sharps edges scratching my skin, pruding into my flesh. I bleed in silence, but even my blood gets frozen. Everything is still, until I feel utterly unalive.
In that utterly dead moment of total freeze in despair, disbelief, disarming, one single thought come along and warmed my heart and made me feel alive, the thought of someone the exact opposite of all those people, with untamed fire, so passionate, so wild, so raw and real, and me wanting that persob to squeeze me, and the hell out of that giant block of ice on me, to melt it away and rid me of its effect. It was the face of my last boyfriend, my latest narcistic, my last one.
This is how bad the abuse have been.
I cried for hours on end while my body shivered and jolted. God was whispering again, I was responding. There was nothing left to do. It is why when the last man came along with an unmatched fire, I was blinded again, because it fooled me. I come from the family of icy narcissists, they can not love. Physical affection is not a thing to them. And I had been starved!
He comes rushing in with care and attention and presence and physical attention and constant closeness and humour and action and desire and passion and hope and forgiveness and gentleness and consistency, and I am swept off my feet, only just wanting more of of that which I have been starved from my whole entire life, and he has and was and gave in abundance.
But then God roared, ever so gently, to wake up already, and that time was running.
I didn't understand the first time, I removed him unconsciously. Then second time, then third time, on and on it went. I can't even count how many times we broke up and came back together, stronger every time. Me with my attachment, him with his tactics. I would break up with him for sensing something off, but not being able to feel it in the body, for my body not just craved him, it got attuned to him, and eventually, addicted. It was like that love affair I had with the sugar brioche as a tiny little helpless child who felt utterly suffocated with the kind of evil that surrounded me at school, and how that little edible consumable thing became my solace, shield, and heaven, even if I had to suffer to attain it, or after consuming it.
When away from him I felt the aching pains of crying on the top of lungs as few months old baby left in the hospital with total strangers because my mother needed to offload me. When with him, I was learning about how tenderness feels as a safe baby inside it's mother's world. When with him, my pains and memories of abandonment and alienation were being replaced with all that was normal and I had never experienced before...
I learned how it could've been to be someone's partner when the intention was unity, not division, inclusivity not alienation, harmony not splitting.
I learned how it would have felt for my love to my mother to be reciprocated. I learned how it would have felt for any of my husbands to be protective. I learned how it ought to have felt for m daughter to have loved me, or at least, reciprocated my own love.
My last narcistic showed me how it feels to be loved, and just how deprived I had been. "Show" is a good word because it was all an act, but it mattered little when compared with how deeply unconscious I have been, and how conscious this relationship has made me.
This is how bad the abuse have been.
In the aftermath of it all, now, there is no separation from God and the reality. You either are in it, or inside your own reality. The devil, and the spirits, with the cooperation of ego, have sure made and excellent job keeping us inside our bubbles of distorted reality, anything to escape and see through the reality. I liked it there, I got so accustomed to the abuse it felt like home. So much so that my latest guy turned out to be the most lowest person I have ever encountered, the most abusive, with the lowest standards, devoid of values, highly and skillfully manipulative, utterly opportunistic, a total sociopath, yet, I would want to be with him, constantly and regularly, because the numbing effect he had on me was the brief breaks I would take from the excruciating pains of a lifetime of abuse and neglect.
But then, I awakened. It was spiritual, all this existence is, but also physical. He assaulted and beat me hard on our very last encounter. There was no way this contradiction wasn't going to shake me off, on several different levels. It did.
So my dear friends, trauma on all children turning adults doesn't always turn them into ice like it did with my own family, sometimes it turns them into melting hot fire. I did not know. I haven't encountered a lot of people or seen different patterns throughout my life. I was forever naiive although turning from maiden to mother.
On my way to become a crone, it seems to have been enough for me. For God's voice became louder inside of me, and by then, God wasn't just talking to me, he was showing me too.
I came to realize that this indeed is the land of the devil, and that we are indeed in the underworld. All that happens here is meticulously engineered to produce loosh (the lowest frequency energy) for the devil and its ones to feed on. For that to work, there needs to be an ultimate inversion, and so, as a rule of thumb, all of this existence is inverted.
Until, now.
It is as though there has been put a time limit for this existence, whereas it ran freely endlessly before then, or so it felt.
It is a frightening time, don't think for even a split of a second I wanted out of my reality. It was home, and all I knew, I wanted my abusers around me, serving them has became my personality and character, whom I was and what I did.
But!
The Inversion has started to being inverted, gently and slowly over the recent years, but harshly and briskly at this stage.
And so, for the very first time in my life, I am being forced to look straight at the pain, see it for what it is. And I'm gutted. I was totally shielded from it, for I have been running on auto-pilot most of my life.
Now that I see it, I can sure tell you, it's ugly, it's bad, it's disgusting and revolting!
Back to the inverting of the inversion, and what it's doing, and what it means. All those seemingly tame and harmless victims I dedicated my whole life loving and standing up by and defending and dedicating myself for, are coming out as who they truly are; the defenders, the abusers, and help me God, for the scene is extremely hard to look at, and the reality almost impossible to swallow.
But there are no corners left to escape to anymore, there's nothing to hide under anymore. The light is coming through so very brightly, reaching long and wild, nothing to hide under anymore, even for just a little while.
Exposure is the title of this phase.
Try as you might,
Your reality will be shattered, whomever you are, or think that you are.
Brace for the impact,
This
is
Ascension!
