March 13th, 2023- Dissemination Phase Sagittarius

It has been a viral sensation seeing Stevie Nicks hex her ex on stage by singing to him Silver Springs with such a passion. I have thoroughly enjoyed the content created and I have felt a spark of chills every time I see her look at him with such fierceness, such pain and genuine rage for the betrayal of a lie. For the breakage of a pure bond out of sin, out of blasphemy. I believe to have known all along why there was such a passion of “good for her,” flowing through my psyche. I did not want to surface it. However tonight as I continue to purge, purge and purge all of the baggage of my traumatic and delusional life, I release the final pain of my greatest heartache.

I was such a naive, broken little girl. I desperately sought love and romance. Living within my fairytale world, dissociated from the truth behind it all. I expressed some truth and insights, not totally in denial of the truth. There was a part of me that always saw it all along. I had attempted to fight the good fight, however it became easier and easier to ignore the truth and tell myself the fictional story that I desired it to be.

I was 19 yrs old, going to college with the drive to get a degree in a field that I truly did not care about. I can see the beauty in my OT schooling and how it assisted me along my path. However, I remember every time I had to lie to every interviewer, every admin about how I was passionate. I knew this was not where I wanted nor was I meant to be. However, under all the circumstances, I needed to make sure I could survive and then my dreams would be pursued later with the “help” of this straight and narrow path. The safe route. The route that looks good on paper and makes mom/dad proud. The route that put out every fire I had until I redirected that fire into something I believed would free me.

I had went to an All That Remains concert with my friend Brandi. It was such a fun night and a celebration of my birthday. A man I had met at a different concert happened to be at this show too. You see, Christopher Towning, had been the bass player to the band Devil Driver. Brandi and I had gotten obliterated within that pit. I had a mild concussion from that night. I had a huge man fall on my head stage surfing and my head hit the metal barricade. I was lifted out of the pit by a man and Brandi was grabbed next. We were taken backstage. It was such a surprise. I was 18 at the time. Brandi and I had just graduated high school. I was so stoked for this show and to rage. Carnifex was one of the opening bands. I was ready to fuck shit up, as my very insane god complex loves to preach. I am a very small, lean female. At this point, I had done some weight training and boxing, however my powerlifting career had not begun. I was significantly out of my league to be front and center of that pit. And yet, there I was forcing my friend to stand beside me and almost die as well.

Christopher had asked a crew member to retrieve Brandi and I from the pit. To save us. I thought it was the coolest experience. How fun of a story. We ended up hanging out back stage. We went to Denny’s together. I do recall they also asked for my ID. They did not ask for Brandi’s. She apparently looked older than me? Which I think had to do with the fact she was brunette and I was platinum blonde at the time. In hindsight I realize how disgusting of a situation that was. I was truly blind to the dangers of what this could all mean. I thought I was a cool chick, with a cool friend hanging out with some musicians who were as passionate about metal and music and etc etc as me. I truly felt the spark of living within that moment. I was growing with plans to become a radical adult and outshine the shadows of my horrendous small town and the life I was forced to live. I felt as if within that experience, I was getting a taste of what I knew my life would be when I was to leave Farmington, NM and see the world.

Christopher had added Brandi and I on Facebook. We didn’t speak after that night. I had a boyfriend or truly a talking phase situationship with another man that I was taking too seriously as I tended to do in all relationships. I have truly been baffled by how men will say something and not understand what it means to say something within those contexts. Either it’s an intentional lie or they truly are a stupid breed. I tend to be in favor of men as a happily married woman, knowing it is in fact not all men. However, the fucking frogs I had to fuck to get to my happily ever after felt as if I was entrapped in a Hostel Torture room or within one of the realms of Pinhead. I couldn’t win whether it was the crushes of my middle school or my first high school love. My first boyfriend, another man older than me. I 14 and him 17 when we began our relationship. I felt no one my age understood me nor did they like anything I enjoyed, nor did they know anything I knew. Older people in a very general sense seemed to click with me more. I understand the trauma response to this now. Nick Pacheco, my first love, my first failed relationship.

Nick was the captain of the wrestling team. The mans man. He was funny and enjoyed heavy music. I felt very shy around him, soft and timid. We met at a high school bon fire event before Homecoming. Neither of us had dates and flirted our way into going with one another. I was beyond excited that he would even slightly be interested in me. I had been made to feel alienated majority of my life for how I was, which is where I became shy. I really liked Nick. I loved Nick. I did not want him to leave and sense a pain I had long felt. A pain of abandonment from a messy few divorces, popular clique judgments and lack of acceptance within my family unit. I felt as if my nature of destruction was a curse. I buried it deep within me. So quiet I became. A chameleon, initiating the toxic traits within my personality. Instead of utilizing my power to relate to individuals to heal, I became the people pleaser.

Nick love bombed me. Filled with his own abandonment issues. His ex prior to me had cheated on him after 4 years of a childhood romance. His immature heart and mind was broken. Therefore he became jealous. I triggered his anger often. He spoke to me poorly. He cheated on me for my “immaturity” with sex, at 14 years old to remind you. After 1 year of an on and off again relationship, with continued emotional turmoil at home. Nick finally got what he was working so hard to steal. I have believed so many reasonings as to why he did what he did. I thought I reminded him of Lindsey, his ex who broke his heart. I felt like it was some subconscious revenge mixing with my own subconscious submission to my own trauma.

I enjoy humor, of all kinds, especially puns. I enjoy clean jokes. I enjoy sexual innuendos. I was always saying silly expressions of word play and hitting the one liner no matter the context. If the opportunity was present, I was ready to blurt it out. I had made a remark of a sexual innuendos to Nick one day. To which he became excited over and was again trying to push for the taking of my virginity. One of the issues within our entire engagement. I felt so pressured to give it to him, but I did not want to. I was scared and not ready and confused, guilted. I mentally was not prepared. However, if I was "going to make remarks like that, then I needed to follow through with them and not be stupid. Not be a tease." I explained myself, which did not matter. Again, misunderstood how lost in translation the event became and why there was such an anger. I have thought it over and over again as to how much better he could’ve responded and respected me, but yet he didn’t at all. I couldn’t believe to reflect how he had made it my problem. Of course this was just a deeper wound of his. The emotional and mental fuckery I have experienced is truly phenomenal. I cannot believe humans choose to react and respond this way. If Nick truly did not like me, love me, or only desired a specific outcome? Where is the honesty? Why am I naive to despise his thinking process? I understand he did it so he could get what he wanted. I am aware of the evil behind the grooming cons. However, I just do not understand why it is so easy for others to traumatize another person. I had told Nick yes to sex, when I wanted to say no. It was awkward and in his car out in the hills of our desert town. I didn’t make one sound the whole time. I betrayed myself. I broke away somewhere in my mind. It was truly all my fault. I could’ve kept saying no and maybe he couldn’t have ever gotten to me. I pursued him. Continuously, in fact I begged him to come back and not leave me. I never reported Nick to be a rapist or assault me in any way. I had a few friends tell me that was assault when I told them my story for the first time. You see, Nick told me I couldn’t tell anyone out of security for my dignity. But then he told the entire school I was a boring lay, that I only lay there and take it. He repeated the cycle with me one more time, assaulting me again, at my own expense. The psychology behind all of this fills me with so much rage. There are too many factors, too may people to blame in how this became a reality within my world. But at the end of it all, I betrayed myself. My greatest weakness was in thinking I was here to please others at my expense. To do what made them happy in order to keep the peace, because my loud destructive nature was wrong.

It wasn’t much later Nick went on to college and I was able to be removed from him. Fast forward to my Junior year of high school. I went to my first party with girls, who I was desperate to like me. They were cool and I wanted to quit being such a weird loser. I changed my clothes to preppy shit. I started to grow out my hair from my edgy cuts. I went to a high school party and drank a route 44 Sonic drink full of Vodka. Where I met Jordan Lucero. He took me out to his truck to get more alcohol. I was fairly drunk at this point. My second time being drunk ever, and definitely more than I ever had drank before at this time. Jordan sat me in the seat of his truck and started to kiss me. Which I enjoyed. I was happy to be kissing. He started to pull at my shorts. I told him I was too drunk. He said it was okay and laid on top of me. Pulled my shorts down and began to fuck me. I again did not say anything else. I let him kiss me and do what he wanted. He had sex with me at least 6 times that night. Each time I was in and out of consciousness. Remember bits and pieces of the awkwardness. Finally it was time for bed, to go home. He snuck me into his parents house, as I couldn’t go home. My mother would’ve killed me and I also could not drive. I thought it was time to finally sleep. I woke up with my face in a pillow and my dry vagina aching. I was making enough of an issue as I was waking up for him to stop. He said, “Oh I am sorry, let me get you lotion. I promise I’m about to finish finally. He spread lotion inside me like a gynecologist, ready to insert the most uncomfortable clips. It was another 10 minutes or so before he stopped. I rolled over and curled into a ball. He said, “Are you mad at me now? You don’t have to be mad. We can date.” We did not end up dating. However for a couple weeks of trying to rationalize my situation, to stop the rumors of the school calling me the party slut, I did believe we were talking and forming a relationship. Only for him to ghost me for another rich popular girl. After that moment, I no longer viewed sex as anything meaningful. My first 3 sexual experiences were as if I was a robot and it was happening to me, but I was not in control. It was more than out of body, but I have yet to truly understand what word or phrase that would be. A behavior and the essence of how I carried myself began to change. I became hyper-sexual in order to take back my control. Not caring about the emotional connection with a partner, but then crying out of betrayal to myself, for all my heart wanted was to be loved. My mind would not allow me to believe in love anymore. My actions were in direct opposition to what I desired most. The fantasy within my head became an escape and I created romanticized stories. I created dark humor and shrugged it all off my shoulders. Reciting my trauma and dumping onto others unwelcomingly in the most nonchalant presentation.

Now to redirect and fast forward back to me meeting Christopher. I felt a jolt, a spark of being reignited. Something was flaring within my mind. He had came back to my small town 6-9 months later after we met. He was doing road crew work for All That Remains. I had no longer been dating that guy and I dyed my hair from blonde to auburn, before I eventually went black. Christopher recognized Brandi, however I looked so new with my different hair. He said he couldn’t find our names on facebook and he truly couldn’t remember. I was being flirty and made him guess. He said, “Sarah? I just really remember Sarah.” I said it was me. He became so shocked and his eyes lit up. He said, “Wow do you look different. You look good.” We went back to the Denny’s we went to before and had another wonderful night. He got mine and Brandi’s number so he didn’t lose touch again. Him and I began talking that night and it was a roller coaster of a ride from there.

Christopher was 31, a few months away from 32 when I had just turned 19. We instantly began a flirty and sexual online interaction. We made plans to reunite as he was on tour back close to my town. I was shy and quiet. I was back into that good girl mindset upon that hotel weekend getaway. I knew and I knew he knew we were not a good fit from that moment, however there was such a weird connection as well. The sex was awkward and I was too anxious to sleep. My gut overwhelmed with a guilty sensation. Yet, we both felt drawn togerher. Whether it was my delusional force or his sexual desire, I am not sure. We did have some powerful and connective moments, but they were few and far between. In a reading it was a karmic relationship meant to be friendly. However the sexual attraction was too intoxicating. And yet, to this day I can't recall truly cumming. It was the pleasure of how turned on I made him. Another people pleasing delusion filled with lies to boost his ego in hopes he would love me. We had an on and off again type of relationship. I had asked him a thousand times what he wanted from me. He told me how much he cared and wanted me. He said our long distance situations made shit difficult. I created solutions, however I was truly running the show. The reign master to my own abuse and demise. I moved to Michigan to be with him. He said all we needed was time together and to close the gap. I had never worked so hard at a love. To prove myself to him. I gave him money to assist with his finances and make his dreams come true. I showered him with love and attention. I begged him in the most desperate and pathetic ways to give me crumbs of attention. I uprooted my entire life and became lost in who I wanted to be and who I felt I had to be for him, another version of myself for my family and the personality continued to split and split.

Christopher ended things with me after stating I was too stressful. I had a whole panic attack filled with screaming “Don’t leave me’s.” I had broken. I had never felt so unstable and emotionally insane. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t understand how nothing added up. I kept saying, “But you said. You said.” I would repeat everything he ever said with perfect precision. I could read the texts in my minds eye and with screenshots to prove it. I was shocked to truly experience how much someone could lie for their own selfish gain. He kept me around because of how much he loved my love for him. He wanted my energy, my power, my benefits. He was a loser, a pathetic predator of a man, manipulating a young girl who was 13 years younger than him. I had to go to the urgent care for an EKG. I had high blood pressure and chest pains. It felt as if my heart was a gong and someone as large as the hulk hit it with all their might. I was almost hospitalized. However, they sent me home with a heart monitor instead and I had to have ultrasounds on my heart. It turned out, Christopher had began to make his moves with a woman from Australia. Someone who was just a friend. He was talking to her, while we were over, but still in the midst of processing it all out. He continued to sext me, he would make plans with me, only to cancel last minute. I discovered then she was in town as he was avoiding me. She came to spend a few weeks with him. He finally completely ended it. I broke down and told him what a piece of shit he was for all he did to me, when he had every opportunity to be honest. I gave him chances to tell me he didn’t want me and every time he said he wanted me to stay and we would figure it out. He used work and every other excuse in the book why I had to be on the back burner, but he wold never let me go. He said he felt “super guilty” for what he did to me. We went to dinner one last time, the final nice thing he did for me, to say goodbye by my wishes.

I made him give me back every dime I gave him. I sent him every little reminder I had of him. His now wife had moved to the states to be with him. The woman I ultimately feel left for. Only to find out months later by some mutual friends; mutual friends that somehow happen to both know Christopher and myself. The world and universe truly is small. I met these people separate from Christopher, not knowing they knew him at all. We figured out who knows who and I find out he had portrayed to a select few I was a psychotic, delusional and obsessed groupie and many didn’t know I existed at all.

The lies of a long distance relationship unraveled before me. It had taken me a very long time to heal these wounds. I had a destructive couple of years. I fully detached from myself. When my heart felt that intense pain, it truly felt as if it had literally broken. I began to cope the way I was taught to cope from my childhood. I realized the darkness I was swimming within. I continued to date and try to heal, however back into that same pattern of my actions misaligning with what I truly wanted. I pushed everyone away. I felt as if I was locked inside myself and another detached essence had taken over. I still laughed and smiled. I could be so much fun at events. I had to pretend to be the fun crazy person who only wanted to be rich and travel the world, Carpe Diem with the responsibility of a job that paid me enough to do what I want despite it crushing my soul. I pushed down all of my feelings. I detached to any sort of sensation. I made everyone happy. I had moments where I called out for help and so many people saw me fall apart, only to not come close to being able to give the support I needed. Not to any fault of their own. It was help only I could give myself.

This is how I began my witchcraft journey. I was already goth and in the shadows. Christianity had failed me as a child, why not dive deep into satanism. One extreme to the other. Through this path I had begun to find myself. It wasn’t but 9 months after starting my healing journey did I meet my husband, Chad. I had wanted to heal my heartache desperately. I was manifesting my dream partner. My knight in shining armor. The one who would fulfill my Phantom of the Opera fantasies. The one who truly saw me and only wanted to do what was best for me. My Asmoday. 9 Months of inner work and truly aligning with what I wanted, being honest with myself, I called out and my twin flame answered. We were not ready for each other until that moment. Chad has taught me the deepest truths, depths, lengths and works of love. He has saved me, but loving me as I saved myself. He became the earth for my airy feet to land, to ground. He became the destructive force willing to dance beside me, as a twister forms in the stormy sky. Through the storm of finding each other, we were able to find ourselves. A love that moves mountains and changes the world. A love that will haunt the minds of all the souls who strove to rise from the ashes of our demise by their hands.