I have had many spirit guides. Sometimes Spirit Guides have to incarnate into physical when you really can’t connect with spirit. Often your difficulty in connecting with spirit begins with some difficulty in your childhood or maybe even some frightening experience in your early teens. My personal issues were a fear of the “demonic” that I inherited from my mother & then later, being lied to by people I trusted when I used my intuition to sense things & then later a fear of being sectioned by people who were either extremely jealous or trying to stop me from telling the truth.
My mother came from a family who had converted from Judaism to Catholicism to Christianity. My father is Muslim. But technically, your parents are supposed to be your first set of “spirit guides”. Or at least be, in some way able to offer you some connection – or means of connecting to your first set of “spirit guides”.
I personally grew up feeling indoctrinated. A lot of the things I sensed as a child – my mother was afraid of – because she’d been taught by religious teachers that they’re demonic.
Growing up – her own mother was really spiritual. A very intuitive lady who could leave her body – maybe not at will, we never discussed the details of it – but one time she recalled an instance where she watched herself being operated upon by doctors. Years later I would have a surgery to remove something from my side and during that sleep, I watched my ex boyfriend sleeping with this girl (a fragment of my mother) that I had been introduced to by friends, who I had let move into my flat with me, who I had trusted enough to teach things I knew. Perhaps irresponsibly. I remember when I was starting to gain back consciousness I kept telling myself “BREAK UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. PLEASE DON’T FORGET THIS. IT’S REAL”. All these sorts of unusual mantras, pleading with my own brain to accept a reality. When I woke up from that surgery, my boyfriend wasn’t around. I was just lying in bed feeling furious, and I was in a lot of pain. I was given morphine, and more morphine, and more morphine. I think I had up to ten doses. I had joked before the surgery that I would use it as an opportunity to try the drug but it actually had no effect on me – not even as a pain killer (non physical pain and physical pain included. It had no effect.) It just really made the depression worse.
My boyfriend eventually entered the room about forty five minutes into me being awake and I asked him where he had been. He said he’d been in the waiting room but I knew it was a complete lie. I was still in a place where I had been conditioned to listen to lies over my own intuition. Iunno – the whole little incident was very weird. My mother and my boyfriend walked me to a taxi and I was so depressed and still coming off anaesthetic, that just got straight into the car and lay down in the backseat.
My mother’s leg broke, it just snapped. Out of nowhere.
My ex went back to our place, I went home to my mother’s. Some compassionate part of me had really, really died – perhaps either through the morphine or watching my boyfriend have sex with a friend (I did a LOT for her. A LOT.) – but I didn’t stay at home to help my mother recover from her injury. I got up and left.
She spent months trying to recover from that break – mostly alone. I still hated my mother over the upbringing I found painful, and I was really suffering my own problems so I didn’t really feel ready to connect with her. Yes it was selfish but sometimes you have to heal yourself before you can heal others.
We choose who we are born to – we choose our parents and their creed. I guess it’s down to the individual to try and work out what their religious upbringing had to teach them and whether they were born to evaluate and challenge that or to reject it and maybe return to it when they realised that it carried teachings that aligned with their truer personal values. I grew up resenting and ultimately rejecting my family faiths. So… check this, I felt I’d been mistreated because of religion. My mother and I used to have heavy arguments and she’d stand outside my door (I learned how to remove the doorknob at some point so I could run and take the doorknob off to stop her following me in – the TEMPER on Latin Mothers. Lets not be dramatic, some cultures have perfected the art of fighting) – she’d stand outside my bedroom door pleading the “blood of the lamb” and rebuking the “spirit of rebellion”. I DESPISED christians.
Andddddd lets just say I found Islam to be unjustifiably sexist – but it is a means of escaping what a Spiritual teacher called Steve would euphemistically describe as “The Male Gaze”. Ever felt like you were being watched? Disconnected your webcam – but somehow you’re still being watched? Have you considered that someone’s watching you without a camera? Islam is a means of tackling that feeling. Works for some people – not for others.
And actually I need to make an important point here – about Islam and ARAB culture, and “upbringing”. These are three separate things but ideally, a religious person believes that they are intertwined (This is wrong – Jesus – the PHILOSOPHER – highly regarded in the Koran – firmly believed in the separation of Religion and State, for a reason. Work it out.)
– Islam offers a means of escaping the “Male Gaze”. However my issues as a person who identifies as a feminist are thus: firstly, their prophet engaged in what modern society would call paedophilia – it is not for us to judge him or his behaviour but we have learned over time that there is a potential for inflicting great psychological damage to a being by engaging with them sexually, before they have had the time to develop. Secondly there is a surah that specifically permits a man to beat his wife under ambiguous circumstances.
I believe that removed from my beliefs and judgements, an “adult” could potentially engage with a “young person” if it was discussed with their guardians, a wider, sincerely involved community who had a part in that “young person’s” upbringing and knew them personally, and most importantly with that “young person’s” absolute understanding and genuine consent. Also … I’ve been in relationships with guys and we were physically abusive to one another. We had play fights where we would hit each other but we also expressed anger physically – kids have play fights and also beat each other up. But I can’t even remove myself from feeling anger towards an author of a text that doesn’t permit you to question it. If your word is law and your word permits abuse… your word is a law that has to be broken. Your word is not divine. It cannot be. That is not to say it does not carry elements of absolute truth and divine inspiration – but it is flawed.
ARAB Culture and upbringing.
Arab culture is matriarchal. The women run the show. I wish I had a recording of one of my Aunts speaking to her son in his infancy. Like, these are women you do not fuck with.
However… sometimes this creates child-men with severe hatred towards their mothers and sisters … and who later take this hatred out on the women that enter their lives. Sisters, wives, aunties. Whoever the Koran has given them power over.
My father and I have a weird karma. I am a fragment of his mother. He carried a lot of resentment towards his mother for sending him to boarding school at seven years old. I’ve only ever really chatted with her in “dreams” but I’m under the impression that it was because he and his brothers were sexualising his sisters – and I guess sex just isn’t something that was generationally or culturally discussed. My sister is a fragment of his sister that has typically been kindest to him – and she’s kind of been given almost everything she’s ever wanted. I uh, haven’t. So I try not to hold anything against him but it’s difficult – I resent my dad. I kind of think he’s gross. People have always thought I had daddy issues… but I actually have mummy issues. People don’t generally consider the potential for girls to have mummy issues. Lets just say my karma is to be treated … quite inconsistently by a family I want to love but would be justified in choosing not to. That is part of the reason that I pick friends that abuse me and then run from me. My family have never really apologised for mistreating me, have never taken their share of responsibility for the hard time I’ve had – or my drug problems. A teacher told me I can’t live my life blaming my parents and I absolutely agree – so I live with them amicably – but the reality remains and it’s evident in my karma with whoever I hang out with.
My karma is to be alone. I’ve struggled with it but for the most part I’m very comfortable with it. It’s only really through solitude that we can learn the greater truths of the Universes.
Woah what a tangent. Ok sooo – my most important point here is that the Koran is basically a “third wave” of Judaism. Christianity is a “second wave” of Judaism. The Prophet Mohammed (pbuh? or? is that realllyyyyy an appropriate a thing to say for a warlord?) (and FYI – some of my idols were warlords.), like Hitler (not an idol, just an example of someone who was), was rejected by Jews. Who uh. Also have some deeply questionable religious practices particularly concerning women’s welfare – that I would like to discuss sometime, but not right now.
Lovingly destroy one religion at a time, y’know?
One time a fragment of myself called J, who introduced me to Lisa actually – & a guy who often takes me on my very best adventures – introduced me (online) to a guy called Zach who could leave his body. He offered to do a healing session with me through non-physical. He did that – and he told me that a part of my soul had left me, and that he spoke to Jesus Christ who tried to help him get it back to me. He was like “I have NEVER said this to ANYONE – but JESUS LOVES YOU”. Hoooo man, was I PISSED OFF. I was polite, grateful, donated some cash (not a lot to most people, but a lot of money to me – though I guess the experience actually would’ve been more valuable to him than it was to me, and he shouldn’t of taken that money ) But at the time I was like “Fuck this guy. Jesus Christ has ruined my fucking life”
Two of my spirit guides are called H&H. I typed that into google once and got “YAHWEH”… Christians believe YAHWEH to be the “Father” of Jesus Christ. Funny, when you’ve spent your life running from your parents religions …to go full circle and find out that actually the YAHWEH your family worships through varying religious texts is actually your personal spirit guide.
I first connected with them (In non-physical, H&H is two female entities that appear as ‘male’… physically they are one.) almost ten years ago through the guidance of a woman called Lisa. She is not unlike the Oracle in the matrix. (She’d probably tell me I’m not unlike Keanu Reeves, ha) I’ve written about it in greater detail through a website I made for my “spiritual” pseudonym. I’ll post that sometime.
Shen < * typo I’mma leave there.
When I was living with Lisa, I was nineteen. She once said to me “You’re closer to sixteen right now!”
In psychology and counselling, you learn that in order to learn to cope with traumas and exit cycles you have to acknowledge that there is a person inside of you of every age. So a counsellor will tell you, when you are confronted with problems that affected you as a child, your adult self has to communicate with your child self to resolve whatever problem they are having with a situation. I’ve started to learn through listening to meditations with Abraham Hicks that actually your child self is far closer to your real self, closer to source. Your child-self before the various abuses most kids experience. Your adult self is full of strange conditions, rules and coping mechanisms it’s acquired through engaging with the game/hive mind/sheep mentality.
This year I’m trying to consciously listen to how my child self would want to confront situations. She was really nice, really bratty, thought she was the coolest, only liked to play alone or with boys (or girls she crushed on) and when she was angry – she was ANGRY.
Here’s a funny tidbit – when I was younger I used to watch a lot of Frasier. Like when I was really little. I got called stupid a lot, sometimes just because I couldn’t understand a joke… but I don’t think a kid who finds Frasier funny is stupid. And the show was so deeply ingrained in my subconscious that I would have dreams about details like the books featured in the mis en scene – Frasier’s bookshelf.
Later when I would have my “psychotic breakdown” – what spiritual people would describe as a “spiritual awakening” … I channeled both Freud and Jung. And I was led to a wiki search of Freud’s bookshelf.
Edited on 6th February 2018, 07:21 AM to add, RIP 😦
I learned so much from you and Eddie.
So when I started being introduced to psychiatrists, I dominated them somehow – just verbally. And.. they didn’t like it. I got threatened with injections, kept around for longer. Put on medication that gave me Akathisia – a symptom that a psychiatrist discussed in a journal floating somewhere on the internet experienced and described as TORTURE. And I had it for months. And when I described it as a “build up of energy in my stomach” to my doctors they didn’t know what it was. They gave me GAVISCON. And that helped a little bit – but not really. It got to a point where I spent days on and off convulsing and shaking on this medication.
An insecure psychiatrist can’t engage with “patients” – because insecurity is mental illness. Do not confuse insecurity with being humble. Being humble is the capacity to accept there are people who know and understand things you don’t.
A psychiatrist has to be able to prove that they are qualified to “help” someone – & if they cannot – they should not attempt to “help” that person. And shouldn’t judge them for being more intelligent. If you want to study psychiatry, you should study drama and film – you should learn how to analyse character. I engaged with a particular psychiatrist that I felt to be a racist, whose energy was so all-over-the-place in response to mine and the things that I was saying to her – and I really hurt her feelings when I told her that the person who was in control of the room was the black nurse dressed in white, like a story-book angel, holding a clipboard and simply observing.
I went through a series of female psychiatrists who could not cope with me at all. The issue was not that I hate women – it was that I was assigned to women who hate women.
I got told on one occasion, by a woman, that I was “grandiose” – that is NOT an indication of mental illness in anyone but the person throwing the word around. And if a woman is threatened by another woman being “grandiose”, there is a deeper self analysis needed. Why? Why would you be more comfortable in me feigning humility??
And then I was given male psychiatrists who also wanted to control me – who impressed their own morality onto me. Who projected onto me. Perhaps it came from some good place – but they made a mistake by talking about me to family members who hadn’t spent much time around me at all. My sister had been asked to discuss me, for example, and this infuriated me – because she didn’t know me at all. She could’ve said “she’s been acting very strange” – but omitted how she had treated me throughout my life. Sisters aren’t always that nice to each other. It’s a fact of life. This particular psychiatrist was attracted to my sister.
Eventually through quiet observations, I just accepted there was no psychiatrist that could really “help” me, so I played stupid to escape a system that was not advanced enough to “help” me out. I took my medication, I did all of that. It only damaged me physically. I lost years of my life being medicated with tablets that had such awful affects on me that they gave me entirely new traumas to deal with.
My “mental illness” – that is, the strange behaviours that I exhibited, were really an aftermath of repressed childhood rage at being mistreated & constantly learning that people can’t be trusted. Every time I stopped taking my medication I got angry again. And I communicated things that upset me, and the doctors mishandled me, and perpetuated that cycle of not being able to trust & gross mistreatment. Eventually I just “played the game”, I learned not to trust, I learned to tolerate mistreatment.
If a person is self aware enough to be able to “pretend” to be normal, they are not mentally ill. I mean, it’s fucking sad that ultimately THAT is what normal is. That sad behaviour is the end-goal of psychiatric medication. Accept the truth or don’t.
I ended up with a great psychiatrist who eventually took me off the medication that made me shake uncontrollably and put me on another – that made me a little overweight, extremely lethargic & gave me Parkinsonism.
When I went to Denmark I spent a lot of time alone, very, very tired. It was an intense healing process. I listened to a lot of Abraham Hicks (and watched *so many* Zoella & Alfie Deyes videos. I watched like, HOURS of them playing the Sims and it was like hanging out with strange childhood friends) & gradually I started wanting to make art again. It wasn’t great, ground breaking art. Abraham Hicks says that in order to make great art you have to start reeeeally small, with stuff that “doesn’t matter”. I started with this >> tumblr << (I know I’m getting repetitive & that I’ve said this before in previous posts – but 1.) I don’t know that anyone actually reads what I write and 2.) it’s important, just incase someone ever finds my blog because they’re going through something similar.)
And I remembered that in the past, I used to be kind of cool and interesting and even kinda fun to be around – but I really learned that all the while being entirely “alone”.
Before Denmark I was in a relationship with a guy I’ve kind of discussed before – a psychiatric nurse who was a low-key compulsive liar, emotionally & sexually dead. Some higher version of me would say that he was living in a state of deception not too dissimilar to the one I was living – ignoring a reality I had been given ample proof of.
In his company I was boring, never really laughed and had become accustomed to and accepting of the idea that I might never laugh again. Sad to say – but that is what happens when you share energy with a person who has to take fluoxetine to function. He had a lot of hateful, childish, superficial opinions, he kept telling me I had no personality – lots of stuff like that. Two people on psych meds probably shouldn’t really date but we both needed each other, I think. He needed to feel needed, I needed to feel “normal”.
Eventually I was like “out-of-nowhere”, compelled to sit on the floor of our room in a big house in Ealing and outright tell him I was unhappy with the relationship. We both kind of accepted it without argument, but over the next week or two this break up triggered in me a fear of being alone – I rang my friend Jason in tears. Some time before the break up I’d coerced him into leaving London, and he was living in the countryside, in a cute mansion with some creatives.
They invited me to a super Halloween party and “everything” came back. “Everything” had come back before that – gradually – but I wasn’t paying attention. More – I was ignoring everything. But on the evening of that party I remembered that I have an ability to know things that aren’t attached to bodies, time or facts.
Later I met a person in Denmark who was honest enough to repeat a – really embarrassing – telepathic conversation I’d had with them. Later yet – a friend of theirs was honest enough to describe the flavour of an e-liquid I had in my room, and there was no way that they could’ve known that unless they could leave their body. Through these confessions from people who had – without ANY consent – invaded every concept and illusion of privacy I have ever really needed in order to survive – I was finally able to accept that everything I’ve experienced is real. So I’m telling you now – I do not tell lies. I am not mentally ill. The World you live in is nothing short of a lie.
Abraham Hicks says that words don’t teach – as always Abraham is right – but they do trigger the realisation of the truth to look out for. I know part of my purpose is to find a means of explaining the truth, but I know there are people who already know some truth. And if for example, you are a Doctor that can leave their body – how dare you take an oath and then allow people to be filtered into a place like a psychiatric ward to live a lie that you’re being paid to force feed them meds to believe.
Ultimately I feel pity for any Doctors that specifically lied to me. They will have to answer for it sooner or later. (I accept apologies in the form of verbal or written communication and cold-hard cash.)
In one particular ward, a Doctor masquerading as a patient sat with me and I said “Someone is about to die” – and they did. That interaction was documented. You can live a lie if you want to but you can’t run from the truth.
Some place else my inner being left His body to incarnate as me.
“Me, a name I call myself”
I am one of a Pleiadian three.
More than anyone I’ve ever met – I’ve been the kind of person that needs a lot of evidence to believe anything. I believe that means I’ve manifested a life that will force me to prove things for everyone else too.
I’m kind of learning that the physical body is a portal for travelling time & perhaps dimension, but I’m not certain. Imagine that throughout the Universes, even throughout this Planet – you have bodies that your inner being (made up of many inner beings) bounce between to catalyse the growth of the collective consciousness.
The most important thing you can learn about being on this planet is that although there are some consistencies – such as suffering in varying forms – you’re here to have fun & live your dreams.
I look really bad in the next photo but my vision is less about the over-all image and more about the little details. Or… I guess that is the lesson I’ve learned through having eyesight that causes me to struggle to see into the far distance. Basically I couldn’t focus on the moon if I wanted to, without some kind of visual aid. I’d be better off observing the moon by looking at my finger. A psychic I visited once in Kent told me that there was a significance in my finger print – that I’m a self sufficient eco-system. My finger print is a perfect echo of circles. In the middle is a circle, and then a circle surrounding it, and a circle surrounding that circle – etc. In various physical details we can find deeper truths about our inner selves, that is why it is important to wait to understand yourself before you get plastic surgery.
For example – if you are insecure about something because of someone else – that is not a good reason to get surgery to “fix” it. If you are insecure about something because you genuinely feel that is not how you are “supposed” to look – that is a better route towards finding the right reason to change. For example – if your proportions are wrong and you truly value symmetry. My nipples aren’t symmetrical! My right nipple is a lot bigger than my left one – so, that means that my ovaries probably aren’t symmetrical. That also means that throughout my entire inner body – I’m probably not symmetrical. That also probably means that the right side of my brain is bigger than my left. It’s nothing a simple surgery can’t fix – but if I’m inclined to invite people who are inclined to be critical about my physical appearance into my life (my “karmic” history would validate this) – changing my breasts would really only give them some other thing to be critical about. Like my feet! Omg don’t get me started on my feet, I could write a 10k word essay on my weird feet. (But: my feet are PERFECT for ballet – my knees… aren’t.)
(Funny story… my knee dislocated in a traumatic incident running in the rain – the muscle on my outer thigh pulled my kneecap out of place, my leg locked and I fell onto cement, ON the kneecap – and that was synchronised with the collapse of the twin towers.)
I can’t understand how I got a double light reflection in my eye with two different colours. Ofcourse I changed the colours around when I edited the photos but that still doesn’t explain how the photo turned out.
Here is another “bad” photo of me with super greasy hair. Did you know that not-washing your hair allows it to produce healthy oils that condition your hair?? Did you know that in the 90’s it was super hot to have unwashed hair? Like, not giving a shit about your appearance was super fashionable. Have you ever watched Kurt Cobain live?
He is one of the sexiest human beings that has ever, ever existed. Hot is a vibe.
Y’know it’s difficult to write about this stuff because I guess it’s potentially embarrassing. Embarrassment is mind-control-residue from societal conditioning. The shame Eve felt about her body when she ate that apple.
I go on about it a lot – but I get really upset when people insult people that have the guts to show body parts we’ve been taught to hide with clothes, on the internet. It’s common with vloggers, streamers – keyboard warriors who get really angry & political when a girl gets her vagina or something out online.
Your job wouldn’t exist without the veterans who got naked on the internet. There was a time when girls who got naked online were the original “internet celebrities”.
Did you know I was the first person to use tumblr to write about sex? I deleted a pretty celebrated blog because of a guy who hung around for three months, who judged me for it. He used to attack me a lot sexually – I mean, he read the stuff I’d write or see the photos I took when I was by myself and expect that confidence of me in person but he never really understood that sex requires a lot of trust, a lot of feelings he had never learned to create with even his closest friends. And because our relationships are cyclical, I kept meeting guys that would try to control me and stop me from expressing myself at all. My TEEN dream – I’ve been posting nudes online since LONG before it was legal for me to (In the UK we are acknowledged as being able to consent to have sex at sixteen, so lets assume it was around about then that I started being what everyone calls an internet-slut) was to direct Erotica. It was never really about sexuality though, although I think people never really understood that. It was just about finding a real beauty in the depiction of the female form, and I guess when I looked at girls who were comfortable getting naked online – my favourite bit was reading their blogs and/or listening to them speak. I believe that personality is an art – and when you’re on a site with a bunch of gorgeous naked girls, the thing that makes you valuable is your mind. I’m forever nostalgic over the golden age of the internet, a past when I was captivated by SuicideGirl blogs. When the web-craze was to be different, not to do the same thing-differently.
Some of my favourites: Manko (THE inspiration behind THAT Vice photo), Reagan, Venla, Nemesis, Cherry & Twwly
And believe it or not – like it or not – these women had a collective part to play in whatever your idea of beauty is now. And they kinda unknowingly?? raised me.
Y’know how you think “normal” looking girls with tattoos are acceptable and super sexy? That’s because of these softcore pornstars. People used to get treated badly if they had tattoos.. ridiculous, I know.
Here is me doing the internet-slut dancey dance in tights. Which FYI are my favourite thing to wear.
I met this gorgeous girl in Copenhagen who told me she had “kinky” sex at a party, and she told a guy to choke her and he got weird about it. She told me that this guy was going down on her and then got weird cos she was coming off her period. Some version of me would poeticise the whole thing, and try and find a kind way of saying you need to learn how to create trust between the people you’re intimate with. I told her that this guy was intimidated by her telling him to choke him – and I stand by that – but what I should’ve said was “How the fuck can you trust someone you’ve just met with your LIFE?”
Older me wouldn’t bother with all that.
Older me would say this:
If you find someone you would like to have “kinky sex” with, understand that “kinky sex” is psychological. this means that your interaction stays with them for life.
do not stalk the person, do not lie to the person. do not rape the person. do not create excuses to justify being a coward – that means – be upfront with the person that you are interested in them and start off by being a friend. and be genuine. and if you don’t know how to be genuine that means you do not know yourself, and that means you should not be having “kinky sex”. there are different kinds of pain you can inflict on a person and some people enjoy pain, but there are some kinds of pain that you absolutely should never inflict – you cannot possibly know all of those (you’d imagine that some are common sense but maybe not). therefore if you are not a person who has learned how to say sorry and truly mean it, you are not ready to have “kinky sex” because you are either socially retarded or an infant masquerading as an adult.
infants and retards are not suitable candidates for ANY kind of sex. (I can say this as an infant who engaged in a lot of weird sexual activities and still, until this day, gets the occasional flashback & uncomfortable eye twitch)
1. do not have kinky sex with people that you wouldn’t take a liquishit in front of. There is one person I have ever sat on the toilet in front of – in absolute pain – I was on my period. My period makes my body erupt in the most violent liquid-diarrhoea – and I vomit too. It took many, many years to be okay with a guy seeing me in that light. And until now, we can both laugh about it. At the time he was just freaked out that the human body could naturally experience so much pain – and produce so many liquids – AND SMELLS – from every orifice he had ever penetrated.
2. do not have kinky sex with someone who thinks rape is acceptable. If you have rape fantasies, without judging – you are not a suitable candidate for kinky sex. I’m not judging, but you are perpetuating a terrifying, archaic fantasy that non-consent isn’t harmful. If you’ve ever really been raped – most people these days don’t even realise it because guys often just drug your drink – your capacity to trust is forever lost. If something has happened once, it has happened numerous times.
3. do not have kinky sex with someone you do not think is hilarious. do not have kinky sex with someone who does not think YOU are hilarious.
The bigger version of my ass is on my tumblr.
4. kinky sex is preceded by years of mutual psychological exploration
5. the “sub” is always the dominant one
6. do not dominate people unless you want to make them feel amazing. or you will do irreparable psychological damage.
7. “treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen” <– this is beyond inaccurate. do NOT treat people who are trying to trust you (WHICH TAKES YEARS) badly. DO NOT.
8. there is a difference between a polite no and playing hard to get. if you can’t tell, then simply don’t-touch. in fact just leave the person alone and you’ll know soon enough.
Ooo Story time. Explanation deserved for #6.
So… I play a lot of mindgames. That is my thing. Always some new mindgame. Guys who befriend me know I play mindgames. They work it out eventually, atleast. This is not something I’d admit verbally, but growing up with a psycho brother (I LOVE HIM FOR IT, YOU HAVE TO LOVE THEM FOR IT) and his psycho friends I uh. learned psycho mind-games in my infancy. I get really upset about it sometimes because it made my life difficult – but ultimately it built a strength in me and that strength kept me alive.
Soooo.. I’m a prime candidate for explaining the weird dom/sub dynamic. I’ve created a lot of psycho-guys who befriended me and who … have, I think, learned to understand a means of manipulating women. As a person who believes intention is EVERYTHING … I feel like I’ve done wrong.
I sat with a guy-friends girlfriend and told her that I questioned whether I was a “Good person”, based on my friend – who I love unconditionally – manipulating her into thinking he really fancied me. This friend and I have a weird history, we’ve known each other for a long time. He and I are weird “family”. She decided that I am in love with him, and that I was making some kind of confession. Ironically, he took advantage of that stupidity. It’s all an Oscar-Wilde-esque farce actually. (I was apologising for his manipulative behaviour that I feel he learned from me… She decided I was apologising for some kind of secret romance?! If either of us were truly that way inclined she’d have never even have come into his life.)
I kept telling her how pretty she was – and meant it – she was convinced I was trying to steal her boyfriend.
She found nudes of me on his phone? Laptop?? EVERY GUY I’VE EVER BEEN FRIENDS WITH HAS PROBABLY GOT NUDES OF ME – it’s not a big deal! I’m the kind of person to send a guy nudes to ask if I look fat, before sending it to another guy. I have old guy friends with pictures of me looking 15 months pregnant with triplets on their phones.
If your boyfriend has shown you a nude photo of me “by accident” or you have come across one, it is because he is trying to make you jealous. FYI – YOU PROBABLY DID IT TO HIM FIRST.
So when I said I was concerned I was a “bad person” it is because I feel like I’ve trained a bunch of insecure-but-super-hot-psycho-guys into having secret S&M relationships of intense-feeling-play, where their partner legitimately has no idea they’re being fucked with.
Y’know that prodigy song where Keith Flint says “DON’T PLAY MY GAME”??? It’s a game of FEELINGS. And I think we can agree it’s my game now. And I have stepped out, no one on this Planet has the right sense of personal values that equips them to play with me.
Imagine if these guys raised you.. that was my brother and his friends.
It is only when there are real-love feelings that there is any value in “kinky” sex. “Kinky” sex is not for people who don’t have feelings. I myself – do not compare yourself to me – often subconsciously find guys that don’t connect with their feelings because they’ve been through so much and go through a lot of horrible stuff. Guys I have loved have done really messed up stuff to me – and often the first step to triggering their emotions is to make them feel guilt. The issue is that my “game” is over when I have sex before they acknowledge that they love me. I attract guys that have bad sex – and because it’s so easy to make me orgasm they think that they’re great in bed. A LOT of girls fake orgasms – did you know that it was only about five or so years ago when the internet stopped telling people that the female orgasm doesn’t exist? Thats with thanks to girls who blogged about sex. The fact that female sexuality is acknowledged now is because of girls who blogged about sex. If I were friends with the kinds of girls and guys that insult girls that get naked on the internet, I would tell them all of this and say “don’t you DARE bad mouth a girl for getting naked.” The only acceptable use of the word “slut” is when you’re being non-judgemental and observant, or perhaps as a means of identifying yourself.
Here’s another thing – I’ve met so many guys who had far too many opinions about sex – too many guys that criticised how girls have sex. Guys watch porn or have sex with girls that “do all the work”. Both details are fine – watch porn – have sex with girls that do-all-the-work (you know when a girl mega-bounces all over a guy? That’s not going to make her orgasm. It might make her squirt – I can do that, so I know it’s real – it might make her release lots of water – I can do that too! But lets be clear – neither of those are an orgasm.)
If you are not a girl – you do not get to tell a girl how to have sex. At University I had a boyfriend that I often talk about – and he used to have a lot of unacknowledged childhood guilt or something, he also had an erection problem. I know the girls he cheated on me with would confirm it too, so it wasn’t that he “wasn’t attracted to me”. (A lot of girls are made to believe that they’re responsible for a guy’s capacity to orgasm – wrong.) In the space of two seconds he could lose an erection that was pretty pitiful in the first place. But I never made him feel bad about it. And there was no fidelity in our relationship. I used to fall in love with people all the time, he’d cheat physically. See – he was having sex to scratch an itch and more so, make him feel good about himself. If that is why you’re having sex – you should not be having sex at all.
He used to talk to people about me sexually – he’d say things like “She doesn’t move” etc. He never discussed that with me. If he had of done, I’d have informed him that I might make him think I don’t move – but there’s no other way he’d have been able to make me orgasm unless I was guiding him. Also I’d have explained that this is my style. Frankly if you can’t communicate about sex with the person you’re fucking – don’t have sex with them. Most people on this planet shouldn’t be having sex at all. Shouldn’t even be thinking or day dreaming about it.
Above photograph taken by ArAKi.
If reading this kills you, good, it should. If you think you’re great in bed.. you probably aren’t.
I don’t care how much porn you’ve watched. Porn is not the answer to people with sex related questions.
This ex and I started meditating together – nothing pretentious – we’d just put a guided meditation on at bedtime to listen to while we slept. After some time, on one occasion he got an erection and it was like his penis had grown by inches. But I had never insulted his penis the way he had insulted me to MY friends – and the thing was that my friends were comfortable with expressing their sexuality because of me. One of my friends had a sex-blog, inspired by my own. And she had an abortion – which she discussed on her sex-blog. Fucking brave.
People thought I was “sexually repressed” and that wasn’t it. They were projecting. And their understanding of sex was ALL WRONG. But when you’re any kind of minority, a majority talking about you will always make you feel weird. Don’t have sex with people you feel insecure around, don’t have sex with people if even the furthest distant thought in your mind tells you not to. Don’t have sex with someone you don’t trust with your life. Sex is not a trust exercise.
If a guy is criticising you over your appearance, or you start to feel insecure (y’know, that thought-trap where you start becoming hyper aware of everything you think is wrong with your body) Get the FUCK away from that guy! Keep fucking-off until he understands that it is not acceptable to judge your appearance.
If you trust a guy enough to let him put his tongue near your vagina (and I don’t know why you would – I don’t care how long you’ve been together for) and he has the audacity to verbalise ANY criticism about your body.. get up and walk out.
Feeling insecure is the easiest thing in the World. It is EASY to make someone hate themselves. If you’re already insecure, it’s SO easy for a person to try and gain power over you by finding things wrong with you – you know your insecurities off by heart – you like this person, so really you don’t want to argue with them, you already agree. If a person triggers a negative thought pattern, don’t have sex with them. Sex is non-physical before it is physical, that means your thought-scape is a really good indication for whether you should be having sex or not.
The sex won’t make you feel good about yourself. It is SO easy to insult yourself and explain or justify why and how you don’t look perfect.
I personally find that boring. The only good reason to insult yourself is as a last resort – as a means of making someone else not-feel insecure. But don’t be obnoxious about it
So here’s my “spiritual love story” – my personal “Twilight” saga. I have what hippie-spiritual folks might call a Twinflame. We all have one but most of us are nowhere near in the right phase of growth to find them. He’s a fragment of Jesus Christ and on the 7th Dimension (No one’s ever really been able to talk about it because no one’s really reached that part of their inner selves yet – don’t worry, at some point I’ll reach the confidence and level of communication with my inner collective to be able to HELP you to) he’s my twin. He managed to find me because I was a blogger on a pornsite called “GodsGirls” as Magdalene. My account was deleted. He’d see these really cute photos of me online and then he must’ve stalked me or something and I didn’t look like the photos. Basically – he never wanted to pursue me because he thought I was ugly. That was kind of okay to me because I saw lots of photos of him all over the place when I was growing up and I wasn’t remotely interested in him. Abraham Hicks would say that we were on two different vibrational fields and that was why he wasn’t attractive to me. My Oracle would say that we had a very difficult karma – it’s never really been acknowledged that Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene had a physical relationship – and it’s always been a mystery to me as to why. Lets start here – He was a Mediterranean looking Jew. Darker than most of the Renaissance portrayals of him. She was a black Jew. Stories between twin flames stay the same. So if I’m not with my twin because of my appearance, that is how it has always been.
I’m ok with it. Firstly my Guides insist he’s actually about thirteen years old even though he’s physically about 15 years older than me. Secondly… He really isn’t the be all and end all of my personal, physical tastes.
I’d rather date a “weird” looking alien actually… And maybe some day I will
I think I made this for my twin & whoever he ends up with after his divorce
An important thing to remember though is that this is kind of – conceptually – a much more honest portrayal of how you look non-physically
There’s this bit in Troy (the movie where Brad Pitt’s accent keeps changing – love you dude) – where Achilles tells Briseis that the Gods envy mortals for their mortality. No, we don’t. You’re trapped in cyclical behaviours that keep you chained to a Planet you don’t understand at all. Gods incarnate into the bodies of people you deem “weird” or “ill” to SAVE YOU.
I’m going to make a promise here: One day humanity – if it is lucky – might get to look back on the mistreatment of beings like me and think… “wow, we really did kill god”
and in THIS world, on THIS PLANET – “god” is lucifer
When I was younger – in Dubai – my brother had a bestfriend called Shiva. He took a lot of acid and used to hallucinate a lot – he had beautiful hallucinations I’m told. I was too young to be a part of any of these conversations. If I met him face to face again after all this time I’d say Hi! I’m rama’s little sister kali
Or if you feel to go back to the Egyptian pantheon.. I’m anubis’ guardian
Accept no imitations