In 2010, I developed the ability to see myself in third person in meditation. I’m not sure if it’s a skill others have, or would even want to have. Mine came about because of the degree of violation and trauma I had to deal with that only I knew about or could explain… and also because I was being held accountable for her behavior in those years, things I didn’t even know were happening.

Once Alex was gone completely, pulled out of me (by myself) that summer, I met her for the first time. I was separated from my ex, and she gently tried to get me to be brave enough to leave him.

I wasn’t strong enough. I wish I had listened to myself that summer, that I had been able to stand on my own two feet. In fact, it would take three more years to finally have a spine again.

The way I see her- and what I think is her/our Home form- is of a slender, lithe woman with olive skin and a shining mane of dark hair. Her eyes are wild, glittering with violence, like Villanelle in Killing Eve. She stares at you as if she is weighing your flesh. She looks tired of your life, like your breath is a burden on her.

Our eyes are the same color. They always are, from what I understand.

After what I saw in meditation the last time- she and Alex (not his real name, as I feel occasionally compelled to express) together in their little love nest- I needed to speak to her.

Her. Me. Her/me. Hermie. I dealt with her a great deal in 2011 and 2012, but not much since then. To be honest, I spent the following years trying to pretend none of that happened, desperate to believe I was never that “insane.”

But we all know I’m insane now, so.

We met at The Midpoint, my neutral place- a field full of lush green grass, sometimes filled with some flowers, but always with a shallow, crystal clear stream burbling through the center.

With our feet in the water, I turned to stare at her in disbelief.

“So you’re like… with him?”

She sighed. “I mean. It’s hard to explain. First of all, it keeps him away from you, which is what you have said you want. Secondly, I’m not just going to give up on him, okay? We are working hard to try to make him better. And you understand and accept that this is part of our plan.” Her tone was annoyed, not comprehending or allowing my admonishment.

“But like… how can you just… sacrifice me? Do you understand what you did to my life?”

Her emerald eyes looked flat, blank, and she regarded me like a puddle of waste dripping from a summer dumpster. “I don’t understand. Are you fine now or…?”

My eyebrows bounced in shock. “Oh. Okay. Wow.”

She arched hers back at me and said nothing. Defiant. Uninterested.

After a long moment of silence, I said, “So nothing that I am experiencing now matters to you? What about [our oldest friend, the one who took me to the house to show me this foolishness]?”

She chuckled with a sharp edge of bitterness. “It’s all fresh to you. He is…” She laughed again, almost to herself, shaking her head. “Look. You’re a person, so I get it. You’re swept away in the fable. Ooh, ahh.” She waved her hands as if she was casting a spell, then laughed one more time, darker. Nastier.

“He’s not the person you imagine he is. I mean, look at how he’s behaved with you in this life.” She gave me a hard side-eye, and I acknowledged her with a small nod.

“So… what about Jim?” I asked, tentatively.

She sighed and wouldn’t meet my eyes, offering a half-hearted shrug.

“Oh man,” I snapped. “Seriously?”

“He’s nice, okay?” she replied irritably, her eyes arcing electricity. “And I’m grateful for what he’s done for you. I have a great deal of tenderness for him. He’s doing a lot of really great work right now, and …” she held her palms out. “I mean, we’ll see what happens. It’s just…”

“‘It’s not like what WE have,‘” I sneered at her. “Yeah. I’ve heard that before.”

“You don’t get it,” she said dismissively. “And I know you’ve heard that before too, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Do I love Jim? Sure. But am I also involved with real work with the person you know as Alex? Absolutely. And I am very committed to that right now.”

I threw my hands up, baffled. “So why come here to Earth? Why now?”

She shrugged. “I mean… I didn’t know he’d die. I wanted a chance to live a ‘clean’ life, one without his interruptions. For once.”

“So did you know … like, when he died?”

She arched her brow at me again, observing me with amused irritation. “Did we not find out immediately, and have an enormous, bizarrely deep reaction to it? To the degree that we stopped listening to his music for years?”

Then she held up her hands defensively- a brief moment of concession. “Listen- what has happened here is… not normal. Obviously. Most people don’t have to split in half just to be able to work through something this vile. You’re lucky to not remember most of what happened.” She shook her head gently, like a weary parent. “Stop trying. There’s nothing you will gain from seeing any of what your brain allowed you to lose.”

“And again… you’re okay with that?” I was grazing the edge of appalled, and I could tell my face showed it.

Her mouth pulled hard into a sneer. Furious, even more defiant than before. “And again.. you are fine, right? You lived? You are recovered? You are the most powerful and confident you’ve ever been, living what I see is a lovely, successful, content life?”

I put my hand up and gave her a hard glare. “Hang on. I can’t have intimacy with anyone but the dead, I either sabotage or back away from all friendships, and I’m a fucking retail manager. Of all fucking things.”

Now her entire face twisted into an ugly, disgusted expression. She waved both hands at me dismissively, as if I was a foul scent she could push off. “Oh, please. Give me a break. Don’t pretend you don’t know who you are. Retail manager.”

She rolled her eyes. “You have seen who you are and what you can do. Two of the most powerful souls in this Universe are obsessed with you to the point of ruining your life, and to be honest? We treat them like fuckboys.” She shrugged dismissively. “So don’t be foolish.”

“So you’d rather fuck around with a demon than the other one?” I barked. “I just don’t understand.”

“He’s not a demon, okay?” she snapped. “That’s fucking crude. Demons are worthless. They’re pawns. That was all for show, okay? It was part of his strategy, and it was successful.” Her mouth turned again. “But we were much more successful, and though he exposed a great deal, we have exposed him even more.”

She pressed her palms together, as if trying to hold her patience together. “You don’t understand. You will. Please just worry about yourself.”

“Really? The teeth, the eyes, the cheekbones…”

“Oh my God,” she growled. Her eyes were practically black. “Everyone makes it more serious than it is. It was a charade, okay? You’re fine. You survived. It proved a point to him. It’s a catalyst for his change.”

My eyes were huge. “Oh… kay? Wow. You’re really… invested in this, I see.”

She shrugged dismissively, and I fell asleep.

How do you forgive your own soul when it sacrifices you and isn’t sorry?