the death and destruction of mind, body, and soul 

​i want to apologize in advance for any misspelled words, lack of or incorrect grammar, to put it simply, poor writing skills.

Psychotic, robotic and disintegrating. – my mind, my body and my soul, during a time I can only describe as dark,confusing, and surreal.

i had been on a path of spiritual ascension and awakening for at least a good year .. During this time, countless events took place that shaped my beliefs, transforned my mental and physical health positively, provided me a great sense of understanding the unfortunate life events I endured, the lessons learned, acquiring more knowledge and sharing it as well as the phenomenal and paranormal events associated with spiritual ttansformation became an exciting new priority. There was no literature, no adventure nor human interaction that failed to be relevant, interesting or life changing.

My life finally had meaning . I was once stuck in an abyss of lack of motivation, interest and happiness, I couldn’t understand why my life was on a path that, from a viewers standpoint 

can be seen as destructive, lazy, and lacking in morality – 20 years old, no job, high school drop out spending her days on a road to absolute nothingness.

I guess I was just doing some of my usual casual internet reading when a topic sparked my interest and it was as if this article was speaking directly to ME in what I had at first perceived to be extremely eerie. I furthered my reading and I remember sitting against the wall when I began crying, an overflow of tears caused by many mixed emotions. I had no idea what this meant and what was in store for the rest of my days – once repetitive, meaningless and emotionally numb, now fulfilled with amazement, curiosity, and an extreme sense of wonder. A hunger to learn more and more washed over me. As I continued to expand my knowledge on the topic I finally found this whole ordeal to be – spiritual transformation – phenomena and unusual occurrences began to take place. Anyone on this path knows what I’m talking about. Those not so coincidental things that send shivers dlwn your spine, or make you feel as if the world and your surroundings are not even real.

I rarely went out during this time of my life due to my anti social manner andsevere anxiety, unaware this was key to spiritual transformation. And so once I started and discovered this realm of what seemed like an unworldly, surreal, sometimes frightening as hell, what felt like death was around the corner and sometimes imaginative, challenging but fun, once I got the hang of channeling anxieties and fears into humorous, uplifting thoughts or beliefs of myself, including my capabilities and my duties I after some time finally identified.

By the constant output and demonstrations of love and kindness,I was able to turn around or escape many hostile or even evil situations, spark changes or even healings in a number of lives, which caused immense emotional satisfaction. My life was far from one of the social norm, family relationships were lacking but my calling to serve my purpose to transform and teach was not one I wished to dismiss. Being the black sheep middle child of the family, this level of rebellious behaviors, including being away for weeks or months at a time, jumping ftom place to place wherever my journey would take me, and my ability became effortless, automatic, as if I were doing exactly what was meant fkr me to do at that time. I felt blessed to be lead by something greater than me although unseen and unheard, the sense of knowing that my spirit was under constant protection even in the most demonic environmen, that I had guidance and purpose too great to put into words…. Looking back it seems like something out of a movie, novel or dream.

The climax of these events came to an end and my focus moved towards drawing, poetry, and then finally turned to an technology and internet stuff like data and other crap I’m not sure if I even understood or if I was completely out of my mind. But I could have sworn I was up to something, although it was career or profit driven mostly from what I remember.

I believe I mentioned this took place in a year but my recalculation imposes a course of three or four years – starting with immense fear of the unknown, mystical and supernatural events, more fear, isolation, then magically an explanation for it all, leading to actively participating in this newfound… What would I call it ? Hobby? Way of life ? Or what felt like at times even, a wat between good and evil, dark and light, heaven and hell.

When I moved jb with my boyfriend, all the fairy tales came to a halt. We fueled each others alcoholism, he was a mean drunk and I plunged into a world of never ending drinking, booze, self hatred, and then took on a whole new extreme when I entered a world of extreme psychosis that lasted weeks.. I believed I was on my death bed. My life consisted of terrible hallucinations, straight fucked up delusions, inability to sleep due to nightmares so severe and so real every night I swear I was killed. So I became dependent on this guy I called my boyfriend, I could no longer sleep alone or get out of bed unless it was to drink or sometimes I would eat but then I quit that altogether too due to harsh criticism from him.

One day during one of his outbursts of rage, he trashdd the place we were staying at  destroying most of my things and whatever else he could reach. So we quickly moved out, slept on the street for a few days before spontaneously hopping on a flight to Montreal, all the while still in a deep psychosis, believing the sun was about to reach earth and burn it whole, while an Apocalypse underwent in the meantime – I believed there was little to no food available and human meat was now being served everywhere. In such a state of extreme feari didn’t care where I went as long as I didn’t leave his, sometimes loving side.

Now, seven months later, here I am, writing again with that natural flow of thoughts and words I so badly missed all this time but every time I tried to create, even just a short poem, no thoughts or ideas would come, any content had to be forced and lacked any depth, talent, or even mere interest in that sole moment. 

My spiritual growth not only ceased to continue, but it seems as if a death occurred altogether. I became the very Hunan being I once could not stand. I was racist and sometimes mean, judgemental  materialistic, sometimes my ego was enormous while other times it was completely destroyed by my partners negative insults and comments, the thin and beautiful French Montreal girls partying everywhere with seemingly perfect lives didn’t help my extreme low self esteem. I starved myself for months while drinking everyday, needing alcohol to function physically. I would get blacked out drunk and go around this stranger city shoplifting any chance I got. Anything, anywhere, to serve as the very little excitement and self gratification I had the capacity to feel at that time. Suicidal, empty and often angry, I went to jail a handful of times due to charges of mischief, theft and assaulting my THEN piece of shit boyfriend with a lamp to his face.

My reality while living in Montreal could be described as empty, emotionless, like my soul had been destroyed. I can’t put the feelings into words.. I either felt like I was on the brink of death, or I was in some afterlife as a ghost. Even visually, lighting seemed bright and dream-like. Like it were the final moments of my life in the dream state right before you fully check out of life. I was destroyed spiritually, mentally, and physically was on its tail end as well, so severely that I bled. Everyday. Out of everywhere. But alcohol, and getting dressed up to go stealing was my one and only pleasure. I couldn’t even stand sex anymore or anything to do with the infividual that moulded me into this disgusting, dying human being. I guess it was a blessing in disguise when I was arrested for shoplifting and got put in a jail hospital claiming I was mentally ill. Which I totally was, just not how they perceived me to be, which was schizophrenic and hearing voices telling me to do things – which I actually did have at times but not at the time of my blacked out stealing. I thought this hospital would beat jail, and I also thought I’d have to serve less time if deemed mentally handicapped at the time of my arrest. So I put my best acting skills to use, furthering my delusional belief that certain individuals in Montreal are simply just actors and not actually credentialed whatsoever for whatever position they pretended to hold. Either that, or the very good looking applicants get hired to sit there and look pretty and aid in the decline of every girls self image in hopes that girl attempts to better herself physically so that Montreal will rank one of the top cities for physical attractiveness, needed due to the mere fact that almost everyone just went out acting all day in public while getting paid to do so. Sort of like a fake city consisting widely of fake personalities, but Why, you may ask? Oh my delusional mind came up with many reasons. One was that the best actors get hand picked and shipped off to L.A. to become the next batch of celebrities. I genuinely thought that Montreal was the Canadian portal fot aspiring movie stars, and dialogue heard anywhere was mere researsed from a script. I mean, there really was two distinct groups of people amongst the Montreal population. One was the televisiin-like perfectly happy and upbeat, well dressed all in high end brands men, usually almost always accompanied by a crew of swooning bubbly models or porn star or something equally as flawless, sporting fashion only bodies in tip top shape could pull off. Here I was, running through crowds of rich and beautiful French people in gross second hand baggy pants and mediocre blouses, sporting a baseball cap, with the  set on believing I was simply a business woman getting off work rushing to meet her husband at work. So that they could drink the tips he made all away.

I couldn’t keep a job in such a state of health. Most interviews I had miserably bombed anyway due to the irrational thinking. I spent my days as a lost, restless ghost, unable to rest for more than a minute at a time as I hiked up and down the city built on a hill. I don’t know what I was. If I had to give it a name, it would be, solar powered robot running on nothing but beliefs that the more I go go go and the less I ate, the better the outcome of privileges such as alcohol, my boyfriends attitude towards me, and amount of goods I would pull off stealing.

So anyways this belief stayed with me in the hospital for a very long time until towards the end of my 40 day sentence  part of my spiritual self seemed to ease its way back, the first meal I ate was the best meal if my life after consuming nothing but liquor and morsels every few days, also provided me so much energy I was like a child experiencing a sugar rush. Then I started loving food again but hated myself every time I ate. Pooping felt foreign and disgusting.. To this day I still wonder how I went so long without table food, I miss the satisfaction of denying even my favourite food knowing I’m getting thinner everyday. I just don’t miss the lack of the loving spiritual being I once was that came with the lack of health in all other human areas. I made a fine robot though, feeling nothing but the need to look good, fulfilling nothing except the made up games and challenges I made up in my head. I thought I was in a higher realm of existence, where negative emotions didn’t exist because emotions themselves didn’t or barely existed. We were spirits doing the same routine everyday and life had no purpose but to compete with one another based on our physical appearance and materialistic item had been on a path of spiritual ascension and awakening for at least a good year .. During this time, countless events took place that shaped my beliefs, transforned my mental and physical health positively, provided me a great sense of understanding the unfortunate life events I endured, the lessons learned, acquiring more knowledge and sharing it as well as the phenomenal events associated with spiritual ttansformation became an exciting new priority. There was no literature, no adventure nor human interaction boring enough to withhold from people alike.

My life finally had meaning – once stuck in an abyss of lack of motivation, interest and happiness, I couldn’t understand why my life was on a path that from viewers standpoint can be seen as destructive, lazy, and lacking in morality – 20 years old, no job, high school drop out spending her days on a road to absolute nothingness.

I guess I was just doing some of my usual casual internet reading when a topic sparked my interest and it was as if this article was speaking directly to ME in what I had at first perceived to be extremely eerie. I furthered my reading and I remember sitting against the wall when I began crying, an overflow of tears caused by many mixed emotions. I had no idea what this meant and what was in store for the rest of my days – once repetitive, meaningless and emotionally numb, now fulfilled with amazement, curiosity, and an extreme sense of wonder. A hunger to learn more and more washed over me. As I continued to expand my knowledge on the topic I finally found this whole ordeal to be – spiritual transformation – phenomena and unusual occurrences began to take place. Anyone on this path knows what I’m talking about. Those not so coincidental things that send shivers dlwn your spine, or make you feel as if the world and your surroundings are not even real.

I rarely went out during this time of my life due to my anti social manner andsevere anxiety, unaware this was key to spiritual transformation. And so once I started and discovered this realm of what seemed like an unworldly, surreal, sometimes frightening as hell, what felt like death was around the corner and sometimes imaginative, challenging but fun, once I got the hang of channeling anxieties and fears into humorous, uplifting thoughts or beliefs of myself, including my capabilities and my duties I after some time finally identified.

By the constant output and demonstrations of love and kindness,I was able to turn around or escape many hostile or even evil situations, spark changes or even healings in a number of lives, which caused immense emotional satisfaction. My life was far from one of the social norm, family relationships were lacking but my calling to serve my purpose to transform and teach was not one I wished to dismiss. Being the black sheep middle child of the family, this level of rebellious behaviors, including being away for weeks or months at a time, jumping ftom place to place wherever my journey would take me, and my ability became effortless, automatic, as if I were doing exactly what was meant fkr me to do at that time. I felt blessed to be lead by something greater than me although unseen and unheard, the sense of knowing that my spirit was under constant protection even in the most demonic environmen, that I had guidance and purpose too great to put into words…. Looking back it seems like something out of a movie, novel or dream.

The climax of these events came to an end and my focus moved towards drawing, poetry, and then finally turned to an technology and internet stuff like data and other crap I’m not sure if I even understood or if I was completely out of my mind. But I could have sworn I was up to something, although it was career or profit driven mostly from what I remember.

I believe I mentioned this took place in a year but my recalculation imposes a course of three or four years – starting with immense fear of the unknown, mystical and supernatural events, more fear, isolation, then magically an explanation for it all, leading to actively participating in this newfound… What would I call it ? Hobby? Way of life ? Or what felt like at times even, a wat between good and evil, dark and light, heaven and hell.

When I moved jb with my boyfriend, all the fairy tales came to a halt. We fueled each others alcoholism, he was a mean drunk and I plunged into a world of never ending drinking, booze, self hatred, and then took on a whole new extreme when I entered a world of extreme psychosis that lasted weeks.. I believed I was on my death bed. My life consisted of terrible hallucinations, straight fucked up delusions, inability to sleep due to nightmares so severe and so real every night I swear I was killed. So I became dependent on this guy I called my boyfriend, I could no longer sleep alone or get out of bed unless it was to drink or sometimes I would eat but then I quit that altogether too due to harsh criticism from him.

One day during one of his outbursts of rage, he trashdd the place we were staying at  destroying most of my things and whatever else he could reach. So we quickly moved out, slept on the street for a few days before spontaneously hopping on a flight to Montreal, all the while still in a deep psychosis, believing the sun was about to reach earth and burn it whole, while an Apocalypse underwent in the meantime – I believed there was little to no food available and human meat was now being served everywhere. In such a state of extreme feari didn’t care where I went as long as I didn’t leave his, sometimes loving side.

Now, seven months later, here I am, writing again with that natural flow of thoughts and words I so badly missed all this time but every time I tried to create, even just a short poem, no thoughts or ideas would come, any content had to be forced and lacked any depth, talent, or even mere interest in that sole moment. 

My spiritual growth not only ceased to continue, but it seems as if a death occurred altogether. I became the very Hunan being I once could not stand. I was racist and sometimes mean, judgemental  materialistic, sometimes my ego was enormous while other times it was completely destroyed by my partners negative insults and comments, the thin and beautiful French Montreal girls partying everywhere with seemingly perfect lives didn’t help my extreme low self esteem. I starved myself for months while drinking everyday, needing alcohol to function physically. I would get blacked out drunk and go around this stranger city shoplifting any chance I got. Anything, anywhere, to serve as the very little excitement and self gratification I had the capacity to feel at that time. Suicidal, empty and often angry, I went to jail a handful of times due to charges of mischief, theft and assaulting my THEN piece of shit boyfriend with a lamp to his face.

My reality while living in Montreal could be described as empty, emotionless, like my soul had been destroyed. I can’t put the feelings into words.. I either felt like I was on the brink of death, or I was in some afterlife as a ghost. Even visually, lighting seemed bright and dream-like. Like it were the final moments of my life in the dream state right before you fully check out of life. I was destroyed spiritually, mentally, and physically was on its tail end as well, so severely that I bled. Everyday. Out of everywhere. But alcohol, and getting dressed up to go stealing was my one and only pleasure. I couldn’t even stand sex anymore or anything to do with the infividual that moulded me into this disgusting, dying human being. I guess it was a blessing in disguise when I was arrested for shoplifting and got put in a jail hospital claiming I was mentally ill. Which I totally was, just not how they perceived me to be, which was schizophrenic and hearing voices telling me to do things – which I actually did have at times but not at the time of my blacked out stealing. I thought this hospital would beat jail, and I also thought I’d have to serve less time if deemed mentally handicapped at the time of my arrest. So I put my best acting skills to use, furthering my delusional belief that certain individuals in Montreal are simply just actors and not actually credentialed whatsoever for whatever position they pretended to hold. Either that, or the very good looking applicants get hired to sit there and look pretty and aid in the decline of every girls self image in hopes that girl attempts to better herself physically so that Montreal will rank one of the top cities for physical attractiveness, needed due to the mere fact that almost everyone just went out acting all day in public while getting paid to do so. Sort of like a fake city consisting widely of fake personalities, but Why, you may ask? Oh my delusional mind came up with many reasons. One was that the best actors get hand picked and shipped off to L.A. to become the next batch of celebrities. I genuinely thought that Montreal was the Canadian portal fot aspiring movie stars, and dialogue heard anywhere was mere researsed from a script. I mean, there really was two distinct groups of people amongst the Montreal population. One was the televisiin-like perfectly happy and upbeat, well dressed all in high end brands men, usually almost always accompanied by a crew of swooning bubbly models or porn star or something equally as flawless, sporting fashion only bodies in tip top shape could pull off. Here I was, running through crowds of rich and beautiful French people in gross second hand baggy pants and mediocre blouses, sporting a baseball cap, with the  set on believing I was simply a business woman getting off work rushing to meet her husband at work. So that they could drink the tips he made all away.

I couldn’t keep a job in such a state of health. Most interviews I had miserably bombed anyway due to the irrational thinking. I spent my days as a lost, restless ghost, unable to rest for more than a minute at a time as I hiked up and down the city built on a hill. I don’t know what I was. If I had to give it a name, it would be, solar powered robot running on nothing but beliefs that the more I go go go and the less I ate, the better the outcome of privileges such as alcohol, my boyfriends attitude towards me, and amount of goods I would pull off stealing.

So anyways this belief stayed with me in the hospital for a very long time until towards the end of my 40 day sentence  part of my spiritual self seemed to ease its way back, the first meal I ate was the best meal if my life after consuming nothing but liquor and morsels every few days, also provided me so much energy I was like a child experiencing a sugar rush. Then I started loving food again but hated myself every time I ate. Pooping felt foreign and disgusting.. To this day I still wonder how I went so long without table food, I miss the satisfaction of denying even my favourite food knowing I’m getting thinner everyday. I just don’t miss the lack of the loving spiritual being I once was that came with the lack of health in all other human areas. I made a fine robot though, feeling nothing but the need to look good, fulfilling nothing except the made up games and challenges I made up in my head. I thought I was in a higher realm of existence, where negative emotions didn’t exist because emotions themselves didn’t or barely existed. We were spirits doing the same routine everyday and life had no purpose but to compete with one another based on our physical appearance and materialistic items. Empathy and ability to connect emotionally with another being that wasn’t self serving was not capable. It happened once in the hospital with this big muscular staff member who was so humorous and pleasant to be around. I miss that awesome character. He provided me with laughter and humanity in the worst times. Other than him, girls were catty and conceited, no one was friendly. Guys were either  sexually or for ones own entertainment to pass time. Possibly polishing up their acting or comedic skills as well.

I cant say it was entirely torture. But being a soulless anorexic delusional schizo whose emotions either fluctuated dramatically without any reason, or were nonexistent altogether, or perhaps a lab rat being heavily medicated on all sorts of antipsychotic for the entertaining research purposes these Québec monsters were conducting on broke prisoners because the rest of the population could afford the best lawyers and most certainly would not undergo such drug experiments just to have people laugh at you for having a mental illness.

Hospital? This was an institution in hell, hades, where so called nurses not so discreetly talked shit about you. Where they are most likely testing new warfare gases they pump through the vents, which would explain the extreme weakness, tiredness and zombie like feelings.

Quebec is beautiful, but everything existing in it is either ugly or deceiving. Being so disconnected from myself and reality at that time, it feels like its just some memory or story that never even happened. I wish I could say, Yeah !! Montreal was an amazing trip ! But it feels like all a dream. After my release my father flew out to bring me home to Manitoba. I envisioned the return to be a lot like heaven – I’d eat without criticism on all the best food my parents kept in the house, I’d be safe from the citys tiresome pressure to keep up with the rest  of the born and raised elite, the grips of their cops and legal system that I kept falling back into due to extreme loneliness and depression. But home turned out to be even worse than the city of hell itself. Although my boyfriend remained in a Montreal jail, his voice overtook my thoughts and I heard the same two sentences he always used to say over and over like a broken record. My mind was corrupt, I was suffering from complete apathy. I couldn’t drink while living there so I truly was a numb zombie everyday desperately finding measures just to pass the time. That’s when I decided it would be in my best interest to return to my boyfriend so that I wouldn’t be jammed up clock watching all day. But the joy that overcame me upon his return proved I had missed him indeed. I had a newfound feeling of appreciation for him and all his efforts and doings while in Montreal but moreso in events to come. He has his moments of being mean but so do I. I’m not sure what caused my very existence to almost decease entirely but I cannot blame it all on him. Truth is, we were both addicts and toxic for each other, and obviously both very insecure .

So here I am, were together, again, but I can’t help but notice the lack of my once heightened spirituality, creativity and curiosity that occurred as soon as our relationship began. Have we been too busy drinking, neglecting priorities and promoting importance on our next bottle? Has he somehow stolen or destroyed my soul? Our relationship has improved!, immensely, but I am still not the same in terms of spirituality or personality. I now exhibit a tinge of bitterness and egotism, and until now had absolutely no desire to write, read, or share.

I am no longer the lost ghost I was in Montreal. My well being in all areas are almost back to normal ! I Spent hours in the library engulfed in books on topics that interest me, including the once lost and now no longer forgotten, spiritual transformation. I want to be full of unconditional love for all things again like I used to be. I want to do things that please me spiritually again like I always used to do when I was single. I’m not sure he is on a path of any sort, although expressing interest for God and Church, it is not of interest to me. When I am in my zone and read or write for several hours on end, he gets insulted and thinks I’m mad at him or ignoring him, thus serving as a distraction as I can feel so much foreign negative vibrations from him while I serve my own intellectual desires.

Anyways. Its been so long. I am so thrilled I got to feel this way again even if it won’t be as much of a regular activity as it once was, but now that I am spiritually aware again I definitely want to dive right back into it, although I know it simply does not work that way, even if time permitted. Somehow I need to balance physical, mental and financial health again while finding the time to feed my unique spiritual health. While my boyfriend has been currently away I am just basking in spiritua glory as I read and write again,l feel again, my very favourite hobbies are enjoyed again, I hope long term rather than momentarily. I sort of feel like I’m back to square one on my path, and I’m totally okay with that. Unsure of what it takes to regain total connection with the physical world while prancing around t the city feeling nothing less than angelic while my every little interaction consisted of so much selfless love that even the grouchiest of the grouches couldn’t help but smile and respond with friendliness. Even being taken advantage of for my kindness by those whom I considered a friend alike, numerous times, never could kill the love and light that dwelled inside of me. I was just no believer in anything BUT love and kindness.

Today, I am still a friendly patron of society. But my spark has sizzled out. Although not a complete numbed out inhuman species anymore, I still am missing something, if not, a few things. I suspect this could be due to my relationship, we are together almost 24/7therefore this constant exchange of energies is subconsciously the focus. Although I enjoy my mate, my other half, he’s my best friend and person I’m most comfortable with.I’ve adapted to this life of always being together that I am usually wishing he was present with me when he is not, with this exception of great flourishing of the soul that can only be conducted in solidarity.

My personal interpretation is, I was meant to be destroyed. The dark forces of the universe found the perfect opportunity to strike when I was already down.Now, I forcus on the process of spirituality rebirth. Reading, journaling, and poetry all once tugged at my very soul and creation was what made me feel whole, and escaping reality into the minds infinite creative abilities was what I wanted to do. All the time. Losing this, now as I rediscover, is pure bliss.

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