I. In coffee convo with my muppet this morning. A thing we agreed on because we both have these kinds of people and this kind of grief in our lives:

“Garbage human being, yes, but *MY* garbage human being!”

We grieve garbage people because we love them. We do not love that they are garbage. We love them despite the fact that they are garbage. That makes us the opposite of garbabe people.

II. I know “garbage” is a harsh word, but those of us who have trauma because people can’t be decent human beings need words to describe the depravity, the lack of conscience, the self-absorption, the duplicitousness, the treacherousness, the fecklessness of the people who have done us harm and “garbage” sums it up.

Give us space to feel our feels so we can come back to grace. Don’t expect us to have grace for truly garbage people. Some people are garbage.

III. The vast majority of the people I know are not garbage. I do love some garbage people. It’s a hard habit to break, but I’m working on it. It is weird to love someone you *know is a totally garbage (read: harmful, dishonest, shady, self-absorbed, mean-spirited, misanthropic, racist, transphobic, misogynistic, rapey, harmful) human being. It can stir up shame. But listen.

Good humans are wired to love.

We love even those who are wired otherwise, whether by nature or by nurture. We love them because we filter them through our own understanding of what it is to be human, and their inability to show up as goodly humans is so foreign to us that we choose to disbelieve our own experience. We can’t believe our own eyes, our own ears, the truth being whispered in our tender hearts, so we don’t.

That’s not a character defect. That’s a survival tactic. It is wholesome as fuck that we love those who cannot show up in love.

Allowing them to continue to harm us, though? That is the thing that needs to be nipped in the motherfucking bud.

Learn to love garbage people (if you must, and most of us must) from a distance that does not put you in harm’s way.

IV.  Meanwhile…

V. I painted live with my witches today and it was super powerful. I got to speak to some magic I did a couple of years ago that has come into full flower (letting go of garbage humans without it being searingly painful). I also got to speak to some magic I did last new moon (seeing love where it *actually is* in my life and calling it in). It was a powerful session.

It is “pinned” which means that I have shut down the portal for this working with the option to open it up again on the actual full moon in Scorpio on April 26th. I plan to write (either in black so it is hidden or in code) about the times I embraced uncertainty and was met with blessings. The painting is a celebration of my own ability to welcome the role of the mystery (or The Mystery) in my life.

Also, I love pomegranates so there’s that.

VI. Some garbage human beings don’t stay garbage. Some change. I’ve seen it.

VII. But….most of them don’t change, and the INFJ door slam is sometimes a perfectly healthy and reasonable response.

VIII. I am fully embracing my ability to smile and nod and refuse to do The Relationship Autopsy because my emotional bandwidth is now reserved for what lives, not what has already died. If you need an autopsy, that’s fine. I’ll show up upon request, but I no longer believe in closure. I no longer believe in “understanding why”. I believe in doing whatever I need to do to get myself clear of whatever harm is being done, and I believe in going where the truth lives.

The truth comes with laughter, empathy, shared secrets that harm none, snatching each other and ourselves when we’re on the wrong road, pleasure, loyalty – both to self and other – and devotion.

It doesn’t live in deception, manipulation, gaslighting, subtext, projection, or bypassing.

All of the above? Garbage. 

Denial is not garbage. It is a survival tactic that I am intimate with. It is not *harm done on purpose*. It is avoidance of harm.

It’s the on-purpose stuff that makes garbage.

I’m not here for *waves at all of that*.

IX. That being said, I’m not here to take out *your* garbage, either which is why I’m no longer interested in the autopsy. I’m here to recognize and take out my own garbage.

X. You? You take out your own.

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