The Heir

Don’t act like (she paused to switch up her words), don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talk’n bout….you didn’t know”?  I wasn’t sure if this was some kind of manipulation tactic to persuade me to keep staying at the hospital to care for Poppy or what but, I was going to do what I could regardless.  I really didn’t know what she was talking about. After she said it the third time on the way up the elevator, I knew she was serious yet, I had no information on me being the heiress of anything.  

My Poppy and I spoke briefly about his will, meaning I had only asked him if he had one, after realizing how iffy some of my Aunts and Uncles were. He responded by saying, “I do”.  It was the same day he told me about an insurance policy he had together for me in my name- he said it was enough to take care of what needed to be taken care of. He told me he had insurance policies on all of his kids.  Anyhow this conversation I had with my Aunt Linda happened when my Poppy had spent his first few days in the hospital, weeks after he was transferred to a pain management center.  His knees were giving out- it was the decades of military service as well as the decades of postal service, feet to ground time delivering mail. Many miles were put on those legs, knees.

Quick flashback … .Before moving into my apartment in 2009, I was living with my Grandparents, as usual when I needed to get me and my finances right again.  It was hard to watch him walk, his movement became slower and slower.  Meaning, as he walked, the steps became shorter and shorter while his leg movement was even slower.  He knew it and I knew it.  I hated it. And I couldn’t do anything about it.

Back to the night I looked up my Grandparent’s address on the County’s Website….

Wait, Wait……I have an announcement.  I didn’t write this post all at once.  It’s been two weeks since I posted.  I felt like if I told my story, I’d feel better.  The fact is, I’m 41 and no longer in my 20’s, soo much time has gone by. I live in my Brother’s partners’ house, with her two kids as well as my brother and Ma’.  The fact is, yes, I was treated unfairly but, what do I do now?  I forgive and move on.  Yes of course but, I’m still going to share my story.  Once I’m done, I’m done.

Oh guess what?  I just found out that my Grandparents house has been sold for around $180,000 to $200,000.  I heard that it was sold so I looked on Zillow for the estimated amount it was sold for.

Affidavit Of Heirship

Anyhow, that night I looked on the county clerk’s website, I found an Heirship Affidavit of Earl Wallace Thomas, my Poppy. It was signed by Erica M. Hairston- my cousin and Aunt Joan’s daughter. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before but, Joan was the Power Of Attorney (POA) of my Grandfather at the time, she was also the POA of my Grandmother who recently passed away as well.  The Heirship document listed all of his deceased and living children. It wasn’t the kind of document Erica would just create on her own then take to the county clerk’s office to be notarized, then recorded. Erica was and still is known to move, act and speak at her mother’s will- it’s pretty much always been this way, a bit eerie really.  Ask the “family”, they’ll tell you the same thing. This isn’t just an opinion, this is fact.  This was something she was definitely instructed to do.

I just literally looked up the definition of an Heirship Affidavit. It actually blows my mind abit.  An Heirship Affidavit or Affidavit Of Heirship is a sworn statement averring that someone is a decedent’s heir under a state’s intestacy law and is entitled to inherit some or all of the decedent’s property. Now tell me something, why would Erica create a document like this?  This was a document that Joan AND her daughter created. Erica’s address was listed as that of my Grandparents, which was a lie. She never lived there, ever. 

There were a few things that stood out to me on this document.  The first, as stated above, she listed her address to be that of my Grandparents. Second, the language she used made it sound like they were well acquainted, not true, they barely spoke.  Grandma on the other hand was very acquainted with Erica and her mother. Third, there was one question out of three- did the descendant leave a will? Two letters in capital and bold stated, NO. This is definitely a LIE. Thereafter as I had mentioned before, it listed all living then deceased children.  The document was notarized on November 12th 2010, three to four weeks after my Poppy passed on. He passed over on October 22nd 2010.

Wouldn’t it make sense for all eight of his living children to get together to create an Heirship Affidavit?  Why would Joan and her daughter create one, notarize it then record it at the County and not inform any of her siblings? I’ll go into the reason why I’m asking why she didn’t tell someone another time.

An Honorable Man

 I’d like to tell you a little about my Poppy, Earl Wallace Thomas. Or, my perception of my Poppy.  He was/is a sweet man.  Poppy was a bit reserved and pretty much stayed to himself.  He didn’t go out much unless it was time to grab groceries or pay a bill. Literally lol.  He had one friend from the lodge that would come over once and a blue moon to go over paperwork.  This man would always come over with a briefcase.  We called him Mr. Lotty (I’m not even sure if that’s how you spell his name).  My mother told me the other day that Mr. Lotty passed over as well. To this day, I wonder what this paperwork actually was. My Poppy didn’t say much but, when he did, it meant something.  I was raised by my Grandparents but with my Ma’ as well. They were the first faces I saw when I got here.  Poppy did so much for my Brother and I. So much so that it seemed a few of his adult children in the family didn’t think it was right.

Poppy was a bit reserved while my Grandma’ was the opposite.  She was very talkative, then and now (that’s another story). He loved to watch movies, movies with hidden meanings, just like me.  One thing I noticed about my Poppy was, he was VERY ORGANIZED. He kept all of his paperwork and documents in files, files that were categorized in his computer desk/cabinet.  He also kept documents and files in separate safes. I saw it, I lived with him, I know. Ask anyone in the family, well, don’t ask Joan.

Poppy served in the United States Air Force then retired. He served as a United States Postal worker then retired as well. He was also part of 2 or so Masonic families.  My Poppy was/is an honorable Being.  The way he was treated before and after he passed was horrible- believe me, there’s more.  But, the way they made him look incompetent with his estate is pure evil. They stole from him, they stole from us.

My Aunt Joan conjured up this scam, it was all a lie.  He told me he had a Will, I know he did. Also, Joan, the POA, you know the one who was in charge of all of his important documents including his finances, purposely let his insurance policies lapse when she was supposed to keep them current. Again, why would Joan and her daughter create an heirship affidavit when there were seven other of his sons & daughters that, truthfully, it should’ve been theirs to create. Why would Erica lie and say she lived there with my Grandparents????  WHY? Why didn’t anyone know this was going on???

But, Ofcourse Joan, the POA of my Grandfather at the time, knew what she was doing.  She wanted to make sure an Affidavit, which is usually taken as “fact” within the court, was created to have some sort of blind proof that my Poppy did not have a will, right after his passing and without the other siblings knowing about it.

They Stole His Gold

Oh, I forgot to mention…. There were family members that stole his gold. He left his gold bars within a safe, the safe was cracked open.  I was not living there at the time but, Joan and her daughter had flown in to “help” while Poppy was in his sick bed. There were a few other family members that were there that shouldn’t have been. My Ma’ was there so, I didn’t feel too bad but even so,  I didn’t like what I saw…. I would come to visit while on break or after work to see him in the hands of thieves.  One day I came and noticed he was being handled a bit too roughly and was told to “shut up and get out”. It was my cousin Rodney.  What the hell was he doing there?  

To be Continued….

High Tides 2

High Tides

When Paul (We’ll call him “Paul”) and I met, at the time, I was the only one working.  But, by 2020, Paul had his own income and was financially taking care of the both of us.  The year prior, we had both agreed that I would take a break from working and test out my writing skills for a few years. I’d work on my writing and he’d be the breadwinner. Around March or so in 2020, I decided that it was time to atleast try and make some income of my own and save. I wasn’t making the best decisions with my money.  I don’t think I ever did at that time and even before, I was taught NADA, very ignorant when it came to funds.  Because I no longer wanted to rely on his income, I went back to the salon so I could save, while planning a peaceful exit.

Also, the year prior I had stopped drinking and became pregnant. And, for a month and a half, I was able to test out and see what kind of “family” we’d become, what type of father he’d be and so on. I didn’t like what I saw. I couldn’t do it. His continued pill popp’n, lies, and the alcohol surely didn’t help. Keep in mind, at one time it was I doing the same as he. I had picked up the pill habit soon after meeting Paul. But, that had changed. While pregnant I didn’t foresee the best outcome for us as a family. All I could see was what we were in that season.  Sadly, my pregnancy ended just as fast as it started. 

I was ready to heal myself from everything. It was hard to become completely clean (without pills) if only one of us wanted to and the other didn’t.  He’d travel every week and would be gone for weeks at a time, sometimes even longer. So while he was off on his work trips, I started to research. I was researching law, code, and the history of the United States of America and the United States, the business- oddly enough. I got myself involved with people who believed in living their life in a Sovereign way.  They knew the US Codes, Law, policies and procedures. They believed that everyone should know and live by their God given rights. 

As I drifted towards their way of living, I was moving away (emotionally) from him. I started to take classes, read a bit, take walks and exercise daily.

One day, we had a talk. I told him that I loved him but wasn’t in love as before and at that moment we needed to take a break, so we could both heal. He didn’t like what I had to say at all.  Truthfully, I was a lil nervous and anxious because sometimes he would get really emotional.  I’ll save you the dramatics- just know, a few weeks afterwards, we drew apart and he left.

You’re probably saying right now, “What were you thinking Max?”  I know, I had no income yet, I wanted to end the relationship. Why? Well, I thought, If I didn’t end it then, it would never end- I really did love him, and didn’t want to lose him.  I felt weak though and I wanted to get strong again. 

By then, the man-made “COVID” was lurking around. Some still had jobs to go to and some, like me, were jobless because they didn’t agree with wearing a mask 8 hours a day. Wearing masks like that and for so long felt like self-suffocation.  I felt the media had some kind of sheep-master control plan that was targeting the people.  That’s another story. Anyway, it was very eerie to me.

The end of 2020, I believe I was at least 2 months past due on rent. I was frightened to lose my space but grateful to have it to myself at that moment. I’d contemplate often on what I’d do if I was evicted. I’d go back and forth within myself from “I can’t go back to my Grandmother’s house (where I was raised)” to “I wish the “family” had land here, as well as homes”. I’d call out to the Angels, my Spirit Guides and would even go outside to chit chat with the Sun, letting them all know that I needed their help- I needed them to help me somehow, someway get into a space of my own, to open a door for me so that I wouldn’t be forced to live at my Grandmother’s or anyone else I was related to. I’d also think about my Poppy. He passed to the other side on October 22nd 2010. 

In mid 2010, after he came from the Texhoma Christian Care Center, he was placed back into his home and into one of his rooms. It was my Aunty Cynthia’s old room. It was even mine at one time. It was what he said to me when I came to see him one day.  It has stuck with me for so long.  He said, “Mac Mac, I need to call the people to make sure you, your Mom and your Brother will be taken care of when I leave”, he said this at least three times.  As I write this, I get a bit emotional and tired actually.  At that time, he was being taken “care” of by those at the house, I didn’t like what I had seen. After he told me that, I remember telling my Ma’, my Grandmother and a few others. My Ma’ would roll her eyes and give me the “go on girl” hand wave, and they would all say individually and in groups that, “We’re not worried about that, Joan’s taking care of it”

Back to what I was saying, I would go back and forth within myself asking the Angels, Spirit Guides and even the Sun to help me in some way to where I wouldn’t have to go back to my Grandmother’s and wondering as well if my Poppy’s estate and Will was tampered with- did he leave a trace of anything or did his POA, my Aunty Joan, get rid of all evidence of a will and inheritance.  What a weird mixture huh?  No, not really.  I’d always think of this. I had a reason…..many reasons actually. More on this later.

One night, after the usual contemplating and pleading with the non-physical, I thought to look at our County’s website to see if I could get any information on Poppy, if there was a trail of information waiting for me to find it.  Something led me to look up my Poppy’s name and my Grandmother’s name.  For years, on years, after many weird encounters with my Aunt Joan and others, I’ve felt she was hiding more than others knew, hiding what’s been done with the “family’s” Money.  

You see, Joan was the Power Of Attorney (POA) for my Poppy before he passed and she was also the POA for my Grandmother who recently passed as well. When my Poppy was in the hospital, I would spend the night and I remember meeting one of my Aunts downstairs in the lobby to show her where his room was. I remember her leaning over and saying, “So everyone’s talking about how you’re the Heir”  I had no idea what she was talking about. “Don’t act like, don’t pretend like you don’t know. You don’t know?”

To Be Continued….

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High Tides

In early 2020, my time off from “slaving” was wearing off and most of it was spent contemplating on how I’d be able to peaceably part from my partner.  I had whole heartedly fell in Love with him but, I felt like I was a Guardian rather than a Lover.  We’d been together for about 6 years.  When we met, I was still grieving over the passing of my Poppy, Earl Thomas.  Poppy was the only one in the family I thought actually cared about my well being. It seemed many in the family were jealous of me … .Why do you ask?  I ask the same question sometimes.  How can people be jealous of someone who has nothing?  I could only imagine it was because of who I was, who I am.  I speak of jealousy and the family later on in my writings so you can come to your own conclusions.

I was grieving over my Poppy when Jay and I met. Every Night I’d drink vodka like it was water. I’d drink often after being reminded of how my Poppy had passed away, who was around him during that time, how he was being treated and the evil acts my family members committed right after his passing. Maybe I should elaborate on this before getting to my story on how I ended up back at my Grandmother’s, back into my childhood home. I’ll elaborate on Poppy after this post…

I had a serious drinking issue, and knew it. I was drinking away all the eerie acts I had seen and heard.  My life was yucky, I was working at a salon at that time and just got back from a failed move to Austin. I lived in an apartment complex that used to house soldiers, it was an old barracks. The owner of the apartment complex was nice enough to let me rent a space from him as I did before moving to Austin. Right across the street from the plex was a bar that I would go to every couple of weeks (around pay day) to get 2-3 shots of Vodka with a heineken to wash it down. The bartender was a lady that could have been at least 20 years older than me, she had platinum hair and was really nice to me. She knew I’d only come to drink and to feel a bit of normalcy.  I was always by myself, If I went anywhere, it was by myself.

One night, in July of 2015, I believe it was right after my Poppy’s birthday (4th Of July) I sat at the bar, working the last bit of my drink. Then, he walked in.  He walked to the bar, ordered his drink and asked for quarters to play pool.  I listened as he spoke with the bartender but didn’t stare. I noticed the east coast accent and thought to myself “he’s definitely not from here”.  After he made his requests, he turned to me and smiled and asked, “What’s your name?”  He had the biggest smile. He had the deepest dimples. We locked eyes.  He asked if I wanted to play pool with him.  At that moment, I felt a feeling of nostalgia, like I already knew him. We ended up playing maybe 7 or 8 games of pool that night.  I didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew my balls needed to make it in the holes.  As I played pool with him, that nostalgic feeling became stronger and stronger. Truthfully, it felt like it was only him and I in a room.  I had never felt that way before with someone else- feeling as if I had known him already when in fact, in my mind, I had never seen nor spoke with him before. So much so that, after the last game I invited him over to chat more at my apartment.  My apt was only a few steps away and I felt safe. It was my first time inviting someone over, let alone from a bar.  He was a bit hesitant to come over.  I could imagine he thought it was a norm for me to invite complete strangers over but, he had no idea how much of a recluse I was/am- he’d soon find out.

That night should have been the first night we met, as well as the night I said, “Well, it was nice meeting you, be safe, and take care”.  Why do you ask?  Well, the first 20 minutes or so of us conversing, he asks if he can smoke.  I told him it’s fine to smoke but, right outside the front door.  He opened the front door and walked outside to smoke.  There were only 2 floors and I lived on the 2nd floor, the top, which had wooden planks as steps and could be called some sort of a porch. A few seconds later I heard the loudest “plump” sound.  It sounded like he face planted- hit the floor with his face. I jumped up so fast, ran towards my front door, turned the knob and pulled it open to find him lying there on the wooden planks, face down.  I screamed. It looked like he wasn’t breathing. Freaking out, inside and out, I immediately called 911. I remember walking over to him, calling his name, trying to see if he was breathing but couldn’t tell. By the time the ambulance arrived, I was on the phone with my Ma’, leaning on the ground next to him. They ran up stairs with their tools and equipment.  As they resuscitated him, one asked if he was on any drugs, another asked what exactly did he take and I also heard someone say, how do you know this man?

I couldn’t believe what was happening. In between the questions they asked I remember thinking to myself, “I don’t even know him, I literally just met him about 2 hours ago and he just face planted on the wooden planks outside my door.” So, when asked if he took anything, in half a second I had a flashback from 10-15 minutes prior. I asked him if he did anything else besides drinking.  He told me that sometimes he would take lortabs and other pain killers I had never heard of. After that replay in my head, I answered them and let them know he sometimes takes pain pills. One of the EMS guys looks at the other and says, “No, he had to have taken something else.” Another one said, “He had to have had something else, I’m positive he had something other than pain pills. They started to mumble amongst themselves.  I started to become irritated because they were speaking as if they knew him and it just seemed like they weren’t checking his body or anything, for a moment there they were literally just staring at him. No Joke.  3 to 4 minutes later, he became conscious. They stood him up and asked him questions just to make sure he was okay and didn’t need to be brought into the hospital. I stood by his side the whole time as If I was his Mother or Guardian or something. By that time the cops had shown up. They started to ask him questions which, made him a bit paranoid and agitated.  He then switched from paranoid and agitated to belligerent with them.  

Somehow I ended up dragging him into my apartment, if I hadn’t, they would’ve booked him for making a scene.  I let the men know that I would take care of him and he’d be safe inside with me. I’m telling you-all, they treated and spoke to him as if he was a misfit and that I had no clue what I was dealing with.

Once inside, I stood as he sat on the edge of my couch with both his palms laid over his head.  I asked, “What did you take?” He was embarrassed about what happened and started rocking back and forth. He was very hesitant to answer me.  Next thing I know, he walked quickly into the bathroom, closed the door and started wailing, crying.  Right then and there, I had this overwhelming feeling that we had met for a reason, and that reason was for me to care for him.  I went from thinking I was interested in him romantically to thinking, “I’m here to help and protect him”. He didn’t want to come out of the restroom, he called himself a “fuckup” and even mentioned something about me “leaving him”. I tried to console him and with love, spoke to him on the other side of that door.  I told him that he wasn’t a “fuckup”, everybody makes mistakes and it’s okay.  I told him that I wasn’t going anywhere, I wouldn’t leave him and I was there to help. Long story short, that was the night we met. 

Our relationship was like a rollercoaster, and in 2020, I knew for a fact, it was time to get off.  I had picked up a few habits from him, and on the other end of the pole, he picked up a few habit’s from me…. He started to think more highly of himself.

To Be Continued….

Max Signature

P.S.

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©Maxine Leola Thomas

Before I Start, I’d Like To Explain….

Before I share with you what happened at the end of 2020 and the beginning of 2021, I want the people to know that I’m not wanting to relive the issues.  I don’t want you to think that I’m sour or wanting to stay in a negative mindset.  I will tell you that I am angry, and I’m working through all of this.  I wasn’t able to see a therapist, I never have actually, I’m sure it would’ve been great for me.  At this time, speaking and writing is my therapy and after writing about it, I do feel some sort of release- Until I’m able to get another form of it, this is it.  

I’m not a natural grump. I’ve just been through some shitty situations. Even so, I want to be better, I have to be better and I need to be in a better environment. I know that I’m not the only one.  Have any of you been raised in a family wanting and yearning to run away from them and never come back?  Okay, well, have you ever wanted more in life and realised that the people in proximity to you were not the ones to help you get it. They were in fact manipulative, jealous and wanting just the opposite for you.  Now, that’s a nasty situation huh? There’s so much more though.

In the last 5 years or so, I’ve learned a bit about frequencies and vibrations- only enough to realize that both need to be high….that managing my thoughts and feelings is what will then result in a higher frequency/vibration which, will then bring all that I’ve ever wanted to me in this place. I haven’t studied in depth of F&V just yet, I’ve only brushed over the surface.  How can someone’s F&V be high when they’re angry, annoyed and upset all the time?  This is the way I feel when I’m with “family”.  It’s not right. This is what I’ve been going through.

40 years in this place, on Mama Earth and not once as a child, teen or young adult do I remember a “family” member, “family” friend, stranger, “teacher” or guide come to me and say, “Max/Maxine, in this place, here on Earth in order for you to have a successful life journey, your gonna have to learn about the Self, Spirit Realm, Spiritual/Universal Laws, manifestations, frequencies, vibrations and money….and I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”  It would have saved me so much heartache, pain and poverty.  It just seems like my life here (the previous years from today) was wasted, wandering in the wilderness.  Not even the Angels or Spirits told me anything about it. I was only given signs and symbols but never anything to do with the 7 subjects I just listed.  You say, “Well you could’ve asked”.  How can someone ask about something they know nothing of?  This is part of the anger that I’ve been working through.

Let’s be real.  When born into these human “families”, it’s sometimes like being born into a cult, and sometimes it’s not the good side of culture either.  Damn near impossible to get out of.  You basically live on their words, beliefs and actions.  Those before you didn’t do anything great, neither did the ones around you.  It’s not something to brag about. It’s like ignorance infecting the family, and they all want to keep it in the family- Idiocy and secrecy reign. I’ve tried leaving the “family” several times, only to be lured right back in because I didn’t have the finances, and wasn’t stable enough to be financially independent. It almost seemed like I was brought up this way intentionally.  More details in book form.

Now, at the ripe age of 41, I have spirits and recently passed family members speaking to me, and you know from specific ones, I’m not so happy about it. To the Spirit Guides that have been oh so audible lately: You could’ve been audible long ago explaining all that I needed to know to become successful on this journey. Nada, I got Nada.

Many goals and dreams were smashed and annihilated because I didn’t know what was going on and neither did the ones around me.  I didn’t know about money, didn’t know I how to manifest anything and I surely didn’t know about any spiritual or universal laws.  Tell me something?  Why do they keep this vital information tucked away and damn near sealed from children?  I know that there are few families that do teach their children this information but, I’m speaking on the vast amount of children that are thrust into the public school systems while their parents are slaving away. Why is this vital information kept from new spirits that arrive here?  

I’m a bit upset and angry with these Spirit Guides.  Who wants to be told the rules of the game in the 4th quarter?  Who, please tell me who?  As I write this, they are in the background repeatedly saying to me, “it’s a process”.  Nope, that’s not enough information, sorry.

So, yes, as you can see, I have a bit of anger and questions to work through. This anger didn’t truly arise until about a year and a half ago after the tumultuous times I had at my Grandmother’s house in 2021.

I know I deserve more, I deserve better. I want to be happy and at peace. I don’t recall the last time I felt happiness or felt at peace but, I know one thing, it was never with my “family”.

Anyhow, enough of my finger babble. Here, I’ll share my most recent events, other occurrences and early childhood will be written into book form, as said before.  Stay tuned, the next post we’ll start at the end of 2020 and beginning of 2021.  Thank You for taking the time out to read. See you soon.

My Best, 

P.S. Don’t forget to check out my Youtube Channel.  It may be a bit redundant on subject but, witness my growth. 

©Maxine Leola Thomas

Enixam, Sort Of An Introduction….

My name is Maxine, named after my Grandmother on my Ma’s side but I like to be called Max.  Lately, I’ve been leaning towards the name, Exixam- I feel like a totally different being than from 5 or so years ago.  I’m in the “process” of healing from my “Family”, the people in close proximity, my city, society, participating on Earth, spiritual trauma and of course all the idiotic decisions I’ve made that were rooted out of the programs that were installed within me.

Truthfully, when I was in my mid teens, I didn’t think I was going to live this long.  A few friends had passed away and there was and still is a stigma passing around that goes a little something like this, “The Good Die Young”. And because of my nature or how I knew myself to be, I had a feeling I was just passing by. I’ve had to go into my archives to get it removed several times over the last 25 years.

Anyhow, I am 41 now. Currently living in what is typically called a “toxic” home.  A home that consists of 5 other people:  my 40 year young brother, the Misogynist Caveman (I say this lovingly yet annoyed at the same time), his partner who’s backbone is actually strengthening, she’s no longer as week and defenseless as she use to be, and their beautiful 15 yo son and 17 yo  daughter- My nephew is sweet and pretty much stays to himself and my niece is just the same but, she’s picked up her fathers mouth which isn’t such a good thing. 

I sleep on one half of a sectional that was separated from the other, the short end. Both directly across from each other but both on opposite walls. My Ma’ sleeps on the other which has a full space missing, she often fills it with blankets.  I tell her all the time to switch with me so she doesnt mess up her back sleeping that way. As I write this she is watching recordings of people playing casino games at casinos, on Youtube.

A gift of mine has heightened within the last 11 months or so. I’m not so sure why it’s considered a gift.  My recently passed Grandmother has been softly audibly speaking to me since May of last year.  Her and a few others are consistently saying, “it’s a process” when I’m thinking or moving stressfully or when I’m a bit anxious. She passed about a year and a half after evicting me, my Ma’ and her bully Faith.  Her daughter, Joan the POA had persuaded her to do so. I’ll go into detail about this later but just know, Joan lied in court, several times.

Anyway, from the otherside my Grandma’ speaks, a little too much actually. The family has always thought I was crazy so, her and the other spirits and guides that speak to me aren’t really helping them think otherwise. If I had to give an analogy of the whole situation, it would be like the story of Joseph in the bible.  I’ve had the ability of foresight in dreams since I was a child and I’m very sensitive to the non-physical.  My dreams haven’t been as clear as they once were because I’ve been overindulging in coffee which has made my dreams a bit foggy and not as memorable as before.

As a child, when anything would happen within the family, we were often told, “whatever happens, stays here”. My Grandmother even had a framed picture in her bathroom that said, “whatever happens at Grandma’s house, stays at Grandma’s house”.

After being evicted, I became very depressed and angry. I did everything I could for my Grandmother and she was the only one in the family that I would talk to in depth about anything. I trusted her, cared for her and cooked for her.  I couldn’t help financially in the house, I wasn’t working at the time but my Grandma would remind me ever so often that it was okay, and this is what “family” is supposed to do….etc.  I actually thought our little bond was stronger than the whispers of that serpent, I mean, stronger than the whispers of Joan, her POA.

The question is, why is my Grandmother now whispering to me and not the others? Why is she not communicating with her sons and daughters as she is with me right now? This should speak volumes to those reading right now.

After all the lies, backstabbing, stolen inheritances and toxic times, I am here to let it all out. No more keeping it in the “family”, it’s not healthy nor normal….to me that is. I’m releasing all this sh*t. You’ll be shocked to hear about all that I’ve gone through, the good, the bad….the real, the raw, the truth.

Stay tuned….

My Best,

P.S  I’ve started a Youtube channel specifically to release all that’s been bottled within.  Still, I explain myself better in writing than I do speaking and I want to change this. If you’d like to view my channel, just know I’m starting over and I’m doing the best I know how, right now. My Youtube handle can be found at the bottom and some side panels of every page, you can also see the link just below. Thank you.

Click Here To Get To My YouTube Channel!

©Maxine Leola Thomas