Candid Corvid Productions

It can’t be forced, but must be earned.

A lot of sh** went down to make someone’s resiliency scatter.

It must be fed with given trust.

It must be carressed by promises kept.

It must be shown that Light Is the Truth.

And that darkness is the fallacy.

Perhaps I am making a mistake in going to places where the poor go.

I haven’t judged them – but I sure as heck judge myself!

Perhaps, if I avoided such places, I wouldn’t be triggered by my empathy.

Maybe I am overexposing myself to this, instead of more positive situations.

I’ve just been so caught up in survival, making sure we can make it by simplifying.

Yet, even the homeless look at me, wondering what I am doing there.

It’s clear that I am not one of them.

I’m a niche creator.

The system is broken.

Maybe it never worked to begin with.

Laws are just cobbled together to serve lawyers and politicians, instead of human decency – which they claim to defend.

When someone as good as me gets put through hell, like rabid wolves, others target.

A public argument or heated discussion.

The need to at last set limits with an out-of-control dog.

This is all it takes – just a “slip” – and in come the wild hogs.

They say that stress can kill, and now I know why.

It messes with your homeostasis.

And like an injured cichlid in a tank, society turns on you like an opportunistic school (of cichlids) and picks at you.

Until you fight back, and prove you have what it takes to still compete.

It’s a feral instinct of self protection, and if you don’t push against and act crazier than they do, they’ll keep coming after you.

If I know all of these things, why can’t I get out of the cycle?

Why does the darkness keep pulling me back to its bossom?

Well, because I put up a good fight and keep it at bay.

It so easily claims others – but not me.

I am tired of it.

Maybe I’ll just ignore it.

I heard that if you do this, it simply ceases to be.

When you’re an empath, you sense nuances other people may not notice.

When you’ve been abused, you learn to track patterns.

When 911 happened, I felt the undercurrents.

Most of the nation reacted to the external of it.

I realized then that Bush Jr.had secured the presidency.

No one was going to do a recount.

How convenient – and was the cost worth it?

To evil, yes. For profit – absolutely.

Hey. I don’t want this power.

It’s like being a super hero with no benefit.

And, it’s not like I can control it, or predict anything.

I have no real proof my impression was the whole story.

But, if anyone is paying attention at all to what’s around them, over time, some things can become a bit predictable.

Like the fact I was attracted to the celebrity.

Guaranteed that he was not available.

If I could break out of this grip that some hold has on me, I would do it – gladly.

That’s why my ex left me.

I wasn’t the problem – it was imbedded deep in his psychology.

And, like my father and fiance, he figured breaking up the family was a worthy sacrifice.

Well, having received that end of the lack of pardon, I refused to abandon my children.

So, they had to see the ugly – the damage that happens when someone destroys your dreams and takes everything.

I wish it didn’t still affect me.

It would be nice if there wasn’t constant negative reinforcement.

It that the out?

Make everything perfect?

Or numb oneself to the nth degree by alcohol or mushrooms or some other drug of choice that is a “no no” – but still more permissable than allowing me to break free?

The system has to be Right, and wil do everything and anything to maintain this facade.

At the expense of you and your loved ones – at a pittance of the cost for making you dependent.

So, there’s a fire raging inside of me.

It’s determined to break this larceny.

I have nothing to prove to others, but myself to reclaim – and to be the best person that I can be.

Oh, how the mortgage specialist was so kind and attentive.

He kept pinging my email, until I asked him to wait and contact me mid-Novemeber.

Then, he called today like clockwork, eager and ready to be of service.

Until I began telling him what had transpired and that I’d gone into business for myself.

Then, he abruptly cut me off and began retreating..

“We need two years worth of proof if you’re a sole proprietor…”

Interjected as he hastily gave apologies and said I could contact him when I was ready, while hanging up.

The nice thing about being alientated is that you remember.

And I have all the emails, so I won’t forget who turned tail on me when the sale was suddenly not so easy.

When the day comes, he will not be the person I apply to for a home loan.

I’m the worst on myself, but not on others.

I hold myself to strict accountability – and if I vary outside any “norm,” I am the hammer on the gavel.

No jury of peers – none is needed..

No begging for clemency: I know what I’ve done.

And yet, the rapists, murderers, and destroyers of sanctity get to walk, without punishment.

It has become acceptable by society that people are disallowed variances – unless extreme.

She discovered when she connected with him online that there was already too much static between them.

She had approached him, open and honest.

While he had responded politely with light inquiry, his guards were already cemented.

She realized, then, that she didn’t want to just get shunted into a preset category.

He was too important to her to let him get away with that.

I am not a “helicopter” parent, but I do make sure he is nourished.

He has social anxiety and his own difficulties.

We have been through hell together, and separately.

I won’t abandon him because society says this-and-that about upbringing.

Society, as a rule, ignores what we really need in order to become fully conscious, healthy contributors.

I may get into a lifestyle of traveling for work and exploring, but he’ll be the base I return to until he is solid with his own wings.

Humans are capable of wonderful things, and I’m ensuring he gets to claim his talents.

I skimmed across mention of a Type-C personality.

My impression was that this is a person who schedules their own lifestyle flow, according to the best support of their creativity.

This kind of takes a back seat for me.

Not just because of work needed for income, but because of adrenal depletion.

Once I am up and moving, I tend to keep going until my energy is beyond flailing.

I don’t know when to stop because everything seems important when there’s so much to get coordinated and progressing.

Plus, these past three years I was apparently fighting deep depression and crushing anxiety.

Not that it was always cycling in my head – in fact, I was in denial that I had any.

This is because it is important to me that I stay functional.

I do not like masticating when I could be innovating.

But, once we had arrived to the mountain, I was hit by a weight I struggled to manage.

Every day, it was on me – attempting to suppress and suffocate.

My body reacted by locking down muscles to slow movement, as if preparing for immanent attack.

We had just moved to predator country: bear, cougar, and rabid man.

We found ourselves not only 20 miles over hard terrain from any town, but 2 hours away from sensical civilization!

My mind and emotions were on high alert and negative reactive, as if we were nearing doomsday.

I was probably picking up on why people move to and have stayed there.

I think my being’s awareness just understood integrally that we had arrived to a dead-end situation.

No pun intended.

And somewhere, deep inside, I was screaming to be released from that situation.

Devotion to my parents complicated.

So now, the lingering effects are that I must rest – then rest again, when there is not something absolutely pressing.

I just gave too much at the cortisol shank bank.

For example, I was going to jump into the shower, but then had another thought to write.

My posture felt fatigued, so I crawled back into bed until the thought was captured.

Now, back comfortably nestled on the heating pad as l allow my body to relax again, I realize I still feel exhausted.

So, when I think of working closely with a person I greatly admire, I think about his schedule.

I think about his eating patterns and workout regime.

I think about his daily performance and the sleep loss he’s enduring.

And I ponder how I could even sync up with that kind of lifestyle.

I am simply where I am in my healing, and I would have to contribute independently.

I cannot ever let myself get this depleted again.

I need a life path that ensures my continued recovery.

“There’s no space or time for me – conscripted to a life of struggling.

How am I to uncover and reveal my talents with the jackals constantly nipping?

Storms blow apart cobbled shelters, and I am driven from society without reason.

Humans need something to hate – and because I’m different, they target me.”

Somewhere in her heart’s beat and inner ear, she could hear the sweetest rhythm and melodies – lost in translation as they filtered through her broken channels.

The talented band leader/musician renowned for discovering and elevating new talents to stardom cringed whenever he heard her off-kilter tonality, and discounted her creativity.

He did not realize nor think to dig beyond encased marble to discover that she was imbued with wild magic’s ingenuity.

He soon avoided her questions, countering them with deflections, as he focused upon his own conquests because his marriage was failing.

When she begged for guidance, he outright rejected her – believing she had no talents, whatsover, after the most brief assessments.

He was not attuned to seeking outside the realm of his own understanding.

Once a fragile creative, himself, he’d learned to become commanding.

Had he known about psychology, and how trauma suppresses and distorts emergence…

Had he decided to let the great love that poured freely from him to others fill the little girl to brimming beyond her vessel’s holding…

He would have discovered the miracle he’d searched for of love’s unending expansion – and his granddaughter would have carried on his legacy.

I have no idea how I will be able to have a good relationship again.

I say again, because on my end, I think I had a lot of positive going for me.

I contributed well and likely beyond usual requirements to ensure growth and positivity could flourish.

My partners ended up draining me, pulling themselves out of the water of life and just watching me tread water doing the work, while they sat on their shelving.

I don’t know how to find someone who will invest like me.

And honestly, I’m frightened of the commitment because I imagine it will at first make me feel quite disoriented.

How does one keep being themselves in a good partnership?

When can one relax and know the other won’t find excuse or reason to leave?

How do I find and identify an available man of excellent character and integrity?

I need someone who’s willing and able to give and receive beyond my dreams.

I say this because the ideal concept promises a better matching for mutual collaboration.

How does one gain cooperation from another person so that they are equally contributing?

I look back at past behaviors I worked on when I had personal failures, and I haven’t met someone willing to mirror me.

I’m not speaking of codependency, but of endurance and tenacity no matter the challenges.

I crave to have a deeply bonded love that is vital and dynamic.

I want someone who will recognize when the facade I am presenting is a survival mechanism – and to pull me out of such reveries.

I desire to have someone who wants to play and enjoys reciprocity.

It’s been said that if you name what you want, you will receive.

But, how can I be sure I’ve found what I’ll need?

Of course, all of this is just hypothesis.

I still remain isolated as I’m reemerging.

By default, this has become my normal state of being.

And, I kind of like it – because I like me.

Me is fragile…I don’t want to lose her.

I must curb how I repond to internal alarms begging for reactivity, rather than response.

It took more effort than I could ever give – but kept struggling to produce – when I lived on the mountain.

Then, my consciousness was blown wide open as I expanded beyond capacitkes to seek solutions.

When answers are not in reality, one is forced to travel other dimensions for innovation.

However, I am on “solid’ ground here.

No matter how my stability muscles still shake and ache from the moving and timespent scrabbling on the mountain, I can adjust.

I must believe in myself and streamline to mesh with my potential.

Being responsible for my parents’ satisfaction was a goal I could never achieve.

They are by nature easily dissatisfied, and I did not have the support nor power to fulfill their needs.

Plus, they are very powerful, so their “depending” on me while being completely capable plied at my boundaries, when I was already bending to be overly flexible.

From their point of view, they were frustrated because I could not fulfill their ideals of “simple” needs.

They had the money and resources.

They had the partnership and it was their property.

Every step I’d try to take on their behalf, they’d interfere with by vying for control, attempting to puppet my strings.

Oh! How they’d sigh in reminiscence for the previous lady catetakers’ competence!

Well, yeah – they gave her the authority and autonomy necessary for her to succeed.

They never fully trusted me, which imposed a constant sense I was trespassing as a burden, and just a “child in need.”

It was conveyed by their language, in talking-down-to-me tones, and by projected undercurrents of their own past wounding.

I was responsible for their feeling safe, secure, and healing – but they kept hamstringing my abilities to provide this.

I was placed in a situation where my energy was constantly drained without replenishment, leaving me the target of negative criticism.

What makes me thrive was absent. Nonexistent.

I had to keep recreating mere remnants of it, while the circumstances kept making me bleed.

Being away from all of that now leaves an ache that feels hollow.

A person gets used to the weight of chains: they feel like “home” in the absence of genuine affection.

Yet, now that I am breaking free and working on getting back for final cleanup, it is amazing to just focus on my own family.

My youngest and I put in a lot of growth together there – individually and regarding our relationship.

We still have the occasional squabble, but for the most part, we are getting our routines calibrated.

I am finding it helps that I no longer have my parents’ expectations crushing me.