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.

11813495_854792317936224_8547622416623466150_n

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~

 

The Choice to Know is Yours

We attended church this morning, and as usual?  The pastor threw me off of my game by the title of his sermon A Heart Full of Hate.  Before I wax poetic, I want you to know that I am including myself in this equation.  This isn’t a lecture or even a directive, but what the Holy Spirit is conveying to me at this space in time.

As a citizen journalist and Twitter addict, I can tell you that there have been many occasions where I have felt pure disgust and, dare I say it?  Contempt for those who are not yet awakened, not yet fully informed.  Like I was born with the knowledge myself.  No, there have been beacons of hope leading the search for the truth, Bill Smith, Bill Cooper, John F. Kennedy-I just fell into it at the exact moment that God would have me fall.

This isn’t political.  Nope.  Let’s just do away with the left and right paradigm this very minute.  Not in my blog, at least, not any longer.  This is not to say I don’t enjoy the occasional meme or political parody-no, I’m not giving that up.  Heck, I’m not a hypocrite.

I am just a child of God who sins, asks for forgiveness, and tries to repent to the best of my ability.  I fail, I fall, but He picks me right back up-time after time.  That being said, I have sought the truth and nothing but for the past three years.

The fact is that if the full news came out now, 99% of the population would be in hospital.  That is a fact.  I remember the days when I was first coming out of the fog-the things I learned or set my eyes upon could break a person, for sure.  But if we put things in perspective, and seek the voice of God in all we do?  We can handle this awakening, one day at a time.

The powers that be (I refuse to call them elite, because they are nothing but pure satanic trash) want us divided.  All of the political rhetoric in the world can not hide the fact that this had nothing, zero, nada to do with Democrats and Republicans-and everything to do with satan’s time upon this earth coming to an end:  a messy end at that.

Do you have any idea how many Republicans have left office under suspicious and disconcerting circumstances?  Do you know that you can go to usa.gov and get most of this information yourselves?  I understand that you are being fed a huge crock of bullshit on a daily basis by a media that is given its talking points at 4 a.m. by the Illuminati goons who decide what kind of Psy-op they are dishing out on any particular day.

Let’s talk about the puppet masters creating full blown hysteria in children over the issue of global warming.

Look, I would never lie to you.  GLOBAL WARMING DOES NOT EXIST.  I find it infuriating that they are robbing young boys and girls of not only their childhoods, but the hope of a future, for nothing but evil.  You want to talk about the New Green Deal?  Don’t say one effing word unless you have read it and digested the implications.

Have you any clue of the Noahide laws?

Do you know that 9/11 was perpetrated by an unholy union between Islam and this nation’s leaders?  Do you also know that this hideous day was used for satanic sacrifice on a massive scale?  Was GW on Airforce one when the first (plane) hit the twin towers?  Or was he reading to children in an outlying suburb?

Plane.  Metal.  Hit.  Kite.

Those are the very words he had an entire classroom of children repeating-over and over again.  Hmm.  Sounds like a spell, wouldn’t you say?

I spent the last hour looking for this video, which I will eventually find.

The point is that we must lay our burdens at His feet and lay our differences at the altar.  Together we are so much stronger, and love for one another is how we are known to the secular world.

All of this information is public, albeit not easy to find.

That too will change.

Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock.  Tick.   Tock.

 

 

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.

11813495_854792317936224_8547622416623466150_n

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

 

Slap Me With the Splintered Ruler

 

Good Sunday morning to y’all.  I need you to know that I only have a laptop on the weekends, as mine took a crapola last week.  Of course, my husband offered to take me to Best Buy this weekend, but I am not ready.  Very interesting…a week ago I felt like someone took my nubby-How Will I Ever Exist?  I won’t be able to write, go on Twatter, see the REAL news.  Yet God, in His infinite wisdom, had much greater plans.  Goosebumps….

Let’s just say that I had been way too preoccupied with the web, and with my addictive personality?  I had cut down on pc time, but still carried the computer with me, room to room.  True confession time:  I took it to the bathroom with me.  Don’t judge me, that room is the only room in the house with a door!  Sometimes a girl needs to breathe.  So, while my husband, friends and support network were extremely concerned (I have to say, my brother was probably ready to send for the men in white coats-haha!) Wouldn’t that be special?  My sister tried to have me committed to a facility the night I tried to take my own life-wise, you are saying to yourselves.  I just covered my ears until the social worker on duty promised me there would be no psychiatric institutions.  The very next morning they released me, gave me an Atarax (boy, if I could get my hands on some of those babies-but nah, just the drug addict in me) which allowed me to sleep my entire first day of sobriety away….giving my man time to drain the booze, and anything expensive was given to the neighbors. 

When I awoke that stormy October afternoon, back in 2007?  I went directly for the booze cupboard, searching for something-anything alcoholic-to my surprise I found a jug of white wine.  I sat that baby on the table and we had a talk, until Jesus intervened.

My precious child, when?  When will you say enough?  How much more of this life will you waste?

That did it.  I put the jug back where it belonged and waited it out.  This would be the beginning of years of cravings, big and small.  Relapses.  Drinking upstate without my husband’s knowledge-at the beautiful cabin we are gifted access to from time to time-I knew that was a big bowl of WRONG, yet I couldn’t, or wouldn’t give that once a year libation up-and one day, I thought of all of the miracles that Jesus had performed for me, personal triumphs, freedom from cancer, the very fact that I was alive and breathing spoke volumes to me.

What if I made a covenant with God?  What if in exchange for all He has done, I put away the thought of ever drinking alcohol again, and prayed for Him to give me the strength to do so.

That conversation took place a year ago.

Not.  One.   Craving.

I could not give up on the worldwide web, the loss was profound…and if I can tell you anything about myself, I can tell you that I am highly adaptable to almost any situation.  They say it takes two weeks to form a habit, and that is why I said “No thanks,” when Dwain offered to buy me a lap top.  I am perfectly content writing on the weekends, and once I am convinced my internet addiction is tamed?  Only then will I purchase new equipment.

It turns out?  I have a life to live.  I cannot fathom the chunks of time I wasted, sitting in my hidy hole, reading every bit of the Great Awakening news I could find… I went down Rabbit Holes no person in their right mind would want to travel.  And again, once I got the monkey off of my back?  I began getting things done.  Actually working on the farmhouse, baking, cooking, finding me again.

My husband drove out to New Hampshire for a business trip last week.  And so it was, on Monday evening, the house quiet, no music, no television-that I found a picture of me and my father.

“Wow.  I always hated this picture of myself.  Not so much anymore, huh dad?  Umm…it’s/been/hard…”  The words tumbled from my mouth, and before I knew it, I was crying-my body wracked with emotional pain, I sensed something huge was in the air.

Jesus spoke to me again.

Child, it is time to let go of your shame.

Was I hearing Abba correctly?  Why, I didn’t realize I still carried it with me, the deep seated self loathing.  It took some time, but everything came together, as if a giant piece of the puzzle had been found.  I turned the pain into gratitude, as I remembered why I had such shame to begin with.

As a child, I knew shame.  My mother would go for days without speaking to me, and for the life of me, I truly never knew what provoked her ire.  I stopped a moment to think about what deep shame could do to a child in her formative years.  Eventually, I would buy her a card or pick her flowers.  I came across one such card in my mother’s bible just a while back.

Mom, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I love you very much.

Your daughter,

Michele

In school I suffered total shame because of my weight.  The kids were cruel, and the taunting was so persistent?  It took me well into my thirties before I could jog or walk past a group of teens.  No matter that I had lost the weight, I still felt the shame.

In High School, considered a jock and oddball, (Varsity Crew Coxswain) I began to realize that this wasn’t going to resolve itself, but I had no idea where to begin.  At Villanova, my shame came from not having or being enough.  Surrounded by incredibly wealthy and beautiful people, I made up a story about being a Jontue model.  Unfortunately, people not only believed me, they spread the word.  I mean, who doesn’t want to be friends with a famous model, right?  In college I learned to reinvent myself, and the only person I was hurting was me.  Why wasn’t I enough?

After college, my drinking career became legend in some parts of King of Prussia.  I began seeking attention (love) through a series of promiscuous love affairs-and the reputation stuck.  I began doing cocaine as a way to lift my spirits and self esteem; what could possibly go wrong?

The day I found myself on the doorstep of my rented home, due to losing an eight ball of coke.  I had given my brother a birthday party, and while I had my back turned, one of my nearest and dearest friends (I had only invited people we were very close to) had lifted the bag I had hidden, way in the back of my closet, under a stack of love letters.  I had promised Ted, my landlord, that I would sell it all that night.  There are no words to express my horror at finding I had been robbed.  I had no money to give him, and that didn’t sit well, not at all.

Ted sold drugs for the Gambino crime family.

I went on the run.  My room mate and best friend, Mel, beside me-we drove away like bats out of hell, and didn’t look back, not once.

So, with my worsening alcoholism and drug addiction, there were reasons to be ashamed.  And as I sat in my bedroom, weeping between the litter boxes, I asked myself this question:

What is there to be ashamed of now?  Why do you feel unworthy?  Why do you punish yourself for simply existing?

Let me light my lamp, says the tiny star; and never debate whether it will dispel the darkness.

– Rabindranath Tagore

May you shed your shame like the cloak of darkness it has become.

You are special, unique and loved-let your freak flag fly, baby~

Slap Me With the Splintered Ruler

 

Good Sunday morning to y’all.  I need you to know that I only have a laptop on the weekends, as mine took a crapola last week.  Of course, my husband offered to take me to Best Buy this weekend, but I am not ready.  Very interesting…a week ago I felt like someone took my nubby-How Will I Ever Exist?  I won’t be able to write, go on Twatter, see the REAL news.  Yet God, in His infinite wisdom, had much greater plans.  Goosebumps….

Let’s just say that I had been way too preoccupied with the web, and with my addictive personality?  I had cut down on pc time, but still carried the computer with me, room to room.  True confession time:  I took it to the bathroom with me.  Don’t judge me, that room is the only room in the house with a door!  Sometimes a girl needs to breathe.  So, while my husband, friends and support network were extremely concerned (I have to say, my brother was probably ready to send for the men in white coats-haha!) Wouldn’t that be special?  My sister tried to have me committed to a facility the night I tried to take my own life-wise, you are saying to yourselves.  I just covered my ears until the social worker on duty promised me there would be no psychiatric institutions.  The very next morning they released me, gave me an Atarax (boy, if I could get my hands on some of those babies-but nah, just the drug addict in me) which allowed me to sleep my entire first day of sobriety away….giving my man time to drain the booze, and anything expensive was given to the neighbors. 

When I awoke that stormy October afternoon, back in 2007?  I went directly for the booze cupboard, searching for something-anything alcoholic-to my surprise I found a jug of white wine.  I sat that baby on the table and we had a talk, until Jesus intervened.

My precious child, when?  When will you say enough?  How much more of this life will you waste?

That did it.  I put the jug back where it belonged and waited it out.  This would be the beginning of years of cravings, big and small.  Relapses.  Drinking upstate without my husband’s knowledge-at the beautiful cabin we are gifted access to from time to time-I knew that was a big bowl of WRONG, yet I couldn’t, or wouldn’t give that once a year libation up-and one day, I thought of all of the miracles that Jesus had performed for me, personal triumphs, freedom from cancer, the very fact that I was alive and breathing spoke volumes to me.

What if I made a covenant with God?  What if in exchange for all He has done, I put away the thought of ever drinking alcohol again, and prayed for Him to give me the strength to do so.

That conversation took place a year ago.

Not.  One.   Craving.

I could not give up on the worldwide web, the loss was profound…and if I can tell you anything about myself, I can tell you that I am highly adaptable to almost any situation.  They say it takes two weeks to form a habit, and that is why I said “No thanks,” when Dwain offered to buy me a lap top.  I am perfectly content writing on the weekends, and once I am convinced my internet addiction is tamed?  Only then will I purchase new equipment.

It turns out?  I have a life to live.  I cannot fathom the chunks of time I wasted, sitting in my hidy hole, reading every bit of the Great Awakening news I could find… I went down Rabbit Holes no person in their right mind would want to travel.  And again, once I got the monkey off of my back?  I began getting things done.  Actually working on the farmhouse, baking, cooking, finding me again.

My husband drove out to New Hampshire for a business trip last week.  And so it was, on Monday evening, the house quiet, no music, no television-that I found a picture of me and my father.

“Wow.  I always hated this picture of myself.  Not so much anymore, huh dad?  Umm…it’s/been/hard…”  The words tumbled from my mouth, and before I knew it, I was crying-my body wracked with emotional pain, I sensed something huge was in the air.

Jesus spoke to me again.

Child, it is time to let go of your shame.

Was I hearing Abba correctly?  Why, I didn’t realize I still carried it with me, the deep seated self loathing.  It took some time, but everything came together, as if a giant piece of the puzzle had been found.  I turned the pain into gratitude, as I remembered why I had such shame to begin with.

As a child, I knew shame.  My mother would go for days without speaking to me, and for the life of me, I truly never knew what provoked her ire.  I stopped a moment to think about what deep shame could do to a child in her formative years.  Eventually, I would buy her a card or pick her flowers.  I came across one such card in my mother’s bible just a while back.

Mom, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I love you very much.

Your daughter,

Michele

In school I suffered total shame because of my weight.  The kids were cruel, and the taunting was so persistent?  It took me well into my thirties before I could jog or walk past a group of teens.  No matter that I had lost the weight, I still felt the shame.

In High School, considered a jock and oddball, (Varsity Crew Coxswain) I began to realize that this wasn’t going to resolve itself, but I had no idea where to begin.  At Villanova, my shame came from not having or being enough.  Surrounded by incredibly wealthy and beautiful people, I made up a story about being a Jontue model.  Unfortunately, people not only believed me, they spread the word.  I mean, who doesn’t want to be friends with a famous model, right?  In college I learned to reinvent myself, and the only person I was hurting was me.  Why wasn’t I enough?

After college, my drinking career became legend in some parts of King of Prussia.  I began seeking attention (love) through a series of promiscuous love affairs-and the reputation stuck.  I began doing cocaine as a way to lift my spirits and self esteem; what could possibly go wrong?

The day I found myself on the doorstep of my rented home, due to losing an eight ball of coke.  I had given my brother a birthday party, and while I had my back turned, one of my nearest and dearest friends (I had only invited people we were very close to) had lifted the bag I had hidden, way in the back of my closet, under a stack of love letters.  I had promised Ted, my landlord, that I would sell it all that night.  There are no words to express my horror at finding I had been robbed.  I had no money to give him, and that didn’t sit well, not at all.

Ted sold drugs for the Gambino crime family.

I went on the run.  My room mate and best friend, Mel, beside me-we drove away like bats out of hell, and didn’t look back, not once.

So, with my worsening alcoholism and drug addiction, there were reasons to be ashamed.  And as I sat in my bedroom, weeping between the litter boxes, I asked myself this question:

What is there to be ashamed of now?  Why do you feel unworthy?  Why do you punish yourself for simply existing?

Let me light my lamp, says the tiny star; and never debate whether it will dispel the darkness.

– Rabindranath Tagore

May you shed your shame like the cloak of darkness it has become.

You are special, unique and loved-let your freak flag fly, baby~

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.

Slap Me With the Splintered Ruler

 

Good Saturday morning to y’all.  I need you to know that I only have a laptop on the weekends, as mine took a crapola last week.  Of course, my husband offered to take me to Best Buy this weekend, but I am not ready.  Very interesting…a week ago I felt like someone took my nubby-How Will I Ever Exist?  I won’t be able to write, go on Twatter, see the REAL news.  Yet God, in His infinite wisdom, had much greater plans.  Goosebumps….

Let’s just say that I had been way too preoccupied with the web, and with my addictive personality?  I had cut down on pc time, but still carried the computer with me, room to room.  True confession time:  I took it to the bathroom with me.  Don’t judge me, that room is the only room in the house with a door!  Sometimes a girl needs to breathe.  So, while my husband, friends and support network were extremely concerned (I have to say, my brother was probably ready to send for the men in white coats-haha!) Wouldn’t that be special?  My sister tried to have me committed to a facility the night I tried to take my own life-wise, you are saying to yourselves.  I just covered my ears until the social worker on duty promised me there would be no psychiatric institutions.  The very next morning they released me, gave me an Atarax (boy, if I could get my hands on some of those babies-but nah, just the drug addict in me) which allowed me to sleep my entire first day of sobriety away….giving my man time to drain the booze, and anything expensive was given to the neighbors. 

When I awoke that stormy October afternoon, back in 2007?  I went directly for the booze cupboard, searching for something-anything alcoholic-to my surprise I found a jug of white wine.  I sat that baby on the table and we had a talk, until Jesus intervened.

My precious child, when?  When will you say enough?  How much more of this life will you waste?

That did it.  I put the jug back where it belonged and waited it out.  This would be the beginning of years of cravings, big and small.  Relapses.  Drinking upstate without my husband’s knowledge-at the beautiful cabin we are gifted access to from time to time-I knew that was a big bowl of WRONG, yet I couldn’t, or wouldn’t give that once a year libation up-and one day, I thought of all of the miracles that Jesus had performed for me, personal triumphs, freedom from cancer, the very fact that I was alive and breathing spoke volumes to me.

What if I made a covenant with God?  What if in exchange for all He has done, I put away the thought of ever drinking alcohol again, and prayed for Him to give me the strength to do so.

That conversation took place a year ago.

Not.  One.   Craving.

 

I could not give up on the worldwide web, the loss was profound…and if I can tell you anything about myself, I can tell you that I am highly adaptable to almost any situation.  They say it takes two weeks to form a habit, and that is why I said “No thanks,” when Dwain offered to buy me a lap top.  I am perfectly content writing on the weekends, and once I am convinced my internet addiction is tamed?  Only then will I purchase new equipment.

It turns out?  I have a life to live.  I cannot fathom the chunks of time I wasted, sitting in my hidy hole, reading every bit of the Great Awakening news I could find… I went down Rabbit Holes no person in their right mind would want to travel.  And again, once I got the monkey off of my back?  I began getting things done.  Actually working on the farmhouse, baking, cooking, finding me again.

My husband drove out to New Hampshire for a business trip last week.  And so it was, on Monday evening, the house quiet, no music, no television-that I found a picture of me and my father.

“Wow.  I always hated this picture of myself.  Not so much anymore, huh dad?  Umm…it’s/been/hard…”  The words tumbled from my mouth, and before I knew it, I was crying-my body wracked with emotional pain, I sensed something huge was in the air.

Jesus spoke to me again.

Child, it is time to let go of your shame.

Was I hearing Abba correctly?  Why, I didn’t realize I still carried it with me, the deep seated self loathing.  It took some time, but everything came together, as if a giant piece of the puzzle had been found.  I turned the pain into gratitude, as I remembered why I had such shame to begin with.

As a child, I knew shame.  My mother would go for days without speaking to me, and for the life of me, I truly never knew what provoked her ire.  I stopped a moment to think about what deep shame could do to a child in her formative years.  Eventually, I would buy her a card or pick her flowers.  I came across one such card in my mother’s bible just a while back.

Mom, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I love you very much.

Your daughter,

Michele

In school I suffered total shame because of my weight.  The kids were cruel, and the taunting was so persistent?  It took me well into my thirties before I could jog or walk past a group of teens.  No matter that I had lost the weight, I still felt the shame.

In High School, considered a jock and oddball, (Varsity Crew Coxswain) I began to realize that this wasn’t going to resolve itself, but I had no idea where to begin.  At Villanova, my shame came from not having or being enough.  Surrounded by incredibly wealthy and beautiful people, I made up a story about being a Jontue model.  Unfortunately, people not only believed me, they spread the word.  I mean, who doesn’t want to be friends with a famous model, right?  In college I learned to reinvent myself, and the only person I was hurting was me.  Why wasn’t I enough?

After college, my drinking career became legend in some parts of King of Prussia.  I began seeking attention (love) through a series of promiscuous love affairs-and the reputation stuck.  I began doing cocaine as a way to lift my spirits and self esteem; what could possibly go wrong?

The day I found myself on the doorstep of my rented home, due to losing an eight ball of coke.  I had given my brother a birthday party, and while I had my back turned, one of my nearest and dearest friends (I had only invited people we were very close to) had lifted the bag I had hidden, way in the back of my closet, under a stack of love letters.  I had promised Ted, my landlord, that I would sell it all that night.  There are no words to express my horror at finding I had been robbed.  I had no money to give him, and that didn’t sit well, not at all.

Ted sold drugs for the Gambino crime family.

I went on the run.  My room mate and best friend, Mel, beside me-we drove away like bats out of hell, and didn’t look back, not once.

So, with my worsening alcoholism and drug addiction, there were reasons to be ashamed.  And as I sat in my bedroom, weeping between the litter boxes, I asked myself this question:

What is there to be ashamed of now?  Why do you feel unworthy?  Why do you punish yourself for simply existing?

Let me light my lamp, says the tiny star; and never debate whether it will dispel the darkness.

– Rabindranath Tagore

May you shed your shame like the cloak of darkness it has become.

You are special, unique and loved-let your freak flag fly, baby~