An Empaths Trip To The Grocery Store.

I observe people, watch their movements,body language and even expressions.

One woman is clearly uncomfortable around a man, her body stiffens. Noticing her “gaze” is elsewhere. He stands a good 6 or so feet away from her, Does she know him? Instincts are telling me “NO.”

My curiosity peaked as attempting to sneak looks in their direction. Taking in the attractive, features of him.

I see her making a hasty retreat as her beautiful auburn blond streaked ringlets of hair bounce with health and vitality.

Meanwhile I fumbled my cell phone right out of my hand and it slips to the floor with a loud “crack.” Shit! That’s a bit traumatic, iPhones are not cheap.

“Hi” A voice says. Picking up my cellphone, I inspect it relieved for it has no signs of damage. Looking up to put a voice to the face I am surprised, for it’s that same guy who just minutes ago was staring at the other young lady with beautiful hair.

Tall, wow. started from the feet and worked my way up to a beautiful smile then hazel eyes flecked with green and gold, “Dread” engulfs me as his eyes looked dead and “fixed.”

My purse strap slides off my shoulder as I shift my weight.

“Hi” I quickly say an walk away,all the while feeling his “eyes” perforating holes in the back of my head. A bit of panic seizes me. “He is not OKAY, something is OFF.” I say to myself.

For the rest of those 30 minutes in that store, I became highly aware of my surroundings. Children’s screams and cries, mothers shuffling away with a expression of fatigue and an imaginary white flag gripped tightly around their hands. The overhead speaker crackled with announcements, making me feel as if I was on an imaginary stage with all eye’s focused on me.

An elderly woman dressed in polka dot capris and a bright pink shirt stands there with a face of befuddlement.
Looking at me she asks where the “detergent aisle” is located. I sensed she didn’t know where she was, PERIOD. Her confusion made a word appear before me: “Dementia.”

She is walking away from her grocery cart and purse , quickly I make her aware as a Lonely purse is a temptation for the dishonest.

A young woman dressed in a happy color of sunny yellow and a worried look, relaxes as she glances in our direction.

” Abuelita! (grandma) there you are!” and promptly scolds her for leaving her side.

The lights are too bright here, body on fire, need to get out as I make a mad dash for all the necessities. At the check out lane, the cashier’s boredom and apathy is clearly evident, mumbling her way through the transaction process barely fazes me, her “energy” was so dull in comparison to all the other humans in here.

Slipping the bags in each Hand while proceeding to the closest exit, I lock eye’s with the same man, nausea overwhelms me as I shuffle out like an arthritic 80 year old ignoring him.

The surprising “crackling” of thunder almost met by a scream warns me it is Too much “energy.” Within seconds (Or so it seems) large rain drops hit the asphalt, splashing, breaking creating a “fog” like climate. People start surrounding me like cattle ready to be led somewhere, waiting for the rain to die down. A boy about 3 with large brown eyes and a chubby face with chocolate tugs my lips into a smile.

And like a horrible horror movie (I think “Ground Hog”, with an evil element) “HE” appears out of nowhere,that’s it.
Not only is the crowd enlarging but this guy makes me feel “ill at ease.”

Making a hasty retreat through the crowd I go Into some military type “mode” grabbing car keys, checking to make sure all is secure and pin pointing my car and the path to get there.

Swiftly taking off my glasses I step out into the showers that sustain life.
The next few minutes are amazing as the water pours down my face and soaking my medical scrubs, the warmth of it feels magically surreal. “Peace” wraps me like a warm blanket.

Quickened steps slow wishing it would stop time, the smell of it overwhelms the senses. I guarantee that If the lightening did not streak across the sky like a menacing bully, I would have stood there until it ceased.

One friend said it best “Rain is purifying.”

It certainly is…..

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The Memories Of The”Seven”

My mother tells me my father had 8 bottles of different liquids when I was a baby, “Just in case” I angrily spit out the 1st…..

Looking back I remember Mom almost burning down our house several times, once was by leaving a pot of pinto beans cooking… She left and the military police , fire department came to put out a “fire.”
Not only that…. Pinto beans STINK when burned. I think all of us smelled like that for church and school, my mother shrugging and denying she left anything on, “faulty” wiring.

The first time I laid eye’s on a microwave Was 16 years old,it was the size of a bus and my Mom proudly displayed it. Within hours, I zapped a huge hole in it. Found out metal forks were not compatible INSIDE the microwave as I turned the button to “ON”….Mom was Pissed. 😦

Then of course who can forget the story of my brand new baby sister in the car, snuggled safely after church, mom and Dad Overjoyed as they “zipped” off home. Meanwhile I was busily looking in the darkened bathrooms at church crying, the nice pastor found me, and called my parents when they got home.
Oops.

The story of me rolling my newborn baby sister under the bed is a classic. I don’t remember that, but I do remember the “wailing” under the bed. ( I have since apologized)

Looking through pictures I see a “Eyeball” that’s confusing. Dad is explaining between choking laughter that my mother did not know how to use a camera and took a picture of her eyeball several times, she was a grown adult. Giggling at the story Mom just glares at my Dad.

My haircut techniques as a 5 year old were not appreciated due to the fact that my sister was my patron, eyelashes were involved, but they were my own. Miracle I didn’t stab my eye out.

Mom was no better at haircuts,dad would groan at the crooked bangs we sported and he quickly whisked us off to the border in Juarez to get the disaster fixed.

I have three younger brothers and yes my sister and I tortured them. Well, maybe the 2 oldest, the youngest was still a baby. My father was in the military, so pets were a NO NO (though we ended up with some when he went away on the boat)

The solution? The 2 oldest boys became our “pets” I know they are relieved there is no evidence in pictures of “neckties ” as leashes and Moms good bowls used as “Doggie Bowls.”

There was that one time all 6 of us piled in the car after grocery shopping, parents chatting away ignoring the pounding of the window from one of my brothers running beside the car. Uh, there’s 7 of us and they forgot one.

We were popular in the neighborhood. I even had the GENIUS idea of popping off the screen to the kitchen window and told all my friends to “drive up” to the window. Playing “McDonalds” got us in a shitload of trouble, the fridge was cleaned out.

Then I discovered “Dumpster Diving!” so exciting to bring Mom pots and pans proudly announcing my “treasure”and reeked of it too. Not appreciated just an FYI. Hmpf!

Cleaning military houses can rake in good money, Mom and Dad would haul us as we whined the whole way, Dad overseeing us and Mom hollering commands ended up with Dad mixing ammonia and bleach. He caught it on time as we were whisked out of there, Mom irritated and us kids caused a huge dramatic scene. (Okay, maybe I did)

These are just a few of the many funny memories my family has created. Not a perfect family,normal ups and downs….

But you know what? The good always outweighed the bad. 🙂

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A Curious Wanderer Wondering.

It is possible to feel invisible right smack dab in the middle of a roomful of people. I’ve walked straight ahead looking at none and feel them, maybe even eyes on me, yet I feel invisible.

In times past my eye’s notably saddened my heart seizing into a tight grip to the feeling of loneliness.

Why is it as time seems to accelerate the pitiful pain of loneliness diminishes?
Let me explain, I always needed someone by me to assure me they cared for me & never left my waking side. A sick co-dependence of sorts, and when they left whether on great terms or horrible ones I’d crumple in a corner and repeat “Oh… My life is over”
Like some overly dramatic vaudeville actress in a stage before thousands.

Have I now reached a point in my life where I have subconsciously given up? Or is my spiritual being transcending to some sort of spiritual enlightenment?

I certainly am not that person I was 15 or so years ago, and there are times where panic an loneliness engulf me.
Being single with two children has profoundly changed my life, for I can tell you… There have been times The “mask” of hiding a loneliness have been shattered by the smiles those two give me.

There will be a time when they will walk out of my home, smiling and waving as they each start their own lives. I have sacrificed with much love my life for theirs. For there are few men out there who would fully accept my children as theirs, and I cannot obligate anyone to love them.

“But if they love you, they will love your children.”

I have yet to see that, but admittedly do not search for it. For there was once a man who I knew as a young man. And he proclaimed to love me,manipulating my children & myself.

Intuition was right and I blindly chose to ignore at the cost of them. Thankfully it has been forgotten? Not so, ask my six year old son.

And yes, I got caught up in the “moment” and the euphoria of it all.
In the end, THREE hearts shattered.
Those brown eyes who trusted me filled with tears.

Making a pact with myself & swallowing my tears, I decided to live only for them, my life is second. Who needs more heartbreak with two little ones in the midst?

In the very end of it all, I want a loving relationship, but I am not desperate, I live humbly, embracing my simple life and the two children who have been the most precious gift anyone could ever ask for.

Even when they’re gone with their father for the weekend, I sit quietly in my home and feel tranquility.
For I am the best company , I could ever ask for…..

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Scattered,Smothered and Covered

I start things, then I stop, walk into a room and forget the reason I walked in there. I walk out with a shopping cart, while dealing with my youngest child’s latest crisis while my other child says: “Mommy! You have the wrong shopping cart!” I look and sure enough, it’s empty.

Welcome to my world of “Attention Deficit Disorder” (The inattentive type).
I have been like this for as long as I can remember, though unsure if as a little child my parents noticed it. Already a tad eccentric my little bugga boo self would leave a crayon on the table and forget were I place it. Little did I realize that a lot of my “quirks” and A.D.D. Would to some extent affect my ego,self esteem and make me withdraw into myself.

You have to understand A.D.D was not quite a diagnosis yet, but it exploded in the nineties with information starting to come forth in the eighties. I was diagnosed at 16. (This was in the eighties) My father asked the psychiatrist what they should do. The doctor suggested a new medication called “Ritalin.”

My father listened and probed then he asked what would happen, if I took no medication? The answer I remember the Doctor saying was I would cope.

No medication. I remember teachers doing their best to be patient with me, not only that but I struggled for I knew no English even though I was born here. ESL was difficult and I would cry as my sister excelled. I will never forget what a 3rd grade teacher said to me.

“You don’t pay attention and you will never amount to nothing.”

OUCH…Those words hit me like a Mack Truck going at full speed. Not only did I just get my self esteem ripped to shreds,but a TEACHER helped that process along.

I have other “gifts ” I was struggling with and some dark things were happening to me, so this just AMPED my phobias, anxieties by a million.

I do not know how I got through school, I worked 5 times harder then the average student just to keep up and I was burned out. In High School it was a complete and utter nightmare, failing and unable to keep up I was placed in remedial classes. I would cry, my father
Was not patient, my mother did not read English well. And I did the best with C’s and D’s.

A.D.D to me is like having a hundred televisions turned on with different channels on. You try concentrating and absorbing with all that shit on your mind.

Along with stresses in my private life, this deflated me. I dropped out of school at the age of 17. I eventually got my GED at 20.

One thing I was really good at was “Art”
I excelled at it, no Van Gogh or O’keefe for certain but I had my own style and teachers noticed it.

In my thirties I was re-Tested and my test was “off the charts” (quote un quote) That day I picked up my prescription and I tell you what, I was a speed demon, Zipping around getting stuff done, kids less confused on “Mommy’s brain that is like a puzzle”

The downside? It fucked up my energy field and I hated the pounding in my chest. Not only that, my Family Practice Doctor called me in for an EKG (checks heart beat)

I had no history of heart disease,high blood pressure and I was only 35.

“Why do I need an EKG?”

“The medication you take affects heart rhythm and may cause heart problems.This is routine”

What?!?! Stupid me did not read the “fine print” I already was on. It 6 months, it scared me but I figured I needed the med for clarity and memory.

Epic fail, it changed my already difficult stubborn and moody personality to a higher level of difficult, add hyper insomnia , sleep depravation and we had a “Bitch In shoes”

Slowly I tapered off and have been off for about a year, stickie notes are again my best friend, day planners accumulate dust (I forget to write in them) and my diet has changed to one more cup of coffee, water , green tea and less red meat.

It’s pretty difficult at times when I have to sit there and really hyper focus while my kids are demanding attention at every turn, phones ringing and there’s a knock on the door.

I’ve lived with this for as long as I can remember and have coped so long without medication that I can live without those pills.

I have contemplated buying Stock in stickie notes and pens, since I always lose the pens and use up a ton of stickie notes.

I’m a blessed mess, but that’s what makes me who I am and I can get through this, just like anything else.

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This is something that is so true! The worst part of it is, the realization that this person has no feelings of empathy, some can even verbally abuse you with no afterthought. Sociopaths are the “gas lighters” they flip that switch and bombard you to the point were you start questioning yourself. I am a magnet for these. And it is true, they are hard to “tune” into… It’s scary

The Moth to the Flame

It’s a battle as old as time . . . dark versus light.  And one that I’ve heard some talk of on the web, but never really HEARD and UNDERSTOOD – until now.  I had another epiphany in my healing journey this morning (I tell you that if you haven’t bought Melanie Tonia Evans NARC program – it is SO WORTH THE MONEY!)  I did the 4th Quatum Freedom Healing yesterday evening on dealing with the injustice and the lack of  closure, and I felt better immediately after like always but this morning some more of the pieces finally fell into my lap.  I know many of us spend a lot of time on the “Why did this happen to me” question.  And at least for me, I think I’ve finally found that answer which had been eluding me for most of my life.  I am an Empath!

I always knew something was…

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The Silent Scars.

I don’t care how many times I repeat this; ” Words Hurt,” I’ve been called a lot of things, some I’ve let roll off my back, some have made me doubt my worth. And the worst is when you cry in silence and pretend all is okay to the outside world. I would get so physically ill or mentally drained, I would stay in bed the whole day.

If repeated enough times the abuser will continue until the receiver breaks. The most painful of all things, is when the abuser scoffs at any idea that they are doing damage. Simple words like “nuts, crazy” being repeatedly used against the victim will unfortunately start to work.

It scars the soul, and such lack of empathy is the one person or person’s who you would never fathom could hurt you.

That’s the most painful of all, to have words hurled at you without so much as an after-thought.

How do you defend yourself from so much psychological abuse? Does the abuser know that small words have impact? Its almost certain that if my past tormentor read this blog he would laugh and think to himself

“This bitch is fucking nuts.”

That’s how they roll, very few admit they abuse with words, some do not see it (perfect example: Sociopaths)
And maybe some are so broken themselves, they could give two shits on what their victim feels since this is how they were raised, maybe.

I am a smart woman, no genius with a high I.Q. Level, but can certainly hold my own. Embracing my empathic nature I am a mess of broken records in life, searching to see the good in all.

Observing my patterns as I age, painful Checkmarks on what I keep repeating.
This is the time in my life where my eyes are barely opening to see that the abusers will probably never change.

Words cut so deep it leaves an invisible scar in your soul, shrinking away from so many by the fear that they will also confirm the abusers words.

Though I say I want to forgive, I really don’t, they wouldn’t care if I did. Forget? That is almost impossible, even if it is put in the back of your mind, those words come back to haunt you…

Crazy,stupid, weirdo,nuts,bitch…,

Small words like those above leave marks on the target. I will never understand why I out of anger retaliating back, stoop to their level only to retreat in defeat. Trying to prove something to someone who doesn’t give a shit makes you react like them, is draining.

The easiest thing is once I walk away I never look back, even if I fought in a battle that I knew I would lose.

The scars are there if you look close enough in someone’s soul. Mine are patched up and you may never know.
I smile and carry on hiding the hurt from the past and working to make sure that I do not doubt my intuition of these energy suckers of life.

The emotional abuser.

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Through Innocent Eye’s.

Wide eyes and smiles the leaves drip with dew, butterflies dotting the strawberry fields.

Small hands outstretched touching honeysuckle , young eyes see the Rainbow that leads to a mystical land , through a child’s mind the wonders of nature with sweet smell. Honey dew, strawberries, honeysuckle and dirt. The brown eyes smiling a dance to life.

Painting and crayons scattered about, as the creation of a masterpiece slowly comes forth, the hands of the innocent who paint the world free, trees are gumdrops the sun and a bee. Grass is made from licorice red, while the river flows chocolate and honey and it never ends.

Smiling so bright they light up the world, seeing through the eyes of a child while we grow old. Too busy to care on silly matters the grown ups carry on in mindless chatter.

Meanwhile the child talking so free, a tea party with teddy and dolls who happily accept a second cup of tea.

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