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!

 

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.

 

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.

He is~

Ladies and gents, may I introduce the man God used to restore my sanity-Mr. Richard Gannon.  Although we’ve never met, I feel a solid closeness to this man as I’ve watched him go from traumatized and triggered to victorious and free.  I love him, adore even, and I find his videos a panacea to those of us who have been around the block a time or two with a toxic, dehumanizing relationship.

I deleted my last writing as, turns out?  That happened to be the one he did read, and three times at that.  His Reader’s Digest version?

You told the world I was a satan worshipper.

No, I am not the only half of this couple who has a vivid imagination, and he does have a knack for missing entire points of conversation.

Post argument I spent my days busy, looking for apartments, and praying/sleeping.  Jesus always combines tragedies for me in a way I can’t quite describe, as if he is killing two birds with one stone.  I discovered a swollen lymph node last evening, which means I either have Lyme or I am down with the ship sick.  Almost every argument we have had?  It coincides with the absolute necessity that I slow down and heal, emotionally and physically-something my nervous energy does not allow, ever.  I also think there is a self-attached stigma to my boudoir, as through depression and illness I’ve done my time there.

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If I feel as if my inner child is being attacked? It’s not going to be pretty, for anyone.

So, today I feel so punk I call it a day, and head right back up to bed after skimming the headline news.  I am drained, dehydrated and dangerously depressed.  I phone my husband, there is a small breakthrough.  Misunderstandings are corrected, words taken back for prosperity.  BUT, there is the reason I was triggered (the full moon, my period and being under the weather only added to my veracity) and that reason had years and years of build up.

I would have thought my temper would have been calmed by now, but interestingly enough?  I find that I am more ferocious, fiery that ever before.  It’s as if the Holy Spirit is fighting with me, or for me, I can’t say.  I can literally feel the Lion’s head rearing, and a force much stronger than me takes over from within.  The result is animalistic, intense and frightening.  Here’s the rub-I don’t get angry like I used to, I’ve been there and find it does nothing for one’s tendency towards migraines.  I know a thing or two, and I consider myself to be a calm and loving force of nature.

Alas, then it happens, I am T R I G G E R E D, a wound from childhood or even years ago will surface, along with a trauma memory-and Sara doesn’t live here anymore.  I have prayed about this phenomena, and it turns out it is healthy for those of us who have been abused, to feel the emotion of anger.  In other words, rage is good.  It means you respect yourself and in my case it also means I am defending the little girl who had no way of defense.

My war is not with my husband.  Nor my monster in law.  My war was with powers and principalities unseen, yes, in the spiritual realms.  However, I will not dine in the presence of mine enemies.

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Jesse and Maybelline pile on the bed. I slowly succumb to the nurturing only Jesus can orchestrate.

Cried out, I did a bible dip for relief.  I say a prayer, and flip to a page to find His wisdom.

The comfort I received was read from Isaiah, a book I read from often.  My kitten snuggled close, kissing every centimeter of my face, tickling, delighting. Isaiah speaks to the reality that as Christians, we will be persecuted.  God will use these trials and heartbreaks to refine us, to strengthen us.  No, we will not be spared sorrow in this life.  Yet we can live this truth with certainty-Jesus will see us through safely, each and every step of the way.

He alone has the victory, and if you are His you will feel this in your very bones.

No one ever said that picking up your cross would be easy.  God assures us that it will be well worth the tears, and that He is carrying us-each and every step of the way.

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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.

Trust the Plan, Man

Lordamighty, it has been a trying week.  I have wept so often I have a dehydration migraine going.  And the toxic people in my life aren’t helping; neither is my Irish temper.  After three days of emotional roller coasters and half assed hostessing–I did the unthinkable, had two dinner parties back to back on consecutive days–I am planted firmly on my assets, and plan on absolutely nothing for duration of today.

So, my girlfriend Lynn came to dine on Tuesday.  We have recently reunited after a not so pretty breakup, and I was just as much to blame as she.  I have few regrets in this life, but they all involve my inability to have compassion or patience with people I loved dearly.  It still kicks me in the stomach now and then.

Lynn is my friend that respects me enough to believe me when I tell her what is going on.  She takes it in stride, and I believe it to be her strong and abiding faith in Jesus.  For when we are weak, then are we strong stuff.  She is lovely, and very fragile with health problems.  I worry and pray for her, and I believe she will be healed.  She knows what it is to be trampled on, then shunned by family members.  One of these members happens to be a pastor who tapped her phone and hacked her Facebook account.  He then publicly humiliated her in a sermon, and had the entire church shun his own stepmother.

I got noting on her, for sure.

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Found these sweethearts on the side of the road, they didn’t live long-but they lived with purpose and joy.

I didn’t really trust it, at first-the friendship.  I had cared for her mother in Lynne’s home, and she had helped me during a full blown nervous breakdown-she was my angel.  She fought with my husband over allowing me to smoke, stuck up for me in church and social circles, and had the biggest heart I’d ever seen.

Familiarity breeds discontent.

I ran into her at the grocery store, and stopped to chat for a bit.  To be frank, my force field was in full operation.  I had no intentions of trusting her, or hoping it would go further.  I am so much stronger than I was then, the breakdown coming after I decided to go off of my Lexapro-cold turkey-because I believed it made me gain twenty pounds.  Sadly, I almost did the same rodeo show with my Zoloft-I came to my senses after two days.

Time to admit that you have a chemical imbalance, are prone to serious depression and anxiety after a lifetime of abuse, CPTSD.  There, that wasn’t so hard.  Don’t get me wrong, every ridiculous and harrowing ride I have ever taken in this glorious life brought me to the point of now, and praise Jesus!  I am stronger, more resistant.  I speak my truth, and as is my wont, publicly and at volume eleventy hundred.

Alas, over the last few days we have bonded due to extremely trying times, for the both of us.  I lost my best friend to cancer, she her health concerns and loneliness.  It’s not that she doesn’t have people around her, it’s just that they don’t understand her.  Not like I do.

Anyway, I brought up the Reptilian convoy.  Interestingly enough, she didn’t blink an eye ball!  How could this be, my thought cloud read.  She didn’t bat an eye, because she knew a woman who worked at Hershey Medical Center.  This woman is a nurse, and she confided in Lynne that she had cared (meaning on multiple occasions) for people with “claws for hands.”

If you are as repelled and horrified as I am, well, God bless ya.

The following video if from a man I like to call friend.  He is a respected scholar in this field.  He lectures all around the country, is an Irish Catholic like myself, and takes his work very seriously.  I caution you to not rebuke this information, because these are facts, not fiction.

May we as Christians, brothers and sisters in Christ who are privileged to live in such a time as this, where we are witnessing biblical spiritual warfare-and we are winning.  Bigly.  May we all come together, forget the political drudge that is meant to separate us.  For we are much stronger together, and now is the time to love one another.  Love out loud.  Reach out to those around you who are having a hard time with the facts.

Our biggest foe is the Mainstream media.  They are keeping those yet awakened in the dark, after years of brainwashing and demoralizing-they are lying just as they are living.

Future proves past.

Ask Jesus into your heart, ask for discernment from the Holy Spirit.  I do this each and every day, but you don’t have to.  There are no rules.  If you call on the name of Jesus, He will be at your side.  If you draw closer, and believe that He is the one and only Son of God who came in the flesh to sacrifice for our sins so that we may be forgiven?  Whisper, shout, whatever you have to do, I am telling you.  Just twelve years ago I was a hopeless addict, strung out from PTSD, sitting in the ER with a cop at my door.  Suicide watch.  I had zero self esteem, and had been an unknowing victim in my sister’s narcissism.  I was at bottom as bottom can get, my marriage in turmoil, my mind a backlog of grief.

I was terrified of feeling the pain.  Terrified.

Today I am free from the guilt, the shame and the grief.  Because of Him I am stronger.  Because of Him I am an adult, wide awake but fearless.  I trust my Abba.

I trust the plan, man.