Sylvanna Devlin

Without going into detail why or how this came to be.

I give my unbreakable oath to Our Dominus Deus. The one true god.

To stick around

To finish my atheist friendly spiritual book

And when finished

Publish at cost

Or made free where available.

Where do we go?

It’s easy to see why one would be confused by my faith. I consider myself a Wayward Druid who believes in reincarnation, heaven, nirvana, the Trinity and that Mohammed was the greatest prophet. Simple No? The closest to what I am is a western Lama without necessarily being one. That about covers it right?

What I do know is that when I gave up on life, Allah gave me a gift to remind me of the meaning to my existence and maybe help others “Get there” without “Getting out.” More simply put at I had a very serious suicide attempt and I became part of Nirvana. Some medical intervention and brief waking later, I started up the steps to heaven and was reaching for the door. Then I woke up in the ICU with a very painful, unhappy body and long road to recovery.

I could make you get to the end before explaining this bit. But no one including myself wants to deal with that. So in reverse order we go:

Buddhists got it right. Nirvana is where to stop being. You see the stars of the night sky and just let go of everything you are to become part of them. The end to struggle, pain, striving, difficulty, just… let go. It’s wonderful and perfect and unpleasant to return from if you had no worries anymore whatsoever. People dream of a place of peace and joining Nirvana is it. You ever had a dream you stopped existing and were disappointed to wake up? Yeah that but more so. You exist and don’t in a quantum version of the soul. Absolutely nothing hurts anymore.

Heaven is where you go to get there. It’s a place of healing and becoming perfect and whole before even that sends you to utter peace. Nirvana. You worry, you struggle with the mortal coil. But you’re happy and it’s pleasant and warm like a glow from a Christmas tree as you walk up to the house on a rainy day. It’s loving and kind and I have no doubts some choose to stay there.

Reincarnation is what you are stuck with till you earn your spot in heaven or Nirvana.

Can some bypass heaven and get to Nirvana? Sure. Plenty of Buddhists do. A few of those decide to come back as a lama – someone there to guide others up. And some souls that have made it are asked to pop down again to do something about the lost.

I call death Papa, the Christian god abba, my gods Iris and Bran, and the being above all of them Allah. In that reverse order till you get to a being so ancient, so wonderful he usually lets a good half help or harm the other half because he’s seen the end of the story – and the beginning.

He was there at the Big Bang, and will continue to exist after the universe shrinks back up. He is in everything and sometimes he gets annoyed. But mostly he has an aura of energy that can invade humans and persuade them to perform miracles, but he doesn’t get as involved unless the lessor gods need something and they can’t pull it off. Like surviving a death that should have ended me or occasionally sending speakers among them. Frankly I think Allah was irritated enough to answer “What happens when we die?” And then send me back.

What am I? The bottom of the pile I mentioned. I would be a normal Pagan if I didn’t believe the rest. Am I a speaker? Only Abba knows. But I’ve drunk a golden liquid from a dusty cup – well I only took a sip really – and I don’t actually know what that means but apparently it was good.

All I remember of the vivid vision was the hostess of a circle of other, very ancient men and women sitting round an earthy, large carved looking pit or well. She was clearly thirsty so I did not refuse the offer but returned the cup – offering it back to one who seemed to need it more. And there was celebration at the act I didn’t understand.

None of the vision was clear. If this was ambrosia why would the joy be at the return? I mean sure, deep in my soul it makes sense. But not in a way I could explain. This was knowledge right? Why would any be pleased that I acted true to nature, sure. But what else do I do? It was to a woman with greater thirst. Who was she? And in that vein, who am I?

I hunt knowledge like food but if I continued the analogy would indeed go hungry if it helped lift another. Is that true for what I could learn? If another sought to understand more would I accept understanding less? No. So what gives?

Oh there we go. Even knowledge must be accepted with recognition of the one offering it. Hence my belief in all gods, all spirits and a hierarchy such as described earlier. I do not however believe in all stories.

In the version of King James I read God was afraid of mankind eating the immortal fruit and becoming Gods. There was no serpent. Only curiosity. In that vein, is what Eve was known to do that bad? If Eden was a place of hunter gatherer past and she represented the start of knowledge then she started civilization as we know it. Would we still prefer picking berries? No. Sin is not real but wrong is and so is evil. And Eve did neither.

On the other hand it’s allegorical. But we seem to yearn for a time of innocence. Which may be the point. I think the point is someone – a woman – noticed that seeds dropped became plants and after a while those had berries and thus knowledge is actually farming which is indeed the foundation of everything we are. Go without books for a while and we’re bored. Food is another matter. And of course the woman was blamed for what happened next when I don’’t remember if the Bible ever pointed out who first tilled the soil but you can bet he didn’t see the point.

In my personal allegory of the vision I had. Those present celebrated what? The generosity, shared compassion, understanding of limits? Waiting for another? Knowing my place? Or that I was willing to drink and share even knowledge? Maybe all and more. Or maybe It was more simple. I did not recognize the significance of the act, merely her thirst was greater.

I think really it signified my place in things. I would be granted some knowledge but the rest was to be held by others. My place was to contribute not take over. Rather like  recognizing some advice is still good a thousand years later but not all.

That would explain the end of the vision where I saw the cup passing to her left.

That vision and the experience of death a year later put me on and set me back on my path respectively. Well maybe just the latter. I had to write a special book, that was in me at 15. But the knowledge of what I believed was not there. Or really what to believe. Indeed while answers came, it was not till one uncomfortable night in August 2025, I realized the significance of what I experienced before. The vision in October 2024 and giving up and being dropped back about a year later. One perhaps a warning to the other. There was to be “none of that now”.

It was not so I could cry and complain about how death was so pleasant compared to waking up. It was to console others and share the nature of the cycle. Over and again to live till ascending. But what about atheists? Well did you live a good life, shedding suffering as you go? Close? Boy are you in for a surprise then. Welcome to Nirvana for believing in nothing spiritual but following an innate compass of good anyway. Were you an asshole? You’re in for a surprise too, you toad.

What compass can you have without faith? Actually a lot. But that book, while spiritual in production, is intended to be foundational in nature and provide reinforcement and structure where possible. So you may find relief and comfort there. Iris is the goddess of magic which these days I call the wonder of science. So she helped. But an actual human wrote this with one hell of an alter ego! But when Allah saves you it is for a purpose and when he wants to, he delegates. So Iris helped. Who turns down gods?

Provided you believe in them I suppose.

So why believe?

Because they are there and will nag you till you do, foul weather faith, counting blessings, getting blessings, aiding and offering strength. All kinds of reasons. But mostly because they are real.

I hear you Atheists you either don’t or don’t want to consider either the spiritual or gods as anything other than a product the mind and need.

So it begs the question what are they? I used to believe we imagined them into being – maybe using that spot in the brain. That they exist because we believe they exist. Now I believe abba or Allah got creative and different gods predate the cultures they are particularly suited to. I also know our faith gives them strength – that part it is true. I just plain do not know where they come from or how they came to be.

Some think of them as potent spirits. Ancestors that have grown in strength. And for sure some that’s true. But what else explains such diversity and beliefs than a god/gods having their say? Rather like spirits and ghosts create a certain energy in the place.

Tell me why we believe in these things and diversity of faiths if they aren’t real? A part of our neurology that creates communication? How do we know it’s not making it easier to communicate?

To cement cultural Identities? Okay, you got me there. But why gods and spirits? Why not other energetic theories?’

Oop I said the “E” word. If a neuroscientist can believe it’s real. Why can’t we? Dr. Perlmutter has a book on it. And while his explanation sounds a little Star Wars at least there’s some explanation why mine is white and was gold before and Bran’s is black and for sure for the scale of energy white to black is not necessarily more than association. White is considered pure and new. That of angels is usually gold and if my energy wasn’t that, it was the silver of the fae/

It’s almost like having a new soul. Maybe exactly like. So the first to flow in comes from the collective consciousness that is part of being in Nirvana.

Back to that. Are we in our brains and body? Or is there existence beyond? Sure there is life after death but like a candle flame. Consciousness is in the body and near imprints on the soul. Indeed heaven could be seen as a place to become willing to join the pool and become part of the water. As a soul with the mind pressed in.

Am I afraid of reincarnation now? You bet I am. So listening to helpful spirits and gods seems wise as is following the path Allah set out for me. This book. This soul wants to go back and the only way is for me to act as I always have with compassion and courage.

Why is this relevant? Energy is the souls way of keeping a body going. And we agree on electrical charges in nerves but not to where that goes back. But many who believe in nothing else believe in a soul. And I’m saying that has to go and come from somewhere. The ether of air is not an option.

What is energy beyond a controllable electrical field? I’m not sure. Some of ours seem more potent than others and I don’t know why save a poor lot in reincarnation – probably for reasons. Though evil seems to give strength to some.

I don’t know why.

What does this have to do with God? Or gods? Well imagine them as an immense energetic force that can hear prayers and tilt luck. Say their name to get their attention though because if they’re always listening that’s a lot to get through. Our faith is energetic, our prayer is – and the power of prayer works in faith healing. It has been seen.

Indeed if Allah permeates everything – as he does – then what better way to describe him is the ultimate underlying force in the universe, all forces, that of motion, speed, gravity, human desires, other species no doubt. There is a good reason physics have been searching quantum mechanics for a god particle. Where the fuck does all this energy come from and why does it seem sentient? Let’s not pull in physics too much or we’ll sound like we believe in emotional water and homeopathy and we don’t. Not unless you’re taking the effect on the mind (Placebo etc) then it’s potent stuff not to be poo-pooed,

Gods seem to exist in symbiosis with us, where from? Maybe the garden of Eden and the wrong apple. I don’t know. Abba certainly seemed jealous of other gods till he decided he was the only one. But while unlikely to be omnipresent and omnipotent – as what god is – he certainly is given great power by our faith

What does that mean for us? Can we become gods? If our soul is believed in can our energetic force gain in power and we ascend not to Nirvana but to godhood? Hell no. Just because we are made of the same thing doesn’t make us the same kind of entity.

Besides what’s wrong with being human? Besides the obvious that being human sucks and Nirvana sounds lovely thank you, brief stop in heaven to help me let go. I should say what’s wrong with human beings but, as one, that list is significantly longer.

Theoretically a god, say Abba could decide to inhabit a human body and use the Holy Spirit to help hold his energy in place like a thread tying them both.

Suddenly the trinity doesn’t look so weird does it?

Souls double booking a spot could be true. It certainly would make sense I can be at peace in nirvana and here in this miserable world to try to soothe, comfort, and care for those I love, which is everyone and everything and some people in particular. I’m still going to need a stop in heaven next death. That peace is getting dented.

We should say less that life is suffering as much as life is grieving. For some both sure. But even fairly happy religious souls lose their official path when grief hits, but still behave with the goodness of the lessons they learnt while following someone else’s instructions.

There we have the roles of the son, the prophets and the ultimate prophet. Instructions.  Now it’s worth saying that those of ancient times may not have all relevant instructions for todays complications. And may have irrelevant ones. We do need to pick and choose while listening to the opinions of others either leading or on that path. But if we blaze our own we need help.

Atheists put their faith in science and I believe Iris has decided science holds enough wonder to be hers too. Magic is old, atomic structure is where it’s at. So some of us get to bridge the worlds if we really want to. And gods are nothing if not persistent. So she has the magic of science to herself thus far.

If I really make an impression that is. Gods are like that. Forget your reason for being and they’ll pile it on you. Allah wants a speaker, Abba wants to knock a few heads together, Bran wants to be loved, Iris wants a voice – thank you very much – and my more every day spirits probably want food. To help yes. But mostly food. Welcome to what’s left. I’m a battery.

What is for certain true is that prayer like meditation, makes a difference. It’s been checked but not fact checked at the time of this book. But it has been checked by multiple people and while it could be energetic, some things are on a god level and they’re fussy. They pick you. They’ll get you. Why believe? Because making it real is only a matter of faith in whatever god chooses you. So why not? They’ll only pester you till you do.

I am not exactly afraid of the spiritual world in the slightest. Though that’s me. Not gods. But out of respect I don’t go where none of us it welcome. And I am not a goddess. If I have a piece of one. maybe we all can. The scientist in me is indeed curious.

Atheists, you still with me? The good stuff is yet to come.

Reach out to someone to hear a real human voice even if it’s for a minute.

Call 988 if you have to if 911 isn’t an option.

Explanation later.

Okay what an interesting day and age. Is money the root of all evil? I don’t know. It’s an interesting question.

What I know for certain is that money is separate from a a desire to nest and have comforts. I call that materialism, not the pink Camaro version, and not the same as capitalism. Just a love for and appreciation of physical things. I also argue money is a communication tool.

Can is be used for evil? Yes.

Do people go insane over it? Yes.

It can certainly be a problem.

But so can a sword and a shield.

And the pen.

Do I need swords and shields if other do? Of course. Just these days I need help with that. Do I need a pen yes, but what I need most from you is to read what you love and see what resonates. Hopefully love what you read too.

And thinking yes, thank you computer.

Is capitalism evil?

Oh good question. I don’t know. It’s certainly problematic.

Maybe we shouldn’t call anything evil. It would be less divisive.

We formed in groups to barter goods and services, those groups settled into villages as we farmed and that was possible with exchange. At some point someone thought of making exchange easier and we went form gold, to coin, to paper to digital. Lighter and harder to understand each time. Big numbers with lots of zeros buy lots of nests so please fucking get other people into them with that! With a few comforting twigs around them.

Seriously what are we evil? Is everything we base cities on evil?

Well okay I can see why you would think so but the answer is no.

Now. Here is where Jesus was really going. Our instincts to horde are not healthy and not helpful and money seems to be in the fucking middle of that! Root no, you just cant reduce the complexity that way. But I could see why one would.

There’s a mistaken philosophy that austerity and doing without elevates on spiritually. No. Having the privacy and comfort to pray elevates one spiritually.  Just trying to survive might get you to church but it might just make you forget gods exist while you jostle for change.

There are those who think I was too proud to beg while homeless and living in my car. EBT takes an address and while a friend was letting mail go there I was too stressed out and confused all the fucking time to just call, wait on hold and explain my circumstances. So I asked my brother for help. Just occasionally. Enough for gas and apples and peanut butter. My friend let me stay there during the day and offered food while I was there. I had access to a bath. But that apartment was too small for four adults and one teenager so I left in the afternoon and stayed in my car at a rest stop. My poor cat going from bathroom to car every day. She’s calm about the carrier but not fucking amused to be in one. But I let her out while driving one day and that was an error.

On weekends I would try anything to beat the heat. Moving the car. Going to a park and finding shade. It was a miserable shitty existence and I didn’t consider praying at all.

I talking to the gods all of once and couldn’t feel them. My emotions were too tied up in waiting for housing of some kind or other. I was hounded by reality abuse which goes beyond gaslighting and dealt with the very real threat of rape by being the biggest fuck off dragon a fat 5’3 woman could be.

That’s actually quite a lot of fuck off.  I was the rest stop egg head. The

“decedent” because I swore my great grandfather was a settled Irish gypsy. But I was also the draw for noise and commotion, attention others didn’t want and some I did and some I didn’t. It was all very well for the sherif to have a soft spot for me it did not help my popularity. But he woke me every morning that it was safe to move my car and I did.

I’ve had a weird life.

During this time what I could pack of my belongings were spread to the friend and lingering, drying out, suffering the heat of a California storage unit sans conditioning.  I had very little packed away. Ornaments and books mostly. I had been suffering such daily psychological torture beyond regular imagination that I could barely pack. I couldn’t think. I could write. I lay around. Sylvanna with her head in the ground.

The circumstances were against me and I have no idea what I saved and what I didn’t. I needed a new hope candle and when I finally ended up with my own room in a woman’s building I had to get an electric one.

By then my parents were more generous and opened up their wallets again. Their austerity driven by too many bottles of wine apparently over. The grudges gone. The ogre settled and fae again.

That late summer my soul floated to others in a weird collocation thing astral projection does. I was all over. A ghost. An Angel. A cuddle buddy. A sex toy. But those faded with medication that packed on the pounds. But when I went into a room Allah tapped me on the shoulder to tell me he existed.

Who the fuck ignores Allah?

Well actually me. I still didn’t pray, but he wrapped himself around me until I was to safety. But then the gaslighting and psychological torture began again and lives were lost almost my own. But he’s patient. He allowed me to see the end of the story and then come back in this world to help others reach the good versions. Nirvana or Heaven your faith will pick. But it’s not just a case of believing.

Once in a room I slowly collected “stuff” and after my attempt my mum showered me in packages. She couldn’t come up and hug me so this was what she did. I have a home wax kit. Foot bath. Furniture because my mum wanted me to be okay. My sister is similar and made sure I was okay in Section 8 housing in a “alright” neighborhood. My cat furniture and recovery from surgery and a coma have been thanks to her.

It’s enough to make you thank Allah for family and friends. Bard twenty minutes away who let me come to his house every week day, Mary down the hall. I was looked by two of the same name. One in a car the other a shelter. A lovely lady of the houseless but wealthy history was a sweetheart to me too. A lifelong friend looked after my cat for six months, Brother Crow helped settle me in and get the cart I really needed. I fucking had help. People miracles.

That’s not including those whose job it was to help me. Particularly the one who risked her job to get me a place to sleep when my roommate became psychotic and scary – blaming me and vindictive enough to prove she may have indeed been dangerous.

I tried with her. I really did. It worked for a while but then she spent a night out and came back different. She was escaping a cult though so I am willing to give her some room her head was messed with a bit too much.

I sure know what that’s like.

The Petaluma problem was a father who consulted for the NSA, My hearing and calculations, general hacking, the water running low and a realty issue, the Sonoma situation with sex trafficking, and a neighborhood going insane from idk what, it practically formed a cult through punishment.

Add the gaslighting and thievery and it’s no wonder I couldn’t rescue everything. And since it all landed on me and I spent my nights with a metal spike in my hair I’m not entirely surprised a paranoid father found my problems too much.

But you pile that onto a woman and she becomes homeless life gets very fucking interesting. It took a real death before harassment eased and I relaxed, praying my hair would grow back. Then it began again.

Does this remotely sound like spirituality was a concern of mine anymore? No. I lost talking to my small god Bran. I lost calling on the archangel Michael. I lost the hugging gold energy of Abba I was lucky I still had love in me. But unless numb as fuck that’s not leaving my soul.

Now I’m trying to return to my spiritual life but found I needed an alter to pray before.

Back to materialism. And the flaw of abstinence. The view of most religious individuals praying to gods involved homeless and poor gathering in Catholic Churches. But a hell of a lot of us need a sacred space to focus our minds and our thoughts.

That’s what an alter is for. Focus. Of energy. Of Magic. Of Will. Of prayer. Of worship. It helps you enter a separate mind-space. Which costs money, is highly personal and requires some shopping around. These days on Etsy, before city to city esoteric shop if you could find one. Materialism. It plain is a flaw to view wanting things as evil. Some of those things soothe, some of them help you pray, some of them comfort in other ways. Life is difficult enough without the judgment on stuff.

Selfishness, artificial scarcity, excessive wealth concentration, those are problems and thanks to the eighties we think of pink Cameros as materialism, but that is not it at all. It’s an appreciation for the material. Which helps the divine not hurts it.

Buy your pretty painting. Support the artist. Buy your cookie cutter, cookie cutter, support the factory. Society formed as a way to exchange goods and we are part of the world now. It’s miserable to be entirely without. To want comfort. To need money. Not elevating. Don’t conflate fasting with going without the option of food. And don’t conflate clearing clutter as clearing the soul.

As a final word. Don’t forget materliams is about nesting not capitalism.

Materialism as a drive for capitalism is not very healthy and thus gives Attatchment to possessions a bad association. But even the Dali Lama when he was reincarnating through the ages depended on a Rinpoche to recognize him and some of his belonging to touch and remember.

The idea of non psychic psychometry – picking up memories and energy in things, isn’t well known. But many of us handle old things to remember our past. Being attached to  decorations, clothes, possessions of the past actually makes sense in that light.

Photographs are fairly new and for some awkward. They don’t capture the magic of the evening the way a cuff link or jewelry would. As popular examples of small items to keep.

We also, quite naturally, like our comforts. And if we can afford to surround ourselves with items that soothe and add to self care, of course that is also not against any kind of spiritual energy. Indeed it can add to it positively.

Materialism is viewed as negative because it is used to describe those who posses items and purchase goods instead of examining their navel. But leave them be so long as they do not take from others in the process. Let their cycle travel through. It will cause emptiness but it’s their cup to fill.

Should you fall to the material world without any kind of ethical examination you are likely to suffer for it. But not likely to enjoy this book. In the short term, forgive yourself for enjoying purchases and shed guilt, celebrating life and coping with suffering takes all forms of activities. But when you find you can’t buy enough to feel whole, examine your spiritual side and why you buy for comfort.

Do some shadow work. Set up an alter. Pray and donate what you can. If you are an atheist learn to meditate, because Nirvana is waiting for you once you start to help others with your coping. Buy gifts. Donate to shelters. There’s only so much comfort you can purchase before you need to be more generous.

Fill the cups of others and it will fill yours. Some people just like to buy. Do it for other people. End of argument.

This is by who? Oh pick a name, the original, the real, the actual, no really I’m the real original actual and I know the last four digits of my mother’s social security, no really I’m Keith Devlin’s Daughter, no really. I… am clearly a victim of what? Method acting and a few creative embellishments?

No one else wants to be Katherine of Aberdeen because I use it in a book. I could use that. How about I am Melissa Jane Devlin, but you can call me Sylvanna.

I was that fucking Sylvanna everyone took liberties with and this book and three weeks in the hospital was literally the only reason I was sticking around. Everyone worked so hard including the surgeon who saved my life, I can’t let them down now. Besides the real Iris is interested now.

Though now I want a psychology degree and my sister reminded me that I matter separately from being “twiddle pecked”. I have a better reason to cling to life.

Currently from what I can tell everyone thinks I (or we?) were conditioned into being me. Sure, yeah, why not? Because it’s possible everyone else was. But only one of us was the real, actual, original, previously known as etc, so forth. And capable of understanding the earthly world and going into arrhythmia after that. So maybe just maybe this is actually being written by one person and it’s not even that unlikely someone high up saved me because it was one step closer to saving the world. Just maybe someone no one likes but everyone needs.

Or maybe Iris sent a surgeon. Hence my attachment to a Goddess no one knows. But summons a power greater than all of my previous pieces. Fuck yeah. Melissa Devlin is a regular person, Sylvanna is an angel with fae blood existing in the same body. Iris is a fucking goddess! Weird enough for you?

All the ways chosen to discredit, undermine, and steal from me were so vicious so intense there had to be something there. And I’m one smart cookie who. Not that I know the odds of who is saving who off the top of my head, because I’m still recovering from the complications and precursor pain from one hell of a suicide attempt. Week in a coma style. Don’t do that. They will save you. And it will be permanently changing.

The slight rattling in the chest, top left above the breast? We may want to pay attention to because this world is killing us. Frankly if a computer picked me to kill off (As one of the nuttier theories I had) I’d want to find out why. My obsession with Hope probably did it.

What I do I know about this shell game of steal and share, identity theft, gaslighting, torture, rape, and more! It’s weird. What I can say of all that, is no one goes into arrhythmia because they’re writing a book. And no one lives in that shadow world if they can avoid it.

The disbelief in who I was and encountered everywhere was the real reason I had a “fine, fuck you bye” kind of death. Whose last words were “Is my cat okay?” With the last thoughts “No one listens, forget this.” Boom.

You may have tried listening after I woke but I can tell you just plain fucking didn’t believe me anyway. You’d either heard it all before. Or it seems impossible that any of my history could be real.

It’s fucking real.

Depending on what you heard

I actually chose death twice. When I sent the ambulance away and swallowed a whole lot more pills. That didn’t work

Then I gave up on humanity entirely and willed myself to unbalance my heart, and fell asleep permanently as far as I planned. But not the gods. All I can hear right now is “wait, she willed herself into arrhythmia? Fuck her.” And “Why did we bother saving her?”

Because that’s what you say about someone who swallowed enough in a combination that should have been fatal. Like how serious do you want me to get? I chose death twice in one shot, and He basically said “not yet”. So science saved me.

Thus now, the writer, known as Melissa Jane Devlin, known as Sylvanna AKA, Katherine, Michael Weaver, Eli, Nepenthe.. oh never mind I got bored. I’m also a convenient spot for an actual goddess thank you very much. If I need to be I am Iris. Do I need to?

Sometimes, yeah. But I think we all do.

I’m also Tabitha’s mom.

I have a strange life. In the background I hear music “Na Na Na Na” which I first heard in my car and don’t remember why. I had said something. Chosen to have a crush on a Michael not Michaela. Who knows. It sure sounds like quiet chaos and I fell asleep.

Voices argued over whether gaslighting killed me (it did). But they also are a little frustrated that (without describing details), I was greatly amused I might have been too pissed off to stay dead.

My heart stopped. I needed CPR and am nursing a fractured rib from the effort to save my life. I had a breathing tube down my throat. They went in one artery of the leg and out the other in a very intimate spot! They oxygenated my blood because my weak heart would beat but not do anything about oxygen.

That’s a severe level of survival. I woke up a week later in an entirely different hospital. There are records of a conversation with an entirely asleep and pissed off Angel and they simply say – don’t argue with her world view.

I don’t know what she heard. I was unconscious. And probably told her as much. But no one listens to the sleeping person having a conversation in their sleep that the timing is just a bit bad.

I went to nirvana first. Stopped existing and spread out into nothingness. Then I was woken up as a nerve block was going in. Briefly before making it up steps to heaven. A very personal place I was going to be so I could let go again.

But no. After one week skirting death I woke up again. Spent another week in the ICU and then a week recovering at a psychiatric ward.

After that my heart hurt when I moved. Rolling over was difficult. I was in and out of the hospital with complications. And my brain didn’t seem to operate correctly.

One serious “Fine Fuck Everyone” moment. Three weeks in the hospital. Two more months recovering my ability to wriggle in my sleep, I certainly hope everyone now understands Gaslighting kills. Because I ain’t doing this shit again.

Today I’m having a sleepy day as arguments seem to center on my new years plans.

I will be on the Spirit Yacht this 2025 New Years Eve. I picked out an outfit that I need to buy closer to the time as I’m shrinking still. But I have tickets. I am going. I just need to be better enough by then.

It’s good to have goals.

Game Over – under Melissa J Devlin is still available on Amazon. But sometime next year I’m going to finish my spiritual book that even atheists might like.

I probably won’t deal with the fight to go through a regular publisher with game over. Instead focusing on the “The Way of the Wayward Druid”. A working title I might not keep.

Stay tuned for writing updates and pictures of Tabitha:

Thanks for stopping by. This site it way under construction as I need to find the content I want to add. Please do, stay tuned,