Life really is strangely complicated and sometimes it takes time to understand what it really means to have your life together in one moment but it’s worth remembering how much of a journey you can take to be happy with yourself and the challenges you have faced.
In a land where all things look good and kept is a reality that something’s not quite right.
Enter the villain 🦹♀️ the Narcissist who married an Exho. Yet while the Echo was unaware the echo tried so many different things to make IT all work for the children and the spouse. Over the top adventures were agreed to reckless spending and debt was agreed to and in fact co signed the spouse’s University Student Debt.
All was good as long as the spouse was pleased and entertained. However the spouse would become board. Would even start to exhibit out of character behaviour and would go out with their so called friends staying out endlessly while the echo looked after the children.
Then the affairs and the echo would call out the Narcissist. The Narcissist would be confronted by family and would recline into a relationship with the echo again. The cycle continues yet the echo becomes more and more aware more and more watching absent and picks qualities from the narcissist to emulate.
Now there are two in the same house who’s placing their needs of self love over each other’s needs for one and other.
The bed grows cobwebs and there is no passionate connection only passive aggressive behaviour and malicious behaviour with manipulation. Everything is a game a dance of sorrows.
The children watch on as their parents transform from loving caring parents into separate souls who reject each other’s desires or needs.
This sounds horrible yet remember the echo has leaned. Agile and smart in order to survive. Abused neglected and abandoned by their spouse on a numerous occasions for affairs of fancy and inappropriate behaviour.
The echo unaware that the abuse was directed at them and the children becomes even more self aware. Therapy and counselling bring into the light the true situation. The echo sets limit’s expectations the narcissist plows over them the echo sets standards the narcissist prefers to do what they what when they want with who they want.
The echo mimics this behaviour the narcissist becomes unstable and physically aggressive with covert manipulation.
Long story short the echo becomes the villain based on the narcissist’s manipulation.
Now the victim becomes the villain and the divorce starts.
The victim or villain becomes incarcerated only to find their true selves in the institution while recovering ❤️🩹 from the narcissist being separated from the narcissist and developing a sense of self reliance with spiritual growth.
The victim and villain returns to become the hero 🦸♀️
Not the hero to themselves no the echo is still growing underneath and realizing what has truly happened and why IT happened yet this person is not the same person that entry the institution. No this person is completely different. The hero is hero to observers and othe survivors. Becoming an inspiration and testimony to the people who come in contact with the survivor.
The survivor begins helping random strangers empowering their beliefs and self narratives to be self loving with compassion while healing ❤️🩹 in peer social and yes groups with others dealing with loved experiences.
The hero is no long an echo no the echo is now an emotionally awakened spiritual healer. Yet growing learning supporting and yes very much still recovering ❤️🩹.
This healer this shaman this foraged soul built in the depths of the despair is beyond comprehension to most and yet this story has a happy ending.
The hero continues their journey and helps others along the way while also developing healthy boundaries and relationships because they are now healthy and they now have self compassion for their own needs and the needs of thier children.
The book comes out and there are so many people that are touched by the story and illuminates other’s suffering that they begin to believe and become stronger than ever able to brake their own chains and set themselves free.
The story of one can effect others and empower others.
This is a true story name’s removed for protection.
If this story is happening or has happened to you or someone you are not alone.
You are important
You are valued
You are worthy
Please remember to be safe be well be loved 🥰 your worthy.
Don’t forget IT.
We hope this helps someone out there even just one. Don’t give up don’t give in don’t stop fighting. There are so many people depending on you.
You just haven’t met them yet or they haven’t read your store.
#LivedExperiance #Support #MentalHealth #Grief #PTSD #Depression #Anxiety #SuicidalIdeation #Survivor #DissociationDisorders #Healing #Recovery #restoration #Newlife #Empowerment #Hope #Joy #Love #peace #patience lots of patience.
Be well we hope this finds you well if you know someone struggling or suffering and situation, please help them. They don’t even know they need help.
When I got the label or diagnosis, it gave me a sense of relief. It was because my unique behavior has a name. People told me I was too much and difficult to be around because of my overly "sensitive" nature.
Now after a decade since the diagnosis, I realize this - I deserve to be healthy in a holistic sense. A mental health condition is not a condemnation. I deserve to live well.#BipolarDisorder #MentalHealth #peace #Selfcompassion
“You have problems.” That was the last text message that my mother sent me. It was after she kicked me out for talking about my wife in front of her while on a week long visit to family back in NY.
It’s absolutely not the last time I’ve heard her voice in my head.
It’s there constantly. The shame and guilt I feel are whispered on a constant repeat in a voice that sounds just like hers.
I have been in trauma intensive treatment for my CPTSD for about a year now.
Today, I’m using one of the exercises I was taught by my therapist when I just couldn’t talk about my present without my mother’s voice interfering.
It’s a container exercise. I am imagining putting my mother’s last text to me, her voice guilting me about not calling her today, her voice shaming me about not having kids of my own yet, and all the other trash my head fills with, and I’m putting it into my “Peace Box.”
That’s what I call the box I imagine putting all of these negative thoughts into. My Peace Box is black, made of steel, has a dead bolt, a number key lock pad, and has chains around it keeping it shut with a heavy duty padlock on it. I do my best to imagine putting all of the negativity from my mom’s voice in my head into this box, put the imaginary box in a hole I “dug” in my yard, and walking away from it all. Leaving all the negativity inside of my Peace Box so that I can have…peace.
It’s been many years since I left home, a place I loved and freely roamed.
Born in nineteen sixty-three amidst a war across the sea.
n the south where I grew up, desegregation bloomed like butter cups.
Children from the city known for song were placed on buses and travelled long.
In class three a bus stopped to park at my school, out poured children red, Black, and blue. I was excited to see their faces, unaffected by our different races.
In class three I played daily with Antoine, Joyce, and tiny Bailey.
Their dark brown eyes to this day, warm my heart in a solemn way
Clasped hands white and brown, skipping rope and running `round.
We merrily sang until the school bell rang,
“Ring around the rosies, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!” All while spinning on the merry-go-round.
Taking turns we felt each other’s hair, our teacher smiled as we sat in our chairs.
Our teacher too was brown and had a baby growing, we all were told as she was showing.
I recall a day while she was on duty, a white boy gave her a gift, two hand knit booties.
Her face lit up for they were hand sewn by his white mother, someone unknown.
“Bussing” humans, the government cited, was a success as we were united
Now I am sixty in a far away land, my country divided like it all began.
Red, Black, and blue a whole other meaning, what happened to us playing and singing?
Society scarred and sour, carelessly handled by no superpower.
I hate you yet long for you, your troubles are mine, too.
I defend you, our people, your resilience, and pride
Yet I am broken as the world watches in stride. Guns, shootings, and Black American’s still, fighting to live without being killed.
How are Antoine, Joyce, and Bailey? Are your babies now men, are they worried daily?
Protest signs, riots are all still there, not in my memory but daily in flares!
As children we huddled in tornado drills, giggled, joked, and made small squeals.
Now although in so called unition school drills are needed against ammunition
At eight with Antoine, Joyce, and Bailey side by side, we never imagined our lives would divide.
I never imagined I’d live across the sea; I wonder if they remember me
As headlines roll in from my home state, peace and love are still a debate
The flag which waves before me is yellow and blue, this country is not perfect, yet better it’s true.
Democracy, hypocrisy, all countries have crisis; I expected my homeland to still be the nicest.
I stand at the shore of the North Sea as tears well up for my Tennessee.
The little girl inside still cares about you, the USA, red, Black, and blue.
I rescued a unicorn
Lead me to her home
she rescued me
of all unicorns
To stare and
gaze at me
I know not why
I rescued a unicorn
the star filled sky
In the clouds
So I could
the sunlight of her smile
And found out we both love
The night I
rescued a unicorn
And kissed her
Till the dawns first light