Ladies and gents, may I introduce the man God used to restore my sanity-Mr. Richard Gannon. Although we’ve never met, I feel a solid closeness to this man as I’ve watched him go from traumatized and triggered to victorious and free. I love him, adore even, and I find his videos a panacea to those of us who have been around the block a time or two with a toxic, dehumanizing relationship.
I deleted my last writing as, turns out? That happened to be the one he did read, and three times at that. His Reader’s Digest version?
You told the world I was a satan worshipper.
No, I am not the only half of this couple who has a vivid imagination, and he does have a knack for missing entire points of conversation.
Post argument I spent my days busy, looking for apartments, and praying/sleeping. Jesus always combines tragedies for me in a way I can’t quite describe, as if he is killing two birds with one stone. I discovered a swollen lymph node last evening, which means I either have Lyme or I am down with the ship sick. Almost every argument we have had? It coincides with the absolute necessity that I slow down and heal, emotionally and physically-something my nervous energy does not allow, ever. I also think there is a self-attached stigma to my boudoir, as through depression and illness I’ve done my time there.
So, today I feel so punk I call it a day, and head right back up to bed after skimming the headline news. I am drained, dehydrated and dangerously depressed. I phone my husband, there is a small breakthrough. Misunderstandings are corrected, words taken back for prosperity. BUT, there is the reason I was triggered (the full moon, my period and being under the weather only added to my veracity) and that reason had years and years of build up.
I would have thought my temper would have been calmed by now, but interestingly enough? I find that I am more ferocious, fiery that ever before. It’s as if the Holy Spirit is fighting with me, or for me, I can’t say. I can literally feel the Lion’s head rearing, and a force much stronger than me takes over from within. The result is animalistic, intense and frightening. Here’s the rub-I don’t get angry like I used to, I’ve been there and find it does nothing for one’s tendency towards migraines. I know a thing or two, and I consider myself to be a calm and loving force of nature.
Alas, then it happens, I am T R I G G E R E D, a wound from childhood or even years ago will surface, along with a trauma memory-and Sara doesn’t live here anymore. I have prayed about this phenomena, and it turns out it is healthy for those of us who have been abused, to feel the emotion of anger. In other words, rage is good. It means you respect yourself and in my case it also means I am defending the little girl who had no way of defense.
My war is not with my husband. Nor my monster in law. My war was with powers and principalities unseen, yes, in the spiritual realms. However, I will not dine in the presence of mine enemies.
Cried out, I did a bible dip for relief. I say a prayer, and flip to a page to find His wisdom.
The comfort I received was read from Isaiah, a book I read from often. My kitten snuggled close, kissing every centimeter of my face, tickling, delighting. Isaiah speaks to the reality that as Christians, we will be persecuted. God will use these trials and heartbreaks to refine us, to strengthen us. No, we will not be spared sorrow in this life. Yet we can live this truth with certainty-Jesus will see us through safely, each and every step of the way.
He alone has the victory, and if you are His you will feel this in your very bones.
No one ever said that picking up your cross would be easy. God assures us that it will be well worth the tears, and that He is carrying us-each and every step of the way.