Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts

Friday, 17 January 2025

Moving on & the high value heroine archetype

 14/1/25 

Musings on moving on

healing from relationships the healthy way: part 1 


It's important to acknowledge that relationships can sometimes change when one partner is experiencing personal growth and transformation. This journey of self-discovery may have begun before the relationship started and could be hindered by settling into the dynamics with the other person

i know this sounds condescending. But my last relationship ate away 8 years of my life because I gave a “nice” guy a chance. We were great friends, companions, but our sexual compatibility & chemistry was nil.

 I was the one wearing the pants. I was already on my journey of self-development when I met him. My interest in psychology, self-improvement, and personal growth had been sparked during my mental health and trauma recovery, which peaked in late 2015 when I went on a date with him.

He had been pursuing me for years. 

My first red flag should of  our initial meeting back in 2011. It was platonic, but he visited me while I was very mentally unstable, as an inpatient in an old Catholic psychiatric hospital. This was during a time when my ex-boyfriend, who I had been with since I was 19, was cheating on me. I always remember that we talked for 10 hours. He brought me a gift of my favorite conspiracy magazines, along with a notebook and a fancy pen. At that time, my ex, Alexander, had fallen out of the honeymoon stage and was ignoring me, so I greatly overvalued his gesture due to my idealized perspective.

We texted back and forth, but nothing was consistent. He eventually vanished, ending up with a much older woman who had two children of her own; a a single mother who used him and controlled his phone usage. He disappeared into regional NSW. 

I didn’t find out until much later that this situation contributed to his debt of $50,000 to $70,000, which I helped him get out of (a second red flag).

This was a compromised secret I hid for him because I enjoyed his company initially.

now it emphasizes the importance of my journey toward becoming a high-value woman. 

As we plateaued apart I learnt how to “be single” while he had a whole other relationship in my face.  

The high value woman doesn’t jump into a new relationship without having healed from the wounds of her prior relationship, she doesn’t jump from man to man meaninglessly, she dates with INTENTION. She lives with INTENTION. Everything she does in INTENTIONAL. 

Her femininity is bold, intentional & vibrant. My last relationship had sapped me of traditional gender roles but the one prior to that was a year and a half of a very dominant, traditional masculine man. Who was honest when “he couldn’t be the man he needed me to be” and that was a trait I was so drawn to when we broke up. I then levelled all future breakups to be at that same “level”. I said that to J in the  beginning. He had so many “DOORS OUT”.

That was why his cowardice, passivity & dishonesty annoyed me the most because the guy before was so real & honest about not being able to handle me & we ended amicably and remain friends to this day as a result of civil boundaries. So J fucked me up & wasted years of my life as he was clueless as to what he really wanted .  

so personal growth but also draws in a partner who appreciates self-improvement. I never want to find myself in a situation where I have to guide my partner on who to be or how to act, even if the experience had its moments of intrigue. 

His parents expressed an overwhelming sense of gratitude, often brought to tears, for the role I played in shaping their son into a “real man.”But the toll it had on me, is understated. It’s not a roll id ever want in my life again. It’s exhausting. Psychometric tests for hours, career quizzes. Utilising my counselling skills to test on him as a Guinea pig (yeah it worked). 

Then what did i get ? Nothing. Who do I have to blame for it? Myself. I was hoping he would eventually be man enough to give back something to help me heal.


 But he palmed me off to some 13 years older guy from overseas who neither of us had ever met and then went off with a 10 years younger girl and left me (even as a friend) in the hardest time of my life. He could of been honest and said what the ex before me said because dim woman enough to handle the truth but he wasn’t man enough to be honest.  

That’s when the realization hit me hard;he was just keeping me on the back burner, a safety net for when things didn’t go his way. I was never truly a friend; I was merely an “option.” 

When his 21-year-old girlfriend entered the picture, it was clear he saw a chance for easy control, especially since she had just come out of an abusive relationship. Like a switch flipping, he dropped me without a second thought. I had been foolish, so utterly naive, to believe I meant anything more to him than a fallback plan

.I was discarded the minute he found her. She was more of a genuine friend to me than he had been for years in that last 6-7 months, she always made time for me and listened, I m loved our conversations.

But the day after her first date with him, everything changed between J and j m. 

He suddenly grew irritable about the time I spent with her and seemed increasingly frustrated by my lack of jealousy or resentment; 

which were emotions he was obviously anticipating from me. 

He seethed silently, on the brink of passive aggressive explosive rage, whenever we shared a deep conversation without him, while he worked from home on Friday and she had her days off and visited, lively and engaged asking about the birds, which I adored. He was radiating an intensity of “she’s mine you better not talk about me” that was hard to ignore.

This experience of almost 9 years  was an absolute eye-opener for me. I’ve come to realize that I will never trust, date, or entertain the facade of the “faux nice guy” again that I encountered with my ex. I know I deserve better. 

I felt it before but I know it after. 

I will never train a man how to be “an effective communicator”. 

How can he find his purpose and understand the true will or passion, values, and principles that guide his life? 

The truth is, he already knows what they are. He knows how to communicate like a healthy adult. 

Such a partner is likely to have a solid grasp of effective communication, psychological insights, and self-awareness, making for a more enriching and balanced relationship.

I think this is a pivotal

His routine should already be established and in alignment with yours. 

You don't need to teach him how to eat healthy or exercise, as he already knows how to do that. He is spiritual, he maybe can lead to show you, not the other way

Nine years in total (8 years and 7 months) of shaping a man didn't change the base nature of his “passive” ”submissive”   & “lack of leadership.”. 

Perhaps he could teach me a thing or two by sitting me down in a dignified, polite manner that is neither arrogant nor ego

Nothing is more attractive than an intelligent, skilled man who is humble and keeps his ego in check.. but is confident in what he can do & willing to help you with showing you how to do new things. I love a man who can teach me things. 

If a man is truly skilled he has no need to beat his chest like a primate & run around like a three ringed circus, to lament “who can do it better”. It only conveys a faux arrogance & rancid narcissistic egocentricity that screams “I can’t have anyone not think I’m the best at anything and all attention better go to me or I’ll make your life hell”

The two ends of the red flag avoid spectrum, are faux nice covert narcissists and then the communal, egocentric overt narcissist. 

One is self defeating, but lacking purpose and placid while the other seems to have too much to say & talks the most, the loudest, while is the only one who is the “best, biggest, only, no other can beat” type of guy and anyone who dare cross him *insert immature threat of adolescent type rage despite his age.

Both  types talk a lot but lack action. They know what you want to hear and will tell you those things because they recognize your desire for validation. It is MY responsibility to ensure that I do not rely on these kinds of people by validating yourself and addressing your own soul and psychological wounds. Instead of seeking validation from others, focus on healing the void that you once hoped these types of men would fill for you.They will NEVER do the job you can do for yourself, and you KNOW deep down, those guys, talk shit. I think back to my ex, how much of my own behaviour was just me forging his persona into who I wanted him to be so I could have a human I needed to help me “try and escape my traumatic life”.

Selfish, self serving, maybe. But was I just doing what I was told in therapy? Yes. 

It was a recipe for codependency.

He needed explicit instructions constantly. Which was exhausting. 

Until it wasn’t. 

He was eventually, given, the ultimate, magnum opus, I helped him, find himself. I think this is one of the most selfless things I did for someone. I didn’t mean to; but intimately I loved him enough to want that for him. 

He was then off, flying and spreading his wings and I was happy for him. It’s the saddest heartbreaking moment then, when I look back in retrospect that the moment I had given him that freedom, was the moment he started to express increasing control to me. There was a period where we could say we were happy. 

Momentums of happiness.

It was never a normal relationship. Ever. But we had fun, we were always going onn adventures and having interesting experiences. 

Was he nice. Yeah at first. But I learnt these guys are silent and deadly killers over time. They don't communicate until the last moment and the truth, is specifically spoken in woven daggers crafted from years of a running inner monologue against you. When you are all about open, honest dialogue. 

All you wanted was honesty and all you brought was authenticity and maybe you were too much yourself, so much he was repulsed. That is not a you problem as you warned him     

“It was ok, its fine, I love it, I love you, I accept you, I am with you”. He whispers and whimpers weakly in a tone you barely hear, as he has got the mumbles when you first met him. 

It wasn't until you taught him to speak he learnt how to raise his voice and professionally project it like a man. “She made me the man I am” he said for years until it was “you did nothing for me and I hate you” recently “you steal and took and gave me nothing”. 

While the truth is, you have given him a gift nobody can express. 

One of the rarest. Only to have it denied and rejected and then by June last year I had never given him a thing, all the gifts he returned to me. Literally packed in boxes and given back as though he never wanted them. 

*A slap in the face* not only to deny my spiritual, emotional and psychological gifts but the physical as well? It’s like he was trying to erase my memory from his life altogether. Someone might think I was the one who had the new partner in his face. Or had done the atrocious act in front of him. I had always wracked my brain in deliberation wondering, pleading with him to tell me “what had I done that made him hate me so much?”. But he could never give me a straight answer. He kept giving me the same thing that was his own doing. That wasn’t anything but trauma flooding to a random guy from American he told me to email. I had not ever met this person. 

He found him, told me to email him and this was the betrayal, even though he wanted me so badly to do this act? I was eternally confused by this to the point it often felt like “damned if I do/damned if I don’t”. 

It wasn’t like I was given a choice; but when he had a new partner I was forced to swallow it and did so, happily. 

Thats how I learnt about “high value” women and how to become one, looks maxxxing and started that journey. 

*** 


Tuesday, 14 January 2025

The Cancer New Moon July 7 2024

My near death experience (part one) 

Walking through the fires as an uninitated Canzoo & Priestess


On July 7, I nearly lost my life. I was incredibly close to death. Had I gone to sleep in the room I usually occupied, I might never have seen the light of day again. If I had, I would have wished I had not, as I could have faced severe burns—up to 90% of my body. Instead, I am fortunate to have only sustained 3%.


During the fire, I prioritized saving my birds, which meant sacrificing my own safety. “As the flames grow around your feet…” I tried to extinguish them, and in the process, I burned my hair and injured my finger while trying to save my face. For months, I had no eyelashes. I’m grateful my face wasn’t burned. How did I escape that fate?


I picture myself like a priestess surrounded by the images of my ancestors—my saints and angels. Crosses, rosaries, crystals, offerings, water, candelabras, grimoires, candles, and prayers filled my space. It’s ironic that while everything around them suffered, those sacred items survived. The walls and books were lost, but my ancestor photos remained intact. My 2001 bottle of Rhine River German wine was cut in half, yet everything meaningful survived—like my cha cha rattle, St. George’s statue, my Obsidian crystal ball, and the axe Alex gifted me.


If a candle started the fire, why didn’t everything next to it burn? Even Legba’s three coins survived. Some candles I personally made also remained unscathed. 


The folders I spent years compiling were scorched. All my books and grimoires burned, along with 15-20 journals that documented a decade of spiritual work—so sentimental to me. I lost my drum, my keyboard, and my craft materials including dream catcher supplies, candle-making tools, and scrapbooking materials. 


My beautiful silk rug was incinerated, and countless ancestral heirlooms, some over 100 years old, are now gone. 


Now, I ponder why this would have been deliberate. I always have candles lit 24/7. 


It wasn’t a candle that caused the fire. 


It was an electrical issue. 

Tuesday, 7 January 2025

Post Fire musings on Lake Side House

Unedited: post belcan ceremony 

A few months ago I clicked a button and ordered a book that was out of stock at the time, which arrived in an interesting time of my life. I picked it up last week, and opened in a chapter that was something I was searching for answers for, not only for days/weeks but months after the fire. This room was solely for Magick. My ex & I. Alex, and J later his new partner, who was initiated into 21 commissions/espiritismo & Wicca months earlier) were the sole users. But I had also had a few family members use it for prayer / seance. It was where I had my ancestor alter set up, (as did my ex, opposite parts of the room), and I started to build a huge spiritsmo altar that was venerating the spirits from spirism / 21 divisions / spiritismo ;mesa blanca: & the tradition of Haitian voudou (the 7 lines/ and my own court) id been taught & was connecting with. 

Plus separate altars for various ceremonial magick practices,  which would come and go as needed. It was a huge reason we chose this house, manifesting it via espiritsmo workings, and as per my workings to move down there (I feel as im not formally initiated yet in 21 divisions or voudou) I have had to sacrifice my own body with injury to the spirits as I have not done any animal sacrifice.. The month we moved down I was shopping in the hard ware store for cleaning products & I fell and fractured my knee & elbow, it put me out of exercise & walking for 9 months. 


The night of cancer new moon, July 6th 2024, will forever be my, first & most memorable, trial by fire, flame & blood under my ice cold winter natal moon sign; a perpetual irony.   I was at a crossroads of choice, old me would of chosen to stay awake and take a bath to sleek deprive myself, but new me, chose to go to bed. Once in bed, I felt a split second instant of “discomfort”. My CPTSD was essentially the “compelling factor” that pushed me to push back my quilt, grab it and haul it downstairs, (well in the 6-7 stairs of a split level house), next to my “comfort” in the event I was scared. My huge aviary with 100 beautiful, magickal birds. 

They would blanket me with their feather of protection and cloak me into safety. Not even noticing that candles were burning, as candles were always burning day and night, 24/7. In our home. If I wasn't home, my ex (not my ex at the time) but he worked from home so someone was always there.this weekend he and his girlfriend, by my request, had left so j could do my rituals and I was under duress from him and I having lots of… negative times. 


I won't say anymore. 

I was used to candles, he was. I made them and did this all the time. The fire alarm was only sparked once in the 3 yrs we lives there from incense when ng friend & I had lit a lot once in the first few months of moving in, but i had the door closed & window closed, once we opened it, we figured it would ventilate the room. 


Never again did I hear that smoke alarm, despite my candle making or candle burning day / night almost 365 days 24/7 


I burnt many altar cloths 

Melted wax on tables 

Yes I'd broken glass

But I had my method to put out fires 


Once years earlier I was even outside with my ex and my ugg boot had caught fire on our candle (2016), and the same year, my hair caught fire in my room. Never had anything else close to happening since. 


I went to sleep on the lounge during or after listening to a podcast about the release of Julian assange and searching for the Illuminati card game they were mentioning. I was seeking the “deeper meaning” behind his seemingly random release and felt a bit uncomfortable about it. 


In my slumber my birds meeped at a beep, but my mind thought back to a house I lived in during lockdown where the lithium battery made the smoke alarm faulty and the birds would always be annoyed when it woke them up with its persistence. It wasn't loud. 1 for a 4 bedroom house. I was only in a torsion field of feathers and smoke, an hour later, when I saw my birds & how scared they were, the room was filled with noxious, thick, toxic, hazy smoke, their tiny faces & their increasing cries for help echo in my mind. 


My heart aches for them. I will never forgive myself for the eternal cries from the dove, canary & gouldian who I can never see again as my ex took them from me. 


They all lifted me up, a bird - nado of such. 

Torsion field, feather and song, fire & flame, canaries were trained to call for carbon monoxide in the coal mines. The doves with their warning song, and my finches, my eternal angelic cherubim of love & light; the gryphon Thunderbirds who have done the most heroic act known to avian kind.  A collective fire fighting finch brigade, whirling a finch flight so whimsical it lifted me from the astral into the physical, across the room, near the dining table. Where I grabbed a table cloth, in a stupor, stumbling towards the stairs, into the orange smoky glowing fumes. Instead of smother, it sparked. 

My hair and eyelashes alight.  

I'm on fire, I smell the burning hair so my right hand instinctively reaches tk put it out. Luckily my thick mane protected my face from burning. But my finger was scorched. Under my feet, if felt like kindle, was being stomped on, as I stamped on the flames instinctively, without any control, I just reacted and my body was moving.bang bang bang 

The flames burst higher 

Stomp stomp stomp 

The wooden shutters were now alight 

It was an inferno, I had a bath of water up the hall, a laundry too. I could conjour a bucket, and perhaps it might go out. But by the time I got there the step into the laundry skilled under my feet. The light was out. The bathroom was the first sign of my feet stinging. Not noticeable. But it was the first pain. I couldn't get anything in the dark, so I ran back and noted how growing flames of fury were enveloping, in scope and size.  Mg birds were in a wooden aviary 100kg + only meters away. I had to get them out and the last time I tried alone I got stuck. I was in sufuvvisl mode as I couldn't let them die. I flung furniture across the flore and threw the sliding doors open, hauling the aviary half way out with sheer will alone, noting I needed help.


“FIRE FIRE FIRS FIRS FIRS HELP

I didn't care for myself, it as my angels my beautiful feathered winged babies, who were my priority. 

I ran up the side of the deck, through the side gate, up the stairs, one side as a vacant block. The air bnb usually full on Saturday was black and vacant. 

The only choice was the other neighbour ul up the hill. “FIRE FIRS FIRE HELP!” minites were hours, but every second counts here. 


I ran slamming into their windows and smashing my hands arms and body into the fribt door and window. I'm lucky the wife, Stephanie answered. “Call the fire bridgade!” I screeched like a banched in the night, my throat raspy with smoke inhalation. 


She tried to grab me bht j grabbed her and told her my childrsb were inside, it felt like 10 minutes of deliberation until I had her convinced that she needed to be helping with the pulling out the rest of the birds avairy “I cannot do it, its too hard” I think u was pulling and pushing as the birds aviary doors flew open in the crisp winter night, and she plundered. 


I don't even remember her saying much outside of me being inside was going to kill me,  and me telling her “losing them would kill me more”. 


Then she tried to crash tackle me to the ground once the birds were safely outside as I had a second wind of courage and went to the garden house and fled back inside with the hose “the fire bridage are here” was her attempt to lure me out as she gripped mg arms and I squirmed into the fury of the blaze. The moment the heat hit the nozzle, it fell to the floor, flaccid with the fury of the inferno burning the meek garden hose into oblivion. The flames danced, leapt and twirled above my head but in my mind I tbkight if I stand in front of the birds I can stop the path towards them and thus they will be safe and most of the house might be ok. I reasoned with myself into the decision to be inside the burning room. 


*** 

Tuesday, 10 December 2024

Reflection on foundations of relationships

 Men often leave when you are in the process of personal growth. 

This is why becoming a high-value woman is essential to attract a man who is equally high-value and doesn't require "lessons" in basic communication, psychology, human behavior, self-insight, and understanding his own wants and needs. 


A man should already have a well-established routine that aligns with yours. You shouldn't have to teach him how to eat healthily or exercise because he already knows these things. He has his own path and walks it, but it should align with your values and morals. Together, you can grow through a pure and authentic connection that does not compromise time, energy, or draw from either person's sphere (codependency). You each lead independent and passionate lives full of purpose that complement each other, instead of complicating matters or creating discord. 


By sharing values, principles, morals, and a few common goals (while also being aware of what each of you brings to the table), you create a common purpose and lay down a shared foundation. Set goals as a couple to work toward, and don’t neglect your individual personal goals. This is key: stay healthy and remain focused on your true purpose.


Reflecting on my journey, I was doing well until 2017. At that point, I fell into a codependent pattern with my ex due to poor guidance in therapy. I mismanaged the dynamics that were at play. I can either blame that therapist or take responsibility myself. I need to trace back to before all of this, start anew, and be reborn. Time has been wasted. Who is to blame?


One day, I will summarize all this pain and use it as a powerful mechanism to help others like me. I needed to confront darkness and understand what lies at rock bottom, gaining valuable insights in the process. Now, I see with a new perspective, feeling more empathy and possessing a heightened capacity to push forward to evoke change. A woman filled with love, like me, is a bright beacon for the tormented, ashamed, and broken souls who have been discarded by society.


I recognize those who feel shamed, blamed, or maimed. I thought I had seen it all, but now I see more than ever and can summon the strength forged in my dark nights to heal myself. This passion once burst forth during a higher self therapeutic intervention with psilocybin. “Psychology and psychedelics, through therapy and research, lead you to discover your true self.” 


Therapists are healers—not just for themselves, but for those whose paths they align with. The mushrooms revealed this to me in July 2013, just a month before I completed a year-long dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) program. 

While brainstorming new ideas for "DBT groups 2.0" with my best friend, I realized my calling is to create therapeutic formats. I felt fear initially when running my own sessions, but by 2024, I found my footing again and was ready to embrace my work.


However, life had other plans, and I faced more trauma. My ex had threatened to make things "as hard as possible" for me. Why would anyone do this?