So earlier when I contemplated whether this is as good as it gets…I just went numb with the thought that it is. I was driving while having this talk with myself and my numbness forced everything around me to disappear. I only saw what was in front of me and I lost my ability to perceive my environment. There was a certain level of ‘manufactured’ peace in that space, but it came at the expense of feeling like I wasn’t a part of this world. I haven’t decided whether this is a good or bad thing. But this version of peace will get me through tonight, so I’m not in a rush to figure that out.

With that chuckle, I unknowingly revealed two things about myself. That I was jealous…and that I was a passive aggressive follower. I allowed my jealousy to have me participate in an attempt to lower another woman’s self-esteem. Because my self-esteem was taking a hit by the fact that my boyfriend seemed to like this girl more than me. I was bothered. And I displayed it passively because this is what mean girls do.

And in this moment, I see another theory for the silence of all the single mothers in the chat. They see no issue with us taking on this responsibility for our sibling, because most accountability avoidant black parents truly believe it’s ok…to have one of their childless children…assume responsibilities that belong to parents. With no benefit being received by anyone…but the parents.This mentally unstable belief is considered normal in our community. And they wonder why so many of their adult kids are okay passing their parental responsibilities off onto someone else (grandparents, government, siblings, etc). It’s a cycle they birthed within the confines of their own broken homes.

Trusting God has always come easy to me…in the times that I didn’t really need to trust Him. But during the times where I need to fully rely on Him…I usually start out like a squirrel who has just realized it is trapped in an enclosed space. My thoughts suggest I’m more panicked than trusting. And the distrustful part of my heart, that I think I’m hiding those thoughts in, is fully visible to My Father. So instead of showing up as a hypocrite to Him during another moon cycle…I’m going to trust that He has the final say in this situation. That belief is true whether I believe it or not. But believing it makes my life a lot easier.

The triggers leading up to my meltdown is what I consider ‘spell work’. Because these familial spirits set up trauma traps that have the ability to alter a person’s perception. When called out, they gaslight (cast illusions) which leads one to believe what they’re seeing is only in their mind (magic). And this can lead to an insane amount of stress. If consistently done, over time, this stress can lead to mental illness, cancer, heart attacks, ‘sudden’ death, etc…if a person doesn’t know how to transmute the energy. I think this is what happened to my biological father, but no one from that side of the family will tell us how he died.

If I was given the privilege of having my own ‘mother’ acknowledge me, I would ask her what the purpose of birthing a child was, if she was just going to abandon the emotional responsibilities that come with the job title. That abandonment made me feel like it was my job to pacify her ego, by reinforcing the fact that she did the “best she could”. But if the “best you could” caused emotional trauma, in the kids you mandated into this existence…you failed at a job you chose.

And in my opinion…his diagnosis of colon cancer was a direct result of his refusal to let go of that trauma. I say this because the colon is what transmutes the things we ingest into our bodies. It absorbs what is needed and creates the avenue for removal of what serves no purpose. Spiritually speaking…my BD ingested emotional abuse from his father, that he never transmuted. He wasn’t taught how to alchemize his negative emotions in a positive way. So he coped by engaging in behavior that only made his diagnosis worse. His energy became infected by his inability to create a channel for emotional release. And his body followed his mind.

The acceptance is when the thoughts still come through, but I remain present enough to accept them for what they are. While intentionally redirecting my mind to focus on what serves my mental state the most. A thought that keeps coming up when I spot an intrusive one is: “It’ll be here when you finish”. That’s my way of reminding myself that I’ll still be able to engage thoughts trying to get my attention…but it’ll just have to be done in a way that encourages me to set boundaries with myself.

Because it spoke to the socially acceptable ‘separationist’ behavior, I see being displayed all throughout social media. This accountability imbalance is contributing to these young men begging to be with anyone who does not remind them of their mothers/sisters. For a while, black women were escaping our punishments for refusing to be held accountable…until our men started preferring other races/cultures. And now…the great divide has deepened…with the increase of ‘relationship advice’ podcasts. Advice that’s being championed by ‘the blind and the bitter’. So everyone is losing.

But instead of “electrifying” their pupils…their ego “pacifies” them, while craving to be seen as a ‘god’ in a field that isn’t their ministry. That oversight can lead one to ‘sacrifice’ their morals, in order to achieve what they want for themselves. As opposed to achieving what God wants for them. This behavior only leads to mental unrest, at a time when your hard work suggests you should be moving forward with peace of mind. I don’t want that to be my story. So I’m continuing on my journey towards the intentional death of my ego. I’m not bigger than God’s purpose for my life and I pray my actions never suggest to God that I think I am.

If I have lost anyone with this post…please remind yourself that I’m ‘bipolar’ and go about your business…after energetically sending me your sarcastic sympathy for my wayward thought process. At this point, I’m less concerned with how I’ll be viewed and more inquisitive about who I am. Because weird things like this keep happening. And I can’t imagine that this amount of energetic effort would be wasted on just anybody. My twin telling me “I’ll never be the chosen one” has been playing in my head all day and now I really want to know who tf am I?

I realize this subject is sensitive because it’s taboo for an African…American person to openly speak on ideologies of non-inclusion. Because we’ve been conditioned to believe that welcoming outsiders with open arms comes naturally to us. But those open arms often embrace individuals who have hidden agendas. This isn’t a one size fits all post, because some culture vultures have good intentions. And this isn’t just directed to the non-pigmented because…culture vultures come melanated too. This is directed to all non-African…Americans.

Years later, when I got more into spirituality, I learned that spells like that are actually a thing. But what I never understood was how my twin seemed to know so much about spell work…at a time when I felt my life wouldn’t stop falling apart. A couple years ago, I brought up the ‘freezer spell’ incident in one of the chats; but my twin suggested this was another one of my ‘delusions’. Everything has always been “in my mind”, even after God exposed her hand when our father died. She still explains that away as an ‘omen’…even with all the details I gave. That situation allowed me to be more comfortable calling a thing a thing, without getting confused by the art of her gaslighting. Which is what I did today.

“Once again, I feel like a ‘lick’ who has been ‘child trapped’ by a family full of bitters. Their expectations of me, in regards to my sister’s child, makes me feel like they’re trying to make up for the fact that I outsmarted my first two ‘trap artists’.”

That left me with a question I still haven’t been able to answer…”Am I really bipolar?” Because if I am, the reactions I’ve had to my reality makes a lot more sense…and I’m considering reworking the angle that I write this blog from. All this time, I’ve been fighting this uphill battle…in an effort to prove to those around me, and to those reading, that I’m not who they say I am. So much so that I go out of my way to carry the weight of others, in hopes of proving it doesn’t matter how much is put on my plate; because I’ll still be able to compartmentalize and handle it accordingly. But.I.Am.Tired.

I found an old diary of mine from 2011 and decided to start reading it. This is one of 2 diaries that I still have in my possession. And when I read them, I always wish I had the ones from my childhood. Because I was always so detailed with my thoughts. I‘ve wondered if the loss of the diaries, from my younger years, was intentional on my BMs part…because I’d still have them if it wasn’t for her. I remember little to nothing from before the age of 12 and I feel like those memories would’ve helped me remember what I feel she wanted me to forget.

“I fully realize I’ll probably look bat sh*t crazy to whoever reads those panic attack emails…and to whoever reads this post. And to that I can’t really say much. Because I’m aware enough to know that all of this sounds delusional to people who don’t have these experiences.”

Kendrick was born with a purpose that many people will never have the misfortune of feeling the weight of. He’s part of a collective responsible for leading a shift in consciousness. In order to be ‘chosen’ for this type of work…you have to spend years learning, through pain, how to master yourself against the tactics of your opponents. In order to guide the younger generations through experiences they haven’t experienced yet. After hearing his diss(ertation)…I can humbly say Mr. Lamar just graduated another spiritual assignment…with the honor of God.

During the never ending services, my ‘mother’ prayed her long winded prayers…paid the fee for attendance…and then we’d leave and go about our everyday lives. Outside of the weekly church dates, God was never discussed…at all. It’s like He was restricted to the pew and altar area…only to be called on when monetary gains were needed. And those discussions seemed to only be allowed to take place in a building…that warranted a constant request for funding ‘donations’. So when I left home…I had little desire to go to church, unless I needed to say my ‘gimme that’ prayer.

My experience is the suicide origin story, that a lot of people eventually succumb to. When you’re surrounded by ‘family’ who scapegoat you..after so many years it’s easy to believe that deletion is the only option for relief. Because if your own family is able to abuse you…then disregard you so easily…what hope do you stand with anyone else? But the space on Earth I now choose to intentionally take up, is proof that the last laugh can go to the one everyone laughed at. If we learn how to control our emotions…alternate our perspective and delete the ability of those around us from continuing to project their mental imbalance onto us.