Sugar Mountain

You can’t be twenty on Sugar Mountain, though you know that you’re leaving there too soon.

I apologize for not getting to my audience sooner, but the fates combined to leave me with no electronics. Long story, and let’s just get down to it, shall we?

I want to preface anything I say with a caveat-if you don’t believe me, have trust issues or think I have time to bullshit you?

This blog isn’t for you.

THE CARONA VIRUS IS A HOAX

The Wuhan virus was patented by the Deep State to create an Armageddon: while they fled for underground tunnels and Antartica-caviar and only the best champagne will do, thank you very much-[THEY] were going to kill as many of us as possible.

The Trump administration, the nation’s military generals, and especially God Himself thwarted that plan. What you are watching in real time is the systematic destruction of the deep state cabal. Our beloved, duly elected president needs time to arrest thousands upon thousands of very, very evil people. He wants us safe. Donald J. Trump cannot shout out his plans because the enemies of our state would be more informed than he wants them to be. I am telling you to trust the plan, take a break, and look to God for answers and self reflection. You will have plenty, plenty of time on your hands in which to do so.

In 2017, the Holy Spirit saw fit to convict me of one thing and one thing only: that #QAnon was real. Over the past years, I felt God moving mountains for me: He gave me everything I needed to prepare for the job I excel at-and that is encouraging, loving and comforting people.

What you are watching on television is Public Enemy Numero Uno: the mainstream media conglomerate run by the likes of George Soros and major network talking heads who will not only be indicted? [THEY] will face charges of treason, punishable by death. It is they who caused this panic, as they are in bed with satan. It proves a point, one that we have been trying to tell you for years: don’t believe a word you hear.

I lost my shit over the years, on the people I loved the most. Uncontrollable fits of rage and frustration, combined with an exhausted and withered psyche, led me to turn to Jesus in a way I never had before. Through the miracle of faith I was guided by discernment the likes of which I have never experienced before. The great Comforter was way ahead of me, to be sure.

There will be executions.

There will be blood shed.

There will be mass arrests.

This storm is biblical, my dear beloveds. If there was every a good time to pray, it’s now. We are SAFE. The patriots are in control. I will be blogging all weekend, as there will be an upcoming 10 days of darkness in which our entire internet system will be rebooted.

Buh bye Zuckerberg.

See ya later @Jack.

Don Lemon? It’s been real.

What can you do? Ensure you have plenty of food, water and, er, toilet paper. Cooperate with your president. Have your prescriptions filled for three months if possible, stock up on whatever it is that you simply cannot be without-for me, Nicorette gum and pet food.

Comfort your friends and neighbors. Remain CALM, and please-look up. He’s holding you. He’s loving you. GOD is in control.

He is~

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 can tell you that my husband fell into this category before he met Christ.  He was controlling and I codependent.  In some ways Dwain had to have a short reign on his wife, I was wild and addicted-prone to folly, and blackouts.  I once woke from a black out and realized I had third degree burns all over my right arm.  To this very day we don’t know how it happened, but I have an inkling it was demons-hell, I was playing with fire.

I recently wrote a blog addressing Dwain’s tendency to overreach his authority.  I deleted it 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.

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If I feel as if my inner child is being attacked? It’s not going to be pretty, for anyone.

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.

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Jesse and Maybelline pile on the bed. I slowly succumb to the nurturing only Jesus can orchestrate.

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.

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Hauntingly Familiar

So I wandered through my gardens today, half heartedly. I usually love my time in the garden, but today I wasn’t feeling it. My mood was great, I just wanted to be sitting on my ass.

In the worst possible way.

I watched as my sister in law drove down are rural Mountain Road, top down on the sportscar.

“HEY MICHELE!”

It didn’t bother me one bit at first. My monster in law lives directly across the street, and let me tell you honey-there is no love lost. She is a narc if there ever was a narc, but since my recovery I see right through the Jezebel spirit. I didn’t speak to her for almost a year because her behavior became so outrageous, so toxic. I wanted no part. In an effort to keep the peace, I forgave her (I am way too forgiving) because it is virtually impossible for me to hold a grudge. She apologized, I agreed to Christmas dinner…

My problem begins when I let my guard down, which, with her anyway? She is so good at the manipulation that she reels me right back in. Don’t get me wrong, she knows I’m on to her-yet she continues her war on my psyche by playing inappropriate games she thinks will bring me down. That isn’t going to happen. However, it is getting to the point that I almost went loco today in front of her “company.”

You see, she had invited my husband’s brother, and my sister in law and her husband who live two hours away. As I pulled at the roots of an old hydrangea-the bells and whistles went off like fireworks on the fourth of July.

Are you fucking serious?,” I yelled in my husband’s direction.

I went on to say how infuckingcredibly rude it was of her to once again invite the entire family sans team Dwain and Michele. Did she not think we could SEE them? Were we invisible?

What in the serious fuckwad.

And then I got mad for my husband. I knew it hurt him, and I was livid.

I grabbed the pup and went for the orchard in the back. I knew damn well they could hear me at the shindig. My Tourette’s kicked in.

WHITE TRASH, MISERABLE BITCH-MANIPULATIVE C***

I didn’t care at that point, in my mind it was far better than appearing like Medusa and hurling the bitch to the ground. I mean, could you just see it? I thought it far better to hurl insults from seven acres away, than to bludgeon her to amidst the catsup and relish.

Instead I stormed into the house. I smoked some medical weed.

Folks, I have found the cure to sobriety amidst the mayhem that is family: cannabis and a Shark vacuum cleaner.

With attachments.

Sugar Mountain

You can’t be twenty on Sugar Mountain, though you know that you’re leaving there too soon.

I apologize for not getting to my audience sooner, but the fates combined to leave me with no electronics. Long story, and let’s just get down to it, shall we?

I want to preface anything I say with a caveat-if you don’t believe me, have trust issues or think I have time to bullshit you?

This blog isn’t for you.

THE CARONA VIRUS IS A HOAX

The Wuhan virus was patented by the Deep State to create an Armageddon: while they fled for underground tunnels and Antartica-caviar and only the best champagne will do, thank you very much-[THEY] were going to kill as many of us as possible.

The Trump administration, the nation’s military generals, and especially God Himself thwarted that plan. What you are watching in real time is the systematic destruction of the deep state cabal. Our beloved, duly elected president needs time to arrest thousands upon thousands of very, very evil people. He wants us safe. Donald J. Trump cannot shout out his plans because the enemies of our state would be more informed than he wants them to be. I am telling you to trust the plan, take a break, and look to God for answers and self reflection. You will have plenty, plenty of time on your hands in which to do so.

In 2017, the Holy Spirit saw fit to convict me of one thing and one thing only: that #QAnon was real. Over the past years, I felt God moving mountains for me: He gave me everything I needed to prepare for the job I excel at-and that is encouraging, loving and comforting people.

What you are watching on television is Public Enemy Numero Uno: the mainstream media conglomerate run by the likes of George Soros and major network talking heads who will not only be indicted? [THEY] will face charges of treason, punishable by death. It is they who caused this panic, as they are in bed with satan. It proves a point, one that we have been trying to tell you for years: don’t believe a word you hear.

I lost my shit over the years, on the people I loved the most. Uncontrollable fits of rage and frustration, combined with an exhausted and withered psyche, led me to turn to Jesus in a way I never had before. Through the miracle of faith I was guided by discernment the likes of which I have never experienced before. The great Comforter was way ahead of me, to be sure.

There will be executions.

There will be blood shed.

There will be mass arrests.

This storm is biblical, my dear beloveds. If there was every a good time to pray, it’s now. We are SAFE. The patriots are in control. I will be blogging all weekend, as there will be an upcoming 10 days of darkness in which our entire internet system will be rebooted.

Buh bye Zuckerberg.

See ya later @Jack.

Don Lemon? It’s been real.

What can you do? Ensure you have plenty of food, water and, er, toilet paper. Cooperate with your president. Have your prescriptions filled for three months if possible, stock up on whatever it is that you simply cannot be without-for me, Nicorette gum and pet food.

Comfort your friends and neighbors. Remain CALM, and please-look up. He’s holding you. He’s loving you. GOD is in control.

I Want to go to Mars

Yes, I am well aware of the fact that I used this song in a previous blog this week. I am so enamored of this woman, and it appears as if she wrote the words for all of us, and none of us at the very same time. What I do know is that she knows the pain of betrayal, and possibly the pain of rejection, loneliness and addiction.

So, this is part two of my testimony. There will be an ending, as with all things-but I haven’t written it yet as my life has just begun to unfold. When you accept Christ, you die to this world. I wish I knew that as a child, banished to the kingdom of naught. It is more than enough that I know this now.

I write this blog in order to come alongside my brothers and sisters, the words written by the Holy Spirit and all glory going to God-my writing has taken on a life of its own-I am just the vessel in which He uses to communicate His message of hope and goodwill to all of His children.

“People” have never, ever understood me. Until I read Ezekiel I had no clue that the reason I didn’t fit in was because I was literally not a part of the game called life-I had no interest in popularity, no interest in money, not one iota of interest in what others find interesting. And although there have been times of extreme emotional pain? Each day in bed, each bout of depression and each earth shattering scenario has made me the person I am today-and I like her. I like her very much.

As a matter of fact? It wasn’t until very recently, and due to my salvation that I realized that God doesn’t make junk. My mother had some mental health issues related to her own upbringing. As a young child, I recognized the importance of pleasing her-and I did everything humanly possible to make her realize my profound love for her. I cleaned the house and took care of her Saturday hangovers. Oh, the joy I felt when she called me her little angel! That all changed when I reached the age of 11 and wanted my own friends, my own life.

“Only whores play street hockey,” she said to me one morning as I was placing her Tylenol and coffee on the side of the bed.

I didn’t understand. My heart crumbled into a million pieces and I had to do a double take-this wasn’t the mother I knew and why in the world would she call me a whore? The answers lay in her own insecurities, her need for control and her Borderline Personality Disorder-not officially diagnosed, but I know it wasn’t Narcissism because later in her life she changed, dramatically, and I knew we were loved.

My relationship with her in my formative years was indescribable. I remember picking her Tiger Lillys, telling her I loved her, begging her to love me-but as I grew her resentment of me took on a life of its own. She verbally abused me on a daily basis, then wondered aloud why I had no self esteem. This is when the shameful voices began, so ingrained that I distinctly remember the day that they stopped.

It was a few years after I got sober. I sat down at my computer early one morning, and instinctively knew that something had changed. But what? I called out to Jesus and asked Him, what is happening, am I losing my mind?

No. I was regaining perspective. Gone were the taunting, cruel and unusual whispers of persecution.

You’re a piece of shit. You can’t do anything right. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Lose some weight you pig, why can’t you touch anything without it turning to crap? Nobody loves you, why would they? You don’t deserve love, no whore does.

It was constant and I drank to get rid of the ghosts. I drank to feel something but less than, to quiet the rage and the thoughts that led me to weeks in bed at a time-depression so severe I often thought of offing myself-I just didn’t have the courage.

A few years ago I went to a doctor’s appointment-a specialist. I had been measured at 4’11” my entire life. When the nurse called out 5’1″ I thought she was talking to someone other than myself.

“Umm, can you take that again? I hardly think I’ve grown two inches in the past year,” I laughed.

She did take it again and with the same result.

It finally hit me like a ton of bricks. The shame, self loathing and mocking voices had kept me hunched over. As I grew in my recovery and healing, I stood straight for the first time in 50 years. My self loathing had been so horrific that I had literally crippled myself.

In tomorrow’s blog I will address my rebirth as a born again and how Jesus took me by the hand and taught me the greatest lesson I have learned.

Keep hope alive, dear ones. God is real and true and loyal and He wants you to know that above the din and darkness of this world? There is nothing but love awaiting you.

Guard Your Heart

Nothing better than Lucinda when you’re feeling…why, I don’t know what I am feeling, exactly.  A bittersweet mix of gratitude, prayer and high anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It is becoming obvious to me that some of us woke folks are starting to show signs of battle fatigue.  Some are losing their cool, and others (we are all in different stages of discovering the truth) are losing their religion, literally.  When you realize that the Pope is a satanic pedovore, that there is a dungeon in the Vatican, where they sacrifice children to satan-or that Hillary Rodham Clinton is actually in the exact same league?  Not only are you mustering up each and every crumb of courage in your body, but you are being traumatized-over and over again.

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Until I met my friend Kat, I didn’t realize just how far removed I have been from society.   Oh, I have a handful of extremely close friends-but I can count on one finger how many of them know the truth.  And she pretends she doesn’t when her man is around, so, yes, I would say I am very much alone, but didn’t fancy myself lonely until today, on the phone with Katherine.

“I saw the picture of the child that Hillary raped and murdered, Sara.  A woman on Twitter sent it to me, and I can’t sleep.  I can’t believe I saw that picture…”

We spoke for over an hour, taking great solace in the company of another soul who sees reality for what it is, and not what they want you to think it is.  Another human who has broken through the programming we have all had aimed at us since birth.  That’s right:  they have brainwashed us via music, movies and news-nothing, and I mean nothing is as it appears to be.

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What hurts us both the most?  The cold shoulders, family interventions, wide eyed stares into the abyss-each and every time we open our mouths.  She fought with her husband last night, and her family made her promise not to talk about John F. Kennedy, Jr. again.  You see, she had told her entire brood that he was going to be at the 4th of July festivities, not unlike my experience last Thanksgiving, when I announced to Dwain’s entire family that John would be in the Macy’s Day Parade.

“I’ll never make that mistake again,” I told her.  

Just moments later I realized that I had told you, my 400 followers! that John John would come out in Washington, D.C.-on the fourth of July.

“Shit.”

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Here’s the deal:  we wouldn’t risk everything in our lives, be it our family’s trust or the job we love, for some whack job’s conspiracy theory.

We know shit.

Things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, but there is little we can do to spare you the pain we know so well.  God will do that.

And as much as it irritates the shit out of me?

We’ll be here when you need us.

He is~

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.

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If I feel as if my inner child is being attacked? It’s not going to be pretty, for anyone.

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.

11428_10202438082672826_8659447189157527897_n
Jesse and Maybelline pile on the bed. I slowly succumb to the nurturing only Jesus can orchestrate.

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.

16649025_394528127573887_7169289271080070843_n