Let’s just say that I began my day with a bang and I don’t mean fireworks or half sticks. Every Saturday, my husband takes me to a cozy little restaurant in a historical building, where we know every waitress and some are like family. I bake them cookies, tell them I love them and they, in turn, think I’m funny. One of my closest friends works here on the weekends, as she teaches full time weekdays. It warms my heart to see her precious face, and we laugh our fool heads off.
What was not lovely was the way in which I entered the building this morning. Inching my way across the snow covered parking lot (I fall so much that I have begun to do the “drop and roll,” not unlike the stunt men and women you see on television) my husband pulling me in protest.
Of course and despite the bad weather, the restaurant is packed. As I stepped into the waiting room full of sleepy customers, I instinctively knew I was headed for the floor. I didn’t know why I was headed in that direction, but I remember saying these words to myself:
Tuck and roll, Michele.
And that is exactly what I did. As I hit the slate floor I felt my rib crack, but that pain was overcome by the humiliation I felt as every waitress, busboy and hostess ran in circles screaming OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?
For some lame reason, the words that unwillingly came out of my orifice were-
It’s okay! I’m an EMT!
In my distress I had somehow remembered the words I blurt out when someone other than myself takes a fall. I had to L O L seeing the chaos ensue. Two hostesses actually clanked heads on their way to check on me! I’ve never seen safety cones pulled out so fast in my life.
“They think you’re going to sue them,” my husband helpfully interjects.
And so it was, as we paid our bill, that an entire restaurant of people watched as we walked out the door. That’s what people do these days. They watch the village idiots~
Please proceed with caution. I am triggered and that means there’s a good chance you may be too, so…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I was wondering when the dam would break. Just yesterday I was marveling at the fact that I am not, in fact, in a mental institution after the stress of the past two years. I say this entirely serious-as a heart attack. If I had known what lay ahead? Let’s just say it’s amazing what Jesus can do for one’s health. Amen!
I have always cared, a bit too much, for people who don’t give a flying fig about me. It’s my nature to love, and in fact, I find it close to impossible to say anything that would hurt someone else’s feelings. I cannot stand for bullies, and I just can’t stomach malice. There is an exception to every rule, and today has been coming for a very long time.
I have always had a cause or two, animals, battered or abused women and children, banning Sharia Law from this country…LGBT rights. When it came to the real news? I had not a clue, as I was busy living my life self centeredly; it’s what addicts do best.
Here’s the thing. I woke up in 2015, when working for a client who listened to Rush Limbaugh at volume ear bleed on his Bose. Religiously. I was a Democrat at the time and a feisty one at that. As the days and weeks went by, I learned horrifying details of what Barry Santero and Michael Richards were doing. I would yell out loud, and ask John, an 85 year old Italian, who had an opinion, about everything, what in the Harry Belafonte was GOING ON?
“This can’t be, they’re ruining the country.”
“I think he’s the antichrist.”
“Yep, it’s deliberate. He’s a muslim.”
I conservatized my butt then and there, on the spot.
“Why do you hate that guy?”
I didn’t want to step on any toes, but I began trying to get the word out to my friends and family.
My situation changed, and I could no longer work due to my PTSD. Praise God we won my disability case, as to this day I can’t commit to a haircut, let alone job. The Lyme disease reared its putrid head around this time-I had long days of resting, and I took to the Truther ropes with relative ease.
At first it was Alex Jones, who ended up being a bad actor. To this day I am unsure of the real truth about some of his theories-he is paid disinformation, don’t forget. I slowly found my way, with Jesus’ steadfast love and encouragement. What I learned I can’t unlearn. And yes, there are days when I wish I could-my life is now pre and post red pill. I get teary watching certain shows, dreamily thinking of the days when we took life at face value. When women weren’t men, and presidents didn’t cause race wars, or fund the terrorist militias, or murder innocent children.
That absurd bill for hotdogs that you and I paid for? It was code. Code for prepubescent boys. And yes, Pedogate is real-as real as it gets. Did I want this information? NO!!!! Yet the combination of my dread of being snuck up on and my drive for the truth (it may be a hard pill to swallow, but it will set you free) set me on a three year journey of unpleasantries, life changing belief systems and absolute night terrors.
At each and every opportunity, I gently tried to tell the people around me the truth. It took my husband two years, two years to realize I knew a lot more than him-he did the research himself and came to his own conclusion. But the years of “Oh honey, you’re hilarious” took its toll on me.
What do you think it does to a person’s soul when no one around them believes one word that comes from their lips? I can answer that, it ain’t pretty. And so it was that I phoned my acquaintance Bea today, upon her request, with news of Mike Pence.
“I’m really sorry, but it doesn’t look…”
I don’t believe you!!
That moment I felt something growing within; a rage and fury I had yet to know, and it rises again in the retelling. Who are you going to believe, your friend of ten years of the MSM? What on God’s green earth would be my motive to lie? Please, by all means, shed some light on the situation.
I don’t claim to know about the economy, or the plight of today’s farmers; but what I know for certain (that’s what research does folks, it enlightens one) I share. I don’t go out into the Twilight Zone blindly nor naively. I had to learn the hard way whom to trust, and how to get at the truth-I have sources with high military intelligence clearances. John F. Kennedy, Jr. follows me on Twitter-along with some two thousand other people who just happen to assume I have half a brain-and a good one at that.
From this day hence, I shall banish these people from mine kingdom.
If your first name starts with STUPID? You’re shit out of luck.
I don’t really like to talk about this subject so much, but the Lord put it on my heart to do so. At some point I gave this all to God, and I have no intention of taking it back.
For some time now, I have been utterly alone. I have my Jesus, my husband and my dog-so I suppose you could say it was my decision, or ours, anyway. In search of an authentic life, no matter the price-I have distanced myself from almost everyone I had truly loved, aside from my good friend Jason. Anyone who ever used can tell you that that codependent relationships, especially when the child of an addict is involved. We don’t just want people to love us, we need them to-and this is where I came to a crossroads in my relationship with Abba: I had to learn to trust Him and Him only.
The past two years had taken an emotional toll on me, I admit it. I finally stuck up for myself with a family member-the results being that we have not connected in two years. She was the one I told everything to, loved since she was a brat who waked around the house with a nightgown on her head-and screamed at warp volume each and every time my brother and I entered a room. For years I was in torment over the constant back and forth, months of the silent treatment, the gaslighting and triangulation.
I was in denial, until I phoned her after being stalked in an incident at Middlecreek Wildlife Sanctuary. It happened in broad daylight, and I was shaken to my core. I called her and asked her to return my call.
She never called back. It wasn’t discussed until a year later, the results were the same-she dropped the subject. Mere months later I would have the most harrowing supernatural experience of my lifetime. I reached out, told her not to worry if she saw anything on Facebook. Told her and the fam that I was, indeed, okay.
Not. Word. One.
I am over my anger, I am over my heartache, I have forgiven.
There is no appealing to her sensibilities. She does not think she has done anything wrong. We are at an impasse. Every video and article I read tells me that no contact is the only way to go, but is it? Perhaps, but what if we went at it like this:
The person whom you feel has abused you has been abused themselves. More than anything in the world, the offenders want and need to be loved and are terrified of you not loving them. Realize that they have done the best they can, and before anyone makes a move? A few ground rules:
Assert yourself. Ensure the other player understands that you will not be bullied, emotionally manipulated or shat upon under any circumstances.
It’s not about you-it’s about their dysfunction. You are only responsible for your dysfunctionality.
Make an agreement the past will not be regurgitated like last week’s meatloaf.
Pray for them. Sincere prayer can and does work miracles. I am living proof of that.
I believe, as my husband says, that it’s six of one, a half dozen of the other.
But before any attempt at reconciliation, we both understand that in our own ways we love each other fiercely, and would be there in a heartbeat if needed.
A few days ago, I told y’all the story about my unpleasant encounter with a woman from my exercise class, the trainer actually. I called her Harriet.
Harriett was hysterical after my factual retelling of the day when Mrs. Hoffmaster, my Kindergarten teacher, told me I would have to come for a few days during the Summer, to learn how to skip. Yes, you read that right. As I am regaling my audience with the story of how I was almost left back a grade, I was oh so rudely interrupted by Miss Thang.
“Oh no, Michele, that couldn’t have happened,” she is shaking her head, as if correcting a small child. She went on to argue that she was a teacher for blah, blah, blah years-well, you can just imagine. Stunned at first, I rallied for the cause and told her (nicely, I thought) that YES, INDEEDY DO, I GREW UP IN PHILADELPHIA, NOT THIS AREA. WHO ARE YOU TO CALL ME A LIAR???? Ok, I didn’t say that part, but I argued with her until she shut her pie hole.
The women next to me mouthed, What the fuck? I, on the other hand, had absolutely no problem saying WTF out loud. As my face is my tell, I can only imagine the look I gave her. I expected the situation to rectify after she apologized to me: needless to say, that wasn’t exactly an option.
On Thursday, I brought a carrot cake to class for the September birthdays. I love to bake, and the ladies in Bands love to eat-so it works out nicely. It was the first layer cake I had ever made, successfully that is. I strategically parked next to the church (where class is held) so I had less of a chance at dropping my masterpiece. 🙂
While in class, I updated my girlfriend as she hadn’t been in class that day. We both took notice that Harriet would not so much as look my way-let alone offer an apology. Afterwards, Sherry and I stood outside, next to my jeep, and finished our convo about the “incident.”
You did the right thing, sticking up for yourself, she said. I think she owes you an apology, at the very least.
At that very moment, the diva walked past us, and gave me the oddest look-her eyes bulging out of her head-behind her prescription sunglasses. At first I thought she may have overheard us, but I had nothing to hide. And then it hit me, she was outraged that I had parked so close to her church. She couldn’t believe the depravity, I mean, who did I think I was, anyway?
Here’s the rub. Just last week she had confided that she thought she may be developing Alzheimer’s, as her father had died from the ravaging disease. Knowing what I know, I asked her what type of personality he had. I know that certain personality types are much more prone to dementia, especially the Narcissist.
She thought about that a second before answering.
“Total narcissist, had to control everything freaking detail of our lives. Just a very unhappy man.”
There comes a point in one’s life when they stop fighting. You know the person because, hopefully, you are the person who may be the family oddball, black sheep or scapegoat-primarily because you can think for yourself. When you break the chains of codependency, you truly live in a land of freedom; but may I caution you to maybe, if possible, not argue, harass or demean anyone for any reason-especially for their political or private beliefs.
The past three years have hardened our determination to fight for God and country. Yet we are weary and battle fatigued; some of us have PTSD, others family in the military. Basically a group of anonymous patriots who want our God given rights to be protected, our children safe, human trafficking ended. Our families divided, our friendships lost-it adds up and it is my belief that most of us just want the truth to come out.
Yet we remain in suspended animation, awaiting the other shoe dropping-the one that will send the people you love reeling in thoughts of hopelessness, or helplessness. I have learned a few things about the Great Awakening, and in so doing Jesus has shown me how to overcome any thoughts of enmity or rage. I have come through to the other side, through persecution and great grief-and now I want nothing but God, love and peace in my life.
I’m not perfect, I still fight dirty on Twitter when I’m fatigued. I can meme with the best of them, but I try to do it with humor. I will not fight, condemn or fear another man. Simply put? Don’t harsh my mellow man.
You hide in your mansion, with young people’s blood… – Dylan
For every fallen angel, demon and predator-to those of you who hide in the dark alleys and crawl the crevices-God have mercy on your souls.
The best we can do, as soldiers of Christ, is allow His love to fill our hearts, His grace to calm our souls. We need to love one another back to health, one day, one need at a time.
Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I pray you all had a great one-mine started out precariously, and it proved that no good deed goes unpunished. Indeed.
In a moment of weakness, compassion and dumbassery-I asked my MIL if she would like us to join her on Mother’s Day-at her church. Actually, my husband brought the notion up last Sunday-and I told him I’d pray on it-only to find that he had been joking. JOKING. Unfortunately, it was too late. My heart got the better of me, and I set plans for 9:30 a.m. We would be meeting in the strip mall that held her place of worship (Dwain and I called it The Cult) thirty minutes prior to the service.
Dumbassery at its finest.
Anyhooser, Dwain was none too pleased with the news, but I held my ground.
“What could POSSIBLY go wrong? We’ll be in church, sort of,” I stammered.
You have to understand a few things before I go on. My MIL is a narcissist with possible Sociopathic tendencies. She can scream at volume eleventy hundred with the best of them, and at one point in fact-she locked herself in the bathroom on my husband’s 35th birthday because his WIFE was taking him out to eat. The histrionics were impressive, but I’m no longer intimidated. Things have become manageable between us, as I take no shit and she knows this-she knows better than to mess with the likes of this girl. Everything turned around the day I stood up to her-any attempts to bring me under her control have failed-and with my new strength I laugh in the face of danger, daily.
So the cult, I mean church fills up to maximum capacity. I have to admit, between the praise music and the guest (a Christian comedian who had us in hysterics) my husband and I were truly enjoying ourselves. We sat there for two hours, no major faux pas-I did spill my Kombucha on a stranger, but nothing major-patiently awaiting the blessing.
From the corner of my eye, I see the veneer on her face. It has cracked, and the pieces are falling all over the place. She was even drinking her water in an angry fashion, which made me pee myself a little, but thankfully I was wearing a carefree panty liner.
What’s wrong with my mother?
“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?,” I reply.
Dwain, still mildly petrified of his mother, shook his head in definitive protest.
Before I could even ask, the tirade began.
“Well, I’m not even going to clap for him. (The comedian) I wanted my pastor to be here (he was on vacation) and the real praise team (he was on vacation) to be here. And…”
I quit listening. A seething rage began from the depths of my being: I held it in, but I could feel the monster within, pushing and prodding at my insides-he wanted out, and in the worst way.
I stand outside in the semi-hurricane and wait for my husband to pick me up-which he does every Sunday. The wind is blowing people’s umbrellas inside out, I think I hear a woman scream, where the HARRY is my husband? I re-entered the church four times before I finally stormed out and to the truck. I open the door…
“What the FUCK?????????????????????”
I scream these words at volume coxswain, and sit my ass in the seat.
“I was on the phone with your son. Sorry. And by the way, there may be people in upstate New York who didn’t hear you.”
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around..
I saw a video this morning that kind of, sort of, somewhat saved my sanity. Her name is Polly, and I had subscribed to her two years ago, while up in the mountain cabin we call our second home. We don’t own the cabin, but our friends are generous enough to allow us free reign, and for that we are incredibly thankful. Here’s the thang: I didn’t remember following her, and I saw her in a new light as she was doing vids on The Great Awakening.
What is the Great Awakening?
Many people mistake this movement as a blatant political statement geared towards wiping the planet of liberals: I caution you not to fall for that, as this movement does not discriminate exclude anyone, of any denomination or political affiliation. Quite simply? We have been lied to, manipulated, and poisoned-literally-by the people we were taught to trust. Once you go down the Rabbit Hole, so to speak, you cannot unlearn what you are faced with-and afterwards? After you are AWAKE (I believe God chooses when and if we are to awaken, and frankly? It has been an ongoing process: it begins where Elizabeth Kubler-Ross left off-you will grieve, you will deny, you will bargain and in the end? It is up to you to decide what your heart and soul are telling you.
A purpose driven quest to get to the truth, no matter the cost.
In my case, as in Polly’s, I lost my family. Everything I thought I knew fell away. At first, I was screaming the facts at anyone who would listen. I made mistakes. I wept daily. And to this day I am alone in my fight, to be a seeker of the God’s honest truth.
I don’t try to red pill anyone any longer. You can use this information in any manner you choose. I don’t write on it very often as I am still working on a way to begin a blog under an assumed name-my life is no longer my narcissist’s business, but she is loathe to understand this concept-and reads my writings daily.
I pray we can all come together, as a nation, as a people, as God’s children. For only then will this bitter war of words and flesh end; for the good of all nations under our mighty Savior.
Say brave things-you have a roaring Lion inside of you, and he is begging to be heard.