There is risk to the way I write. Not because what I write uses specific names. Not because I write about "risky" subjects. The risk is in sharing pieces of myself with total strangers.
Through online feedback, emails, and social media posts, you, dear readers, tell me that my words illuminate your worlds. That's amazing...humbling. In return for your generosity and kindness, I promise to always provide free blog content. And yet, it's important to note that the risks still exist.
A good example is a man who began following my social media accounts in 2015. He had connected with me on Twitter after I was scheduled to appear at a convention in the Southwest. I ended up cancelling my appearance when contractual obligations were not met by event organizers, one of whom was eventually jailed. False contracts are particularly common with small fan-conventions, especially conventions connected to the paranormal.
The paranormal community is riddled with cons--not just events, but people, too. I had to cancel my appearance at a similar event near Nashville for the very same reason. Prior to the event, I learned the partner who had issued my contract had also been arrested.
My new follower became a fan of my blog, particularly the #TwinFlames category. We would often talk about #1111 on social media...until a few months ago. Then, there was a sudden change. Instead of public tweets, he was sending private messages.
These private messages were justified as "communications" from my daughter, #Emma, who died in 2014...and, rather conveniently, arrived only AFTER I posted something on social media about her.
Nothing this man said about my daughter was news. To anyone. Everything that he implied was a "message" from her was readily available in either my recent social media threads or in past blog posts. I tolerated his behavior because I could feel his pain, pain I could relate to. He had confided in me about current and past difficulties, and though I do not doubt this man suffered greatly, there's still no excuse for using the memory of my child in the way he did.
While compassion is never a sin, being an apologist is. There is a difference. Just like there is a difference between the spirit of my daughter supposedly talking to a stranger 3,000 miles away, and what was nothing more and nothing less than this stranger's jealousy at seeing tweets between me and a male friend on my public Twitter-feed. Although, how or why that applied to him is still a mystery. It's wildly inappropriate to use a dead baby to not only attempt to extort information about my private life, but to do so as a means to facilitate a relationship with me. Period.
When something like what I describe above happens, I have no other choice but to block that individual. None. It doesn't make me an egomaniac because I refuse to be victimized; it makes me sane. When this man went "off script" and attempted to truly read my lost baby girl--believing himself a medium, as many involved in the paranormal do--he was consistently wrong:
"Emma says red is your favorite color."
No, it's not. Right now, I love turquoise. Tomorrow, it might be aqua. Or, teal. Blues and greens soothe my soul. But I did write about a red room in 2006; this same essay is prominently featured on my website and has been republished in multiple literary magazines for the last decade. In other words, it's very easy to find. The piece is so "famous," it's now included in an anthology by Dinty W. Moore, an award-winning author and essayist, as well as the editor of a prominent literary journal that specializes in nonfiction essays. When I pointed that out, he quickly added, "Oh, okay...Emma must have been telling me that red is her favorite color."
And, that's when I blocked him.
Not only had he admitted to having read through my feed as prompts for personal questions, the elaborate fantasy of the non-existent relationship my follower had with the somehow snarky soul of my dead baby--whom he relayed was teasing him for not having the guts to ask me love-related questions--was beyond disturbing. To be clear, I wasn't "freaked out" by his "abilities." I was horrified that any human being would attempt to exploit a woman that way. A mother who lost her child. It's truly horrific...even if the initial intentions weren't.
Negative energy only perpetuates negatives. Blocking seems like a negative thing to do. And it is, if you are doing it to abandon your responsibility to others. But it's not negative if it's done in self-defense. And, in this case, it was. This man may resent my actions, but I was not only saving myself from future heartache, I was also saving him from continuing down a path of no return. This way, no harm...no foul.
That's part of the danger of believing in things you can't see or hear. You essentially have no boundaries. You don't require verification or validation for whatever you feel is real. However, in the real-real world, when a person you've never met before creates an intricate fantasy-narrative surrounding you, your life and your family based on information from the internet, it's called cyberstalking. French theorist Jean Baudrillard referred to reality as "the desert of the real," because, thanks to technology's expansion of virtual worlds, more and more people are losing their ability to tell the difference.
I'm not a public psychic, but I do acknowledge that there is more to this world than we yet know. I sense things, feel things...the difference is, I don't use it to hold anyone emotional hostage. That's what it felt like when my social media follower began sending me regular private messages describing his supposed relationship with the ghost of my dead daughter this past December. She never had the chance to live a single day. Yet, this person was now telling me that my long-dead baby was somehow talking to him as if she were an adult...and worse, as if they were partners-in-crime.
I never even got to hold #Emma in my arms. No matter how much compassion I had for this man, no matter how much pain he was suffering...I did not have to suffer, too. Every time he messaged me about #Emma, I listened because I hoped that maybe, there was a kernel of truth to it. It was crushing to read the things he was saying; I'd cry for hours afterward. Made me wonder why I was allowing myself to be hurt by anyone, let alone a person I really didn't know.
No one is perfect, certainly not me. I'm just living my life each day and writing about it, trying to make sense of all the evil things that have happened to me, to you, and to the world. Loneliness can drive anyone to desperation. No matter who you are or where you are in your life, we're all just trying to survive. So, let's make it easier on each other, shall we???
Respect people's space. Be kind when someone has suffered losses you haven't. Be even more so when you do.
#WritersBlock
#TwinFlame #AwakeLife Post-script: In #2016, I wrote #Joy on #224 hoping that writing it on that date would somehow bring it to me. But, with 55 days of #2017 already gone, it's clear #Joy may have taken a little detour. Yet again. No one knows what the future holds. However, I can tell you that one year from today, I'm getting on a plane and landing on a beach somewhere sunny. Maybe #Joy will find me there? Either way, #Joy is always welcome....
Through online feedback, emails, and social media posts, you, dear readers, tell me that my words illuminate your worlds. That's amazing...humbling. In return for your generosity and kindness, I promise to always provide free blog content. And yet, it's important to note that the risks still exist.
A good example is a man who began following my social media accounts in 2015. He had connected with me on Twitter after I was scheduled to appear at a convention in the Southwest. I ended up cancelling my appearance when contractual obligations were not met by event organizers, one of whom was eventually jailed. False contracts are particularly common with small fan-conventions, especially conventions connected to the paranormal.
The paranormal community is riddled with cons--not just events, but people, too. I had to cancel my appearance at a similar event near Nashville for the very same reason. Prior to the event, I learned the partner who had issued my contract had also been arrested.
My new follower became a fan of my blog, particularly the #TwinFlames category. We would often talk about #1111 on social media...until a few months ago. Then, there was a sudden change. Instead of public tweets, he was sending private messages.
These private messages were justified as "communications" from my daughter, #Emma, who died in 2014...and, rather conveniently, arrived only AFTER I posted something on social media about her.
Nothing this man said about my daughter was news. To anyone. Everything that he implied was a "message" from her was readily available in either my recent social media threads or in past blog posts. I tolerated his behavior because I could feel his pain, pain I could relate to. He had confided in me about current and past difficulties, and though I do not doubt this man suffered greatly, there's still no excuse for using the memory of my child in the way he did.
While compassion is never a sin, being an apologist is. There is a difference. Just like there is a difference between the spirit of my daughter supposedly talking to a stranger 3,000 miles away, and what was nothing more and nothing less than this stranger's jealousy at seeing tweets between me and a male friend on my public Twitter-feed. Although, how or why that applied to him is still a mystery. It's wildly inappropriate to use a dead baby to not only attempt to extort information about my private life, but to do so as a means to facilitate a relationship with me. Period.
When something like what I describe above happens, I have no other choice but to block that individual. None. It doesn't make me an egomaniac because I refuse to be victimized; it makes me sane. When this man went "off script" and attempted to truly read my lost baby girl--believing himself a medium, as many involved in the paranormal do--he was consistently wrong:
"Emma says red is your favorite color."
No, it's not. Right now, I love turquoise. Tomorrow, it might be aqua. Or, teal. Blues and greens soothe my soul. But I did write about a red room in 2006; this same essay is prominently featured on my website and has been republished in multiple literary magazines for the last decade. In other words, it's very easy to find. The piece is so "famous," it's now included in an anthology by Dinty W. Moore, an award-winning author and essayist, as well as the editor of a prominent literary journal that specializes in nonfiction essays. When I pointed that out, he quickly added, "Oh, okay...Emma must have been telling me that red is her favorite color."
And, that's when I blocked him.
Not only had he admitted to having read through my feed as prompts for personal questions, the elaborate fantasy of the non-existent relationship my follower had with the somehow snarky soul of my dead baby--whom he relayed was teasing him for not having the guts to ask me love-related questions--was beyond disturbing. To be clear, I wasn't "freaked out" by his "abilities." I was horrified that any human being would attempt to exploit a woman that way. A mother who lost her child. It's truly horrific...even if the initial intentions weren't.
Negative energy only perpetuates negatives. Blocking seems like a negative thing to do. And it is, if you are doing it to abandon your responsibility to others. But it's not negative if it's done in self-defense. And, in this case, it was. This man may resent my actions, but I was not only saving myself from future heartache, I was also saving him from continuing down a path of no return. This way, no harm...no foul.
That's part of the danger of believing in things you can't see or hear. You essentially have no boundaries. You don't require verification or validation for whatever you feel is real. However, in the real-real world, when a person you've never met before creates an intricate fantasy-narrative surrounding you, your life and your family based on information from the internet, it's called cyberstalking. French theorist Jean Baudrillard referred to reality as "the desert of the real," because, thanks to technology's expansion of virtual worlds, more and more people are losing their ability to tell the difference.
I'm not a public psychic, but I do acknowledge that there is more to this world than we yet know. I sense things, feel things...the difference is, I don't use it to hold anyone emotional hostage. That's what it felt like when my social media follower began sending me regular private messages describing his supposed relationship with the ghost of my dead daughter this past December. She never had the chance to live a single day. Yet, this person was now telling me that my long-dead baby was somehow talking to him as if she were an adult...and worse, as if they were partners-in-crime.
I never even got to hold #Emma in my arms. No matter how much compassion I had for this man, no matter how much pain he was suffering...I did not have to suffer, too. Every time he messaged me about #Emma, I listened because I hoped that maybe, there was a kernel of truth to it. It was crushing to read the things he was saying; I'd cry for hours afterward. Made me wonder why I was allowing myself to be hurt by anyone, let alone a person I really didn't know.
No one is perfect, certainly not me. I'm just living my life each day and writing about it, trying to make sense of all the evil things that have happened to me, to you, and to the world. Loneliness can drive anyone to desperation. No matter who you are or where you are in your life, we're all just trying to survive. So, let's make it easier on each other, shall we???
Respect people's space. Be kind when someone has suffered losses you haven't. Be even more so when you do.
#WritersBlock
#TwinFlame #AwakeLife Post-script: In #2016, I wrote #Joy on #224 hoping that writing it on that date would somehow bring it to me. But, with 55 days of #2017 already gone, it's clear #Joy may have taken a little detour. Yet again. No one knows what the future holds. However, I can tell you that one year from today, I'm getting on a plane and landing on a beach somewhere sunny. Maybe #Joy will find me there? Either way, #Joy is always welcome....
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