everything that kills me makes me feel alive.

i hate having long lapses between my actual writing, just to come back with nothing to offer up but doom and gloom. but i don’t have any other outlets, i have nowhere else to go. so i use the metaphor of my ‘familiar’ to call; my Oubliette.

The Origin and/or Definition of an Oubliette is:  French, from Middle French, from oublier to forget, from Old French oblier, from Vulgar Latin *oblitare, frequentative of Latin oblivisci to forget — more at oblivion.

First Known Use: 1819  (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/oubliette 


An Oubliette looks like this:


The Oubliette I refer to (and often!) in this post is just a metaphor, for the entity protecting me from the world around me, that has pressed in at my psyche like those bottomless holes in the earth…but the oubliette isn’t keeping me from leaving, it’s simply protecting me from that which i cannot handle.  This oubliette, it loves me in a way…it has too, because it knows what i can and can’t handle at this exact moment in my life.


“…I am in the blackest edge of an oubliette.  i can’t see, touch, taste, or do much more than “Feel” with that intuition that my ancestors passed down to me from generation to generation.”

I have suffered, y’all.  I’ve suffered so much loss in the past 9mths that I don’t think a regular person would still be on this plane — they’d either be in a padded room, or out on the street giving in to drugs & drink…..or just taking a dirt nap.

I can afford NONE of those things.  it is my duty and law-given right to ensure that my progeny receives the best of everything; the best of me, the best of education, the best in living quarters and living situations.  the luxury to disappear into the abyss is lost when one becomes a parent, in my humble opinion.

To get to the point…The Party. is Fucking. Over.

well, or at least until 18-22yrs after giving birth lol.  but i don’t “Rue” that fact, i welcome it.

you see, i have seen AND done more drugs, booze, psychotropics, psychedelics, and prescription medications than a living body should have ever had partaken in.  i have ridden the snake!

i have loved for free, loved at cost, and loved for a price.  i have fed every last urge a human being could have and still have the balls to call themselves a homo-sapien vs. mammal.  i have walked into the fire, i have let it burn me until there was nothing left but ash, just so i could rise again in Phoenix’ arms.

i’ve went mad,

i’ve courted insanity; HELL, i’ve promoted it! i’ve run with the devil (tho i still don’t believe he exists) and i’ve fed on the energy of those around me with a Bacchic aplomb so nasty it’d make a succubus blushI have been her kind.

…so i wasn’t sad to say goodbye to those times. i was in need of a vacay, to be honest.

After all of that, you’d think at minimal nothing could faze me. But you are wrong.


“…..my oubliette squeezes in tighter to protect me from the images and voices displayed on the outside of it’s shell like walls.”

My Oubliette does this because unlike those around me currently, or those reading this–my ‘Truth’ is still deeply hidden. I’ve only let hints of it slip, for decorum’s sake. I can’t do it anymore, though.  In holding back, I’m hindering myself from healing my suffering…what suffering, you say?

My deep and desolate lamentation at the loss of a fruitful womb, for starters.

I’m not going to go into the why’s, only that at 36yrs old, I lost the pride of my womanhood — the ability to make more babies.  And though I make light of it often, the truth is that I now lie as empty as the hull left where my womb once lay.

The continued suffering?

That the one person I loved and trusted the most on this earth, decided when i was having my hysterectomy, to start an affair with a young, fertile girl and impregnate her — because she was, and I quote– “Easier.”

This and several other situations that followed were why I began therapy on 4/22/2014.

I began therapy for our family’s sake, because I knew this jerk i wanted to marry DID  have a valid point –but i also didn’t want him to make any life-altering mistakes that would destroy US, forever.

Too Late.  *sing-songy voice*

He impregnated Porsha2.1 on new year’s eve 2013; i found out about this much later, of course.  Either way, the damage was done. I was devestated, well and truly broken.


“…my oubliette caressed me gently, holding me like a mother holds a newborn babe…my oubliette knew this next part was hard.”

Then obvious came; 21yr olds aren’t very motivated or interesting to people our age (at least females).  They split, he came sniffing back around. He needed help. And I am Kind.

Against my family’s wishes, I fought on his behalf to let him stay off and on for a month, for two reasons:  to see his son, and to get back on his feet. Little did i know that when he did get back on his feet, he would head back to the other girl to ‘give it a try.’  of course, a new cellphone and apartment came with that deal.


“…oubliette holds me firm, as i free fall into the black pit of renounced denial, revamped pain and remembered wrongs.”

Tonight as I type this, the darkness has swallowed me damn near whole.

For the first time in my life, I’m aware that I may not win this time. For the first time in my life, I’m aware that the urge to just give up and give in are the strongest they have EVER been, at any point in my life. I can hear the whispers on the wind, just telling me to push free and let go.  Those whispers tell me to let the madness in, let the blind rage take over the wheel.

Let’s clarify something in the midst of all this metaphorical blood-letting…I am not upset about some jagoff and his wishy-washy bullshit.

I’m well aware that i am better off and have been for some time, because he is blind to his selfishness and self-centered behavior. He is BLIND to how he treats women, and he will NEVER change.  If he;d had the capacity for change, he may had come and  looked me directly in my eye on day #1 —  and told me  the real truth:  that he wanted more children, he wanted less struggle, and he wanted someone healthy (ie. my mitochondrial disease, endometriosis, etc).  That’s not said to be mean, it’s stated as fact. He will never change, he will never have the capacity to ‘See’ what he’s done and realize he’s at  fault for it in any way.

A person that lies that well to themselves can never interpret the truth or act from truth with others.

After being in a monogamous relationship with two very similar people (in the aspect of self-centered behavior) for a consecutive 16yrs — The toll of all of this loss, suffering then bitter-grapes rage has only just hit home in the past month as a real problem.

I have given all I had in every way, and I say that with absolutely NO bravado, exaggeration or lies.

I bent, molded, and shaped myself to be what the men in my life had wanted me to be — the first, wanting a schoolgirl to turn whore and the second wanting a whore to turn housewife.


These were all my choices.

I believe I’ve come to the point where I now know I can never truly forgive myself for leaving myself behind.  I just can’t.

Knowing who and what I am; who and what I come from…all this drama is absolutely UNACCEPTABLE. UNACCEPTABLE, Y’all.

This wallowing, and self-pity…the booze and drugs and pills I’ve taken to try and half-assed harm myself, only to end up in the cradle of Goddess’ arms leaves me humiliated, shamed, and disgusted with myself.

Long-windedly, I hate myself.

I hate myself, for who I’ve let myself become.  I hate myself for EVER having an inkling of doubt in who I am, and what I am capable of.  I let these…relationships, strip me of my humanity. I let these dudes rob me of my identity willingly, because I thought I was better off suffering with less so that they could have more. Hell, you can’t even be angry with them. I willingly let them take all of me — why wouldn’t I continue to get jipped again, even now?

What’s infuriating is that I KNOW i’m better than that, better than them.  I KNOW I’m Smarter. I KNOW I’m of higher quality & better stock.  And I KNOW I deserved better, from start to finish, no matter what I may have said or done in the end. Because what I suffered from the beginning was payment enough.

And so now I find myself hiding in my Oubliette, shaking from rage.  A rage so deep and dark that I scare myself just to think on it.

I hide from my family, I hide from my friends because I can’t bear to think I’ve let them down.  I hide from the world because I am so angry, I am fucking PISSED OFF because I shouldn’t have had to suffer the underhanded BULLSHIT & disrespect I’ve suffered in this past month.  I don’t owe anyone ANYTHING.  And yet, my overwhelming addiction to being a light for someone else trapped in the darkness gets me duped, yet again. My desire to do good, to pay it forward, in the hopes that maybe what would shine through would be all the good that was had together vs. the bad YET AGAIN cause me to not only disrespect my parents — but offer up their resources, my son’s resources as well as my own to someone who had a plan B ALLLLLLL Along.

But the rage isn’t about that. The rage is that he will never understand why he is wrong for what he’s done.  Ever.

…it makes me want to run out of my house barefoot, get in the beater, roll to the nearest liquor store and get a carton of cigs+a liter bottle of Mr. Burnetts Vodka…it makes me want to then go home and drink half that liter, and smoke a pack of cigs though i haven’t had a drink in 6mths, or a cigarette in 8yrs. It makes me want to drink and drive; it makes me want to get in a fight, it makes me want to destroy property.  And lastly, it makes me want to hurt myself in some inevitable sort of way that will truly make me the hermit i’ve nearly become…just so i have an excuse for the madness that would encompass and destroy me during the final moments of that inevitable end.


“…Oubliette holds me in-utero; fluid, suspended in time and silent now…preserved for my gods’ study, their dialogue of thought and finally their message sent with hope of healing.”


I’m so tired.

Everyone says I’m so strong, I’m so blah blah blah etc.

I’m frickin tired, Bruh. I’m just soooo tired. I’ve fought about/for some thing or ideal my entire life, in one way or the other. I’ve dedicated what life I have left bring education, assistance and some sorts of small creature comforts to the kith and kin. What energy I have left, I dedicate to my son first, with those in need behind him. I put everything, and everyone first because I chose too. And now i’m tired….i’m tired enough to say that i no longer know nor care what happens to me next. I’m tired enough to say I can’t be bothered to be in a relationship again, because i have become so jaded that it wouldn’t be fair to the other person whatsoever.

I’m tired enough to finally just let go.  I don’t know what that means for the future…I don’t know what ANYTHING means, Anymore.  And I don’t care, either.

That’s all I’ve got. Until we meet again….

Brightest Blessings,









2 thoughts on “everything that kills me makes me feel alive.

  1. @SerenityWolf I just saw this commentary, two days after you originally issued it. I just wanted to say THANK YOU — from the bottom of my black little heart, Thank YOU, for your wonderful comments on my blogpost. This was one of the hardest, darkest, and most harrowing of my ‘personal’ posts I’ve written to date. I laid it all out there, because I just don’t know any other way to be.

    I’m a big believer in blogging (as well as knitting, droppin it like it’s hot, coloring just about ANYTHING with crayons)– as well as writing the most profanity laden, unapologetic, shit-storm creating confessional poetry a’la the dead dame Anne Sexton ARE valid methods of psychotherapy. You shouldn’t have to pay for what a simple act of pouring out your heart and soul via the arts can heal eventually and for good!

    And so that’s what this blog is; beyond promoting my thoughts as a 4yrs-in-convert to Paganism (a’la Kemetism, Hellenism & good ol fashioned Hard Polytheism)— this blog really is for spewing that crud OUT of my psyche, via the occasional random blog or posts of poetry. The fact that someone else out there can appreciate it and let me know i’m on the right track gives me the chills in all the good places & parts, Hon! *lol*

    Love & Light to You & Yours….

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow. This is the realest *ish I have read on the Internet. Ever. When a lot of people write, they doctor their posts, they make it kind, people-friendly. You just put it out there like it is, no apologies, no regrets. NEVER stop writing. Continue to be that light for yourself and your child. Blessed Be.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.