Abuse loves to lurk in darkness. Shine a spotlight on it and holy crap! It screams like one of those baby mandrakes in Harry Potter. Pull it out of the darkness and murk of its lovely dirt…and it goes straight to its attorney.
That’s what happened to me, folks. It didn’t come as any surprise, really. I knew my abusers’ attorney was lurking on my site, sniffing around, but hey! Who knew my tight-ass relatives would actually spend a few hundred of the precious $40k they got from me to actually take action. Wowza! That’s one for the history books.
Click here for the whole story. But cover your ears! Those baby mandrakes are doin' some screamin'!
To donate to my legal defense, please click here. And thank you!
Beware the religious narcissist.
They speak with the omniscient voice of God. Wield the sword of His judgment. Brandish the rod of His power. They wear the mantle of His righteousness. They goin’ straight to Heaven, baby.
And you, you back-slidden heathen? Well, you ain’t!
Exploitation of Holy Scripture is at its finest when you give a narcissist a Bible. In fact, all cult leaders have narcissistic tendencies. You can take it to the bank!
My narcissists “got religion” in 1980. Or so they claimed.
Uh huh, whatever.
Read all about it here!
What an absolutely marvelous idea! Odd that it never occurred to me before. Ya' just never know where inspiration will strike! See what happens when you piss off a writer. They do nasty things. Write inconvenient truths.
And on my blog, I cannot be removed. I cannot be blocked. I cannot be deleted. Genius, sir! Pure genius!
Where do I begin? Of course, there are two sides to every story. I can only speak from my own experience at Fourth.
Which would you like first? The good news, yes? Scholastically, FBCS was excellent. They also maintained discipline and order, seared much Scripture into your memory and taught you right from wrong.
And now, for the bad news. Grab a cuppa, cause we're gonna be here awhile.
I’ve got the leakiest tear ducts on the planets. Seems like I’m always sniffling about this or weeping about that. If it’s not adorable videos of babies making my eyes well up, it’s videos of ecstatic dogs welcoming their master home from serving overseas. Any sentimental YouTube video can get me hullabalooing into my hankie in no time. It came as quite a shock to my husband when we married in 2012. Now he thinks I’m both hysterical funny and extremely soft-hearted.
There’s only one scenario where my tear ducts dry up. My own pain. I simply cannot cry for myself. Tried it. Made all the right noises. Huffed and puffed. Nothin’. Eyes remained dry as a bone.
And it’s a huge problem. Tears aren’t just salty water. Their chemical compositions vary depending on the emotion that stimulated them. Even their structure when seen under a microscope is vastly different depending on the scenario. Personally, I can feel my heart aching behind my eyes. It’s a kind of burning, kind of pressurized sensation behind my eyeballs. Only tears release the pain in both my eyes and my heart. It feels like tears purge the toxic chemicals in the tears, but perhaps I’m just being fanciful.
Which brings us back to the original problem. I can’t cry. And too often my original pain becomes translated into the secondary emotion of anger.
Click here to read the whole article on PsychCentral!
I’m never alone. Denial is my constant companion. She wakes me in the morning, stays close by my side all the day and sings me to sleep at night. I’m never free of her. Never alone. Never totally at peace.
Click here to read whole article!