The Fracturing of Men & Women

Warning: This episode contains strong language and adult themes, reflecting my authentic storytelling style.

The world feels heavy, but this podcast doesn’t have to be. I’m keeping it about 60% light today—trust me, given the state of the world, I could've gone a lot darker.

Happy New Year! April 1st is the real reset, when the earth wakes up and the light returns. Pop the champagne or sparkling cider and get grilling. Or just lowkey get takeout.

I get real about possibly dating. The timing overall couldn’t be less ideal—personally or professionally—so I figure… why not lean into the chaos? Reverse‑psychology this whole mess. It could make for some great podcast stories.

Then we dive into the messy truth: the fracturing of men and women from the time they’re born to the time they leave this spiritual realm. I pick up my reality brush and paint that picture in vivid, unfiltered strokes. Spoiler: it’s not pretty. Knowledge is power. Forever and always.

Sidenote: In this episode I said “barbeque” when I meant “grilling.” Why you gotta glitch, brain? Also, I said “blow it out of the water” in reference to something. What the actual f*#k? I’m trying really hard to undo the programming of language that simply doesn’t align with me, and this phrase most definitely doesn’t align. Imperfect. Messy. Good enough. That’s enough. 

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Hi, welcome to Me Time Musines. I'm Jess. Are you ready? Three, two, one, happy new year. It's New Year's today, April 1st. It is not January 1st, like they'd have you believe. I did an episode on this, uh, so you can go and get all the details surrounding it all there. But the real new year starts when the earth wakes up and the light returns, and that is officially today, my friends. So what are you doing? Anything fine? You gonna go out to eat? Or maybe just grab some takeout. If you really want to up level it, you could barbecue. Ugh, it sounds so good. Pop some champagne if you drink, or sparkling cider if you don't. Whatever you do, I hope it's fun and festive. Happy, happy, happy freaking new year. Uh I don't know if you know this, but there are buds on the trees. Spring has officially sprung. And I'm here for it. Every year, without fail, I'll walk by the window and I'm like, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a minute. Do I see green? And lo and behold, I do. And you know what that says? It says, you know what, girl, you made it. You made it through winter to warmer weather. I'm so proud of you. It's all very exciting. Um, my plan this summer is to be without shoes outside often. I want to be one with the grass and earth. I want to get my grounding in. I want to start that grounding journey. And I'm going to double double, if not triple, my hugging of trees. Last year, that I'm gonna blow that out of the water. I'm just gonna I'm just gonna be like every tree. I'm gonna be like, come here, come here, come here. People are going to legit think I'm making out with trees, and you know what? That's fine, do it. Won't stop me. Here's the Dilio. I'm gonna share something with you. I think maybe it's time to put myself out there and start dating. Hmm. That is if the universe doesn't decide to cock block me again. I've been down this road of the yeah, dating, let's do that. Only to be bitch slabbed by source, my guides, my ancestors, my angels, these beautiful beings of light and love, and you know what they said? Nah, girl, you ain't ready. Sit back down. And that brings me to this moment in time right now. I feel like the energy has shifted big time. And dare I say I'm in a new timeline again. I think so. I have timeline whiplash at this point. So while I believe I will be allowed now by my supportive and loving team of divine helpers to get up and get out there, I almost feel like the joke is on me because at this stage, I'm looking for an absolute unicorn who isn't already taken. Being single, that is a non-negotiable. And I'm pretty sure there isn't a dating app for single unicorns unless I'm just ignorant to the tech that's available for dating, which very well could be. Is that so wrong? Like maybe I'm at a museum. Or I don't know, at an orchard picking apples. Or maybe I'm grocery shopping and my bag breaks, and some gorgeous single man comes to help me pick up my items. We look at each other and it's electric. It's a meat cute, and we fall in love, and the rest is history. I don't want to meet someone on my phone through curated pictures and what they want me to know about them. That shit is just ripe for lies, and I don't have time for that. But you know what? The real issue here, the real conundrum, the reason why the joke is on me at this point is how on earth am I going to find a man who is awake, has awareness, is remembering, enlightened, and checks all the other boxes. Here's what I'll tell you. I am not able to have long periods of surface level conversation. I can and I do, however, it hits different. It almost becomes painful. I mean, at some point it's like, yeah, Jarlsberg cheese is delicious and great on sandwiches, but what about chemtrails? Geoengineering, weather manipulation? What about the fake banking system and these parasitic ass clowns that run the world? Do you know about them? Given all that I know about the medical industrial complex, I'd practically have to ask for a health history and full blood workup, especially with all things COVID in the mix. It's polarizing topics galore. And I don't know if you know this, but I'm quickly labeled crazy, conspiracy theorist, stupid, delusional, and I couldn't be farther from any one of those labels. You know, to keep it real, real, as of late, it just feels like this remembering process is taking me farther and farther from community and relationships. I mean, not entirely because there are newer people, women in my life that feel really aligned, but I feel like I am so far down this path, and everything's been so accelerated that it's proving difficult to find people who are in it, you know, the same way. You know, everyone's going at their own pace. There's no way I could have foreseen this. I mean, it just it was like one day I was one way, the next day everything completely shifted, no going back. And it's been going at hyper speed ever since. So, anyways, I just feel like I need to put out a worldwide APB so that we can collectively find exactly what I'm looking for and what I need. You know, help a girl out. I have to believe they exist and that energetically and eventually physically, they are on their way to me right now. That source dropped a pin, my energetic coordinates. I will say this going out on dates has the potential to provide amazing podcast material. I mean the stories. Am I right? You're probably like, yeah, girl, get out there and then report back. Uh yes, maybe. I'm considering. We'll see. But you bet your ass, sure as shit, I'd be bringing back stories. There's no way I couldn't. It's me. I'm a magnet for ridiculousness. Uh so. Okay, all right. Well, you know what? We need to get the fuck into it. The meat and potatoes of the episode. Let's get it, let's go. What I have for you today is not easy to hear. Uh there is a brutality to the picture I'm about to paint today. There isn't going to be one person who doesn't see themselves in this. And what I'm talking about is how dark forces, Satan, the devil, however you want to say it, go about fracturing men and women from the time they're born to the time they leave this spiritual realm. This mimic, synthetic overlay of deception and manipulation. Of course, there could be, and most definitely is, more than what I'll share because it's a nuanced, layered thing, but I would say this is the base, you know, the core of it. So if the devil was talking, giving you the playbook, I think it'd sound like this. And we'll start with men. I would make sure he's born into a system that fears his power before he even knows he has it. From the moment he takes his first breath, I'd begin the quiet war. Not with violence but shame, not with chains, but conditioning. I'd program his parents before he arrives, make sure his father is numb, unavailable or absent. I'd make sure his mother is overwhelmed, unsupported, and carrying wounds from her own father. Now he enters a home where love is unstable, safety is conditional, and emotions are never fully seen. That's his blueprint. Then I'd weaponize school. I'd sit him in a chair for six hours a day and punish him for needing to move, to explore or question. I'd make sure his wildness is labeled disorder. I'd drug his spirit before it grows teeth. I'd make sure no one ever tells him you're not broken, you're just awake. I'd confuse his masculinity early, tell him real men are aggressive, competitive, emotionally shut off, that kindness is weakness. Tell him silence is strength. I'd mock him when he becomes emotionally unavailable and call him toxic when he cracks. Now he's confused, ashamed, and disconnected from his core. I'd fracture his sexuality before he even knows what it is. Introduce porn before connection, pleasure before intimacy, control before vulnerability. Now he learns to chase validation through conquest, not love. He'll have sex without ever being touched. I'd tell him his worth is tied to performance, grades, money, status, muscles, every achievement praised, and every emotion ignored. Now he's addicted to results, terrified of failure and ashamed of softness. But no one sees it because he looks successful. I'd isolate him, make sure he's surrounded by people, but never truly known. Teach him to joke through pain, distract through humor, and lie with confidence. He'll be the strongest in the room and still feel like a fraud. I'd keep him in silent competition with every other man, convince him that brotherhood is weakness, that vulnerability will get him betrayed, that trusting another man will make him pray, and now he stands alone, strong, admired, and completely disconnected. I'd wound his heart and make him hide it. Let his first love break him wide open, then tell him to man up, never speak of it again. Now every woman he loves after is filtered through a wound he was never allowed to name. I'd keep him chasing something he can never reach. The perfect body, the perfect career, the perfect partner, the perfect moment where he finally feels enough, but it never arrives. Because the void wasn't created by lack of achievement, it was created by lack of remembrance. And I'd make sure he dies respected, admired, and unknown. The good man, the provider, the one who never asked for help. He'll leave behind a legacy of strength, but take his truth to the grave. A fracturing, not with trauma but slow erosion, with silence, and with lies dressed as love until he forgets what it ever felt like to be whole. Alright, let's move on to women. First, I'd make her doubt her own body from the very beginning. I'd tell her she's too much or not enough, too loud, too quiet, too big, too small. I'd disconnect her from the rhythm of her womb before she ever bleeds. I'd make her ashamed of her cycle. Teach her that pain is normal, that intuition is drama, and that sensitivity is weakness. I'd divide her from her mother, not always through conflict, sometimes through silence. I'd make sure her mother carries unspoken trauma past through tone and tension, not words. So the daughter grows up decoding emotions instead of expressing them. Now she learns that love means scanning, fixing, and pleasing. I'd glamorize beauty and weaponize comparison. Flood her with images of perfection she'll never reach because I'll keep changing the standard. I'd make her chase external validation while starving her internal knowing. Now she's too busy hating her reflection to notice she was born as art. I'd fracture her friendships early, whisper insecurity into the space between girls, make them compete for attention, affection, and approval. I'd make trust feel dangerous and betrayal feel inevitable. Now she grows into a woman who smiles at other women while bracing for impact. I'd confuse her sexuality before she understands consent. Let her experience attention before safety. Let her feel desired before she feels seen. Make her believe her worth lies in her desirability, but shame her for expressing it. And now she's trapped in a loop. Repress it, express it, regret it, and repeat. I'd make her serve to feel loved, make her a helper and a healer, mothering everyone but herself. Teach her that saying no is selfish, rest is lazy, and that boundaries are rejection. So she gives and gives and gives until she burns out and no one notices. I'd sell her freedom wrapped in mimic feminism. Tell her power means becoming like a man, hustle, harden, achieve, and suppress the very thing that makes her magic. Her softness, her flow, her intuition, her cyclical wisdom. Convince her to cut off her roots in the name of rising. I'd let her taste love and then take it away over and over, so that she starts to believe the problem is her. Now she shape shifts, self abandons, pleases, performs just to be chosen. But even when she's chosen, she won't feel safe, because she never got to be known. I'd silence her rage, tell her to be nice, be agreeable, quiet, so that by the time she realizes what's been done to her, she can't even scream. I'd fill her womb with emotion she was never allowed to express. Generations of grief, guilt, and shame. She'll feel the weight, but not the source. She'll think she's broken, when in truth, she's carrying an entire bloodline of unspoken pain. When she finally starts to wake up, when she begins to remember her power, I'd surround her with spiritual fluff, soft words, safe rituals, surface healing. Let her feel like she's evolving without ever reclaiming her fire. Because if she truly remembered, if she bled without shame, loved without losing herself and roared without apology, she'd tear the entire system down just by existing. And that's what's feared the most. Not her beauty, not her body, but remembrance. I think I think we're there. We've arrived. I'm gonna ground and protect. I stand in light. I speak only truth. I'm untouchable in the name of what is real. Till next time.