When did the darkness creep in? When did the Narcissist take over? I’ve been grappling with this question, searching for answers in an increasingly hostile and indifferent world. My body aches, my emotions are like a rollercoaster, and my mind is screaming, trying to keep up with the relentless challenges this year has thrown me. And we haven’t even reached September yet.
So, here’s a quick catch-up, a glimpse into the turmoil of my life, so you can sympathize, scrutinize, analyze, or even patronize, as you see fit.
I was fired, unjustly, after years of dedicating myself to a cause I believed in, only to find that those I fought for wouldn’t stand beside me when it mattered most. I took on a system riddled with corruption, deceit, and fraud, expecting the people I defended to rally to the cause. But when the battle lines were drawn, I turned around to find myself standing alone. The people I had protected for years abandoned me in the moment of truth.
Even with every piece of evidence in hand, plans meticulously laid out, and a clear path to victory, I underestimated the power of manipulation and fear. The influence of my adversary was so pervasive, so insidious, that it crushed the will of those who should have been my allies. And when I stood on the battlefield, ready to fight, I realized I was utterly alone. I can’t name names—I’m still the person who would die on my sword for those in need of protection. But it’s a bitter pill to swallow when the world seems to turn its back.
Months of agony, waiting on the system to deliver justice, took their toll. The CCMA ruling finally brought some semblance of vindication, but the victory was hollow. I couldn’t save those I fought for, and the weight of that failure haunts me. I can only hope that in my defiance, in my willingness to stand against injustice, I’ve given someone, somewhere, a glimmer of hope.
At my lowest, life delivered another cruel twist. My ex-wife swooped in with her predictable, yet still devastating, attacks. I won’t go into details—my children are still my priority, and I refuse to drag them through the mud of adult conflicts. Suffice it to say, I find myself yet again in court, fighting to prove that I’m still a father, that I still love my children with all my heart, and that even in the face of betrayal, I will defend those who need protection.
And then… darkness. A suffocating, all-encompassing darkness. Everywhere I looked, I saw greed, selfishness, and a world spiraling deeper into chaos. It was overwhelming. I needed to do something, to create hope where there seemed to be none. I’ve always been a warrior, forged in the fires of loss and struggle since I was a child. My mother and grandparents instilled in me a never-give-up attitude and a relentless pursuit of justice for the broken and the lost.
I embarked on a new journey, the journey of TerraLuna. I wanted to build a place where life, happiness, and love could flourish, where the currency wasn’t money, but connection and compassion. We came so close—so close to creating something beautiful. But yesterday, my eyes were opened to a harsh reality. The journey isn’t broken, but the setback was a stark reminder that the greatest dangers often come from within.
As I left for Centurion to spend my limited time with my children, chaos erupted within our TerraLuna community. The very group we’d built on the foundation of hope and unity was being torn apart by the malignant influence of one core member. The abuse, the manipulation, the erosion of trust—it all became clear in the terrified eyes of those around me. The denial I’d clung to for so long, the belief that I could fix everything, was shattered.
I was in the grip of another narcissist. I was so convinced of my own strength, so determined to prove my worth by saving this person, that I nearly lost myself in the process. But as I stood there, in that moment of quiet clarity, I knew that any resolution less than cutting out the cancer would be the death of our dream. I had to protect what we’d built, even if it meant making the hardest decision of my life.
The weight of that decision is crushing. The pain is suffocating. But I couldn’t ignore the destruction any longer. I saw it in my queen’s distraught eyes, heard it in the frightened voices of those who dared to speak up, and felt it in the trembling of my own hands.
There was no turning back. No more hiding, no more denial. The decision was made in the quiet of the night, as my queen sought solace in sleep that would not come for hours. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. The lives of an entire community, the future of a dream, and the well-being of those I love were all on the line. I knew the fallout would be severe. I knew I would be judged, isolated, and hunted for making this choice. But I also knew that if I didn’t act, everything we’d worked for would be lost.
So, I acted. I made the decision, knowing full well the consequences. The pain is yet to come in full force, the judgment will arrive at my door in time, but I’m ready. I’ll weather the storm, as I have so many times before, because, for the first time, I’m acting not out of fear, not out of ego, but out of a deep, unselfish love for what we’ve built. I’ll pay the price, so others don’t have to.
Amor Fati
