Author: GreatCosmicMothersUnited

I have joined with many parents affected with the surreal , yet accepted issue of child abuse via Pathogenic Parenting / Domestic abuse. As a survivor of Domestic Abuse, denial abounded that 3 sons were not affected. In my desire to be family to those who have found me lacking . As a survivor of psychiatric abuse, therapist who abused also and toxic prescribed medications took me to hell on earth with few moments of heaven. I will share my life, my experiences and my studies and research.. I will talk to small circles and I will council ; as targeted parents , grandparents , aunts , uncles etc. , are denied contact with a child for reasons that serve the abuser ...further abusing the child. I grasp the trauma and I have looked at the lost connection to a higher power.. I grasp when one is accustomed to privilege, equality can feel like discrimination.. Shame and affluence silences a lot of facts , truths that have been labeled "negative". It is about liberation of the soul from projections of a alienator , and abuser ..

It dies slowly

“It dies slowly”

“It dies slowly

Who become slaves to habit.

Repeating the same paths everyday,

Who does not change gears,

Who does not risk and changes the color of clothes,

Who does not speak to those who they do not know.

He who avoids passion dies slowly,

Who prefers black on white

And the dots on the “i”

Rather than a set of emotions,

Exactly those that make your eyes shine,

That make a yawn smile,

The ones that make your heart beat

In front of mistakes and feelings.

It dies slowly

Who doesn’t turn the table upside down,

Who is unhappy at work,

Who doesn’t risk certainty for uncertainty

To pursue a dream,

Who doesn’t dare at least once in their lives

To escape sensible advice.

Those who do not travel slowly die,

Who does not read,

Who doesn’t listen to music,

Who finds no grace in themselves.

He Who destroys self-love dies slowly,

Who doesn’t let themselves be helped,

Who spends their days complaining

Of one’s own misfortune or the incessant rain.

It dies slowly

Who abandons a project before they started,

Who doesn’t ask questions on topics they don’t know about,

Let’s avoid death in small doses,

Always remembering to be alive

It takes a much greater effort

Then just breathing.

Nothing but the burning patience,

It will lead to achievement

Of a blissful State of Mind.”

📖Martha Medeiros🥀

“How do they do it, those who are not inclined?

What are unbothered people made of.”

📖Elias Canetti🥀

This haze will lift

The walls of your own life feel foreign, and no one tells you how to get through the days when even the familiar things have lost their place.

The way you used to be…it’s all strangely altered.

Words feel like strangers, heavy and hard to force out.

You can’t seem to grasp the rhythm you once had.

You look for pieces of the old life, and they’re just… gone, just beyond reach, leaving you stranded in this in-between.

I promise, it won’t always be like this.

Right now, every day feels like stumbling through a fog.

But over time—slowly, almost invisibly—the haze begins to lift.

It’s not that you go back to who you were, but you start to find small pockets of peace, and brief glimpses of a life that’s less broken.

This grief will soften, and you’ll learn to carry it with you in a way that no longer feels like a wound but a part of who you are.

~ ‘Nothing Fits’ by Adrian Grief Support

~ Art by Tetsuhiro Wakabayashi