
There’s a moment, somewhere between your seventh ignored email and your tenth gaslit memory, when something shifts. You don’t even realize it at first. You’re just sitting there, holding a mug of cold tea, thinking about how you’ve been dragged through the emotional hedge backwards yet again by the one-man chaos parade that is Bully Yates.
And then the thought hits you:
‘I could totally take him. Spiritually, I mean’.
Not physically – God no, I bruise like a peach and believe in non-violence (mostly). But in my mind’s eye? I’ve morphed into a full-blown spiritual warrior. Think ancient Celtic goddess meets courtroom realness meets rural sass. I’m robed in boundaries. Armed with receipts. Glowing with the radiant power of ‘No more of your sh**.’
He comes at me with the usual fog of deflection and half-truths and I just… levitate above it. Or maybe I dropkick him in the solar plexus with a flying boot of justice and ancestral wisdom. Hard to say.
The thing is, something clicked. I realized that I wasn’t just reacting to his nonsense anymore. I was watching it like bad theatre, popcorn in hand, occasionally pausing to check if anyone else saw the same absurdity I did.
I’m not saying the drama stopped. Oh no. The Faurel Hill Follies continue. But the way I carry myself in it has changed. I’m not a target anymore. I’m a spiritual bouncer in the nightclub of my own peace.
So if you’re out there dealing with your own Bully, be it a brother, a cousin or a well-dressed executor who couldn’t spell ‘ethics‘ if you handed him the letters – know this:
You’re allowed to picture yourself rising above it. Or roundhouse-kicking it. Or simply standing there in all your calm, grounded, spiritually-armored glory saying, Nah. Not today’.
Lesson of the Day:
Sometimes the most powerful move isn’t fighting back, it’s standing so rooted in your own peace that chaos trips over itself trying to shake you. Bonus points if you imagine it in slow motion with dramatic music.

Leave a comment