He is god. A god. To me. He is god to me. Like god. So he’s basically my god.
And noooooo. He has not brain washed me in any way. Certainly not. I want that to be made clear.
We’ve been married for… this year we will be celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary on November 11. 11/11 if you’re superstitious or that way inclined. We’ve been together for 13 years.
It’s only that this year I realised holy shit, WE are gods. Because we have each other. I’m only a goddess because I’m his equal, and it took me this long to realise our fucking divinity, the divine nature in all things because of our very profane, mundane, real world love and life.
I don’t reveal his name, although on this blog I’ve called him J or Jain. He likes his privacy and I dare not disrespect that.
I have said heaps of times that I’m fucking awesome, but also absolutely slammed myself because of those habits of self hate and shame. And through all of it, through all of my self destructive and horrible bitchy manipulative whatever sinful ways… he’s stuck by me through it all.
I have pushed him away, made him chase after me, and all that crap. And he fought for me, he fought for us. But it got to a point where he wasn’t going to put up with my shit anymore and he just ignored me. So I had to come back and make him chase me – which he wouldn’t. Because he had self respect.
That… that pissed me off. But also it allowed me the chance to see through my own bullshit and terrible tendencies.
I was so hot for him the night we met, and he felt it too.. so we both acted outside of our normal characters. I wanted to fuck him that first night and he wanted to take his time to get to know me. But I tend to get what I want anyway. It was a beautiful one night stand that turned into our marriage. Like holy shit, neither of us would ever had thought we’d be where we are now.
That first night we talked about monogamy being bullshit and you should just do whatever you want, so long as you knew it for what it was. We talked about societal expectations and how pathetic and futile it was to live by anyone elses “standards” but your own. We talked about movies and music and fun (il/legal) mischief we’d had our hands in.
He was (and is) the yang to my yin. I’ve always been that “facilitator” friend who could connect people to experiences, people and things. AND SO WAS HE! We were each other’s mirror. And we totally wanked each other’s minds. Our ideas, our hearts, our… everything.
And even now to this day we have these amazing conversations and debates and experiences and everything. He’s an engineer and science guy. I’m a teacher and humanities kind of gal. I only know shit about politics and world events and practical applications of mechanisms because of him. He teaches me stuff, I like I learn from him. His brain is just… omg amazing.
He doesn’t try to convince me of anything. We can argue and fight and love and agree and every thing. Because we know each other. And there is no one else in this world who has… withstood our tendencies to kind of just fuck shit up (to utter perfection or destruction) when we are on our own.
He’s fucked people up, so did I. And not always intentionally. It just… some shit just happens. I can only explain it like we are each of us a sun. A giant burning ball of nuclear fusion that can destroy shit, or bring things to life. And us becoming one? Omg it has not been easy. Holy crap we went through some really tough tough stuff. But through it all, we totally survived. And I’m not even trying to be poetic. I’m trying to be as realistic and profane and unholy as I possibly can be.
I like to think of it as him being Lucifer and myself as Lilith, once the scourge of the earth but together we healed. And we are not destructive nor vindictive. We just want to live and let live. Love and let be.
But he’s a dude, and even though all this shit is going on in the world, he doesn’t feel any responsibility to help. Because fuck that, the world has always just fucking shat on us.
I’m only on the internet trying to espouse my messages and teachings because of my classroom of boys this year. All my classes, my boys, I felt their frustration and know from experience their pains.
I could not give a fuck about making it big on the world wide web because “the world” doesn’t owe me anything, I’m not here to preach, but I am here to fucking just lecture. I’m a teacher not a preacher. I could not give a fuck if you believe me or not. I entertain, I don’t need to persuade. I have classrooms of students who (omg bless their hearts… being on so much sick leave has really cemented this idea) actually miss me, and are gutted that I’m not their teacher anymore.
I’ve been doing casual teaching this term because of my health, I couldn’t handle the stress of admin and behaviour management and academic bureaucratic paper pushing crap. It literally screwed over my blood glucose levels. So I’d get stressed and it’d go high, and as soon as I relaxed or enjoyed something it’d freaking crash. But this term kids have been like “omg miss, can you be our drama teacher”, “miss. Why did you leave us?”, “we want you to be our timber teacher” “you should teach us hsie again”
It makes me want to cry from love and appreciation that.. shit, I actually meant something to these guys. Because as much as they’d stress me out, they knew I gave a crap about them.
So honestly, I don’t even have to be on the internet to feel good about myself. I was perfectly happy and content in my life before coming up on here. But I came online to just air out all the swirling crazy thoughts and shit in my brain because I had no other outlet. I have private blogs that have like 1 or 2 people who can even access them. I don’t need this shit *public* sphere.
BUT I AM HERE BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL FUCKING FULL OF YOURSELVES AND IF NO ONE WILL PUT YOU BACK IN YOUR PLACE, THEN FUCK YOU.
I’m here because I know only I can deliver my message the way I know how. And you know what? I’ve done nothing but yet (in my head) at the laptop and flapped my hands in furious tantrum jazz hands whatever, and I’ve got 80 followers?!
I really do have a perfect life. It’s not anyone else’s perfect though, but it’s perfect for me. But I’m not perfect, shit, I’ve got issues raising my kids now. My eldest is 10 and she’s getting hormonal and angsty and shit so I have plenty of normal problems.
That doesn’t make me less of a goddess. Maybe it makes me MORE of one. Because I’m just doing what every other human person does. I’m getting on with it.
I’m here as the figurehead who will happily bear the brunt of the bullshit that people want to throw at me. HERETIC, WHORE, ATHEIST, SATANIST, FALSE PROPHET, PSYCHOPATH, SOCIOPATH, MANIPULATOR, come on. I’ll take it on. You can’t call me a con artist though because I’m a bullshit artist. I only want money to read tarot cards and just do what I want to do – which could be anything. Mostly just to justify not working full time so I can write, and so I can explore the metaphysics, and legitimise the mystic arts, demystify the mysterious.
Anyone who has felt ostracized, demonized, victimised, criticised for whatever bullshit… I’m the modern mystic mother and I will shelter you as best I can. I’m warring the patriarchal ideology that there is “God the father son and holy ghost” because women just get to be “ghosts”. That’s my feministic ideology. My humanistic ideology is fucking realise gender is a false dichotomy, there are hermaphrodites and intersex people. Both and neither genders.
I dunno dude. I’m here for a lot of different reasons. I’m going to be yelling and bitching and lecturing for a while. Which is such a shit because I like to have fun. And going off like this? Not my idea of fun..