Adrift

In your darkest hours, in your finest grief-this is where Jesus does His absolute bestest ever work.  Of course, when you are adrift in a sea of confusion, rage and betrayal?  You don’t want to think about how strong or wise or ethereal His love-you are way too busy crying, railing or even vicariously throwing inanimate objects at the wall.  Your heart hurts so bad you swear it will break, the tears so salty dehydration sets in.

The lights are out.  There is nothing of comfort, you can’t see your way through the pain.  But here’s the rub:  the only way around the feels is through the feels.  In other words, to quote Richard Gannon, “you gots to feel the feels.”

As I hike the Spicebush trail, I wonder at the miracle that God still loves me, despite my Irish sighing and in spite of my ineptitude. I am an Israelite, awash in the desert of my own making-complaining about this or that.  I catch myself, and ask forgiveness of Him.  I have always had exactly what I needed at every turn of the page.  In recent times, God has blessed us beyond measure-my husband’s new job, my Social Security disability granted, and, more importantly?  We are in love and, for the most part, healthy.

I always turn to Jesus, eventually.  I have struggled with depression and anxiety my entire life.  I wish I had learned to practice this habit much earlier in life.  Perhaps it may have spared me the alcoholism, drug addiction and suicidal ideation.

I wanted to end my life because I thought myself a loser.  A miscreant.  A nobody.

I couldn’t keep a friend, let alone a job.  I knew I was different, that I didn’t fit in, and that for the most part I wouldn’t be missed.  The emotional abuse endured at the hands of the people I loved and trusted the most would prove to be a deal breaker.

I broke, into a millions little pieces not unlike the mess you leave when you break a Christmas ornament.

Shattered.

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I lost my friendships, my family, my identity in Christ.

I thought I was coming out of the woods, and I convinced myself that nothing bad would ever happen to me again because I was a child of God and I figured He’s seen me through the worst of it.

I was dreadfully wrong,

With the help of a mighty God I made it through each and every hairpin turn, but just as I was getting my bearings-another tragedy, another slip into isolation and chaos.  I noticed this, yes, but I also paid mind to the fact that with each and every arrow flung in my direction (the persecution comes from Satan, but God has the control) the more courageous I became.

One evening I called out His name, I couldn’t take another self sabotaging thought-my depression had resurfaced.

Please, Psalm 91…the arrows that fly by night…all that sort of thing.  HELP ME JESUS!!!!

And just as if I were taking out the trash, my body arched-my head flew back.  I had momentarily thought of that lion, the one who roars at the enemy-

I.  Am.  The.  Storm!!!

I.   Am.   The.   Storm.

I roared quietly, then not so quietly.

Together, Jesus and I are building my life back up-brick by brick.  He sustains me by the Living Waters and wipes the tears from my furrowed brows.

And then…I rally my senses, join forces with my soul and pick of my cross.

For I am His and for that?  Oh for that I am well pleased.

I Must be Hercules…

What is up with the folks who say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle?  I mean, even Moses couldn’t handle His mission without losing it, and as a matter of fact?  David deemed himself unworthy for his tasks as well.  Who handles a cancer diagnoses, the death of a child, or even the loss of a career?

Hey, you have the wrong person!!!

We cry out to God, then have the unmitigated gall to suppose that He doesn’t know what He’s doing.  That being said, the world is full of beautiful and very horrible things: the only way, truth and life is literally the only way.

I will be writing about my testimony in an upcoming blog, but for now I want to talk about what we do when our world, as we knew it, comes crushing to a bitter end.  How do we pick up the pieces?  How do we not put a bullet through our skulls, or have the faith that our persecution has a distinct beginning and end?

God will not ask you to suffer indefinitely.  

We need to know that there is always a purpose for trials, persecution.  When I think of how my life has been completely transformed (no, not saying I’m a saint) after a lifetime of abuse, despair and hopelessness?   My gratitude for the peace He has given me knows no bounds.  I mean, I went my entire life without a diagnoses of autism, which looking back?  I still catch my breath when I realize that not one single adult, teacher, doctor or family member caught this?  I grieve for the child and young adult who struggled so badly she turned to drug and drink.   Like my brother says, mom and dad were in the midst of their own struggles, their personal demons.  But how, you ask, how in tarnation can a child grow to become a woman and then some without the skills necessary for a healthy and productive life?

The answer will always be Jesus, no matter the question.

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As we drove to church this morning, I thought of my first day of kindergarten.  My golden retriever, Chipper, was so distraught that after she and mom dropped me off?  She ran back to the school and jumped through the screen window-  this happened twice, and after that she was no longer allowed to accompany us.

To my surprise, a tear dropped down my cheek to my chin, from my chin to my poncho.  I believe that Chipper knew full well that her human had some disabilities.  I also believe God sent her for that very reason, to love and nourish and protect.  She was the love of my life, and it is no surprise that her little brother lay at my feet, Jesse Bocephus Happy Hoffmananoff.  His love and devotion to me is not unlike his predecessors, but Jesse is special in a way that defies explanation; and he has been loyal and true and beloved, during the hardest six years of my life.

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I slowly succumb to the nurturing only Jesus can orchestrate, my sweetest boy at my side.

I marvel at what my beloved Jesus has brought me through-yet I know that this newest storm will not be the last.  As followers of Christ we will know the pain and isolation Jesus knew at the foot of the cross.

There is a beginning and an end, the pain does not endureth forever.   If we pick up our cross with the foreknowledge that we have the Holy Spirit in the stead of Jesus, and what the power behind that truly is?

We can do all things through Christ, who strengthens us.

After church I did some researching and finally reached out to a complete stranger on Twitter-I know I was led to him, because he gave me answers to questions that have plagued me for the last few years.

John F. Kennedy, Jr. is dead.

Dwain find me in the kitchen, regrieving Junior’s death, and beating myself up for my lack of discernment when Jesus whispers-you had hope, there is nothing wrong with hope.

The stranger tells me I should take a break, leave the truther community for a bit.  I am pondering this when my husband runs into the house.

You are NOT going to believe this!!!!

It is 42 degrees here in Pennsylvania.  My husband had given me a set of dragonfly and lights, of the solar variety.  I keep it outside during the day to charge, then bring it inside for the light show at night-red, blue, violet, yellow, red, blue…so surreal.

“Look honey,” my husband says.  “I was getting your light out of the garden and look what flew out of the ground!”

With that said he released the most beautiful red dragonfly.

This is how it has been for years-His presence made visible through the eyes of a child.

Uncontainable

I had a fabulous day today, one I had anticipated with dread.  Errand running takes me out of my comfort zone-there are days when a simple phone call takes too much energy. If you suffer from depression or CPTSD, the idea of doing anything that involves people can rob you of your joy; especially in today’s world.

God has a way of rewarding us for entrusting our days to Him.  Today, oh today I was blessed by a hike by the living waters, a beautiful day and the perfect Jonigold apples.  None of this would have been possible had I isolated.

Some days, all it takes is a really good laugh to get me going in the right direction.  Today was one of those days:  Jesse in the back of the windowless jeep, we pass a farm.  I am paying no attention to the scenery-believe me, I can only do one thing at a time, and I don’t combine driving with, well, anything.  With no warning whatsoever, came the siren call that can be heard when living out in the country-

Mooooo!!!  Moooo!!!  Mooo!!!

Good Lord it sounded as if the entire herd were in the vehicle with us.  Jesse jumped, I screamed.  Two seconds later I my sides were splitting, and the world was turned right side up once again.  I guess you had to be there, sigh.

After doing my chores, I took a hot shower and dressed.  The awkward feeling of melancholy was taking hold once again.  Have you ever been lonely, but known in your very gut that other people were not the answer?  Well, I knew, and I searched within to see where the gaping wound was festering.

Most of the people I have deeply loved are gone, passed away.  The very few I do allow into my life are treasured, don’t get me wrong.  It’s just that I have lost, for the most part, the people that loved me for who I was.  The soul ties are missing from my life, and as with any other burden, I turned to Jesus for comfort.

People in these parts either love me or loathe me.  The fact is?  If you are your own person, and especially if you have picked up your cross and given your heart, soul and mind to Christ?  You will be, and no specific order here-shunned, attacked, gossiped about and yes, loathed.  It’s up to you to decide how to handle this.  My approach is to try and fellowship with as many of my brothers and sisters as my PTSD will allow.  I have tremendous trust issues, and sadly, most of the monsters I have had the displeasure of knowing I met in church.  Fact.

After a tear or two, I went downstairs and dove into the Word-it did not disappoint.  I am coming to the beginning of Revelations, a book I have never been able to complete.  Reading about the false prophets John warns us about, the end times gurus, New Agers and Buddhists.  Sorry, not stepping on toes.  I believe the only way to God is through Jesus Christ, who was crucified on a cross on Calvary, and he alone is the way, the truth, and the life.  Umm, it says so in the Holy Bible.

I can tell you that I was really upset last week when BOOM, out of nowhere, my 3,000 followers on my twitter account was down to zero.  I had worked on some of these friendships for years, and to be frank I was enjoying a following of sorts.  John F. Kennedy, Jr. was a follower, and man, I had to be vetted my brother!  Dare I say it?

I was proud of my Twitter page.

Oh saints preserve us, how could that be?  I never wanted a big following, wasn’t in it for the numbers-it was my good reputation in the Truther community that meant the world to me.

Okay.  Two sins right there.  We are to show no pride in ourselves, but give the glory and honor to God.  At what precise point did my reputation as a journalist come before my love for Jesus? (No false Gods) I mean, I was addicted.  I do miss the friendships, but God knew what he was doing!  He knew I was done with that phase in my life, and that nothing good could really come of an addiction, especially in my case.  I have freed up hours of time to read the Word, to be with Him.

Plus, my newly conquered, or so I thought, codependency resurfaced via the little blue bell that told you people liked you!  They heard you!  They even, some of them, loved you!  Alas, social media is not the real world, it is a subversive fantasy island and why preach to the choir?  It’s not like I was getting my point across to the other side because your feed is full of who you follow.  It was toxicity itself.

Have you slowed down enough to see and hear what the Holy Spirit is whispering to your heart?  Are you giving yourself the TLC your beautiful body and soul require?  Caught up in the secular world and can’t get out?

At least for me, the answers came in the quiet.

And for that?  Oh for that it is well with my soul.

 

 

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~

 

Chimes of Freedom

I had meant to publish this on the Fourth of July, but for some reason it lay dormant in my drafts file.  I am incredulous at how Jesus has kept me strong through the darkest days of my life-but I know, as I know my surname, that He never, ever left me.

I haven’t written as I’ve had no inkling to, and I try not to force myself to do more than I already force myself to do.  OCD, it’s a silent killer, man.

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We weren’t in the door after a trip to the beach, when I received a text from my dying friend, Scott.  Actually, it was from his wife, whom I correctly assumed despised the absolute crud out of me.  Pure, unadulterated hate.

STAY AWAY  STAY AWAY

My friend and I had said goodbye about a month ago.  He had told his wife that we had a special bond-which added to her ire, I am quite sure.  You see, Scott and I weren’t allowed to see each other for two years, because she thought we were having an affair. She would drive by my house frequently, and when I happened to run into him he acted as if he was being chased by the Nazis.  It made me sad, to see him so isolated.  You see, I knew back then that his wife was a narcissist-but not to the level I have learned, and the hard way.

When I dropped by that day four weeks ago, Scott warned me about coming around.  He was very frank about his wife’s disdain.  We rode on the golf cart, around his beautiful acreage, where he pointed out the area where he had thirty dozen tulips planted as a surprise for Sherry.  We wept, and spoke as one does in a situation like this.

My friend was alone and terminally ill.  He told me his wife had pushed his entire family out of their lives, the same with the kids and any friends he may have loved.  He was utterly alone.  The news that I could never come back to the house hit me hard.  I wept for three days.

As fate would have it, my husband insisted that I sit down and talk with Sherry alone.  I had no desire whatsoever, after the dozens of previous conversations that did nothing but give her supply, and make an ass out of me.

And so it was that we ended up stopping in, at Dwain’s insistence.

She’ll be fine, he said.

She won’t be there, I said.

Scott text me to come before three, when Sherry would be home.  We came before three, and if you could have seen the look on my face?  You would have thought I had seen the Boogey Man, right then and there.

And so I talked to the wall again, and she blamed it on Scott confusing his thoughts.  Then she asked if I would like to care for him three days a week, and I foolishly accepted.

Long story short?  The sorrow in my heart for him waxes profane.  I am helpless and so is he.  I pray he goes home quickly, he has suffered far too much in his life, married to an emotionally abusive ice cube who taunted and ridiculed him for thirty five years.

I can give it to God, which I have.  And one day, oh one glorious day?  She will have to answer to the Most High.

Damnit, I wish I could be a fly on that wall.

Below, the blog I wrote on July 4, 2019

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I don’t care how strong or stoic you are; when it comes to your heart, or the breaking of it; your grief will find its way. Losing my ability to run from my emotions today, I finally let go and cried on my golden retriever’s neck-is there any better place for waterworks? Your canine/feline’s neck? Sigh.

The fall weather makes my heart sing-I love the cool air, the life transforming sunsets, and the harvest of a hard Summer’s work. Everything, from hay rides to pumpkins-it’s all good, I treasure every day. Big blankets, cinnamon burning on the stove, my pup at my feet. A Holy Bible. A Dean Koons. A warm cup of cocoa next to the fireplace, even if it is just gas. Our wood stove in the kitchen, cranking out heat so strong I walk around buck naked some days: the hot flashes don’t bode well with my husband’s desire to warm his feet, which have no circulation due to frostbite obtained in a long ago hunting trip.

My day turned from glorious to harsh reality in ten seconds flat. While hiking at Speedwell Forge, a beautiful but far away place. We go there maybe every two weeks, and due to recent flooding-we hadn’t been in months. Halfway through the trek I took out my cell. A screen I had seen only once before appeared; some sci-fi looking alert. I couldn’t turn the stupid phone off, and I was set to take pictures of an ethereal waterfall. I knew I was being targeted, and I was wild.

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I took my phone apart and head out towards the jeep. I was furious. Speech is not free in America, and hasn’t been for some time now. If you have a voice that goes against the mainstream media, you will be silenced. Period. Not only will they shadow ban on social media, but they will fuck with your electronics until you’re at the point of pulling your hair out. Literally.

Do you have any idea of how long it takes me to write a blog? Hours. The screen will go blank just as I am getting going, suddenly I will lose my work-even after I have saved it. It sounds silly, but after two years of this crap, I am beyond angered, frustrated, homicidal. Okay, not homicidal, but seriously?

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I have taken on an assignment from Jesus. For two years I have been led, by the nose at times, on a quest for truth. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS (the deep state contains more than a few Republicans, Mike Pence being a satanic, POS pedophile himself-and yes, I have proof)and due to the successful mission of Project Mockingbird-the media is full of CIA operatives, who are trained to “brainwash” the lowly general public. I will write more on this subject, and include research affirming my statements.

The point of all of this is that while I have no choice in the matter; while I don’t go down the rabbit holes with any joy in my heart; the fact is, this is how God wants to use me, in the here and now. He has been preparing me for such a time as this. Losing friends and family has been hard on my psyche, and three are days when the loneliness and isolation leave me breathless and weeping.

No. I didn’t ask for any of this, but I sure as hell fire will do my very best, to be the hands and feet of my Lord and Savior, Jesus.

Les Deplorables

Sitting here on Slaughter Beach-named after the migratory Horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore in early June.  This is there 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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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