Good Decisions Can Still Hurt

Today, I am feeling great sadness as I reflect and do some personal journal writing. Human rejection began in my life at just three years of age. I was ripped from my father and rejected by my own mother who literally handed me over to horrific abusers.

Understand that from ages 3-7 years old, I was not ALLOWED to even speak to my mother. Just sit quiet for a moment and imagine this life. Imagine my brother and sister who were made to do the same. Imagine seeing your mother across a dining hall and not being allowed to speak to her, touch her, be held, loved or even acknowledged. Imagine every day being filled only with being beaten and labored. Zero love. No kisses. Not allowed to laugh.

If you cannot image it, READ MY BOOK.

I was rejected by the people around me as I grew up, forced to sit in silence and disallowed any identity development. As a young adult I became abused and rejected by men. My family has rejected me. They find me weird. They are uncomfortable with my advocacy work and won’t tell me why. I am flawed and the weird white lady unworthy of being in their presence. I don’t say the right things. I don’t believe the right way. I’m this. I’m that. I’m never enough no matter what. I should never have an opinion and if I do, it shouldn’t be different than theirs or I’m a bad person.

I’m exhausted of living this type of life.

If I choose to be silent, comply and never have my own voice, allow myself to be the target for blame, then I might be allowed back around my family. Welcome to my childhood, being treated like a piece of dirt, a beast, a thing, an irrelevant child only worthy of abuse, having every action and behavior analyzed and turned on me.

I believe the only way to break this pattern of being in the target position of shunning and blame, is to disconnect from anyone who believes it to be ok to treat me this way. Anyone who thinks shunning a human, who is a decent person deserving of love, is an okay practice, is not in a positive place in life.

Anyone who wants to put me in a position of having to fold myself inward and become invisible in order to be accepted does not have my well being in mind at all and hasn’t taken the time to understand how abusive this behavior is. I will always be walking on eggshells around them, waiting to be accused again without any care to understand me.

Anyone who doesn’t care about the grave damage that shunning a person and dissecting families does to the spirit is not emotionally safe. I cannot allow myself to be attached to these energies anymore.

So, today I have made the heart breaking decision to do just that; not allow anyone back into my life who has enacted shunning or dissection on me. In order to continue healing my own deep wounding and keep growing as an individual, I have to continue building some very high boundaries. This decision comes with the knowing that it is alright to put my well being first.

Self love does not make us selfish.

I spent 2020 grieving extreme pain on many levels. I will not spend any more days of my life in pain. I am exhausted of it. I am officially moving on to new ventures intended to let me experience this life being surrounded by those who don’t have the intention of using me, targeting me or beating me down. I have to stay connected to individuals who are safe for my emotional well being.

I’m done with ever being belittled, abused or treated indifferently ever again. I share this for those who experience the same and understand how messy the practice of shunning is.

I’m traveling The Feeling Wheel.

Healing Yourself Heals the World

I used to harbor a lot of hate toward my mother. Let me tell you something. Hate only hurts yourself and others. It is not a shield. It comes with no solutions. It is fueled by anger and should only be felt righteously; such as HATING child rapists.

In my mind the only perspective I had was that my mother took us to a cult torture compound, then abandoned us to be raped and beaten. As I matured and studied mind control and NLP (neurolinguistic programming) I discovered that my mother was grossly victimized by a very wicked cult recruiter and some very wicked accomplices who had their clutches in my mother before I was even born. By the time we arrived at the first cult compound, my mother’s mind was already taken by the cultists.

They starved her and sleep deprived her within the first 48 hours of our arrival. If you aren’t informed on how fast deprivation of any kind dissects the mind, stay up from Friday morning to Monday morning, don’t eat or sleep, and see how well you perform at your job on that Monday.

Taking the time to study and learn how and why my mother was so easily preyed upon, took away my hate and re-directed it to the proper place; the people who enacted the brainwashing on her, who stole her children from her under the guise of evangelical doctrine and went on to continue abusing and trafficking our family across state lines, enslaving, laboring and physically brutalizing us for over a decade, as they committed gross human rights violations for years and years, and still do to this day while no one does anything.

I am glad I came to this understanding before my mother’s death. There are questions I wish I had asked her, but she was dying so we didn’t want to add undue stress. My voice woke her up from a coma in a Texas hospital, because I was singing to her and begging for her to wake up. The nurse said a tear rolled down her cheek, and then she woke up and my sister was called to come back immediately. We thought at that time it was the end. It wasn’t. She fought to live a little longer.

I flew back to Texas and sat with her in the hospital, shaved her little chin hairs that grew out, because she was embarrassed, fixed her hair and read magazines to her since she had gone blind from severe glaucoma. I stayed a whole day and night in the hospital with her on that visit. That was the last time I saw my mother alive.

I then returned home to Reno, NV where I was working for a transportation company. It was at work I got the call from my sister that my mother had expired in the hospital after passing out and smashing her nose, which caused a blood clot to explode her heart.

I lost a lot of precious personal emotions hating my mother merely because I was wrapped up in myself and refused to take the time to explore and understand my childhood. I wasted a lot of years I could have been healing and getting more answers.

I urge anyone who has these parental issues to really do the work to travel into yourself and figure out how to heal these wounds. There are answers for you. Only you can choose to accept them; to be a better person; to behave better; to accept some hardcore truths and allow them to let you grow.

My mother was abusive, yes. She backhanded me and caused more busted lips than I can count. She gaslighted and tormented our minds even after the cult. She called me a witch because I am not a Christian and wouldn’t bow down to her belief system. She purposely called me with Bible verses trying to mind fuck me back to her religion and way of thinking. Now, I use one of those phone calls to give me strength.

She called me and said, “I was in the word (Bible) today and I really had a verse weigh on my heart to tell you.”

Picture me rolling my eyes on the other end, like what the fuck!

“No weapon formed against you shall prosper… Isaiah 54:17.” She read to me.

That’s all I recall of that one whole phone call because I often tuned her out, busied myself with other things to ignore her, filled with hate, but tolerating her on behalf of my sons who I felt deserved to have a relationship with their grandmother. She was a decent grandma. My sons love her. I’m grateful they got to have the best of her that she could muster up.

I still hear the echo of her voice telling me that. Even though I am not religious, I get what she was trying to tell me; that I am strong and will never be defeated as long as I remember that.

This is why I stand my ground now and refuse to let my mind be swayed by anyone. I research for myself, the subjects I want to understand, and I study ALL sides. I do not allow myself to have blinders to believe and see only one perspective. Every single issue we deal with in life comes with the potential of having many sides and perspectives. Maybe they all have validity. Maybe we all could stand to learn how to be expansive in our observatory views.

I had to go into my generational trauma and trace decades backward on my mother and father’s lineage, which led to the pain of my Cherokee heritage and the heritage of Irish people fleeing from England’s persecution of them, settling in Ohio within the Cherokee Nation, who welcomed them with open, loving and peaceful arms. That’s where I get my green eyes. They would later be enslaved by impoverished human labor and the Cherokee people killed off in a slow genocidal torture.

My ancestors were stripped of everything, abused, and were poor farmers who were dis acknowledged by the society around them, especially my grandmother on my mom’s side who “looked too Indian” for white people. She was born in the early 1900’s, long before integration happened in America. This is my lineage.

Generational trauma is passed down through in vitro DNA. Science has proven this. We must individually do the work to heal our own DNA so that we stop passing it on to our children and behaving badly in front of them. Kids aren’t stupid. They see far deeper than adults give them credit for.

These are things I wish I’d taken the time to pay attention to when I was younger, yet I accept that I had no access or social knowledge of such things. I was cult programmed to be terrified of therapists, who would “take my mind.” Ironic, isn’t it, to be mind controlled that those who could help me are mind controllers.

This planet will heal, when each individual chooses to go softly into their deep wounds and do the work to heal that personal wounding.

May love guide and light shine a path on truth for you. Do the work. It is worth it. It opens your eyes and lets you recognize lies. Healing brings mental clarity and higher intuition as we come into connection with our own soul. Walk the talk, friends. Do the work. It’s painful as hell, but well worth it. 💫💫💫💫

𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒 𝒦𝑜𝒸𝓈𝒾𝓈

This photo is post-cult. Martin, TN. 1986. I am on the left at 16 looking like my eyes got slapped by a rainbow, (I was finally allowed at 16 to wear makeup), my mom in the middle and my older sister on the far end in the white shirt.

We loved the best we knew how, and it was dysfunctional as heck, yes. I grew up, continued to choose dysfunctional relationships which caused much suffering to me and those related to me, until I made a choice to heal MYSELF and understand that healing individually is the only way humanity will end their suffering. 💫💫💫💫💫💫💫