Homeward, Homeward

So love the one you hold, and I will be your Gold, a lover of the LIGHT.         – Mumford and Sons

After the dust settles, and you have cried your last tear, who do you turn to?  Where do you go?  What do you see?  I can tell you what I used to see-bleak, dank and dreary darkness.  My CPTSD and depression were so bad, and yet I didn’t understand why, still don’t.  I don’t understand, but mine eyes have seen the glory, praise God.

Becoming a Christian (meaning giving your life to Jesus) does not guarantee happiness in the present-it does, however, guarantee joy in the future.  The peace that surpasses all understanding can be yours, but that is up to you.  The hardest thing I have ever done is to let go and let God.  Frankly, many a time have I ranted and raved; cried like an insolent child, even threw my bible across the kitchen a time or two.

When John the Baptist paved the way for Jesus Christ to enter, stage heaven, he was eventually murdered.  John’s role was to baptize Jesus, a role he deemed himself not worthy of-until God gave him a good talking to.  John ate weird stuff and wore weirder clothing, but he was the perfect man for the job, and Yah knew this.

What am I?  The whipping post, the martyr, the punching bag?  Why is this happening to me?  Don’t you love me Jesus?  Why can’t I see you in this desert place?  Where have you gone, my Lord, my Savior?

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This is often the case with His children.  The Israelites were given manna from the heavens, protected throughout the wilderness, yet they still thought they had the short end of the stick.  Looking back?  I wouldn’t be stronger, wiser or more faithful had my life been easy.  Don’t get me wrong, I have had and will have enough joy in my lifetime to carry me through.  I’ve had a good life, and prior to being born again?  I had a wild life.

The stories I could tell you.

Oh, that’s right, I have.

In a letter to the Colossians, Paul writes:

And you, that were sometimes alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now hath He reconciled in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy and unblameable in His sight.

No one is good enough to save himself.

If we want to live in eternity with Christ, we must depend totally on God’s grace.  You were given a choice from birth, and although God wants you to make the right choice, He will not force His hand.

Cry out to Jesus and give Him your life.  I promise you, things will change.  You will be filled with the Holy Spirit, you will learn what love is-from a mighty and unfailing Savior.

How to Pray for Other Christians:

  1.  Be thankful for their faith and changed lives.
  2.   Ask God to help them know His will.
  3.  Ask God to give them spiritual wisdom, and understanding.
  4.   Ask God to help them live to honor and please them.
  5.   Ask God to give them more knowledge of Himself.
  6.   Ask God to give them strength for endurance, and patience.

Ask God to fill them with joy and thankfulness.

And when you are in the depths of despair?

Shout to the Lord a joyful noise!

 

Are You a Targeted Individual?

 

I don’t even know where to begin, so many thoughts and emotions, so little understanding until I heard this man speak earlier today, as I watched the rain pour down like buckets-God’s tears, I imagine.  That or the powers that be, fucking with our safety-all in the name of depopulation.

Depopulation and rage, that is.  You see, the enemy is shaking in its very boots as we speak.  In one week I have witnessed the unraveling of the monster Jeffrey Epstein, discovered that M.J. is indeed alive, and a vice president going down in the flames he so richly deserves.

Mike Pence is a pedovore.  Not only does he rape and murder children, he is involved in sex trafficking, satanic ritual abuse (I refuse to capitalize it) and cannibalism.  That’s another fifty blogs in itself, so I’ll get to the point.

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The above is over a year of QAnon information, gathered by President Trump and his team.  This is not debatable, these are the hard and gruesome facts.  So, added to the stress and ostracism afforded all God fearing patriots who love their president?  Let’s add the targeted individual into the mix.  Feeling queasy yet?

This is for those of you who have fought the good fight, stood your ground and spoken your truth for the last three or so years.  We are God’s anointed, and every bit of evil will be eviscerated from the planet earth.

Take note you demons, you Jezebels and fools:  we’re coming for you.  And we have God Almighty on our sides.

Move over, bitch.

Guard Your Heart

Nothing better than Lucinda when you’re feeling…why, I don’t know what I am feeling, exactly.  A bittersweet mix of gratitude, prayer and high anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It is becoming obvious to me that some of us woke folks are starting to show signs of battle fatigue.  Some are losing their cool, and others (we are all in different stages of discovering the truth) are losing their religion, literally.  When you realize that the Pope is a satanic pedovore, that there is a dungeon in the Vatican, where they sacrifice children to satan-or that Hillary Rodham Clinton is actually in the exact same league?  Not only are you mustering up each and every crumb of courage in your body, but you are being traumatized-over and over again.

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Until I met my friend Kat, I didn’t realize just how far removed I have been from society.   Oh, I have a handful of extremely close friends-but I can count on one finger how many of them know the truth.  And she pretends she doesn’t when her man is around, so, yes, I would say I am very much alone, but didn’t fancy myself lonely until today, on the phone with Katherine.

“I saw the picture of the child that Hillary raped and murdered, Sara.  A woman on Twitter sent it to me, and I can’t sleep.  I can’t believe I saw that picture…”

We spoke for over an hour, taking great solace in the company of another soul who sees reality for what it is, and not what they want you to think it is.  Another human who has broken through the programming we have all had aimed at us since birth.  That’s right:  they have brainwashed us via music, movies and news-nothing, and I mean nothing is as it appears to be.

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What hurts us both the most?  The cold shoulders, family interventions, wide eyed stares into the abyss-each and every time we open our mouths.  She fought with her husband last night, and her family made her promise not to talk about John F. Kennedy, Jr. again.  You see, she had told her entire brood that he was going to be at the 4th of July festivities, not unlike my experience last Thanksgiving, when I announced to Dwain’s entire family that John would be in the Macy’s Day Parade.

“I’ll never make that mistake again,” I told her.  

Just moments later I realized that I had told you, my 400 followers! that John John would come out in Washington, D.C.-on the fourth of July.

“Shit.”

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Here’s the deal:  we wouldn’t risk everything in our lives, be it our family’s trust or the job we love, for some whack job’s conspiracy theory.

We know shit.

Things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, but there is little we can do to spare you the pain we know so well.  God will do that.

And as much as it irritates the shit out of me?

We’ll be here when you need us.

Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell

There is a frenzy, a terrible excitement in the air.  Tomorrow is Donald Trump’s 4th of July celebration-and there are some of us (okay, a ton of us) who are hoping for a big reveal, and we are hoping that John F. Kennedy, Jr. is the surprise.

Oh, you say, my God that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!!  At least that is what my sister in law said to me last Thanksgiving, after I announced that John would be attending the Macy’s Day parade.  I waited all day to throw it back in her face, but nothing came of it.  Some say he was Santa in another parade, but that wouldn’t have helped.

“Look!  Look at that television!  I am telling you that the Santa on that float is John F. Kennedy, Jr. himself!  How can you NOT see that?”

Nope.  I’ve been butt hurt enough lately, no thanks.

So, I have been keeping all hope at bay, as the Q post that stated that John isn’t alive pissed me off beyond all logic and reason.

“It’s a betrayal on the largest of levels!,” I wrote to Joe M., a dude on Twitter who was calmly trying to tell me to get bent.  It hurt, and it hurt much more than I thought it would or could.  In the past two and a half years, the patriots have been maligned, censored and shunned; given disinformation because damnit that’s  how military intel works, and and woke above and beyond the call of duty.

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Why are YOU screaming, bitch?  At least you can walk down the street without being assaulted, or worse.  I mean, STFU ya snowflake.  Can you feel me on this?  If people would just calm the F down, and do their own research!!!!! there would be much less TDS, and much more healing of this country.

I felt a buzz about me throughout the day, it was electric.  I had more energy than I have in years, and my man even spoke about what a great mood I was in-that never happens.  I have been praying and questioning and searching my soul.

And the Holy Spirit led me to this video.

I know who won’t be sleeping tonight.

John, I pray an army of angels protect you and your family.

We will never fully know the sacrifices you made for this country.

Your father’s death will be avenged~

 

The Living Waters

Those of us with mental health issues (I suffer from CPTSD) are in the spotlight right now, as violence escalates around the globe.  There is a distinct difference between mental illness and brainwashing via MK Ultra, and in that spirit I dedicate this blog to all who are stigmatized, pigeon holed, persecuted or worse-because of circumstances often beyond their control.  You are my heroes: it is through extreme adversity and gut wrenching pain that you face each and every day.  It is my prayer that you are choosing healthy coping mechanisms and that Jesus is your Lord and Savior.  If not, I encourage you to follow my blog-not for me, but for you.  I’m not in this for a huge following; I am here to be the voice of comfort, reason and truth that I believe God has called me to be-a beacon in a time of darkness.

Please understand that I have never taken credit for my writing, whether you love it or hate it, the content comes from the Holy Spirit:  he speaks to me in different ways throughout the day.  By evening, I am writing-my version of what I believe to be Spirit-led writing.  I am what they call a sensitive-Abba has given me the gift of spiritual understanding.  Only in the past three years have I been aware of this gift from above-but I can say that I have struggled through tremendous adversity (but always under His loving protection) I believe that having lived a tortured life has led me to a greater compassion and love for others.  Sadly, my CPTSD makes it incredibly difficult for me to trust others with my heart and soul.

So, I don’t.

I have been texting my brother as of late.  We discuss political and social issues, and today I sent him a video from Abel Danger-explaining the spiritual warfare and global reset.  He has had trouble believing much of what I have written on the subject of our amazing president Trump, the Plan, or the Great Awakening.

So, my sister was one of the narcs who stopped just short of killing me.  I haven’t spoken to her in years, although I do pray for her.  One thing I’ve learned over and over through my many perpetrators is this:  if you don’t go no contact?  You are setting yourself up for greater pain, dysfunction and even severe health complications due to the constant stress of gaslighting, triangulation, projection and abject cruelty.  Even a short conversation could lead to a triggering of emotional flashbacks so severe, that it takes me weeks to come back to myself.

So, my brother lives in LA.  My sister lives in PA.

My husband called me in to see my niece Esme’s Instagram.  I looked down to see my brother on a scooter, but the voice in the video?  It haunted me.  Something is wrong with that tone, the insincerity-a false sense of excitement.

“There you go, Craig, you’re doing it!”  I insisted to my husband that it was my sister’s voice.  He balked.  He played it again and heard my brother in law’s voice at the end of the clip.  I took off into the kitchen, adrenaline pumping, anxiety rising.  I opened the frig door, and stared blankly into space, closed it, opened it again.

A few moments of despair, and it was over.

“Life is too damn good,” I said to myself.

Thus the end of the trauma.

Thank you, Jesus-for the head’s up.  And more importantly?  For walking every step of my  dark and lonely journey back to peace.

Come to the Living Waters, and drink from the cup of Life.

 

Sooner or Later…

 

I adored this man, and here’s why:  not only is he the voice of a bygone generation, but Johnny had demons, just like you and me.  It is truly our choice, God gave us free will-we can either be the light, or join the bottom dwellers in their plight to destroy everything good and decent in our lives.

My sibling took everything she could from me-then took some more.  She put me through hell, and in return I loved her with my heart and soul.  She had her day in the limelight, sure.  She had three children and achieved an Associates degree in business.  She had the power in our relationship-I turned to her for everything.  Up until the masked slipped-hell it fell right off of her lovely face.  Little did I know that I would pay dearly-I was the bullseye for 28 years, and I am quite sure that she enjoyed her mission-that is the tragedy of Narcissism.

So, we have established what a narcissist is and does.  Now it’s time to turn the tables: we have the ability to take that power back, but it comes with a price.  The ransom?  My sister used her children like downright puppets-she withheld them from me as a means of discipline-if I didn’t ask how high when she said jump?  I was doomed to a holiday, Summer or even a reneged invitation to Thanksgiving, even Christmas.

All of that pain and heartache are in the past now, and I have learned to celebrate life again.  I now know that even thinking about her or any other member of my dysfunctional family brings not only pain, but self harming and risky behavior.  The lonesome dove can only be shot out of the sky so many times before she learns that it may not be such a great idea, this flying willy nilly.  She learns to alight only where she is loved and appreciated, validated and accepted  for exactly who she is.

I am finally at the point where I have suffered enough.   I am not a martyr or masochist.  I am a loving, faithful and quirky writer who loves nothing more than reaching out to encourage others:   that is what I will do, until I am unable to summon the energy.

Here’s the deal:  once you have “lost” all that you deemed an absolute necessity (healthy people almost always treasure the family God has given them.  Narcs want to punish you for being smarter, more creative and especially that nasty trait of compassion for others.  Here’s the deal, Jezebel, I don’t care….nope, not anymore.  You are probably thinking, ‘if she doesn’t care, why is she writing about it?

I remember my first year of awareness, and I know how crushing it can be.  Yet I am here to tell you that you will heal, that it most certainly does get much better, and that God will not let these vipers go unpunished.  I’ve read some pretty, pretty strong verbiage in the Holy Bible about what happens to these people, and let me tell you-sooner or later He’s gonna cut them down.

Do things for you.  Rewrite your story, make it one in which you are more than a victim.  Your creativity will return in leaps and bounds.  But you must do something first:  let go and let God fill your life with joy and a renewed wonder.  Throw out the things that are no longer necessary:  guilt, shame and victimhood.

I am sitting pretty, and the view from up here is amazing.

Love to you all~

 

Insane Like Me

Narc Abuse…I write about it often, but as it turns out, I am far from the only expert in this cozy little town. As a peace offering, my friend Sheila asked to take me to lunch yesterday: I had a gift for her as well, a gorgeous, porcelain angel who looks down on a mother and her son. Sheila lost her son to a motor cycle accident two years ago; her only child, it has forever changed her direction and focus in this physical realm. I knew this about her, yes. What I didn’t know was the extent of abuse she had experienced as a child-at the hands of an evil and narcissistic mother.

I thought I owned victimhood: as it turns out, Sheila’s story is so much darker and poignant than mine. Her mother beat her father within an inch of his life one Summer afternoon before Justin’s accident. As my friend was dropping by to visit, she walked into a scene so paralyzing, well, I am surprised she had the strength to revisit the pain. Her mother had taken a lipstick and scissor to her own wedding photos, as her father lay in a bruised and broken heap on the floor.

“I am calling for help, daddy,” she screamed, hysterical and in shock.

“IF YOU PICK UP THAT PHONE, I WILL KILL YOUR FATHER.”

Sheila rushed outside, called Crises Intervention, had her mother institutionalized. After ensuring her father was receiving good care at the local VA hospital, she went to sign papers at the psych facility that whisked her mother away, against her will-in the middle of the night, straight jacket et al.

I have known this tender hearted soul for twenty years. She has driven me batshit crazy in seven different languages: with her low self esteem and suffocating neediness. Recently, an argument over something trivial and her psychotic response led me to believe there was no hope, no hope whatsoever for our friendship. God had other plans, and for this I am hesitant, but willing to forge ahead.

You are not alone, you are surrounded by victims of perps that were family-the absolute worst kind of betrayal. You won’t see these people screaming from the rooftops of pain and remorse. No, you will find them loving others, the encouragers and empaths, clinging to Christ-in the churches, schools and hometowns of America. You couldn’t possibly know their stories-how could you?

Love others as you would want to be loved.

Something wicked this way comes.

We need one another, desperately.