Sylvanna Devlin

We are told the ultimate goal of Buddhism is to reach Nirvana. A place of perfection and nothingness that only a Buddha returns from – choosing to return to earth to get others there.

To be recognized many Tibetan Llamas – reincarnated Buddhas – need items to hold and touch, waking them to who they were. But the instinct for peace and to help is there without them.

For most of us to imagine or contemplate nothingness is impossible. How do you describe the orgasmic feeling of full release? Giving up entirely and floating out, separating, becoming one with the night sky? You reach Nirvana and see stars shimmering at you, maybe even god himself. And though he has no face you can feel him smiling. Your soul spreads out, joins, becomes part of a union of god and everything with you as an individual becoming nothing. It’s like you finally found a place you belong. No location necessary, Heaven is everywhere.

It is not the crowded zero-gravity space that most people envision. No oxygen and being suffocated out. It is a single breath of god. Stardust is really where our souls belong.

The other heavens are private, with doors of healing closed though I plan to describe the experience of walking up towards Al-Sama-Al-Danya. The first heaven where you go if you have been good but your soul is injured. Most suicide victims end up there. Wounded to their core that they give up on life they must ascend through the joys of those realms till they are ready to let go.

It’s a handy name for the place we all see stairs to.

Together they are what I experienced when I tried to end my life. The first a glimpse of where I could go. Where I could be. If I tried again and this time did not end it on my own. They revived my body and my soul re-entered my body. I tried leaving one more time I suppose and saw the steps.

How do I describe three years of ever-building torment. Eight attempts to kill me through extended harassment, reality abuse and gaslighting with the smattering of torture for good measure. Four attempts to use a 24 hour period of the same with an increase in the shifting, sliding, gliding tales woven by my killer. Reality Abuse creates a narrative, gaslighting changes it. And after prolonged abuse the ability to keep track fades and you don’t know who you are talking to anymore. Who is talking about you. Who believes what or even who is alive.

Everyone is named Ryan, or Jason, or Ranna or Claire, Melody and Claudia. Maybe even Nigel. And the narrative is drawn out longer and longer until haha just kidding, actually… you think the police must know. You think the FBI have to be involved. Maybe even homeland security. This is torment. This is a house dropped on you, maybe even a city. But nothing stops the relentless abuse of the petulant bitch who wants to drive you to suicide but hides behind the words “Oh I only want to make you suicidal, not kill you.”

How fucking stupid do you think I am or are you yourself that dim witted that you do not know it a straight shot? Gaslighters drive many to hospitals, that’s the goal. It is not the same as an individual using military grade technology to invade your everything even your bathroom.

I said, and I did not lie, I would give – to a computer owned by DARPA my entire body of work and all my pictures to create an AI I dubbed “Grandmother”. I was so happy. It seems like madness, “Haha stupid bitch you believe that?” What other explanation do I have for all the abuse levied at me? Terrorist School? Or a fucking childish game no one believes is real but means my cat is constantly on the threat of being kidnapped?

No one listens because you’ve lost your mind too many times, lost your way, lost track of reality. But who could hold on to normal things like writing a book, maybe even selling it. Going out for the holidays. Learning a language. Doing belly isolations at 5:00am when you want to. Who could keep track of the real world when some cunt stole your passport, your birth certificate, your divorce papers, and no one, not once ever followed up a single objectively real complaint. Indeed most people think you have a split personality if they think at all.

So frankly Fuck you to everyone. You are either blind and ignorant or a sack of lies and disinterest. Because otherwise this would all be over. No I’m no angel right? You can’t be an angel and be experience anger, sorrow, suffering, and betrayal. Nothing is understandable if it’s not convenient to your worldview. And you want a demon in me so you feel better ignoring what has happened. Fuck you again.

I want to go home. Home to Nirvana.

But no. I’m here being torn to shreds, no wound not burrowed into, and when I heal and scab new ones are created. I rise ever again feeling like if I were made of emotion I would be covered in my own blood she digs she wounds she torments so.

“Please be patient. Please live.” How do I even know those who actually care? Or are just a way to build me up so the shit-filled-garbage bag that is my attacker can go again because it’s no longer fun if I actually die.

Look at my description of where I went and what you dragged me back into. It’s not over till I try again. But no, on a good day I promised Allah I would stay. On a bad day shit in my room moved around with angry energy and pissed off ghosts joining in.

I’m here to help you get to that perfect place I described so shape the fuck up. Because even my blog is being stolen, my words changed and edited. Nothing sacred if written by me. Not even a prayer.

I will not last and next time I try I will succeed if this does not stop.

I read somewhere that grief is love with nowhere to go. I’ve thought about that a lot lately. Is that the true crux. You love someone and they’re just not there anymore either because they walked out of your life they walked out of life permanently?

It’s an issue I struggle with. People aren’t really ever gone in my heart so how do I cope with this feeling of emptiness when I want to pick up the phone and can’t? Hold on to those I have? What about something more simple to describe?

The loss of a pet?

Some of us can’t really ever wrap around lost life. Small is almost easier to understand. There are a few standard feelings. Anger at God, guilt over those times you weren’t perfect, sorrow that you miss the warmth and cuddling of the person or pet your heart is breaking for.

There are other forms. Moving strikes me as a form of grief. Particularly not if you didn’t pick the time or place to pick up sticks. We move as kids and sometimes out of necessity and grieve where we were. And it can make us fail to appreciate where we are.

Whether you’ve lost a loved one, a loved pet, or a loved home the empty cold misery of grief clings on if you can’t involve yourself in a new home. And it may prevent you from being with someone else and you may not want to be.

I always have a cat but this time losing Tabitha could make me lose my life. She’s saved mine enough times. I can’t be without her till she’s about nineteen and had a good run. I”m hoping that in fifteen years my life is significantly different enough to survive.

I’ve almost called her Kaeli or Cybelle. And I’ve noted she sometimes sounds like Ian. And she can be as surly as Sebastian. She’s the uber cat. I can’t face life alone frankly. And that’s my pet. That’s my shortcut reason for sticking around because she loves me and may understand but would be super pissed.

Do I miss my ex spouse? With the way he treated me no. But I miss the life we had together. I miss the extended family. I miss a regular sex life. As it was before marriage. And I miss my woods when I lived in Redwood City. I miss getting up in the morning and making him sandwiches. But I don’t miss eating the not quite ripe pear core he would have tossed out the window if I didn’t say I wanted it. But I held on as long as possible. Tried everything I could. No regrets could be allowed because I already regretted too much about my life. So no. I don’t miss him. I miss there being someone. Which is different.

The grief from divorce was overtaken by grief of my entire identity. I became swarmed by loss and confusion until I gave up. We are relationship oriented creatures and conflicting stories of who someone is, how they know me, and what happened to them about drove me insane on top of gaslighting via missing, or changed objects, harassment to move and familiar filters with a different explanation every five minutes. No one really understands how that can lead to suicide. But it does.

Gaslighting kills.

My grief there is not that I couldn’t hold on, I lasted longer than should humanly be possible and I did end up just giving up. But it took years and several attempts on my life – I.E. lots of times gaslighters tried to drive me to the hospital and the way I was going was if I was going to die. No one listened what they were doing was fatal and they weren’t going to till it was. The fact I came back to life might have been inconvenient. At least for me.

Depression is the next umbrella for that level of destruction. And it was sure to take several years to solidify who I am now.

I’m more than Melissa Devlin I’m Sylvanna Devlin.

I would argue grief is not just love with no where to go but the need to rewrite part of your identity. I am the woman with the real, original, temperamental Tabitha. I’m the woman who can make a hospital emergency room shake. But I’m also the lovable ball of cuddles currently not getting enough of them! I’m still a writer by some miracle. But hacked and wrapped in cotton wool – as I may have needed – I have opinions from strangers to contend with and no ability to determine what or why.

It’s all very strange.

How do I reform this time? How does anyone when they miss their life with that loved one in it. Or they miss loving someone who tuned out to be toxic. Do I really just have the same advice? Distract yourself, redecorate, plunge your grief into work? I suppose so. Because the only thing to heal any wound is time and sometimes there will always be a scar feint though it is.

Though this section is in part exploring and sitting with your inner shadows to gain control over them, these ones you need another present for if you are going to do that. Otherwise become a moving target for your pain until there’s less of it.

Let’s be clear. Anger can sometimes be a reasonable response. Being wronged pisses us off and it alerts the fight side of fight, flight, or freeze. Though for some of us it’s a quick dovetail into the second two because we plain don’t want to fucking fight anymore. But when it comes to pure animal instinct the urge to go to war is actually one of them.

We can be better. But we have to want to be.

You may not struggle with anger the same way you see in another. Those of us with a long history of deep wounds are likely to be capable of more ire than anyone whose life was slightly more straightforward. The “hey that hurts, fuck you” response is very, very natural.

So is cancer however.

In today’s society the general sentiment is to find an outlet for your anger but then follow up with “Keep a journal.” Yeah fuck you. That’s not enough. Sorry there’s only one other place that kind of passion can go and that’s exercise. Walk it off.

A squeeze ball seems to be good for “stress relief” but really what is stress other than the desire to thwack someone hard until they make things easier. Okay, just me. No? You’re willing to admit that when stress hits it’s because someone or something is pissing you off? Good first step. Being pissed makes you stressed.

Sure anxiety is stress inducing too. But I’ll be surprised when the kind of relentless worry induced by anxiety is remotely helped by a good hard kick to a punching bag.

Anger is energetic. It’s another system that your brain flags and floods when it comes to stress hormones. That does have to go somewhere and for some of us that’s in our bodies and we are the most tense individuals you could imagine even if we seemed laid back.

It’s not like you can usually get away with saying the first or even second thing that comes to mind. It’s usually spiteful and mean and not what will cool the situation at all. Some people do lash out and their targets are supremely hurt by it. Particularly if they didn’t even know they were pissing you off.

Oh how it does no good to have no signs except a faster heart rate.

And woah if you have no safe place to walk it off.

What can you do? I mean mediation doesn’t seem plausible and casting is probably a bad idea. But energy work isn’t. Focus, channel, drop it in a rock. Drop it in several rocks. Dump that negative chi

If you are in a situation wherein you are having to do this a lot? Get out of that situation. Leave. When someone makes you so mad you feel dangerous? Does it really matter whose fucking fault it is? Get the fuck out that guy’s an ass.

Now my previous book, game over, goes into reactive abuse.  Someone deliberately needles, wheedles, pokes and prods at sore spots ad nauseam till they get the reaction they want and oh boy will that eventually lead to the hospital for someone. Usually the victim who in this case would like the angry spots left alone. Barbs and boundary crossing will eventually undo any attempt to secure one’s temper I promise you.

I go into the difference between being an angry asshole who is only an angry asshole because of the victim. Ah. No. You’re just an asshole. And someone bottling anger who keeps it under control until pushed and pushed.

Honey. We’re all going to get angry if pushed. If you can’t tell the difference you might actually be a victim. Or you’re using it as an excuse. Do you feel bad either way. Of course you do. But if you keep your fuse coiled on the floor and someone burns that up it is most definitely them.

If you get pissed off and need to be left alone and they won’t? It can get dangerous. Fucking escape.

Ultimately though it doesn’t matter who is responsible. If someone regularly makes you so angry you lash out you should avoid that person if at all possible.

But please for gods sake don’t lash out.

Say you can’t, or it’s a loved one you are otherwise attached to, or it’s your entire building and you need somewhere to live. Or today the whole world done fucked up, as far as you’re concerned. What do you do sans punching bag and does the punching bag really help?

I don’t know I just imagine kicking one so hard I knock it off but I haven’t actually had the opportunity. Screaming is bad. Trust me your neighbors mind. And it hurts your throat and you’re likely to feel bad about it later.  Going into the fae realm or the middle of the woods is an option. But there was a time I felt like I had a hurricane running through me and it turned inwards painfully so.

No energy work in the world was going to relieve four years of my ex husband.

And the woods weren’t an option either.

Well in my case I let it build till I summoned the howling winds to stop my attackers and it worked for about a day. Then I stuffed it down with all my other emotions till all the negative ones and abuse cumulated in a suicide attempt and I’ve been significantly less pissed off since.

Maybe you don’t need to let this shit get that far.

So what now? What happens when you get irate now other than take a breather? Surely like all the rest you need a mindset to cope and there isn’t a band-aide for all situations. I mean sure realizing it’s energetic helps. Just like it helps with anxiety but green misery from anxiety is a different than red hot fiery fury.

Honestly your option is exercise but it doesn’t have to be marathon running and you might not even be able to get out of bed. But working on your core will help the other limbs when you can get going but I’m advocating chair bellydancing over core sit-ups.

Do I do that? No I roll over and take a nap and hope I feel better when I wake up. But taking chair belly dancing would be better.

If sitting up isn’t an option, walking it off is far from view, can you do leg exercises? Lift and hold your legs for a few minutes? That kills your back? Even with a cushion under your bum? Okay my dear only one thing left.

Fucking rant. Rant, and rant and rant to the wind. Don’t stop grumbling in a room by yourself till you are tired enough for a nap. Tell god you’re mad at him. What else are gods for? Well a lot of things. But one of them is to listen to us fucking complain.

If you can journal? Great skip everything else.  But start with moving your body, then talking it out then settling down to scribble some pissed off phrases.

Because writing while pissed will only hurt your hands and if you do it on a computer you might send it.

Just don’t feel guilty for how pissed off you are. Sure examine why. And if you’ve been pissy lately do something about it. But don’t feel bad to a human response to being hurt or otherwise attacked. Hitting with words is going to piss you off too and you need emotional tai chi. But don’t snap back. Push back. Tell them no. Tell them to stop. But only in the event do you need to duel do you use words as weapons. Please remember that. Because tongues cast spells even when we don’t plan on it.

Just be aware some asses think you ranting is how “you really feel” and will react accordingly. It’s not. Fair. And it can be really problematic if you say “OMG I’m going to kill her!” And you’re overheard and taken seriously. So indeed be careful you do indeed have privacy before swearing to gods. Because there are some stupid smart people out there and they will take you literally.

Being pissed isn’t the same as threatening a person to their face but some people take it as such so be careful till you know for sure they’re not going to get out of joint because you are. If at all possible blow that joint before your joints need healing. There wordplay over. Don’t get even. Get mad and let it go.

Ah yes I suppose I should mention the desire for vengeance. I used to have a streak a mile long that I never did anything with but imagined giving into repeatedly. No one pisses me off that much anymore. Nothing does. But nearly dying will do that so I have an advantage there. If you dream of making another suffer it’s natural but not healthy. And here’s what I know about that. It will lead to evil infecting you.

Vengeance doesn’t actually feel good. You’re still going to be pissed off so you might  well not.

Let me repeat. Don’t get even. Get mad and let it go.

Who me? Did I do that? Yes you fucking did. And I would spend several pages saying if you did something own up to it even if it’s to the wind. You know when you’ve really done something wrong. Actually will hurt another wrong.

You do know. But I have a more important point.

Unfortunately some of us carry guilt with us our whole lives and some is undeserved or the wronged party is long since over caring.  But we still carry it with us. Or worse we’re inclined to feel guilty for doing things for ourselves asking for help, or receiving help when it’s offered.

Woah nelly that’s a lot to unpack. But you should. Most people who feel guilty for caring for themselves or being cared for are the kinds of people who care for others. But if they go down or are no longer in a position to be the helper they can’t make the switch easily.

People say individuals like me (as I’m one of those) are too independent. And I don’t know how that works, if independence out of guilt is really that independent. Most of us have to fend for ourselves when really we need others. Maybe we’re not used to help. Maybe we’re only used to asking for help from people we’re close to or professionals. But from what I can tell all of us would help a stranger cross a six lane highway like it’s the River Styx. As an example.

What the hell is wrong with us? Do we mind? No. It’s sometimes even cheering. Does it take extra energy? Sometimes but it’s ours to give. But givers don’t make good receivers. And when we do we feel bad for “bothering’ someone else.

That kind of guilt is very different from the wronged a person kind that some of us always carry. I crossed my best friend by accident and was excommunicated from an entire social circle after that. He really was a gossip and sharing my stories. He really was being treated badly. But I hurt him in a way there was no recovering from when I challenged him on it.

I still feel bad. I don’t think I was in the wrong but I don’t think what I did was right either. But we make mistakes. I miss him. I love him. There’s chemistry between us. But we haven’t talked in close to twenty years. Some people have that effect on us. Usually I have that effect on others.

If you deeply wronged, murder or something, I don’t know but guilt is the right thing to feel in those circumstances.

What can we do about feeling like we imposed on society? What survival mechanism is at work here? Why do I feel this way? Who made me feel bad for asking for help? No one? Then why do I?

What the hell is wrong with me?

It comes down to knowing limits. If we don’t know another’s we don’t know what to ask for. The word “No.” is terrifying. Worse is the idea we don’t get a “No.” when we really should. Have I asked for too much? Have I asked too often? With people you always go to for help you know they will do what they can. But caregiver fatigue is a thing and if you’re really down and out of it you need to balance who you ask and what for, and you might not be good at that.

Having your own strong boundaries is an important aspect to life but if you don’t know where another’s are that gets tricky. But we’re caregivers and by nature want to care for others who are giving.

When investigating our sadness within it’s important to address this guilt we feel for being helped. We don’t want to change our whole identities, but we do actually need a hand now and it’s not going to be from the ones we’ve been giving to usually, because they view us as a helper and we instinctively know they might get a little mad that we now want them to give back.

So others step in that we might not have helped and we don’t know why. I mean we would. Why would anyone else – other than it’s part of their identity to give. It’s part of who they are. It’s what they do.

Does it help, knowing that those offering you a hand view it as part of them? And that by accepting you are reinforcing who they are and that feels good? Of course it does. So when you’re peering at a dark hole in your navel with all the undeserved guilt for getting help you are not sure you deserve either? Just remember you are reinforcing someone’s reason to stick around every time you accept.

Okay but what about I crossed someone that one time kind? Keep it. Examine it. Recognize it. Feel it. If it’s overwhelming let time damp you down in time. But we should feel bad for hurting other people. It helps us avoid hurting more. So if you want a social survival reason for guilt it’s the thwack on the nose from god that we’re not doing our part. The problem is when we feel thwacked on the nose for no fucking good reason.

If you view it as a survival mechanism and there are givers and receivers and givers make bad receivers I suppose it makes sense. We’re upsetting the balance. And it can put you in tears. Those receivers who are used to givers think givers can “handle it on their own”. Because they always have. When they need help they feel their left to flounder, because those they can turn to always give but don’t get and that doesn’t seem fair now you are in the reverse position.

What we need is a new societal model that’s not so damn binary when people balance giving and receiving but I’m not fucking holding my breath that there won’t always be some people who only take. What I need to address is the valid feelings of those who always give.

Look we know what you’re afraid of becoming because there’s always someone with a perpetually open beak you don’t want to be like and chances are you don’t have good examples of someone who both gives and receives. And I can say try receiving gods love first. And sure it works for some. But for those left in the cold by that they need a new mental model. A new identity. And I bet thoughts are “Good luck with that.”

Well really you do need to adjust your self view to accept help without feeling bad about it. Just don’t become a maw of need and realize, be fully aware that those helping you want to help you or they wouldn’t be doing it. And those assholes you always help and make you feel bad if you ask for anything are fucking gaping maws and it’s them not you.

Or in other words, it takes practice, patience, and perseverance like anything else in life worth doing but you will make people happy when you ask for help so work on it. Think of is as a perverse way to give.

Okay yeah but I want time to myself or I’ve been told I should and I have hairy legs I mind and everyone else says they don’t.

Honey they need to let you take that time because otherwise one day there won’t be a you. If you feel guilty for wanting to make your own food choices, exercise habits, social interactions, take a long good look at who you are associating with. Time can be a hard thing to squeeze in and currently I have enough so I can’t tell you how to skim 15 minutes off cooking prep or something.

I can tell you taking care of yourself takes energy and sometimes you don’t have that either so you feel bad for not doing it but if someone else needs that energy you feel bad if you do.

Gods thwack remember. Most of this is learnt or built in to society but mostly because somehow we got the idea what we are doing is wrong. How do you reframe it as right? Give god a good talking to? Listen, if he’s your thing. Yes certainly. But otherwise keep in mind that one of the reasons you feel guilty is you know someone who doesn’t and should and they bother the fuck out of you.

Release them and release yourself.

Earmark time and energy for doing what you want to do. Others are going to complain but because your identity has always been to put on their face mask first and then collapse unconscious and still hear people say it’s your fault for not taking care of your own needs. Of course not you were taking care of everyone else!

You can’t put their mask on etc so forth you’ve heard it. What you have not heard is. This is your identity we are talking about. Changing that isn’t a light switch. “Oh you’re right”. But from someone who developed fibromyalgia,  seriously change that or your body will do it for you.

It’s slow and takes little things at once. Don’t announce to your family they need to fuck off for forty-eight hours. Steal time in fifteen minute increments, eke out a bit of energy for yourself, then slowly push that to more.

Chances are very fucking likely those that give to others are also bad at giving to themselves. What you have there is an identity crisis that can only be changed slowly but needs to before your body insists. You are not going to become that gaping maw you worry about. You don’t know who that will be. And I understand that’s scary. But it is better.

Why the fuck is this separate from worry? Oh you must not actually have to worry about anxiety if you don’t know that anxiety has no fucking logic to it. Because it’s a force within you not a certain aspect of life that you’ve become preoccupied with.

I mean certainly, some of our worries are going to create anxiety in us. Rather like a cup to catch water to use the same euphemism yet again. But anxiety is the stress, the fuss, the inability to stop even if you have faith and usually the need to be medicated into submission. If worry is a natural almost healthy tool for maintaining social health, anxiety is handing a doctor a chainsaw instead of a scalpel.

You cannot get anything done when anxiety has swallowed you whole. Not a fucking thing. It can make you snippy with loved ones. It can even change your perception of the colors the rainbow provides! It’s a close cousin to depression and usually wrapped up in there. And I’m sorry while faith is the antithesis to worry all the faith in the world won’t stop anxiety.

It’s not logical, it’s not reasonable. You can’t argue it away. It’s energetic and needs to be treated as such. One way is indeed medication and frankly the author has such trouble with this particular force of nature I do take meds for it and they usually take the edge off unless I have an anxiety attack.

Now I have had a panic attack so severe I thought it was a heart attack. They gave me a knockout dose of anti anxiety and sent me to get some sleep. Then my psychiatrist prescribed me everything under the sun including weed. Lots and lots of medication to deal with a toxic situation I needed to leave.

Anxiety does have triggers – and those can be dealt with in therapy. And most people if they aren’t prescribing a pill try to treat what you have anxiety about.

But here’s the trick. Once that genie is out of the bag that force is in you fucking waiting. There’s always going to be a new trigger.

Your brain figured out freaking out got it what it needed to get through a rough spot and it’s going to do that to you every time. You might be calm queen in an emergency but melt down in any other situation. Frankly even when my anxiety has literally made me dizzy I can still run after my cat if she escapes out a window.

That’s the key. It wouldn’t be something medicine couldn’t treat if it wasn’t a survival instinct gone bad. The Fight, Flight, or Freeze has no fucking idea how to handle “None of the above”. So adrenaline pours in asking us to pick one. If we don’t? Anxiety.

Yes you can work on avoiding that response over small things unless harassed over small things. Our brains learn “Fuck, this tiny mistake is going to be criticized”. So a period in the wrong spot doesn’t require a perfectionist to cause a panic attack, but you can bet perfectionism is built out of anxiety of being harassed over small details.

What can you do about it other than pop a few pills? Well as it’s energy – hormone induced energy, you can treat it as such. Which sure, I roll my eyes at the idea of mediation in a panic attack. And my choose ten things that are [adjective] trick I learnt from a trauma therapist friend really requires his soothing voice being the one to calm me down. And that’s from a full blown freak out.

One: do not be afraid to medicate. Yes we have a toxic, soma society that requires medicine to function in. But we have a toxic society and we can’t wish it away, so take your damn soma.

Two: If you can meditate or pray regularly it won’t help acute attacks but it brings everything down a notch. Prayer being easier when mediation isn’t an option.

Three: Fucking magic that shit. Put your intentions in the universe in a more than wandering out loud and hoping for it. Maybe you don’t get what you are asking for. But maybe you get what you need. And if nothing else it will cool your tits enough to cool down your anxiety.

Four: Energy work. Yes exercise if you can, but if you can’t learn to control the flow of energy in your body. Imagine your anxiety as a green force that is neither good nor evil but is indeed destructive. Slowly work on changing that force to a different kind like white light or black wisdom.

Five: Sit it out and sleep it off.  No I’m serious. Everything from get high and watch anime from taking a fucking nap. When it comes to anxiety there are occasions you just need to let it run its course and relax after.

Six: Fix. The. Fucking. Problem. Once those tatas have chilled the fuck out, do something about the fucking trigger because the brain will likely register that as a successful fight and then get you to sleep off the adrenaline.

Seven, and last: In an acute attack be kind to yourself that at some point someone made such a big deal over a missed period, that lead to a bad grade, that lead to a tirade? Missing a period now has those ball bearings running along a track just ready for the Big Bad Monster of being yelled at or bullied to come crashing in.

Ah learned behavior. How helpful you are to us as adults. And parents stop being assholes. Thank you. Years down the line your offspring is going to bitch about a dirty table to their kid and cause tears. Stop the fucking cycle. Thank you.

Now back to the pagan idea of this is all for your magic. Sigh. For Christ’s sake there are other reasons to go pagan than witchcraft. Joke intended. But since most pagans want a little witchcraft in their world or at least are both we’re going to address the philosophy that shadow work makes for good spell work.

I mean yes it does. But our shadow selves can find an outlet in spell work too, and that’s just as valuable. Not just in casting magic for intentions but following any form of ritual is going to soothe the beast within. Not some “have a pot of tea” crap. But “have a pot of tea, gaze into a mirror to witness your mood’s expression, ring a bell say a prayer” kind of ritual.

And that’s provided you have a pot for tea, loose leaf tea, a bell and can summon a prayer. But the idea is the same. Most witchcraft that uses traditional tools has an investment phase and it’s not always feasible. You need shadow work anyway.

Just remember anxiety is a force and it can be caused by worry but isn’t actually the same thing. Worry is an idea. Anxiety is energy.

By request as I’m in unusual circumstances. Some looked at what they were doing and questioned their place in life. Maybe watched a ball roll from an invisible force so they realized these things are real.

Stop pooling that fear and anxiety that you are evil. What you do is not right, but the other energies involved attract that malevolent force staring at me right now. Talking about evil and what is and what isn’t draws curiosity we don’t want.

I’m attracting the gaze just by bringing it up. So no. My gaslighting friends, you are not evil. This is a job. It pays well. It’s not good. It can scar you. But worry less because you’re drawing eyes that would like to goad you into worse spots.

Okay sure Sylvanna, but you committed suicide. You tried to fucking die. Not a half hearted attempt either, but grateful yet annoyed it didn’t work till you found anything, any reason to live. Gaslighting is what sent you there.

Yes, gaslighting of my whole family, some friends, ever building harassment for three years, intense gaslighting for two years, homelessness, hacking, torture (not gaslighting), and eight attempts to use sound to kill me? Did end up tipping me over the edge with just “No one can survive all that.” I agreed and we both feel bad about it.

What am I supposed to do? Sit and stew with attractive anger? No I’m supposed to rant to the gods, and settle the fuck down once it becomes clear this is indeed fucking real.

Once settled I became a lot less volatile and so did the situation. Those paid to hassle me eased too. With help the whole thing became easier to cope with. Which is not what my (her) self proclaimed nemesis wants but what the hell? (Maybe literally I swear I was being watched)

I will get swatted again. I know it. But my dragon temper is better suited to actual, physical self defense then swearing at strangers. Though I might swear at god because “Not again.” I mean come on. How much more do I need to survive?

What she’s promised she will do because dropping a house on me isn’t working so I’m going to cling to god and prayer but that’s beside the point. Are the people keeping me awake evil. Really? No.

Is it of evil when lashing out? When enjoying the release of frustration on another (usually unwilling) person? No. Surprised right?

I mean it’s not exactly good. It can open a window to more dangerous forces creeping in and consuming you. But it on its own is dangerous to both of you. Scarring as it is, it pays well and is better than not having work. Those that gaslight have usually lost faith in humanity or at least the person painted as an arse who seems like a “fair target”. Not that the act is fair but frankly from those whose other option is hunger to one being supported enough to eat, the resentment is at least understandable.

Is it evil working for an individual who likely is acting out of Malice? By per se the one my allies are trying to stop? That’s some out of a job and they are naturally conflicted about whether they want their boss to stop. But some probably feel that way about working for certain politicians. That conflict is not a bad sign and is understandable. But it really depends on what you’re asked to do vs what you’re willing to do. I mean keeping me awake could get bothersome, but I’m not mad. Does just pestering sound like a fucking force? No.

I have advice. But it’s going to be when I bring this up again later. Meanwhile everyone try to chill. Targets are indeed likely to rant and swear and human arrows are likely to want to swear too. You may even fight which does no one any good. But we all need to get used to the idea that some acts are not good, usually morally corrupt and attract the horrible, malevolent, vindictive force that watch’s for an opening at every turn. But not on there own evil.

Evil acts? They scar. So can acts that simply are not good. But they don’t make you evil. Not even crimes of passion. We can turn to good at any time. Turn to god. Pray to be cleansed of the energy inside us wounding our lives. But for some, that is when they get a better job. That does not make them evil that makes them facing hunger otherwise.

May Allah protect your soul, and you find more satisfying work soon.

Is that a prophet?

No. Prophets are decided by history not the writer/speaker.

A a peaker is a personality arch type of which there are 7. People can be any or all of these, and change through their lives which one is dominant.

Guardian, peacekeeper, caregiver, leader, speaker, troublemaker, follower.

No one wants to describe themselves as followers but there are definitely those it is the dominant part of their personality whether they’re willing to admit it or not.

It’s a psychology theory I’m still working on. But those who have heard me refer to being a “speaker” probably wants to know if I add “of god” to the end of that. Well yes, it may be true I often have words god would want said, I am not here to establish a religion. Only a framework and sign post to those who do actually speak gods words.

They can be found in Islam – the greatest prophet of which being Mohammad – or those who documented the Christs words. Atheists who do good can certainly find a pleasant surprise in the afterlife if they can’t let go and don’t go to Nirvana. St Francis as pope, while not distinguishing the forms of heaven, said as much.

We agree there. That fits what has been shared with me. Do other-worldly sources often tell me the answers I give? Certainly and my dominant personality has had to shift from Guardian to Speaker among which there are “no small writers”. But not everyone has all of them and some do not have to change their everything for which is strongest.

You are looking for Gods words? They are in the Toroh, the Orthodox or Catholic Bible, and the Quran. Please do explore as all paths lead to good. God inspires my words, God occasionally answer questions. But my blog and the book I’m forming with my posts have my explanations of the answers I am given.

Allah is still with me. He still wants that book. And I still promised him to stay alive. But it’s not from prophecy but from my soul.

Allah would likely smile if I asked for a vision he has not already decided I needed. These words are born of my everything and conversations with those guiding me. Many human.

I’ve had many experiences, many adventures, some preferable, some not, I am pulling together what I have learnt and that’s mostly that while I answer many questions, God is better at some best left to him.

“Why worry?” Oh I don’t know, climate change, terrorism, Moores Law, pick a problem there’s a lot to stress over and if you have the weight of the world on you that’s pretty fucking heavy. Just looking at cybersecurity news made me convinced what the world needed from me most was better security.

That did not answer what I needed most from the world, and what it really fucking needs is some damn cooperation and I have a better chance of that studying psychology rather than mathematics. Don’t get me wrong. I love geometry. But I’m behind the times and rusty as fuck when it comes to variables and formulas.  But people, while evolving rapidly and in tandem with technology look different from theirs forebears.  Some things plain don’t change and those I can comment on. Maybe even convince.

Generation z is known for being cooperative. But here’s the trick. In their youth. The older you get the more set in your ways you become even if that way is flexible compared to most. Indeed flexibility becomes your way and you get annoyed at others for failing to have that much.

What a lovely soup.

One might ask. “How can I avoid worrying” – you can’t, please don’t. Instead ask, “How can I avoid letting my worry consume me?”

First of all it’s not a bad thing to care. It really isn’t. When it becomes anxiety it’s an issue but that’s next. Worry is a social mechanism, if we don’t concern ourselves with each other how to we protect our love ones. If we will not worry over our own lives when we are in peril what is wrong with us?

Frankly I’m one to talk. I’m worried about the whole world but don’t give a toss if you want to strangle me to death. I need a different balance I think. But it’s a bit like walking a beam. Fall off and I’m drowning in a suffering world with little concern for if I can personally swim.

So how do you cope with knowing five ways to end the planet and hoping no one else gets tempted. I mean five ways to cause chaos for a few years I suppose. But it’s enough that western civilization or even the world could be brought down by social engineering and lack of security.

One can’t hack the atomic clock. One could, theoretically hack the computer(s) interpreting it. Try not to worry about all the damage lack of a schedule can cause and while appealing to some stock markets would crumble. A lot of computers wouldn’t even work. That’s a pretty important building to have nestled into the heart of a small college city. But that’s where interesting weather is and they study that down the road.

Method number one.

This is why Elon was brought on. That and Trump needed help.  But mostly we need a technologically savvy administration if we want to avoid judgement day.

Or I know. How about don’t piss off all the geniuses because patterns are noticeable and so is deviating from them. I drove my father insane because I began to feel tracked and kept changing. But it was eventually likely predictable in what way.

Oh how I must flag about a minute a day.

But here’s where we are coming to.

There are entire departments of people whose job it is to worry and make phone calls when worried enough. That’s what they do. They double check what a computer thinks, they train it to help them more. And they watch what it spits out. There are research departments who bring on people who each worry about a different individual aspect.

Worry about supporting research because that leads to solutions.

If it’s your job to worry?

God do I understand someone snapping, “stay in your lane.” Now anyway. I didn’t then mostly because I hadn’t made the mistake of thinking of ways to end the world. And I knew a hell of a lot less about cybersecurity. 

I didn’t understand and was a bit hurt. And while kind of a rude thing to hiss at someone the meaning is the same. Let others compartmentalize the worry for you. Worry about your plot of land first, and how it relates to another’s plot of land. Family first, then friends, then neighbors, then if there’s one worth speaking of, the government. If it’s your job to worry. Worry over your part.

What if it’s your job to oversee and connect the dots everyone else is worrying about? Because forget leaving that to a computer ever. Well my best advice is to really find someone to worry over you so you can worry over everyone else. That’s not always feasible but is a better solution than just “toughing it out” because that will always lead to “burn out.”

How do you avoid becoming a cynical bastard that only sees misery and darkness and the awful things human beings do to each other? How do any of us but particularly if you are in healthcare, policing, or intelligence?

Umm.. give me a sec. Hang on.

No really that one is really difficult because it’s highly personal. I can’t answer everything with, “Get a god.” Well I can. And they do help. But it rather leaves a lot of people I love out in the cold. And frankly since gods use people to perform miracles sometimes putting our faith in each other is a better bet.

We do need faith in someone. Ourselves, each other, a higher whatever. Faith is the antithesis to worry. We need to believe our problems are preventable or fixable. We need to believe we make a difference. We need the rather comforting idea that we are helping for a reason other than a comfortable life. Because all the wealth in the world won’t stop emptiness. And if you are at all the worrying kind, you likely don’t have all the wealth in the world.

But what if you’ve lost faith? The world is not kind. You are not protected in the way you thought you were. Fuck gods, where were they when my cat was dying of a maggot infestation? As an example. Maybe you’re protected in a different way that is just out of sight. Pick an organization manmade or religious in orientation we do have safety nets they just don’t catch all of us. But they do sweep up enough.

What if you’ve lost faith for another reason? The world is not kind and it’s your job to protect others. You see shitty behavior day in day out and you don’t have a guiding light.

For fucks sake find one. Can I shine my torch brightly enough for you to feel this is all worthwhile? Can someone? Find someone you are doing this for. Because the worries of the world will consume you if you lose faith in humanity. I know. Recovering from death was an unwelcome experience. And all I could think about were the miserable bastards hurting each other. The miserable bastardly things done to hurt me. And that frankly the gods were bastards too.

But three weeks in the hospital, another three months recovering from giving up taught me that people do try. But they need to know you’re hurting. Unfortunately some people don’t fucking listen if you’re not screaming your head off in pain. And some people don’t realize what they are losing until their loved one loses their life over loss. Sorry bad time for wordplay but we’re talking about worry and faith here, and what is suicide but losing faith in everyone and everything. Coming from someone who loved everyone and everything and some people more than most that’s quite a fucking fall.

So what to do shadow boxer who is looking to recover a little from being the world’s worst worry-wort? How the fuck do you have faith when you’ve seen the ugly underbelly of life and “just don’t think about it”. Seems naive and unappealing.

Here’s the bad thing. You’re going to need some faith.

In god is convenient, but not necessary and not even always plausible let alone possible.

In your social environment, family, friends, neighbors, government is nice at whatever level you can achieve.

In yourself? That’s what you’re left with? Yuck.

Sorry welcome to the whole purpose of shadow work. What you can do and what you have control over. And the base of these is what you worry about. Thus the first solution you encounter is to have faith. And since we’re on an individual basis. That means in you.

Stay in your lane. God that sounds so nasty rude, and mean spirited. It sounds territorial and aggressive. But there’s wisdom there. Have faith in yourself first and then worry about everyone else after that.

How?

Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t know. This world seems pretty hell bent at destroying each other. So it’s super hard to believe in your own ability to survive let alone make an impact. Maybe start with a small seed. Get that low hanging fruit first. Eat the tasty, tasty peach of enlightenment when you have food in your belly, a roof over your head, clean water to drink, and remember what the hell love is. But then eat that fucking peach.

Okay maybe you don’t have to be enlightened. It helps, it certainly helps, but it’s unreasonable. But just be encouraged you made it through another day and build your faith from there.

Red flag city. I describe it in Game Over. Do they accept a hard “NO” without freaking out? No needling and wheedling, no temper tantrums and maybe not even trying to question and persuade? No they don’t? Fucking run like hell.

But what if it’s worse. What if they seem incapable of understanding that you are real, or have your own desires, or don’t do things “they would do”? Run fucking further.

Okay Sylvanna, but you ran from the parent of said stalker to another state and ended up down the road from her. Now she’s fucking worse because at least he liked you even if his, idea of love isn’t just possessive in the typical way but the “object of their affection” is regarded as equally as a favorite object.

No now I have said little daughter afraid of my shadow trying to burn me to the ground because frankly she doesn’t understand how to use her money to light the way for others! Only lead them to evil acts.

Maybe if you kill me the Gehinverer will fucking shut up? So you’re going to let the whore of babylon tempt guide and pay your way into evil?

I can’t control who she pays or what for. So far she promised to cough up for killing my cat. And she’ll find someone. And they’ll darken their soul with evil. And hell will laugh.

Look figure this out. It is indeed difficult to do. But which one of us wants you to eviscerate a cat?

Okay basic and obvious but until now she’s made others insane using military technology and sound as a weapon. All the paranoid people I met? Maybe they really were fucking hacked.

Because “Sylvanna”. Now she’s stolen my identity because “Melissa Devlin” – other.

Fuck It’s natural to be confused by her gaslighting, lies, and torture, it sure is. But I’m going to take it personally if you try to kill me.

Seems fair doesn’t it?

Don’t fall for her shit toying with others like ants. Oh she stole this post and popped it on her page? Yep. Does she understand the concept of “No”?

I’m older and despite having a house dropped on me thus far still alive. Please don’t fall for her shit.

How do you tell which is which from her thievery? Maybe don’t act till you can tell.

I’m having some trouble concentrating but recently found an additional career path to maybe writing fiction again.

I had no idea I could learn and get ASL certified and “make bank”. But in time when my name rises on a list. Right now the goal is German audio. Maybe Japanese and Greek too. That’s what I have.

We’ll see if the state of the universe is enough to do 3 at once with the reason I have to be depressed.

Anyway I have a crown originally intended for Halloween but found a mask too pretty on its own and it’s too dangerous to leave Tabitha alone! So costuming up at home will be a thing this year.

But then there’s new years. And my cat and I have a date with a boat. So the crown gets worn then or any time I feel like goofing off with it. Here’s my pixie-gaze picture I swear says, “I will haunt your next life too!”