From the Core of My Being: The Unmovable and Immutable Truth.

This blog won't be a haven of kindness. It won't be sweet, gentle, or diplomatic. It won't be gentle. And I won't repeat myself endlessly in future posts, so let this stand as the unshakeable foundation:

I HATE, Jeffrey Barton Irish.

From the deepest center of my being, from the marrow in my bones, from the sacred wound of my soul—I hate him. This isn't mere anger. It's something greater than hate—a sharp, clean absence of anything redemptive. I've never known this kind of hatred in my life before. It's a void where no compassion, no mercy, no hope for reconciliation exists. The love I once held for him was snuffed out with the same cruel elegance as John Wayne Gacy extinguished the lives of his victims: calculated, heartless, and masked by performance.

We're taught that forgiveness is noble, even divine. I wrestled with that. But true forgiveness demands repentance, accountability, clarity, and truth. Jeffrey gave none of those things.

Instead, he left me in a fog of bewilderment, deliberate silence, and emotional disfigurement. At every crossroad where he could have illuminated truth, he chose to deepen the shadow. He withheld answers, distorted reality, and left me in the dark about things no one should ever be left uncertain about—especially not by someone who claimed to love them.

He could have clarified the intentions behind his actions. He could have owned the harm he caused. Instead, he left me grappling with unknowns—about my own life, about the reality of our shared history, about the motives driving his betrayal. Those voids aren't just emotional gaps; they're the root of ongoing catastrophe. Every step I've taken forward, based on the fragmented "truths" he left me, has been built on illusion. And every collapse that followed has cost me everything: emotionally, spiritually, financially, existentially.

There will be those who call this bitter. I say it is justified.

This post isn't a plea for healing. It is a declaration of clarity. I don't forgive him. Not for the transgressions, the cruelty, or the alleged intentional harm. The opportunity for forgiveness with compassion is gone. I reserve forgiveness only for myself—for being so foolish as to believe a single lie that spilled from his mouth. I've never wished for someone's nonexistence, but I can't think of his name and summon a kind, compassionate, or caring thought. His mother, frankly, should have swallowed that time.

This is the one and only time I'll name my hatred with such precision. In future posts, I won't sugarcoat or hide it, but I won't belabor it either. Let it be clear: there is no love left in me for him.

What Follows Is Documentation

This blog will host a series of posts that lay out—chronologically and with verifiable detail—the events that transpired between us. Some will detail what is known and proven. But what matters most are the voids: the blank spaces, the intentional silences, the truths that were never explained, clarified, or owned.

These voids are the problem. They aren't mere gaps in understanding—they are the foundation of my unraveling. For the past year, I've searched not for elusive emotional closure but for hardcore facts: actual events, intentions, and situations that were deliberately denied to me. I've identified five or six possible scenarios, each verifiable within the context of what little information I have. But without the full truth, I'm left building my life on illusions, only to face collapse after collapse.

The Ultimate Goal of This Blog

This blog exists for one purpose: Proof.

Not vengeance. Not reunification—Jeffrey can die in a ditch, and I need not be informed. It is proof.

I seek to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Jeffrey Irish intended and deliberately sought to carry out an act of betrayal and harm against me. That he acted with malice, with premeditation, with calculated disregard for my well-being, my health, and my security. That he chose the path of cruelty for his own gain, at my expense.

If I can prove this definitively, it constitutes true adultery—not just in the legal sense but in the spiritual one. It nullifies the eternal covenant of our marriage in truth, not just in law.

But here's the critical distinction: If he was simply immature or confused, the covenant stands. If he was manipulated or coerced, the covenant stands. But if he chose betrayal—if he crafted harm, sought destruction, and acted with intent—that is spiritual adultery in its truest form.

That is what I intend to prove.

The Truth About Jeffrey's "Actualization"

Let's be brutally clear about Jeffrey's so-called "progress." The endless, empty applause for his "sobriety" and his "new life" is a sickening charade. Jeffrey would not be sober if I didn't call the police. He wouldn't be with his new husband if I didn't call the police. He wouldn't be this "pillar of sobriety" had I not called the police. He wouldn't be in counseling, treatment, or accessing services had I not called the fucking police. Jeffrey wouldn't be sober if he wasn't under restraint from the court!

I did that!

I'm sick and tired of everyone acting like Jeffrey has climbed some mountain to find himself. No. I threw him into a cauldron and turned it on high; he was given no choice. So stop acting like he has taken some great step forward into self-actualization. Though he may have walked forward into some semblance of actualization, he didn't do that because his own soul, spirit, or mind called him to do so. He did that because I loved him so much and wanted him healthy and safe that I did that to him.

So let's be abundantly clear: everything he is right now, everything he has right now, is because I called the police and had him arrested!

The Illusion of His "Success"

And let's address the grand excursions, the trips to California, the "excursions," and the talk of a new life with a "groomed" child. While some of that money might be from his own earnings—because, yes, Jeffrey has always been a hard worker when it suits him best—the vast majority of his supposed success is built on the financial reliance of his family, and likely his new husband.

One thing Jeffrey is exceptionally skilled at, quite masterful at, is moving forward in life on the backs of others, making it look so effortless. He possesses an uncanny ability to glide in and out of people's lives, to take what he wants and needs, and then, when they dry up, or put a boundary on him, or God forbid he actually has to be a team player—he bolts back to a safety net of some sort. I have fourteen years that prove this.

So don't pretend like Jeff left and suddenly had all this money from his hard work and all these self-made successes. Because if he did have that money, then he stole it from the Irish cleaning company, and we may be able to prove that. No, his life has been padded by his mother's money from his dead father, the life force of his father, not his own hands, sweat, or blood. It's from his mother's labor at WinCo, his family, and probably his husband's.

So, while it looks like he has excelled, grown, and blossomed, remember that he had to do none of the work himself; everything has been handed to him like a spoiled child on Christmas, and he will treat it as such in the end.

Me, on the other hand? He left me with a dying company. He left me in an abysmal state, and when I reached out and simply said, "Hey, I need your help here," he gave me the bird. Because all of his needs were taken care of, and he didn't give a shit what happened to me. And we will prove that in this blog.

So stop thinking that this fucking c*nt-guzzling sewer rat did any of that on his own! It is from his dad's dead carcass and the money offered up. It is from his mother's labor at WinCo, his family, and probably his husband's. It's easy to shine and look like things are going well when you are put into a playpen and given all the gifts and toys and presents you want as a toddler to keep you happy. It's definitely easy to be a good, glowing person then, not so easy when you're tossed into a sewer. But let's see what happens when he walks out of that safety net, because that is coming in a year.

The Unforgivable Betrayal: My Story, Weaponized

You need to understand the depths of his deception. The fables and misdirection he implemented, both with family, those closest to him, and others, were a calculated weapon. As we were able to determine with counselors, psychiatrists, law enforcement, and others, Jeffrey basically told them my story to gain sympathy, understanding, and help from his "golden ticket wielding" companions. Everything he relayed to others who weren't directly involved was my story—the things that were taking place to me, on me, against me, the "crazy," all of it. He swapped our positions in reality, and again, I can prove this beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I could pursue a civil case in federal court, but I don't have the money to pay for an attorney, and the legal system offers no help when you try to get answers and the truth for yourself. And that's all I want.

In this blog, you will find out why there are certain ways I do certain things in the unfolding of this narrative. You are going to learn things—dark, horrible things that I have never fully shared. You are going to find out why I avoid turning people in to police officers and the courts when it comes to sexual assault and other issues. You're going to see how that very vulnerability was used against me. This will be completely unfiltered.

This won't just be the bearing of my soul, but I'm going to take you through all the things I have lived through, all the things that have shaped me, and how the one person closest to me in all the world may have used all of it to try to destroy me, cause me further harm, and continue cycles of abuse from my past.

To All Who Contributed: No Forgiveness

And to any and all associated with this in any way, shape, or form who may have misled me, deceived me, or withheld information—with good or ill intent, but in any way actively contributed to the hell that has been inflicted upon me: the same goes for you. I hate you, and I will never forgive you. If I have cut you out of my life already, you will remain that way for the rest of my life. This is not a threat; it is not a promise. It is the solidifying of the wall between us. This new version of me has no compassion for those who break through these boundaries. I will not be forgiving. I will retaliate with full force and with extreme measures if you do not respect the boundary I have laid.

Divine Justice: The Unforgivable Sin

And if at the end of this we reach the point I think we're going to, then I will stand in justice. I don't care about human justice, but I'll stand in divine justice. Because in all faith traditions, in all sacred texts, this much is very, very clear: true adultery isn't just having sex with someone. It's the willful act of disregard, malicious and premeditated harm for self-gain at the cost of another. It is the equivalent of the unforgivable sin in the eyes of the divine.

Because in that act of adultery, you try to snuff out the very light of God in another being. For Christians, this is called blasphemy of the spirit or mocking of the spirit. If, at the end of this, it stands firm, rested well on a cornerstone solid, I will stand very tall and bright. Because I know that the divine will seek justice, and the divine is unrelenting in these matters. There is only one unforgivable sin in all of faith: to deny the light of the divine in another human or being, or trying to snuff it out, or disregard it as nothing.

That alone is worth more than any human court could ever give me.

The Altar of Truth

This blog is now the altar where that truth will be laid bare.

Not for him. Not for closure. But for me—to stand fully in reality, with the weight of truth in my hands and no illusions left.

This is your warning and your invitation.

If you read on, understand: what comes next will be difficult, complex, brutal, and fully unfiltered. But it will also be true.

And for once, I will be the one to define the reality of what happened.

Welcome to the unraveling.

-The betrayed,

 Dusty Ray Luxferian 

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