When my husband left, it felt as if a curse had been cast against me (this may have been true to some extent, in review of anothers’ trying to “steal” him from me).
I couldn’t believe he’d chosen my 40th birthday to have his midlife crisis, and I wondered in anguish how my life’s good efforts could not have avoided this.
I was looking in the mirror, deeply distressed with brain impulses blast-bombarding, and witnessed myself have a mini stroke as the left side of my face briefly dropped.
I sensed a powerful, negative force trying to crush the light within me. Something was taking advantage of this opportunity.
I prayed for protection and guidance and soon happened upon my husband’s data key – which must have slipped from his pocket while he was driving, and then slid to the floor behind the driver’s seat.
I had never trespassed upon his digital privacy, but this had to be the exception. I loaded it and learned that the choices he’d made had nothing to do with me.
I wasn’t a real candidate as his life mate – just a construct for him to project upon in our relationship.
Years later, I became engaged to my fiance and traveled between places I’d lived before, trying to find where we could settle to begin our new family.
From the beginning of our relationship and throughout, I felt as if a malevolent spector was smothering my brain in constant bad messaging.
“You’re too old for him. He will leave you for a younger woman. You aren’t attractive.” Envious, angry, and destructive, it lashed at me because I dared to strive to be happy.
The presence was constantly working against my positive psychology, squeezing and suffocating with painful degradation.
i struggled against it feebly, unsure how to dislodge its grip.
While staying briefly where my parents then lived, I went on a water fast for 24 hours to tap into cellular cleansing and resetting.
I then ate only tiny amounts of meat with a lot of cooked down vegetables, worked out almost daily, and bicycled everywhere instead of driving for a couple of weeks.
I quickly lost the 20 pounds I had gained from being exposed to extreme living situations without security. As a side effect, the skin on my face and forearms sagged: I looked as if I was 70!
Ever since that first day in the mirror after my husband disappeared, I’d felt as if The Crone had been taking advantage of my emotional vulnerability, scrabbling to suck the life force from me – and now she was winning!
But I fought back, now – valiantly – putting action, if not thought, into countering her.
I began doing facial muscle exercises and skin rolling massage with my fingers to reactivate tensility. I reentered work where I was using my arms and body frequently and regained muscle strength and tonality.
Eventually, the plumpness under thin gauntness began to return, and my skin began to retighten. My features are smoother now and more honestly self representing.
I am regaining ground and am proud of my efforts.
The Crone is a Bitch, if you let her be. There is no romanticism in her gnarled bones. She is spiteful, vengeful, and will suck youth from its marrow while cackling with glee.
The only defense I know of against her is to convince her I am not easy prey for her feeding.
Candid Corvid Productions 