WHY DID I LET HER KISS ME?

My rant on my recent failed test on mother wounds and people pleasing

For those of you who may be new, I consider my narcissistic OCD mother dead to me.

I’ve buried her in the ground in my soul when she confessed she had no desire to heal the brokenness of our family due to her mental health conditions because she believed we should just “deal with it.”

We have been no contact for years, with the occasional run in on rare family occasions that she deemed worthy enough to show up.

With that said, now I shall rant about what happened this past Friday that’s got my spiritual panties in a bunch. Hopefully I will have answers by the end of my stream of thought.

So boom. It’s Friday mawnin and I’m digging the crust outta my eye to get ready for my cousin’s funeral.

My tummy was on level 5000 discombobulation as if I had experimented with that new questionably cheap Chinese food restaurant down the street the night before — except I hadn’t.

I was on day 39/40 of a food detox so there was no reason for this level of odd bubble gutosity to be happening in the toilet.

I thought: Am I nervous about singing at the Funeral?

Nawwwwww that aint it.

I thought: Is the grief of the tragedy manifesting itself in sickness?

Nope. Wrong chakra placement attack.

I didn’t realize later that my body was sending me a warning sign — foreshadowing like a muhfucka.

So I got ready and headed out to the funeral parlour.

Turns out, my Aunty had given me and my bro the wrong information about when it started.

I wasn’t surprised but I was in panic cuz I had to haul ass to get there to sing the song. I needed to usher this awful energy into a more positive realm to process with my frequencies.

My tummy rumbled on.

I stepped inside and the usher led me to a room where the mother of the deceased was.

The door opened and my Aunty caught me up in a tearful hug with apologies.

Mi seh: Aunty it nuh matta — mi here now so mi on time.

She moved aside to reveal a shell of a woman now filled with a grief so profound: my dear cousin Nicole (mother of the deceased).

I was frozen in shock when I saw the ghost who stood behind her.

My mother.

No one had warned me she would be there; I wasn’t in the least prepared.

My head immediately joined my tummy in its procession of pain.

I gave Nicole a kiss and hug and my mother stepped towards me to greet me with a smile.

A smirk is more accurate.

I didn’t wish to make a scene so I stiffly gave a half hug and said hello.

So many thoughts raced, only to be shushed by my Aunty as she reminded me that I’d be singing right after my other cousin Michelle finished the eulogy.

Why was she here?

Why didn’t my brother warn me?

Will I have to talk to her?

I shoulda covered my hair to protect myself better.

Why can’t I just ever mourn in peace?

I entered thru the doors of the service to take my seat. The room was thick and HEAVY — the pain so palpable.

I focused on the words my cousin Michelle spoke about her niece. I focused on summoning my light to project on everyone for the song I would sing.

The tears wouldn’t stop rolling from the deep — I wanted to join others in releasing a weep.

Why did I wear makeup?

Suddenly the pastor called me up and I shakily stepped up to the mic.

I spoke a few words on grief and how to healthily take the steps towards the healing place where we can truly say “It is well with my soul.”

I poured my soul out in the vocality.

I sang for our Ancestors who had been ripped from us seemingly too early.

I sang for our family and friends who felt the raw rage of injustice in how our loved ones have been taken from us.

I sang as a representative of The Most High who wishes for us to learn the grace in grief and the strength in our weakest moments.

And then, eerily similar to the story I wrote called

the pastor said a few words to wrap up the ceremony and it was over.

As we all herded out in the processional, I was wrapped in loving embraces from my father’s family that we grew up with but have long been estranged since he’s passed (another gift from my mother).

We all congregated in the foyer to figure out the next moves to the gravesite, giving my mother her opportunity to hijack the conversation between my brother and I.

Mother (smirking as she eyeballs me up and down): Sooo I heard your hair was reeeaaallly short but I didn’t realize it was THAT short.

Me (regretting posting recently a couple pictures of myself to Facebook/IG): Why are people telling you about me? Anyway, yeah, I had to cut out all the toxic energy and start again.

She made a face and I made a mental note to block her best friend and spy, Nancy, from Facebook.

Me: So you gonna roast me like grandma did?

I wanted to throw her off by mentioning her deceased mother. No, I’m not ashamed.

Mother (looking perplexed): What? When did she do that?

Me: Oh yeah, you probably wouldn’t remember. It was one of the times me and Trina (my sister) visited her before the Alzheimer's got really bad. I had cut my hair short then too, and every few minutes she’d either say I looked like a boy or would compliment me and say it suited my face.

I saw a flash of something in her face. She chewed on her mouth. And then I saw the narc smirk return.

Mother: So I got here early and poor Nicole was screaming and inconsolable. I seemed to be the ONLY one who could calm her down. Oh yeah, no one else could get her to stop crying and yelling but IIIIIIIIII was able to get her calm.

And there it was. The psychotic look in her eye she got when she found a new victim to energy vampire. She sounded like an eight year old who found the only shiny pink rock at the beach on a school trip.

I excused myself to go back into the holding room where Nicole was with her brother.

He was trying to console her intermittent bursts of anguish as she rocked in the chair.

She kept blaming herself for not being able to help her daughter.

I silently went behind and began pulling the dark energy from her body, wrapping it around my arm and pushing it out and down the hall away from everyone.

Spirit moved me to hold her hand and tell her this: Nicole, when I heard about Syanne (her daughter), I couldn’t help but think of how easily that could have been me a year ago. I suffered heavily from suicidal thoughts because of my mental health issues and barely made it out alive. No one but the person suffering can truly help themselves out of their hell. And sometimes, the prayer you have for them to stay alive isn’t the same as the prayer they pray to be released from their life. We cannot be selfish by wishing to keep them here in pain. You remember Tiff and my Dad who both suffered?

Nicole: Yes! It was so horrible!

Me: Yes, but they are now free from pain. And they want us to be as well. They have joined our Ancestors to help us fight the spiritual war on the other side. I’m here for you if and when you need to talk or just have me give you energy.

I grabbed her hand to take more pain from her— as much as I could take.

Nicole shared about her struggles in keeping composed with me and her brother, and I let them continue talking as I finished my healing energy work.

I rejoined my brother and mother and could hear Nicole begin wailing again.

Mother: Maybe I should go in there to help. I swear, I’m the only one who can keep her calm!

I wanted to slap the giddiness from her mouth.

Me: Well, Nicole told me she’s fine until she looks at her family members cuz then she recalls visuals of all of them together with her daughter. That’s what keeps bubbling up in torment for her and makes her scream and lose herself in the grief. You’re probably a distraction from all that.

Oooooo when I tell you bout the slit in my mother’s eyes and how it could cut thru stone!

Mother: Ohhh, so you’re saying it’s cuz I’m not family?

Me: Do you even know what Syanne looked like? You hold no memories with her.

She chewed on her mouth some more.

My brother chimed in that we should go and offered for my mother to join us.

The grave site scene was sad and tragic.

Mother followed behind me on the gravel and said this: Just so you know, I still pray for you every day, and I still love you very much and you are still my daughter.

I wanted to turn around and spit in her face. I wanted to tell her to stop praying for me cuz it’s been more harm than good.

Instead I said: Uh hunh.

My tummy and my head were warring.

I thought she was going to stay glued to Nicole the whole time at the grave site. She kept following behind her with that narc smirk while reminding Nicole to breathe and loudly comforting her.

I felt bad for Nicole for becoming a helpless victim of the energy vampiring that would continue to suck her dry for months to come but I had little energy to save myself by the end of the service.

She detached herself from Nicole to join us in leaving to go home.

The whole car ride was her on a narc high of self importance with the occasional stray bullet comments about my other Aunty she long warred with.

Mother: Yeah, I probably wasn’t invited to the baby shower tomorrow because your Aunty hates me.

Me: Yeah, it be like that.

Mother: What?

Me: I SAID…..IT BE LIKE THAT!

I was barely holding on spiritually, mentally, emotionally and ESPECIALLY physically with my tummy and throbbing migraine.

My chest was tight from the cold rainy weather and my inability to tell this woman who birthed me to shut the fuck up.

I wanted some rum and weed.

We arrived outside her condo building, and all I wanted was for her to go go GO inside and back out of my life.

I got out to take her place in the front seat, and she looked me dead in my eye.

Mother: Well, it was nice to see you again. I didn’t have your new address to send you a card for your birthday. I didn’t even know you moved. Anyway, I hope I see you again soon. Can I give you a kiss?

Y’all I don’t know why but I shrugged and said ok.

I let this bitch kiss me on my cheek.

Me, the QUEEN of Rudegalosity and for standing ten toes down on boundaries — ESPECIALLY physical ones.

Especially on ones that could have extreme spiritual ramifications.

Like….I really just let this woman Judas kiss me like I aint know she a witch that could be marking me for death!

The pain got worse in my body all the way home.

My brother drove and talked all about his recent battles with this woman and I sat there wondering when I would be released from her unrelenting destructive grip on our lives.

I wished it was her funeral. And I wondered if I would even go cuz I had buried her so many times in my mind.

I wanted her to be as dead in real life to me as she was in my heart.

But she is still very much alive and I still very much haven’t learned how to protect myself from this vampire.

WHY DID I LET HER KISS ME?

There’s still some people pleasing left in me to work on, I see.

Even so, it is well with my soul.

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