Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The Bad Student, Part Smm Smm

Dear Dad,

Seriously, why does time go by so freaking fast? I swear, it feels like yesterday since I've written to you, and yet it has been weeks! Oh well. I'd much rather be busy than bored. An active mind, especially in my case, is much better than a depressed mind, though, I still hold the firm belief that laziness is absolutely ESSENTIAL and should be practiced in every aspect of life, regardless of what you are doing.

Don't worry, though. I still remember EVERYTHING that was said between Grandmama and I on that crazy September night about Nevaeh and a half weeks ago. And, so does Giovanna. She might not remember it in quite the same detail that I do because of how drunk she was, but she certainly does remember that we talked. I have Smm Smm emails to prove it, though none of them show the SLIGHTEST bit of remorse, as you will soon see when I publish them along with this story. OOOOOOHHHHH… YESSSSSSS!

I am TOTALLY publishing them with the story. Oh, YES-SIR-EEE-BOB!!

Both of her emails sound totally crazy, especially the second email, the one where she is "sharing a mindful thought" with me. It was so bizarre and mind-boggling with pure insanity that I didn't even bother reading the whole thing. But, be my guest and read it all… if you can.

The first email, on the other hand, was written to me Smm Smm Smm Smm days after our conversation and it definitely referenced our conversation as you will see if you choose to view the emails that she wrote me, either forgetting that I had told her, repeatedly, that any messages or emails that she sends me will be published on this blog for all to read at their own leisure and for entertainment's sake, or she didn't believe that I really would do it, though I can't fathom why she wouldn't believe me. After all, I did publish one of her extremely insane, abusive messages on my blog about Nevaeh years ago, did I not? It's still up on my blog, in case you haven't listened to it already. I won't write down what the emails said in this story because, you have eyes. Or at least, you DID have eyes last time I saw you. So, therefore, you can read them yourself…

Can't you?

After I read her first email, I felt like writing back to her this:

I wouldn't be so sure of my undying love that you think I have for you if I were you. You have a lot of nerve writing to me like nothing ever happened, and, I feel that this is worth mentioning, the lack of apology from you in this email is utterly disgusting and appalling! Don't defile my computer with your filthy letters anymore!

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

But, all noses of my friends urged me to ignore her, so, in spite of myself, I did. After all, ignoring her would hurt her more than writing an angry reply. She wanted to keep the fire going. I, too, wanted to keep it well stoked and burning high and mighty, but I wasn't going to let it burn at my expense. The tables were turning now: the fire was going to turn on HER now!

So, back to our conversation. I was still sitting in my bedroom on my bed, surrounded by all of my imaginary demons.

A couple of seconds of silence went by and, for a fleeting second, I thought that my grandmother had passed out from all the booze. But, then!

"I can't get a good reading on you. All that my third eye can see is thick, white mist and it's blurring everything around me. So, that justifies that my assumption that you are, indeed manic, is correct, is it not?"

"I don't know," I said, not bothering to stifle my giggle.

"Why don't you ask The Creator of All That Is From The Seventh Plane? Maybe you will get an answer if he's not too busy laughing his pants off. Maybe he will take away whatever it is that is clouding up your third eye!"

The Creator of All That Is From The Seventh Plane is basically God to the followers of Theta, though they don't call him God. Actually, they refuse to give the Creator a specific gender at all. Isn't that strange?

"And," I continued, laughing still harder and quickening the tempo of my rocking without really realizing it or giving it much thought,

"I thought that you aren't supposed to go up to Theta when you are drunk. And, before you do a reading on another person, you are SUPPOSED to ask for their permission, are you not?"

"Welllll," Giovanna said in a slow, perplexed voice. "You and I are so connected in spirit that I didn't need to ask your permission out loud over the phone. You gave me permission to do a reading and a healing on you without even realizing it."

"Oh, did I now?" I said in a mocking voice.

"Hmmm, that's funny, because, just a minute ago, we weren't really even talking about you doing readings and healings on people. So, how do you figure that my brain magically consented to you sifting through the insides of my soul or wherever the hell you look into with your third eye when we weren't even talking about that?"

"I just know, Ashlee," she said, very defensively. "I just know and I went with it."

"Well, either your third eye is very faulty, or you didn't really get permission to look inside of me. So… which one is it?"

"It's neither of those things," Giovanna said. "Like I said before, you are too manic right now, completely ungrounded. You are all over the place, fly-away-ee sort of like."

"Well, I'm going to contact Anana and tell her that you are being a very, very bad Theta student if you keep trying to invade my soul," I said, still giggling mirthlessly. "And, I'm going to tell her that you are attempting to "heal" people while under the influence of alcohol and possibly other drugs. She will NOT be very happy with you. For all I know, she might take away your Theta medals or whatever they're called, that you earned from taking all those mumbo jumbo, eight hours a day, three week classes in bumfuck nowhere deep in the jungle of Washington. You are, after all, an EX drug addict, so, for all I know, you got back on the wagon and are under the influence of MUCH more than alcohol. It sure sounds like it from the way you are talking, anyway."

"I have done nothing of the sort," Giovanna half-shouted.

"And, Anana won't believe you. She knows how unstable you are, how much you relish in hurting and saddening my heart. I'll simply tell her the truth… that you aren't taking your prescribed medication for your bipolar psychosis and that you are a danger to both yourself and those around you."

"EEEEEEEEEKKKK, I'm SOOOOOOOO afraid. And, if you really feel that way about me, why call? And, good luck proving that I'm not taking meds. I DARE YOU TO TRY IT!!!"

I said in a very low, pretend shaky voice, then plunged my face into my pillow and laughed my ass off until my sides and stomach burned like I had just swallowed an entire bottle full of battery acid.

When I had finally ceased laughing, I said, "Okay, I'm back now. So, what do you want to talk about now, dear, drunk, hypocritical, dying, terminally ill and in severe denial about it, bad Theta student?"

"Well, I'm wondering about what's SO awesome in your life now?"

Again, I was taken aback by this sudden oddball question. I suppose when you are drunk, it is hard to focus on one topic. But, even if Grandma hadn't been under the influence, I can' only imagine how eager she would be to get onto another subject. This conversation wasn't, exactly, going the way she had planned it would go. None of her plans were going as she had thought or wanted them to turn out.

"I already told you all the goodness that is happening in my life. It's not my fault that you chose not to listen, that you chose to turn a deaf ear to your fancy Smart Phone while I was in the middle of speaking."

Silence again.

Stunned you, did I, now, Giovanna?

Well, that's a first. We'll have to put that in a historical memoir or biography of you sometime.

Oh, that's right! Nobody's written anything about you. Well, nobody's written anything about you that you want to read, that you are proud of, that is.

And, I hate to burst your overweight and grossly infested with grandiosity, bubble, but, nobody WILL ever write a historical biography or memoir about you because, nobody really likes you. You are an evil, hateful, hurtful, destructive person. I highly doubt that I will be the only one celebrating when you draw your last breath.

The silence stretched on. This time, though, I knew that she was still awake and tuned into the conversation. So, I chose to break the silence.

"Tell me, what's so great about YOUR life?"

"Well, as you know, I've sold my condo. Finally, right?"

"Yeah, finally," I agreed.

"And, people are being very generous to me. So many of my friends have opened their doors to me. They have told me that I am welcome to stay with them whenever I want, and Sarah and Dave have let me keep some of my things at their houses. And, of course, your mother has let me keep my really important things at her house, but, I wouldn't expect anything else from her. She is such a wonderful, good-hearted daughter. I love her so much. It's wonderful to know that I will never be destitute. There are always people who care about me and who are willing to help in any way that I can. I am in GOOD SSSSHHHHH-AAAAAAAA-PE! And, as for Dave… well, I've got him wrapped around my little finger."

Translation: My life is going so great! So many people have taken in some of my crap because I have too much of it to be able to keep it all in one, giant, 3000 or whatever it is, square foot house, even though I am currently occupying the largest room in it. I can't stay with Jennifer all the time because we step on each other's toes, so Dave, my faithful friend, lets me stay with him when things at Jennifer's house gets too stressful for me. Dave thinks that we are boyfriend and girlfriend, but we aren't really. I'm just using him like I use everyone else who I happen to meet along the course of my life. But, that's no surprise, him letting me stay there and keep some things at his house. I always knew he would if and when the time ever came for it. He's such a sucker.

As for Jennifer… Well, I've ALWAYS had her wrapped around my little finger, too. My OTHER little finger. Trained her up right from babyhood, I did, and a magnificent job I did, too, if I do say so myself. She does everything I want her to do, no questions asked. Just like every little girl should. I will always remember her as a child. She will always be my baby in my eyes, a child, forever-more… forever-more… forever-more…

"Are you mostly staying at my mom's house?" I asked, genuinely curious about this.

"No, I'm not. The animals at her house drive me crazy, particularly the dog, and I don't want to get in the way of her and Coalie. I sometimes stay over there when she isn't working, but, when she goes to work, I stay at Dave's. It's too awkward to stay at her house with Coalie."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," I told her.

"Coalie isn't, exactly, what you would call, a welcoming host, now, is he?"

"Yes he is," Giovanna snapped defensively. It was so sudden and her voice was so loud that I actually jumped. Since WHEN did she start defending Coalie?

"Oh yeah? Then why don't you stay there when Mom's gone?"

"Because I don't want to get in his way, or to intrude on his space."

"Hmmm, that's funny," I said, the mockery having returned suddenly back to my voice once more. "Because you never gave a damn at all, ever before, about intruding on Mom's space or MY space or Giselle's space before."

"Well, family is different," said Giovanna, speaking in such a tone as one would give when trying to explain that three minus two equals one to an ADHD ridden toddler. "When it's family, you don't need to worry about intruding on one another's space because family are supposed to be close, both physically and emotionally. I've always brought your mom up that way and I raised Giselle to hold those beliefs, too. I know that your mom did everything in her power to bring you up to believe just how valuable and important family is, and I daresay that she did a great job. If it hadn't been for that evil, Satanic boyfriend of yours… CHRIS!"

She spat out the name as if spitting out a Skittle that she thought was a normal, sweet flavored Skittle, but which turned out to be a sour Skittle, its surface covered up with sour powder, just for the sake of surprising whoever dared put it in his or her mouth.

"Everything would be fine. We would all be together, close, united, and happy, as we used to be six long, sad years ago."

Close?

United?

HAPPY?!!!!!!

Seriously, what planet had SHE been living on when I lived at home? Or was SHE the delusional one in the picture, trying to frame me as being the crazy one to prevent her own crazy self from being totally uncovered… Exposed…

Once and for ALL!!

"Oh yes, happy times, happy times," I mumbled sarcastically. "Wish I could go back in time and relive those happy, precious moments."

"Well, you can't exactly go back in time and relive those happy, precious times," said Giovanna, either misreading my sarcasm completely or choosing to ignore it intentionally, just as she ignored everyone else when they tried to get a point across to her, or their hurt feelings that they would FUTILY, try to voice to her, to make her understand, when she would carelessly trod…

NO:

STOMP…

on them until they were reduced to nothing but tiny fragments scattered all over the floor of the minds of her frequent prey, in more instances than not, irrepairable… forever damaged…

Beyond repair!!

"You can, however, make more happy memories by choosing to get close to us again, to move back to Jefferson or Kitsap county and live life the way it was before you met that awful person."

"Naw, I'm good, but thanks for the invitation," I said, the idiotic smile returning to my face again, though, this time, I had control of it.

"You know, Ashlee, you don't know someone, I mean, REALLY KNOW SOMEONE, for twenty years."

Again with the random sentence thrown out from who knows where. Seriously, I didn't know that liquor had such a short attention span. I mean, I knew that drunks had a difficult time keeping track of a conversation a bit, but I never knew the utter rapidity in which they could change subjects in the matter of a second. Honestly, it was intoxicating for ME to have to listen to it! My brain was REELING from the effort of trying to keep up. And, I was the sober one here!

"And… your point?"

I was not angry when I asked this. I was genuinely curious about what she would say, how she would justify that random bit of gibberish that had just appeared out of thin air. More than feeling angry by this conversation, I was starting to feel amused. Giddy, even!

How is Giovanna feeling now, I thought to myself as I sat, rocking still, on my bed, though the tempo had slowed a bit now.

And, how often does this thought ever hit Giovanna? Wondering how a person TRULY is feeling at a particular moment?

Was she even capable of conjuring up that thought? In the long-ago past, perhaps?

Is her brain capable of it now?

Has it EVER been capable of sending out empathy or sympathy messages so that she would react accordingly to a given situation?

Was she able to be kind to people before she turned to drugs and alcohol as her vice to escape whatever pain and trauma she had experienced in life that lead her to those toxic substances in the first place?

Had Giovanna EVER, in her entire life, possessed a heart?

If so, what happened to it?

Where has it gone?

Is it still inside of her, somewhere?

Could it ever be unearthed if she wanted it to be?

Can it be unearthed before her illness takes over and ends her life?

Does she even WANT to rediscover her lost heart?

Is this why she has turned to the Theta Healing cult? To fill in the deep, wide, gaping hole that had once occupied a kind, caring, affectionate, remorseful, empathetic, sympathetic heart, with the hopes that, someday, she will rediscover the heart that had, somehow, left her many, many years ago?

"My point, Ashlee, is that you don't hardly know Chris. How long have you known him?"

"Hmmmm, about Smm Smm Smm Smm years."

"Oh, don't give me that stupid Smm Smm crap!" she yelled. Now I knew how she was feeling… ANGRY!

Good! Serves her right!

"Okay, well, four years, then, or, as I like to say, Smm Smm Smm Smm years."

"Okay, well, that means that you still have sixteen years to really, REALLY know him."

"Wow, that's a lot of Smm Smms," I commented, debating with myself about whether or not I should say Smm Smm a whole bunch until the number sixteen was met to REALLY get under her skin.

"Not lazy enough," growled Bryan from over by the window where he was looking out at the velvety black sky, wondering when the next bout of rain would arrive. As much as I water Bryan, thirty-three times a day to be exact, he is always, forever thirsty. He absolutely loves the rain, which is one reason why I don't intend to leave Washington State. I mean, seriously, Dad, if there is another state that rains more than Washington, I would be at a loss of words if someone ever told me of another place that is wetter and soggier than Washington. The great, Northwestern state of mildew!

"All righty then," I said to Bryan. "I will remember that. Thanks for the reminder."

"Your quite welcome."

"Well, in the four years that I've known Chris, he's been nothing but good to me. Kind to me. Loving to me. Unlike," I said loudly, inhaling quickly.

"YOU AND JENNIFER!"

"Oh, come off it, Ashlee," yelled Giovanna, even louder still. "He's possessed you with his black magic. Seriously, every time I do a reading on you, especially lately, there is always this big, black shadow hovering over you. When I asked Anana about it, she said that it is a psychic hook, very powerful and wicked indeed. She has removed it, several times, but it keeps coming back. The last time she removed it, she said that it was lodged deep in your back. She has removed it about six times, and it keeps returning. Which leaves me to come to one conclusion… that Chris is possessing you and that you are ALLOWING it to happen. You are calling the shadow onto you, inviting it in."

"Interesting," I said.

"You can laugh about it all you want, Ashlee, but this is no laughing matter," growled Giovanna. I'd bet anything that her nostrils were flared. She was definitely wired with anger!

"Chris has got you wrapped around his LITTLE finger and he's had you like that for FOUR YEARS!!!"

"You would know," I said scathingly, though not really feeling angry, even though she was insulting my boyfriend. It just all sounded so ridiculous, too crazy really, to get angry. I knew that, if Chris were sitting next to me on my bed right then, listening in on this conversation, he would laugh, too. He would not be angry in the least.

"And, what, exactly is THAT supposed to mean?"

"Well, you've had at least forty years of experience, probably even longer than that, of wrangling people into your life and then wrapping them around your little finger. So, yeah, you would be an expert on knowing when a person has someone wrapped around their finger. Tell me, Grandmama, because I am quite dying to know, how many little fingers do you have now? I'd imagine you have way more of them than Smm Smm, am I right in making this assumption?"

"No, you are grossly inaccurate," she said triumphantly.

"Wow, so you have MORE than what I thought you had! WOW, I've really underestimated you and your evil ways! Congratulations on fooling me yet again!"

"I don't appreciate this disrespect from you."

"Then hang up the phone already!" I said, positively bouncing up and down on my bed, wearing out the aged foam even more in the process, no doubt.

"You know," Giovanna rambled on, completely oblivious to my suggestion that she ought to end the phone call if she was feeling as hurt and disrespected as she claimed to be feeling,

"Anana won't even work on you anymore. She told me the last time that she removed that hook from you that she does not help people who do not wish to help themselves. She only works on people who are working on themselves as well, people who actually want to change, to be helped. I can honestly say that I do not blame her in the least. I have stopped working on you, too, although I must say that when I work on myself, which I have been doing a lot of, that it inevitably effects you and Amira Brigit Allert without me even asking the Creator of All That Is to help you two and to heal you two from karmic trauma, to remove psychic hooks, and so on. All the work that I am doing now affects…"

"Seven generations back and seven generations ahead," I finished for her, clapping my hands in mock celebration.

"Way to go Giovanna! Let the celebration begin! Helping dead people seven generations back! What MAGIC it is!"

"You're right," Giovanna said loudly. "Theta IS magic."

"What?!!!"

Did she REALLY just say that? Seriously, they must have the best brainwashing techniques of all time. I'd like to know how to do them. I'd like to know how to scam people like the Theta teachers, or, no, excuse me, the Theta "HEALERS", like they are scamming suckers like my grandma. And Chris would like to know, too. He's told me.

"Yes, Ashlee, Theta is magic. It's magic from the light! It's not the kind of magic that Chris…"

Again, she spat out the name as though someone had force-fed her a dead and rotting rat.

"practices. It's not the same kind of magic that YOU practice. Dark magic. Black magic. Magic of the dark. No, this is magic from the light, because, I, Giovanna (She proceeded to speak out her entire name, though I, unfortunately can't write it down on here for legal reasons) choose to walk in the light. I choose to only allow positive energy into my life. Positive, good, radiant energy from the light, sent to me by The Creator of All That Is From The Seventh Plane."

"You must have a very boring life, then," I observed.

"No, Ashlee, it is a life of light, a life of goodness, a life of eternal health, happiness, and healing. Something that you will NOT experience until you break away from HIM, the one who has placed a binding curse on you so that he can continue to control you like he has done for the last four years. And, you want to know what really gets me, Ashlee?"

Actually, yes, I really do. This conversation was really, REALLY getting good now. Thank you Chrissie for encouraging me to stay on the phone. You are the best troublemaker I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"What really gets me," she began, though I hadn't actually spoken my answer out loud on whether I wanted to know what really got her or not. But, what should I have expected but that? Could I really have expected anything else? It's not like she's ever waited for an opinion or an answer from me before, so why should she wait now? how was today different from any other day?

"Is that you are CHOOSING CHRISTIAN ALLERT over your whole, entire FAMILY!!!!"

BOOOOOOOOOMMMMM CAAAA-BBBBBBBBBBB-OOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!

Goes the bombshell.

Dad, in case you are wondering, Chris has no objection to me using his first and last name on here. But Giovanna does. In fact, she and Jennifer tried to get my blog taken down by their judges when they took me to court for basically bullying them back when they wouldn't leave me alone. They, as you can see, were unsuccessful in getting my blog taken down, but my lawyer has warned me to refrain from using full names, so, with much painstaking care and caution, I avoid using the full names of my family. All except mine, of course. My name is Ashlee Rose Levcun.

There, I said it! It's forever lodged into the cells of the never-ending circuit of Internet information and Google searches and I am proud of it! I think that my lawyer might have preferred me to not use real names at all, but, I personally, am willing to take the risk. I mean, seriously, what can a judge do to me? Throw me in jail for telling all the accounts of my childhood abuse, as well as comical conversations that I still continue to have with my nutty grandmother, the REAL crazy one in the picture, though she and Mom have tried for so long and so hard on convincing the rest of the world that I am the true crazy one. Well, there's nothing illegal in breaking the silence of past abuse, so I highly doubt I'll be facing any jail or prison time anytime soon. Anyway, I bet they're still trying to prove to anyone who will give them the time of day that I need to be committed, locked up for good, into an institution for the mentally ill. I wonder if they'll ever give up?

What else could a judge do to me? Give me a hugo, huge, huge, fine that I can never pay because I am well below the poverty line? Yes, hugo is a neat word, isn't it? I bet my mom would hate it if she ever saw it, let alone saw that her not-so-perfect daughter wrote it down on a very dark, evil blog called the Blind Satanist. The very blog that belongs to me, her imperfect daughter, and proud of it! Sure, a judge can make a judgment for me to pay a fine all they want, but they can't take water from a dry well, now, can they?

"Hmmmmm, what a difficult choice," I said, the sarcasm leaping into my throat before I could stop it.

"Let's see… You and Mom forced me to stay home until I was well over eighteen because you two just couldn't face the fact that, once I left home for good, so would the endless supply of social security money that should have been mine, that was intended for ME and only me that you two TOOK without asking my permission or even letting me know what you spent all the money on. Then, once I left home, you tried to take out a life insurance policy on me because you had, once again, spent all your money and needed to borrow money on something else to keep your head above water. Your ex boyfriend tried to form an illegal relationship with me when you broke his heart because he was damaged and well beyond repair from the insurmountable agony you inflicted upon him, so I had to deal with that trauma. Mom physically and emotionally abused me for my entire life as a child and teen, even taking to abandoning me in Naples, Florida, when I got too difficult to care for, which was when I reached the age where I really started understanding and questioning her abusive and undesirable, not to mention, ADULTEROUS behavior, leaving me with a very hurt and foul-tempered stepfather, four thousand miles from home, away from my father and the rest of my family, so she could continue on schmoozing around with her two boyfriends at the time, possibly more of them once I moved, or, rather, kidnapped by Tim, and forced to reside in Florida."

I was breathing very fast now and my rocking was beyond stoppable. If Jennifer had been at my house and had threatened to hit me if I didn't stop rocking, which was something she often did when I lived at her house to try and rid me of that "undesirable habit", I would have taken the slap. Nothing could stop my rocking or the next volley of words that would soon come tumbling forth from my lips.

"Chris, on the other hand, has been nothing but good and kind to me. I give him some money from my social security check because I want to, not because I have no other choice or because I don't even know what I'm getting for benefits because you and Mom had it so well hidden from me in countless bank accounts that I can never seem to access, even now. He only speaks to me with love and kindness, which is something that you and Jennifer have NEVER been able to do unless you wanted something from me. Usually, with Jennifer, it was good grades. With you, it was to conform to the latest cult that you had joined so that… I don't know, you wouldn't feel so alone and crazy because you had a companion. Chris accepts who I am, unlike Mom and you, and he is the one who helped me get free from you two. So, let's see, Chris Allert, who has never harmed a hair on my body or even raised his voice to me, even when I really deserved a good shouting at, or, you and Mom, two very nasty people who cause both havoc and destruction in the lives of those who have the misfortune of meeting you two, or, in my case, having landed, somehow in this family for some fucked-up reason. What a difficult decision."

"Chris IS abusing you. You are under too many spells to realize the DANGER that you are in right now. The spells are fogging your mind. When you are around him, you can't see what he is doing. For all you know, he is casting spells on you with hand signals and other visual cues that you would, of course, miss, because of your lack of eyesight. And, just so you know, YOU are the one who chose to be a part of this family. You were not placed here by evolution or some unknown creator. You chose to live with us, so, the only one to blame for that is yourself, if you are so damn miserable being amongst us. And, also for the record, your mother and I never abused you. Your mother sent you to Florida because she needed a break from you. And, if I'm not mistaken, she offered to bring you back home and it was YOU who refused to come back."

"Yeah, because I'd rather be home alone for seven plus hours a day while Tim worked, than be harassed constantly by a lunatic who never stopped yelling, no matter how hard you worked to please her. There was always something wrong that I did, always, always, ALWAYS! At least Tim was easy to pacify so long as he wasn't too drunk. And, I don't believe that I chose to live with you lot. You only say that to pass the blame onto me when, really, it belongs to no-one other than you and Jennifer. I know that your Theta cult encourages its followers to lie to themselves to make their lives seem all grand and chipper, and to cast blame that belongs to you onto innocent passersby, but, really, Giovanna, the blame for all of this belongs to you and Jennifer. I didn't ask to be born and I certainly did not ask to be placed with you fuckers. You know… just for the record, as you so wisely said."

"I just don't understand why you would choose a total stranger over your family, your family who loves you, who cared for you all your life, who still loves you and wants, more than anything, for you to come back home to us and take Amira with you, too."

"Oh yeah, I'm SURE YOU DO," I snarled back, my protective, lioness maternal instincts kicking in.

Now, I know that I am nowhere near the best mother in the world and that I, by far, can never be a contestant for the mother of the year award, but I do know one thing for sure. I will NEVER subject my daughter to those atrocious people. She would be better off getting adopted out to strangers through a closed adoption process so that they could never find her, than to live with them.

"Well, fine, Ashlee, that's just fine!" sniffed Giovanna.

"Go ahead, choose a total STRANGER over your family. These days, I can't have expected anything else from you. You are so different than the way you used to be. I want my Ashlee back. We all do."

"I'm not anybody's Ashlee," I roared, anger returning with the speed and ferocity of a lightning bolt.

"I belong to NOBODY and I answer to NO-ONE!!"

I answer to no-one like you, Dad. Or, at least, that's what I strive to do. I've got work to do, but I'm working diligently on it. Or, as diligently as I can with a tree of laziness constantly growling at me to be lazy.

"I can't believe that it has been TWO YEARS and I STILL haven't met Amira," pined Giovanna on the other end of the receiver. "Your mom is so broken-hearted about it. She cries nearly every day. I really wish that she would follow Theta like I am doing. If she did, she would learn to let it go, just like I have."

"Let what go?"

"Just… let it all go. Not getting to ever meet Amira or see her, except for in pictures, letting you go and what used to be you go… just EVERYTHING! I am MOVING ON!"

It sure doesn't seem like you have moved on, I thought to myself, and all five of my imaginary friends nodded in agreement, making me click my tongue five times as they each, individually, moved their head, subtley, up and down.

You want to know something really weird, Dad? Or, well, maybe it isn't so weird after all. You might not be surprised, and neither should I be. I have changed a great deal since I lived in pathetic, sheltered, nothing and nowhere Poop Ludlow, but, sometimes, revelations and thoughts occur to me that still surprise me, even now.

What really surprised me during this part of the conversation was that a part of me, I can't tell you how big or small, doesn't want Giovanna to move on. Or Jennifer, for that matter. I want them to feel stuck and sad, commiserating together on a daily basis, or at least a weekly basis, on all that they are missing. I do not think that I have completely accepted this for a fact, though I am working on this as well, but my mother and grandmother will NEVER accept or admit, even to themselves let alone to me or anyone else, that they were in the wrong and still are. They will never admit and accept that THEY are the reasons that they aren't seeing Amira or me now. I will always be the one to blame for it to them. I think that a large and very ugly reason why I continue to talk to my mother and was talking to my grandmother, is because, a part of me inside, has a stupid, useless ray of hope that they will change, that they will come to accept and admit that, maybe, just maybe, it isn't all in my head, about the abuse I endured while in their care as Jennifer so fervently claims that it is. Maybe, just maybe, I am not the crazy one. And, if I am somewhat crazy, which I very might well be and often wonder about sometimes, that THEY are the reason for my craziness, or, in a psychiatrist's terms, psychosis. I would really like it if there could be some accountability for them, that they would stand up to the plate, FINALLY, and take some responsibility for the irrepairable damage that they inflicted.

Chris seems to think that I can repair it and change my ways so as not to be like them, but I am not so hopeful about that. I'd like to be and I try to be, but, realistically, I just can't see any way around it. The damage is done, so the saying goes, and I'm not so convinced that I can fix it, no matter how hard or not hard, that I try.

Until this happens, though, Jennifer and Giovanna admitting and taking responsibility for their wrongdoings, I do find myself finding much satisfaction that they have not moved on, despite my grandmother's constant testimonies that she has moved on. If they aren't going to change their ways, admit and accept what bad people that they are, I, at least, deserve the satisfaction of knowing just how miserable and regretful they are about not getting to meet their granddaughter and great-granddaughter, as well as not being a part of my life very much. I mean, I haven't seen them since December! To me, that doesn't seem like a very close family unit, what do you think?

So, when my grandmother talked about moving on, it made me both giggle at her denial, but, at the same time, fear it, because they don't deserve to get off so easy and moving on would surely let them off easy, wouldn't it? Still, I think I'm right, though, that my grandma really hasn't moved on, that she never will move on, and that she is just giving herself a bunch of hocus pocus pep talks whenever she faces weak moments, which seem to become more and more frequent as her unstable life moves forward, as everything that she has ever done, mostly bad, I can imagine, is finally starting to catch up to her, fast, angry, and unbeatable. She can run, but she certainly can't hide. In the end, it will all catch up to her. And THAT gives me immense satisfaction.

This story is going to have at least another part to it, Dad. There is just so much material and so little time. I find myself needing a break, feeling stiff, tired fingers complaining more loudly as time goes on. And, if I continue to force them, I will have a very unhappy, ten thousand pound tree to deal with, so, I'd better end it here while the going's good then.

I love you, Dad. Please be well, wherever you are, and know that I will never stop loving and thinking of you and remembering you, no matter what life throws at me.

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

HAIL SMM SMM!!!!

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: giovanna *** <g***@***.com>
Date: Tue, 27 Sep 2016 00:20:35 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: Sharing a mindful thought
To: "ashlee***@***.com" <ashlee***@***.com>

Hello Ashlee,

This definition of beauty and love and loss and shift in my life
without having control of loss, reminds me of YOU, and our
relationship experience.

I want to share this: it is what I am working through; you are the
beauty in my life. Here it is.

The avoidance of loss, or change of any kind, can be a habituated, if
ineffective, way to unconsciously resist the inevitability of death.
Death of a relationship, or the particular form of a relationship. The
ending of a chapter of life that must complete in totality to give way
to the next phase. Death of who you have always known yourself to be,
in order to become who you really are.

We are not attempting to deny or overcome the often unimaginable
grief, pain and disorientation of loss. The invitation here is to
connect with what was given, and the eternal flower of those things,
those touches of indescribable Beauty, communion, and Love that happen
in a moment, but will echo throughout our lives forever.

YOU, Ashlee, are the beauty I am thinking of here, when reading this passage.

BEAUTY IS AS ANNIHILATING AS DEATH
In my own inquiry, what I've found to be true is that the same
annihilation of self I feel when faced with death, I feel in a
different tone when faced with overwhelming Beauty. By Beauty I mean
the unparalleled experience of having true communion with Love and
more than love - when the veils part and the Glory of Creation reveals
itself in luminous clarity. The moment of birth, the moment of
soul-connected orgasm, falling in love with a soul-kindred, communing
with the magnificence of nature, contacting the mysticism of All That
Is, or absorption in the exquisite privacy of your indwelling
Mystery........all of these types of mystical experiences have an
impact on our psyche that can be as strong as the impact of trauma.
There is an obvious tonal difference here. But experiences of trauma
and indescribable Beauty both annihilate the underpinnings of your
life, and usher in a threshold of transformation that insist you
recognize and surrender to who you really are.

Take the experience of falling in love with a soul-kindred, and then
having to release that relationship, either through death or
separation. If you scan through the most pristine moments of time and
connection that you had together, or the steady and unwavering love
that held your relationship through all the changes of feeling and
circumstance, you'll find that there is a depth and a power to the
reality of what is between you that transcends all death and change.
What was brought to you through that relationship, or through a
particular life circumstance, was a gift of the Divine for YOU.
Forever given, and forever radiating nourishment and illumination for
your earth walk.

Similar to the way in which your system can be overwhelmed and unable
to fully process and release a trauma, Beauty leaves a residual impact
in your being that is often so big that you simply can't absorb it
all. When faced with inevitable loss, and asked to surrender to that
loss, one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves is to take the
time to fully absorb what was given.

When you give yourself the gift of full permission to absorb the
Totality, the grand Beauty that was given and can never be lost
because it resides in the Eternal, you also give yourself the gift of
liberation into loss. You help yourself to anchor in that which never
changes. You also drink up ALL the nectar that was already given, but
not yet fully receive by you, and in that, you may find that your
yearning, your grief itself changes form. Often we are partly grieving
because we feel there was more yet to come. Opening to absorb all that
was actually given may soften your yearning and help you to graciously
turn towards the new unknown chapter of your life with a sense of
nourishment and hope, rather than fear and disappointment.

When you forge a relationship to the Eternal Flower within the things
that change, die, or shift in your life, often beyond your control,
you're also forging a relationship to a deep source of sustenance that
will give you the courage to MAKE the changes that you need to make in
your life. You can't be manipulated by fear of loss or change if you
teach yourself how to navigate change within the context of the
Eternal, and how to truly nourish yourself in the face of loss.

"In many ways, the feeling of grief is not just an expression of
mourning what was lost, but also be a signal that there is more to be
received." by Jumana Sophia

In love,
Grandmother

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: giovanna *** <g***@***.com>
Date: Sun, 18 Sep 2016 10:27:57 -0700
Subject: We will always love each other.
To: Ashlee Levcun <ashlee***@***.com>

Hi Ashlee!
I would like to say that you know that I love you with all my heart,
and I know that you love me, no matter what!
Sincerely and with best wishes always,
Grandmother ❤️

Sent from my iPhone