Wonderwall

Well folks, we’ve made it to Easter yet still we are picking our noses and wondering what will come of us. People in the grocery stores are fist fighting over toilet paper. If you’re not wearing a mask it’s grounds for outright paranoia, yet still the general public is concentrating on COVID19. And that is how the Deep State Cabal wants it to be.

The World Health Organization, the United Nations and Bill Gates have surpassed the MSM in unlikability-their numbers are off, their predictions ridiculous-and then there’s Biff’s vaccinations. Enough to make you batshit crazy and then some.

I want to live in a civilized society, yet I don’t trust the rules. I am what you would call a rebel and have never, ever liked being told what to do. The way I figure it? If I’m minding my own business and not hurting anyone in the process? Fuck. You.

A few weeks ago I was hiking in our nearby state game lands. I know all of the conservation officers as I hike there daily. I also volunteer on the 2,000 acre property, and drive a 30 year old Jeep Wrangler-let’s just say I am well known: most of them call me the Hippy Chic because they read my blog. Just prefacing the story I am about to tell you.

Three years ago I was walking amongst the dense forestry surrounding the lake. It was Summer and the views and fauna were breathtaking. As I passed a thick Holly tree, I heard the leaves rustle. I chalked it up to my angels, but then I felt the hairs go up on the back of my neck. I was walking a long log, placed over the muckiest, grossest swamp you’ve ever seen. I had done this many times, but I still took my time as the last thing I wanted was to face plant in the disgusting muck and mire.

Suddenly I felt the hairs go up on the back of my neck. I turned to see a half naked man, carrying what I thought to be a crossbow. I don’t have to be hit over the head to know when I am being stalked. I gestured to my golden and we ran; to this day I think it a miracle I didn’t fall off of the log. As I neared the boat launch I saw my angels-in the form of conservation officers doing trail checks.

Annual trail checks.

Long story short, he was caught. As I left the parking lot, my PTSD in full swing, I see the red haired man. I pulled up behind him, and mind you I didn’t know he had been caught at the time. Jesus nudged me to get the license plate, and on a straightaway-doing 90 mph-I followed him to a stop sign and retrieved his numbers.

I didn’t say the officers were smart, but they made up for it with their compassion. Hell, they made up for it by saving my life.

They caught him masturbating but allowed him to throw out the evidence. They let him go with a warning, completely forgetting to run his plates. He was never charged, but officer Graham made sure he knew they were watching him. That episode cost me months of therapy, oodles of outbursts and my husband’s last nerve. But hey, praise God for the divine intervention!

Anyway, so back to my story. My dog and I walked, blissfully unaware of the deer hunters that surrounded us. I looked up to see Officer Graham driving towards me. I didn’t much care for the look on his face.

“Michele, now you know darn well you aren’t allowed to walk here during hunting season. What in the HELL are you doing?,” he barked.

I tried to charm him, but let’s face it-I was wearing three layers of clothing and I’m pretty sure there was snot coming from my nose. My hiking outfits are other worldly, to be kind. I once had a friend refuse to walk with me if I wore “those neon purple tights.”

I plead not guilty, but Graham knew better. Like I said, they know me.

I don’t wear a mask because I know the truth. COVID19 is a parasite. The “powers that be” wanted this to be a mass depopulation exercise. China (always ready to help out, those guys) most certainly did aid and abet the deep state in not only patenting the virus? There was foul play involved, but the Trump administration turned it right back on them.

The above video is a special treat for you to share with your friends and family. Even though I am estranged by my family for telling the truth? I emailed this to my brother. This documentary was released yesterday and it’s the best breakdown of Hellywood I have seen. Liz Crokin is a former Mockingbird Media reporter -she has reported for Entertainment Tonight in the past. Years ago they put a hit on her and she went into hiding. Now she works for us, and yes she is a part of the Great Awakening.

We will pull through this, I have no doubt. Don’t feed into the negativity around you-they feed off of our fear. And don’t forget-this is the end of [them], not us.

Ten Days of Darkness

Oh my dear Snarky McAllister-how will I make it through the day without your wit?

Well, the Zombie Apocalypse is here folks. It will never be what [they] wanted-to create deadly bio-warfare via Covid19-but Trump turned it around on them, and the rats are running, every which way.

I wish I could tell you differently, as I have been in denial for days-hoping against hope that Ten Days of Darkness meant anything but the internet shutting down for ten days. Vincent Kennedy confirmed my worst fears today-and now I am relaying the news.

Once I get over the shock, I start thinking about the amazing opportunity we now have to get back to God, back to the things that matter. I can actually read a book, get into my gardening-even get closer to the man of my dreams. The possibilities are endless, and I need a serious break from the grim reality that is my research.

I have realized that my job here is not to awaken you; that realization came after seeing an anon speak on the matter. Those of us who know, who have known? We were chosen for a reason. We can handle the truth, but the fact is that we will be looking at hundreds of thousands of psychiatric and medical emergencies due to the nature of the news. When Trump speaks about all of the hospitals being built, the medical equipment coming in-he is speaking the truth. Throughout the country thousands of trained professionals will be facing unprecedented panic: they will need us when this is over.

There will be survivors of SRA and satanic cults-not to mention the children we have rescued from the deep underground military bunkers-many of them found in cages. This is it-and we as a nation have a choice in the matter. We can sulk and hide, throw the blankets over our heads? Or we can pray for all of the addicts, victims and children who will be facing a deprogramming from MK Ultra.

We can be the hands and feet of our spectacular Lord and Savior. We will live to see the glory of the risen Christ-at least that is my fervent prayer.

So, I was thinking about the word Glory. And as it so often happens to a Hippy Chic like myself-it reminded me of some pretty awesome music.

See you on the other side. 🙂

Rising he justified, freely forever-one day He’s coming. Oh Glorious Day.
Drinking and drugging won’t help. You are needed, please stay straight. 🙂

The Pill Mill……….

When I was younger, I was appalled at how many pills my mother took.  She was extremely ill, emphysema, cancer, osteoporosis.  She died at 59, after the doctors mistook an ovarian cyst to be scar tissue.  I wish I had known then what I now know.  Mary Lou had every symptom of Ovarian cancer, the extreme bloating, constipation, pain and upset stomach.  When the doctor came in to the waiting room, I had to be held back by my siblings-the jerk never listened to her, I was there when he did an exam after her complaining: he felt her stomach and abdomen-she was fully clothed, why bother right? I was there when he told her she was “fine, absolutely fine.”

What shocked me, after her death, was the bottles and bottles of Ativan-she took 4 a day, and I thought that to be too much, too addicting, too sedating.  Now?  I take Ativan daily.  As a prn.  Ironically, the first time I ever took one was the day of her funeral.  Surrounded by friends, I fell asleep on the couch-and didn’t wake up until the following morning.  What addict is going to turn that away?  It was easier to let the melodic pull of oblivion take me away, to dreamless sleep and few cares, if any.

Today I take 200 mg. of Zoloft, 2 mg. Suboxyne for opiate addiction (down from 8 mg. and let me tell you, it was rough, really rough to taper) and one Trazadone for sleep.   My husband thinks this appalling, but I have fought hard to maintain an appearance of normality-in an increasingly abnormal world.

I can tell you that as a nurse, EMT and hospice worker, I could not get into the Suboxyne program soon enough.  I was in a dirty city, walking the streets of dilapidated houses, children in various stages of undress, and very scary men, who gathered on street corners to deal their goods, help a friend in “need.”  I asked a few of them, but as white on rice as I look?  They didn’t touch me with a ten foot pole.  Looking back, I think they thought me a cop.

I was working as a private duty nurse, and volunteering at a local hospice.  I was starting to face withdrawal from OxyContin, and I didn’t want to be the girl who steals patient’s pills.  My cousin by marriage (not a normal person in that family) ran a methadone clinic, and rehab.  I had attended that rehab until our fearless leader Tony called me out on missing a class, in front of the entire room.  When you quit drinking you are wired out of your mind, so many emotions coming from one heart-it’s maddening and exciting at the same time.  I told him off, asked why he allowed drinkers and cokeheads to use in our meetings (was this even remotely fair to the others who were serious about recovery?) and slammed out the door.  He wasn’t going to use me as an example when people were slumped in their chairs, or re-dusting the entire room, like the energizer bunny on crack.

Anyway, back to Scott.  I called him from my  locked car that very day.  I told him where I was, and I asked if I could come to the methadone clinic to talk to him.  He shut me down, but two minutes later?  I heard a commercial about Suboxyne: it has served me well, saved my career and, most likely, my life.  My advice to anyone starting the program?  Start at a really low milligram, that way you won’t have to detox every time you take a step down.  I ended up calling my girlfriend one morning, I literally couldn’t move, I was that weak.

“I can’t take it.  Would you please take me to the doctor?”

The good doctor had taken me off, cold turkey.  We had argued about my use of cannabis, and I stormed out-only to return a week later, begging for mercy.  And, thankfully, that is exactly what I was given.

What I would like to say is, don’t let anyone convince you to go off of any medication you may be taking for your mental health, especially if the plan is working.  Do I like having to take meds on a daily basis?  NO.  But one day, perhaps, the stigma will stop.  No  matter, because I have come to the point where I just don’t care what others think.

It’s not their body.  It’s not their mind.  It’s none of their business.

The Still, Small Voice

If I could give you one word to the wise when it comes to getting sober, it would be this-

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

And where do miracles come from?  God, of course.  Jesus.  Just writing His name soothes my soul.  I’m not preaching, I am stating fact.  If there is anything you need to be a success, it is your relationship with your Lord and Savior.  You may balk, thinking what does she know?

I know everything about the disease of addiction, and I acquired the knowledge during a 12 year journey of recovery.  When first sober, after a stint that resulted in me in hospital, with a cop at my door.  I thought there was no hope, not a sliver of a chance that I could climb out of the pit of despair I had found myself laying in-the bottom, for me.  I had attempted to slit my wrists, and I did a crappy job of it-but I also threatened my husband with a knife over a bottle of wine.  I don’t remember doing this, but I sobered up just as he was telling the social worker, and I cried out-

“Why, why are you lying???”

Thing is?  He wasn’t.

I spent the night, escorted to the potty by a cop, and whatever they gave me knocked me out cold for twenty four hours.  I awoke to the sound of my husband pulling out of the driveway, on his way to work.

I called my boss, sat down and cried.

I was absolutely frightened out of my skull.  I searched the cupboards and found a big jug of wine.  I stood there, on the kitchen chair, and stared at this bottle of poison.  To this day, I believe that I would have taken a drink if it hadn’t been for one thing:  Jesus was carrying me.

I put down the jug.  Too tired to fight with myself, I ascended the stairs and crawled back into bed.  I slept a lot in the very beginning.  Sleep was my only safe space, and my body was working overtime at ridding itself of the toxins accumulated over my drinking career.  I lost fifty pounds, without trying.  I later found out that I should have entered a rehab facility, as I had gone cold turkey.  The withdrawal from alcohol had put my father in a coma some thirty years before.  The irony has never escaped me.

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There were horrible mood swings and a backlog of grief.  I absolutely hated the people that could have a drink and enjoy a night out.  For years I felt as if I was truly missing out.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t miss anything else-the hangovers, the guilt, the drink and dial-but I wanted, more than anything else in the world at that time, to be a normal person.

And that was it, wasn’t it?  The incredible self involvement us addicts are guilty of while using.

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me.

The biggest slap in the face was realizing that not only did I put alcohol before my husband and family, but I put it before Abba.  Somewhere along the line, I forgot the nature of my sins.  I never stopped praying, but I was incredibly selfish and I regret that now.

So, my advice is this-

Take one minute at a time, and take each moment with God, not alone.

Without Him we are powerless.

With Him we are fearless.

There is hope, love, a future.  You are not a horrible person, and as it turns out?  Most alcoholics and drug addicts are incredibly compassionate and sensitive.  We don’t understand the lack of love in the world, it hits us harder than the average bear.  I was 56 years old before I realized that there was evil in this world.  I had no sense of boundaries, as often happens with children of alcoholics.  I truly thought that we were put on this earth to help and care for one another-it was a slap in the face to learn otherwise.

Two years ago I made a covenant between God and myself.  I promised Him I would never take a drink again.  I never promised anything to anyone, because I always fell short, always screwed things up.  So you can imagine I was pretty serious when I made this pact.

The miracle happened when I lost all desire to ever take a drink or drug again.

There is no shame in addiction.  None whatsoever.  It means that you leaned on a crutch like anyone and everyone else.  Food, gambling, smoking, drinking-gluttony is gluttony, anyway you look at it.  But it doesn’t matter in the end.  What matters is discovering what your personal kryptonite is-and then addressing the murderous pain it has caused you.  When you successfully process your grief, you won’t need a drink or a drug.

Stay strong.  Be a badass.  He has you~

 

 

Break Every Chain

Thank you Alice Phoebe Lou

This writing is dedicated to all of the broken souls who walk this thing called Earth. The ones who feel they don’t belong, the downtrodden, abused, ignored and downright terrified. I have walked in your shoes and I am here to tell you-it can be done-you, with the help of our Almighty Savior, can rise above the putrid stench of death. You can break each and every chain [they] tie you down with.

Who is [they]?

The narcissists and naysayers; the demonic and cruel; the toxic and absurd.

Picture yourself victorious. Picture yourselves in love with your life! Ask yourself, well, how did I get here?

A little while back I walked into my doctor’s office. Peter is my physician, but my friend as well. He saved me from the pain of opioid addiction, and I love him as if he were a brother. Once he saw the look on my face, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What is going on?,” he mumbled.

It appears I have lost every friend I once had. I have walked through fire to get here, this place called sober living. And now that I’ve arrived, I’ve no one to share it with, I cried.

I knew why, but men often want to fix things to the best of their ability. This is the same doctor who sat and held my hand when I’d gained all thirty pounds of the weight I’d lost-thinking it was God’s gift to me for quitting the drinking and drugging. The same man I screamed at when he had inadvertently kicked me out of his office for denying a pee test.

“Where do you get off? Did you ever think to ask me WHY I denied it? I can’t afford it Peter, I can’t afford you for crying out loud!!!”

Obviously we set things right, and here I was, in my doctor’s office-trying to come to terms with the fact that he was the only person who gave a crap about me, aside from my beloved husband-and sometimes I wonder about that!

Before he could pose the query I stopped him short.

When I was using, and because of the trauma I went through as a child, teen and younger adult, it appears my codependency led me to extraordinarily toxic relationships. I put up with the abuse and control because I assumed I needed these people. I am no longer codependent, and I walked away from every person, every rule, every notion that tells me I am less than.

We are not a part of this world. The more you love Jesus, the more you will want to protect the soul that lies within the flesh.

When you accept Christ you deny the worldly.

“You will find your way to happiness again,” he whispered as he held me close.

He was right, and I have, but my joy has nothing to do with how many friends I have, or who is or is not speaking to me at any particular time. My comfort lies in my salvation.

You see, once you get rid of the riff raff? You are free and clear of any distractions posed by the enemy.

Your creativity will return.

You will not be bound by the limitations others put upon you.

And then? It’s up to you to take your life in any direction you see fit.

Come on people! Get jiggy with it~

The Pill Mill……….

When I was younger, I was appalled at how many pills my mother took.  She was extremely ill, emphysema, cancer, osteoporosis.  She died at 59, after the doctors mistook an ovarian cyst to be scar tissue.  I wish I had known then what I now know.  Mary Lou had every symptom of Ovarian cancer, the extreme bloating, constipation, pain and upset stomach.  When the doctor came in to the waiting room, I had to be held back by my siblings-the jerk never listened to her, I was there when he did an exam after her complaining: he felt her stomach and abdomen-she was fully clothed, why bother right? I was there when he told her she was “fine, absolutely fine.”

What shocked me, after her death, was the bottles and bottles of Ativan-she took 4 a day, and I thought that to be too much, too addicting, too sedating.  Now?  I take Ativan daily.  As a prn.  Ironically, the first time I ever took one was the day of her funeral.  Surrounded by friends, I fell asleep on the couch-and didn’t wake up until the following morning.  What addict is going to turn that away?  It was easier to let the melodic pull of oblivion take me away, to dreamless sleep and few cares, if any.

Today I take 200 mg. of Zoloft, 2 mg. Suboxyne for opiate addiction (down from 8 mg. and let me tell you, it was rough, really rough to taper) and one Trazadone for sleep.   My husband thinks this appalling, but I have fought hard to maintain an appearance of normality-in an increasingly abnormal world.

I can tell you that as a nurse, EMT and hospice worker, I could not get into the Suboxyne program soon enough.  I was in a dirty city, walking the streets of dilapidated houses, children in various stages of undress, and very scary men, who gathered on street corners to deal their goods, help a friend in “need.”  I asked a few of them, but as white on rice as I look?  They didn’t touch me with a ten foot pole.  Looking back, I think they thought me a cop.

I was working as a private duty nurse, and volunteering at a local hospice.  I was starting to face withdrawal from OxyContin, and I didn’t want to be the girl who steals patient’s pills.  My cousin by marriage (not a normal person in that family) ran a methadone clinic, and rehab.  I had attended that rehab until our fearless leader Tony called me out on missing a class, in front of the entire room.  When you quit drinking you are wired out of your mind, so many emotions coming from one heart-it’s maddening and exciting at the same time.  I told him off, asked why he allowed drinkers and cokeheads to use in our meetings (was this even remotely fair to the others who were serious about recovery?) and slammed out the door.  He wasn’t going to use me as an example when people were slumped in their chairs, or re-dusting the entire room, like the energizer bunny on crack.

Anyway, back to Scott.  I called him from my  locked car that very day.  I told him where I was, and I asked if I could come to the methadone clinic to talk to him.  He shut me down, but two minutes later?  I heard a commercial about Suboxyne: it has served me well, saved my career and, most likely, my life.  My advice to anyone starting the program?  Start at a really low milligram, that way you won’t have to detox every time you take a step down.  I ended up calling my girlfriend one morning, I literally couldn’t move, I was that weak.

“I can’t take it.  Would you please take me to the doctor?”

The good doctor had taken me off, cold turkey.  We had argued about my use of cannabis, and I stormed out-only to return a week later, begging for mercy.  And, thankfully, that is exactly what I was given.

What I would like to say is, don’t let anyone convince you to go off of any medication you may be taking for your mental health, especially if the plan is working.  Do I like having to take meds on a daily basis?  NO.  But one day, perhaps, the stigma will stop.  No  matter, because I have come to the point where I just don’t care what others think.

It’s not their body.  It’s not their mind.  It’s none of their business.

Copperhead Road

This is more than likely the most important blog I will ever write: I have chosen to take the coward’s way out-well, I wouldn’t call myself a coward; let’s just say I like blogging on WordPress, and it’s hard enough to write an article about, well, anything-oh the inhumanity, sticking computer keys and the site going down multiple times as I try to get my point across.

I took a hike this morning, per my usual.  I am always leery, after my stalking experience a few years back, and the murders and suicides that take place in our park.  I have eyes in the back of my head, carry mace, a rape whistle, a huge stick and a 100 pound golden retriever.  No surprise then, when I jumped three feet out of my boots after hearing a man’s voice.  He ended up being from Ohio, and Jesse liked him, so I stood and talked.  Yada, yada, yada and he says:

“But president Trump is such a buffoon.”

Cue the music from Damien II.

I guess you know, after yesterday’s blog, how I’m feeling about having to justify Donald J. Trump’s position as POTUS-let alone any stupidity from complete strangers.

I started with just the facts, ma’am.  When I got to the point of talking about HRC and Frazzledrip (you’ll know soon enough, and this subject isn’t up for debate) and then I said:

“JFK, Jr. is alive and well.”

Suddenly, he ended said conversation and ran from the crazy lady.

I lol’d, for about thirty minutes on and off-until I saw the snake.  At that point, the joke was on me, and I ran like a cartoon character, convinced that the bloody thing would follow me henceforth, and slither up my back wearing a Cheshire grin.

We have had no voice, as we (patriots across America, including POTUS) have been avalanched on every side. ABC, FOX, CBS, PBS, NBC and CBS-they are a product of Project Mockingbird. If you watch these news venues, I can 100% guarantee you that you have no idea what the real news is-I only know because of the path God led me down, after a brush with the New Age. Slowly, but oh so steadily the scales were taken off of my eyes. We have been lied to, stolen from, silenced and betrayed on a scale so tremendous that most of us don’t see the forest through the trees. The DEPLORABLES of this awesome nation have had it up to our eye teeth with FAKE NEWS. We know what the CABAL is up to, and it ain’t good. No, it is EVIL of the greatest magnitude.
Below is a video that explains this illegal, deadly and evil process.

Tomorrow, we will be at these polls-across the country Patriots will be monitoring the circumspect behavior; tour groups or random buses pulling into voting booths-we have been alerted to the means and ways of DNC corruption, and we are prepared. I myself will be out and about, have mace-will travel. We need to come TOGETHER, as one nation, and fight the corruption that tried to rob us of our dignity, morals and children in a Sex Trafficking scandal that involves Barry Santoro, HRC, Bill Clinton, Joe Biden and many, many more. The evidence is overwhelming.

Please, do everything you can to get out and vote. As we speak, there are three separate caravans heading to our borders. American troops have been deployed to the border, NOT BECAUSE WE ARE INTOLERANT, RACIST OR UPTIGHT. Absolutely none of that is true for the majority of us. If you want this country to become a corrupt, Socialist, baby killing machine, by all means, vote blue. They want this caravan full of MS13, ISIS, ANTIFA and other terrorist factions here to get the votes from illegals.

Do yourself a favor-take a look at San Francisco–Nancy Pelosi’s territory. She lives in a million dollar mansion-have you seen what they have done to California? Is she or any other democrat with the power to do so cleaning any of this mess up? Of course not, THEY DON’T CARE. They got what they wanted, these people have been used and abused. They were PROMISED the world, and this is what was given to them.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN. Take your country back, put God back in business, VOTE RED.

The Still, Small Voice

If I could give you one word to the wise when it comes to getting sober, it would be this-

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

And where do miracles come from?  God, of course.  Jesus.  Just writing His name soothes my soul.  I’m not preaching, I am stating fact.  If there is anything you need to be a success, it is your relationship with your Lord and Savior.  You may balk, thinking what does she know?

I know everything about the disease of addiction, and I acquired the knowledge during a 12 year journey of recovery.  When first sober, after a stint that resulted in me in hospital, with a cop at my door.  I thought there was no hope, not a sliver of a chance that I could climb out of the pit of despair I had found myself laying in-the bottom, for me.  I had attempted to slit my wrists, and I did a crappy job of it-but I also threatened my husband with a knife over a bottle of wine.  I don’t remember doing this, but I sobered up just as he was telling the social worker, and I cried out-

“Why, why are you lying???”

Thing is?  He wasn’t.

I spent the night, escorted to the potty by a cop, and whatever they gave me knocked me out cold for twenty four hours.  I awoke to the sound of my husband pulling out of the driveway, on his way to work.

I called my boss, sat down and cried.

I was absolutely frightened out of my skull.  I searched the cupboards and found a big jug of wine.  I stood there, on the kitchen chair, and stared at this bottle of poison.  To this day, I believe that I would have taken a drink if it hadn’t been for one thing:  Jesus was carrying me.

I put down the jug.  Too tired to fight with myself, I ascended the stairs and crawled back into bed.  I slept a lot in the very beginning.  Sleep was my only safe space, and my body was working overtime at ridding itself of the toxins accumulated over my drinking career.  I lost fifty pounds, without trying.  I later found out that I should have entered a rehab facility, as I had gone cold turkey.  The withdrawal from alcohol had put my father in a coma some thirty years before.  The irony has never escaped me.

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There were horrible mood swings and a backlog of grief.  I absolutely hated the people that could have a drink and enjoy a night out.  For years I felt as if I was truly missing out.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t miss anything else-the hangovers, the guilt, the drink and dial-but I wanted, more than anything else in the world at that time, to be a normal person.

And that was it, wasn’t it?  The incredible self involvement us addicts are guilty of while using.

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me.

The biggest slap in the face was realizing that not only did I put alcohol before my husband and family, but I put it before Abba.  Somewhere along the line, I forgot the nature of my sins.  I never stopped praying, but I was incredibly selfish and I regret that now.

So, my advice is this-

Take one minute at a time, and take each moment with God, not alone.

Without Him we are powerless.

With Him we are fearless.

There is hope, love, a future.  You are not a horrible person, and as it turns out?  Most alcoholics and drug addicts are incredibly compassionate and sensitive.  We don’t understand the lack of love in the world, it hits us harder than the average bear.  I was 56 years old before I realized that there was evil in this world.  I had no sense of boundaries, as often happens with children of alcoholics.  I truly thought that we were put on this earth to help and care for one another-it was a slap in the face to learn otherwise.

Two years ago I made a covenant between God and myself.  I promised Him I would never take a drink again.  I never promised anything to anyone, because I always fell short, always screwed things up.  So you can imagine I was pretty serious when I made this pact.

The miracle happened when I lost all desire to ever take a drink or drug again.

There is no shame in addiction.  None whatsoever.  It means that you leaned on a crutch like anyone and everyone else.  Food, gambling, smoking, drinking-gluttony is gluttony, anyway you look at it.  But it doesn’t matter in the end.  What matters is discovering what your personal kryptonite is-and then addressing the murderous pain it has caused you.  When you successfully process your grief, you won’t need a drink or a drug.

Stay strong.  Be a badass.  He has you~

 

 

I’m Gonna Kick Tomorrow

 

I love this song, so much so in fact-that I pushed the band’s lead singer off of the stage on my 41st birthday, but not before taking his mic, and belting out this tune.  Sadly, the only words I knew were I’m gonna kick tomorrow…two Grand Marnier and a line of coke later, my husband carried me out of the bar.  Caveman style.

By now, you all know my background.  It should come as no surprise that I have “stories” in my past-but what do we do with these memories?  At first, thinking of anything to do with my partying days was paralyzing.  I cannot stress to you enough that it is a miracle that I am sober today.  The first year brought me to my knees, but it also brought me to Jesus-I have no regrets in some regards.  I regret hurting my loved ones, but I have made my amends.  I don’t beat myself up anymore, as God helped me to let go of the shame, the pain and the blame game.  However, I take very seriously the plight of the sober, those who aren’t yet but desperately want to be sober, and those who don’t think it necessary to get sober.

Saturday, I ran into a man who used to party in my circle of “acquaintances.”  I recognized him, but when I say he looked like something the cat dragged in, I am seriously understating the facts.  Sweet mother Mary and all the Latter Day Saints-I truly felt horrible for him.  He was drunk, and he opened up to me about the death of his brother-who drank himself to death.  He told me Vince was so far gone, that his body exploded in the ER.

His brother, Vince, was instrumental in getting my ass straightened out for good.  He helped friends of mine, who he had admitted to the Caron Foundation (local rehab to the stars) in the middle of the evening.  He would have given the shirt off his back, to anyone in need.  He was sassy and bigger than life.  Everyone loved him.  He had a beach house in Rehoboth, and a beautiful cottage here in Lancaster.  He had everything to live for, yes.  But you know what he didn’t have?

The fortitude to face his pain.

That is the blunt truth of addiction.  We run from everything and everyone who ever hurt us, because we are so incredibly sensitive, so buck naked in this world-we cannot bare to face the reason we began running to begin with.

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I had all but given up hope.  I had no faith in myself whatsoever.  I stopped drinking and drugging because I attempted to end my life after an argument with my sister.

You know who didn’t give up on me?  My husband.

I knew of the power in the Almighty, yet I didn’t trust it.

If you want to live a life of wonder, you have to walk through the depths of hell to get there.  I wish I could tell you differently.

Get help.  There is hope.  Trust someone to take your hand and help you, out of the muck and the mire-for good~

 

 

Born Again

 

Day three of forced captivity, after a few days of ice and snow.  I gave it a try, I really did-but with my knee in the healing process-and not wanting to crack my head open, again, one slip feeding the cats and I was DONE.  I don’t do well with mandatory anything, and I’m quite sure that if I had hiked the mountains of Pennsylvania this morning?  I would be dreaming of a stormy day nap.

The grass is always greener.  That isn’t my nature, though.  I have always tried to make the best of each and every circumstance-sometimes it worked, more often than not-it didn’t.  You see, when you are a victim of emotional abuse as a child, you don’t think you deserve to be treated fairly, be happy, or even loved for that matter.  What I’m saying is, those of us who have faced the crushing despair of abuse are experts at making the most hideous situations look like a trip to Disney World.  This is the very characteristic that makes us such targets for narcissists.  Let’s face it, we allow or better yet enable the bullies for the very reason they abuse-we think nothing of ourselves.  Frankly, we are terrible with boundaries, because there were none as children and way into adulthood. So, what I am saying is this: if you don’t expect good things/people/blessings to happen to a poor sod like yourself?

Think again.

Christ has brought me out of the darkness and in to the most surreal of lights.  I am beyond blessed by a life I never expected, in my wildest dreams, to have.  I praise God each and every day for healing my Lyme, healing my heart, and bringing me home.  It’s hard to put into words, this ethereal lightness of being.  It often takes me way longer than it should, this vision of the tapestry my beloved Abba is weaving in to the very fibers of my life.  We can grow in leaps and bounds if we allow God to do the work, and get out of our own ways.

When you stop judging and start loving as Jesus taught us to love?

Miracles happen~

 

 

 

 

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Time alone is time on my hands and that means I am prone to deep meditation.  This morning, while praying, I saw them-the scars on my wrists from that dreary October evening twelve years ago.  They startled me out of my talk with Jesus, and a tear fell from my face, onto the book I was reading.  I was back there, that evening, and the awakened remorse, pain and shame were too much to take.

I stumbled into the kitchen, feeling it necessary to fix this situation by making brownies.  And I remembered a line I have repeated over and over again,

You gotta feel the feels.”    – Richard Gannon, psychiatrist

I had been on my high horse as of late, judging people like crazy.  Not the people in my life, but the principalities in high places.  The rich.  The elite.  The treasonous.  That’s when God took my hand, and led the way to a breakthrough that has been weeks in the process.

Rather than judging them, how about praying for them?

I’m a survivor because Jesus Christ picked me up when I was at rock bottom-leading me out of the despair, the hopelessness-into a blessed and beautiful life.