Tears Dry On Their Own

 

I don’t understand, why do I stress the man? When there are  much greater things at hand?                                                                                 -Amy Winehouse

 

I had a bad hair day, and as I lick my wounds, I will do what I am wont to do when grief, of any kind, beckons. I turn to my writing, and process best I can.  I spent my former life running from anything “feeling.” As a result I suffer a backlog of grief.  I have worked through so much, the glory going to Jesus, who has shadowed my life, since childhood.  And of course, it was the Prince of Peace I turned to-after a hike and shower did nothing to shake the chill of a sadness I could not name.

I hadn’t felt this dull malaise in a long time.  The full moon always takes a toll on my psyche-I suffer a bizarre change of attitude at this time of the month, and it just happens to coincide with my period.  No, it’s not pretty-trust me!  I don’t relish having the temperament of Medusa on crack, but hey-who am I to question?

animal avian beauty bird
Pexels.com

I think we all have our codependency days.  Days when you’d be happy if your monster in law called you-just so you know you aren’t invisible.  This morning I checked my blog stats, and although I’m a big girl with a medium-thick skin?  Well, let’s just say I awoke to no texts, Facebook notifications, phone calls or fuck-yous.  As the morning went on, I had the unpleasant task of having to pick something up at my in laws home, conveniently located directly across the street.  Insert hair pulling here.

I spotted my monster, standing out on her front porch.  I told the dog to stay, and yelled my intentions, hoping she would hear me, so I wouldn’t have to knock on the door and go through the whole, sordid pretense.

OMG, WE HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN WEEKS, LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY MOST RECENT PURCHASE, THIS DISH CLOTH-CLEARLY THE MOST SUPERIOR DISH CLOTH THIS SIDE OF THE PACOS, AND LOOK!  IT MATCHES MY COFFEE POT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Nah.  I’ll pass.

But something really weird happened.  She. ran. from. me.  I knew this to be true, because I have the moves of a full out ninja when it comes to avoiding my in laws.  I know all the tricks.  As I walked down the road, she walked faster.  I approached the front door, and knocked.

No answer.

She reappeared after I had returned to my home, picking weeds in a garden that is frozen solid.

Now, on good hair days this would not have phased me.  However, as the possibility of my invisibility grew, I was actually offended.

Later in the day, I phoned a girl friend to see if she’d be going to aerobics class.  She never returned my call.

These ridiculous nonissues prevailed the entire day.  I got good and quiet with God.

“What’s wrong with me, Abba?  Where is this over sensitivity coming from?  Where’s my self esteem?  Remind me of who I am in You.”

Tears dripped down my cheeks.  I knew this feeling only too well, although I hadn’t felt it in some time.  I have found myself in the midst of pain and confusion, as I wonder aloud why I had allowed it to happen.

My best friend is a narcissist.  I have known this for months, since the day she spat venom at 45 mph, into my voicemail.  Called me a liar, told me she’d tell the girls in class what I said about my in laws.  None of it made sense, but then again-I never listened to the entire voicemail.  After this incident, she begged me to forgive her-and that’s when I made my fatal mistake.

monster illustration
Pexels.com

I couldn’t put my finger on the sense of loss, anxiety and sense of impending doom.  I began tearing at my skin, stymied by my own inertia.  Recently, she was giving me the silent treatment-a well known, passive aggressive technique of the Jezebel.  They gaslight you into thinking it is you who’s the psychopath.  Narcissistic Injury-feel free to do your research in that department, if God forbid, you too are suffering.

I listened to the entire voicemail.

My skin crawled as I heard the vitriolic rage.

The moral of the story?  Go with your gut, especially if you have been the victim of Narcissistic Abuse.  There are resources online to help you understand the disease, the symptoms of CPTSD, and begin to heal the codependency that brought you to this place of utter despair.

Kill Jezebel.

 

 

An Open Letter to Joe M. @stormisuponus

Awhile back, I lost my cool on a guy on Twitter-Joe M. @thestormisuponus-it was back when Q told us that JFK, Jr. was not alive, after leading us in the direct opposite direction for months. I cried out in rage, almost convinced that QAnon was a Psyop, and that didn’t sit well with my discernment.

Literally two seconds after I left the boards, poor Joe M., in an attempt to console me, said that there is “disinformation on the boards as well.”

My response?

“This is the ULTIMATE betrayal!!!!”

A good shrink I used to see told me that anger is rooted in fear. And when we fear, whom do we go to? That’s right, Jesus.

And so it was, a few hours later, that I walked the trails of a wildlife sanctuary with my golden retriever. I looked up, I looked within, and popped the question.

“Abba, is John F. Kennedy, Jr. alive?”

Now Joe, you don’t know me from squat. You wouldn’t know that I have CPTSD, am a victim of NPD, and have suffered great heartache in my life because the people I treasured betrayed me. They lied to me. They manipulated me. They devastated me. As a result, I trust no man.

However, my friend, I do trust God. And in answer to my question? The Holy Spirit moved me to look down. What I saw was a Tiffany Blue feather, literally shining brightly by the corn stalks. I knew at that moment that John John was alive and well. My gratitude knew no bounds. I was uplifted and inspired-QAnon was no Psyop.

Just like you say, Joe, there must be disinformation-the black hats are watching. But I wanted you to know that I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s show, and between you and me?

I think you’re him.

Damn Right, It’s Better Than Yours

I remember the day well, we were hiking in treacherous Blue Mountain territory-when I say treacherous, I mean SNAKES. My husband had just tried to convince me that snakes weren’t around on sunny Fall days such as the one we were blessed with-snakes don’t come out in the Autumn, he said. I didn’t believe him, but it sounded good to me at the time. That was until I almost stepped on the slithery, incredibly long and imposing black snake, who, by all appearances, had been waiting for me since 1973.

“You know to put a piece of tape over your webcam on your computer, right?”

Thinking this was a new way of terrorizing me, I laughed.

“Why, on God’s green earth, would I have to do that?,” I cackled.

Just then, and with no warning, a shot rang out, and I hit the ground for cover, you know, your EMT training kicks in at the craziest times. As I spit the flat earth out of my mouth, my husband assured me he had “frightened” the snake.

“He won’t be bothering you any more.”

Folks, that is a true story, and I am telling it because I need to explain how I am the victim of some of the most bizarre tomfoolery ever witnessed by mankind-at the whim of my husband, no less.

So, after I had put my hat back on and had somewhat regained what little composure I had left, I asked again. Why would I have to tape my web cam shut?

And as it happened, on Christmas Eve, the meltdown of a lifetime, now on video, for all the world to see. At least I think they got a shot at me-as I was caught with my pants down, so to speak, and it went like this:

The Deep State Cabal is having a temper tantrum because they know. They know what’s coming-and if you want a good laugh at their expense, by all means, Tweet the word GITMO. Or QAnon. It drives them crazy, and they’re already hot messes of the Kuru kind-their assets have been frozen, they are monitored by ankle bracelets and espionage of the White Hat variety. We know every move they make. But it goes both ways, and after a day of struggling to get the news (my wi-fi mysteriously disconnects each time I hover over the target, my phone insists on me pin pointing my location, I have screen shots of frightening threats and computer codes-I have learned how to take said Android apart, and put it back together once safely home) out, I had a conniption fit befitting HRC herself. I mean, I lost it…

I began ranting at my pc-cursing the shadow government, raising my fists to the air at the injustice, and yes, at one point? I pulled up my shirt to expose a breast, whilst uttering a Tourette-like stream of ugliness in their direction.

I felt better, until I took a second look at my computer webcam, where the masking tape had been.

I gasped, thinking of the shit show I had allowed them to see, and then it hit me-I have really nice breasts. I mean, after a lifetime of flat chested agony, the girls have finally sagged a bit; giving me ample bosom for flashing the best of the best, those sons of bitches who rain on my parade.

Take that, clowns.

One Spinal Cracker

 

A few days ago, I told y’all the story about my unpleasant encounter with a woman from my exercise class, the trainer actually.  I called her Harriet.  

Harriett was hysterical after my factual retelling of the day when Mrs. Hoffmaster, my Kindergarten teacher, told me I would have to come for a few days during the Summer, to learn how to skip.  Yes, you read that right.  As I am regaling my audience with the story of how I was almost left back a grade, I was oh so rudely interrupted by Miss Thang.

“Oh no, Michele, that couldn’t have happened,” she is shaking her head, as if correcting a small child.  She went on to argue that she was a teacher for blah, blah, blah years-well, you can just imagine.  Stunned at first, I rallied for the cause and told her (nicely, I thought) that YES, INDEEDY DO, I GREW UP IN PHILADELPHIA, NOT THIS AREA.  WHO ARE YOU TO CALL ME A LIAR????  Ok, I didn’t say that part, but I argued with her until she shut her pie hole.

The women next to me mouthed, What the fuck?  I, on the other hand, had absolutely no problem saying WTF out loud.  As my face is my tell, I can only imagine the look I gave her.  I expected the situation to rectify after she apologized to me: needless to say, that wasn’t exactly an option.

On Thursday, I brought a carrot cake to class for the September birthdays.  I love to bake, and the ladies in Bands love to eat-so it works out nicely.  It was the first layer cake I had ever made, successfully that is.  I strategically parked next to the church (where class is held) so I had less of a chance at dropping my masterpiece.  🙂

While in class, I updated my girlfriend as she hadn’t been in class that day.  We both took notice that Harriet would not so much as look my way-let alone offer an apology.  Afterwards, Sherry and I stood outside, next to my jeep, and finished our convo  about the “incident.”

You did the right thing, sticking up for yourself, she said.  I think she owes you an apology, at the very least.

At that very moment, the diva walked past us, and gave me the oddest look-her eyes bulging out of her head-behind her prescription sunglasses.  At first I thought she may have overheard us, but I had nothing to hide.  And then it hit me, she was outraged that I had parked so close to her church.  She couldn’t believe the depravity, I mean, who did I think I was, anyway?

Here’s the rub.  Just last week she had confided that she thought she may be developing Alzheimer’s, as her father had died from the ravaging disease.  Knowing what I know, I asked her what type of personality he had.  I know that certain personality types are much more prone to dementia, especially the Narcissist.

She thought about that a second before answering.

Total narcissist, had to control everything freaking detail of our lives.  Just a very unhappy man.”

Oh, Harriet…

 

 

 

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.

 

QTip

I am almost hesitant to write this blog, as the last time I wrote on this subject matter? I was called names like, “reprehensible c***,” “delusional F*** face, and my personal favorite?

“I feel sorry for your husband. You are a whack job, imbecile.”

Projection, projection, projection! It’s what the Swamp does best-accuse conservatives of the very thing they are doing, and folks, there is no time to waste, the choice to KNOW will be yours.

It isn’t pretty, it isn’t fair, and it isn’t going to bring us down. I suggest that when doing your own research (QAnon is not a brainwashing PSYOP, as the MSM would have you believe)-in order to protect The Plan there will be disinformation. But Q has always asked us to think logically, think for ourselves, and in doing so? You too will be awakened.

I don’t tend to care what other people think, never have, never will. And thank God I don’t, because the Peanut Gallery is doing some high volume shrieking, and for the very reasons I share this video. They are frightened, panicking, and know that their Satanic, Pedophilic, Cannibal Abuse will be coming to an end-and I mean soon.

The witched and warlocks of Washington, Hellywood, the music industry-they are all going down. Those who did not kill will be given a choice, those who did-GITMO and hanging. No, President Trump isn’t fooling around. And it was proven at the cough, belch, vomit-funeral of Poppy Bush…the man who organized the death of JFK, and the unmerciful, unimaginable terror of 9/11.

As the Deep State planned the funeral for D5, Trump’s plans were temporarily put off. However, this from Q:

“Nice move, DS. Allow us to counter.”

Here is the brilliant counter in vivid technicolor. Never, in the history of mankind, has a presidency been so transparent. QAnon is a means to that end, and at the end of the day? I will follow Him.

Christmas By Myself This Year

I am ready to crawl into the fetal position and be done with this nightmare. What was the movie?The Nightmare Before Christmas? Never saw the flick, but who cares? Who gives a flying fazuck? It’s Christmas time, the halls are decked, the tree is done, my shopping almost complete. Wake me up when it’s time to take a long Winter’s nap; put a fork in my for crying out loud-I’m DONE.

47314348_10210121921203987_8779688819822690304_o

As a matter of fact, this Facebook post just about sums it up right now. All I want for Christmas is to have my husband and critters healthy and safe. That’s it, that’s my list. But the unseen forces of this world have a different idea-they want me a withered nub of nothing, so I have news for them.

STEP OFF!!!

Last Sunday, exhausted from a weekend of socializing, I drug my weary ass cheeks up the concrete stairs-I had a drink in one hand and a purse in the other. I was also carrying my dog’s collection of toys; left like little bodies, littering the yard. And so it was that I had no hands to break my fall when the inevitable happened. I tripped, my forehead breaking my fall.

48362570_10210180425746564_6915648794038108160_o

Not very pretty, but after an OK from the Emergency Room doctor, I went home-thinking, this won’t be so bad. I’ve suffered worse, believe me. But a week later? I still feel nauseous and the headaches are not so pleasant. But none of this matters, it truly doesn’t. Last night, God put everything in perspective for me. I was spent from crying all morning; I miss my parents at this time of year-Christmas was truly special at our home. I know what the reason for the season is-I just want a modicum of peace to fill my heart and soul.

I turned the music up (Charlie Brown Christmas, my favorite holiday tune) and Jess and I began to dance. Jubilant for over a minute, the smile was wiped from my face when I bent down to hug the dog-I found a small lump on his chest. The room began to spin, my heart was beating erratically, this can’t be happening, NO, no, no, no. My husband was in the shower; I yelled up to him, told him the grim news.

I thought a word of comfort, solace…maybe even hope. What I received instead? Name calling, of the you ruined my Christmas variety. It was if he thought I was purposefully looking for bad news: Lord have mercy! He had put up the Christmas lights, cut us a tree, dealt with my weeping just hours before.

He gave me the silent treatment. I gathered my things and headed for bed. 5:30 folks. I went to bed at 5:30 p.m. I awoke to the piercing pain in my heart. I remembered the lump. My husband slammed the door as he left the house, as I was none to eager to hear his apology. Actions speak louder than words, you know.

I phoned the vet, made an appointment first thing. My mood was as low as low could be; until I stopped in at Walmart for a few things. I asked a woman for help finding the cat nip, and the look on her face told me two things: I forgot to comb my hair, and I was now the freak at Wally World. I stopped to take a perusal of my appearance-sweet Jesus, the tattered clothing, combined with a shiner reminiscent of Muhammed Ali? Not good. I didn’t care, I was on a mission to be at the vet on time. I paid for my things and drove to the animal hospital.

To my surprise, Dwain stood at the door.

“What are you doing here?,” I mumbled.

Thirty minutes later, with a diagnoses of a fatty tumor, I took my dog for a hike. I thanked Abba with all I had in me. And when we returned? Tootsie went to comfort his friend.

46492961_10210077113843831_5491600211786596352_o

We must remember what is truly important at this time of year; and that is our family, friends and treasured children; whether animal or human. Be grateful for the small things, and let God take care of the rest.