I’m on the Outside…..

Good Wednesday morning to you all.   I was unable to attend church this week, and I was supposed to be working the Welcome Center.  At this moment I am almost hysterical at the idea of being held hostage by a bad knee and a chip on my shoulder.  I keep telling myself that others have it much worse (and they do) I think of the homeless in weather like this.  I almost drove to the city with warm blankets for the plight, but quickly realized that the roads were like ice, and I was left in frustrated despair.  I am left with decisions, so many, do I go to a Specialist?  Shouldn’t I just trust God?  I am not going to ask Why Me? because that is a ridiculous supposition, we all suffer in one way or another, right?

I want to rant and rave.  I want to hide in the fetal position, as I am as afraid as I was as a little girl, terrorized by thunderstorms.  As a sufferer from CPTSD, I do not do well with unanswered questions or the unknown.  I loathe going to the doctor, deplore their inadequacies in diagnosing, well, anything.  I trust that He will heal me, much more than I do the medical profession.  God has never, ever let me down; big Pharma and human physicians have, on more than several occasions.  .

I feel as if I stand outside the window, looking at the healthy and content, as if they have something I desire, something I need.  They look oh so pleased on the outside, and maybe that’s the secret.

I’ll just fake it ’til I make it……I want someone to hold me and tell me it’s going to be okay.  I want, oh how I desire, to be that ten year old child once more.

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~

Life During Wartime

 

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.

Discernment.

Patriotism.

Faith.

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.

 

Haunted by Sheeple

 

I am mildly disturbed.  Some would say deranged with rage, and I am surrounded by Sheeple at each and every turn.  How does a girl, who suffers from PTSD, get to the bottom of it all without terrorizing herself, her dog and even, yes-even the mail lady?  Poor Tammy.  She slid into our mailbox yesterday, and I wouldn’t have even noticed if my pup hadn’t sounded the alarm.  Does that ever happen to you?  You’re in the middle of deep concentration and the dog barks you out of your stupor?  Scares the red blood cells right out of me, I swear.

The poor girl was traumatized, as her truck was hanging on the very precipice of an embankment.  As I leaned in to see if she was okay, it was clear to me that she was in shock.  Once I had her in the house, we needed to wait for my husband to arrive and pull her vehicle out.

“Did you know that President Trump is saving the world as we speak?”

“JFK, Jr. is alive and well, and I think he’s Q, and Trump is Q+.”

I stopped talking when I saw the fear mounting in her eyes.  She had absolutely no idea what I was speaking about.   I’m quite sure she went home to her husband and bitched about the “crazy lady” that bent her ear with nonsense-and that is the point of this blog:  Q is 100% real.  The Great Awakening is 100% real.  I live in a town of 300 people, and aside from my friends Sherry and Scott?  Not one of them believes a word I say.

No more redpilling for this girl.  I try to understand and practice patience, but I have to say I am frustrated more than not.  And with so very much at stake, I remind myself that day by day (maybe not in the sleepy town of Kleinfeltersville)  the masses are truly awakening.

Recently, I have had a hard time keeping up with the news; an even harder time at making the distinction between truth and crapola-so, I cancelled most of my YouTube subscriptions and now get my news from the horses mouth, on 8 chan, of course. The SGT Report is real news, and Q has confirmed this.   I have to be honest, I am not quite sure what to think of the new QAnon book:  we were warned a while back-be careful who you follow.  You see, there are Patriots and Paytriots-those that are trying to profit from the Great Awakening and Q movements.  As it turns out, the people who wrote the book are the very same who helped me to make sense of it all-and I am torn between supporting and condemning. 

I suppose we all need to understand that false information is necessary-there are bad people, even our enemies, on this board.

I agree with Sean; ask those questions of God himself.  He is the author of our reality, our past and our precious future.

He is the Alpha and Omega.  Abba won’t censor, ridicule or abandon you.

This is a war that is gaining momentum, good vs. evil, a shift in consciousness, a new world-God wins in the end, and that, my friends, is all I need to know.

For now.

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.

Broken Halos

 

Sitting here thinking, left to my own devices and dwelling on forgiveness, my family and how much things have and will change for reasons that may surprise you.  I was devastated by the loss of my family, but if it weren’t for the broken spell of codependency?  I would not be writing, creating, and, quite possibly, breathing.  I simply could not be my authentic self and survive their disrespect, hostility, or apathy.

So, now that we got the crappy part out of the way, I was daydreaming about how God picks us up and takes us away:  from the pain, the angst and the scary monsters.  A year ago today?  I was a sniveling coward, awaiting the latest news on the possible Zombie Infiltration.  Ok, maybe not zombies, but definitely black eyed children.  I was so sure that September 23 would be the return of Jesus, that my poor husband drove all the way home from work just to comfort me.  I now know that no man can come close to even guessing at the day of Jesus’ return, and that the idiots who produced the videos were looking for likes, or subscribers. Gawd.  How pitiful.  But wait?  Was I a charity case, or was my brokenness a blessing in disguise?  The latter, actually, as it strengthened my faith and made me so much stronger in the process.

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The men pictured above, Jesse and my husband Dwain, are the true loves of my life, and I praise God each and every day for their presence in my life.   None of this would ever be remotely possible if Yah didn’t give us second chances.  And third.   And eleventy hundred.  I am not admitting to murder, or some other heinous crime-don’t get me wrong: but even if I was?  Well, I would have to confess and repent, but yes, there would be forgiveness.  People get hung up on the word “repent.”  Translated from the Holy Bible, repent  means “think anew,” and of course we must change our behavior-actions speak so much louder than words.

When I get angry or hurt by those in my intimate circle, or even colleagues at church or volunteering, what have you-I think of them as broken, and in just as much if not more pain than I could possibly know.  I may be estranged from my family, but I forgive them because I love them.  I don’t know about liking them at this juncture in our history; but I know they have pain.  I know they try their very best, as strange as that may sound.  They are loving parents with successful careers-what more could you possibly want?  But regardless, I am only too aware that they, too, have moments of despair.  My sister’s youngest child is in college, and I can’t imagine the sadness.  Of course, she thought I was contagious while going through perimenopause, and not only withheld every iota of compassion-but would not stand close to me at family functions.  Yes, this is true.  🙂

Hate your boss?  Think of him/her as a young child-it helps with prying the sympathy out of our hardened hearts.

Want to strangle your better half?  Think of the last time they touched you in your secret, hidden places, where no one else has the power or accessibility.

The elderly person on the walker, you know, the one who is in front of you when you are going anywhere.  You are in a hurry, and bloody hell why is this happening to me?  They may not have anyone left to visit them, or possibly dying a slow and painful death.  Repent!

The world is out there waiting for us, as they will know we are Christians by our love~

Destiny is Calling Me…

 

I don’t quite know where to begin, and my mind is racing in seven different directions, in seven different languages. 🙂

I am not fond of speaking of my past, in terms of the darker days. I feel a chill in the air, my mood plummets to the pits of hell-but God took me through those fires for a reason, and I know that my story is your story-you, the addict. And by addiction I don’t mean to chocolate: I’m talking drinking to the point of blackouts; stealing medications from clients; multiple “accidents” and that feeling in the pit of your gut-your guilt, coupled with the pain you are self medicating.

Nasty. Putrid. Bleak.

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“How could I possibly clean myself up? What would I do with all of my raw, searing pain? How could I cope?”

Beloveds, listen to the wise old hoot owl-learn from my mistakes. I spent years running from a traumatic childhood, turned to booze and men, then pills and cocaine. I married the man of my dreams (ok, he is seriously on my nerves today-but we made vows and stuff) and when I had life by the balls? I washed it down the kitchen drain; hook, line and sinker. Ten years of my life are missing, literally. Yet, I was just another sinner, clawing my way out of the rat race; running at warp speed to what I had no idea at the time.

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I ran into the boys from Teen Challenge, an amazing program of hope and sobriety for men of all ages and backgrounds, who have failed in all previous attempts to get sober. Every holiday we see them at our local grocery store. I listened to their stories, we laughed-and cried together. I have an innate connection to the broken-I always will. Even without their stand and wares? I could have picked out those men in a heartbeat.

Addicts have a tell, and it takes one to know one. It’s all in the eyes-which speak to me in various ways. Today it was the look of the haunted. I knew immediately that they were just beginning their journey; the look of sheer panic, yes. But something about them stood out, as if they were old souls or friends I hadn’t seen in some time.

“I just got out of prison, was there for two years. Lost my family, home and job. I tried every program out there, and I relapsed every time-it is an absolute miracle that God found me when He did. It’s Jesus that makes all of the difference! I have my family back, ma’am. And you know who the glory goes to, now, don’t ya?”

Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you. -Deuteronomy 31:8

Every day you don’t take a drink is a miracle.

Be miraculous~