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~

 

 

 

 

Bible2Cor12_10

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.

Fear is a Liar…

I know this is going to make me sound like a cranky old cat lady, but do I give a flying fig that Simon Cowell was in a bad mood last night?  That would be a resounding NO.  Because the television is my husband’s blanky, I am subject to the most inane bullshit this side of the Pacos.  But that drew my attention, and then I’m pissed because Simon made a little girl cry, and holy melodrama batgirl!  It is an exhausting process.

What do they do, I wonder, to make it so addictive?  I don’t even turn it on during the day, I find it depressing and suffocating in its banality.  Then again, give me a good old Hitchcock thriller and a bag of Skinny Girl popcorn (sea salt and lime please) and I’ll sit in front of the boob tube-no pun intended.

I am sharing a blog from the past, and it is my prayer that someone who is truly struggling reads this, and realizes they are not alone.   As always, I love you.

Be blessed~

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I hope you never know the pain of addiction.  The terror within, knowing you could lose every person you have ever loved; the fear of life without your drug of choice can be more overwhelming that the addiction itself.  Twenty years ago, a reputable (and I lose the term lightly) dentist prescribed me 100 Vicodin, rather than fix a cracked tooth.  I had just had my wisdom teeth removed, and I had suffered a dry socket, the pain affected each and every part of my life-I welcomed the relief.

I just watched my beloved Donald J. Trump give a speech for National Prayer Day.  If he only knew what those words mean to recovering addicts nationwide-I bowed my head in prayer, and threw up my hands to a savior who changed my life-one day at a time.  I don’t think I will ever be able to adequately describe the miracle I am now living; sober, healthy and despite the enemy’s attempts?  Holy laughter fills my weary, leery heart.

Alcoholics Anonymous is a façade: an absolutely useless tool for people who are too desperate to question the twelve step program.  I had no idea, not a clue, until recently when I found my first three chips-one month, one year, five years.  I was cleaning out a drawer, and the spirit within nudged me to look closer.

Do As Thou Wilt

The words surrounded a pyramid.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  Was that the reason I watched friends die, divorce, and relapse over and over again?  I think so.  Satan is the father of ALL lies, and he seeks to destroy you.  Our only weapon against him is Jesus, and I hope you never have to test my theory.

I remember being corrected when I gave my testimony in a meeting one evening.

Don’t say God, just say your ‘higher power,’ it offends people.

That was my last evening in the building.  What I endured in those five years of meetings was nothing short of an onslaught of misery.  The hits kept coming, until the day I decided that life was too short, my faith too strong.

I didn’t need AA.

It is my prayer that God gives you the strength and the rage to get through recovery, which is a lifelong process.  If you are willing to trust in the Prince of Peace?  There you will find your freedom from oppression, dependence and the powers that presently rule this earth.

woman wearing grey long sleeved top photography
You simply cannot fathom how good it gets when you let go of the chains that bind.

Fear is a Liar…

I pissed my husband and my girlfriend off today.  Nothing new, I’ve become accustomed to the rantings and ravings about my beliefs.  Today we have Mueller testifying and those of us in the know don’t even want to watch the shit show.  Lies, lies and more lies.

After today, you will never forget what you were doing on July 24, 2019.  You may wish to forget it, but you won’t.

“Honey, come here for a minute, I want you to watch something,” I yelled at my husband, who was on his way out the door.  God bless him, he did sit down.  I queued up Mike’s video and let it rip.

The results were less than stellar-he all but ran from the house, from his sick and snotty wife whom he believes was born to make his life a living hell.  I cried because that is what I do when I am ill-my woke friend Kat and I are suffering the same symptoms:  belly upset, searing gas pain and pounding headaches.  It wasn’t until she pointed out the tremendous stress we have both been under (no one believes her either) that it finally clicked.  We are both fighting the pull of oblivion, depression and the fact that at any given moment, the men with the straight jackets could appear on our doorstep.

Don’t you dare be frightened by what is coming out-this had been the sitch for decades, and now-due to modern technology via the internet-word gets out much, much quicker than say, whisper down the line.

There isn’t a thing we can do at this point but pray.

Pray for Donald J. Trump, pray for the military and please pray for the white hats that have risked everything to protect your ass.  They love their country, they love freedom fighting and for the most part?  They love God.

We are in control, the Patriots.  There is nothing under the sun that God cannot do.

So kick your shoes off, find your comfy place and watch the Show.

The bad guys are going down, baby.

And that?  Oh that, my friends, is a very good thang.

Here’s an older blog I found about addiction.  There will be many of us wanting to relapse, thinking the oblivion will make it better.

Believe me, it won’t.

Godspeed.  May you all experience a peace that surpasses all understanding.  Jesus is waiting for you to turn to Him.

The choice to know will be yours.  It will always be yours.

*******************************************************************

 

I hope you never know the pain of addiction.  The terror within, knowing you could lose every person you have ever loved; the fear of life without your drug of choice can be more overwhelming that the addiction itself.  Twenty years ago, a reputable (and I use the term lightly) dentist prescribed me 100 Vicodin, rather than fix a cracked tooth.  I had just had my wisdom teeth removed, and I had suffered a dry socket, the pain affected each and every part of my life-I welcomed the relief.

I just watched my beloved Donald J. Trump give a speech for National Prayer Day.  If he only knew what those words mean to recovering addicts nationwide-I bowed my head in prayer, and threw up my hands to a savior who changed my life-one day at a time.  I don’t think I will ever be able to adequately describe the miracle I am now living; sober, healthy and despite the enemy’s attempts?  Holy laughter fills my weary, leery heart.

Alcoholics Anonymous is a façade: an absolutely useless tool for people who are too desperate to question the twelve step program.  I had no idea, not a clue, until recently when I found my first three chips-one month, one year, five years.  I was cleaning out a drawer, and the spirit within nudged me to look closer.

Do As Thou Wilt

The words surrounded a pyramid.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  Was that the reason I watched friends die, divorce, and relapse over and over again?  I think so.  Satan is the father of ALL lies, and he seeks to destroy you.  Our only weapon against him is Jesus, and I hope you never have to test my theory.

I remember being corrected when I gave my testimony in a meeting one evening.

Don’t say God, just say your ‘higher power,’ it offends people.

That was my last evening in the building.  What I endured in those five years of meetings was nothing short of an onslaught of misery.  The hits kept coming, until the day I decided that life was too short, my faith too strong.

I didn’t need AA.

It is my prayer that God gives you the strength and the rage to get through recovery, which is a lifelong process.  If you are willing to trust in the Prince of Peace?  There you will find your freedom from oppression, dependence and the powers that presently rule this earth.

woman wearing grey long sleeved top photography
You simply cannot fathom how good it gets when you let go of the chains that bind.

Trading Places

If I could, I’d make a deal with God, so we could trade places.                                                                                                                            -Kate Bush

I just now picked up on the irony.  The thumbnail on this video is a girl with butterfly wings.  MK Ultra and the butterflies-God never ceases to surprise me.  And it was in utter shock that I heard myself unravel earlier today, on the phone with my friend Kat.

My heart was breaking in half for the people who will have their world turned upside down in a matter of days.  My husband, my beloved tribe, and others I cannot claim to be my own.  How will it go over?  Will there be panic?  Will there be martial law?  Will my family be okay?  When will the healing begin…blah, blah, blah.  Where was my faith?  I truly lost my shit, and that hasn’t happened in a great while.

Every word she spoke was a panacea to my soul.  I went from weeping to breathless laughter in a matter of moments.

Wait until they find out about the royals.  Wait until they see their lizard tongues, then our husbands will believe us!”

Good times.

This is a shout out to those of you in my intimate circle, my brothers and sisters in Christ, what little is left of my family-if I could trade places with you, I would.  I take zero pleasure in awakening before you were to do so, believe me.  This isn’t about me, it isn’t about you.  It’s about the children, the charades, the evil on mind blowing levels.  Everything dark and hidden will be brought out into the Light.  And by the Light I don’t mean the New Age, ascended master version-I mean the risen Christ in all His glory.  He is about to eradicate all evil from this planet.

It’s about good versus evil, as simple as that.

You will hear bad, very bad things about the so called “elite” of this world.  Household names, famous names.  There will be so much news, coming at once.  Even though I thought I joined the Christian QAnon truther community for this very reason-an awakened world on the same spiritual plane, moving together as one?  I am not relishing the coming weeks and months of disclosure.  People will be thrown into the abyss of unbelief, for sure.

Hold onto the people you love and hold tightly.

There is absolutely nothing to panic about, God has this.

Donald J. Trump and his QAnon team have planned this for twenty years.

Trust God, trust POTUS, trust Barr.

The very best is yet to come-at least for some of us.

 

 

Lost, Inside My Own Mind

After a sobering sermon on forgiveness, I find myself searching my heart and mind for relief, release or at least a NOT GUILTY verdict-I discover that I have been looking at many things in the wrong light.

The spiritual director spoke before the band played.  She talked about her granddaughter’s 13th birthday party, planned at a roller rink-50 children were invited.  Only two girls out of those fifty came to the party-her granddaughter was crushed, and she wanted revenge of the eye for an eye sort.  She swore she wanted to go to each and every home that housed the little brats, because these girls responded YES to the invite.

Crushing.  I wept for the little girl, and didn’t stop weeping until the service was over.  I have felt that exact heartache; there is a special kind of pain related to disrespect, cruelty and sucker punches to the gut-it isn’t pretty and it isn’t right, but what can you do?

As of late, I have been isolating myself.  I left our church of four years, ended friendships that were toxic and one sided, even stopped going to exercise class-I blame it on my bad knee, which is partly true.  The other reason?  I have been deeply hurt by no less than three women in that very class.  One woman was a long time friend who taunted me to the point of madness-she belittled, chastised and stalked.  I was honest with her, and no apology was forthcoming, not that I expected or demanded one.  I had hopes for the other two women, a friendship was budding…but these ladies had been BFFs forever, and the one didn’t think too kindly of me butting into the equation.

I had arranged a tea for us this past Winter.  We were having a lovely time until the woman I later learned was insecure and unforgiving, told me that she never attended our local bent and dent discount store because, wait for it…Amish people smell.

“What the fazuck am I doing here?”  The last thing I wanted was another judgmental and unforgiving woman in my life.  I dropped the ball and there it lay.  As much as I needed to get out amongst the living, protecting my heart was much more important.  I haven’t been back in months.  It saddens me because I truly felt at ease with these women, until someone complained about my baking a carrot cake for a member’s birthday.

What is wrong with people?

It amazes me how God works in our lives.  I had thought for years that the women of Schaefferstown were uppity and lackluster, set in their ways and averse to any one or any thing that challenged their black and white view of life.  One particular day I was called out by the instructor as I sat, minding my own business, talking to the woman next to me.

Were you a rebel in High School?”

It happens everywhere I go:  because I don’t care what others think of me, or perhaps because I do, in my own way-I stick out like a sore thumb.  In college I began working at a local restaurant as a hostess.  I sensed the cocktail waitresses and bartender were none too pleased with the new girl-the young blonde with the happy go lucky attitude was shunned-so I turned myself into the dumb young blonde who sarcastically spoke of the customers and employees with condescension and a touch of malice.

Everyone loved her.

I fancied myself an imbecile, too stupid to add up a bar tab, too clumsy to carry a tray of cocktails, too silly to ever be taken seriously.  As an emotionally abused child I learned how to fade into the woodwork;  and now, in my fifties?  I simply can’t risk one more heartache-so I shut myself down, don’t risk putting myself out there.  I have become my mother.

And so it was, as I sat there in the tiny little church in a strip mall this morning, that I began to feel the Grinch’s heart warm up a tad.  I wanted to raise my hand and ask the pastor how one is supposed to forgive seven times seventy without being seen and treated like a doormat.  I truly believe that is why I wasn’t taken seriously to begin with-the old Sara was abundantly loving and incredibly happy, despite all that stood in her way.  The new version?  Hardened, calloused and distrusting of anyone who gives her a sideways glance.  Nothing gets in, yes-but nothing goes out, and that is the point of this blog.

I want my heart back, Jesus.  I miss the girl with open arms and a love for others that couldn’t be dimmed, no matter the beating I took out in the real world.

Oh, what I wouldn’t do to have her back~

 

Hells Bells

This is a reblog of an older post.  I just received news that my “sister” considers my CPTSD at her hands FICTION.  Oh well, I tired, God knows I tried.  Little does she know I have more than one recorded conversation of her admitting everything.  I put her in God’s hands now.  

It is finished.

I don’t have time for her lies, today I celebrate the truth.

Well,hey there, ho there!!! Haven’t been around for a day or two, and that’s because my concussion caused some pretty unpleasant side effects, such as- migraine, dizziness and extreme nausea. Not complaining, as I firmly believe that at the end of every valley is a rainbow so stunning, us puny humans can’t grasp the real significance. And so it was that I awoke this morning: stronger, less nauseous-a better person all around. 🙂

Today is my first New Music Thursday! I will be sharing music which is new to me, so, if you’re thought bubble reads-

This music isn’t new, I’m not smelling what she’s stepping in! Well, say something once, why say it again?

I love their haunting melodies. When it comes to the lyrics, I don’t relate as much as I usually like to: before I commit to the tune, I have to hear the words. In most cases, but not all-The Talking Heads, B52-s, St. Vincent? There music moves me so much that I could care less what they’re talking about.

Then we have Joni Mitchell, Patty Smith, Bob Dylan, Adele-those lyrics hit you where it hurts-and that’s precisely why you listen-it’s all a matter of mood, whether you want to cry in your beer, or dance until you hurt. I’m not telling you anything new.

It occurs to me that music has helped me heal in a myriad of ways: it gets me going in the morning-I seriously can’t wake up until I listen to something uplifting, or intense. Stop Making Sense comes to mind, or anything Depeche Mode, The Smiths. Joni Mitchell got me through my one week marriage, sobriety, and to this day? The occasional crying jag.

I take my depression and anxiety much more seriously as of late. I know when I’m in despair, and this past week has been a roller coaster of emotion. From this moment on, I intend to enjoy every moment of the holidays. I will throw back my noggin and laugh-even in the face of danger. 🙂