An accursed, engraved porcelain doll.

Tonight we tried a lesson on clearing up emotional blockages.  First they have you open all Chakra without using the word (smart) and then asks questions about the past.

Because we are a walking subconscious from 0-7 and most of our coding is done before age twelve.

I remembered a situation when I asked why I do not feel like I have deserved things, why powerless comes in at times and I remembered vividly.

I asked my mother after she wasted a thousand dollars on heinously ugly poorly colored tattoos, If she was going to pay her bills and she went off on me.  Telling me I did not deserve a nightgown she purchased for me and some dressier shoes.

It hurt my stomach and my hips tremendously going into those places of pain and imagining them being washed clean by a red light.  I don’t care for white.  Red feels like fire and fire purifies and cleanses.

Since that incident I had mysteriously wrestled tremendous guilt whenever I was blessed with an immediate need to give back and to balance by giving to family.  I had more than enough money and that aforementioned house in florida, I was constantly being given free stuff, trips, anything my heart desired by the Universe.

Obsessed with the thought of evening out the score, a sort of self imposed communism whereby I would give gifts and do all I could to help my siblings.  Both are undeserving, manipulative, twofaced and quite disappointing, I found out.  I gave one 300.00 dollars a month for 1.5-2 years then after stopping paid his special friend 200 a month to clean my house while she lived on my property.

I can be too generous.

Now I understand where it came from and how to be rid of it. A survivors guilt.  A murderously raging harridan from hell proclaiming over me that I was unworthy.  I did not cry, I did not get angry,  I simply swallowed everything and let it rot into my bones unaware.

What we do not purge and conquer.  Conquers our bodies and minds.

I am learning about Chakras as the Universe is telling me to look into them and I see that Sacral- tied to pleasure, joy, mindfulness, creativity and play is stifled.

I need to play more.  I felt trapped as a child and gave myself over to hopelessness and powerlessness after my mother discovered my grand syllabus to run away.

Seventy-two miles to my grandmothers, I had food and extra warm clothing packed, my route marked and my brother tattled before I got two miles.  He was always afraid of his own shadow.

I was eight and getting punished did not matter but feeling trapped and hopeless briefly blew my candle out and my tummy swelled.  I rebelled shortly after and got my power back.

I could never stay hopeless for long,  Not when my autonomy was the most important thing in the world to me and I wanted out now.  I was trying to figure out how to emancipate myself before I understood the definition.

I was planning to buy a house and car and ways to make money before I entered first grade.  My grandmother had her own business and I spent my days there being left tributes by her clients like a small princess.

I am sure that has something to do with me thinking I could own the world instead of wanting to belong to Disney.  My dream was to live out “Don’t tell mom the babysitters dead.” I would be hired somewhere, show my talents with bossiness and reading and then be able to rescue my brother.

Every single time in my life, I let someone else overpower me I would shortly after bloat up like a blood stuffed tick.  My face and belly.  The rest would remain slender.  Then when I fought like Hell and took my RAWR back forcefully.

I would thin out and go back to being a wild lion child who climbed trees and snarled, clawed, punched and insulted men twice her size who tried to beat her.

After my father in law cornered me in a nightgown during a freezing Norwegian winter and told me I was a “goodtime girl men should not marry”  It kind of broke my fucking mind in 2015.

I had been this fiery, self loving, nurturing and very compassionate person who constantly used her time to heal, set people free of blocks and to give visions, instructions to random strangers and career counsel often in the middle of a diner I am eating.

I was confident and in control, at almost all times and I told myself I always was and nothing would break me,  I never let it until then.

Those words cut deep from a lifetime of being accused of being a succubus, manipulative, a wretch, I have been called Lilith, Hecate, Whore of Babylon and more and not just from Dracul.  Guys putting hands on me and blaming me for how I look.  I ignored it.

But that freezing cold moment, having my “friend and husband” lock himself in the basement just to escape me when I had laid out his clothes that morning and did everything for him except chew his food up and spit it in his mouth like a baby bird.

He begged me just before I left to forgive him and wait until he came.  Knowing I obsessively keep my word and might go years without closure because I am obsessed with “why”  It was a cruel narc game.

It might have broke me but it also softened me and I came out of it capable of love and receiving love for once in my life.  So its a horror story with the happiest of endings.

I became a ghost.  Lived at my sisters, doing dishes after midnight.  I wore the same outfit for months, laundering it every two days.  I was a shell of the lion I had been my whole life come any trauma.

I was taken advantage of and my credit card numbers stolen, her husband quit his job expecting me to buy all the groceries and live off the “rich bitch sister in law”

I had been kind and generous with my siblings my whole life only to find out they secretly hated me, used me for my money and free rent in a vacation rental worthy home and were always looking for the next best thing.

This pattern continued as I struggled to work through the emotions, the trauma, the coding and any residual however I remained a monk.  Determined not to need or want anything or to get close to anyone.

Jalen changed that for me.  She told me she had a vision of a beautiful engraved porcelain woman who looked like Harlow/Monroe on her knees scrubbing the floors of this mansion she lived in alone, mistreated, despised but very wealthy despite the Cinderella look and act.   People had carved curses from their words and intentions into her, that she was lost very scared and not herself.




That she was to befriend this woman who and then one day she would meet her and they would work together on their dreams.  It took many months when she saw a photo of me platinum blonde that it clicked I was her doll.


I could barely speak for a season at all.


Until I followed my intuition to the west and settled down in the mountain land to find myself and how to have joy in every possible way.

I started to smile and laugh again after befriending a loner mountain man.  His empathic influence has taught me so much about emotions, life, pragmatic needs, construction and anything else I could possibly want to learn or debate him over.  I found all of my past hurts and losses and everything the Universe decided I needed to lose to find myself is worth it.

And now, the Universe loves me enough to say “Hey kid, you need to play every chance you can. So sing, dance, paint and sculpt.  Fight to get that sharp, witty powerful,  in love with herself unapologetic brassy daredevil bitch back fully because I loved her too.”


If I can do it, so can YOU.

Song that started my healing

Because I was really fucking mental.  I spoke in whispers, in lala land only speaking to my spirit guide when I was not doing my work.  I could barely leave the room for an hour without needing to crawl back inside the covers and hide listening to worship music to keep the dark voices in my head from tormenting me and the hopeless despairing emotional hell from swallowing me alive (Hillsong United on play all hours of the day)  of all things,  A miracle given my breakup with all things to do with church.  Taya has a gorgeous voice.

Its really soothing and biurnal beats give me a terrible headache and nasty nightmares.

I was Girl Interrupted crazy for awhile.  I came through it stronger, wiser and sharpened my intuition more than ever.   Just hang in there.  The first key after Narc abuse is to FIND WHO SHE WAS BEFORE


So find your identity.  Ask yourself a million questions as if you are interrogating a new date– or is just me who interrogates like shes got someone in a secret CIA underground bunker with hot lights taking long drags on her imaginary cigarette and accidentally slipping into a russian accent?









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