A bang on the sliding glass door reminded me of the motherfucker I had just chased onto the balcony with it. I smiled, or maybe it was her who smiled, thinking of killing this motherfucker dead. Of not just putting him out of his misery, but putting him out of ours.
She was calm, cool, collected and in control. Time had stood still as she savored the moment. And then more banging, followed by pleading, made time start again, along with my heartbeat. What was I going to do? Leave him on the balcony all night? I wouldn't be able to think straight with the banging. The neighbors might get involved. Might call the cops. When they arrived, would I tell them I locked him out there to prevent crazy bitch from stabbing him to death? Or would I let him in? Would she kill him then?
After a few more bangs and pleads, I watched as she stabbed my brand new bed instead. I heard the knife rip through my expensive, and also brand new, charcoal grey linen duvet cover. I felt disappointment. Her disappointment that she couldn't just kill him. And my disappointment that I now had a hole in my new duvet. Now that I reflect back on it, it mirrored the wide gaping hole in my heart. The hole she happily filled up with her wrath.
Crazy bitch left after stabbing my bed. Maybe she went straight back into that shadowey dark part of my psyche where she lived, or just hid, waiting. Waiting for the next time she could come to my rescue. I stood there looking at the knife sticking straight up from my bed. Then another bang brought me back to the present moment. What was I going to do with this motherfucker on the balcony? With her gone, I, of course, let him in. And just like crazy bitch, I went straight to bed, to go live, or at least hide for awhile, in the comfort of my lucid dreams.
A year and a half later, crazy bitch arrived on scene. This time it was a different motherfucker that brought her bubbling up from my unconscious interior, rising from the depths of my sudden shock, where I felt too paralyzed with a past life trauma, old wounds, and now, betrayal, rejection and abandonment from my love. From my love who is now the new motherfucker. That's when crazy bitch came to my rescue, just like she always did. She pushed the little four-year-old past life me, stricken by and frozen in shock to the side, gently, and sprayed raging fire, wrath and brimstone, faster than any fire breathing dragon ever could, while motherfucker ran.
My four-year-old past life self watched and cried as her body filled up with the desire to kill. She watched as she filled up with spite and malace, with hate and revenge, with rage and wrath, with self righteousness and control, with awe and wonder. I lost myself as she took over, and there was no longer anything I could do about it except hold on.
After three days of her taking me over, I broke. I broke down into a sobbing hysterical mess, holding on tightly to the broken pieces of my heart that I found lying in the dirt. They ached and they screamed and they cried along with me. In that moment of agony and deep pain, it was I who I wished were dead. She Drowned In The Depths Of Her Dark Watery Emotions is what they could write on my urn of ashes.
Later that afternoon I reached out for help. I was drowning. Or maybe I had already drowned. I shared about what I observed and discovered about myself, about that past life, and I saw my M.O., my modus operandi, my operating sequence, my pattern when crazy bitch comes to my rescue. I noticed that when someone does or says something to me, usually something negative, and totally unexpected, it activates my central nervous system into shock, often called fright. My nervous system alerts me that I'm in a life or death situation. I'm threatened. And all of the sudden I'm in danger. I freeze in that moment not knowing what to do. My mind goes blank. I stop breathing as my heart starts racing. In that moment, I'm a sitting duck.
After a few moments of shock, I begin recovering, or at least I thought I did, but all that's happening is a changing of the gears where I slip out of fright and land deep in full flight. That's when I do a runner. I immediately leave the person or situation, the danger, as fast as I possibly can. Sometimes walking. Sometimes running. Sometimes driving. Once flying.
I need to get away from this person or situation as, yet again, I'm in danger. I'm not safe. I must remove myself and run far far away before I get more harmed or hurt or shocked. And then here comes crazy bitch. She runs with me even though all she wants to do is turn around and punch that person right in the goddamn throat. She loves nothing more than thinking about going in for the kill. And if I don't walk or run or drive or fly away, she just might.
Her wrath, her rage is one of the strongest emotions I've ever felt and it takes everything in me to run, to try to control her, to contain the killer within.
Once I finally run away to a safe space, I usually come to my senses and reflect upon what just happened. This is the moment she takes over. This is the moment I change gears from flight to fight. This is the moment she fills me up with rage. This is the moment she turns around and comes after you. This is the moment you better start running. Because this is the moment she's been waiting for. And she's thinking of one hundred and two ways to kill you.
If I open my mouth, she will kill you with her words. She spits poison faster than a rattlesnake and her words sting faster than a scorpion. With my Moon in Scorpio, she takes full advantage of that archetype. It takes everything in me to just keep her mouth shut. She doesn't care about the damage her words can cause. She doesn't care about the carnage, the aftermath or the trail of dead bodies she would love to leave behind after kicking first. She only cares about me. And doing whatever it takes to protect me from harm. From danger. From motherfuckers.
So that's my M.O., my operating sequence; fright, flight, fight, that allowed me to see, to really see this crazy killer warrior bitch inside me. After I shared this with my friend, she said it sounded like a demon to her. I then told her what I kept seeing in my most recent past life; a four-year-old blonde-haired blue-eyed me left all alone in a forest, scared and in total and utter shock. I also told her about the bad dream I had a week prior where my lover didn't want to go with me to eat. He told me to go by myself and so I did. And then four men tried to rape me. I screamed and as I was screaming in one long consistent tone, I picked up a chair and smashed it against a window. When it bounced off the window, I woke myself up out of the dream.
I was quite freaked out, exhausted and distraught with all of these events that had taken place in a matter of seven days. Especially since crazy bitch had run my nervous system through the ringer, burnt out my adrenal glands and kidneys, and didn't let me eat for three days. My friend said it was definitely a demon, as she had just ran a demon clearing workshop two weekends prior. I didn't find that a coincidence.
I nodded to her in agreement, closed my eyes and saw my four-year-old past life me standing in the forest all alone, scared and in shock. In her despair, she called forward someone to protect her. A sweet old grandma with long grey hair pulled back in a bun, wearing a flower dress and an apron came to her, stood behind her bending over and was holding her little hands soothing her.
A moment later, the sweet little old grandma shape shifted into a sexy bitch wearing a black bikini and boots. She reminded me of one of those badass fire twirling girls. The kind you definitely don't want to fuck with. The black widow kind who will eat your head for breakfast.
I opened my eyes and told my friend it was definitely a demon. Or at least it had turned into one after all this time. It was then that I started crying. I knew I had to release her. Her contract, whatever it was, had obviously expired and she was now wreaking havoc in my life as her protection mechanism was out of control. But part of me didn't want to let her go. Who is going to protect me if I let her go? That thought made me cry even harder. And so I didn't let her go.
At least not then.
An hour later, we ran into one of my friend's friends. He had given me an energy healing along with some past life insight, a different past life to the four-year-old one, a week earlier. It was profound and he provided me with another piece to a puzzle I've been putting together for seventeen years now. I asked him for his insight about the demon in my four-year-old past life. He said I called her in when I needed her, that I created a contract, and that it had expired. He called her a walk-in, not a demon.
He confirmed everything I already knew.
I closed my eyes and looked at the contract. All it said was I will protect you. Then the sadness crept in again. Who's going to protect me now? I brushed the thought away and burnt up the contract. And then we sent her to the realm of light. I immediately felt lighter after she left.
And then I sat with the aftermath of that week. Crying out my pain, my four-year-old past life me that matched my current inner child shock and trauma, and the betrayal, rejection and abandonment from my love, along with the fear of getting raped and of getting left.
Who's going to protect me?
"I will," I said.
And then I smiled through my tears.
Love, Magic, Alchemy, Intuition, Light, Dark, Fire, Stars and Stuff,
Intergalactic Intuitive Investigator
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