Ex-Bestie Who Literally Tried to Single White Female My Life

Grab your favorite beverage—coffee, tea, or maybe a massive glass of wine—because you are going to need it for this one. Welcome back to the blog, y’all. Today, we are diving deep into a chapter of my life so utterly unhinged that if I pitched it to a reality TV network, the producers would hand it back to me and say it was “too unrealistic.”

We all have that one ex-friend who teaches us a harsh lesson about boundaries. But let me tell you about my ex-friend. She didn’t just cross boundaries; she demolished them, set them on fire, and then tried to literally steal my identity in the ashes.

Here is the wild, exhausting, and strangely terrifying story of the friend who was so psychopathic and obsessed with me that she systematically tried to take over my life. And sitting here in the year 2026, I still cannot wrap my head around the wildly sick obsession she has with me.

I should have known things were going to be weird from the jump. This girl—a Black woman who I genuinely thought was going to be my sister from another mister—had the exact same name as my actual sister. Not only that, but she also had the exact same birth month and birth year as my sister. At the time, I thought, “Wow, what a fun coincidence! We are destined to be family.”

The universe wasn’t giving me a cute coincidence; it was flashing a giant, neon red flag.

We were friends for five solid years. And when I say I was a good friend, I mean I was the blueprint. I was there for her through everything. I sat with her through pregnancies, multiple abortions, and heartbreaking miscarriages. I drove from one hospital to another, holding her hand, wiping her tears, and believing every single story and lie she spun. I gave her my last dollar without a second thought. I thought she was my ride-or-die.

But looking back, the most devastating realization is this: I was busy being her friend, while she was busy making me her enemy for absolutely no reason.

She was out to get me from the very start. Even while we were supposedly “best friends,” she was secretly running a smear campaign against me. She tracked down men I used to serve in the military with, messaging them to portray me as this horrible, toxic person. She made herself look like the sweet, believable victim so everyone would turn on me. She even contacted my ex, Reggie, just to try and ruin things between us and make my life miserable. She wanted me to be the villain so badly.

For the longest time, I thought the “official” fallout between us happened because of a guy. I had a very short fling with one of her brothers. Because I respect the girl code, I went to her beforehand and asked if she was okay with it. She looked me in the eye and said, “Oh yeah, totally fine! Go for it!”

Tip for the ladies: When a toxic friend says “it’s fine,” it is a trap. It is a giant bear trap covered in leaves.

I had the fling, and almost immediately, she flipped the script. Suddenly, it was not fine. She used it as her villain origin story to hold against me forever. But honestly? The brother fling was just a convenient excuse to unleash the hatred she already had for me.

Clearly, her revenge plot was to collect my exes like Thanos collecting Infinity Stones. Because getting rid of me wasn’t enough; she needed to step into my shoes.

Her ultimate betrayal happened right under my own roof. I actually caught her sleeping with my husband at the time. In my apartment! I was so furious I had to call the cops just to physically have her removed from my home. And the absolute kicker? To this day, she holds a grudge against me for calling the cops on her! Ma’am, you were in my bed with my husband! What did you want me to do, leave a mint on the pillow and make y’all breakfast?!

Not only did she sleep with that husband, but she also slept with my ex-husband (my daughter’s father), my ex boyfriends and ex military colleague. Then, because the “Tina’s Leftovers” buffet was apparently still open, she moved on to my son’s father. She didn’t just sleep with him—she went ahead and had a whole baby with him.

Before we get to the twisted dynamic with my son’s father, let’s talk about the absolute sheer audacity this girl possessed regarding my survival.

There was a time when things were really tight for me, and I was relying on an EBT card to get by. I had managed to save up about $3,000 worth of food stamps on it to make sure my family was fed. Guess what my “best friend” did? She stole it. She flat-out swiped my EBT card and sold it for cash on the street to make a quick buck. (for 2026: I am now completely off EBT, financially independent, and thriving, so her little heist didn’t break me—but the audacity remains unmatched.)

Let’s talk about my son’s father for a minute, because the dynamic between these two is a psychological thriller.

If this man had a backbone, it would be made of overcooked spaghetti. He is an absolute wimp who lets another female completely control him. He has zero thoughts of his own and goes to her for every single piece of advice. Their entire chemistry is built on a foundation of mutual hatred for me. Every single day, she contacts him just to ask, “Have you spoken to Tina today?” On the rare occasions his single brain cell fires up and he admits he feels like reaching out to fix things, she swoops in and talks him out of it.

She uses him to control my life, and worse, she uses him to control whether or not he has a relationship with his own son. She actually sits there and validates his deadbeat behavior. She tells him that he was right to walk away, that he shouldn’t care about his son, that it’s “best” he doesn’t have a relationship with him, and—get this—that his son “will find him when he grows up.”

She is actively molding him to be just like her: running away from all accountability and responsibility. She explicitly tells him to continue to disrespect me, treat me like trash, and ignore my attempts to co-parent all while he is out there entertaining a bunch of other women with his 7+ kids.

He literally handed over the passwords to his emails and texting apps. She ordered him to block me everywhere, disabled his social media accounts, and dictates that if he must contact me, he has to use weird burner texting apps so she can coach him on what to say.

But here is the absolute most tragic part: She thinks she’s hurting me by keeping him away. But the person her actions are actually affecting in the long term is my son. At the end of the day, when my son grows up, I am not the one he is going to blame. I’m the one who stayed. My son won’t be pointing the finger at me; he will be looking directly at his father. My son’s father is the one who will have to look his own flesh and blood in the eye and explain why he chose a bitter, obsessed ex-friend’s advice over his own child.

If you thought it couldn’t get any crazier, buckle up, because this is where it turns into a true crime documentary.

She eventually moved to Arizona. Keep in mind, I live in California and I have never been to Arizona in my life.

Somehow, she went to a courthouse in Arizona and filed for a restraining order against me. But she didn’t just file the paperwork—she actually got someone to pretend to be me. She got a body double, made a fake ID with my information, and had this person appear in front of a judge as “Tina.” The judge, believing this imposter was me, granted the restraining order!

When I found out, I called the Arizona courts in an absolute panic, explaining that I have never set foot in their state. The court employees literally argued with me, saying, “Ma’am, you appeared in court.” No, I didn’t! A literal fraudster did!

To get this restraining order, she fabricated “proof.” She submitted email exchanges where she had intentionally rage-baited me to get a reaction. But worse than that, she made a terrifying, psychotic collage featuring a picture of a gun next to a picture of my son. She posted threats on my life and my son’s life, writing captions like “I wish a bitch would” and “Ask Tina, she knows.”

She threatened my child’s life, stole my identity, committed perjury, and defrauded a court of law—all because she wants to be me so desperately that it is making her clinically unhinged.

Her obsession doesn’t stop with me; she is even morphing into my son’s father. He likes Mercedes Benz cars? Boom, she goes out and buys a Mercedes. She copies his mannerisms, his habits, his style, bankrupting her own personality to mirror his just to prove her “loyalty.”

Why go through all that effort? Why the fake IDs, the court fraud, the military stalking, and the baby daddies? I don’t get what she wants from me or ever wanted from me.

She wants me to reach out so badly just so she can start drama. Need proof? In January 2025, after years of not speaking, after the EBT theft, the cops, the baby, the smear campaign, and the Arizona identity theft… she sent me a text.

“Hey, just asking how you’re doing. Hoping you’re fine!”

I had to laugh. The audacity is breathtaking. You commit federal identity theft, threaten my son with a gun, and hack my inbox, but you want to casually check in and see how my Tuesday is going? Make it make sense!

For the longest time, my intentions were pure. I wanted a final conversation to find out why she did all of this. But now, in 2026, I’ve realized something incredibly empowering: The block and the silence is the answer. That is the only closure I will ever get, and it’s the only closure I need.

Let the psychopathic puppet master and her spineless puppet have each other in their weird, obsessive, Mercedes-driving bubble. As for me? I’m logging off, living my beautiful, financially thriving, drama-free life, protecting my peace, and making sure my passwords are un-hackable.

Until next time,

Tina

On people crawling out of the woodwork…

Eight’s ex, Juneau, resurfaced a few days ago. They broke up a whole bunch of times, most recently in early 2023 after a series of events beginning with what we now call Kiragate and ending with his polycule splitting in half over him dumping his ex, Leigh, and refusing to pick a side in the months-long conflict between his then-partner Sol and best friend at the time, whom we will call Birch. Juneau took the contingent who had bonded with Leigh and Sol in the divorce, as it were. You can read more about that situation here. We call all of this the Great Schism of 2022-23.

He’s popped up a few times since then, but given Eight’s history with him and the fact that they would break up, get back together, and break up again over the years over a variety of things, he ended up blocked on most everything. He reached out via a comment on our old LiveJournal blog that I had honestly half forgotten about since I mostly post here these days.

He didn’t know whether I was alive or not and he wasn’t sure if I was going to even respond. I responded because the fact that he’s popped back up after all this time made me laugh. He also added me on Snapchat. I despise that app, so I ended up giving him my number.

I asked Hawthorne if he’d also reached out to them, and weirdly enough, he had.

I’m wondering what the fuck he wants…

-Allēna

Hey, everyone. This is your ever faithful guide, Lazarus, once more. I was looking through my Facebook memories from last year and Jesus Christ… the system was not okay. I believe they were nearly blackout drunk most of the time to cope with the chaos around them, stoned to fuck, or both, and were entering the thick of the recording process of our fifteenth album, Hardshell. That album was a fucking doozy.

I still have no idea what inspired a good half of those lyrics, one of the songs on the album appears to have predicted someone’s death, and the entire damn record plays like some cursed swamp blues thing where two of my former headmates that later integrated into me tried to out-blues each other the whole way down. In short, around this time last year was not fucking fun for anyone. I can’t say I’m having the best time right now, but I’m more or less rolling with the damned punches and figuring shit out and I can’t really say I’m suffering.

I want to make an important distinction here. When I say “I’m not suffering”, I don’t mean “I’m not in pain” or “shit doesn’t suck and it’s all sunshine and rainbows over here.” I’m still hurting and there’s a lot that’s still objectively bad. However, there’s still a difference between pain and suffering as I understand it as a practicing Stoic.

My ex best friend was a practicing Buddhist and we had a conversation in 2021 that changed my brain chemistry around pain and suffering. He explained it this way: “Pain is when you are hit with an arrow. The arrow can be anything that hurts you, a breakup, debt, your car breaks down, what have you. Suffering is when you shoot yourself with another arrow by resisting the existing pain in your mind by saying ‘oh woe is me, why is this happening to me, this shouldn’t be happening to me’, etc. rather than accepting with the first arrow as it is and treating the pain.”

I had a conversation with my wonderfully cranky and sarcastic therapist a few weeks ago that made me realize that I was fucking suffering rather than just dealing with the pain. I have been seeing him for three years because he is phenomenal at getting me to sit the fuck down and see some goddamn sense when I’m freaking the fuck out and well, suffering, and that was one of Those Sessions. We have a LOT of Those Sessions, and I rely on him heavily for that sort of biting, humbling realism and practical, applicable advice that makes my life far better.

This conversation was about, in essence, radical acceptance, a portion of dialectical behavioral therapy that I finally fucking understood in 2021 after I was pressganged into going into group therapy by Hera and her family after they found out I was suicidal. I did objectively want to get better and get better skills to help me improve my life, I just despised the circumstances in which I had gotten there because they weren’t of my own choosing, so I approached group with an open mind.

This group changed my life, especially the portion about radical acceptance, and eventually led me to my interest in Stoicism and ultimately led me to practice it. Radical acceptance as I understand it holds that other people and often large portions of situations are outside of your control or even your influence. All you can do is choose how you are going to respond to them. It doesn’t mean that you have to go along with everything, it just means you release the need to control everything and instead find ways to protect your peace and master yourself.

We got to talking about this because I was bitching about Emerson being further behind in his inner work than I was, and my therapist cut me off and told me that I should start to instead focus on meeting him where he was and choosing how I was going to respond to him rather than bemoaning the fact that he was so damn far behind and attempting to maintain control of every tiny detail of every situation. He cited radical acceptance as part of this conversation and I desperately needed that reminder.

This got my ass back in gear and I had a big old “remember your training” moment and started working on letting a lot of shit go that was outside of my control and getting back more into the Stoic mindset of “the only thing I can truly control is myself and how I respond to things and people”. This has helped me suffer a lot less. Cue the cinematic hero theme music, I suppose. Sometimes, like all people, I need to be told to sit the fuck down by the people I trust, and this was no exception. I struggle a lot with letting shit go, especially if I hate the aforementioned shit, so this has been a very useful exercise. I’ve missed this. I’m doing a lot better and I’m honestly proud of myself for getting this far.

Well, y’all, I have the remainder of a lunch to demolish, so I’d best wander off. Stay tuned for more magic! Enjoy your day, night, what have you.

-Lazarus

https://opensorceryy.co/would-you-still-be-here-suffering/

#Buddhism #chronicIllness #cptsd #dialecticalBehavioralTherapy #Emerson #exBestFriend #groupTherapy #healing #Hera #introspection #lettingGo #meditation #meetingPeopleWhereTheyAre #myBitinglySarcasticTherapist #onSuffering #pain #postTraumaticGrowth #ptsd #stoicism #suffering #thingsIWasPressgangedInto #vitaminB100Experiment

Hey, everyone! This is Ellie. I hope you all are having a great night. I found this great post on Threads about how people can betray you and drop you when you become disabled. However, I feel the post stands pretty well on its own, so I don’t want to give my two cents on the post directly. Instead, I want to talk about the concept of self betrayal within the context of disability and how important firing ourselves from time to time is and that we live slowly and let others handle things.

So What Even Is “Firing Yourself”? How And When Do You All Do It?

My fellow super-admin, Eight, first heard the term “firing yourself” from his former best friend who’d heard it from a mentor of his. Essentially, firing yourself is when you recognize you need to step back from a project for whatever reason and turn it over to someone else who’s in a better position to take it on. You can fire yourself for any number of reasons – you’re sick, you’re in pain, you’re tired, you’ve got too many things on your plate, you simply need a vacation, you may know someone more qualified and less busy than you. It takes a great deal of self awareness, yet it’s essential for avoiding burnout and can help you build deeper connections with the people you love by achieving something together rather than carrying it all on your own. Their perspective can help make projects richer and get them completed much faster than if you’d done it on your own.

Firing Ourselves From Hyperindependence

Now, we are tragically hyper independent. We actively enjoy doing as much as we can on our own and enjoy staying busy and juggling as much as we can. We call the dopamine hit we get from completing a challenging, complicated project “work emotion”. However, we are very disabled in a number of areas, and have a tendency to push the body and mind far too hard in the pursuit of achieving our goals on our own. We also tend to not ask for help until we are absolutely certain we will not be able to complete what needs to get done in time on our own or if we’ve found ourselves in such a goddamned pickle we’ll never get out of it on our own. This got better after we learned about the concept of firing ourselves, but it is still a struggle.

Our Non-Negotiable Boundaries With Ourselves

That being said, we reliably fire ourselves from a few things. If we are tired enough that a few puffs of nicotine or a bit of caffeine won’t perk us up, it’s bedtime, do not pass go. Unless someone is dying or there is some other emergency, we are firing ourselves from consciousness until the body feels replenished. If there’s a task that needs to be done immediately, we ask for help, secure a willing party to take care of it, and then pass out.

Second, if whomever is in front feels like they will scream at the next person who speaks to or messages them, the system is out of social energy and needs to fire themself from socializing and be alone for a bit until they want to socialize again. Hell, I fired myself from social time with Emerson to write this post and chill out a bit because while I love him, I needed some space to get my thoughts together and catch up on some work. We’ve spent most of the day together and even did some great brainstorming for future collaborative projects! By gently firing ourselves from social time when we need it, we are giving him the space to learn how to define himself as an individual within our marriage and work on his own brilliant endeavors, something he’s never learned how to do.

Third, if the body is in pain, we are firing ourselves from whatever we are doing that is causing the pain, relieving the pain, and taking a break. We don’t push ourselves physically to the point of physical pain or injury unless it it absolutely necessary, like fucking life and death.

Fourth and finally, if someone is better equipped than we are to handle something than we are in that moment, we fire ourselves from that project and give it to them if they’re willing to handle it. For example, Emerson does most of the cooking for the both of us. We can cook and cook really damn well, it simply takes everything out of us to do. Emerson loves to cook, and it energizes him to cook for the people he loves. So he handles the lion’s share of the cooking and meal planning here.

These are hard boundaries we have with ourselves, and everyone who knows us knows they cross them at their peril. We communicate all of them with everyone we talk to regularly. These boundaries come after two decades and then some of repeated self betrayal and attempts to ignore our disabilities and exist to prevent further harm and self sabotage from ever happening again. Viewing the above as non negotiables have massively improved our quality of life.

It’s Taken Years Of Practice To Make Firing Ourselves Look This Easy

What we’re doing may look easy to an observer, but it kills us inside to fire ourselves and involve other people in anything we do. It’s taken a lot of healing to even ask Emerson for help with fuckall! It’s absolutely a practice and you can bet your ass it’s taken years and a fuckload of self awareness. We have to face years of internalized shame, guilt, and terror daily to do this.

So if you’re disabled like us and are learning how to take it easy, fire yourself, and set boundaries, and you’re fucking terrified, please rest assured that you’re not alone. Your friends and partner(s) who genuinely care about you want to help, and they don’t think you’re a burden for asking for support and reassurances. A burden is something a person takes on unwillingly. Your people chose you. Therefore, you are not a burden to your people. And let me let you in on a little secret from psychology: asking for help actually helps people feel closer to you rather than pushing them away. So mind your boundaries, but keep working toward firing yourself and letting your people in! We’ll do the same.

Much love, and as always, stay tuned for more magic!

Your faithful super-admin, Ellie

https://opensorceryy.co/firing-ourselves/

#askingForHelp #boundaries #chronicFatigue #Emerson #exBestFriend #firingOurselves #hyperIndependence #socializingAsADisabledPerson