I Want to go to Mars

Yes, I am well aware of the fact that I used this song in a previous blog this week. I am so enamored of this woman, and it appears as if she wrote the words for all of us, and none of us at the very same time. What I do know is that she knows the pain of betrayal, and possibly the pain of rejection, loneliness and addiction.

So, this is part two of my testimony. There will be an ending, as with all things-but I haven’t written it yet as my life has just begun to unfold. When you accept Christ, you die to this world. I wish I knew that as a child, banished to the kingdom of naught. It is more than enough that I know this now.

I write this blog in order to come alongside my brothers and sisters, the words written by the Holy Spirit and all glory going to God-my writing has taken on a life of its own-I am just the vessel in which He uses to communicate His message of hope and goodwill to all of His children.

“People” have never, ever understood me. Until I read Ezekiel I had no clue that the reason I didn’t fit in was because I was literally not a part of the game called life-I had no interest in popularity, no interest in money, not one iota of interest in what others find interesting. And although there have been times of extreme emotional pain? Each day in bed, each bout of depression and each earth shattering scenario has made me the person I am today-and I like her. I like her very much.

As a matter of fact? It wasn’t until very recently, and due to my salvation that I realized that God doesn’t make junk. My mother had some mental health issues related to her own upbringing. As a young child, I recognized the importance of pleasing her-and I did everything humanly possible to make her realize my profound love for her. I cleaned the house and took care of her Saturday hangovers. Oh, the joy I felt when she called me her little angel! That all changed when I reached the age of 11 and wanted my own friends, my own life.

“Only whores play street hockey,” she said to me one morning as I was placing her Tylenol and coffee on the side of the bed.

I didn’t understand. My heart crumbled into a million pieces and I had to do a double take-this wasn’t the mother I knew and why in the world would she call me a whore? The answers lay in her own insecurities, her need for control and her Borderline Personality Disorder-not officially diagnosed, but I know it wasn’t Narcissism because later in her life she changed, dramatically, and I knew we were loved.

My relationship with her in my formative years was indescribable. I remember picking her Tiger Lillys, telling her I loved her, begging her to love me-but as I grew her resentment of me took on a life of its own. She verbally abused me on a daily basis, then wondered aloud why I had no self esteem. This is when the shameful voices began, so ingrained that I distinctly remember the day that they stopped.

It was a few years after I got sober. I sat down at my computer early one morning, and instinctively knew that something had changed. But what? I called out to Jesus and asked Him, what is happening, am I losing my mind?

No. I was regaining perspective. Gone were the taunting, cruel and unusual whispers of persecution.

You’re a piece of shit. You can’t do anything right. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Lose some weight you pig, why can’t you touch anything without it turning to crap? Nobody loves you, why would they? You don’t deserve love, no whore does.

It was constant and I drank to get rid of the ghosts. I drank to feel something but less than, to quiet the rage and the thoughts that led me to weeks in bed at a time-depression so severe I often thought of offing myself-I just didn’t have the courage.

A few years ago I went to a doctor’s appointment-a specialist. I had been measured at 4’11” my entire life. When the nurse called out 5’1″ I thought she was talking to someone other than myself.

“Umm, can you take that again? I hardly think I’ve grown two inches in the past year,” I laughed.

She did take it again and with the same result.

It finally hit me like a ton of bricks. The shame, self loathing and mocking voices had kept me hunched over. As I grew in my recovery and healing, I stood straight for the first time in 50 years. My self loathing had been so horrific that I had literally crippled myself.

In tomorrow’s blog I will address my rebirth as a born again and how Jesus took me by the hand and taught me the greatest lesson I have learned.

Keep hope alive, dear ones. God is real and true and loyal and He wants you to know that above the din and darkness of this world? There is nothing but love awaiting you.

I Must be Hercules…

What is up with the folks who say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle?  I mean, even Moses couldn’t handle His mission without losing it, and as a matter of fact?  David deemed himself unworthy for his tasks as well.  Who handles a cancer diagnoses, the death of a child, or even the loss of a career?

Hey, you have the wrong person!!!

We cry out to God, then have the unmitigated gall to suppose that He doesn’t know what He’s doing.  That being said, the world is full of beautiful and very horrible things: the only way, truth and life is literally the only way.

I will be writing about my testimony in an upcoming blog, but for now I want to talk about what we do when our world, as we knew it, comes crushing to a bitter end.  How do we pick up the pieces?  How do we not put a bullet through our skulls, or have the faith that our persecution has a distinct beginning and end?

God will not ask you to suffer indefinitely.  

We need to know that there is always a purpose for trials, persecution.  When I think of how my life has been completely transformed (no, not saying I’m a saint) after a lifetime of abuse, despair and hopelessness?   My gratitude for the peace He has given me knows no bounds.  I mean, I went my entire life without a diagnoses of autism, which looking back?  I still catch my breath when I realize that not one single adult, teacher, doctor or family member caught this?  I grieve for the child and young adult who struggled so badly she turned to drug and drink.   Like my brother says, mom and dad were in the midst of their own struggles, their personal demons.  But how, you ask, how in tarnation can a child grow to become a woman and then some without the skills necessary for a healthy and productive life?

The answer will always be Jesus, no matter the question.

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As we drove to church this morning, I thought of my first day of kindergarten.  My golden retriever, Chipper, was so distraught that after she and mom dropped me off?  She ran back to the school and jumped through the screen window-  this happened twice, and after that she was no longer allowed to accompany us.

To my surprise, a tear dropped down my cheek to my chin, from my chin to my poncho.  I believe that Chipper knew full well that her human had some disabilities.  I also believe God sent her for that very reason, to love and nourish and protect.  She was the love of my life, and it is no surprise that her little brother lay at my feet, Jesse Bocephus Happy Hoffmananoff.  His love and devotion to me is not unlike his predecessors, but Jesse is special in a way that defies explanation; and he has been loyal and true and beloved, during the hardest six years of my life.

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I slowly succumb to the nurturing only Jesus can orchestrate, my sweetest boy at my side.

I marvel at what my beloved Jesus has brought me through-yet I know that this newest storm will not be the last.  As followers of Christ we will know the pain and isolation Jesus knew at the foot of the cross.

There is a beginning and an end, the pain does not endureth forever.   If we pick up our cross with the foreknowledge that we have the Holy Spirit in the stead of Jesus, and what the power behind that truly is?

We can do all things through Christ, who strengthens us.

After church I did some researching and finally reached out to a complete stranger on Twitter-I know I was led to him, because he gave me answers to questions that have plagued me for the last few years.

John F. Kennedy, Jr. is dead.

Dwain finds me in the kitchen, regrieving Junior’s death, and beating myself up for my lack of discernment when Jesus whispers-you had hope, there is nothing wrong with hope.

The stranger tells me I should take a break, leave the truther community for a bit.  I am pondering this when my husband runs into the house.

You are NOT going to believe this!!!!

It is 42 degrees here in Pennsylvania.  My husband had given me a set of dragonfly and lights, of the solar variety.  I keep it outside during the day to charge, then bring it inside for the light show at night-red, blue, violet, yellow, red, blue…so surreal.

“Look honey,” my husband says.  “I was getting your light out of the garden and look what flew out of the ground!”

With that said he released the most beautiful red dragonfly.

This is how it has been for years-His presence made visible through the eyes of a child.

Hauntingly Familiar

So I wandered through my gardens today, half heartedly. I usually love my time in the garden, but today I wasn’t feeling it. My mood was great, I just wanted to be sitting on my ass.

In the worst possible way.

I watched as my sister in law drove down are rural Mountain Road, top down on the sportscar.

“HEY MICHELE!”

It didn’t bother me one bit at first. My monster in law lives directly across the street, and let me tell you honey-there is no love lost. She is a narc if there ever was a narc, but since my recovery I see right through the Jezebel spirit. I didn’t speak to her for almost a year because her behavior became so outrageous, so toxic. I wanted no part. In an effort to keep the peace, I forgave her (I am way too forgiving) because it is virtually impossible for me to hold a grudge. She apologized, I agreed to Christmas dinner…

My problem begins when I let my guard down, which, with her anyway? She is so good at the manipulation that she reels me right back in. Don’t get me wrong, she knows I’m on to her-yet she continues her war on my psyche by playing inappropriate games she thinks will bring me down. That isn’t going to happen. However, it is getting to the point that I almost went loco today in front of her “company.”

You see, she had invited my husband’s brother, and my sister in law and her husband who live two hours away. As I pulled at the roots of an old hydrangea-the bells and whistles went off like fireworks on the fourth of July.

Are you fucking serious?,” I yelled in my husband’s direction.

I went on to say how infuckingcredibly rude it was of her to once again invite the entire family sans team Dwain and Michele. Did she not think we could SEE them? Were we invisible?

What in the serious fuckwad.

And then I got mad for my husband. I knew it hurt him, and I was livid.

I grabbed the pup and went for the orchard in the back. I knew damn well they could hear me at the shindig. My Tourette’s kicked in.

WHITE TRASH, MISERABLE BITCH-MANIPULATIVE C***

I didn’t care at that point, in my mind it was far better than appearing like Medusa and hurling the bitch to the ground. I mean, could you just see it? I thought it far better to hurl insults from seven acres away, than to bludgeon her to amidst the catsup and relish.

Instead I stormed into the house. I smoked some medical weed.

Folks, I have found the cure to sobriety amidst the mayhem that is family: cannabis and a Shark vacuum cleaner.

With attachments.

I Want to go to Mars

Yes, I am well aware of the fact that I used this song in a previous blog this week. I am so enamored of this woman, and it appears as if she wrote the words for all of us, and none of us at the very same time. What I do know is that she knows the pain of betrayal, and possibly the pain of rejection, loneliness and addiction.

So, this is part two of my testimony. There will be an ending, as with all things-but I haven’t written it yet as my life has just begun to unfold. When you accept Christ, you die to this world. I wish I knew that as a child, banished to the kingdom of naught. It is more than enough that I know this now.

I write this blog in order to come alongside my brothers and sisters, the words written by the Holy Spirit and all glory going to God-my writing has taken on a life of its own-I am just the vessel in which He uses to communicate His message of hope and goodwill to all of His children.

“People” have never, ever understood me. Until I read Ezekiel I had no clue that the reason I didn’t fit in was because I was literally not a part of the game called life-I had no interest in popularity, no interest in money, not one iota of interest in what others find interesting. And although there have been times of extreme emotional pain? Each day in bed, each bout of depression and each earth shattering scenario has made me the person I am today-and I like her. I like her very much.

As a matter of fact? It wasn’t until very recently, and due to my salvation that I realized that God doesn’t make junk. My mother had some mental health issues related to her own upbringing. As a young child, I recognized the importance of pleasing her-and I did everything humanly possible to make her realize my profound love for her. I cleaned the house and took care of her Saturday hangovers. Oh, the joy I felt when she called me her little angel! That all changed when I reached the age of 11 and wanted my own friends, my own life.

“Only whores play street hockey,” she said to me one morning as I was placing her Tylenol and coffee on the side of the bed.

I didn’t understand. My heart crumbled into a million pieces and I had to do a double take-this wasn’t the mother I knew and why in the world would she call me a whore? The answers lay in her own insecurities, her need for control and her Borderline Personality Disorder-not officially diagnosed, but I know it wasn’t Narcissism because later in her life she changed, dramatically, and I knew we were loved.

My relationship with her in my formative years was indescribable. I remember picking her Tiger Lillys, telling her I loved her, begging her to love me-but as I grew her resentment of me took on a life of its own. She verbally abused me on a daily basis, then wondered aloud why I had no self esteem. This is when the shameful voices began, so ingrained that I distinctly remember the day that they stopped.

It was a few years after I got sober. I sat down at my computer early one morning, and instinctively knew that something had changed. But what? I called out to Jesus and asked Him, what is happening, am I losing my mind?

No. I was regaining perspective. Gone were the taunting, cruel and unusual whispers of persecution.

You’re a piece of shit. You can’t do anything right. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Lose some weight you pig, why can’t you touch anything without it turning to crap? Nobody loves you, why would they? You don’t deserve love, no whore does.

It was constant and I drank to get rid of the ghosts. I drank to feel something but less than, to quiet the rage and the thoughts that led me to weeks in bed at a time-depression so severe I often thought of offing myself-I just didn’t have the courage.

A few years ago I went to a doctor’s appointment-a specialist. I had been measured at 4’11” my entire life. When the nurse called out 5’1″ I thought she was talking to someone other than myself.

“Umm, can you take that again? I hardly think I’ve grown two inches in the past year,” I laughed.

She did take it again and with the same result.

It finally hit me like a ton of bricks. The shame, self loathing and mocking voices had kept me hunched over. As I grew in my recovery and healing, I stood straight for the first time in 50 years. My self loathing had been so horrific that I had literally crippled myself.

In tomorrow’s blog I will address my rebirth as a born again and how Jesus took me by the hand and taught me the greatest lesson I have learned.

Keep hope alive, dear ones. God is real and true and loyal and He wants you to know that above the din and darkness of this world? There is nothing but love awaiting you.

S.O.S.

Original post dated February 2020

I will send out an army to find you!

Good Friday morning to you all. Patriots are in control! Our children are being rescued by the thousands: soon the Deep State will be nothing but a bad dream and our beloved Donald J. Trump is gunning for the pedophiles, the vampires and he will not fail. Find comfort in your families, friends-but most importantly? Dress yourselves in the full armor of God.

My apologies for not writing for a week, but my methods were twofold: [they] shut down my computer immediately after I wrote my blog on Somerset Belenoff. I was infuriated! Second laptop in two years, but hey, this time I will ask for the VPN special package, and I might even throw a few bucks in for the latest program that incudes Grammarly, etc.

The second reason is this-it just so happened that I was kicked off Twitter the very same day! I don’t know how you felt? But the Super bowl (there was an option for Superb Owl in spell check???) half time show took me from the edge of the cliff right on down to the very bottomless pit of despair, rage and nausea.

I know there are those of you who are screaming WHAT’S WRONG WITH IT? Sugar, if you knew what I knew? You’d be whistling Dixie right there beside me, in the pit.

Shakira’s tongue gyrations and Oscar winning viper performance put me off.

I am a bit short on the uptake, but I realized in short order that God wanted me to take a break. I was at the point that I had pretty much sacrificed any semblance of a life for the past three years-although my friends were frantically searching for me, it felt so liberating! I won’t have a new pc for awhile so-from here on out it will be Saturdays or Sundays when my husband’s computer is available.

I felt a push from the Holy Spirit to check in on you all, to let you know I am praying and loving you on all days-and my future blogging will be centered on The Great Awakening and giving you the comfort and information to make as smooth of a transition as possible. I know in my heart that Jesus cleared a path for me to write for this very reason, and please let me know of any questions/concerns you would like me to address.

I was beating myself up pretty good the other day; it surprised me as I hadn’t gone there in some time. I find that there is always a reason and never a coincidence that God allows us to go through any hardship. The last years was a doozy, but that’s why it’s called the Tribulation and not Super Duper Hilarious Happy Hour. There will be days where you will want to give up, or even get scared. Fear is the biggest liar of all time, and this I know because I believed a lifetime of lies that had nothing to do with reality.

If you are feeling broken, call out His name. And one more thing-we are winning the battle, we are the victors in this game-God promised us this.

The meek shall inherit the earth.

Rally Round the Family…

Before I alarm my readers, I want to say that I wrote this in December of last year.  If you are a regular, your eyes would be bugging, you’d be thinking –

For crying out loud?  Is she left unattended on a regular basis, and if so, why?

That reminds me of the time my step son was pulling into the driveway one day last Spring.  I was in the garden as he turned into the driveway.  And then, I wasn’t.  Yep, stepped on a rake-just like you see in the movies-and knocked myself into a concussion.  To this very day?  I mind my business around them, try not to get too close.  Sneaky bastards.

This is the season of my content.  And that is precisely what I was thinking as I stood in my garden and thrilled to the Monarchs and hummingbirds.  I was feeling pretty overcome with emotion, gratitude on a level that is hard to put into words.  This was all I had dreamed of and more.  Not just the garden…

And then, all hell broke loose.

I bent down to watch a particular butterfly, caught by her beauty and grace.  It took approximately three seconds for me to realize that a mother effing praying mantis was eating her head.  There were muffled cries, lots of cursing mother nature, and, inevitably?  The hysterical spraying of said praying mantis with dawn dish soap I usually reserve for my roses.

On that note, have a fab Sunday and hope you enjoy~

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Life goes along at warp speed until something stops you dead in your tracks: As was the case Sunday morning, after a full weekend of loving and socializing, the enemy came to take his due-you don’t think he isn’t out there trying to devour everything good in your life? Au contraire, mon amies! But here’s the good news-call out to Jesus, and you are free. He can’t hurt you if you are covered in the full armor of God.

But what about those times when evil does strike? Well, Abba will protect you in ways you couldn’t imagine, and that’s why I’m alive and writing this blog-my Lord and Savior sent His angels, and they protected me from a massive head injury and internal bleeding.

Just out of Dwain’s truck, exhausted from a weekend of frivolity, I could barely pick up my feet. I had promised my husband that I would collect the myriad of dog toys that lay around our yard, at the whim of my golden retriever, who thinks he has to entertain the grasshoppers and blue jays with his cacophony of babies. It’s so sweet, until it isn’t.

I had my purse in one hand, my drink in the other, AND I was carrying six, that’s SIX dog toys to boot. We have concrete stairs, no railing, and the stairs are ridiculously dangerous. It did not escape my mind, while sitting in the ER, that I had traipsed up and down said steps while drunk, high on cocaine, and worse. Never once even tripped. But yesterday was different. My boots caught on Jesse’s blue elephant, and down I went. I had no hands to put out, and I landed on my noggin.

I immediately called for Dwain, who could hear me, but couldn’t find me. Pain so severe I thought I would vomit, I remained perfectly still until my husband arrived on the scene. I am an EMT, and a CNA-I have volunteered in the Emergency Room, with hospice and prison ministries-I have seen it all and maintained my composure. This is the precise reason I am prone to freaking out when I get hurt-I simply know too much.

Head injury? I was out of my mind hysterical. It didn’t help when my husband picked up my head and his eyes bulged out of his-

“My GOD, is it THAT bad?,” I wail. He didn’t answer, he was too busy putting my ample white behind in his truck, grabbing ice and driving like a bat out of hell, towards the ER I had recently walked out of-after calling out the employees no less. As I walked in, I immediately placed my eyes on Dawn, who calmed me as she directed me towards the door. I knew where to go all right. I just didn’t know if they would help me, or hurt me. They had so much power at that moment.

A friend of mine, Katie, was the charge nurse, praise God. She gave me a hug and an ice pack, told me the doctor would soon be in. As Dwain sat on the bed, this came over the PA System:

ATTENTION: SEPSIS ALERT IN THE ER. SEPSIS ALERT IN THE ER.

“Fabulous,” I murmured. And then it hit me, we were the only people there, aside from an 83 year old man with a dizzy spell. What the Harry???? They were talking about me for crying out loud! I couldn’t figure this out as the knot on my head was the size of a peach, but the wound wasn’t bad, it bled very little.

Dr. Ammons didn’t waste any time checking me over. I was told it would hurt like hell for a few days, but that I was extremely fortunate as if I had hit one inch below, I could have had serious eye trauma. If my cranium had hit a few inches lower? I could have knocked out my front teeth. But I knew about head trauma, and I was frightened. I kept what I knew to myself, forgetting that my man is a first responder.

And so it was, that I woke this morning with a shiner the size of Texas, and a headache to beat the band.

And because of His love? I’ll be strutting my stuff, sooner than you can say the words accident prone.

This Shit Ends Today

I don’t like writing on this subject as I don’t relish speaking ill of my narc, and this despite what she has told innumerous people-I can only imagine the horror. I learned long ago not to engage in any attempts at honesty with the flying monkeys that hover about-they don’t want the truth-it doesn’t fit the family dynamic.

I mean, you’re the loser, right? You’re the one who belongs in a psychiatric ward because they have to tell people that you’re bat shit crazy in order to render you a mental case, not to be believed. That is what a covert narcissist is-these are the unstable geniuses who specialize in manipulating even the feistiest of souls.

I would like to address the stalking issue with my narc. I see you, following-then unfollowing. I want you to know that I do not spend one millisecond thinking about you-lurking will only bring you heartache, as the only way to help other victims is to speak on the matter.

And, speaking on the matter I leave you with this.

All Will Be Revealed

If you’ve heard the rumors that Led Zeppelin is ‘satanic” allow me to calm your nerves – their record label was satanic, but the men themselves were not. Yes, Jimmy Page was into the occult. Yes, he did buy a haunted mansion. I don’t know the details, but after watching the band win the Nobel Peace Prize a few years back? Let’s just say that Jimmy kept smiling over at Robert Plant. The smile was not reciprocated.

When I wrote my blog last evening, I told you about the Ten Days of Darkness and how, against my better understanding, I gave into the idea after seeing so many Anons talk about the subject. I remember seeing a tweet from Praying Medic clearing up the notions.

I see Anons on the boards and Twitter speaking about the ten days of darkness and they have it all wrong. The ten days…was when Q went dark in 2018.

Praying Medic, Twitter

This is a great place to make my point that you should ALWAYS do your own research. Don’t believe a word I say until you can back up my data. I learned this lesson last evening-as it turns out? They were all wrong. I did not lol at this information this morning. I was ticked off at myself. It turns out that none of us understood until this morning what ten days of darkness meant. The next two weeks will be painful, yes, but for the Cabal, not us. That was my gut, but when John F. Kennedy Jr. tweeted a picture of the white house with the caption-“looks Dark” I incorrectly correlated that with confirmation. He was confirming what the president said while addressing the nation last evening, that the next two weeks would be PAINful. Frankly? I wish I could watch them cower.

And speaking of cowering, how will the narcissists of the world cope with the biblical times we are in? Well, there is so much material about this in the bible. I know in my case I go back and forth between having compassion and wanting nothing but my comeuppance. The pain that we targeted individuals feels at the hands of these psychopaths’ toxicity is a worldwide epidemic. In my opinion they have two choices-turn to Jesus and repent by telling the families and friends they ripped out of your lives the truth. Or suck it up buttercups, ’cause baby the wrath of God is coming down upon your perfect heads.

I was honestly looking forward to the break, but then again?

It would have been pure torture not to be able to write to my people, my tribe. I want to give my heartfelt gratitude to the precious souls who read my work-love to you all around the globe.

Your devotion means everything to me. 🙂 I’m out~

The Cabal Fall Down

Folks, I want to preface this blog by asking that you do your own research. I am seeing so many vloggers, bloggers and Twatters-some that I have followed for years-put out faulty and even dangerous information as of late. It angers me beyond the point of reason-many of these so called Patriots are raking it in-and they’ll do anything to get you to notice them; including clickbait, which I find absolutely deplorable.

Speaking of Deplorables-Trump has ended the mainstream media. Rachel Madcow crying, on live television, was worth the wait. The very same asshats who screamed ORANGE MAN BAD are the ones who have something to hide-and trust me, it ain’t good.

It is my staunch opinion that these are the end of days under the festering, murderous regime of literal vampires who stalk their prey right out in the open, as if they are untouchable. Believe me when I say their days are numbered. Tom Hanks, Ellen DeGeneres, Madonna, Courtney Cox and even Julia Louise Dreyfus-you can see them on Twitter, disheveled and withdrawing from Adrenochrome. Harrowing I know, but let’s look at this from a sane perspective.

I am not trying to frighten you, that is the last thing I want to do. Fear is a liar, and it will get you nowhere fast. The best thing you can do right now is have faith that we are in a biblical time in which God is wiping evil off of the face of the earth. You are safe in your homes. God is using this to turn his children to Christ. The Plan (qmap.pub) has been in place for years. Trust Donald J. Trump, trust the military. They will not let us down, this I know for sure.

So what can you do? I am getting my house in order, literally. Cleaning and organizing gives you a sense of control-desperately needed in times such as these. Check in on your elderly neighbors and family, reassure them with the knowledge you have gained-ask of their needs, and play nice with others. I have seen some ugly things over the past week, and although I put myself in the middle of more than an argument or two? I am now focusing on loving the crud out of people who appear to be unlovable. The general population (especially the normies) are frightened. Fear is often hidden by anger-you know how you felt when you first woke up-lost at sea. Find a way to love and comfort those around you.

Americans are overworked, overscheduled and exhausted. Here are a few ideas to help you keep hope alive.

  • Play outdoors. Not only will this give you a much needed break from stress, the oxygen the trees and fauna give off are rejuvenating.
  • Break the rules-eat that donut, take an extra piece of pie-go for the shot of tequila. Not every day but some days. A little self indulgence is liberating.
  • Journal-you’re living in the most amazing time in the history of the world-next to Jesus’ overcoming the grave. Beautiful things are happening all around us-perhaps a gratitude journal? It helps us to see just how well God has provided for us.
  • Reignite your sense of humor-playful people have more resilience.
  • Do nothing. We are not meant for unrelenting stressors. The very act of doing nothing is important.
  • Activate your vagus nerve-the key to calming down. The vagus is the longest of the 12 nerve fibers emanating from the brain. A cheap way to do this is by cold-water face immersion. This reduces your heart rate and blood pressure.
  • Take a hike! Pay attention to God’s creation wherever you are-refigure your relationship to everything around you.
  • Learn a new skill. Always wanted to learn a new language? Paint? Each time we acquire a new skill we strengthen our brains.
  • Get more sleep! According to a new Gallup pole, 40% of Americans report getting less than the recommended 7 hours per night. You may just see a dramatic difference in your physical abilities in three to four years.
  • Emotionally connect with family and friends. Mood follows action. Call an old comrade, send a cheery note to your great Aunt Jane-you get the drift.
  • Get your hands dirty. Exposure to biodiverse soil is good for your microbiome-scientists correlate this with improved mood and sleep.
  • Ask your physician about CBD oil for anxiety. Be wary if a product claims to cure anything-you may be eligible for a prescription for medical marijuana if you have one of several medical conditions. I was diagnosed with CPTSD-there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to wax profane on its ability to help me cope.
  • Focus on one thing, one day at a time. Multitasking is a myth-it simply doesn’t work.
  • Want to relax? Learn how to knit. There are many websites devoted to teaching skills we never had the time to learn before.
  • Try Tai Chi-again, a marvelous way to center yourself.
  • Plan a dream vacation. You may not be able to book it, but the dream of better days ahead is a panacea to the soul.

And last but never least-pray. Read the Psalms, the New Testament, any scripture you find brings you solace.

Read Psalm 91-not only my favorite, but a Psalm for miracles-

For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

I Want to go to Mars

Yes, I am well aware of the fact that I used this song in a previous blog this week. I am so enamored of this woman, and it appears as if she wrote the words for all of us, and none of us at the very same time. What I do know is that she knows the pain of betrayal, and possibly the pain of rejection, loneliness and addiction.

So, this is part two of my testimony. There will be an ending, as with all things-but I haven’t written it yet as my life has just begun to unfold. When you accept Christ, you die to this world. I wish I knew that as a child, banished to the kingdom of naught. It is more than enough that I know this now.

I write this blog in order to come alongside my brothers and sisters, the words written by the Holy Spirit and all glory going to God-my writing has taken on a life of its own-I am just the vessel in which He uses to communicate His message of hope and goodwill to all of His children.

“People” have never, ever understood me. Until I read Ezekiel I had no clue that the reason I didn’t fit in was because I was literally not a part of the game called life-I had no interest in popularity, no interest in money, not one iota of interest in what others find interesting. And although there have been times of extreme emotional pain? Each day in bed, each bout of depression and each earth shattering scenario has made me the person I am today-and I like her. I like her very much.

As a matter of fact? It wasn’t until very recently, and due to my salvation that I realized that God doesn’t make junk. My mother had some mental health issues related to her own upbringing. As a young child, I recognized the importance of pleasing her-and I did everything humanly possible to make her realize my profound love for her. I cleaned the house and took care of her Saturday hangovers. Oh, the joy I felt when she called me her little angel! That all changed when I reached the age of 11 and wanted my own friends, my own life.

“Only whores play street hockey,” she said to me one morning as I was placing her Tylenol and coffee on the side of the bed.

I didn’t understand. My heart crumbled into a million pieces and I had to do a double take-this wasn’t the mother I knew and why in the world would she call me a whore? The answers lay in her own insecurities, her need for control and her Borderline Personality Disorder-not officially diagnosed, but I know it wasn’t Narcissism because later in her life she changed, dramatically, and I knew we were loved.

My relationship with her in my formative years was indescribable. I remember picking her Tiger Lillys, telling her I loved her, begging her to love me-but as I grew her resentment of me took on a life of its own. She verbally abused me on a daily basis, then wondered aloud why I had no self esteem. This is when the shameful voices began, so ingrained that I distinctly remember the day that they stopped.

It was a few years after I got sober. I sat down at my computer early one morning, and instinctively knew that something had changed. But what? I called out to Jesus and asked Him, what is happening, am I losing my mind?

No. I was regaining perspective. Gone were the taunting, cruel and unusual whispers of persecution.

You’re a piece of shit. You can’t do anything right. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Lose some weight you pig, why can’t you touch anything without it turning to crap? Nobody loves you, why would they? You don’t deserve love, no whore does.

It was constant and I drank to get rid of the ghosts. I drank to feel something but less than, to quiet the rage and the thoughts that led me to weeks in bed at a time-depression so severe I often thought of offing myself-I just didn’t have the courage.

A few years ago I went to a doctor’s appointment-a specialist. I had been measured at 4’11” my entire life. When the nurse called out 5’1″ I thought she was talking to someone other than myself.

“Umm, can you take that again? I hardly think I’ve grown two inches in the past year,” I laughed.

She did take it again and with the same result.

It finally hit me like a ton of bricks. The shame, self loathing and mocking voices had kept me hunched over. As I grew in my recovery and healing, I stood straight for the first time in 50 years. My self loathing had been so horrific that I had literally crippled myself.

In tomorrow’s blog I will address my rebirth as a born again and how Jesus took me by the hand and taught me the greatest lesson I have learned.

Keep hope alive, dear ones. God is real and true and loyal and He wants you to know that above the din and darkness of this world? There is nothing but love awaiting you.