I am keeping this entry as part of an ongoing record: lived experience, spiritual inquiry, and the patient work of finding language for what moves between the visible and the unseen.
Today, there’s an unusual calm in the air, a quiet sense of reassurance that things are aligning as they should. I have some weed—legal here in Canada, of course—and its presence brings a small comfort, a reminder that I can take control of how I manage my feelings. But the more significant focus is on the coming Monday. A support worker will be arriving, accompanied by a police officer. It’s a meeting that feels weighty, not just because of what I need to explain, but because articulating the struggles I’ve been facing isn’t always easy in person. Words have a tendency to get stuck, tangled with emotions that are hard to untangle in the moment.
This time, I need a game plan. I want to be prepared, not just with the facts, but with a clear sense of direction. The experiences I need to share are deeply personal, and sometimes, they feel bigger than me. But I know I can’t allow them to overshadow the truth that I’m trying to express.
Sunday will be my day to reset, to focus my thoughts before diving back into work. It’s not just about routine; it’s about grounding myself, making sure I don’t lose sight of what truly matters. Today, I felt that weight lift a little—I felt like my life, my experiences, my choices all mattered. It’s a powerful feeling, like the pieces are finally falling into place. And I know I’m moving in the right direction, pressing forward as guided by something deeper within me. It’s almost like the path is lighting up, step by step, and I’m learning to trust it more each day.
In reflecting on my story, I return to 2015—a pivotal year when I experienced something beyond the ordinary. What began as an emotional breakthrough quickly evolved into something more, a psychospiritual awakening that seemed like the start of a regular psychic process. I was learning about spirituality, about guides, and the deeper layers of existence. Of course, my belief system influenced the way this all unfolded—coloring my perception of the world around me, both metaphorically and, in a sense, spiritually. The way I saw and felt things, even the spiritual colors of the universe, seemed to shift as my awareness expanded.
At first, it felt like I was being initiated into something grand, something meaningful. I was on the cusp of learning lessons about trust, faith, love, and belief—core concepts that seemed to be the foundation of this new reality I was stepping into. But then, just as quickly as the breakthrough seemed within reach, something shifted. A spiritual group entered the picture, communicating ideas that shook my understanding of everything. They introduced me to powerful lessons, lessons that changed my world and challenged my beliefs about the life path I was on. What I had considered to be a journey of self-discovery and spiritual growth suddenly became something darker, more chaotic.
A group that played on my beliefs—on the idea of gods emerging in both spiritual and physical realms—and it triggered a series of events I could never have predicted. What followed was a relentless series of spiritual attacks. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t harm or retaliate, but the communication persisted, manifesting in bizarre and unsettling ways. Day after day, there were events—whacky, inexplicable, but undeniably real. Harm and attack became constant companions, not just from within but from metaphysical forces that seemed to come from all directions.
There were moments of clarity—psychic flashes that gave form to these negative forces. I would sometimes see, or at least feel, who or what was behind them, but most of the time, it was an overwhelming sensation of presence. I knew I was under attack, even if I couldn’t always articulate it. The feeling was undeniable, a gnawing sense of being targeted.
By 2016, I had made a decision. My experiences were real. They weren’t figments of my imagination or mere illusions; they were part of a broader reality, one that I was only beginning to understand. One of the key lessons from that time was the realization that imagination itself holds life. It is not simply a function of the mind, but a doorway to other forms of existence, other realities. This realization was profound, but it came with its own set of challenges. The terror of those attacks remained, the sense of harm still lingered, and I couldn’t help but feel that I was caught in the crossfire of forces far beyond my control.
Despite everything, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I wasn’t seeking harm or negativity; in fact, I felt quite innocent in the midst of it all. Yet, the attacks persisted. And even as I look back now, I understand that those experiences were part of something much larger—an intersection of belief, metaphysical reality, and spiritual lessons that continue to shape who I am today.
By 2016, there was a noticeable shift in my actions and thought processes. Unlike the whirlwind of 2015, where things felt raw and unpredictable, this new phase was marked by a certain jankiness. My actions weren’t as smooth as I wanted them to be, but something had changed. The urgency of understanding the spiritual attacks that had occurred pushed me into deeper reflection. I began asking questions—questions that opened up an entirely new line of thinking about the spirit realm. Why were these attacks happening? What was their source? And perhaps more importantly, what did they signify?
The more I probed, the more I realized that the spiritual realm might be in greater trouble than I had initially understood. My belief began to guide me toward a startling possibility: that some aspects of the spirit world were karmically in jeopardy, entangled in destructive cycles they couldn’t break free from. There were entities, or forces, whose very essence seemed to be weakening, not just figuratively but in a literal, metaphysical sense. The attacks that they directed toward me and others were not acts of pure malice, but rather symptoms of their own deterioration.
This realization led to the creation of something new in 2017: a program that analyzed an issue I called the Mass Retrogression Issue or the Karmic Retrogression Issue. I began analyzing the spiritual dynamics at play, focusing on how harm and attack were not only damaging those who were targeted but also weakening the attackers themselves. I explored the idea that continued metaphysical destruction was accelerating a kind of karmic decline—one that could have far-reaching consequences if left unchecked. My belief was that some beings or entities were in dire need of rehabilitation, and I started to envision solutions to help prevent further destruction. The need for healing in the spirit world became a central theme in my work.
Throughout this period, from 2015 to 2017, there were threads of truth woven into my experiences. I felt like I was uncovering deeper layers of understanding, each piece fitting together like a puzzle, revealing a broader, more complex picture of spiritual health and karmic balance. By 2018, my focus had sharpened, and I began creating defense documents—Disclaimers, Testifications, Advocations—as well as diary entries to record my thoughts and experiences. These documents became a form of protection, a way to clarify my intent and shield myself from further spiritual harm.
It was also around this time that I felt compelled to share my experiences more publicly. I started recording videos on YouTube, documenting what I had gone through and the insights I had gained. It felt important to put my voice out there, to speak not just for myself but for the greater spiritual issues I believed were at play.
By 2019, my ideas had evolved further. I refined the concepts I had been working on, expanding my understanding of the spiritual and karmic dynamics. I became more deliberate in my approach, developing these ideas into something more structured and cohesive. The notion of karmic retrogression became a focal point in my thinking, and I continued to explore ways to address these issues—ways that would not only protect myself but also potentially heal the deeper wounds that I had perceived in the metaphysical world.
To explore your life path in September, let’s draw three cards, focusing on the themes of guidance, challenge, and outcome.
- Guidance: The Fool The Fool suggests that this September, you are at the brink of a new journey, either physically, emotionally, or spiritually. This card encourages you to embrace new beginnings with an open heart, trusting the universe to guide you. You are being asked to release any fears of the unknown and take that first step toward a fresh start. The Fool is the ultimate card of spontaneity and trusting the process, reminding you to keep an adventurous mindset as new opportunities unfold.
- Challenge: The Hanged Man The Hanged Man reflects a need for surrender and a change of perspective. This September, your challenge will be to let go of control and allow events to unfold in their own time. The Hanged Man suggests that there might be a period of waiting or indecision, and during this time, it’s important to shift how you view your current situation. The wisdom here lies in finding peace with delays or obstacles, understanding that they are part of a deeper process of growth.
- Outcome: The Star The Star brings hope, healing, and a sense of renewal. By the end of September, you will likely experience a deeper sense of clarity and purpose. The Star represents a time of spiritual connection and inner guidance, suggesting that the challenges and new beginnings you face will lead to a greater sense of peace and alignment with your true path. This card signals a period of optimism and faith in the future, where your inner light shines more brightly, guiding you toward your highest potential.
