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
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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
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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.

 

 

Physician, Heal Thyself

 

I’m back BABY!!!!  I am back amongst the living, trying to adjust to my new laptop.  I almost walked out of Staples on Saturday: I had one picked out-the cheapest one, and I was dead set on that model-when Mr. Staples, Jr. abruptly said:

“We don’t have that in stock, you’ll have to drive to Hershey.”

I mumbled a few choice words to my husband.

How convenient.  I’m not driving to Hershey!  Seems a bit fishy, they can’t keep the cheapest computer in stock…..let’s go, I’m done.”

The twelve year old salesperson stared at me, stunned I wouldn’t fall for the next to cheapest model, which was $100 more.  And then, by some twist of fate, I ended up walking out with that more expensive laptop.  And so it goes…

Oh what a delight to be back, writing, researching, and coming up with new ideas for my blogola.  I hope I didn’t forget how to write.  It’s not like riding a bike, folks.  I was thrilled with the idea of writing weekly, until I remembered the words of Christian Mahai-write, write, write.  The frequency of my blogs isn’t important, it’s the content.  So, let’s get right into it, shall we?

The above song is by Flyleaf, a Christian band I love.  I don’t believe they are together, and I know the lead vocalist took time away from singing to have a family-the point of this song?

Notice the voice in this video, by Joe M., The Storm is Upon Us.   This is the voice of John F. Kennedy, Jr.  The fact has been verified that John John is very much alive and well.  If you really want hour by hour coverage of The Plan, follow Joe M. on Twitter, you won’t be disappointed.

In other news:

Remember this:  the truth shall set you free.  God is with us and for us, no man can stand against us.

Be blessed.

 

Just Hillbilly

 

I grew up on the Main Line, attended Villanova and the Philadelphia Academy of the Fine Arts, and the most of the country I had seen was at my grandmother’s farmette in upstate New York.  We would visit once a year, and that just wasn’t enough for me-I loved grandma’s home grown garden, ate so many beets my pee turned purple, and even my brother’s attempts to electrocute me via the electric horse fence seemed folksy.

That, was many, many moons ago-and where did God plant me?  In the middle of bumfuck Lancaster County-one of His biggest gifts to date.  Don’t get me wrong-when I first moved here (relocated with my fiancée, who was a Metallurgical  Engineer ) I was out of my mind with homesickness, the party life and culture I had grown very accustomed to-it was nothing to run to New Jersey for a concert, the museums were plentiful and so was the five star dining experience-well, I griped and moaned and waxed poetic.

“I hate it here.  Nothing to do or see here, folks.  DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I HATE IT HERE???????

I would scream at my current husband, who  thankfully ignored me for the most part.  I was a drinker, and the more I hurt-the more I imbibed.  Let’s just say I hurt…a lot.

Here we are in 2019, and if someone told me I would have to move from the embryotic fluid this area had become to me?  I would braid their nose hairs and call it a day.  God knows what He’s doing, and I am here to tell you that country living is the bomb-hiking, fishing, trapping, hunting, fresh air and even a man made lake-right in my back yard!

One thing country living doesn’t do, and that is educate.  Nope, you’re on your own in these sleepy little towns-not only are people asleep?  But they don’t want to be woken, and to attempt that is just Tomfoolery at best.  I joined an exercise class last Fall, at our local Lutheran church.  I decided, half way in between a muscle pull and extreme fatigue, to red pill my fellow athletes with a little diddy I like to call trainwreck, which went something like this:

“Hey, did you guys know Interpol attempted an arrest on the Pope, but his goons beat them up to the point that the arrest was unsuccessful?,” I asked.

Like a bitch in heat, those mothers jumped me-

“FAKE NEWS!!!”

What the hell are you talking about?,” and my personal favorite?

Michele, you have no idea what you’re talking about.  But if we hear anything along those lines, we’ll let you know.”  hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I was shocked.  These were educated women, smart and tough women.  Not one of them knew?

When I returned home, I got to work.  Emails, Twitter, Facebook-I used what means I had and spread the news-Q was in town, and he would aid our Father in heaven with the demise of the Deep State Cabal-horrible, Satanic things were afoot-I could feel it in the air.

Once again, I questioned myself.  Have I, indeed, gone bat shit crazy?

No.  I had not.  The evidence was everywhere.

Turn it UP!

God wants us to be seekers of the truth.  This man’s voice is a healing balm to my soul, and he is the voice behind Serial Brain, another informative and true news venue on YouTube.

It’s your choice

 

 

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.

At Work Forces…

I laughed out loud last evening when I heard that Rage Against the Machine was banned from the set of Saturday Night Live. Apparently, their politics don’t mix-go figure.

I am here to tell you a few things that are FACT, so much so that you can look these things up on USA.gov-and that is what I finally told my brother. Frankly, I sent him a text telling him that there is a high probability of martial law in the very near future. I am going to share the following video, as I find it fair, balanced and from very reliable sources.

As far as I can surmise, and this being my opinion based on certain facts-I think it fair to say that George W. Bush is missing. His Twitter account is now marked private, and his own wife is not following him. Not much to go on, but if you are privy to the QAnon boards, this makes total and complete sense. I also believe that after John McCain and Herbert Walker Bush’s executions, George W. was the next in line, due to the severity of his involvement with 9/11. The mainstream media does not want you to know that 9/11 was a fraud, perpetuated by the very same government we elected. This is treason in its highest form, and horribly upsetting, the lives lost-families torn apart!

Here is what I have found about the Martial Law issue. Basically, we have a curfew and will have the United States military, united with veterans who can freely join in the movement, as can citizens-just like you and me.

See something, say something.

Have two weeks of supplies ready at any given time. Medications, water, First Aid, cash.

President Trump and the US military are fighting as we speak. Fighting to bring our country back to its people, fighting for our very lives.

There is nothing to fear, God’s got this. #WWG1WGA

I

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.