Down to the Jordan Stream

One of the very best tunes I have heard in some time-this music soothes my soul.  I love old things: antiques, vintage clothing, the elderly, and I am reminded of simpler ways, kinder times.

Oh, hold on a second!  My husband is lecturing me about my absolute drive to come to the truth about our world, our society, our government.  

“I don’t know why you do it to yourself.”

“By the way, Tom Hanks is a pedophile,” I retaliate.

“Tom Hanks is a pedophile?” (giggle, guffaw, belch)

I say this with a lightness in my heart that hasn’t been seen since the day I married my man.  I know we are winning the war, the insidious little somethings that gradually grow and eventually manifest into full out plagues.  Sex trafficking.  ANTIFA.  Pedophilia.  Corruption.  Hellyweird…it’s getting to the point that people are waking up, and it encourages me.

Waking up was a process for me that, had I known what lay ahead?  I would have run for the hills.

Ah, Lord, I know I’ve been changed; I said Ah Lord I know I’ve been changed.  The angels in Heaven done signed my name-lyrics I relate to, believe me.  Here’s a little secret that I have been holding on to, wondering in what manner to bring it up in my writing-the closer you come to Jesus, the more you love Him?  Well, the more transformed you become.  I knew something was drastically different when I found myself loving my irritating, self righteous neighbor.  I am convinced she sells information about us all around this block, if you can call two square miles of countryside a “block.”

Yes, out of the blue, right after I became sober, the Grinch’s heart began to soften.  It came as a huge surprise because when I got sober-I got good and pissed.  At everything, really-I was a whirling dervish of RAGE and despondence.  Grief had crept up from the grave, and I went back and forth between crippling sadness over everyone I have lost thus far-especially my father-and the urge to beat the living crap out of anyone who even looked my way.  It’s like someone took you blanky, for crying out loud.  EVERTHING bothers you, my husband’s chewing was so irritating to me that I came close to sending him packing.  You cannot, and I REPEAT, you can NOT grieve, well, anything or anyone if you are using.  And when us addicts have to face pain, what do we do?  We medicate as quickly as possible.  Here’s something many don’t understand: alcoholics and addicts are extremely compassionate, empathetic and sensitive.  I know this for a fact.  I also know that I had, out of self preservation, put up an unsightly wall-against others, including myself.

When I was baptized by water last Easter, I wasn’t expecting any change, as I had been baptized as a child.  When I was saved, my life began anew-so I recommitted myself on a Sunday, in ice cold water-in front of a full church.  I was utterly and completely alone-no husband, family nor friends attended.  The air conditioning was on high, and I embarrassed myself by running from the altar, after having my clothing thrown at me by our Worship minister.  Not a pretty site.  Did I mention I had a sinus infection at the time?

Ah, I have totally veered off of my original point.  You will absolutely believe, deep in your soul, that Jesus is in and with you-when your heart begins to soften.  You stop thinking that you are any better/worse than the next guy.  I repeat that often, I am no better nor worse than my brothers and sisters.  You begin to put others first, and might even find yourself wanting to help others every chance you get-and it feels good and right and perfect.  The rage diminishes.  The cravings vanish.  Jesus sought after you, and you allowed Him into your very being.

So, if you think you’re turning soft, or that the hormones are raging-just call out to Jesus-then you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He will answer~

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~

 

 

You Talking to Me?

Nothing like having your smile ripped right off of your lips.

There is nothing in this life that irritates me more than labels. People simply cannot be defined by one trait, be it color of skin or disability-we are multi faceted, and extremely complicated creatures.

And then there’s husbands.

I put them in a category by themselves, as often is the case that I find myself absolutely flabbergasted that I have not, indeed, murdered my life partner and then, as an afterthought? Cut him into pieces.

Sure, it’s funny NOW.

Before you think me full blown mental, please listen to my side of the story. My husband is, shall we say, extremely sensitive. 24/7. This used to drive me to the point of calling my shrink, hysterical because I thought I had done something to displease him. And, back then, I was in recovery from my demons, but also extremely codependent on Dwain.

I let alot slide, trust me. And I only now realize how very blessed I am that he didn’t leave my drunken Irish ass. HOWEVER, there are power struggles each and every day-and it can and does get fugly.

When I’m sick, I don’t get depressed like some-I become hair triggered temper itself, and even my pets walk on eggshells during “my time of the month.” My mother was a screamer, and as embarrassing as it is to admit? Due to extreme duress under which most would be institutionalized -I tend to rant and rave. I am prone to punching the living shit out of inanimate objects, or, say, threaten my cats-in a nice way, of course.

It does take quite a bit to blow my fuse (God has changed my heart as well as my impatience) but every so often the conditions present themselves to be nothing less than a perfect storm. That’s when all bets are off.

True story.

Getting back to the subject of labeling others. I have been emotionally manipulated by the people I love most for a lifetime. My mother excelled in this department, and to this day it rattles my cage-no, sends me into orbit, when my husband practices this malignant behavior. I am much wiser for the years, however it hurts me to the core when he belittles me by categorizing the reasons for treating me like crap. There. I said it.

“Oh, well, you’re stoned so…….”

“Obviously, you’re in a mood, so I’ll just….”

“Never mind.” As if I would break out the machete had he uttered word one.

I admit there was a time when I would beg him to love me, or at least treat me with some modicum of respect. Our faith has transformed our weaknesses, mostly, into strengths and given us compassion for those that struggle with disharmony on a day to day basis. We get it. We do.

Back to what happens after Dwain says something incredibly stupid: I almost always laugh, at first. I laugh because I can’t believe he’s being serious, and because I know it will be my last laugh for days, in some cases -weeks. Case in point: it is 3:30 in the afternoon. He enters the living room and sees that I am content to be writing, even have a smile on my face.

“I want to pack all that shit up, and I’m not waiting until the end of the day to do it.”

He has leverage because my computer took a crap two weeks ago, immediately after my blog about Ms. Belenoff. I do not like being indebted to anyone, especially my husband. Does he really need to pack his computer now? My guess is no, and here we go again.

And here’s the rub-I have a zero tolerance for bullshit of any kind. I absolutely refuse to let things of this nature slide, no one gets away with belittling or manipulating this girl, sorry. This drives him to frustration, at which point I grab my things and isolate myself for the duration.

I know, I know-the bible tells us not to go to bed angry. These words are in my VOWS people. In the 28 years of my marriage I have yet to practice this rule. Stubborn yes, a doormat? Nope.

A few weeks ago our pastor brought this subject up. He preached a lovely sermon about the subject, and the importance of forgiveness.

I can’t tell you I’ll never go to bed angry again, but my God forgave me-He made me as white as snow.

Thing is, same goes for my thug of a husband.

Always, always forgive. Even if it’s a major pain in the anal cavity, forgive.

Down to the Jordan Stream

One of the very best tunes I have heard in some time-this music soothes my soul.  I love old things: antiques, vintage clothing, the elderly, and I am reminded of simpler ways, kinder times.

Oh, hold on a second!  My husband is lecturing me about my absolute drive to come to the truth about our world, our society, our government.  

“I don’t know why you do it to yourself.”

“By the way, Tom Hanks is a pedophile,” I retaliate.

“Tom Hanks is a pedophile?” (giggle, guffaw, belch)

I say this with a lightness in my heart that hasn’t been seen since the day I married my man.  I know we are winning the war, the insidious little somethings that gradually grow and eventually manifest into full out plagues.  Sex trafficking.  ANTIFA.  Pedophilia.  Corruption.  Hellyweird…it’s getting to the point that people are waking up, and it encourages me.

Waking up was a process for me that, had I known what lay ahead?  I would have run for the hills.

Ah, Lord, I know I’ve been changed; I said Ah Lord I know I’ve been changed.  The angels in Heaven done signed my name-lyrics I relate to, believe me.  Here’s a little secret that I have been holding on to, wondering in what manner to bring it up in my writing-the closer you come to Jesus, the more you love Him?  Well, the more transformed you become.  I knew something was drastically different when I found myself loving my irritating, self righteous neighbor.  I am convinced she sells information about us all around this block, if you can call two square miles of countryside a “block.”

Yes, out of the blue, right after I became sober, the Grinch’s heart began to soften.  It came as a huge surprise because when I got sober-I got good and pissed.  At everything, really-I was a whirling dervish of RAGE and despondence.  Grief had crept up from the grave, and I went back and forth between crippling sadness over everyone I have lost thus far-especially my father-and the urge to beat the living crap out of anyone who even looked my way.  It’s like someone took you blanky, for crying out loud.  EVERTHING bothers you, my husband’s chewing was so irritating to me that I came close to sending him packing.  You cannot, and I REPEAT, you can NOT grieve, well, anything or anyone if you are using.  And when us addicts have to face pain, what do we do?  We medicate as quickly as possible.  Here’s something many don’t understand: alcoholics and addicts are extremely compassionate, empathetic and sensitive.  I know this for a fact.  I also know that I had, out of self preservation, put up an unsightly wall-against others, including myself.

When I was baptized by water last Easter, I wasn’t expecting any change, as I had been baptized as a child.  When I was saved, my life began anew-so I recommitted myself on a Sunday, in ice cold water-in front of a full church.  I was utterly and completely alone-no husband, family nor friends attended.  The air conditioning was on high, and I embarrassed myself by running from the altar, after having my clothing thrown at me by our Worship minister.  Not a pretty site.  Did I mention I had a sinus infection at the time?

Ah, I have totally veered off of my original point.  You will absolutely believe, deep in your soul, that Jesus is in and with you-when your heart begins to soften.  You stop thinking that you are any better/worse than the next guy.  I repeat that often, I am no better nor worse than my brothers and sisters.  You begin to put others first, and might even find yourself wanting to help others every chance you get-and it feels good and right and perfect.  The rage diminishes.  The cravings vanish.  Jesus sought after you, and you allowed Him into your very being.

So, if you think you’re turning soft, or that the hormones are raging-just call out to Jesus-then you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He will answer~

I Would Have Followed You

I don’t really like to talk about this subject so much, but the Lord put it on my heart to do so.  At some point I gave this all to God, and I have no intention of taking it back.

For some time now, I have been utterly alone.   I have my Jesus, my husband and my dog-so I suppose you could say it was my decision, or ours, anyway.  In search of an authentic life, no matter the price-I have distanced myself from almost everyone I had truly loved, aside from my good friend Jason.  Anyone who ever used can tell you that that codependent  relationships, especially when the child of an addict is involved.  We don’t just want people to love us, we need them to-and this is where I came to a crossroads in my relationship with Abba:  I had to learn to trust Him and Him only.  

The past two years had taken an emotional toll on me, I admit it.  I finally stuck up for myself with a family member-the results being that we have not connected in two years.  She was the one I told everything to, loved since she was a brat who waked around the house with a nightgown on her head-and screamed at warp volume each and every time my brother and I entered a room.  For years I was in torment over the constant back and forth, months of the silent treatment, the gaslighting and triangulation.

I was in denial, until I phoned her after being stalked in an incident at Middlecreek Wildlife Sanctuary.  It happened in broad daylight, and I was shaken to my core.  I called her and asked her to return my call.

She never called back.  It wasn’t discussed until a year later, the results were the same-she dropped the subject.  Mere months later I would have the most harrowing supernatural experience of my lifetime.  I reached out, told her not to worry if she saw anything on Facebook.  Told her and the fam that I was, indeed, okay.

Not.  Word.  One.

I am over my anger, I am over my heartache, I have forgiven.

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There is no appealing to her sensibilities.  She does not think she has done anything wrong.  We are at an impasse.  Every video and article I read tells me that no contact is the only way to go, but is it?  Perhaps, but what if we went at it like this:

The person whom you feel has abused you has been abused themselves.  More than anything in the world, the offenders want and need to be loved and are terrified of you not loving them.  Realize that they have done the best they can, and before anyone makes a move?  A few ground rules:

Assert yourself.  Ensure the other player understands that you will not be bullied, emotionally manipulated or shat upon under any circumstances.

It’s not about you-it’s about their dysfunction.  You are only responsible for your dysfunctionality.

Make an agreement the past will not be regurgitated like last week’s meatloaf.

Pray for them.  Sincere prayer can and does work miracles.  I am living proof of that.

I believe, as my husband says, that it’s six of one, a half dozen of the other.

But before any attempt at reconciliation, we both understand that in our own ways we love each other fiercely, and would be there in a heartbeat if needed.

In a perfect world

 

Something Keeps Calling Me

I don’t know if I said this before, so I will try and communicate it now:  anything and everything I write that means something comes directly from the Holy Spirit.  My blogs aren’t written off handedly-there is a spiritual connotation, God gives me the song, and when the synchronicity becomes too much to bare?  I cave, and I write.

Right at this minute there is a war going on:  for your soul, your mind and your faith.  God promised us in Revelations that the enemy can’t take your soul, but what would happen, say, if you sold it?  That’s right-to the other team, the spiritually corrupt enemies of Jesus Christ-they are working non stop to control your thoughts, prayers and mind.

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Some of us have known Jesus our entire lives.  It’s not that we knew who He was as tiny tots, but it is my belief that we knew His love from the word go-I am one of these people.  One of my earliest memories is that of sitting on the pot as a small child.

Please let my family be happy, healthy, holy and safe.

How many toddlers come out with that?  And how many knew at a very young age that they were loved and protected by a gracious and loyal God?  My mother raised us in the Catholic church-and if we learned anything it was to FEAR Him.  At 5 years old I was petrified to step on the crack of a sidewalk, as I assumed that it would, indeed, break my momma’s back.  But when I was alone?  In the quiet, by myself I felt  the love of Jesus.  I don’t think I would have managed the childhood drama trauma if I didn’t know that at the end of the day, God was in control.

And yet, as I grew older, I became an anxious bundle of phobias and limitation.  We were raised to be alarmed at anything and everything.  My very own sister was in a high chair until the age of twelve, but that’s another story for another day.  I remember my first kiss, Tom Shunder-the absolute crush of my life.  I was fifteen and knew that I could not tell my mother.  She had actually told me that you can get pregnant from kissing boys-and I believed her!  So there I was, the next day, looking up French kiss in the Encyclopedia Britannica-it makes me sad just thinking about that day.

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If you give it your all, this precious thing called Faith will suffice.  God’s grace is sufficient.  There is nothing to fear.  If something doesn’t sit well with you?  Call out His name.

 

Les Deplorables

TRIGGER ALERT   TRIGGER ALERT  TRIGGER ALERT

Today is the day that Inspector General Horowitz releases the IG Report.

There will be some truth told today, and not a one of us is going to like it, that’s right.  None.  It was Barack Obama’s intent to slaughter as many Christians as possible:  this information can be found on http://www.whitehouse.gov.  

He bought the guillotines (hundreds of thousands)

He bought the black caskets  (millions)

I will provide the proof.

 

 

Sitting here on Slaughter Beach-named after the migratory Horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore in early June.  This is their breeding ground, and I have been told that you can’t kill them, it’s illegal.

And, as I write this?  I am reminded that it is still against the law to kill Deplorables; at least I believe it is.

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I woke early, eager to watch the sunrise over the bay.  Over the last few days I have had predictable, yet disturbing results when mentioning my beloved POTUS.  As a matter of fact, I would have kept my mouth shut, I mean, I’m on a hiatus-absolutely no need or want for drama.  That didn’t occur to me when the couple staying next door ran into us in the driveway.  I couldn’t help but notice he was military, as his army gear spelled it out.  Here was my chance to talk to another Patriot, and I wasn’t going to miss it.

Thank you for your service soldier!  So, what are your thoughts on our amazing President?

“Sorry ma’am, I can’t comment-good or bad-about the president when in uniform.”

I could feel the underlying tension-you could cut it with a knife.

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I was confused and saddened.

Then, a truly enchanting conversation with the neighbor down the beach.  Effervescent and loving, we bonded immediately.  She was a nurse in our home town, and I brought up my blog.  Not politics, my blog.

I hope to purchase a small cottage on the bay, and I believe the president is working on this country’s affluence as we speak.  Things are going to change for the better, don’t lose hope!, I chirped.

With that being said, the woman turned abruptly away from me.

“Have a nice stay,” she mumbled as she ran, not walked, for her porch.

Hmmm.  Maybe I don’t want a house on the beach in Delaware.

Honey, you’re on vacation, give it a rest.

Now I’m supposed to avoid conversation with other humans?  I think not.

Will we ever live in unity Abba?  Will this nation come together and heal, as it did in the days and months after 9/11?

As I headed for the beach this morning, I ran into a lovely man named Kai.  From Sweden originally, but now living in upstate New York-we talked for the better part of an hour.  We really hit it off, so I didn’t think I was out of line when I showed him the video of Michael O’bummer on the Ellen DeGeneres show.

“Now that is what you call anatomically correct.  No doubt, that’s a man.  Holy shit!!!”

He warned me his wife, Lucille, was headed our way.  He told me to avoid politics at all costs:  My wife will eat you for breakfast.  Do yourself a favor.

And so it was, after discussing the removal of our history, illegal immigration and Trump’s tweets-she said this:

“You know who I really, really liked?  John McCain.  Now THERE was a man with balls.”

Before I stroked out, God reminded me that most people continue to watch the MSM narrative.  It won’t be long before the lamestream is out of our faces for good.  But in the meantime?  I will love humanity whole heartedly, despite our differences.  I don’t want to argue, I want to encourage, uplift.  I had to admit it, I loved this woman.

Later, Lucille said this to my husband-

“I simply adore your wife.  Even if she is a hippy who voted for Trump.”

Carpe Diem folks.  Get out there and love someone today!  Find the common denominator, and love the crap out of anyone who shares the ground you stand on.

For only when we come together will we change the world, one day at a time.

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