I Cut You Off……..

 

I have NEVER heard of this band, but I can tell you this-I will be listening from now on.

When it comes to Narcissistic Personality Disorder, I know a few things, and what I know brings me to my knees. The echoes of earlier years, when she and I were close and loving. The survivor’s guilt I feel, which makes no sense as I didn’t get away unscathed-anorexia, bulimia, OCD, CPTSD, alcoholism, depression and crippling anxiety? Yet I worry about the fate of my sister, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.

This is what victims need to come to terms with: whether you lose a lover, a mother or a friend-you are losing the idea of who you thought they were.

And if you offer a hand to help them up and out of the muck and mire? Be prepared to see them walk away, because they don’t think they need help-they don’t think they have done anything wrong. Their brain is misfiring and they will think absolutely nothing of dragging you down with them, so FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT to ensure that you are physically, emotionally and spiritually prepared to go to war.

Then, once you have gone no contact? Enjoy the return of your creativity, self esteem and individuality.

No one can do this for you. Just remember: you are missing the ghost of the person you thought them to be.

Blood on Your Lies

I was, okay-okay-you guessed it-on a hike with the golden today, and we came to my favorite part of the trail, the bridge above the bubbling creek, where pup likes to grab a drink and mom watches the movement of the water. I love to make the analogy with the area of water that remains stagnant, as opposed to the water that flows with life and vigor right beside it. I have made the association with Jesus and the Living Waters-always moving, always strong, filled with purpose and direction; as opposed to the murky stillness, going nowhere, fighting nothing.

12633721_10204014140313282_2575717067732030192_o

While I don’t like to bring politics into the blogging arena, there is a time for every season, and for me? This is the season to stand up, speak out, and fight, fight, fight. Whether Democrat or Republican, Independent or Freedom Fighter/Patriot-it’s not important, nor relevant at this stage of the game. You’ve heard about the “memo,” but have you felt the plight of millions upon millions of people who have been hoodwinked, hogtied, and just plain tread upon? The statistics are bleak, so I won’t go there. But what lies beneath the memo? What are the real atrocities that have gone unnoticed because the powers that be want you sleeping, otherwise entertained and silent.

Our country and its people are waking up to the notion that Big Brother has been the enemy all along. The Elite, Illuminati, Deep State: whatever name you give them, they have deceived, destroyed and dehumanized us for long enough. Not only have we been lied to, but the plight of the children who become pawns in the game of pedophilia, human trafficking and torture. The Rockefellers and Rothschilds of this nation run the show, and the stock market proves my point. The music industry, Hellyweird, even late night talk show hosts: most of them under the mass hypnotism of MK Ultra, a fate they sadly brought upon themselves for selling their souls to the enemy.

It’s time. It is time we join the Great Awakening, as human beings who have suffered long enough at the hands of sinister energy. No time to be frightened, God has this, but we can no longer ignore the war between good and evil-I am good and angry. I roar like a lion at the seeds of treason and murder, shaking my head at the criminally insane.

They have been pulling our strings for years and years. Don’t listen to the MSM (Main Stream Media)as they want you to think you have already lost; that the world is a dark and treacherous place-thinkglobal warming, the Obama administration, or HRC and the minions who have died at her hands.

The time is here and the time is now.

FIGHT with all you have, and let no man quiet your voice.

Let’s take our country back, one broken piece at a time.

I Cut You Off……..

 

I have NEVER heard of this band, but I can tell you this-I will be listening from now on.

When it comes to Narcissistic Personality Disorder, I know a few things, and what I know brings me to my knees. The echoes of earlier years, when she and I were close and loving. The survivor’s guilt I feel, which makes no sense as I didn’t get away unscathed-anorexia, bulimia, OCD, CPTSD, alcoholism, depression and crippling anxiety? Yet I worry about the fate of my sister, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.

This is what victims need to come to terms with: whether you lose a lover, a mother or a friend-you are losing the idea of who you thought they were.

And if you offer a hand to help them up and out of the muck and mire? Be prepared to see them walk away, because they don’t think they need help-they don’t think they have done anything wrong. Their brain is misfiring and they will think absolutely nothing of dragging you down with them, so FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT to ensure that you are physically, emotionally and spiritually prepared to go to war.

Then, once you have gone no contact? Enjoy the return of your creativity, self esteem and individuality.

No one can do this for you. Just remember: you are missing the ghost of the person you thought them to be.

The Sun Goes Down Alone

 

Before I tell the tale (Passion, Intrigue, Flea Bombs!!!! Murder..) I have to share what happened in church yesterday.  You just can’t make this stuff up…so, I’m having a rough week in terms of my self esteem, snakes and figuring out what I want to do with my life…or, more like, what I am capable of doing for the next month or so while I recover from Lyme.  I am NOT a good patient, I do NOT rest nearly enough, and my OCD will not let me rest until my house is clean, the dishes and laundry are done…when I was hit by a Harley years ago, my father thrilled at any doctor’s orders I broke, which were many.  I think back and now I know why-my mother, may she rest in peace, took what the doctors said verbatim.  She didn’t quit smoking; I understand that now as well.  But when a MD said jump, she simply asked if she would need a parachute.

So, I am finally back to church.  I missed my family so very much, and a more joyous morning I can’t remember-until the sermon.  My pastor started out by saying:

“So, what if conspiracy theories are true?  Does anyone really care?  (He used Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson’s deaths to prove his point-what if they were alive?  Who cares right?”

Ok, you all know that once a week I write about supposed conspiracy theories.  I know they are true stories, but fighting against MSM and their insipid drivel is pointless.  God will wake you up in his timing.  But I do remember a line from Ezekiel that said

Tell them even though they won’t believe you.  Tell them anyway.”

Okay, he isn’t talking about me, that could not be.  And then this:

“No matter what venue, the news, radio or Christian bloggers; we Christians blather on about things of no importance.  We talk too much, us Christians.”

15338796_10154707525572889_5845460342509769095_n

Every member of that church knows I blog.  Actually, I am surprised I wasn’t run out of town-but nothing, no stares or put downs.  Ok, everything isn’t about me, and I know my pastor’s character, it isn’t like him to bash, well, anyone.  He calls Satan ‘Stan,’ for crying out loud.   Yet, as the day went on I became convinced that he was talking about me.  Had someone complained?  After all, I had been sick and I am sure I wasn’t expected at this particular service.

So, in a funk, I laid on the couch and watched old movies-a particularly light and funny one first-Chasing Steve-in which Sandra Bullock plays a delightfully bonkers but brilliant crossword puzzle writer, her parents set her up on a blind date and who comes to the door?  Bradley Cooper-and who in their right mind would say no to him???  Hilarity ensues, and I recommend this movie if you need a lift in your loafers.

Then we have the fucking bugs from HELL to talk about.  I haven’t met a tick or flea who doesn’t love my blood.  I hate them with a hatred that simmers and stews.  I become paranoid, neurotic and driven-if my golden is itchy, it’s bloody WAR.  An unholy war at that.  Diatomaceous earth rules the day-it is sprinkled in every crevice of my home.  Then we have the “natural” flea spray (which really does nothing but make me feel better and smells like cinnamon and cloves) and, finally, the Flea Carpet powder, which I use on rare occasions-like this morning.  Take that! you creepy, malignant blood suckers.

I’ll be AOK.  Soon as the boys of Summer are annihilated?  I’ll be sitting pretty-I praise God through the Storm.  My brother is coming to visit this week and diligence must prevail-either that or I’ll be checking myself into a nice padded cubicle.  I hear they have room service.

affection board broken broken hearted
Is this the end of us?

 

As Tragedy Unfolds….There Remains a Ray of Hope….

I was just upstairs, folding laundry, the news on the big screen was overwhelming. I cried out in utter and complete despair. And the Holy Spirit roared, not whispered as is the norm, but roared:

THEY ARE SAFE NOW. THEY ARE WITH ME, IN HEAVEN. GRIEVE NOT FOR THEM, BUT FOR THE CHILDREN AND PARENTS LEFT BEHIND.

As the entire world turns its attention to the murder of 17 children in Florida, I see and hear a new frequency. As the news anchor, reporting from the school, tried to say the names of the victims, he broke down. Dead air for a few moments, then his grief poured out for all to see-he simply couldn’t do it. The station went to commercial break, and I ran downstairs to grab my pc. When we are feeling our most useless, when despair trumps peace, when we deem ourselves incapable of living one more day under the siege of terror? There is triumph unseen.

I made myself watch every single child and one teacher’s face. The air around me became overwhelming, the confines of my bedroom could not hold my melancholy. The police had been to this troubled child’s house on numerous occasions. The FBI, now recanting their statement, told the entire nation (in a press conference yesterday) that they knew of him. He had stated, online, that he wanted to grow up and be a school shooter, but they “couldn’t find out who made the comment.” Please.

And now, as was God’s intent, I am quite sure-we are placing less trust in our government officials, and more in the divinity of Jesus himself. The victims are in paradise, indeed. What worries me is the children left behind, the ones who face trauma each and every day-just entering that school would take an act of strength unseen by many in this day to day world. The parents of the victims, the brothers, sisters and extended families-they have our prayers, our sympathies, but more than this? They have a God who is ALMIGHTY, and He alone can comfort them, He alone.

We need to put God back into this country’s vocabulary. We need to hold one another accountable for our actions, and we need to get down on our knees and pray.

Free Fallin

I was running at warp speed this morning, running late for a doctor’s appointment (I am always running late, but whateve)I cursed out loud when I realized I had forgotten my phone.

“Son of a BITCH,” I yelled, the dog staring at me from the jeep, cats flying-I ran in for my Samsung. As I pulled out of the driveway I realized, with irritation, that I had spaced out on feeding the cat menagerie. My Tourette’s increasing by the second.

As I arrived at said office, I was told the last receptionist to update my information (new system, BLERG)did so incorrectly, and I tried my best to be patient, as the office manager asked me questions I had answered 6,789 times before. My thought cloud was rated RRR, and the worst was yet to come.

“Step on the scale, please,” the robotoid nurse said.

I am, presently, still fighting the eating disorder battle-forty years after it first began. If there is one thing I loathe, it’s a lame ass nurse who just doesn’t get it, and she didn’t.

“143 pounds,” she announced. I almost throat punched her.

Does it not say in my chart that I have a background of anorexia and am not to be told my weight? Oh, yes, I see the BIG PINK WRITING on the front of my chart. I took my coat off, was weighed again-and now I have that little voice in my head, chanting “you were just diagnosed with Lyme, but no matter, increase your hikes and begin Pilates, STAT.” (I gained all of two pounds, but it may as well have been two hundred.)

And so it went. I made a trip to Target, went directly to the pharmacy for my Doxycycline, then began the thirty minute drive home. I switched into my hiking clothes and began the trek to antler shed heaven, just across the street.
Halfway through my legs like lead, my stomach churning-I wondered out loud what the heck I was doing, trying to prove. The terrain is treacherous, icy and full of ways to hurt yourself. Did someone say JAGGER BUSH???

I wanted to call my husband to come pick me up. He works an hour away.

“Oh, just grow a pair and do this, you aren’t in Antarctica, for crying out loud,” I mumbled.

As Jesse and I wove through and around the icy stretches, I managed to get my boot stuck in ten inches of water-I had stepped on ice I thought would hold me-and the slow motion free-fall was harrowing. I am AMAZED I didn’t break my leg.

“JESSE!!!!!” I scream for my dog, he runs right over and sniffs the grass, then walks away.

“What the Fazuck?,” I say to him. Some hero you are.

Upon arriving home, FINALLY, my husband phoned to tell me that a surprise would soon be delivered. Friends, can I just say that my house is livable, but in no way whatsoever is it other people friendly. I began doing dishes and laundry, tears running down my cheeks, wondering if I will ever make it to the couch. I am drained. I am raising the white flag. I am a HOT MESS IN HIKING BOOTS.

Sweet Jesus, WHEN are they coming? WHO is coming? Is it a new frig, OMG do I have to clean that behemoth out today???? I sat down on the couch, tears dripped into my coffee, my butt cheeks sore from the fall. There is a knock on the door.

And as I prepare for the worst, I am given a dozen of the most insanely beautiful roses I have ever seen-mauve in their majesty. Attached is a big pink Teddy bear I will take to bed with me, after I clean up this mess and hug the crap out of my husband. 🙂

Exhale

I have never given you all a list of my Favorite Bloggers, and there is no time like the present, so ladies and gents, (drum roll, please :)) here are my top ten bloggers, but I am sure the list will grow in time.

A Fractured Faith

Beauty Beyond Bones

Sophie Harris-Purpale

Ben’s Bitter Blog

Little Fears

Becky’s Mental Mess

and last but not least,

James Edward Skype

That list is not exclusive, and who am I kidding-I don’t deem myself influential in the least, but I want them to know how much they mean to me.

Now, to the blog. I am in what you may call a dark place at this moment; and frankly, because of my faith, it troubles me. I had much worse symptoms from Lyme disease four years ago, and even though the lymph node in my groin grew to the size of an ORANGE, it didn’t trouble me-perhaps because of my doctor’s refusal to even LOOK at my leg (didn’t even ask me to take down my pants) three visits in a row, and I supposed he knew of what he spoke.

I went to the prayer room in church yesterday. I have a problem with talking about my problems. Crappy therapists and being deemed unworthy by my sister’s side of the family, my mother, and many others-well, let’s just say I truly feel that my issues are nothing, especially compared to others-who have a much tougher road to hoe.

There was a line at the door. I have entered this prayer room approximately three times in three years. I sat down to wait…just as I was about to stand up, the children’s choir began a rousing rendition of Let It Be, and I was lost to them-I went back to my seat to listen and enjoy.

“That’s fine. I was only going because Sherry said I should,” I explained to my husband. At the end of the service, Kevin-my favorite Elder, kneeled down before me to ask if I wanted him to pray with me, so I ran back-hoping no one would notice. I tell you-when one of our congregants stand at the Prayer Room door? All eyes are upon them during and after the session.

Is she crying?

I wonder what’s wrong?

Maybe it’s because she had to cut her hair….poor thing.

Just because I write a blog, and try to be as transparent as possible? Well, that doesn’t mean I am fond of anyone knowing my business. But we are a church, a family of broken souls in need of Jesus, in need of one another.

As Kevin prayed over me, salty tears of fright and sadness cleansed my face.

“You probably think this is stupid,” I said.

And just then, God spoke through the man kneeling in front of me:

“This is not STUPID and you are only HUMAN. It is normal to be afraid of the unknown. We like to be in control, and that is perfectly natural,” Kevin assured me.

I need to let go and let God. He has never let me down in the past, and I see no reason on the planet not to trust that He is with me now. Yet the fear whispers behind closed doors, and it is up to me to silence the scary monsters who have played me like a violin-I won’t listen to you anymore.

For when I am weak, only then am I strong.