This year has been the most transformational year of my life — and I don’t say that lightly. I started January at the lowest emotional and spiritual point I’ve ever been. I was empty, exhausted, and still carrying the bruises of years of narcissistic abuse, manipulation, and betrayal. I had forgotten who I was. I had forgotten my worth. I had forgotten the sound of my own inner voice.
But God… Jesus stepped into the ruins of my spirit and rebuilt me from the inside out.
The First Step: Admitting I Was Hurt
For so long I tried to be “strong.” I pushed through the pain, made excuses for people who broke me, and pretended I was fine. But survival isn’t the same as healing. Healing started the moment I stopped pretending.
I finally saw the truth: I had been loving people who only loved the version of me they could control. I had been shrinking myself to keep the peace. I had been living with wounds I never gave myself permission to feel.
Acknowledging that was my first doorway into freedom.
Inner Child Healing: Finding the Girl I Abandoned
Somewhere this year, in the midst of prayer, silence, and those deep soul-level cries, I met a version of myself I hadn’t seen in decades — my inner child.
The part of me that used to glow. The part of me that trusted. The part of me that believed she deserved good things.
She wasn’t gone. She was just waiting for me to come back for her.
I held her hand again. I apologized to her. I protected her. And I started making decisions in alignment with her — not the voices of people who harmed me.
That changed everything.
The Role of Discipline, Faith, and the Word
People talk about healing like it’s pretty. It’s not. It’s discipline. It’s showing up on days when you want to give up. It’s choosing silence over reaction. It’s choosing self-respect over familiar chaos. It’s choosing the narrow path instead of the easy one.
I learned that discipline IS a form of self-love.
And faith… Faith carried me when nothing else could.
I opened my Bible more. I prayed more. I handed every fear, every heartbreak, every unanswered question to Jesus — and He answered not with explanations, but with peace.
And that peace changed me.
Walking With Jesus Through the Fire
Jesus didn’t pull me out of the fire. He walked with me through it.
He healed the parts of me I didn’t know were still bleeding. He showed me the patterns I needed to break. He raised my standards, sharpened my intuition, and reminded me exactly who I am:
A chosen daughter. Protected. Loved. Strengthened. Called for more.
The more I surrendered, the more I was restored.
The Woman I Am Now
I look at myself today — emotionally, spiritually, mentally — and I barely recognize the woman I was at the beginning of the year. The difference is supernatural.
I am calmer. I am wiser. I am more aligned. I am finally in my feminine energy. I am no longer begging for love that drains me — I am attracting love that matches me.
And it’s because Jesus rebuilt me from the ground up.
He didn’t just restore me — He elevated me.
If You’re Reading This and You’re Still in the Storm…
Please hear me: You are not meant to stay broken. You are not meant to stay stuck in cycles that crush your spirit. You are not meant to dim your light for people who refuse to see your worth.
Jesus will meet you where you are. But He won’t let you stay there.
If He can heal me — deeply, completely, miraculously — He can do it for you too.
The Bottom Line
This year didn’t just heal me. It rebirthed me. It returned me to myself. And it reminded me that nothing — absolutely nothing — hits harder than a woman who finally knows her value.
People are frightened and stressed and wondering what tomorrow will bring.
Some people even say the world is ending.
But what is really happening….is the beginning of the Great Awakening.
People all over the world are being forced to question everything they ever knew to be true. And although this is quite terrifying to most, it’s actually a really great thing.
The world as we know it IS ending. But not how you think.
Three years ago my entire world as I knew it ended when I caught my husband cheating. I knew it couldn’t be resolved. I knew I had to start completely over with 3 innocent children whose lives were about to drastically change without any kind of notice. Almost overnight. Seemingly without any kind of warning.
I spent a decade of my life working and building and giving myself 100% to something only to have it all torn down in the blink of an eye.
I had to adjust every single move I made. Every comfort I ever had in this life was gone in an instant. The weight of the world was dropped onto my shoulders, and I broke down. And hated myself for breaking down. And never thought I would ever recover or have any kind of semblance of a “normal” life again.
It was scary. It was stressful. It was tragic. It was fucking hard.
But as time went on I began to realize that it was the best thing that ever could have happened to me. I realized that everything I knew to be true in my life was just someone else’s version of what reality should be.
I slowly freed myself from the shackles of expectation from my peers. From my family and friends. From myself.
I began to see things for exactly what they were. I swallowed my pride and my sorrow and self-pity and then came to realize that my life could be whatever I wanted it to be as long as I could learn how to control my own emotions. And that took having to take a deep, long, uncomfortable look inside of myself.
It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t easy. It was extremely painful. And massively lonely.
But as time went on I started to figure out that there was much more to this life than just what was going on in mine.
I found greater purpose when I got in touch with myself for the first time in my life. Because once I was able to do that, I realized that everyone has struggles. And heartbreaks. And pain. And loneliness. And once I came to that realization, I’ve never felt alone again.
I was no longer focused on having nice things in my life. I was focused only on healing people. People just like me. People who really only ever wanted to be seen, heard, accepted, and appreciated. And loved.
And that is when I made it my ultimate mission in life to become a healer. In any way that I knew how. Art, music, poetry, laughter. Hugs. Lending an ear. Giving honest advice. Actually really getting to know people for who they are, not what they had to offer me.
Everything I am is love now. Nothing will ever be able to change that.
I went through my dark night of the soul. And then I went through my own personal Great Awakening. I realized through all of this what my purpose is. What ALL of our purpose is. Simply to love.
People have funny ideas about what love is. But I have come to fully understand what it really means.
It means being understanding. And sympathetic. And encouraging. And courageous. And strong. And accepting that others have insecurities that cause them to act out or act in ways that aren’t always so nice. But being confident enough to know that whatever they are doing is a reflection of their feelings about themselves. Because they were probably never loved correctly. And making it a point to make sure they know that YOU love them no matter what.
Love doesn’t mean you have to keep someone actively in your life. Or tolerate their ridiculous bullshit. Like your pissed off immature boyfriend trying to piss you off by sending you a picture of some other girl sitting on his couch in a shirt of his you always wore every time you spent the night. Or your own son smashing your tv screen out of anger. Or your sister excommunicating you from her life over a very minor disagreement. Or the idiot at the grocery store during a staged fake apocalypse ready to fist fight you over the last roll of toilet paper. It is possible to love people you may never speak to again. Love is acceptance. Love is forgiveness. Love is understanding.
We’re all going through a lot right now with everything going on in the world. But if you think about it…..we’re all ALWAYS going through a lot…even when the world is seemingly more stable than it is right at this very moment.
What the world needs right now is love.
That’s all it ever needs.
Everyone on the planet is being forced to awaken.
The veil is being lifted.
The truth is being exposed.
And the only thing I know to be true in this life is this:
All we need is love.
Be the love.
Be the comfort.
Be the candle in the window.
Be the water to quench someone’s thirst.
And expect nothing in return for it.
And accept that by doing these things, you’ll probably only get hurt.
And be ok with that.
All I’ll ever do from here on out is love absolutely everyone I come in contact with.
I think the world needs that at all times, no matter how good or bad things are going.
Be the light. Be the gentle hand. Be the person everyone calls upon. Let that be your purpose.
Shed everything you ever knew to be true and let only love motivate you.
And love passionately.
And to all of humanity: I see you. I feel you. I get you. I got you. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m here. ❤
Disclaimer: I am NOT a psychiatrist or a psychologist. These are all just my own thoughts and observations.
Society these days seems to be an out-of-tune orchestra of mentally ill human beings roaming about the Earth looking for ways to fill the void. In some ways, that’s exactly what it is. But if you look at things from a different perspective, you will find that there is much more that you’re not seeing. The truth.
The truth is that mental illnesses are superpowers. The “ordinary” people of the world only want us to believe that people with mental illnesses are “sick” and need help. The truth is that people with mental illnesses are just a little more enlightened and gifted than the others. They have extra senses that defy the logic of what is known about contemporary biology and puzzle scientists everywhere. So science itself has deemed anything about the human brain that it just can’t figure out collectively as a “disorder.”
The meaning of disorder can be taken one of two ways. 1.) Something that needs to be put back into order. 2.) A necessary component in a complex equation.
I choose to see it as the second way. In order for progress to occur in humanity we need a dynamic, creative, robust mix of minds. We need a large group of people who all think the same way in order for the structure of society to be maintained. But we also need people who think differently mixed in to question everything, disseminate new ways of thinking, and inspire independent thinking and imagination. Disorder is critical to not only the progress of mankind, but its survival.
In a perfect world, people with mental illness would be elevated and given the right environment and tools they need to thrive and create new possibilities for the progress of mankind. Sadly, however, they are typically pushed aside and looked at as problems.
The rules under which our society is governed doesn’t like disorder. Those who govern our society like everything to be simple, cut, and dry. They seek control in order to protects THEIR ideas of how life should be. And because of that, they banish the gifted people of the world by labeling them as mentally ill.
Mental illness is in the eye of the beholder.
Insane, I know. All of this sounds absolutely insane.
But…I’m right.
My 8-year-old son was recently diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. He was causing disruption in class and had to be put on half days. He refused to learn math facts and spelling words. He was isolating himself and telling his teachers that he just doesn’t like people and would rather be alone.
I was not exactly shocked. My youngest boy has always been different. He has always gotten extremely over-stimulated during anything other than one-on-one interaction. Put him in a group, and it’s allllll over! He likes to enterain. He likes to make people laugh. He likes to be silly and creative. He has no problem ever telling anyone anything about themselves that he notices. He wants to connect. He wants to talk. He has a lot to talk about. He has ideas. He has pictures in his mind that he wants everyone else to see. He refuses to conform. He doesn’t like to waste time on anything that does not inspire him.
He is BRILLIANT!
The truth is, my boy does not have a mental illness.
He has a superpower.
He has the ability to see things for exactly what they are. He has an extremely rare passion to learn about deep, meaningful topics. He has the biggest heart in the world for animals and nature.
He has a sharp intution that allows him to perceive anything phony or negative. This is why he rejects involvement with so many people. He sees through the masks. He knows a person at their core immediately. He knows who is worth knowing and who is not for him within minutes of meeting someone new. And the kid is ALWAYS right.
He doesn’t “fit” in. And I’m super grateful for that. He’s not like most people who fall in line at every command. He doesn’t look to authority for answers….he looks within himself. He doesn’t make friends easily, because he is not willing to let just anyone with a smile on their into his little world; he looks for more than that.
The truth is, the only thing that is “wrong” with my boy is the fact that his mind cannot be controlled by anyone but himself. And the heirarchy of our society finds that super inconvenient.
A person who can’t be conditionally programmed is a threat to the system.
A person who can’t be conditionally programmed is a threat to the rule-makers.
A person who can’t be conditionally programmed is a threat to the government.
A person who can’t be conditionally programmed is a threat to industry.
A person who can’t be conditionally programmed is a threat to indoctrination of all forms.
People with mental illnesses do all of the above, and as a result are labelled as “ill” and treated like aliens. They are ostracized and made to feel inadequate or broken. They are cast out of standard cirlces and looked down upon.
The truth is…ordinary people are just asleep. They can’t see the things that “mentally ill” people can see. They are too distracted by pop culture and image and money and fame and attention. They are blinded by meaningless constructs while the “ill” are on a conquest for the deeper meaning of their own existence. And that’s ok. To each his own.
So what needs to change?
We as a society need to become more welcoming and accepting of different thought processes. We need to break the stigma that just because someone thinks differently they have a mental illness. We need to all come together and embrace diversity and find a place for everyone.
I will continue to believe that anyone who has ever been diagnosed with any kind of mental illness has rare gifts to share with this world. I will continue to encourage society to see things through different perspectives. And I will continue to proclaim that mental illness is a superpower.
To all of you out there who have been diagnosed with any form of mental illness, please know that there is nothing wrong with you. You’re beautiful and different from the rest. Don’t ever try to fit in. Because you are too special for that! Instead, learn more about yourself and the way you think and use it to your advantage. And ALWAYS use your superpowers for good!
A funny thing happens when you are in the midst of a crazy tumultuous time in your life. It’s like the whole time you know you’re preparing to enter a storm, and you have faith that you have all you need to defeat it, and you’re optimistic about the outcome. And feel ready for it. And then you invite it to battle.
That’s how it is for me, anyway. I lay in wait for the perfect time to make a move. Like the ultimate chess game. And I’m not willing to play you unless I invite you in. But I wait for you to invite me first without even knowing it. The subtle cues. The mannerisms. The things that make your pulse go up…especially that look I give you that tells you directly right off the bat that I’m reading into your soul at every moment and you will not be able to escape the pull.
And that’s right about the time you realize fully…..that you’ll never be able to conquer or defeat me, no matter what move you make against me.
Because even when I lose, I find a way to turn it into a win.
Love-bombing. It’s a term that an alarming percentage of society has never heard of before and has no clue what it even means. Until a couple years ago I hadn’t. Once I found out about it, however, I dived deep into research surrounding it and ended up learning a whole new vocabulary of terms I had never really paid attention to before.
I had heard of narcissism in my youth and didn’t think too much of it. I thought, “oh yeah…like the people who always need to be the center of attention and care more about their image than anything else.” In the past I just thought that being a narcissist was another personality trait that some people had. I had no idea what it really meant.
It all started one day when I was contemplating why the relationship of my dreams had failed. I was miserable. Devastated. Absolutely sick over it. I KNEW it had to be my fault, but I was never able to come up with a good enough reason because I did everything right. So I turned to the one place in the world I can always count on for the best kind of guidance: YouTube.
Yep…I went on YouTube and searched for “what did I do wrong in my relationship” and tapped on the first video that popped up. I watched it in its entirety. A full 28 minutes. But about 3 minutes into the video I knew that I had stumbled upon what was going to give me all the answers I ever needed. The story this man was telling about his failed relationship was nearly the same as my own.
By the end of the first video I had gotten an answer I never expected. None of it was my fault. The only blame that belongs to me is for staying too long. Longer than I wanted to. Longer than I should have. But even that, I found, wasn’t my fault either. I was the victim of narcissistic abuse. I was the victim of something I’d NEVER heard of before. So I dived deeper into research and discovered a dimension of this world that I never knew existed.
Narcissistic abuse is a very twisted, dark, cruel game. It is very difficult to recognize and by the time the victim realizes what is going on, they’re usually too far in to get out right away. And once they do get out, they typically are stuck picking up the pieces of what used to be their life and start building from scratch. Possibly, for years.
The good news is that there is a very early sign (or symptom, in this case) that can clue you in to the fact that you may be dating a narcissist. Love-bombing. Love-bombing is THE trademark tactic that all true narcissists employ to captivate their victims.
So what does love-bombing really mean, anyway? The short version is that the narcissist (right off the bat without really even knowing that much about you yet) will make their whole world revolve around YOU. And very soon after they meet you will have you convinced (without really even knowing much about them yet) that they are literally the love you’ve been waiting for your entire life. The sky will look bluer. The sun will shine brighter. The birds will sing sweeter. You’ll have a constant smile on your face. And they’ll know they have you right where they want you. And that’s where it all starts.
Fresh-cut flowers, candy, jewelry, constant compliments, “I need you.” “I don’t know how I could ever live this life without you.” “You’re the only thing in this world that matters to me.” All-day-every-day texting. Long phone calls every night. Romantic getaways, cuddling, endless laughter. Long all-night conversations in the candlelight until dawn. You both can’t seem to get enough time together no matter how long you have. You’re hooked. This is it.
Then, as suddenly as this whirlwind began, it starts to change. Drastically. The texts wane to almost nothing. Days will start to go by with no contact. You’ll start getting concerned and ask to talk. You’ll be told you’re just worrying over nothing. “Sometimes I just need a little space.” , “I have had a long week and am just really tired.” There’s not much laughter anymore at all. You’re deeply affected by this. “Everything was going so great….what did I do wrong?” And you’ll obsess over this to the point that you lose interest in EVERYTHING in your life but figuring THIS out.
Typically, right when you’ve just gotten to a point where you’re getting over it and accepted that they just changed their mind, guess who shows back up? The narcissist!!!! With flowers, and wine, and candy. Slow dancing with you in the kitchen telling you how much they missed you! Promising to never leave you again. More love-bombing.
And it feels greeeeeeeat!
And you believe it.
But you shouldn’t.
Just as everything is back on track things start getting weird again. They are showing you sides of them you never imagined existed. “But that’s ok,” you tell yourself. “We are just really starting to get to know each other better, that’s all.” You force yourself to believe every ridiculous excuse you make up for them and their diminishing respect for you. And then the next phase begins.
“You should be grateful have me in your life, because no one else would EVER be willing to deal with you.” “You’re too sensitive and are taking things the wrong way.” “There are so many other people just DYING to be with me. You should feel lucky that I am choosing YOU out of all of them for some reason.” “I don’t even know why I like you.” “You’re literal trash.”
And you begin to believe that, too.
Slowly but surely you get depressed. Sad. Miserable. You can’t stop thinking about the wine and roses and slow dances in the kitchen. The long all-night talks about each of your deepest thoughts and hopes and dreams. The constant laughter you once shared together. You want it back. So you tell yourself you’ll do whatever it takes to get it back. And you stay.
And the abuse continues. And gets worse. And you start to feel like the biggest loser in the world. And you start to believe that nothing you do will ever be good enough. And nothing in the world makes you happy anymore. And you begin to start believing that nothing ever will again.
At this point, you’re probably finally ready to get out. But you’re so weak and so tired that you literally have no hope of ever finding anyone who will ever love you again. You’re only goal at this point: survival.
So you make a break for it and begin the very slow and outrageously painful process of moving on from this person. You still can’t stop thinking about the wine and roses and slow dances. The great conversations. The romance. But what you really miss the most is the laughter.
You grieve. You withdrawal from their presence. But you can’t stop thinking about them.
Months go by. Years. They still haunt your mind. You’re pretty sure you will never get past this. And you are probably right.
Most people in society are good. They want real love and have a lot of love to share. Real love does exist. True friendship is out there. But NONE of it EVER starts with love-bombing. That I am willing to guarantee.
My story is not unique. Nor are my experiences with narcissists. As it turn out, my story is the same as MILLIONS of other people in the world. Almost to a T. That is no coincidence.
My hope in sharing what I know from first-hand experience and years of in-depth real-life research on the subject is that telling what I’ve been through may prevent someone else from going through what I’ve been through. I’ve talked to many, many people who have experienced the devastating effects of narcissistic abuse and feel it is my responsibility to raise awareness.
If you have any questions or need guidance on narcissistic abuse, please feel free to message me, and I’ll do my best to respond and point you in the right direction. The more knowledge you are armed with, the less likely you are to ever be the victim of narcissistic abuse in the future.
I know for a fact I never will be again! Love-bombing shows me all I need to know about a person. So keep an eye out for the signs!
I was married for 96 months in a robust 2-income household and never had a penny to my name. Our rent was ALWAYS late. We faced eviction so many times over the years that I lost count. The power company sent us shut-off notices every month. We spent many nights in the dark, using candlelight to find our way around.
My then-husband’s new pool sticks were prioritized over the water bill being paid or replacing shoes and clothing that the kids had outgrown. His insatiable need to have latest new smartphone model was prioritized over car payments, and my vehicle that I worked very hard to purchase before I even married him was inevitably repossessed. His addiction to online gaming was prioritized over making sure we had enough nutritious food to keep our growing family healthy and content. And when I’d had enough and tried to get out, he emptied every red cent in our bank account so that there was no way I could leave.
I was stranded. Held captive in the exact opposite of the life he had promised me.
I was constantly stressed and worried. And eventually, terrified. I worked incredibly hard to provide for my family and every last dollar of my paycheck was already spent before it even got deposited. I made really good money, too, so none of it really made much sense. It was an endless loop of scarcity and fear. And I believed there was no way out of that nightmare.
I left the marriage 2.5 years ago and have struggled a LOT! I went down to a 1-income household making considerably less money that I ever had before I left. I took on all responsibility for the children on my own. We had no choice but to flee like refugees and move in to a part of town that was on the “wrong side of the tracks.” I was quite uncertain that I made a good decision on the new place I had chosen to call “home,” but I knew somehow that it would be better than what I was leaving behind. Anything would be better than that.
We started our first week out in our new home with food from Dollar Tree and just the clothes on our backs as well as a few blankets my ever-so-generous then-husband graciously allowed me to take. No tv. No radio. No toys for the kids. We literally had nothing. Regardless, as I glanced back at our family home through the rear-view window, I somehow knew that everything was going to be alright from now on. A peace had enveloped me. A joy. I had finally escaped!
Over the last couple of years I found myself in situations I never thought I’d find myself in. Problems I had never forecasted rained down upon me. My kids have struggled, too. But somehow I’ve always found a way to carry on and make the most out of any situation I find myself in.
It hasn’t been easy. But my power has never been shut off once. Bills may run a bit overdue now and again, but they’re ALWAYS paid in full. The boys always have clothing and shoes. We always have more than enough to eat. I bought a new vehicle and still have not to this day missed one single payment. And although I still worry here and there and go through struggles, life is immeasurably better than it ever was before I left.
Today I paid off my home. It took 18 months. Not long if you consider the fact that in my 96 months of marriage I never owned ANYTHING, let alone a home I could call my own. If you asked me 2.5 years ago I would have told you that there was no way possible this day would ever come. But here it is.
I definitely couldn’t have done it on my own, though.
Thanks to my parents for helping me out in countless ways countless times. And for always being supportive no matter what. And especially for raising me to NEVER give up! Thank you for raising me to be survivor.
Thanks to my neighbor who gifted me a lawnmower when I first moved in because he knew there was no way I was going to be able to put together enough money to buy my own.
Thanks to my then-landlord for gifting couches and other furniture to me when I first moved in because he knew the dire situation my children and I had found ourselves in.
Thanks to my friends for lifting me up and always being there in any way that they could. And for always being so understanding, generous, and kind to my boys.
Thanks to my children who have been impossibly supportive and patient with me as I worked on bettering our situation and rebuilding our lives. I’ll never give up!
And a HUGE thank you to my ex-husband. Thank you for doing everything possible to get in my way. Thank you for trying everything in your power to cause me to fail. Thank you for not supporting your children at all. Dealing with you has taught me how to be stronger and has motivated me to fight even harder to build the life my children and I deserve. A life of peace. A life of love. A life of security.
Today is a huge milestone for the kids and me. Today we are homeowners.
What started out as a foreign, scary place has truly become our sanctuary. A place where new traditions have been forged. A place where only love and light are allowed. A place where we can be together and feel safe and content always.
There have been so many times I felt helpless and hopeless and frightened. I don’t doubt there still will be times like that. But at least now I know with certainty I’ll be able to navigate through them.
I share my story today in hopes that it reaches someone who needs to hear it. Someone who knows they need to change their situation, but is afraid. I hope my story, in the very least, helps you to find the courage to make a change for the better. To find the strength to jump over any roadblock that pops up on your path. To find all of the possibilities in a seemingly impossible situation. And to realize that you can do it.
I’m not big into holidays. I never have been. I find them to be quite chaotic, stressful, overstimulating, wasteful, and well…fake. I’ve always looked at them as nothing more than a major tactic of capitalism under the guise of “tradition.” And each major holiday, without fail or exception, ALWAYS brings me the wondrous gift of major anxiety attacks.
There is a certain stigma that surrounds each pagan holiday. Easter is for baskets of chocolate and pastel-dyed eggs. Thanksgiving is for Turkey and football. Christmas is for spending a bunch of money you don’t have for the exchange of gifts you don’t need and over-eating. There is a lot of pressure to wear your “best” clothing and present yourself as some super happy excited human being to everyone in your life who already knows you well enough to know that’s just not who you are. What’s the point?
I notice that the general majority of people get incredibly excited and joyous about holidays. In drastic contrast, I get incredibly depressed, stressed, and overwhelmed. I’ve always been this way, and always thought there had to be something wrong with me.
Yesterday afternoon as I was isolating myself in my bedroom watching crime documentaries on Netflix pretending it was just another random Thursday while the kids played in the living room I contemplated, “Why are holidays always so hard for me? Even in the best of times?” I went and turned off the oven, turkey still inside. The boiled potatoes were un-mashed sitting in the pot of water. The drippings were in the pan waiting to be turned into gravy. I had to take a break from it all. It was a bit too much for me.
Once I triple-checked that I had turned all the burners off, overtaken with guilt, I headed back to my room to think about what could possibly be wrong with me. And I came to realize that holidays literally go against EVERYTHING I believe in. The phoniness. The drama. The intense pressure to participate in things you want nothing to do with for the sake of tradition. Same shit, different year. Over and over and over again. Conditional programming. Fitting the mold.
At that point in my thoughts I began to feel ungrateful. After all, holidays are about celebrating gratitude with your loved ones. I should be feeling nothing but blessed around the holidays. I’m no scrooge, and I AM grateful. So what do I do to fix my problem? That’s when I had a stunning realization: I can still participate joyfully, but in my OWN way.
I don’t have to dye eggs or roast a turkey or trim a tree to celebrate just because that’s what everyone else does. I’m not required to do the festive things everyone else feels the need to do around the holidays. NOT doing those things won’t hurt my family. We can celebrate in our own way, without ANY of the pressure. It’s okay if we sit around in our pajamas together watching documentaries, listening to non-festive music, eating grilled cheese for dinner on Thanksgiving. It’s okay to spend the entire holiday in a soup kitchen volunteering to serve food to those less fortunate than we are. It’s okay to donate items to families who are struggling more than we are. Our joy, after all, comes from truly giving from the heart to those who need uplifting.
I was super happy with my new outlook on holidays. I immediately went out to the living room to tell my kids my thoughts on how holidays should go from now on in our time together and asked their opinions. “Do you guys think you’d be ok with grilled cheese for dinner next Thanksgiving instead of all this madness that I really don’t like to do?” I asked.
“Of course, I don’t even really like turkey that much anyway,” replied Linkin. “I don’t care what we eat as long as you feed me,” stated Kam. “But what about the turkey you made tonight? I’m getting really hungry.”
The turkey! The un-mashed potatoes! The gravy! I had to finish dinner, and by now it was getting late. So together the 3 of us gathered in the kitchen and finished preparing dinner. And then we ate it, gratefully, knowing that it was probably the last time we’ll ever make a “traditional” Thanksgiving dinner again while talking about how great next Thanksgiving will be when we’re eating grilled cheese and not having a huge mess to clean up afterwards.
The most ironic part of the night was that the ONLY thing traditional about our Thanksgiving was the turkey. The boys literally sat on the kitchen counter in their underwear, each eating a giant turkey leg with no plate like Vikings. And that was the very BEST part of my night. It brought me great joy to realize that despite the turkey, we did Thanksgiving our own way after all.
We’re just gonna do holidays in our own weird way from now on. Unapologetically. The way we always should have done it. Whatever way makes us happy and content. And that makes me look forward to every holiday to come. ❤
So I’ve been chatting with a lot of people in my circle lately about how the universe communicates with me constantly. I’ll be listening to music and a song I’ve never heard before will play at just the right moment and the lyrics will answer a question I’ve been pondering. I’ll be driving down the road on my weekly Saturday morning leisure drive and a license plate on the car in front of me will confirm my exact thoughts at that moment. I’ll be walking through the woods and thinking of my late grandmother and out of nowhere a red-winged blackbird will fly right by me. (We used to birdwatch together in my youth, and those were her absolute favorite.) I’ll discover a music artist whose music really speaks to me and not soon after will get a call from a friend telling me they’ve got tickets and we’re going. The list goes on and on.
Is it all a coincidence?? Or is there more to it?
The more I began to think about it I came to realize that the universe has been speaking to me my entire life. I was just blinded by the conditional programming our society uses to keep us all obedient for too long. I was paying attention to all the wrong things. Things that would inevitably lead me astray from the path I was destined to walk. Things that would silence the gifts I was given in this lifetime and meant to share with the world. But one day, as it were, I woke up. Finally, I started seeing the signs.
As I started to understand how the universe operates I began telling everyone I could about it so that they could start to see the signs in their life, too. I was nervous at first. “Surely,” I thought, “everyone is going to think I’ve gone insane.” Much to my surprise, however, opening up about what I had discovered changed my life in the most wonderful ways.
All the wrong people fled my life. All the right ones appeared in my life. People started sharing their own experiences with me. There were unbelievable parallels that brought us closer together. Magic. Enlightenment. Confirmation. Oneness. Peace. Harmony. Love.
My focus shifted from the material world to the world we cannot detect with the “five senses” we are taught to believe we are limited to. I began meditating regularly. I began practicing gratitude instead of doubt. I began to tune in to my own mindfulness and self-awareness. And the signs became more apparent and accessible to me.
In time I realized that the veil was being lifted. I was shedding everything I had been taught and learning on my own everything that was truly real about existence. And I realized that art in all forms has been trying to express the same lesson over and over and over again throughout all of time. I learned that ANYTHING is possible and we all have the power inside of us to make our lives whatever we want them to be. There is ALWAYS a way, no matter how impossible it may seem. The only true limits are the ones we put on ourselves. The only tools we need are the signs the universe gives us.
Today I challenge you to open yourself up to the signs around you. When you see one, you won’t even have to second-guess. It’s a feeling. A knowing. The universe, your higher self, intuition, God….whatever you believe in or want to name it…is ALWAYS communicating with you and guiding you. Are you paying attention??? If not, maybe THIS is the sign you’ve been looking for.
That decision quickly evolved into something deeper.
By Monday, I committed to a one-meal-a-day, meat-free fast, eating only at 6:00 p.m. I completed Monday and Tuesday successfully. Hunger was present, but manageable. I felt focused. Clear. Grounded.
Then Wednesday came.
By mid-day, the hunger intensified in a way I hadn’t expected. Instead of pushing through another eating window, I listened inward and made a new decision: Wednesday would be a full water-only fast.
That’s when everything shifted.
By Wednesday night, my senses became incredibly acute. Sounds were louder. Thoughts were sharper. Emotions moved through me more freely. My body was tired, but my mind and spirit were wide awake. Sleep barely came.
Thursday morning arrived, and I knew—deep in my body—that it would be time to break my fast at the 48-hour no-food mark. Still, I held the line until 6:00 p.m.
It wasn’t easy.
But I made it.
At 6:00 p.m., I ate pizza with vegetables and cheese—no meat. The effect was immediate and profound. My body relaxed. My nervous system softened. A wave of calm and bliss washed over me, and for the first time in days, sleep found me.
This morning, I woke up still a little sleepy—but deeply grateful.
Grateful that I had the strength to finish. Grateful that I honored my body. Grateful for what the fast revealed.
My Intentions—and the Results
I entered this fast with three intentions:
To gain mental clarity
To heighten my spiritual senses
To cleanse and heal my body
All three occurred.
But the lessons went even deeper.
I learned that I have more discipline than I ever believed. I learned that I am more grateful than I ever knew. I learned that even the most basic, simple things in life—like food—should never be taken for granted.
I gained a small glimpse into what it feels like for those who do not have consistent access to food, and that awareness has stayed with me.
I learned that my body is a temple, and what I put into it matters—not just physically, but mentally and spiritually.
What Carried Me Through
During the hardest moments, I leaned on three things.
First, I thought of Jesus in the desert.
Then, I thought of those who do not have the luxury of eating every day.
Then, I returned to God’s Word.
And when it felt hardest of all—when fear, pain, grief, shame, nightmares, and emotional turbulence surfaced—I anchored myself in love.
The love I have in my life. The love I have for others. The love that sustains us all.
There were moments during this fast when temptation appeared in many forms. But each time it did, I called upon Jesus—and each time, I was carried through.
The Outcome
This fast was successful in every way that mattered.
My heart has softened. My body feels renewed. My spirit is singing.
I’ve learned how certain foods affect my mind, body, and spirit, and I feel better equipped to navigate a healthier, more intentional version of myself moving forward.
This wasn’t just about abstaining from food. It was about discipline. Awareness. Gratitude. Faith.
So, here I am, tucked in at home today, feeling a bit under the weather and letting Dave Matthews Band be my medicine. Funny enough, it brings me back to a night in 2021 on Northerly Island—one of those nights that turned into a story I never thought I’d tell.
I had tickets for the second night of the show. After so long locked down, not just because of COVID but because I’d grown a little wary of big crowds and the sheer wildness of people in that kind of setting, I was finally ready to step out. And what better organized chaos to embrace than a Dave Matthews Band concert, right?
But nature had other plans. The skies decided to put on a show of their own with winds, lightning, and rain that turned the whole evening into a hurricane-tornado-tsunami combo. Dave himself had to cancel the show. He was so heartbroken he actually cried on stage as he made the announcement. It was one of the most oddly beautiful moments, because here I was, finally ready to trust the world again, and the world just threw a storm party.
But here’s the magic: as we all walked off the island, people held hands, everyone stayed calm, and it felt like this incredible little bubble of humanity, after so long of being socially distanced apart. The concert didn’t happen, but something even more profound did. And now, on a sick day like this, as I listen to Dave Matthews at home, I remember that night and smile.
In remembrance of S. R. Fannin: thank you for sharing that moment with me. ❤
I don’t talk about this night often. Not because I’m ashamed—at least not anymore—but because it represents a version of me that no longer exists. Still, it’s part of my story, and pretending it didn’t happen would be dishonest. So here it is, in my own words.
At the time, I was living under narcissistic abuse. The kind that doesn’t always leave visible bruises, but slowly erodes your sense of safety, your voice, and your trust in your own reality. I was exhausted, worn down, and constantly navigating chaos that I didn’t create.
That night, the narcissist in my life is the one who told me to call the police—after people in our home refused to leave. I was trying to protect my children and to stand up for another child who was being mistreated. I did what I believed was right. I asked for help.
When the police arrived, things escalated quickly. I was emotional, yes—but I was also standing my ground in my own home. I was warned to be quiet. And I said the words that still echo in my memory: I will not be quiet in my own house.
That was enough.
I was arrested.
When the flashing lights showed up, my body went cold before my mind caught up. There’s a specific kind of silence that happens in moments like that—where the world keeps moving, but you feel separated from it, like you’re watching yourself from above. I remember thinking, How did I get here? Not dramatically. Just honestly.
The narcissist did not come get me from jail.
I had to call my dad.
That detail matters more than people realize.
Jail is not like the movies. It’s boring, uncomfortable, humiliating, and sobering all at once. Time moves strangely there—both too fast and impossibly slow. But instead of breaking down, something unexpected happened.
I started talking to the other women.
And what I learned shook me.
Most of them should not have been there.
One woman was battered and bruised—clearly hurt—arrested for defending herself from her narcissistic, abusive husband. Another was there over an unpaid ticket for a dog that had no tags… three years earlier. The dog had since died. She had no money to pay the fine, and that was enough to put her in a cell.
There was injustice everywhere I looked. Quiet, normalized injustice.
And in that moment, I knew none of us were criminals. We were survivors. Women caught in systems that punish the vulnerable while protecting the wrong people.
So instead of crying, I sang.
I sang praise songs to the Lord—softly at first, then with more confidence. One by one, the tension in that cell eased. Conversations slowed. Breathing softened. Eventually, we all fell asleep.
They thought I was a yoga instructor.
I smiled at that.
Because what I really was… was grounded. Anchored. Held by something bigger than fluorescent lights and concrete walls. I believe we all found peace that night. And I believe God’s justice was present in that cell long before the legal system caught up.
Because the case was dismissed.
I fought it in court. And the truth stood.
I don’t romanticize that experience. I don’t wear it like a badge of honor. But I refuse to carry shame for something that was rooted in abuse, protection, and truth.
That night didn’t break me.
It woke me up.
It showed me where my boundaries had been violated for too long. Where my voice had been suppressed. Where standing up—for myself, for children, for truth—came at a cost I was finally willing to pay.
If you’re reading this and you’ve had a moment you wish you could erase—an arrest, a confrontation, a decision made under pressure—I want you to hear this clearly: you are not your lowest point. You are not disqualified from a good life. You are not beyond repair.
Sometimes the pause you didn’t choose becomes the pause that saves you.
This is not a confession.
It’s a release.
And it’s proof that growth doesn’t always come wrapped in pretty packaging. Sometimes it comes in injustice, courage, worship, and the quiet knowing that God sees everything—even in a jail cell.
The very first scary dream I can remember having in my life was of a swirling black hole. There were two little creatures, small and colorful, holding each of my hands pulling me in circles toward it. Although I was dreaming, I literally felt terrified. I knew it was just a dream, yet I couldn’t stop myself no matter how hard I tried from getting sucked into the hole. Just before I’d get over the edge, I’d wake up.
This dream recurred throughout much of my life as a small child. Same little creatures. Same terror. Every time.
As I got older, the two little creatures disappeared and the swirling black hole was replaced with a giant tornado.
The tornado would chase me and push me to the brink of insanity trying to find a safe place to hide from it. But even in the basements of my mind, the walls were made of windows. Thin glass, leaving me with no other choice but to watch the storm unfold knowing there was nothing substantial protecting me from whatever wrath it would unleash. And just before the tornado would get to the glass, I’d wake up.
Some of us are conditioned from the time we’re born to stay away from the darkness. From the unfamiliar. We are taught to go toward the light. Avoid the dangers of the world at all costs. Play it safe.
But what if I told you that the opposite is true? How could one possibly learn to enjoy the light if not for exploring what the darkness has to offer?
We’re all on an epic journey. Each of us. And the universe provides us breadcrumbs all along the way. It is up to us to choose what we do with them. Fear the unknown, or investigate it. I’ve always been one who is compelled to choose the latter. Thanks to the black hole and the tornado of my dreams that I feared so deeply.
I understand now.
I was supposed to go down the rabbit hole and into the storm all along.
I finally ate the apple.
And now I’m offering it to everyone I meet.
I have no fear dancing with the devil. The darkness loves and wants us just as much as the light.
God is the devil.
The devil is God.
It’s all the same in the end, don’t you see?
Dance and sing and interact with everything. Because once you tune in you can vibe with anything that comes your way. Peacefully. Gratefully. Cheerfully. Unconditionally.
The truth is this: in the end, we’re all just trying to balance each other out. Because in the end, we’re all just one. We all see everything together. That’s all love is. And it’s everywhere. All around us at all times! An endless supply. Over the rainbow and beyond. Inside out and upside down. Fear is the only veil. Once it is lifted, you’ll see that no matter how bad things get in your perception, you still have access to love. No matter what. That which everyone seeks is truly always there. You just have to know how to look at it the right way.
Infinity is such a beautiful state of mind when you realize that love is wi-fi!
*If you or a loved one feels that they are a victim of being Kristi’d, please follow me on Facebook @justkritisti82.*
“You just Kristi’d me,” he stated when I told him something real. I didn’t know what it meant when he said it. So I thought about it for awhile.
And this is what I came up with.
Being Kristi’d means you’re going to be heard and seen and supported and pushed and challenged and rooted for and cried with and laughed with and adventured with and fought for and actually loved.
It means you’re going to be shown the brighter side of every dark shadow this world can throw at you.
It means you’re going to be given truthful feedback and a different perspective so you can experience life on a deeper level.
It means you’re going to hear lots of music and new ideas and insane ramblings that will ruffle you up a bit. It means occasional wild nights. Occasional nights at the beach. Occasional (well let us just be really real and go with “perpetual”) Netflix nights. Whiskey nights. Wine nights. Tea nights. Early nights. Late nights. But they’ll always we GOOD nights.
It means getting random inappropriate memes. It means getting drunk dialed. It means backrubs and emotional healing. It means laughing a lot.
But most of all, being “Kristi’d” means you’re gonna feel ALIVE.
So if you’ve ever been “Kristi’d” consider yourself extremely blessed. Very few get the impossibly rare opportunity. 💋💋💋
I treat people with respect regardless of their capabilities.
I was lucky enough to be created a little more “elevated” than most.
I don’t use people.
Even though I could literally be a puppet master if I wanted to.
I can literally cause exactly what I desire to occur with my mind.
Or a single look.
99% of every move I make is orchestrated and well planned.
All of it.
And no one ever notices what I’m doing.
I was gifted with intense intuition and an acute and precise ability to pre-cognate.
I doubted my abilities for years and tried to deny them because I just wanted to be normal and have a typical human experience in this life.
But ever since I embraced what I am … the only downfall is that I can’t wear rose-colored glasses any longer. They don’t serve me anymore.
So now my struggle is this:
Do I leave people be…Or do I shake them up a bit?
Do I just stay silent and manipulate them with/without hurting them?
Sometimes…people have to be hurt a little to find the will to survive, after all.
The level I’m on has never been rivaled before in my own personal experience in whatever “reality” I’m living.
And as much power as I possess within, there is a darkness that I have to constantly fight to subdue.
The amount of control and restraint I must channel is exhausting and confining.
And the only thing stopping me from turning to darkness is my inane good nature and desire to bring light into this world, all while the blackest of nights swirl at my core.
It’s tiring.
It’s tempting.
But a true warrior doesn’t fight for just herself.
She fights for the others like her.
The others who don’t know what they are yet.
Having to be a pillar isn’t for the weak or weary.
justkristi82 