Love Is Wild……

What is love, really? And how do you know if you’re on the right track, if you are loving someone enough, or …in a way that tells them they are loved?

Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love does not anger,
nor does it boast.

This is what we find in our bibles, and make no mistake-God meant what he said, but how many of us can rise to that place? For me? Love is compassion. Love is validation. Love may take it up a notch or two-as lovers are passionate, and the frenzy can make us crazy. My husband and I still rant and rave, but at the end of the day? Love, somehow prevails. I remember not so long ago the days of begging him to love me, and now the tables have turned-love doesn’t hold anything over your head, and if you wax and wane poetic, but have no understanding or compassion, what does it amount to? Dust. Dust in the wind.

True love allows the other person breathing space. It listens, nods its’ head in sorrow, puts you in the shoes of the lovee.

Don’t you speak over my words. My reality is hard won, and I won’t trade my newfound jewels for stones-not today, not ever~

I Don’t Really Got It Like That……

For as long as I can remember? I have struggled with making money. While among those in the work force, I never made more than $250 a week. My Income Tax Return was almost always $250. Early on I surmised that God did not think it necessary for me to be a CEO, stock market analyst or-heaven forbid-a successful comedian. He knew that I was so grateful for the basics-food, a roof over my head, a loving husband and loyal dog. That’s pretty much it. Anything I made went to groceries, and when I had a chunk of moolah saved? It always went to something necessary-like buying my man a vehicle to get from here to there. They were always used Chevy pick-ups, and we held our breath each year at inspection time.

No, I have never been a material girl. From a very young age I fought hard to exist, so caught up in the struggle to survive-little things have always, always meant the world to me…and it is true to this very day. God provides for our needs, no matter how simple or complicated they are. I thought I needed my family to be happy, and realizing that the need for Jesus trumps the need to be loved? Life affirming.

Now the tears start rolling. I spent my first Christmas without any interaction (with the exception of my brother) with family. I actually went shopping for my nieces, to Kohl’s. It was there that I cried in the dressing room as I realized they were no longer mine to buy for-it hit me hard, the isolation.

So, for now, in this moment? I will cherish what I do have. My self esteem. My sense of humor. My handsome husband and a dog so loyal it hurts my heart to imagine a life without him. These days my husband drives a brand new Chevy truck, and we don’t worry about the bills or groceries because our income is sufficient. It’s time to start paying it forward.

I will treasure the memories of harder times, as it was then that the miracle of His amazing grace was ever present~

Rally Round the Family…

Life goes along at warp speed until something stops you dead in your tracks: As was the case Sunday morning, after a full weekend of loving and socializing, the enemy came to take his due-you don’t think he isn’t out there trying to devour everything good in your life? Au contraire, mon amies! But here’s the good news-call out to Jesus, and you are free. He can’t hurt you if you are covered in the full armor of God.

But what about those times when evil does strike? Well, Abba will protect you in ways you couldn’t imagine, and that’s why I’m alive and writing this blog-my Lord and Savior sent His angels, and they protected me from a massive head injury and internal bleeding.

Just out of Dwain’s truck, exhausted from a weekend of frivolity, I could barely pick up my feet. I had promised my husband that I would pick up the myriad of dog toys that lay around our yard, at the whim of my golden retriever, who thinks he has to entertain the grasshoppers and blue jays with his cacophony of babies. It’s so sweet, until it isn’t.

I had my purse in one hand, my drink in the other, AND I was carrying six, that’s SIX dog toys to boot. We have concrete stairs, no railing, and the stairs are ridiculously dangerous. It did not escape my mind, while sitting in the ER, that I had traipsed up and down said steps while drunk, high on cocaine, and worse. Never once even tripped. But yesterday was different. My boots caught on Jesse’s blue elephant, and down I went. I had no hands to put out, and I landed on my noggin.

I immediately called for Dwain, who could hear me, but couldn’t find me. Pain so severe I thought I would vomit, I remained perfectly still until my husband arrived on the scene. I am an EMT, and a CNA-I have volunteered in the Emergency Room, with hospice and prison ministries-I have seen it all and maintained my composure. This is the precise reason I am prone to freaking out when I get hurt-I simply know too much.

Head injury? I was out of my mind hysterical. It didn’t help when my husband picked up my head and his eyes bulged out of his-

“My GOD, is it THAT bad?,” I wail. He didn’t answer, he was too busy putting my ample white behind in his truck, grabbing ice and driving like a bat out of hell, towards the ER I had recently walked out of-after calling out the employees no less. As I walked in, I immediately placed my eyes on Dawn, who calmed me as she directed me towards the door. I knew where to go all right. I just didn’t know if they would help me, or hurt me. They had so much power at that moment.

A friend of mine, Katie, was the charge nurse, praise God. She gave me a hug and an ice pack, told me the doctor would soon be in. As Dwain sat on the bed, this came over the PA System:

ATTENTION: SEPSIS ALERT IN THE ER. SEPSIS ALERT IN THE ER.

“Fabulous,” I murmured. And then it hit me, we were the only people there, aside from an 83 year old man with a dizzy spell. What the Harry???? They were talking about me for crying out loud! I couldn’t figure this out as the knot on my head was the size of a peach, but the wound wasn’t bad, it bled very little.

Dr. Ammons didn’t waste any time checking me over. I was told it would hurt like hell for a few days, but that I was extremely fortunate as if I had hit one inch below, I could have had serious eye trauma. If my cranium had hit a few inches lower? I could have knocked out my front teeth. But I knew about head trauma, and I was frightened. I kept what I knew to myself, forgetting that my man is a first responder.

And so it was, that I woke this morning with a shiner the size of Texas, and a headache to beat the band.

And because of His love? I’ll be strutting my stuff, sooner than you can say the words accident prone.

She Killed it With Kisses…

 

My cup runneth over…it is well with my soul-even after the email I just received from a member of my family.   Are you SURE you don’t have BPD???????

Jesus Mighty, Mary and Joseph.  When will this end?  When do I get to stop apologizing for breathing?  For being a modest success and overcoming alcoholism and addiction to opioids?  I am no longer the black sheep, but I am sure as Hell the Scapegoat-and that shit is over, whether or not the narc “approves.”  My poor brother is worried.  He thinks my anorexia led to Borderline Personality Disorder.  Stop the madness, step off and WHAT THE HELL YOU TALKING ABOUT, WILLIS?

I know.  It’s a holiday weekend!  We must ensure she not enjoy it, maybe terrorize her with a new diagnoses?  Yeah, that sounds good.  Not that he knows what he’s doing, but I can tell him what he’s doing wrong, and that would be talking to our sister.  He is concerned about my anger during his last trip to my home, in which he stated, flat out:

“I don’t believe you.”  Courtney, you can wipe that demonic smirk off of your face.  Are you proud of the person you have become?  Are you right with Jesus?  Why have you deemed therapy a no-no?  Why did you call me two years ago and beg me not to go no contact?  Why did you admit to keeping the children from me?  Why did you admit keeping me from family vacations?  Why do you care?

I can answer every one of the questions, but rather than do that, I will stop reading emails, taking phone calls and feeling guilty because my kin is a psychopath.

I have earned this time of relative happiness.  My husband has been through enough.

Consider this your CEASE AND DESIST.

Your opinion doesn’t matter.

Nothing you say is true.

Deep down inside?  You are a coward of epic proportions.

Step off.

You have been served.

 

 

Miss Maya and the Missing Link

One of my favorite felines, Maya Angelou, has come so incredibly far in her quest to find herself. I am a firm believer in the notion that animals have souls, and like Angelou she is a fearsome lioness, a freedom fighter-a survivor.

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Born 8 years ago, the last of my longhairs (I kept the entire litter, four cats in all)she was petrified of her own shadow. The runt of the litter, she was always last to get nursed, last to be bathed, pushed aside like so much dander. She immediately found a hidey hole, up in the rafters of our bedroom. Incredibly tiny, I often feared she would fade away. It was because of her frailty that I put off having her fixed- rather than take her to the Humane Society clinic for thirty five dollars, as I did with each and every other cat before-I had her spayed by our family vet, who charged me over four hundred. I know. I know. This made my husband cringe and carry on-one of the reasons Maya hides to begin with. Dwain has a strong and deep voice-he frightens all of our cats; yet Maya would run upstairs and jump to her happy place-not to be seen for days.

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We have cared for a myriad of cats over the years. Living out in the country, desperate people have done desperate things, like drop their cats and kittens off at a stranger’s home: but I look at it this way-they were meant to be with me. I have my favorites (current cat population:17)and thirteen of them live outside. They have a really groovy pad under the giant pine out back, and a covered cat home beneath our deck. We feed them, nurse and vaccinate each and every cat, thanks to the generosity and passion of Nobody’s Cat Foundation. They neutered/spayed fifteen cats, giving them vaccinations as well, at no cost to myself. I will be sending them something at Christmas, for as long as they are up and running.

She doesn’t hide any longer. She lives in our bedroom, proud and precious, content in the world she has created. She likes her pillows just so and her catnip must be placed to the right of her toy mouse. I feed her can food once a day, and as long as her needs are met? She purrs at warp volume, she kills me with kitty kisses and blinks her undying affection.12311171_932332183509072_157103928902352993_n

Fresh out of the shower, and feeling a bit more positive, I played with Miss Thang in her sun spot. She has put on weight, and her coat is like mink. And then it all came together in this supernatural way. I could see it in her cat eyes, the strength, courage and love-emanating from a cat who was at one time so depressed she pulled her hair out, in clumps.

WE HAVE BOTH WON OUR BATTLE OVER VICTIMHOOD. WE ARE SURVIVORS. WE ARE LOVED UNCONDITIONALLY BY A GOD WHO SENT HIS ONLY SON TO PAY FOR OUR SINS, SO THAT WE MAY SPEND ETERNITY WITH OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST.

Me and Maya?

We got it licked.

Instant Karma

 

I don’t know about you, but I am sick to death of gloom and doom, evil that cuts you off at your knees, leaves you shaken, breathless.  The enemy is losing, in leaps and bounds, but the news, the mainstream?  They want you frightened and feeling vulnerable, to be honest, at times I don’t know what to believe, but I do believe in QAnon, and let’s just say the concentration seems to be about the blood lines, the Illuminati and their puppets-satanic symbolism and transference runs RAMPANT in every mode of entertainment to be had, the news is enough to make me cry, and never, ever stop.  But I need to stop investigating and start living.  I know more than I should, and by that I mean I wish I knew nothing at all-but then I wouldn’t be me, and I have felt spiritually led through the entire process.

I had a good week, socially.  Lunch with a friend two days in a row!   I actually made my commitments over the last few days, and it feels so, so good.  I also, after 40 years, began eating a small meal at lunch.  I had a hard time pulling it off as of late, I was having dizzy spells and acid gut.  Please………….I deserve it.

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This cracked me up this morning. Enough so that I actually posted on social media! 🙂

Speaking of deserving……how in the harry do these people sleep at night?  Do they hang upside down from trees, waiting for some unsuspecting dope to come along?  Do they NOT KNOW where they are going at the end of the day?   Seriously, what is their thought pattern?  They are blatantly throwing it up in our faces, but know this: they are running scared.  President Trump, with the aid of the United States military, has put a few of their Cabal buddies in GITMO.  Do they not see a common thread?  What did they THINK would happen when Trump began to wage a war, drain the swamp, look at evil so bleak that a group of NYC policemen vomited and wept when looking at evidence.  I hear they are all still receiving therapy.

So, karma is real, man.  I wouldn’t want to be a thug/pedophile/Satanist right now, because the tables are turning.  I am heartbroken and angry, but life is for the living and I have a heavenly father who wants me to thrive, to be genuinely content and at times, euphoric.  I try to have a sense of humor about these happenings, and I find great fun to be had looking into the Q Memes.

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The only, yet most important thing we can do right now is pray.  Pray like your lives depend upon it, He is listening, this I know.  Instant Karma’s gonna get you Bitches, it’s going to knock you right. in. the. face.

 

 

He’s Just a Shout Away….

 

After a three day weekend of sitting on my hind end, I bust out of the gate in record time this morning!  I stopped drinking the joe, you know-my anxiety, and I have three words people, three words.  

My effing head.

Holy headache Batman!  Momma never told me there’d be days like this; but then again, she drank a pot a day…I remember well the mornings she would rise before the crack of dawn; to make our lunches and breakfast from scratch.  As an anorexic, I was beyond privileged to have homemade salads and gourmet cheese for lunch.  And French dressing, please.  The girls at my lunch table (the crew team from Upper Merion, my Alma Mater) envied me so much they started to bring salads themselves.  My arch nemesis, Kathy Quarto (sweet Jesus she was so competitive with me, until I finally got good and angry…and beat her ass at our annual one mile run) copied each and everything I did, because she saw how thin I was and I suppose she wanted to slim down.  I is who I is, and didn’t like her constant nearness, watching every move I made.

I remember the day well.  Beautiful, sunny Fall day.  I was on the Varsity Crew team for various reasons:  my brother was and I followed him everywhere.  Hmm.  Perhaps that was Karma for treating Kathy so impatiently, ’cause I know for a fact he hated the shadowing.  Craig was a member of the UM Varsity Four, which took first place (I was their coxswain) so often we were invited to Belgium for Finals.  I didn’t go, as I was embroiled in a bad case of anorexia/bulimia.  But back to the race…

Kathy had beat me at, well, everything.  But this day would be different, and I’m pretty sure I shocked the shit right out of the girl when I beat her by 18 seconds.  Of course I peed my pants in doing so, the team was cheering me on as I ran straight past the finish line and into the locker room.  I believe my brother carried me to the car that day…I won, but I broke myself.  🙂

What made the difference on this day of days?

I prayed.

Father God, this chic is a pain in my apple!!!  I can’t shake her, so please let me, just once, beat her ass into oblivion.

She didn’t speak to me for months.

Got trouble?

He’s just a shout away…