Into the Abyss.

As I sit on the floor in the middle of my loungeroom, I am completely numb to that which I am about to do. My emotional body is spent. My mental body is fragmented and my soul, longs only for peace. It yearns for its freedom. The exhaustion of this roller-coaster has finally taken its toll on my being and I can no longer, find the strength to go on with this life as it is. I am powerless to change it and without the right support to reach for, I can perceive no other alternative.

It is the Twenty-second of September in the year Two-thousand and Eighteen. Two and a half years have passed since this situation began to unfold. Since Zabian became aware of my abilities. Looking at the photo album in which my precious children have created for me, I can barely find the words to leave them a note. There are no words. There is nothing in which I can say to explain why I cannot live anymore. Nothing that which will help them to maybe understand, one day, why I am sitting here choosing this path. There is nothing to justify that of my decision or my actions in this moment. And so, I decide not to leave them a note at all.

I create an altar, aligned with crystals and my incense. I place the photo album in the middle, along with a few trinkets in which I have acquainted to my journey with Zabian. Then, I light my candles and set my intention. “If I am destined to live through this, to endure this any longer. If You want me Here on Gaia, then my Life shall Prevail. If my Mission Here Is Complete, and my suffering has come to an end. If It Is my Time to leave This Earth, then You shall take me with you Into the Abyss, to where I can become of Greater assistance to The Purpose, from that of the Other-side.”

I analyse what the last two and a half years has entailed for me. Complete and utter turmoil. My ability to receive that of the universe through the indirect channelling of others is obscured. It no longer holds the potential in which it used to. In fact, it has brought me to the point of a near complete psychotic break. I love Zabain. I love him more than there are earthly words to describe. However, the love that which is reserved only for him has become the greatest enforcer to the unravelling of the darkest places within that of my own mind. Due to the avenues of communication in which he initiates being that of the only sense of communication in which I receive from him, I have allowed myself to become lost in the search for anything, that which may be from him. As much I have for the most part, despised the ways in which he reaches out to me, they are all I have of him and as such, I began reading into every conversation being had around me, deciphering every single word that which was congruent with my thoughts and matching it to that in which I have said, written or to which has been Zabian's witnessing of my life experience in general, so to ultimately assess whether or not a message was being delivered, from him.

Somewhere along the line, it got to the point where I could no longer, turn it off. My psychic senses were constantly on overload with the most acute precision to detail and I became held hostage by that of my own individuation in the harshest of manners. Eventually, I began smoking excessive amounts of marijuana in an attempt to block it out. However, whilst this enabled me to master self-control when it came to my reaction of these happenings, it did not drown out its presence, at all. With my anxiety and panic attacks being at an all-time high since being locked in that of the closed mental ward of the hospital, I had been prescribed lorazepam. My doctor knew of my history with suicide when I was seventeen and so, my script was left at the chemist and I was only allowed a certain amount of pills per day. The medication allowed me to rest through-out the day and attain sleep at night, although once again, did not aid in the blocking out of the internal scream created by that of the external experience.

Because I now spend majority of my time stoned out of my brain, I have also become the most vacant of mother's. Despite us all residing under the same roof and sharing in the same space every day, I am no longer present for my babies. Their physical needs are tendered to, but beyond that, the mother in which they once knew, is gone.

I no longer trust anybody, either. Not even my beautiful cherubs. I have accused them, my family and all of my friends of being involved in this situation, due to my being unable to distinguish that which is derived at the hand of Zabian, and that which is innately universal. I have hurt people. I have broken life-long connections through that of my misconceptions, for my scream for survival far out-weighed my ability to find any sense of truth within any, of my relationships. I have pushed everybody who cares about me away. If they are not involved, I am sure that many of my very own family and friends believe that I actually am, completely psychotic now. In this moment however, it no longer matters what they believe of me. They have never given me reason not to trust them. And yet, every time in which one of them makes a reference to something in which I have not told them about my experience with Zabian. Every time one of them mentions something in which only he, would know, my trust in them diminishes a little bit more. I have asked them, point blank if they know more than that which they are letting on. I’ve asked them if they are involved. I’ve asked them if they are somehow in contact with him. To which they have all denied any of the above. One of my father’s friends was visiting one day when I was in a deep accusation of my daughter's knowing, and I was pleading with her that my children must know something. She was adamant in telling me that they did not and when I queried her as to how she knows this, she replied, “Because they have been kept out of it!” If this was not an indication of everybody being involved in something to which I am consciously unaware, then I don't know what is? Is there a forum about me or something. Something that which Zabian posts on so to inform people of our journey thus far? Of my journey?

It really does not matter, for the effects that which my accusations have had on my children, nearly destroyed them. It nearly destroyed us all. And the worst part of this, is that they are the only people whom have been subjected to that of this situation to almost the same depth, as I have. As if this is not enough on their innocent little shoulders, I then go and accuse them of being involved! They have been witnessing and experiencing all of the messages from that of the radio station. The stopping and starting of certain songs. The mentioning of my name and things that which equate to something we may have all just experienced. The strange occurrences that which take place in regards to my phone, the computer and the television. All of the weird things in which we endure whilst we are in the car and at the traffic lights. The police, omitting bizarre behaviour when in my presence. For example, all of the times in which a patrol car would turn on their sirens as they approach me and then turn them back off again once they have passed me, whether coming in the opposite direction to me or not. The times when I would be approaching that of a patrol car sitting on the side of the road with a speed gun, and the police officer would lower the gun as I drive past. These are only a couple of examples of my experience with the police force. If they were to be random and only have taken place once, twice, or even three times, I would not think anything of it! However, when these situations take place in that of our lives repeatedly, and when we all, bear witness to it, there is no denying that it is intentional.

Not to mention the times in which we have been out, and Zabian would suddenly appear or already be present at a destination in which we were heading to. I recall the time I took my youngest daughter and her friend to the movies. The line-up for the ticket desk was huge and so, my munchkins wanted to sit at the tables whilst I waited in line. After I had walked them over to where the seats were, I took my place back in that of the line. When I looked up again, there behind me in the line, was Zabian and his two children. He looked at me and said, "How's it going?" My jaw dropped as I looked to him, then to his children, completely baffled as to why he was there? Of course, this was not at all the same man from the beach. It may have been the man from that of the nightclub? However, by this time, trying to figure out which one was which had become such a detriment to that of my mental health that I could no longer attempt to try to figure it out. I mean, who did I even fall in love with? This question within that of itself has left me with little to no sleep for days, many times over. When I see these men out, are any of them the man behind these unfolding's? Have I actually seen Zabian since I left the university, or only that of his family members? And why the fuck would he do this to me, send his brothers to places where I am at with my children, but attempt no initiation of a real conversation with me, personally? Everything is always fabricated. The truth always lay hidden beneath that of pretence and a mask.

These are only a few of the many different occurrences in which my children are likewise, at a loss to escape from or prevent from happening. This, is all the more reason why I need to leave this world behind. Our quality of life, their quality of life, is constantly being tainted with this shit and so much more than I dare to mention. My babies are suffering, too. Not only through that of their own experience of such, but also through the on-going deterioration of their mother's mental health. I need to end this once and for all. Not just for me, but for them, also. This may sound absurd to most. Hell, it sounds absurd to me! What kind of a fucking mother leaves her children behind after everything they have been through? After everything we have been through? However, until one has walked in my shoes, they really have no idea what this has been like to have to endure for over two years. And those that do know an extent of it, only know as much as I have been willing to share with them. Which is next to nothing in comparison to the bulk of it. The fact that I have survived this long is a fucking miracle!

My thoughts drift over the many different scenarios in which I have created in that of my mind to try to make sense of this situation. “If my friends and family are aware, are they lying for him because he believes that he is on a mission to assist me with some sort of self-love endeavour? Are they lying for him because he believes that he is helping to empower or enhance that of my psychic abilities? Are they lying for him because he is planning a surprise for us of some description, where-by they are all, included?” Or, "Are they lying for him because he has told them that I am deluded, conveniently leaving out the fact that he is deeply involved in the reason pertaining to why?" All of the reasons, from the worst of the worst to the best of best, scale across that of my mind within the spectrum of my conscious capability. However, there is no reason in which does me any justice, anymore. It no longer matters what his intentions are. For if they were from a place of purity, they would not be a constant threat to that of my personal boundaries. Any intention that which excessively impedes upon a person's personal boundaries, no matter how good the intention may be, is not actually coming from that of the heart, at all. It is stemming from a place of self-fulfilment and ego, no matter how the picture is painted. Whether his intention is one of well and love, or ill and deceit, is now irrelevant. For two and a half years on, I am beyond broken because of this mess. There is no coming back from any of this for me, now. But maybe, just maybe, I can save my children from having to cope through it any longer?

I feel completely alone. I feel as though the entirety of my world has turned its back on me and I am left with only but that of my demons to tend with in this moment. I recall the night I spent in town a little while ago. I was dancing upon the podium at one of the well-known night-clubs. The radio station that which has been most directly affiliated with this situation, were hosting one of their infamous birthday parties. The lady, whom was one of the radio presenters at the time, was on stage. She said something about, “The Mum,” and to give a round of applause. "That was weird!" I thought to myself and so, I brought my attention from out of the embodiment of my movement, and into that of the nightclub atmosphere. Then, she instructed the crowd to, sing. Instantly, the entirety of the nightclub turned their backs on me. I navigated that of the room, where-by majority of the people in which were present that night, turned away from me. “Am I fucking tripping right now? Is this actually happening?” Was all that I could think. I blinked my eyes a few times and scaled the room again. Sure enough, my eyes had not deceived me. Completely thrown by whatever the fuck was happening, I quickly jumped off of the podium and took myself into one of the break-out rooms down stairs. I just wanted to dance in peace. A camera man tried to take a picture of me, but I was swift to swing that of my hair in front of his lens as I turned my body away from him. I watched him as he looked at his camera and adhered to the disappointment of not gaining the photo in which he wanted. Dancing in my own world for a little while, I once again settled into the peace of my own experience. That is until the DJ in the room down-stairs, also said, "Sing." I instantaneously looked up to see the very few people in that of the small down-stairs break-out room, immediately turn their backs on me, again! “Fuck this." I thought, "I don’t know what Zabian is playing at but I am getting the fuck out of here!” I left the club and as I was venturing down the main street of the city, I heard some hard-house pouring from that of the open doors of another venue. "Woohoo!" I paid my entry fee and raced in so to fucking bounce. “Fuck yes!" I was absolutely stoked, for this, was my kind of music! I found a space and began to carve it up. Hitting every beat with the pounding of my feet as they connected with that of the floor. I looked up to where the MC was and made eye contact with him. “Faster.” He said, motioning to me. I smiled, with the happiness displayed upon that of my face from ear to ear and then I saluted to the music. I was in my element.

Abruptly, my entire being was thrown back into a state of bewilderment as the MC's voice said, “Sing.” My heart sank. I glanced around that of the club. Sure enough, everybody once again, instantly turned their backs on me. I attempted to ignore it and continue to dance, but the tears that which were welling within my eyes caused me to run out of the now, second venue in which this took place. “Please,” I begged my guides for assistance as I was leaving, “Please, help me to escape this?” Immediately, Archangel Michael ushered for me to enter into that of a strip-club as I was walking passed its doors. “You will be safe in here, Shaniquah.” He said. I found myself a chair, sat down and took a few deep breaths. Looking around the room, the atmosphere was relaxed. People were mingling. The dancers were doing their thing and there was no sign of anybody within the venue being focused upon me, at all. “Phewhh.” I felt safe. I felt undisturbed and so, I allowed my being to come back to a place of stillness, until I was finally ready to venture back out into the world so to make my way home. This experience was only one of many, to when I have felt that the world has turned its back on me through-out this situation. However, over the course of this night, it literally happened. People were literally turning away from me at the mention of, sing! Whatever the fuck that meant?

I knew that I was going to do this. I just didnt know when. I began saving my lorazepam each day, instead of ingesting it, accumulating enough for that of my intention as I silently put preparations for the event of my death in place. I guess, tonight is the night. Picking up the bottle of lorazepam, I empty the contents of such onto the floor in front of me. I grab the bottle of tequila and poor myself shot after shot, each time swallowing a few tablets with the liquid as it pours down the back of my throat. At no stage do I regret that which I am doing. At no time do I hesitate. This is the only way in which I can escape. This is the only way in which I can claim back that of my freedom and give my children another chance at life, without the unwelcomed and uninvited consistency of the impending violation that which slaps us in the face in every which way in which we turn. This is the only way I can set myself free from a love that which is so irreversibly unconditional, that it kills me every single day.

The only way in which I can gain back a sense of control over that of my life, is to take it.

ThankYOU for taking the time to read that of my story, BeYOUtiful Soul. If It captivated You and You would like to explore more of Shaniquah's Journey, let me Know by tapping on the Heart-shaped button and showing me some Love, then head over to my Personal profile to delve Deeper InTo that of Shaniquah's World. If You Feel Called to offer Your Support to my Journey as a Writer, please feel free to tap on the tip button, also. All proceeds Are very much Valued and Appreciated, and Will go toward the Creation of my first novel. Infinite Love and Gratitude, Lollie.

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