The Veterinarian – (11) Three Mothers, the Crowd of Me, Me, Me and the Killing of Souls


The first mother died actively by her own hand and no one else’s. She also discussed her fear and her suffering openly with at least one member of her family. She conversed with her father about her exit strategy and about her desire to release those that were connected to her from her own madness; release them, so that they could move forward; so that they might walk their own uninfected path and find their own happiness. It is hard to contemplate someone sticking a shot gun in their mouth and then pulling the trigger, but nonetheless, when it is a grace to end your own suffering and a purpose of avoiding projection of the blame outside of yourself, and a means to prevent others from being infected by your own madness and misery, it could be considered quite noble; very unfortunate, but still, quite noble. So, may she rest in peace and may her father, surrounded by the insanity of the righteous Me, Me, Me’s, know that the important souls of true truth understand what he did and why. May he not fall victim to the Me, Me, Me Crowd himself and may he know how much I value his existence and his efforts to hold the world upside right. It is a sorrowful tale, but one that also offers some hope as it displays the refusal of a tragically flawed and suffering soul to resort to the worst forms of selfishness and delusion.  It is a tale of a tortured soul, who did the best she could and as she did so, she chose to accept the responsibility for her fear and for her choice of how to end that fear. Her name was Jennifer.


The second mother was sexually abused by her own father. I don’t know the facts regarding the actual level of that abuse, but my educated guess is that it was at a high level. This mother, this victim, also eventually gave birth to a little, adorable, freckle faced daughter and at some point over the years of the mother’s guardianship over her own child, she allowed…..allowed her own daughter to become another victim of her father’s abuse. From what I was told, the freckle faced daughter’s abuse was at a lower level, but that is still sexual abuse, and it still defined her grandfather as a demon. Furthermore, that demon was allowed to do his dirty work, perform his sin on a helpless child, a little girl, who had her whole innocent life in front of her, because that child’s mother chose a delusional reality and also chose to be overtly negligent. She made both of these choices of being, just like the Crowd of Me, Me, Me does continuously, because she prioritized her own “supposed” sanity and the plausible pseudo-denial  of her own terrified fear over the quality of existence of her own daughter’s life. And there were certainly other family members as well who also surrounded this little girl that should have protected her; other family members, who were continuously singing and singing and singing, Me, Me, Me, instead of actually contemplating with real concern or caring with devout purpose, about anyone outside of their own damn skin. Our second mother was most definitely a victim of her father and her family’s denial and neglect; a tragic, defenseless victim, who was once innocent herself, but this victim, this soul, yielded any deserved pity and any justification for her confusion and actions the moment she prioritized her own existence over her daughters. Being set upon by demons does not give you the right or the privilege to pass those demons on to another soul and I personally believe that doing so to your own child is especially heinous; creating a life and then infecting it with madness and suffering is beyond demonic and perhaps, beyond forgiveness. It is a deconstruction and reversal of the gifts of creation and awareness. It is simply beyond the neutrality of choosing non-existence or non-creation. It is choosing anti-creation; the anti-creation of another being. To willingly or knowingly perform such an act, should elicit the immediate termination of your own existence. To stand idly by and indirectly allow anti-creation to be inflicted upon another being within the circle of your supposed protection is also highly, highly contemptible, and such a supposed guardian receives only the utmost disdain in my awareness, and I still question the validity of such a beings existence, for I believe that they tip the scales in favor of darkness for all. I never witnessed this second mother ever display or radiate a true state of peace and I always thought it very evident in her words and her actions that she suffered enormously. To my knowledge, she maintained the charades of being happy, of lacking regret, of lacking anger, of loving herself and of having hope, until she finally tricked another demon into smashing her head into an elevator door. If she would have just admitted her own anger, frustration, fear and disappointment in her own father and family; if she would have just accepted the truth of her previous existence and how bad it had hurt her and frightened her, she could have escaped her demon and instead found her angel. She could have protected and properly nurtured the freckle faced life that she created. She never did so and that refusal and chosen denial contaminated her being and psyche, to the point of distorting every other aspect and perception of her reality throughout her existence. This choice, forced her to smoke pot obsessively just in order to function on a daily basis, produced numerous dysfunctional relationships and marriages, and prevented her from nurturing and teaching her daughter about how to properly exist and how to properly love. To her dying day, she would say “my dad was a great man, a great, great man, who was sick, and who suffered from a terrible illness, but I still loved him very much”. And she would say the whole damn quote with a smile upon her face. I believe that if she would have just faced the truth inside of herself, actually digested it raw, she would have said something more like “How the fuck could you? How the fuck could you, you bastard? How could you do that to me, your own daughter? How could you sexually abuse me, you fucking monster…you goddamn monster! And it wasn’t just you…it was the whole family, the whole damn family, MY FAMILY…my damn family who betrayed me, who fucked me up literally and figuratively, you damn, damn bastards…all of you should rot in hell. How could you give birth to me and do this? How could you? How could you live with yourself? How many other children have you betrayed and taken advantage of? You should die…you should all die…you should have never been borne and I would kill you right now if I could! And God…hear me God…if you are there, you are as sick as my family… are a sick, twisted bastard to have allowed this…this shit you call free will…this free will that you bestow for fathers to fuck their innocent daughters. How fucking righteous you are God…how fucking righteous…thanks for the protection. Appreciate it. Fuck you. Fuck all of you. I don’t need any of you. I will do it myself…the right way. I will learn… somehow, anyhow, to find real love…I will find it, despite you all…I will find it and I will learn to love myself and others, because I am different than you, I am worth it, and then, I will pass it along…I will give it to my daughter…I will give her a different life than you gave me…a different existence; an existence full of real love, not your bastardized, hypocritical version. And now, that I have told you what I think of you and what you did, I will walk away from you and your madness forevermore. You will never touch me again, in any matter or memory. I refuse your gift of madness and suffering. I refuse to pass your gift along. I am better than you and I do not need you anymore. Go rot in your hell.” And I truthfully believe that if she had uttered these words and meant them……really, really meant them, accepting and admitting all of the hidden and disguised pain inside, that she would have freed herself from her demons. She would have freed herself and become an instrument of proper creation.

But in the end, like the overwhelming majority of damaged souls, she chose to pretend that she had no pain and that she had no fear. In the short time that I knew her, I saw the few slivers of hope that she had managed to survive upon most of her life, slip away; her physical beauty continuing to age and wrinkle, her daughter and granddaughter slowly, but steadily distancing themselves on their own path, the dwindling of available men who might help her control her anxiety through a proper fucking, who were worthy enough in character to keep around after the deed was done. In essence, all of these factors lead to progressive isolation which forced her to spend more and more time looking into the mirror without distraction. She would not make the choices necessary to tolerate that, so she came up with a plan. Knowing that the asshole she dated was a drunk and physically abusive, made her plan very easy to implement. She knew all along that she could walk away…once, I even told her so in the kind and gentle words of sincere and understanding support, but she did not want to walk away, she had no such desire. So, a mixture of her conscious and unconscious mind melded to concoct an interesting plan. By continuing the relationship with this abusive monster, and continuing to encourage or at least tolerate his drinking, over a period of some time, to document these facts for her family and friends, she made sure to go down in history as the “victim”. So, from the martyrdom of death, she is able to point the finger away from herself and towards the “monster” that killed her, who bashed in her skull. He then becomes the “supreme monster” and this redefines her character, from the failed parent monster and from the failed wife monster and from the failed protector of her freckle faced child monster, to an archetypal victim, deserving of the utmost pity and sympathy and respect. It was almost like coming to Jesus seconds before your deathbed, after you have committed and enjoyed every sin in the book, over and over and over for your entire lifetime. It was truly a masterful plan and it finishes our second wife’s story so nicely forever and ever and ever.

Too bad, I see the loose end that is easily overlooked and ignored by most. Too bad, I see what our second mother does not have to look upon any more; a little freckle-faced child soul who now resides inside of a less freckle-faced adult mother’s body, suffering from fear and confusion and paranoia and delusion, just like her mommy taught her to. And I hope, I so dearly hope, that our fewer freckle faced adult mother will now escape these teachings and their curse. I hope that she will be able to realize all of her self-worth and that it is normal and okay and healthy to admit your fear and your anger and your disappointment. I hope and believe that through such admission, the truth of everything will become very apparent to her, and in that truth, the real true truth, not corrupted by infectious delusions present in some other aspect of her psyche, she will be able to see the astounding beauty present within her own soul and within the light of existence, that always, always outweighs the darkness. If she sees and accepts that astounding beauty within herself, she will finally be able to truly love herself. And once she learns to love herself, she will then be free to share such appropriate love with all others who are deserving of such.

Then, and only then, will she fathom  the difference between the hell that she once contrived for herself and others, out of a selfish and unhealthy desire for unity based upon delusion and fear, and the heaven of existence which she has always been able to attain.

Then, and only then, will her existence right itself, in all of its nurturing glory, around her and those within her orbit.

Then, and only then, may she pass these truths along to her daughter, to her family, and to others, as the graces of proper existence.

Then, and only then, will she become a creature of the light that will never, under any circumstance, return to the darkness.

To be continued…


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