The Dark Feminine

A year ago I began my descent into the deep, dark feminine...

She beckoned me like a crooked witch’s finger down her path and lit me from the inside with remembrance of my mystery school teachings from lifetimes ago.

I went down hard. And fast.

(One of the very patterns She was here to help me dismantle: My Rusher.)

Her work was to undress me. To peel away layers of pretense and patterns and bullshit conditioning.

To feel the real thing underneath.

The rage.

The terror.

The grief.

But first She had to show me all the games I was playing. And it was horrifying to see.

Everywhere I looked there was my bullshit, and it was terrifying. This is when I went off IG last year.

'Journal Entry, Nov. 2021'

I'm trying So Hard to be clean that I am not clean. Even when I’m so so sure it’s true, it’s still got game to it.

My ego is like a fun house of crazy mirrors, I’m seeing its pretense at every turn. And everywhere I look, there I still am. It's a complete mindfuck. Like I'm in the evil corn maze and I cant see my way out.

It’s a perfectionism / shame pattern that just can’t exist here. It wants to do The Feminine perfectly and it’s like complete implosion.

I’ve been close to collapse several times. Ready to abort mission. Back to the numb unconscious comfort. Like way the fuck back.

I've felt victimized by the enormity of it. And I want to hide.

But I can’t even hide but that would be pretense too.

Also, I’m realizing I’m actually fucking terrified of criticism. I have a trauma response in my body when I think of it. Nauseous, heart racing.

When I receive it (even ‘constructively’) it feels like waves of sting-y hot shame. Like actual back-handed strokes.

My fear of being corrected paralyzes me. And in this spot, I am correcting everyone else. More game.

Also, in my work everything I created is no longer true. So I am in a purgatory of nothingness.

My mind is panicked: how do I exist in this place?

I want someone to talk to help me work this through, but it’s because I want to dump or be saved because I can barely hold myself.

And I’m fighting like hell about surrendering into the final abyss - clawing onto the sides of the crevasse…