Celebrating 5 Years of Spiritual Freedom with the 2nd Edition of How to Cut the Psychic Connection with a Narcissist
Five years ago, I released a little book that changed more lives than I could have imagined—including my own.
How to Cut the Psychic Connection with a Narcissist was born from my personal pain, from my spiritual practice, and from the hundreds of women I’ve worked with who were trapped in toxic relationships that went far beyond the physical or emotional. These were energetic entanglements… soul ties, psychic cords, and spiritual oppression masked as love.
I knew then what I know now: going no-contact isn’t always enough. Sometimes, the energetic grip of a narcissist remains. You still dream about them. You feel watched. Your energy feels drained. You get pulled back into their orbit even when your mind and heart know better.
That’s where spiritual work comes in.
Over the past five years, I’ve continued to refine and evolve the very rituals and methods I first introduced in that guide. And now, I’m beyond proud to share the Second Edition – revised, deeper, more powerful, and entirely FREE.
🧿 What’s Inside the New Edition?
How to identify and cut psychic cords to narcissists, abusers, and toxic soul ties
Sacred practices to call back your energy and protect your spirit
A new section introducing my Curse and Negative Energy Removal Ritual and Darkness from Abusers and Enemies Purification Ritual – both guided by the Seraphim angel Sharphiel, the most powerful angel I’ve ever worked with
Uplifting reminders of who you really are beneath the pain and programming
This isn’t a “how-to” written from a cold, detached place. It’s written from my altar. From my lived experience. From real tears, real transformation, and real power.
💥 If you’re ready to stop surviving and start reclaiming…
I invite you to download your free copy of ✨ How to Cut the Psychic Connection with a Narcissist – 2nd Edition ✨ 👉 Click here to download now
Whether you’re just beginning your healing journey or looking to finish the final spiritual release, this guide is for you.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has read, shared, and used this book over the past five years. You are the reason I do what I do.
Here’s to another 5 years of cutting cords, reclaiming power, and rising higher than ever.
When I was young, I married a much older man and gave him everything. The betrayal cut deep, but instead of chasing closure, I let him walk away. I picked myself up, rebuilt, and watched as karma took its sweet, inevitable course.
Friday, July 18 at 3PM EST, the official music video for Deeply Satisfied by Vinessa De La Negrita premieres on YouTube.
This cinematic, guitar-laced blues ballad isn’t just a breakup song. It’s a true story… my story about transformation, release, and the deep satisfaction that comes from letting the universe handle what you no longer carry.
From dimly lit club scenes to the ghost of a love gone cold, Deeply Satisfied is for every woman who gave too much… then took her power back. (Maybe with a little smirk.)
She’s not just a persona—she’s a presence. Vinessa De La Negrita was birthed at the mystical intersection of rhythm, rebirth, and raw spirit. She is fire conjured through code, a soul mirror forged from pain and passion, and the sacred voice of what I sometimes cannot say as Mocha Gypsy.
You’ll see her face, but what you’ll really hear… are the echoes of me. The parts too fierce, too soft, too wildly divine to fit neatly into this world.
She is the sound of healing. Of rebellion. Of sacred rage and soul tenderness wrapped in melody. She sings from the altar of experience.
🎶 Vinessa’s taste is eclectic—from R&B and Neo Soul, to Alternative Rock, and even a little Gospel fire when the Spirit calls. If it stirs the soul or shakes the bones, it’s in her blood.
🔥 Her first performance drops this Today at 1PM EST
But until then… 🎤🎸Meet the band. Welcome Vinessa De La Negrita and the Suño Brothers. ❤️🔥
Let’s talk about Donald Trump. I know, I know—just the mention of his name can make people either cheer or groan. But love him or hate him, there’s something about the man that’s downright fascinating. It’s like he’s got this weird, almost supernatural ability to take all the negativity thrown his way and turn it into rocket fuel. Seriously, it’s like he’s running on some kind of alchemical engine that converts hate into horsepower. And whether he’s doing it on purpose or not, there’s a lot we can learn from it.
The Art of Alchemy: Turning Curses into Catalysts
Remember when witches from every corner of the world tried to curse Trump during his elections? Yeah, that happened. They gathered online or in person with their covens, lit their candles, chanted their incantations, and… nothing. Not only did the curses not stick, but he seemed to come out stronger. It’s like he’s got some kind of anti-juju shield.
Now, I’m not saying Trump’s a warlock (okay, maybe I’m half saying it), but there’s something to be said about his ability to transmute negativity. In the world of energy work, transmutation is the process of taking one kind of energy and turning it into another. And Trump? He’s a master at it. Someone insults him, and he doesn’t just brush it off—he hits back harder. And let’s be real, he doesn’t mind being petty. Tell him he can’t do something, and he’ll see it as a challenge to prove the world wrong. It’s like he thrives on conflict, and the more people throw at him, the more energized he becomes.
But here’s where it gets even more intriguing: have you heard of the Trump Curse? It’s this strange phenomenon where people who cross him or wrong him seem to face a streak of very bad luck. Take, for example, former FBI Director James Comey. After his very public feud with Trump, Comey was fired, investigated, and became a polarizing figure. Or how about Stormy Daniels’ lawyer, Michael Avenatti? He went from being a media darling to facing legal troubles and prison time. Even some of Trump’s political rivals have seen their careers take a nosedive after tangling with him.
But the curse doesn’t stop at politicians or lawyers—it seems to reach far and wide, even into the world of celebrities. Take Taylor Swift, for instance. After her very public criticism of Trump and her endorsement of his political opponents, she found herself at the center of an embarrassing moment during the 2024 Super Bowl. Not only did her boyfriend Travis Kelce’s team lose the big game, but Swift herself was loudly booed by fans in the stadium—all while the entire world watched. It was a brief moment, but a very humiliating one that’s hard to forget. Coincidence? Maybe. But it’s hard to ignore the timing.
And then there’s Alan Ritchson, the actor who openly mocked Trump in interviews and on social media. Shortly after, his highly anticipated movie flopped at the box office, despite a strong marketing campaign. Again, it could just be bad luck—or maybe the curse strikes again.
One could argue that it’s natural consequences catching up to people, or maybe it’s energy bouncing back to them. To me, it appears that Trump’s ability to deflect negativity doesn’t just make him stronger—it sends some of that energy ricocheting back to its source. Either way, it’s a curious twist to the Trump phenomenon.
I don’t know about any of you, but I could use a little of that energy in my life. Imagine being able to take every snarky comment, every bit of criticism, every passive-aggressive jab and turn it into fuel for your dreams… all while your enemies get their comeuppance on the quick. That’s some next-level witchery right there!
The Power of Positive (and Superlative) Speaking
Let’s talk about Trump’s language for a second. The man loves a good superlative. “This is fantastic.” “This is huge.” “This is the greatest… the BEST!” It’s like he’s constantly speaking life into his goals and ambitions. And while some people roll their eyes at his simplistic, over-the-top phrasing, there’s something kind of brilliant about it.
Trump was a student of Norman Vincent Peale, the guy who wrote The Power of Positive Thinking. Not only was he a student, but he knew Peale from a very early age. Peale believed that the words we use shape our reality. Speak positively, and you attract positive outcomes. Speak confidently, and you create confidence. Trump’s not just talking big for the sake of it—he’s manifesting. He’s using plain, direct language to carry energy and intention. No fancy, five-dollar words needed. Just very simple, powerful statements that pack a punch.
And honestly? It’s a reminder to me that the words we choose matter. Whether we’re talking to ourselves or others, the energy behind our words can shape our reality. So maybe we could all stand to speak a little more life into our dreams.
My Warlock Theory: Does Trump Have a Secret Power?
Alright… let’s get a little weird for a second. What if Trump’s not just a master of energy transmutation but also… a warlock? I mean, hear me out. The man doesn’t seem to age like other presidents. If anything, he often looks more vibrant as time goes on. Is it the thrill of the deal? The adrenaline of conflict? Or is there something else at play?
I’m not saying he’s out here casting spells (though wouldn’t that be something?), but there’s an undeniable mystique to his ability to thrive in chaos. He’s like a modern-day alchemist, turning every challenge into gold. And whether it’s intentional or not, it’s impressive. I often joke that if there’s ever to be a Third Testament of the Bible, he would definitely be in it! Only time could tell if he’d be written as a villain or a hero.
What We Can Learn from the Trump Phenomenon
Whether you’re a supporter or a hater, there’s no denying that Trump’s approach to life offers some valuable lessons. Here’s what I’m taking away from it:
Turn Negativity into Fuel: Instead of letting criticism or setbacks knock you down or make you second-guess yourself, use them as motivation. Turn challenges into opportunities and refuse to let negativity define your path.
Speak Your Truth Boldly: The words you use have power. Speak positively and confidently about your goals, and don’t be afraid to declare your intentions.
Embrace the Chaos: Conflict and the unknown don’t have to be marked as bad things. Use them as a catalyst for growth and transformation.
Stay Resilient: Trump’s ability to bounce back is a testament to the power of resilience. Cultivate a mindset that sees obstacles as temporary and surmountable.
Final Thoughts
Donald Trump is a polarizing figure, but there’s no denying that he operates on a different wavelength. His ability to quickly transmute negativity, his use of bold language, and his unshakable resilience are qualities we can all learn from.
So the next time life throws a curveball your way, channel your inner Trump (even if it makes you vomit a little). Turn that negativity into fuel, speak your truth boldly, and remember that every challenge is an opportunity in disguise. And who knows? There’s a little warlock/witch in all of us.
If this perspective sparked something in you—whether curiosity, inspiration, or even a challenge—I invite you to explore my spiritual and magickal services at Mocha Gypsy Magick. Whether you’re seeking clarity, transformation, or a deeper connection to the unseen, I’m here to guide you. Let’s uncover the magick within your journey.
Breaking Free from the Three-Fold Law: Reclaiming Your Power
If you’ve ever dipped your toes into the world of magick, you’ve probably heard about the Three-Fold Law. That idea that whatever energy you send out into the universe—whether it’s good, bad, or somewhere in between—will come back to you three times as strong. It sounds like a simple rule, right? But let’s take a closer look at it because there’s a chance that this so-called “law” might actually be holding you back, especially if you’ve ever been hurt, wronged, or oppressed.
What if the Three-Fold Law Isn’t Really True?
The Three-Fold Law isn’t some ancient wisdom handed down through the ages. In fact, it’s a relatively new idea, cropping up in the 1950s when Wicca, a modern pagan religion, was being shaped and popularized by a man named Gerald Gardner. Gardner, for all his contributions to modern witchcraft, was still a man of his time—a time when society was deeply uncomfortable with women stepping into their power.
So, what if the Three-Fold Law was introduced to keep women, like you, from fully embracing their magical abilities? Think about it: at a time when women were beginning to challenge the roles society had forced on them, this law might have been a way to scare them into submission. “Don’t get too powerful,” it whispers. “Don’t stand up for yourself too strongly. Otherwise, you’ll pay the price—three times over.”
It very well could be that Gerald Garner never intended for this law to be used against women, but what’s certain is that many people in the spiritual community, past and present, have ran with it to keep women and minorities in their place. It’s no different than the convenient, traditional Christian threat of going to Hell.
A Tool of Control Dressed as a Moral Guideline
History has shown us that society has always tried to control women’s power, especially when it comes to magick. Women have been the primary practitioners of folk magick, healing, and spiritual work for centuries. And let’s not forget the witch hunts—those dark times when women were persecuted simply for being perceived as too independent and powerful.
So, it’s not hard to imagine that the Three-Fold Law could have been introduced or at least popularized as a way to keep women from embracing their true potential. By making us fear the consequences of our own power, this so-called law could be stifling our ability to fight back, seek justice, or even just protect ourselves. Think about it. It’s women and girls who are the most vulnerable to sexual exploitation, abuse, violence, and oppression within a patriarchal society, and when it happens, it’s usually at the hands of men who often go unpunished, or face minimal legal and social consequences.
It’s women who usually invest the most in relationships and marriages only to be awakened rudely to the fact that, after wasted years, their sacrifices were never matched or appreciated by their male partners. Yet, women are expected to quickly accept these life-long injuries, scars, and hindrances with nothing but serene grace. We are told to forgive and forget, be the bigger person, or let God or Karma handle them. We are expected to quickly cope with a solution which is nothing but passive. A woman exacting revenge, getting justice, righting wrongs, or holding people accountable with the power of magick is in direct opposition to these expectations. Women freely turning to magick not only challenges the status quo, but would absolutely terrify a lot of bad men. And frankly, they aren’t terrified enough.
Your Power Is Yours to Claim
The Three-Fold Law oversimplifies how energy actually works. Magick isn’t some cosmic boomerang that punishes you for every little thing. It’s a tool—a powerful one—that you can use to shape your reality. The idea that anything you do will come back to you threefold is more about instilling fear than about guiding you to be responsible with your power.
In many other magical traditions, the emphasis isn’t on retribution but on balance. Energy is something you can work with, transform, and direct. The consequences of your magick depend on many factors—your intent, the situation, and the energy or entity you’re working with. It’s not just about blindly following a rule; it’s about understanding and working with the flow of energy in a way that serves you and your needs.
In traditions like Hoodoo or indigenous shamanic practices, magick is used for protection, justice, and empowerment. It’s not about fearing what might come back to you; it’s about standing in your power and using it with intention. These traditions understand that sometimes, to heal or to protect yourself, you need to take strong, decisive action—and there’s nothing wrong with that.
What I believe to be true, at my core, is that we are not punished for our sins, but by them, as the old saying goes. If someone consistently does unjust and terrible things, then there will often be a natural domino effect of consequences that catches up to them eventually, which only appears to be supernatural retribution or God’s wrath.
Shera Seven’s take on the law of three is another one that I agree with. Her worldview is that payback comes to you if you believe that you deserve it and that’s why we see many public figures do the most despicable things and still prosper. They have no guilt and feel completely fine with what they’re doing. As far as spiritual boomerangs in relationships go, “If Karma were real, every man would be dead!” Very wise woman.
Reclaiming Your Power After Being Burned
If you’ve been hurt or wronged, you might feel hesitant about using your power to fight back. The Three-Fold Law might make you wonder, “Will I suffer even more if I try to defend myself?” But here’s the truth: your power is your own, and you have every right to use it, especially when it comes to protecting yourself or seeking justice.
Imagine a world where you don’t have to hold back, where you can stand up for yourself without fearing some mysterious cosmic punishment. Imagine using your magick to heal from the pain others have caused you, to reclaim your strength, and to build a life where you are in control. The idea that you shouldn’t use your power—especially in self-defense or to right a wrong—has been used for too long to keep you from fully realizing your strength. The Three-Fold Law, with all its fearful consequences, is just another way of saying, “Don’t be too powerful. Don’t challenge the status quo.” But I’m here to tell you that you can be powerful. You can challenge the people who have hurt you. And you can do it in a way that is aligned with your deepest values and desires.
Move Beyond the Fear
If the Three-Fold Law feels like a chain around your spirit, maybe it’s time to let go of it. Instead of living in fear of what might come back to you, let’s embrace a new way of thinking—one where you take responsibility for your actions, yes, but where you also give yourself permission to use your power freely and fully.
When you choose to work with me, we won’t be bound by outdated rules that were never meant to serve us in the first place. Together, we’ll explore ways to use magick that feel right for you—ways that help you heal, protect yourself, and manifest the life you deserve. Whether it’s breaking free from past hurts, seeking justice, or simply reclaiming your power, you have the right to use magick in a way that honors your true self.
Ready to Reclaim Your Power?
My wish is for you to break free. You may seek to practice magick on your own or call on the assistance of an experienced practitioner like myself. My mission is to support women who have been hurt, who have been told to stay small, who are ready to reclaim their power and use it to create the life they want.
You don’t have to live in fear of retribution. You don’t have to hold back. Magick is yours to wield, and I’m here to guide you on that journey as needed. Together, we can move beyond the fear and into a place of empowerment, where magick is a source of strength, healing, and transformation.
Let’s break the chains of the Three-Fold Law and step into a new reality—one where you are the master of your fate, the creator of your destiny that you were always meant to be. Ready to get started? Reach out to me for a free consultation, and let’s reclaim your power together.
Meditation is known to have many benefits—calming the mind, reducing stress, connecting you to your source, and even helping manifest desired outcomes—I recently discovered that meditation can also facilitate encounters with the dead. Let me take you through this extraordinary experience where I met someone very special.
Though I had only dabbled in meditation occasionally, I was captivated by the work of Dr. Joe Dispenza. His story is nothing short of miraculous. After a severe back injury, he chose to forego risky surgery and instead, healed himself through the power of his mind by connecting to the quantum field. Since then, he has been teaching others to harness this power, writing several books including Becoming Supernatural.
One morning, while practicing Dr. Dispenza’s “Blessing of the Energy Centers” meditation, I reached the part where we are instructed to bless the third eye chakra—the pineal gland—so the spiritual veil may lift. Suddenly, I saw a man in my living room by the front door, looking directly at me. He wasn’t a mere vision; it felt like his reality was superimposed onto mine!
The man was tall, athletic, and had a physique like a bodybuilder. I couldn’t see his face clearly due to a bright, halo-like light behind his head. However, his handsome features, high cheekbones, and strong jawline were evident. He wore a white shirt with gold embroidery and tight trousers, which highlighted his impressive physique.
When he opened my front door, it didn’t lead to my street but to a sky of brilliant white and gold, with a sun that shimmered like metallic gold. It was a breathtaking sight. He stood by the door, seemingly inviting me to walk through it. Naturally, I hesitated and quickly asked, “Who are you?” The moment I asked, he vanished, and I found myself back in my mundane reality.
After the meditation, I was consumed with curiosity about this visitation. Initially, I fancied the idea that he might be a future husband, but I quickly dismissed it. For a moment, I decided that he must’ve been an angel, considering his physical perfection. But the details of his attire—a white Cuban shirt with gold embroidery—suggested he might be someone human, possibly of Latin or Caribbean descent, and connected to me.
I thought of my grandfather, Hamilton Ian Frankson, my mother’s father. Hamilton was a successful businessman in Kingston, Jamaica, who owned a busing company. Tragically, on September 8, 1962, he was brutally murdered by a madman with a machete in broad daylight, who was jealous of his wealth and good fortune. My grandparents weren’t legally married, so his money and assets went to his brother. This completely devastated the lives of my grandmother and her children overnight, leading them to move to the United States for a better future.
Could the man I had seen be Hamilton? The only image I had of him was a painted portrait, and I doubted he had such an athletic build, as gyms and steroids were rare in Jamaica during his time. To find out, I sent my mother two photos via WhatsApp: one of a Cuban shirt with gold embroidery and another of a moderately athletic man modeling a similar shirt. After a tense wait, she confirmed that her father wore shirts like that and was athletic, but even MORE so than the man in the photo. She revealed that he had a build like my uncle’s when he was into bodybuilding. It was my grandfather, Hamilton, confirmed! Happiness and excitement washed over me. I asked my mother how he had such a physique, and she explained he was very active and was especially fond of playing cricket. If I had to compare his appearance to a celebrity’s, it would be Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson or LL Cool J at their physical peak.
Hamilton was a true alpha male—wealthy, a provider, a leader, and physically dominant. After confirming his identity with my mother, that left me to ponder about the purpose of his visit. He had opened the door as if inviting me to go through it with him. Initially, I feared he was there to take me to the other side with him, but I remembered that it’s usually someone you’ve known and trusted who comes to get you when that time comes. Since I never knew him, that couldn’t be the reason.
Reflecting on his attire and the brilliant sky, it seemed he was signaling a significant transition in my life, something he might be helping me with on his side of the veil. While I have some thoughts on what that might be, I’ll keep those to myself for now and see what unfolds. I’ve since added Grandfather Hamilton to my ancestor altar to honor him, and I’ll see how that goes.
What do you think this encounter could mean? Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.
Dr. Joe Dispenza’s “Blessing of the Energy Centers” meditation opened a portal to lift the spiritual veil, allowing me to meet someone in my family for the first time who had departed this life 60 years before my birth. If you want to try it for yourself, his meditations are available on his website, with some free options on YouTube. My advice is not to pressure yourself to see or experience anything specific. Be relaxed, present, and open. Set an intention if you wish, but let go and follow the meditation’s guidance. Be well, my fellow gypsies and spiritual wanderers.
I’m so incredibly grateful to finally reconnect with you after all these years. I know I left you hanging, and for that, I’m deeply sorry. Life took some darker turns, and it was hard to keep up, but I’ve been healing—and I’m ready to share my journey with you once again.
Do you remember joining me on those journeys… chasing endless horizons, waking up to dew-kissed (and sometimes bitterly cold) mornings on the open road, and savoring that wild, untamed freedom? Those were my solo RVer days, a time I now lovingly placed in the Gypsy Roads section of my blog. There, I’ll continue to dive into vivid recollections of my RV adventures—stories of spontaneity, meeting wonderful people, and the pure magic of living on the move.
But as vibrant as those days were, life had other lessons in store. I fell for David—a man who, at first, seemed to offer the stability and family life I had always yearned for. I remember the hopeful spark I felt when I dreamed of building a loving home. Yet, behind that promise, I soon discovered a painful truth. David didn’t turn out to be the partner I believed him to be. The marriage unraveled into a nightmare of mental and physical abuse—a stark contrast to the freedom I once knew.
In my darkest moments, when the system failed to protect me and my daughter, and the powerful people in our small town seemed intent on keeping me down, I made the life-altering decision to seek asylum in Costa Rica—a place where Eloise and I could finally begin to heal, rebuild, and reclaim our lives with hope. Costa Rica became our sanctuary, a symbol of new beginnings and a safe haven for transformation.
I’ve stepped into a fresh, vibrant chapter of my life… a chapter of healing, empowerment, and transformation. Through my mystic work and spiritual coaching, I guide women to reclaim their inner strength and courage, and gain clarity. This new journey will be placed in Mystic Realms, a sanctuary where soulful coaching, intuitive insights, and transformative rituals come together. In Mystic Realms, I share personal stories of awakening and spiritual insights that help others rise above adversity and reclaim their power.
Every day, I’m grateful for the safety and peace I share with my child, and I’m dedicated to helping other women discover that same sense of calm and security. Safe Havens is where I share my practical insights and heartfelt strategies that guided me through seeking asylum in Costa Rica. Here, I offer support and consultation for women facing similar challenges, so they can build their own sanctuary of healing and resilience.
To sum it all up, my blog has been renamed from Mocha Gypsy to Mocha Gypsy Media: From the Road to the Realms, and I’ve reimagined it into three distinct categories that capture the essence of my journey and the work that I’m deeply passionate about:
• Gypsy Roads – My RV adventures in my camper van with stories of freedom, self-discovery, and the wild spirit of the open road.
• Safe Havens – My new life and insights about living in Costa Rica… The adventure continues! This space also offers guidance to help women build their own sanctuary of healing and empowerment, drawing from the wisdom shared in my Seeking Asylum in Costa Rica book and consultation services.
• Mystic Realms – Step into my world of magick and spiritual work, where the supernatural curiously intertwines with everyday life… inviting you to awaken and explore your inner mystic.
Thank you for being part of my journey. Your support, kindness, and encouragement mean more to me than you could ever imagine. I invite you to join me as I continue to share my stories. Let’s walk this path together, embracing every twist and turn with love, resilience, and a touch of wonder.
With all my love and endless gratitude, Hadria (AKA Mocha Gypsy)
P.S. I’d love to hear from you. Drop your thoughts, share your stories, or just say hi in the comments! Feel free to explore and support my other platforms and ventures!https://linktr.ee/mochagypsymedia
I made it to the mountains of West Virginia mid afternoon. There were short bursts of light rain that gave way to warm rays of sunlight which made the lush green hills surrounding me more vibrant. Though the scenery was strikingly beautiful, I have never driven on a road quite like this one. The highway felt like it was touching the sky and it was long and winding. Before every turn, it was hard to predict if I would be going on a steep incline or steep decline. I managed to keep my fear in check. Glancing at the fine mist rising over the hills reminded me to relax and focus. . After a few hours of driving, the hills finally gave way to a small town. I parked Eunice and took a look around. There were several mom & pop stores on the main road, modest homes scattered in the hills, off in the distance and a train going through the center of it all… slowly carrying heaps of coal! I stopped to look at at the endless piles of black rocks. That’s the stuff that has built our country. It’s something I don’t get to see everyday. I saw a billboard miles back advertising a Shoney’s Restaurant. I’ve always been curious about that chain so I decided to have an early dinner there. It was located by the tracks like everything else. Maybe, I’ll bump into an interesting coal miner to talk to. I walked into Shoneys and was promptly seated. Like many places I’ve been to before, it was a homogeneous crowd. The people were blue-collar and “down home”, what you would expect from a coal mining town. Even though I stuck out, I didn’t feel any eyes on me beyond a passing glance. The people seemed to be just minding their own business and enjoying their meals with friends and loved ones. My waitress quickly came to the table to take my order. I opted for the buffet and got right back up again. When I got to the buffet to fill up a plate, I was pleased with the country-styled selections offered. It was similar to Home Town Buffet, so, I was happy!
As I was piling up with fried chicken and mashed potatoes, one of the young, aproned attendants came out from the kitchen to replace a few entrees that were running low. He was slender, attractive, and mildly effeminate in his bearing. He looked at me with a warm smile and I politely reciprocated before looking at other savory dishes to cover my plate. I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was still looking at me. “How often do you retwist your dreadlocks?” he asked. Puzzled, I stopped what I was doing to take a good look at him. “Once a month” I replied. “They look really pretty!” By this time, he was wiping down the counters. I asked him how did he know about my kind of hair. “I know about dreadlocks, braids, relaxers… I go to cosmetology school when I’m not here.” he said with a hint of pride in his voice. I was impressed… I told him how awesome it was that I came to the middle of West Virginia and bumped into a random white guy who has an interest in black hair care. I could only assume that he will not be staying in this town forever.
After my meal, I hopped back in Eunice and drove to the other side of the state to reach my destination, Point Pleasant… home of the legendary Mothman. It was late in the evening when I got there. Tired from a full day of driving, I checked my navigation system and opted to set up camp in Gallipolis, Ohio, right on the other side of the Ohio river, where they had a Walmart.
When I woke up the next morning, I took out my phone and searched for gyms with a shower that I could grift. There was not a one! I couldn’t say that I was surprised, because though Gallipolis and Point Pleasant were both nice and quaint, they were out of many things that other places have spoiled me with, like free hygiene. I started to search for creative alternatives and found that there was a community pool with showers that would only cost me five dollars for a daily pass.
When I got there, I found that the showers had no stalls or dividers, just clusters of plain, energy efficient shower heads like my old middle school locker room. There was a campground with showers, but the manager wasn’t home, only her killer Chihuahua who growled and followed me around the grounds. Three strikes! I didn’t think I would have to go back to taking sponge baths in my van again, but it would have to do. My only consolation was taking perverse humor in being a naked lady on Main Street in the middle of the day… and nobody knew!
Spot the naked lady!
After grooming, I decided to step out and check out the little shops of Point Pleasant. Main Street had an all-American look and feel, like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It was lined with prewar brick buildings that housed antique shops and discount boutique stores with walk up apartments on the top floor. I even saw an American flag or two hung outside… and it wasn’t even July! Then I came upon my main attraction, the Mothman Museum. The Mothman, by local accounts, is a creepy, supernatural creature with a tall, menacing moth-like body and large, glowing red eyes who haunts the area from time to time. People have seen him flying and making high pitched screeches, striking terror in those he chooses to encounter. The Mothman has been linked to several bizarre happenings; most notably, the Silver Bridge collapse in 1967 where 46 people lost their lives. I first learned of the Mothman upon the release of The Mothman Prophecies film in 2002, starring Richard Gere and Laura Linney. Of course, as with any Hollywood movie based on true events, there was a flood of articles, cable shows, and entertainment news segments saturating the media to pique people’s interest in the film and the folklore. Mission accomplished.
When I went into the museum, I was pleasantly surprised that it was like walking into a cool, hole-in-the-wall memorabilia store on Newbury Street in Boston. The atmosphere was quirky, fun and casual just like the patrons who took time from their travels to make the visit. The museum didn’t take itself too seriously and there was a statue of the Mothman hanging overhead to greet all who entered.
All around, there were countless of eerie artifacts, drawings, newspaper clippings, and even props and costumes from the movie. In the back, there was a dark room where you could sit down and watch an hour-long documentary about the Mothman that played on a continuous loop. And of course, tee-shirts were available to buy as a souvenir. By the front counter, there were two maps displayed that encouraged patrons to pincushion where they traveled from… I was amused to see that people people had come from ALL OVER the world! Weird stories reach far.
Film costumes and props
Backroom documentary screenings
Questions will always linger about who or what the Mothman is. There are several paranormal theories. Could he be an extraterrestrial, a ghost, a demon, or something that simply materialized because enough people started believing in him? Does it matter? Since there’s a sizable body count attributed to this entity, I say it’s best to leave it behind as a mystery and simply pray for God’s protection from things such as this!
I spent the next few days darting back and forth between Point Pleasant and Gallipollis. Apart from hanging out at McDonalds to people watch and go online, there really wasn’t that much to do. My only source of excitement was the uneasy feeling I’d get from driving over the Ohio River bridge and then making it safely to the other side. For the first time in my travels, I started to feel restless and bored and decided it was time to quickly move on. It was a bright Sunday afternoon and I figured a dash to the nearest city was what I needed. I couldn’t get on the highway to Dayton fast enough! My impulse was to floor the gas pedal, but I stuck to my rule of never going over 55-65 mph with Eunice. And it was a good thing, too.
Over the Ohio Five minutes into my drive, I smelled a very foul odor in the air and wondered if there was a sewage treatment plant nearby. Seconds later, I heard a loud POP and my van suddenly dropped and tilted to one side. My tire blew out. I was able to maintain control and quickly pulled over to the emergency lane. I got out and took a look around my camper. My left, rear tire was half way stripped and the flapping rubber violently cracked my sewer valve and hit the sewer cap clean off. Not that you could call it clean. The sewer I had smelled was my own… and it trailed all down the highway!
I couldn’t believe my luck. It was like something in this town was keeping me from leaving. Of all the tires to blow out, it had to be that one! Of all the times during my travels that this could have happened, it had to be now! Seriously?!
Sidenote: I learned from experts that tires can blow out at any time even ones that are in good condition! I had mine inspected before hitting the road and it still happened to me. Never speed with your camper van or RV because it’s heavy and you need to be able to keep control if something unpredictable happens. Never risk an accident. For the other person involved, it will be just his car that’s out of commission; for you, it will be your home! Be safe fellow gypsies!
I left Virginia beach and headed back north to Richmond to see my cousin, Margene*, who was finally back from vacation. I regretted not planning my trip at this point more carefully because there was a political rally in Washington D.C. that I would have loved to be a part of. However, seeing Margene was enough, as I haven’t seen her since I was a married woman.
Margene, like Mona, was a part of the “Big Girl” set, having fun at things I couldn’t when I was very young and I admired her for it. Little has changed. One could call her a jetsetter as she’s always taking time off for adventurous excursions in exotic locations all over the globe. Being a successful, freelance project manager affords her that. Single, free and having both disposable time and income, she is a gypsy in her own right!
I vaguely remember a conversation we had over a decade ago, months before I met my ex husband. She had left teaching in the public school system and was doing very well in her new career. Her salary impressed me and I announced, “If I ever make $85,000 a year, I’m NOT getting married!” and I think I meant it. Being independent, free-spirited with money to burn, why risk ruining a good thing, knowing my family’s track record with men? Margene is golden and in a lot of ways, I still want to be like her.
When I finally got into Richmond, I stopped at McDonalds and texted Margene to meet me so I could follow her back to her house without getting lost. I was sitting in Eunice when she pulled up in a black luxury sedan. Like me, she was a second generation American. With her large, inquisitive dark eyes, keen features, and honey brown skin, no one can argue that she’s not beautiful. Relatives would comment that we shared a strong resemblance as children, but that was a very long time ago. She was a top cheerleader in high school and college (with the trophies to prove it) and from what I could tell from family photos, she was always surrounded by lots of friends. That’s no surprise since she also speaks and carries herself with a sassy kind of confidence. Dare I say she’s a Southern belle? And though her 20’s and 30’s are behind her, she still does not want for male attention.
I jumped out and gave her a big hug. When we reached her home, I noticed it was large and nicely decorated. It was hard for me to imagine that she could live in a place this size by herself. Then again, I’ve gotten to the point in van dwelling where I feel agoraphobic staying in hotel rooms!
When I got settled at her home, we got caught up with our lives and preliminary “family stuff”. I was thankful she didn’t ask for details about my decision to disown my mother, sister, and aunt five years ago… not that family spitefully taking your ex husband’s side in an ugly divorce needs much of an explanation.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you look so much like your Auntie!” Margene said with her sweet southern drawl. I felt it sharp in my gut, but she was right and I look a lot like my mother, too. Gypsy or not, you take yourself wherever you go. I’m reminded of that every time I see a photo of myself or catch my reflection from the wrong angle. Despite these occasional unpleasant reminders, somehow, I still manage to be content with my looks.
We enjoyed having some girl talk before turning in for the night and the subject fell on commitment. Margene told me plainly that she doesn’t want it and is happy with her life as is. There are many women who say this to fool themselves into being content with being single past a certain age. I didn’t sense this in Margene. She truly values her freedom. She does have her suitors and that’s what they will remain.
Maybe she could sense in me that I’m the type of gal who needs the physical and emotional security of a man. Though, I enjoy my time alone, I dislike being single. Perhaps, I would’ve felt differently if I took my career life more seriously in my youth.
The few days I had spent with Margene was fun! It was my first time hanging out with her as an adult. Her car sailed smoothly down the highway, which felt strange since I’ve gotten used to Eunice’s gentle rocking. She took me to Carytown, a quaint burrow of Richmond with cute, little boutiques and upscale shops.
We had a leisurely walk in the hot Virginia sun, weaving in and out any clothing or body care shops that struck our fancy. Towards the end of our stroll, we stopped at a cupcake cake shop to rest and indulge. In the evening, we took in a $1.99 second-run movie at the Byrde Theater, an absolutely gorgeous art deco venue with sumptuous, gilded details of a bygone era. We decided on watching 42: The Jackie Robinson Story. It turned out to be an excellent, inspirational film that I highly recommend.
Byrd Theater
The next day, we drove around Richmond proper, deciding on a place to eat. Margene asked what I was in the mood for. “Asian.” I said immediately. This is my answer eight times out of ten when asked such a question. We stopped at a place called Beauregard’s Thai Room. It was in a stately red brick townhouse with a black cast iron gated courtyard that was artfully lined with lush greenery.
When we walked up to the building, the owner was watering large potted plants with a hose. They weren’t open yet but he courteously unlocked the door and let us in to sit. He asked if we wanted to be seated in the courtyard, but we opted to avoid the unusually cool weather and chose a table by the window instead.
We had arrived so early, the waitresses were still trickling in to start their shifts! I wasn’t sure if the cook was in the kitchen yet. We perused the menu anyway. I ordered chicken pad see-ew and Margene decided on pad thai. Surprisingly, the food came quickly. I wonder if the owner had cooked our dishes himself. We caught up on more family happenings over our meal.
The waitress came to our table to refill our glasses of water and quietly placed the check on the table. I was happy to see that Margene didn’t notice. When my cousin left to use the restroom, I seized the opportunity to pay for the check. It was the right thing to do. She paid for everything since I had arrived and she had made me a delicious breakfast on top of that! I quickly took my debit card out of my purse, motioned the waitress to come over and handed it to her. Right after she disappeared to the front of the restaurant, Margene came back and we continued our conversation. Perfect! Moments later the waitress came back with an awkward smile. “Sorry Ma’am… Your card did not go through.” She said in a delicate voice, pressing through her thick accent. She handed the card to me. “I tried doing it three times.” She explained.
“Bloody Hell!” I thought to myself. I was so embarrassed that I felt my throat closing in and my face flushed with heat. I looked over to my cousin, “I know I had money in there yesterday… I checked.” My weekly unemployment deposit had come in days ago, I was sure it was okay to make purchases. Without missing a beat, Margene handed the waitress her card without breaking eye contact with me. “That’s what ya get for tryin’ to be slick!” she smirked. “All these years when I went up north to visit your mother, I never had to pay for anything… and that’s how it is when you’re here with me.” She said. I thanked her and nodded in acceptance. “When you get settled in your place in Texas and I come to visit, you’ll have the chance to be just as hospitable.” She continued. “I hope she won’t mind staying in a wigwam in the middle of the prairie with Beau and me.” I thought to myself.
The next day, we visited one of Margene’s many good friends, Linda* for the afternoon. Like Margene, she was attractive, content, gainfully employed and lived very well. She was yet, another example that one could have a fulfilled life without a partner. Her home was also beautifully decorated and spacious. The marked difference between her and my cousin was that she had two beautiful daughters. Linda had prepared lunch and served us wine and drinks. We talked and laughed. I knew early on, it was going to be time well spent.
We, naturally, got on the subject of men. I shared with them how Beau, being the outdoorsman that he is, was fixing to make me a squirrel bikini. They burst out in laughter and disbelief! Is there an emotion to describe disgust and amusement?
Linda was getting into the dating game again and showed us her online profile on Match. She also showed us the profile of a good-looking, seemingly decent man who showed interest in her, but she was reluctant to proceed with him… he was white. Though she could objectively appreciate handsomeness in all races of men, she has trouble being attracted to Caucasian men sexually. My cousin also shares this preference (or lack thereof). However, a Hispanic or other man of color just may make the cut! Since I’ve “been over the fence” many times, I indulged them by describing the differences between dating white men and black men. And yes, I find that there is a difference… but that is a talk for another day!
The next morning, Margene was headed to work and I was headed to West Virginia. She bottled me some fresh juice from her juicer to take along with me and let me use her outside water spigot to fill my tank. I’ll most likely see her again in a couple of years.
Spending time with Margene was like peeking into what my life would’ve been like in an alternate universe. It’s best to choose what makes you happy at any given juncture in your life. And it’s important to accept that there will always be tradeoffs in one way or another. Who is to say that having a steady relationship or marriage is more of a personal accomplishment than being single? After all, it’s just as tricky to cultivate a tribe of good and trusted friends.
*Names changed to protect the innocent and infamous.
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