False Alarm

I am attempting to get my bearings, as what I have just experienced has left me sickened, without hope or desire.  I am shutting down.  I indeed shut down two days ago, when the latest Holiday loomed, as I had recently let my mother in law know that we would not be attending their Thanksgiving festivities.

And, as is the case with all narcissists, my husband has taken my dread of the Winter months to a new low.  A kick below the belt.  He achieved his annihilation of me by telling me that I had ruined his holidays because I am a selfish brat.

I am out of here, and for the life of me I cannot figure out why I kept forgiving, praying he would change, never hurt me again.  And as per usual, there would be promises made, promises broken.  You see, narcs want your attention-when they don’t get it, they think nothing of the getting the wrong kind of attention.  In all actuality, I was having a peaceful and meaningful day.  The hot shower pelts felt so good on my aching body.  I decided to dress up and even put on the dreaded makeup.  I looked forward to going downstairs and watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

I played Pandora, played with my kitten, even a touch of Chanel No. 5.  I got into the word, and asked for forgiveness for my attitude over the last few days. The lack of food over the last twenty four hours had been a fast of sorts, I supposed, resulting in a clarity and spiritual peace I hadn’t felt in months. I was feeling content, and didn’t mind the loneliness.  As I stepped into the living room, my husband stepped out.  I went upstairs, he came down.  I was thinking he needed his space.  I worried that he was feeling guilty, as anyone would after treating another human being like he did.

Jesus, please speak to his heart.  I don’t want him to hurt.

I went to check on him, and that’s when I was accused of ruining his life, his family, our churches and friendships.  His eyes turned black, the vitriol unnerving.

He did feel guilty, but he projected that guilt on to me, his wife of 30 years, during a time when she was incredibly vulnerable, teetering on the edge of admitting herself to Philhaven.

 

 

 

As we argued, I could see it-the Jezebel spirit, alive and well.  I am voiceless, still sick, haven’t had a thing to eat in days.  My blood pressure goes nuclear, along with my rage.  When I am injured, I am eerily capable of pouncing back-with the force of an untamed Lion-yet today, it was different.

Today I fought back with facts.  In the past, the gaslighting-at the hands of some of the most proficient narcissists know to mankind-I would be confused, caught off guard with the projection.  I was depressed, anxious and my PTSD was triggered each and every fucking time.  I would lay in bed for days, punishing myself when I was the one who needed self love and nurture.  My nature is one of love, compassion and fierce loyalty.  I can be irrationally Irish at times, cripplingly sad at others.

Today was not that day.

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As weak and fatigued as I felt, the lion roared.  Armed with facts, my faith and a raging migraine-I spat back better than I got.

 I have no family, not a soul to spend the holidays with.  I get morbidly depressed at this time of year, and you are fully aware that I will not spend one more moment with abusers.  Yet you care for me by completely ignoring me for two days, while I languish in bed with the flu and withdrawals?

You are blaming me for the actions of your son, who almost put me in a psych ward, and I am to fault because?

Did I hold a gun to your parents’ heads, making them neglect and abuse me; treat me like the most insignificant part of their life?  Did I ask your parents to tell rumors to the neighbors, so I could anticipate the shunning that followed?

I am betrayed and forbade to enter the kingdom of peace.

I don’t know what lies ahead, none of us do.  I will not be a victim, that train left the station, I will fight back with all I have in me.  If that means leaving him for an apartment in the country, just me and my dog, well then?

I pray He will grant me the strength.

I pray that Dwain will open his heart, and listen to the God who loves Him.  I pray for better, brighter days ahead~

 

Hey, Ho

I spent the first forty-four years of my life running from who I was, and more importantly, from what people assumed me to be.  I was the third mammary gland, the outcast, the one perceived to be different.  Women hated me, my family didn’t know what to do with me, and I had a drinking problem so severe?  That sealed the deal on my social status.  Period.

I didn’t realize how truly alone I was until a few years ago, when the bottom dropped and I was left with not a shred of respect for myself.  Codependency issues combined with nonexistent self esteem plagued the inner workings of my mind.  My heart lay in a trillion pieces and the only thing I knew how to do was fight, fight for my place in the world.  I had not one person on my side but my husband.  I gave Jesus the wheel and began the process of coming to life, a day late and a dollar short.  Bloom I did, and I have Him to thank for my awakening.  You see, what was at the center of my dim view of life was my dim view of me.  I just didn’t know any different.

In grade school I was bullied for being overweight.  In high school I was bullied for being anorexic.  Out and about in society, I was persecuted for being exactly who I was-something that can never, ever be taken from me.  That’s right-it isn’t about the likes on social media, the bravos from the secular world, or even what your mother in law calls you behind your back.

Ask yourselves this question:  who am I in Christ?  Better yet?  Ask Abba who you are in Jesus.  He will answer you, and in the darkest of nights He will shed His loving light on the mystery of just how powerful you are as a child of God.

You see, [THEY] don’t want you to know.  That’s right, the elite, the powers that be (God is pulling them out left and right, no, wouldn’t want to be Prince Andrew or Kanye right now) want you helpless, hopeless and unawares.

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How many of you have read Revelations?  One of the reasons I left my last church is because our “Spiritual Director” admitted to me that she couldn’t open that book.

“I am afraid to read it.  I’d rather get a good Rick Warren devotional.”

Feets, don’t fail me now, read my thought cloud.

Revelations is the only book in the bible that can describe to you who Jesus really is, what Heaven will be like, and yes, who you are and how you fit into the Kingdom as a follower of Christ.

And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth.                                                                                                                    Revelations 5:9-10 KJV

What does that mean?

God’s message of salvation and eternal life is not limited to a specific culture, race or country.

Anyone who comes to God in repentance and faith is accepted by Him and will be part of His Kingdom.

God has made His people kings and priests, and nothing in this entire universe is more powerful than one who inhabits the Holy Spirit.

Repeat after me:  I am the Storm.

 

Into His Arms…

I have to start out by telling you I have consumed my happy juice and am a bit crosseyed at this time.  But praise Jesus, for he has given us every herb, plant and fruit bearing tree so that we will live healthy, peaceful lives.  Medicinal.  Used for my CPTSD, it can take me from despair to joy, and that my friends is worth its weight in gold.

I’ve been thinking about what is happening in this world, and obviously, it all but freaks me out.  After watching a video I shouldn’t have, I was overwhelmed-feeling as if the entire three ring circus was on my back.  First sad.  Then frantic.  Then Jesus.

I tell him, Jesus! I am clinging to your robes today, I need you badly!

These are the times when I run, full throttle, all engines on to God.  I picture myself running in to his amazing hug, and hear him say There, there child.

I can’t do this Jesus.

I know too much, why do I know so much and when did you make the decision to take a scaredy cat like this girl, and lead her in the direction of Doom.  Real news.  Investigative reporting.  I have felt the Holy Spirit driving me in this direction, and some days?  Down with the ship I go.

He never pushes, never demands.

I come to the realization that He alone is my Lord and Savior.  He will not leave me nor forsake me.  He is in control.  

I take a long hot shower.  I plug in my tiny white lights strategically placed all over my home, to give comfort.  Put some cinnamon on the stove.  And then He takes me back to who I was before I got clean.  I am profoundly grateful.

I fall into His arms.

Afflictions Eclipsed by Glory

Grief has layers, not unlike the onion.  It creeps up on you, and the realization that you loved this person more than you had imagined hits us in the solar plexus.  As the sons and daughters of a merciful and loving God, we firmly believe that our beloved has crossed over and is now home and pain free.  Yet even in the knowing, we fight the reality that this person whom we adored and perhaps took for granted is no longer by your side, helping you to fight the good fight and ease your burden.  You are better off for just having this kindred spirit in your life.

My dear friend Scott succumbed to cancer on September 22, 2019.  We were very close, and I had cared for him in the last days.  So it came as a shock when my husband phoned me this morning.

“Honey, I have some bad news,” he sighed.

I immediately thought of Scott.

“Umm, he died last Sunday.”

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My breath caught.  Last Sunday?

He spoke his comfort through the phone, and promised to stop in at lunch.

I don’t remember what I did after that, even if just hours ago.  I called a friend and wept, openly.  It was hard for her to make out my words, but her tender soothing meant the world to me.  I ended up on a hike, and to be honest I shouldn’t have been driving.  As I walked I spoke with Jesus, I spoke with my friend.  His wife was never a fan of our friendship-going as far as thinking we were intimate and stalking me two Summers ago.  On his death bed, Scott admitted to me that his wife had emotionally abused him for thirty five years.

“Sugar, you’re just emotional, you don’t mean that,” my voice broke, I felt the sting of fresh tears, this was all too much.

Long story short, he was dead serious.  Towards the end his wife asked that I “STAY AWAY” even as her husband was begging me to stay.  Hospice was long gone, he had no friends or family stopping in-his entire family kept working.

He was helpless.

“Scott, I can’t do this.  I can’t be in your wife’s home against her will.  I’m so terribly sorry,” I wrote in the text.

I’ll be okay.  The last three words I heard.

My heart was ripped apart, I prayed for the Lord to have mercy on him, that he wouldn’t suffer, that his wife muster some compassion for him, not see him as a burden.

I drove to his property, where he had planted a rare maple tree.  I could see the new bench by the tree, next to the pond.  I walked half-way across the yard, then headed back to the jeep-then back to the bench.  I didn’t care who saw me, I put my head down and wept.  I stared as a maple leaf spiraled to the ground.  I grabbed it.  The rest of the day was a blur.  I needed my husband, I didn’t want to be alone.

When Dwain didn’t answer the phone, I broke down.  The only thing in life that remotely frightens me is the loss of my husband.  My entire psyche shuts down at the mere thought of him not coming home.  I rarely have these thoughts anymore, not since Jesus took a good part of my worry away.  I truly do have that peace that surpasses understanding, but I railed at Jesus.

He understood.  He knew that I had mourned the loss of each and every person I had loved in this life.  One by one, my mother, father, best girl friend, and now Scott.  I was estranged from my nieces and nephew-my sister put the Kibosh to any hope of a relationship with them years and years ago. A story for another time.

Kill Jezebel.

I hate myself when I take my pain out on Jesus.  It wrecks me.  My husband pulled in and I fell to my knees-apologizing for the bitter words that had spewed from my fat Irish mouth.  I begged his forgiveness and asked for his mercy.

A few months ago I heard Field McConnel speak about monarch butterflies being a sign of God’s love and protection.  It stuck with me, as there was a monarch out in the middle of Lake Pleasant the moment I spread my father’s ashes.

I had known in that moment it was a God thing.

I walked out on the deck to greet my husband, still sobbing, still unhinged.

My newest adoptee purred at my feet.  She knew something was terribly wrong.  I picked her up and held her close.  She kissed me on every spot on my face, another blessing from above, Maybel is.  I looked down into my garden, and my breath caught again.  A perfect Monarch butterfly, right there before me, and in late September no less.

My tears of sadness turned to tears of joy within moments.  I went back into the house, tried to find the momentum to do, to do something.

Dwain slammed the screen door.  I looked up at him, as if to say, yes?

“Come see.  The garden is full of monarchs.”

And just like that, my afflictions were eclipsed by His glory~

Into His Arms…

I have to start out by telling you I have consumed my happy juice and am a bit crosseyed at this time.  But praise Jesus, for he has given us every herb, plant and fruit bearing tree so that we will live healthy, peaceful lives.  Medicinal.  Used for my CPTSD, it can take me from despair to joy, and that my friends is worth its weight in gold.

I’ve been thinking about what is happening in this world, and obviously, it all but freaks me out.  After watching a video I shouldn’t have, I was overwhelmed-feeling as if the entire three ring circus was on my back.  First sad.  Then frantic.  Then Jesus.

I tell him, Jesus! I am clinging to your robes today, I need you badly!

These are the times when I run, full throttle, all engines on to God.  I picture myself running in to his amazing hug, and hear him say There, there child.

I can’t do this Jesus.

I know too much, why do I know so much and when did you make the decision to take a scaredy cat like this girl, and lead her in the direction of Doom.  Real news.  Investigative reporting.  I have felt the Holy Spirit driving me in this direction, and some days?  Down with the ship I go.

He never pushes, never demands.

I come to the realization that He alone is my Lord and Savior.  He will not leave me nor forsake me.  He is in control.  

I take a long hot shower.  I plug in my tiny white lights strategically placed all over my home, to give comfort.  Put some cinnamon on the stove.  And then He takes me back to who I was before I got clean.  I am profoundly grateful.

I fall into His arms.

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.

After the Lesson, the Blessing

I wrote this blog last Spring, while in the heat of the horrible moment.  Devastated by an argument with my step son, I simply could not see the forest through the trees.  There was never an apology rendered, but I have forgiven Bud and he knows this.  I like to call this phenomena Grace-but really I just did it for myself and my husband.

Dwain, interestingly enough, has not forgiven him.  Yet there have been great strides towards healing, and rather than trying to be his son’s best friend?  He has risen to the challenge of being a father, i.e. no more tolerating arrogance or disrespect.  I believe we are all closer as a result of his temporary insanity.

When God puts you to the test, and you pass with a combination of trusting His wisdom?  Oh my dear friends, this is when the miracle happens:  a peace that surpasses any understanding-inner joy and self love come out of hiding.  Often, the hard part is recognizing the blessing.  With practice and determination, you can take the gifts from above and pay it forward.   Grace abounds, indeed.

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I have been having what some would call “hearing hallucinations,” and I know they are real, as real as the grass in the yard, the puffy clouds on the horizon, and the Spring peepers who cry out their mating call at this time of year.

Okay, how do I explain the inexplicable?  I’ll have to go back to the early days, circa 2013, after an incredibly stressful demolition of our church, by Christian Hypocrites who simply took over, spewed their venom and caused one of our pastors to turn to Atheism.  I was distraught over what I then thought to be the end of my life as I  knew it.  I got sober in this chapel, every single person knew my story and they showed me love and grace, not harsh ostracism.  The travesty is, we were beginning to do some amazing spiritual work……we were in sync, and you could feel the Holy Spirit-lifting us up and out of our day to day lives.  And then:  Kaput.

I began to experience a strange, but lovely thinning of the veil, if you will.  I began finding feathers in crazy places-different colors and hues.  I collected twenty of them and put them in a crystal glass.  No explanation for how they came to be in the middle of my bedroom floor; no cat toys missing pieces, no feathered anything to be blunt.  I did not realize they were feathers from the Angels at the time, no not until the last feather was gifted me:  a large, purple beauty, somehow I knew that this would be the last one, and it was.  I have brought these feathers to bedside vigils, to give others the hope of better days to come, when we are once again home, the complete and unwavering love of God, His mercy and forgiveness.

Shortly after the last feather appeared, I had been toying with the New Age.  I came out of that nightmare unscathed, but now things were getting downright eerie.  Five minutes before I was stalked by a half naked man, causing me horrible PTSD symptoms, I heard my angels wings.  So loudly, I turned around as I expected to see a Vulture, or other huge bird looking at me.  Instinctively, I knew what it was.  I believe I was guided by the heavenlies that day, and I have good reason:  the Conservation Officers were doing their annual trail checks that day, and I had the good fortune to run out of the woods and into the arms of the officer who took the case.

One day, I was absolutely driven to get up off my buttocks and take a picture of my back yard.  It was a dreary rainy day, and there was nothing to see…..but listen to myself I did.  As I brought the camera to my eyes, I saw 6 or 7 white crosses-along the garden plot.  If I took the camera away?  Nothing.  Each time I brought that camera into focus, I saw the white crosses, and I felt protected, if not a little shaky.

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This picture was taken when I was nudged by the Holy Spirit to snap a pic in fog and drizzle.

Yesterday, while getting out of the shower, I heard those wings again.  I knew the angels wanted me to know they were with me, which scared the bejeepers out of me.  What now?  Why now?  I had to sit for a spell and calm myself down.

So, it is evening and my husband and I are preparing dinner.

“Honey, you know if you need to talk about the Bud (formerly known as my stepson) debacle, I know how much you’re hurting.  I want you to know that I am here for you, and if you need to vent, please do so.”

What he said next was so crazy making, so vile and putrid and everything that goes along with the loss of a child.

“I text him, last week.  I jacked him up and he said there will be no apology forthcoming.

No apology?  That man-child stood in my garage and screamed cruel and untrue things, called me a freak, told me the whole family thought I was a freak.  And, as it turned out, he was plenty pissed that I am on SSI, as “it’s not fair I have to pay for her income with my taxes.”`  He was this close to hitting me and when I went to go inside, he came after me and I just waited.  If he hit me, then I could go to court, get a Protection From Abuse-hey, I’ve suffered worse things, believe me.

I have made the decision that he is dead, dead to me for all intents and purposes.

You see, what seemed to irritate him most? That I had suffered CPTSD, and depression.  Apparently he thinks I made it all up; that after owning my own businesses and working (often two jobs at a time) for 40 years, I just decided, as if upon whim, to close shop, be lazy and ruin my husband’s life.  How could he be that cold?

And then the inevitable kick in my aching groin:  “Bud will be at mom’s for Easter, with his gal pal extraordinaire, the woman who was the icing on the cupcake of his disaster, the woman who so eagerly took what was not hers, her best friend’s boyfriend.  Don’t get me wrong, Bud is responsible for his own actions, but being the raging narcissist that he is?  He will never take accountability.  He ruined his own life and he should have thought about that before he let his penis do his thinking.  Sorry, I’m a bit rough around the edges today.

Father, forgive him, he knows not what he does.

She talks to angels, they call her out by her name.