Life or Crimson Pools?

She felt the organ, the size of a closed fist, beating deeply within her body, her spirit, her being.

Her thoughts took her back in time to the Egyptians that therorized the heart was the seat of the soul, thoughts, and emotion.

Her's had once been tightly closed, as a fist, but was opening slowly, cautiously, and fearfully.

Though the emptiness had been filling, there were still stabbing pains emanating from the organ she had so closely guarded.

At times she she sensed the trickling of ruby colored beads oozing from the still open wounds.  They slowly moved down her beating heart and changed their paths with every breath she took, each fluttering movement of her chest.

She wondered about their final destination. Would they come together, nourish the organ that had been bound in barbed wire, feed it, and allow it to fully open, and experience life the way her Creator had intended?

Or would they find their way into a crimson pool on the floor draining, not only life sustaining nourishment, but her soul as well?

She hoped, dreamed, and wished for the former, but continued to fear the latter.

Respectively,

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Isaiah

Why should I post this you ask? Because this is my blog and I can post what I want.

Today a friend of mine posted this video on Facebook and it had me in tears. Being a Christian I know the chapter to which he was referring.

I'm not here to convince anyone of my beliefs in any way. This affected me, the video. That is why I'm posting it.

Jewish man turns to Jesus and explains why in a way you never heard before!
WOW! This Jewish man turns to Jesus and explains why in a way you never heard before! His testimony goes viral with 5 million views and shakes the Jewish world - PLEASE SHARE!!!! by One For Israel Ministry follow & like us: www.facebook.com/oneforisraelMore stories at: www.imetmessiah.com
Posted by One For Israel Ministry on Saturday, May 9, 2015

53 Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?

² For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.
³ He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
⁴ Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
⁵ But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
⁶ All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.
⁷ He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.
⁸ He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.
⁹ And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.
¹⁰ Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.
¹¹ He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities.
¹² Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death: and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

And then there is this:

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Love Is In The Air

I've been in a relationship for about 5 years, give or take, now. There are no words to describe my love for this man. His smile is contagious, his laugh even more so.

He knows more about me than I know myself. He notices the way I speak, the way I walk, the way I look, the way I breathe. He notices the way I do my hair, my gestures, and how my makeup has been applied.

He cares about ME, me. He knows my entire story, from several sources, and he still wants to see me.
I don't see him often enough, but the relationship has been long and very good for me.

I am officially announcing I have the best psychiatrist in the world. You read correctly, the best, the very best!

I saw him yesterday. What he had to tell me was incredible. He said he's never seen me so happy, really happy. My breathing, for the first time in years was normal, the look in my eyes genuine, and my gestures flowed, and I was relaxed, he told me.

Before I left his office he told me the last time he saw me he couldn't believe the difference, the transformation, I had made. I credit it to him. He says I'm doing a lot of the work myself, which I do try, but I admit I need support from time to time.

The day he retires I will be devastated, but he has given me the tools I need to work with. He knew what I was dealing with before I did, but I didn't believe him. Finally with his help, as well as the help from others, I've accepted the fact that I am dealing mainly with PTSD.

We're working on adjusting my medications to treat that as the major demon I have been facing. He said it's so much easier to treat me now that I am accepting what he, two therapists, and other officials, have been telling me for years. 

So here's to my acceptance, my recovery (which will be ongoing), and the man in my life that has stood by my side all these years, even when I wasn't there for myself.

Doctor, I thank you, and I love you. Thank you for helping my wings to truly emerge.

xoxoxo

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The More I See

I've been back in my house for a bit now trying to get it in order.

Today was my first "real" day to have the time to clean the addition that was put on for my mom, put things away, etc.

The more I found, the more livid I became. Of all the people that lived down in this part of the house it seems the only ones that took care of it was my oldest daughter and her husband.

There's pink fingernail polish all over the granite, gum on the wall, ruined sheets. The coverlet I had bought for Mom had a LARGE marker stain on it. I had always wondered why it was neatly folded and put away. Thank Goodness I was able to get it out finally. Was it really that hard to put in the washer?

Crystal knobs are broken off of the cabinets and closet doors, there's marker all over one of the built in benches. The oven and fridge were a total mess, holes in the rugs. Trash compactor broken, and pee stains all over the mattress we bought for mom, I could go on and on FOREVER.

The dresser is broken, the chairs have things pulled off of them. Good Lord, these were supposed to be "adults," and they wouldn't even respect the fact that their father and I had built this for my mom?

I think the part that upsets me the most is the marker and the fingernail polish. Really? They couldn't have washed the coverlet? Let someone know of the marker on the built in so it could be taken care of, and is it really that difficult to put down news paper, or something to make sure your kid didn't get pink polish everywhere on the granite?

They were given free rent, free utilities, etc. but had no respect for a home that belonged to someone else? They weren't thankful enough to take care of a place they were allowed to live for free? I'm glad their father didn't see all of the mess.

Thank Goodness  my oldest and her husband respected it, and were appreciative enough to treat the place as if they had built it, and I know my oldest son wouldn't have allowed his son to mark all over the addition with marker, he has too much respect for that as well.

I was able to get most of it taken care of. Mom would be happy.

Yeah, ok, that was my rant for the week. Carry on.

xoxo

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The Short of The Long Tonight

Well he found me lying in the floor unconscious, took me to the doc, another seizure. Fun times.

Then the psych diagnosed me with Stockholm Syndrome. Awesome. More therapy.

"Stockholm syndrome, or capture-bonding, is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and sympathy and have positive feelings toward their captors, sometimes to the point of defending and identifying with the captors."

The doc is pretty freaked about the seizures. They wouldn't allow me to walk, had to use a wheelchair, but he made Harley sounds for me and pushed me really fast so I could feel the wind in my face. Can you say BEST DOCTOR EVER?

Met the woman that lives in back of me. Turns out we have A LOT in common with what we've been through.

More lab work tomorrow to check for a few things. Not gonna make light of it, serious shit going down. On the upswing I've gone from a 28 (basically size 8) to a 26-27 in jeans (size 6). Please God, don't let me lose weight in my boobs. I paid a lot of $$ for those puppies.

So tired from the seizure, gotta sleep awhile so I can do it all again tomorrow, hopefully seizure free this time.

And Susan, have fun reading. Even when you don't leave nasty comments, I can still see you're checking me out so you can burn up the phone lines with gossip. I think it's funny you have this weird fascination with my life. I guess you should, you're in the book.  Oh, and I'm not checking to see if you are reading my posts, I check my audience and stats daily, all of them. I guess some things don't change, ya know, like when you were a girl taking the "neighborhood gossip from house to house," as Denia put it. Grow up, my God woman you're almost 70. 

Enough for tonight, this chick has to sleep. Gotta be beautiful tomorrow and spread some glittery sunshine.

Delirious from lack of sleep and the seizure(s),

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The Spell Is Difficult To Break

It's been a very long several days. I'm tired and emotional. I'm also angry, very angry, at myself.

Even though there were very good times in the past 27 years that will be cherished, I logically can see what the doctors had been telling me was true, but emotionally it's difficult to break away.

I find myself continually taking the blame, saying I'm sorry, falling into the same patterns I had fallen into for years.

Do I hate my ex husband? No, no I don't. It's confusing though, the emotional turmoil, the roller coaster, the still wanting to seek approval out of habit. The fear of being abandoned still haunts me, and I'll get more into that later.

I want to make sure everyone knows this is not in any way a "smear campaign," but rather speaking up for myself after being quiet for so long.

Is my ex husband a "bad man?" No, he isn't. I feel he truly believes what he says. I'm not out to degrade him in any way, but to work out what I've been through, and hopefully help others in the same situation see and re-evaluate.

I know this isn't really a "post," but I needed to "touch base," to tell my story, to heal and move forward with my life.

I will not deny he has done great things for me, and with me, but there was a side no one saw except the professionals, and it took them years to open my eyes.

I guess tonight I just needed to say I wish him well in his new life, I wish no ill will upon him.

I'm tired though. I'm tired of continuing to live in the shadows of untruths. It's time I speak, and it's time to heal, it's time to write, it's time to encourage.

Until later,

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Salivating Drops of Poison

On the move again, although, I must say this last stop was eventful, challenging, and oh so fulfilling.

One thing that shall stay seared in my mind is knowing the hearts of many are not pure. I should know that by now, after all my parents drilled it into my brain. I ignored them for the longest time. I ignored it until I was the target of those my parents warned me of. Their tongues continue wag, and I have to laugh.

Still, even after seeing the evilness, and gossipy nature first hand, and clicking the block option on all of my sites, my phone and email, I still believed most people were inherently good.

After all I've been through, seen, and heard, I see, or want to see, the good in people, most of them anyway.

After I moved into this last place, within a day, the entire neighborhood knew all about my life. Much of it was news to me, as a lot of it has been over the last two years.

The knives that some attempted to plunge into my back, were actually amusing. The Diva learned a lesson: catch the knife, sincerely smile, and hand it back. I've known for awhile that those that have no life seem to like to live through mine, and that's ok. Mine is a roller coaster of sorts, and as they say, "truth is stranger than fiction."

Saturday, as we load the truck for the next phase, I shall sincerely smile, hand the knife that was intended for placement between my lat muscles, back to the one that tried to insert it. I've stayed quiet for months. I saw through the plan, the evilness, and the blackness, that was intended for me when we first met. Saturday will be the perfect time the reveal to this keeper of knives, and a salivating tongue, I knew her intentions from our first meeting.

See, there is a difference between mistakes and plans carefully laid to harm another.

I believe I should be wearing my Go Pro when I hand back the knife, covered with the poison of a wagging tongue, and a gossiping storyteller. I'll smile sincerely, and tell her thank you for teaching me I have an unbreakable bond.

Wishing you a good night.

xoxo

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