I am a spiritual being.
The cards have been speaking quite clearly to me of late. In two days, they say, a deceit will be uncovered. Again. And I will feel alone and isolated, but a green shoot is hiding beneath and I shall find spirit and goddess energy and my path shall become clearer and freer of energies and relationships which are no longer serving me. I have the skills. I have gathered my forces. The time is NOW.
I think he is going to leave this weekend. Or that I shall discover he has been acting out again, and be forced to ask him to leave.
I have an undercurrent of anxiety, an earthquake vibration waiting to erupt. I almost let go yesterday, like an addict needing a fix of questions without answers, hoping for some change. But the last time we spoke, the demon behind his eyes was even the clearer, his addict narcissist speech unchanged. He remains chained to his obsessions. I feel my fear, feel my anxiety, honor it, and hold it close like a shivering rabbit. We are one, my fear, my hope, my desires, my needs, my loves, and I.
My instincts tell me the changes I have undergone riddle him with fear. That I might not need him. That I might be beyond his tortuous grasp. He hugged and kissed me yesterday like I wanted it, and I did not resist, pondering, but I believe he did it to see if he could hurt me, or as part of a game to make me think he is being attentive.
My instincts. MINE. I trust them. Whether they be projections or no, truth or no, they are my truth, and I must trust that what I see, what I feel, deep inside and without interference from another, even my own desires, is absolute truth. I called in my magic, my power, my trust of my instincts, my truth, my birthright.
He fears my independence. He needs to hurt me. He is anchored to his self by embedding his claws into my heart, and feels lost and falling without that control. He needs to see if he can find any buttons to push so that he confirms that he remains a puppet master, that he still can affect me and thereby have power over me. He needs me to rage, to explode, to lose my control. He ison the verge of a panic, to do something rash, to do something he knows should terrify me.
I feel so sorry for that child who chose to become a demon. I see that demon. Hard, ice green eyes, pupils constricted with the truth that his focus is completely within, that I am not in his vision. He seeks only to gaze into my eyes to dominate, paralyze, hypnotize. He does not share, only take. His face, his looks, his mouth, his touch are cold and lifeless. He is, and always has been, the zombie, the vampire, and I am the warm red-gold flame of life and promise of love.
I trust that the universe will take me where I need to go. If I am to leave, then so be it. If I am to manage alone, so be it. If he is to grow up and find a way free from the demon, so be it.
I am spiritual butter.