Recovery: Well Enough To Choose Maturity.

We all have faults and weaknesses which follow us for years. The lament of those around me was: "Cybe. Why can't you grow up?". I learned to hate that type of question. No matter what strategy I tried, I still ended up in tears and basically throwing a three-year-olds tantrum.

The other seemingly intractable part of my make up was the total emotional meltdown I began experiencing every seven to ten years of my life. I remember being hysterical with a casual friend one summer at camp. I was moving into seventh grade. My cousin was just pounding on me for all the usual things. No matter what I did, it wasn't enough.

If I dutifully washed down all the counters in the kitchen, my cousin's husband would shame me with the statement that his wife POLISHED all the counters! It was hard not calling him the bold faced liar he was. But, my internal emptiness kept growing because there was no praise for anything I did anywhere. I was dying inside.

My camp friend was shocked and since she knew nothing about my home life, pushed me away with the tired retort that I was just pitying myself and to grow up. I stopped sharing and by my senior year in High School was a clinically depressed and disassociating mess. I went through hours of not properly relating to reality with the thought: "You haven't happened yet." I was too scared to really tell anyone what was going on in my mind, but I came close to being put in a mental hospital.

Jumping from the frying pan into a fire, I left home at 19 and married a man twelve years older then I. He had levels of child abuse in his history which I still have trouble relating to. We were two messed up people, who thought we could "fix" each other. FORGET IT! You can only "Fix" yourself. I shudder to remember what my poor x-husband must have thought and felt when he saw me have one of my almost monthly "fits".

I'd just start screaming and crying. I'd lose the ability to feel, see and hear. I'd come out of thse things after maybe twenty to forty-five minutes. My x-husband believed once he got me well, than I could help him get well. Over and over professionals, friends and my x-husband questioned me: "Cybe, why can't you grow up?" I didn't know, but was building a huge "shame" file around the general issue.

Next major break was when, after ten years of marriage, I found my husband was having sex with boys as young as ten. I was so clueless as how to take care of myself I thought the only way to get out of the marriage was suicide. I tried it and failed. But I came mighty close to making it out of this life, long before salvation and healing.

Once on my own I collected sexual partners of either sex and tried to rebuild my life. After another few years I was unable to complete sentences. It seemed that each time I fell apart I was just a little more broken, then the last time. I was forty and in my Md's office as an emergency psychiatric case. My regular doctor wasn't there and a stranger opened the door.
My body literally arced up in the air on the gurney. I made a crucial decision. I was going to seriously look into being committed because it was clear to me, that I was unable to manage my own life.

I told this story elsewhere in this blog, but I will never, ever forget what this kind man told me.

"You don't change (not being able to grow up and stop crying), because you CAN'T change. You have a problem with your brain. This is physical, not phycological,"

Well, here I am now fifty four and something so wonderful happened to me this week. A friend at church and I were at a District Meeting together. When I saw her, I waved at her. She misunderstood my hand gesture. I was just saying "Hi". She thought I wanted her to stop and talk to me. The choir was singing and the sound system was very loud. She was trying to get the person playing the organ to turn it down, as it was drowning out the choir. Because this lovely lady likes me and realizes I can't see the more subtle gestures people make, when they like you, but can't take the time to chat, she tried to talk to me.

She was angry, pressured and busy. She tried to explain about the problem with the organ music being too loud. Due to the noise level, I didn't hear part of what she said. I was standing, swaying and twisting to the beautiful song. I heard: "...choir can't be heard above all of THAT!" Since I didn't hear the beginning of her statement, I thought I was being told to sit down and not upset the choir performance!

Friends, even a year ago, this would have driven me to tears. But, Wednesday August 15, 2007 I experiences the following. At first I was insulted that I was being talked to like that. What tempered my anger was the very real felt experience of the love of the people of my church for me. I've been corrected by several people at church for various infractions. They are always gentle and kind. I felt a little wave of niceness wash over me, remembering these totally new experiences.

Not totally spiritual, I then noticed an entire flock of clapping, singing and NOISY people around me. I wanted to turn around and jump on them for singing! I got jumped on and I know I wasn't singing! I began to ask God to help me keep things in perspective. If I kept my thoughts to myself, and was wrong about the situation - I wouldn't have to apologize later. Oh, what a lovely lesson THAT has been for me. I decided to check with my friend after service, because I was clueless as to what I had done to get such a strong rebuke.

When I got a chance to talk to her, the full story came to light. We had totally misunderstood one another! She was spitting mad at someone else! It wasn't about me at all! (Man, am I thankful I quietly prayed instead of getting snooty with the people around me who were singing)

The real miracle of this exchange then hit me hard. I hadn't cried, hadn't been anywhere near wanting, or needing to cry! I wanted to grab my friend and say: "Oh, please rebuke me, now that I can handle it, I want to practice!" Thanks to another bit of divinely inspired wisdom, I didn't say that either.

At church they talk about having to give your mind and heart new experiences in the present to argue with your dysfunctional past. The love I receive from my fellow church members is real and I've learned I can trust them to be kind and gentle. It is perfectly acceptable to question what I'm told. I don't have to lie and smile when I'm angry and upset. As long as I'm gentle and respectful, questions and even disagreement, are fine.

I still can't believe I am leaving the world of constant tears behind. I'm beginning to take responsibility in areas of my life I've stubornly refused to deal with before. Like physical health and taking better care of my room and belongings. God is teaching me different kinds of patience as I work with the church website. I rarely think about my past these days. I'm too busy living a REAL life. A life where a therapy appointment isn't the most interesting part of the day.

Recovery: Self-discipline Revisited.

More than anything, my goal for this blog is to document recovery from mental illness and child abuse. I am so far into new territory (in my recovery), I am almost lost for words to describe where my life is going.

My early role models and personal habits were warped and dysfunctional at best. I learned to fear being an adult, taking responsibility and most of all self-discipline. I equated all of the above with a torture rack of unending misery and pain.

I mis-learned all these things. I had what has been described by M. Scott Peck PhD. and others as "undisciplined discipline" My odyssey with God is teaching me something tender, sweet and new.

For those of you who don't believe in God, I apologize. I have no substitute. I only have my experience. For my money, Jesus Christ is the best thing going. I owe all my healing to Him and Him alone.

Last Monday night, just before climbing into bed, I brushed my tummy roll and felt a twinge of awareness. Man, I've gained weight. I'd been given some beautiful clothes by a member of my church that were 3x in size. They were a little big on me, but not THAT much too big! I began to question how I could deal with losing weight God's way and not just plunge willy-nilly into another crash diet which would only lead to failure, more weight gain and a sense of futility.

I prayed to God. If You want me to lose weight, I am willing to really make an effort. But I want to do something simple, sane and slow. A life style adjustment instead of a "diet". I can't bear to never eat anything I love. I go into binge eating when I restrict myself like that.

I didn't expect, or receive an immediate answer. No booming voice out of the air, or even a small voice. I just felt like it was possible to do something different. That I would be shown a new way which would fit my requirements.

I did a Google search on weight lose and found a free website that I could use to track my calories, weight and body measurements. If I wanted to pay $5 a month, my calories and other nutritional information would be summed up and compared with he FDA recommended intake for protein, fiber and all that other stuff they track.

I've always liked tracking what I actually do, verses just having a goal which is so far into the future, I can't even relate to it. I learned that I am working my way up to the worst level of obesity, but I'm not quite there yet. I learned that I can set up a diet plan where I can lose a pound a week. I can learn to change things gradually without denying myself an occasional piece of cake, dish of ice cream, or anything else I love.

The bad news? Well, II was 205.5 pounds. I should be around 130 pounds. That is a difference of 75.5 pounds. I can handle losing the weight in 75.5 weeks, which is 1 year and 23.5 weeks. That is a bit less then a year and a half. Having an easy weekly target and a long term goal like this has taken all the tension out of wanting to lose weight. Right there I can see God gently teaching me the beginning of self-care which is actually self-discipline.

The other part of this website is tracking your activities every day. You tell them how much exercise you are doing now and work up to adding something to your daily routine. I love to walk, and when I don't walk, I get stiff to where I have trouble supporting any weight at all on the right foot. I try to walk an hour a day, but before having this lovely website to account to, I never managed to actually walk more then one or two days a week. That was not enough.

There is something very satisfying about seeing what I'm actually doing daily. Carrying my 25 pound walker up and down our 30+ stairs every day wipes out almost 50 calories, all by itself. A one hour walk tallies up to almost 400 calories. Adding in other things I never thought of as exercise brings my activity calorie reduction to nearly 500 calories a day!

This is not a signal for me to buy cake and cookies every day! I only need to cut down my food intake by 500 calories a day to make my goal of 1 pound a week of weight loss. I eat what I want, but HONESTLY admit what it was and how much I ate. I quickly saw that my amazing love of mayonnaise was accounting for almost 1600 calories a day, alone! Maybe I can cut that back, just a touch...?

The amazing thing I discovered is that I'm losing weight, exercising and not acting all crazy. No protein powder, Atkins or any other goofy food plan. I'm down to 198 pounds with no feeling of being cheated out of anything.

The only substitution I've made is to buy oranges and dried apricots for my "sweet" tooth, instead of cake, doughnuts or ice cream. I can have the other stuff, but not on a daily basis. Had a blow-out burger meal with a friend with that lovely chocolate pie. I used Equal in my coffee, but other then that I let myself enjoy a "treat" meal. I gained a pound, which swiftly disappeared when I returned to my regular, less caloric eating.

I can't remember ever having real "diet" success in my life. I can live with the changes. I feel better when I exercise. I am making friends with a whole bunch of new concepts. At church, several days after I began my new food arrangement, the preacher spoke of how important physical health was. The sermon confirmed everything I was doing. Slow, sane and lasting REAL change.

For those of you interested in this (I think) cool dieting website: (http://www.my-calorie-counter.com/calorie_counter.asp). I want to show you the link, as well as give you a link to these folks. They offer various newsletters, but won't clutter your inbox without your opting in.

For those of you who have turned purple with rage about the very notion of dieting. Just realize that this information may not be for you at this time. Not everything is a "have to", "right now". I've spoken of my dieting history when a friend began a diet and I was in a totally different frame of mind. Its okay to say "no". Saying "no" is also a very important part of recovery. You can always come back later and change your mind.

Saying Good-Bye To "Wanderlust", My Dying eMac.

I'm a Macintosh person. I took it as a personal affront from Steve Jobs when she began to fail. Apple's DON'T FAIL! I resisted the temptation to yell at my Macintosh representative. How dare she not be able to perform "remote" magic and fix my 40 Gigs of external storage disc partition that had disappeared!

"Darling, when your USB ports fail intermittently its your logic board. You better get the new computer sooner rather than later," Janice Kempf has proven herself to be an exceptional Apple Rep. I trust her. She does exquisite customer service and I love the chance to buy something from her. We'd explored what I wanted for a new machine earlier in the year.

However, I had a plan. I wouldn't buy a new Mac until Leopard, the next operating system came out in October. Now, with only 4 months until this release I'LL HAVE TO PAY FOR A NEW OPERATING SYSTEM TO GET LEOPARD! Oh rage, scream, damn! Steve Jobs has me, and I know it.

Since Janice already knew what I was looking for in the next machine, she went to the refurbished things first. I had two great choices, three if I would take a 17 inch screen. I made my decision and Janice put it all together for the amount I had in the bank.

I thought that dropping over $1,500 would be fun. I was in tears. I had data to save, pleading letters to write, begging for geeks to "save" me and just some general sulking to do. This is NOT at all like my daydreams.

I am really getting to move up in the Mac. world, as my computer duties have expanded from small-time home consumer to part-time business person. As webmaster and whatever-they-need-I'll-try-it (for my church) business person, my poor eMac is just not powerful enough, or large enough to handle my new duties. I love my eMac. I feel sad to lose her. She is more then a machine. I grew up pounding on her keyboard, mousing myself into carpal tunnel syndrome on games and exploring Instant Messaging and Social networks.

Before Wanderlust I swore I'd never, ever, ever get on the Internet because my vision just couldn't handle it. I'd always leave a session of attempts in tears. But Wanderlust with reverse video, square box around-the-cursor and font changing capabilities brought the Internet to me. Now that I can see it, I LOVE it!

How did she get the name "Wanderlusts"? She started life in Southern California, a nice Republican area. For mysterious reasons I never figured out she got shipped to Sacramento, where she disappeared from the shipper's system. Having a box with no information, what did they do?

THEY SHIPPED IT BACK TO SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA! It only took three weeks to straighten out the mess, but I bet she was running away from my area which is totally Democratic. The Socialist Republic of The San Francisco Bay Area! She tried really hard NOT to come here! Our politics here are so scary. I had to call her Wanderlust.

For those of you not from this area in the United States, here's a sample of our local insanity. Feng Shui in San Francisco building codes! Gay marriages pushed through by the SF mayor, which were subsequently overturned in the courts. But that building code stuff just kills me!

Feng Shui, for those of you who don't know has to do with the spiritual benefit of locating objects in a room in specific places. It isn't enough to put a desk by the window for good lighting, but will its placement in the room contribute to good vibrations for the occupant! Our tax dollars at work.

When Wanderlust arrived I had the joy of setting her up and getting my very first Internet connection. Due to some @#$ with our local phone company, I have no land line. I had to go with cable. Comcast was more reliable then the "free" government service. For $71.20 a month I have flawless performance, excellent 24/7 customer service and basically I rarely think about them.

Jeez, I loved all the news, recipes, books, magazines, newspaper feeds and pod casts. I loved playing games with my mouse. Super Collapse killed my wrist because I did it for several hours straight! (Yeah, stupid, but I made it to level 4). I found jig saw puzzles, international long distance telephony (everywhere for free!) and digital photography. In short order I was living on my computer.

Via pod casting I ran into a geek back east who has become a valued and trusted friend. He can be crazy and shallow, but occasionally he gets deep and serious! He has taught me many things. We follow each others work and I look forward to invading his area in October of 2008 for the Ignoble Prizes. THAT is going to be one hell of a vacation!

But I digress. As I type this I feel sad because I can't give Wanderlust to someone who needs a computer, as a bad logic board is not a nice thing to share. Apple won't recycle my computer either. BUT had the balls to charge me an $8.00 "recycling fee" (!) on my iMac. GROWL, GROWL, GROWL!

I've given my old eMac to a tech friend to use for spare parts. I also gave him the 80 GB external disc drive which had the 40 GB "disappeared" partition. It turns out that I just got my data transferred in time. The eMac logic board rendered the machine unusable for my friend and he said that 95% of the external disc was bad. I bet there was a very busy angel protecting that data as I transferred it to my new machine!

Here is the dirt on both machines:

eMac 1.25 Ghz, 40 GB Hard Disc, low-end graphics card, 17" CRT screen.
imac 2.16 Ghz, 250 GB Hard Disc, 512-something graphics card, 20" LCD screen.

As you can see from the photos above the new screen is huge. I can have a whole mess of windows opened at once and switch between them with a mouse click, rather then having to use expose. I named my new machine "Linda the iMac" as this dear soul gave me $50 towards the purchase when she didn't have squat for money. I thought her gesture was truly wonderful.

Training a Cat: Why I Know Parents Are Saints!

Please note, this is an attempt at humor, with some truth thrown in here and there. See CyberGal doesn't do "children". I don't babysit, or do Youth Sunday School. When I go on vacation I attempt to stay far, far away from God's little gifts. I like kids in small doses. I drop in for an evening. So I am blissfully unaware of the character building friends of mine speak of when they discuss parenting. No more!

No, I didn't take care of a child, but I was instructed to "discipline" the owner's cat. Knowing absolutely NOTHING about how cats react to being thwarted, I assured the owner that the cat would not be permitted out of the house before 7 AM and would be back inside the house at 9 PM. How hard can this be...?

God works in very mysterious ways. How hard was it? It depends on whether I get points for never actually acting on my thoughts towards a yowling animal who has the endurance of an Olympic athlete!

I have bizarre sleep patterns no matter what's going on. I tend to sleep for three to four hours, get up at around 2 AM, work for a few hours and return to sleep for a good six hours. Taking medication to straighten this out leaves me too doped-up to function. So, since I have a very lose schedule, I work around my sleeping patterns.

The cat and I got on very well. She'd cry to get out between 3:30 AM and 5 Am and whether awake, or asleep, I can open a door and return to blissful slumber. But, now, I had a real challenge. The owner told me just to lock her out of my bedroom when: "...she becomes a pest." I thought this was a bit extreme. After all, Maggie likes me, there won't be a problem. NOT!

I woke up at 3:30 to her usual morning serenade. I tried talking to her. Her mewing got louder. She jumped on counters. She virtually screamed at me in a non-stop stream of feline invectives. She was mad and let me hear about it. There is nothing quite as frustrating as trying to ignore an angry animal with a will, determination and an ATTITUDE.

After the first hour of this heavenly bliss, I started thinking about teaching the cat like my mom taught me. Pick her up and toss her against the nearest wall! I confess my emotions were now all stirred up. I couldn't believe how angry I was becoming.

"yowl, yowl, yowl, YOWOWOWL!" Maggie is following me around the house. It never stops. Its only 4:45 AM and I gotta wait until 7:00 AM? Since she actually startled me with her leaping on a counter where I was pouring hot water for coffee, I cured THAT problem. I moved away from her so she'd know I wasn't going to strike her. I then hit the marble counter as hard as I could with a flat hand.

"SLAP!"

Ooooh, look at the flying kitty!

Blessed silence. Being startled by the unexpected noise, Maggie shot off the counter into the air. By now I was actively babbling incoherently at my Lord. "How do they do this without killing their children?" As I heard the soft ticking of a clock, waiting for my answer, the Yowler re-doubled her efforts.

When my cell phone alarm went off at 7 AM, I leaped into the air to let the suffering feline lose upon the world. By now, she'd given up and was nowhere to be seen! My rage returned as I realized she was going to take hr own sweet time exiting the house! Well, eventually, she sauntered into the kitchen and hung half in and half out of the doorway.

Once she did actually exit, I returned to bed and collapsed into unconsciousness. It didn't really feel like sleep, but I was all keyed up inside and couldn't figure out what was happening to me. I never remember having to apologize to God for so much so fast over anything before. I was being torn apart by a four pound fur ball with a will of iron!

I did get a lot of church work done while the Yowler was out at play. But, she wouldn't come in at all to eat. At night, she wouldn't eat even her beloved "treats". Now I had a torrent of guilt to keep my anger company. Why am I being so cruel... No, I've got to do what the owner requested. "Dear God, please tell the cat what's happening and tomorrow will be better, right? Thanks Lord."

By day three I discovered I could confuse the cat into momentary silence. I decided to imitate her in pitch, attitude and volume. Maggie actually turned full around to face me. In shocked silence she sat looking up at me like I'd just floated in from Mars. Long story short, she cried, I suffered. She refused to eat, I worried as she was beginning to lose weight. It just went on like this day after day, after day.

I then noticed that awful feeling one has when they have to do something they loathe. I was afraid to go to sleep at night because I knew that at 3:30 AM, we'd start all over again. Now I had depression to go with my guilt, worry and impotent anger. Hmmm, when I get off this gig, I might have to get my medications changed. Great. I could just see telling my Doctor this story! Probably commit my butt into the hospital for sure!

So, its finally over. Eight days of discovering several worrisome traits I didn't know I had. Realizing that my mother, in spite of her troubles and illness didn't actually kill me. Now I know enough about my personality to realize it wasn't because I didn't try to drive her to distraction! Yeah, you parents out there. You are all saints!

Notes From A Prayer Warrior.

For those of you not religious, this expression is used in Christian circles. I'm not sure if it is used in other religions, but I would suspect the function is covered, but maybe by another name. I love to pray. Prayer, for me, is simply "talking to" or "thinking at" God. I taught myself to pray in my teens as a Baha'i'.

At first it felt silly, like trying to have a conversation with ... Well, I'd start: "Hi God...", then I'd wait for a response! When none came, I was actually relieved, as an audible: "yes CyberGal," would have scared the life out of me!

I then decided I'd have to just trust that my prayers were being heard and acted upon. I didn't have long to wait before a friend admitted stealing cigarettes from my Cousin. This had put me in a very touchy position with my cousin. She assumed my guest had done it, but asked me if I'd stolen the cigarettes.

When my friend confessed I was out raged. My cousin and I had a very, very stormy relationship under the best of circumstances and THIS! I felt the temptation to scream at my friend. Instead, I thought a quick prayer to my new friend, God.

"What do you want me to do here?" I figured I'd wait to see if I remembered something from the Baha'i' writings. Within a few minutes I remembered some passages which dealt with forgiveness and kindness. (Two actions I really didn't want to take). I thanked God for answering my question and then asked Him to help me get over my anger enough to truly be kind and forgiving.

Something very curious then took place in my mind. I remembered how messed up my friend's home life was. I remembered how scary it was for me to confess anything bad to my cousin. It was like putting my neck on a chopping block and saying: "Here I am, go ahead and kill me."

I was not speaking to my friend as we walked and I talked to God. Once I had these new thoughts I frankly told my friend my new experiences with God and let her know I wasn't mad at her, (though I pleaded with her not to do it again). I then realized her silent response was because she was quietly weeping.

This established God for me. I prayed a lot as a Baha'i'. It probably kept me from attempting suicide as a teen. I had such awful bouts of loneliness for people. I'd been grounded for a year and was not allowed to leave the house, except for school. No phone and no outings anywhere. I remember feeling an isolation so strong, it was almost physically crushing.

I chanted the Baha'i' prayer "Remover of difficulties" five hundred times. It is about three lines. Chanting helped me live better with life as I found it. God came to me in other wonderful ways. I would listen to the radio and strings of songs would be played that I particularly enjoyed. I came to understand that God was doing this for me. It was a kind of caring. It made me very happy, when most of my life was abysmal at best.

Prayer kept me from fighting more with my cousin then I did. I hated her and her ways. Once I got married and found out how she'd mismanaged some money my mother had left for me, I was so angry I feared I'd try to torture her. I told my husband not to let me leave our home until I calmed down. I seriously wanted to torture her. Not kill her, but to inflict as much physical pain and emotional anguish on her just short of killing her. I wanted to do this over and over again.

I believe prayer might have saved my cousins life. I had the sense not to act on an anger so strong, I truly felt energy radiating from my eyes. I knew enough to realize it was a dangerous, cold, calculating vicious thing. I was afraid of my anger. I prayed to God for help. It took about three hours before I calmed down, but I know God gave me the strength to resist a very real temptation to hurt my cousin.

When I became a Christian I was amazed at how Jesus worked when the Baha'i faith didn't. Just reading the Bible introduced strength and hope into my world I'd never known before. With all my mental illness, Jesus had much work to do, to even position me where I could rightly comprehend "the good news". God let me wander through several different Christian movements before I really "got" what Jesus actually did for me.

I knew he healed me, but the sin thing and the Holy Spirit-as-a-man made no sense to me. I didn't think I'd done wrong in relation to what had been done to me! (Now, after almost 25 years as a Christian, God has gently shown me my darker side. I now have enough emotional strength to handle taking responsibility for my bad behavior). I've learned the freedom of working on the problems in my life and leaving you and your problems to God and prayer.

So here I am in The Church of God in Christ. My entire small church is full of people with similar spiritual gifts. We are all a bunch of coffee drinking, fun-loving prayer warriors. Warrior just means you are willing to PUSH! (Pray Until Something Happens). Since I am alone a lot of the time I think stuff to God all the time. I just give Him permission to receive anything that goes through my mind. God has taught me that He respects our privacy and boundaries. When I get into a snit and don't want to have anything to do with Him. My God-noise leaves.

I was in an alcohol recovery program in San Francisco, just before becoming a Christian. I had played around with some very dangerous magic and I believe God saved me from being killed from some evil something that was attempting to crush my skull from all directions at once. How did I get myself into something like that?

I was so angry at God and everything else. I decided to scientifically prove there was no God by going through the Bible and attempting to do all the sins God really hated! Yeah, that is a very, very stupid and dangerous thing to do. I quickly realized that God really had a thing against any kind of magic. So, I found me some Pagans who used Nazi stuff to get energy to do their "rituals". They would take the energy from the Nazi objects and literally bless trees. I didn't really understand what they were doing. But the house we were all in was "infested" with some of the nastiest spiritual energy I've ever encountered.

My husband was exorcising something from an upstairs bedroom. I was in the basement with my lover. I perceived this entity was coming down the basement stairs. I put up my shields and all of that, but it made mince meat out of my protection as it landed on me. I knew if the pressure on my skull didn't stop I'd die.

To answer your next question; was I drinking, or doing drugs? No, it was so frightening, what took place, I wished I had been. But I was totally sober and knew I was in some big trouble. I shot up a foxhole prayer to God: "OK, I'll never doubt You or the Bible again. Please get this thing off of me!" All the pressure and the appearance of everything in the room being blood red stopped. I was alive.

But there had been something in that room. Every object capable of holding liquid was filled with a tarry substance which stank. It was an indescribably bad smell. I am very lucky to be alive. I was so arrogant and angry. I have wondered how God kept His patience with me for such a long time, in light of such over-the-top behavior.

So, back to how I got my "God noise". I'd just come out of all that awful stuff with magic. I'd gotten tangled up with something called a "psychic vampire". This is another human being who has the ability to tap into your body's energy and drain it. I started feeling like I had the flu all the time. I started having very strange nightmares. I started feeling another person attempting to take over my body from the inside out.

I had to get help to rid myself of this "presence". I was still very scared to be alone in a room. As I moved through the alcohol recovery process, I was rewarded with my own room. For most a real privilege, preparing one to return to real life. I was terrified beyond words.

I begged God to protect me. I was now a Christian, but I knew I couldn't tell anyone what I'd been through. Most people hear stories like that and blow it off. God answered my prayer. He had friends in the program give me statues of Jesus and pictures of Jesus. They sensed I was very frightened and said I could look at the statue and the picture of Jesus and He'd help me. I believed them.

Bedtime was the worst. I'd listen to Christian radio, but the terror would come on me. I finally got honest with God. Please give me something from You, so I won't feel totally alone and unprotected. I figured I'd rather hear something, than see something. I began to perceive a soft sound almost like a ringing in my ears. It isn't exactly the same. I have had real ringing in my ears and it is very different. I began to see that God had a personality and a will, just like me. He would not do "tricks" for me. I tried to "demand" my God noise to show up at my will. No dice. He's not around to entertain me, or satiate my curiosity.

When I'd pray, however, I would find that soft noise. Sometimes, when I really get into prayer, with my eyes closed, I see soft light, but that is rare. When I think about God, or am trying to share about Him, my God noise is always there. I can "hear" when others are praying for me. I don't hear words, but the God noise shows up when I'm doing something really spiritual. Like, when I'm listening to a song by The Rolling Stones! I never know who is praying, but the fact that someone is praying for me is totally obvious via what I was doing before I heard the God noise.

Being around other people who love to pray teaches you things. "Standing in the gap" for someone is attempting to pray while they go through what they asked you to pray about. Say, someone is asked to lead the Praise and Worship service. I have experienced people standing with me when I have faced difficult things. It is a joy to give that gift to a fellow traveler.

Some people have an entirely different prayer style. One friend claims he can fire off a healing prayer in thirty seconds! His prayers, for me, are very effective. He has a different constellation of spiritual gifts to share. Prayer style isn't important, it is where your heart is in relation to God.

So, I had to be up and praying at 7:15 for my friend. He just requested a quick prayer from me. I only do quick prayers when I'm in the middle of falling... I prefer a "chat" with God about whatever I've been requested to pray about. I run through the actual request the person has asked me to pass on to God. I then go through and claim promises out of God's word that apply to the situation. Somewhere in all of this, I laps into thankfulness for having a friend in the first place. Being thankful for everything is a wonderful way to keep your mind out of the emotional swamp of child abuse.

So I got up at 6:50 to have some time to drink some coffee to get my mind into shape so I could pray. I'd been fighting with a project the night before and didn't get to bed until about 3:30. But, I don't talk to anyone intelligently, until I've had some coffee.

Before Coffee: "Our Heaven, who art in Father..."
After Coffee: "Our Father who art in heaven..."

I have a wonderful set of memories about being dragged to a sunrise service before I was saved. I howled in protest and demanded coffee. This group didn't drink coffee, so I was out of luck. Fine, I got down on my knees at the top of this dew covered grassy hill to pray. The next thing I knew, someone was waking me up. Yeah, real spiritual, this one. Right.

At my first Church of God in Christ church, they held retreats which were actually endurance marathons. Meetings started at six AM and didn't break up until eleven PM over a three day weekend. The only way I could function was to drink lots and lots of coffee!

On my last retreat with this church, I'd been through a revelation about how important it is to pray when you tell people you will be praying. I got a kind letter from a friend thanking me for my prayers. (At that time, I prayed during the week with a partner at a set time.) He said that my prayers really helped get him through some stuff.

Only problem, when he thought I was praying, I was sleeping! I'd let my partner call me in the morning. No call, no prayer. Man, did I feel bad over that one! So, when we went on retreat to this monastery run by Franciscan Monks, I was determined to be up in prayer at 6 AM, when we were supposed to BE in prayer.

I had a good laugh when I discovered the coffee situation. I have no idea why these dear Monks need coffee that is so strong as to make Pete's coffee look week, but there it was! They had this little dispenser, where you'd take a packet with a cap at the top and slam it into the device to make a cup of coffee which almost raptured me without The Lord!

It was an absolutely beautiful retreat site. I'd get my coffee and sit on benches which overlooked the lush countryside. As I drank my first small cup of coffee for the morning I realized I was sweating and feeling very alert! (Over one eight ounce cup of coffee? What did Monks need this stuff for?) I thanked God for making it possible for me to truly be awake to talk to Him. Man, that coffee was something else again.

The other situation for a prayer person is how people are drawn to you to "share". They instinctively realize you can help them, even if they aren't religious. You are taken into people's confidence. I've had this happen to me all my life and have heard almost everything, I thought.

Recently, however, I had a conversation that totally stopped all rational thought. I am astounded to be trusted like this. I hurt for the people involved. My job is to pray. My pastor has preached about praying people losing their intercessory gift because they gossip instead of pray. It is a very, very serious and sacred responsibility.

I am grateful to my accountability/prayer partner for helping me adjust to a whole new level of holding something in confidence. She has had the same situation. We prayed together to help me truly turn the situation over to God. We never speak of details. Can't make a mistake if you keep it all under wraps. I learned that from my Psychologist. If you don't talk about it at all, you can't slip up.

From mental illness to constructive living. Not bad, my Lord, not bad at all. (((smile))).

My First Designer Hat.

As many of you know, I have some problems with what it means to be feminine. Now that I'm starting to explore imitating women I respect and admire, I realize I was jealous. All I knew from my background was that I sure as heck didn't want to be anything like my mother.

Look at the other 1950's role models. "I Love Lucy" is on the top of my barf list, but I hated all the happy family shows, as that world and my world were universes apart. I remember being confused in the 2nd grade when I noticed that both parents in "Fun With Dick and Jane" dressed in fancy clothes. My parents spent their time nude, or in filthy bathrobes.

Please understand. My mother was extremely mentally ill. I mean no disrespect towards her. One of the things I am really looking forward to in heaven is meeting my parents whole, healthy and happy. But I decided that being a male was the safest way to go. I didn't like my father's passive behavior, but when he'd finally hit my mother, she'd worked on him for hours!

I tried the gay lifestyle and wasn't any more successful in those relationships, then I was with the guys. I don't hate men as a matter of course and I just couldn't buy some of the politics of the women's movement. Although not being "cute", "frilly" or "stupid" was fine with me.

I am now deeply involved with my small church. We dress up for Sunday Service and the women are requested to wear a dress for every meeting (no matter how the men slep in). That is one of my sticking points, but to continue.

I am around truly noble, positive, smart and beautiful women. When they dress up on Sunday they sometimes have a hat to go with their jacket dress, or tailored suit. Most of the dresses come down to the floor, so I see a lovely woman walk in to church, wearing a flowing purple jacket dress topped with a matching hat. When she walks, it looks like she is almost floating, or flowing across the floor. I found myself wanting to look like that, to act like that. To have the quiet dignity which enables these women to confront with compassion, to love without shame and be fully alive as whole human beings.

I now realize that Phillip's knowledge of manicures, hairstyles and fashion scared me. It felt like he knew more about being a girl then I did! Until being with the women of my church, I'd never been around too many positive female role models. Now that I'm getting some idea of how if "feels" to be a woman, Phillip's skills don't intimidate me as much.

So, this year our annual District Convocation was held at the Oakland City Center Marriott. Aside from meetings and the regular classes of a conference, there is an entire long hall dedicated to selling the kind of clothes we like to wear for church. A very conservatively dressed, but glittering version of Dolly Parton. Sequins everywhere. Silver, or gold purses and hats. Also,beautiful shiny blouses that look almost like a mirror in fabric.

The hats are amazing. Everything from the squat and sequined (like mine) to the tall and or floppy. These hats are perfectly matched to the color of the outfit. The look is stunning. So, I was pretty sure I was going to try and get me a hat for Communion Sunday.

I figured on spending no more then $50. Well, it turns out that the lady selling the hats made them! She sold me a hat that had to be worth $120 for $80. I threw in an extra $10 because she was being so kind. I plan on doing a full news story on her and her business, later in this blog.

My friends at church were happy with and for me. They engaged in the friendly banter of sisters: "Ooh, girl, I'm scared of you!". I picked out the hat on my own and I've been told I did a very good job. All I know is I feel truly lovely and feminine when I'm all in white with this beautiful hat. It is easy to remember to move slowly and as gracefully as I am able. I seem to have less of a problem falling back into trying to act like a tom boy. It is a nice feeling.

See, there must really be a God (for my atheistic readers), because only a move of God could take a frustrated Jack Ryan want-to-be and turn her into a woman unafraid and unashamed to finally be who and what I really am.

Large Crowd Panic Attack.

I am noticing a pattern as I continue to heal. Whenever I experience positive growth emotionally, within hours or days something negative comes up which I thought I wouldn't have to go through again. I have been enjoying my denominations District Convocation. An week long convention held at the Oakland Marriott involving several thousand people. I have not attended every night, but have attended Tuesday, and Wednesday. I was preparing to go to the Saturday goings on, where I'd get to see our new Presiding Bishop for the entire denomination. On Wednesday, it appeared the preacher was "working the crowd".

After being deeply involved with Dr. Scott for 14 years, I've seen various ways of "working a crowd" in the name of God. Scott relied on fear and guilt with some flattery thrown in, just to be on the safe side. He told us we were worshiping God, but we were just being used to make him rich. Everything was a crisis. Everything came down to giving money.

This is the first year I've attended my denomination's local Convocation. Meetings with lovely music, a sound stage and at least two thousand people present for each night's service. The meetings are loud and designed to excite the audience to the possibilities of God coming across with a miracle in their lives.

But, then the old throw-money-at-your-problems gambit was pulled. "How bad do you want God to DO something in your life?" I went cold inside, but stayed for the rest of the service on Wednesday. I was very angry, but prayed with my Pastor, in case I was misreading the proceedings. Everyone else seemed totally caught up in the movement of the Spirit. I wanted to walk out, as a protest in disgust.

Saturday was the final night meeting with our denomination's presiding Bishop giving the sermon. I had a wonderful surprise when I got to the Marriott for a light dinner before the nights activities were to begin. My favorite waiter was working (as they were very busy hosting several conventions). I ordered a small Caesar Salad and coffee. I'd blown most of my money on a beautiful church hat, so I was watching my pennies.

James surprised me with a full sized dinner Caesar Salad and my favorite desert. He bought my dinner! I was truly stunned. I have been dining there for almost ten years. I am still amazed how lovingly I am treated by all the staff at the Marriott. It is always such a nice feeling when I dine with them. With dinner over, it was time for the night's meeting.

The Bishop again began to work the crowd, getting them all riled up for that miracle in their lives. I could feel the energy building and was not going to change my financial decisions, no matter what incentive was offered. Frankly, God has done so much for me, I have real difficulty getting in His face and demanding more. It just feels tacky and selfish to me. He's healed my mind, taken my back pain away and loved me in a thousand different ways. Why would I want to "demand" anything of such a loving Father?

As the intensity of the sermon continued to build I realized I was getting frightened, really frightened. I was having trouble breathing and felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I felt like I was being crushed inside. I haven't had a panic attack in years, but I realized I had to get out of that room and away from all the noise FAST.

I took my offering and hurried to the back. As I moved my panic was still mounting. I had to get OUT! My friend was following me, trying to persuade me that I was fine. I found an usher, shoved my offering into her hand, and explained that I was ill. (I learned a long time ago that keeping it simple and non-dramatic speeds up exits very nicely). My friend then wanted to get a ride for us. I just wanted to take a bus and get home, away from all the noise. I didn't want my friend to leave something I knew she was enjoying.

She finally let me take a bus and returned to the meeting. She was kind enough to call me when she got home, to make sure I was alright. I let her know I had experienced a panic attack. If I'd tried to force myself to stay, I might have gotten emotionally out of control, crying, or even screaming. I am so glad I followed my instincts about taking care of myself.

You might ask: what is a panic attack? It is a state of mind where your body and emotions swing into a severe flight reaction. I've only had a few of these, but they come on quickly and can escalate into hours of hysterical crying and screaming. For me they start with a very strong sense of danger and fear. My body reacts by pumping extra blood and Adrenalin into my system with a racing heart. I then feel like I can't get enough air into my lungs. At this point I know I have to try and get away from what ever is frightening me.

If I begin to have these episodes on a regular basis, I will have to see my doctor at my HMO, as it may mean I need a medication change, or some intervention, short-term group therapy. This is not necessarily a bad thing, or a failing on my part. I can't pray for God to heal a condition I'm not aware of having. It seems that each move forward into positive emotional growth gives me the strength to re-live some of the terror.

My pattern seems to be: I experience a sense of positive feelings, well-being and safety. Followed by re-living something seemingly negative. Once the negative memory, or reaction is out in the open, where I realize it is still a problem, I pray and God walks me through another level of faith and healing.

I did not return to the huge events on Sunday. Sunday School followed by another blow-out service. The room would be so packed that an announcement was made about not being allowed to save seats for people who weren't there yet. I really didn't want to endure another attempt to get my "hoper" all riled up, so I'd throw money at God. I'm glad others find this uplifting, but I find it depressing and down right frightening.

Thankfully, I know my Pastor understands the very real damage Dr. Scott inflicted on my ability to trust. I truly hope these meetings are authentic moves of the Spirit of God and not just flimflam in the name of faith. I have seen so much good in my church. This is the first set of meetings which have me wondering what is really going on. Like all things, time will tell. No human institution is without its faults and flaws. I will honor my sense of fright and wait to speak to pastor later in the week.

I look forward to returning to our small church with an attendance of about twenty-five people. I am surprised how frightened I became. It all happened so quickly. More healing work is going on, as old fears rise to the surface for God to heal. I am so grateful to have been able to get away from a situation which truly scared me. Time will show me how to handle crowds better in the future, but for now, I'm home, safe in the quiet of my room.

Emotional Thawing Out, Part 2.

My apologies to all that it has been such a long time since my last post. I am faced with a dilemma. I'm in the middle of some kind of amazing healing. I've arrived at a place I've never been before. I wanted to wait until I had a way of describing the changes that would be useful and clear. In short I'm now experiencing my feelings in real time, all the time.

It is very much like moving from black and white TV to color TV, or from a monophonic music player to one with stereo. This strange turn of events actually began with my awful upset about work and my latest "job". I had to decide how to view my world and the events in it. I had to admit that when it comes to going out there, selling myself, chasing the Holy Grail of work and all of the rest of that stuff, I have to stay far away, as the conflicts inside tempt me to return to suicidal thinking.

I have an easy test for all of you. If you attempt to do something and your reaction to the result is a return to wanting to kill yourself STOP! You may get stronger later in this life, but for the moment, STAND DOWN and turn to something that doesn't make you want to die!

I had to absolutely stop letting outsiders define my life. Whatever happens to me, from my viewpoint, comes from, or is permitted by God. Due to my terrible encounters with the world of work over the past several years, I frankly gave up. Yes, there it is friends. I gave up and honestly told God I'd HAD IT! I told God I would be happy with whatever He chose to put in my life. I would make efforts towards self improvement, but unless work came to me, I wouldn't chase after it.

Here's the wonderful thing about God. He knows where I am  in this process of spiritual growth. Frankly, when I reacted to the possibility of being ill-treated on a job with anger, that was probably healthy. When I was informed that the job was some one's attempt at "Charity" I fell into a pit of suicidal despair, I was disappointed in myself that I was still so sensitive in this area. However I decided to ignore what others were "calling" my work. I choose to assume God gave me a job.

After all, I have duties and I get paid. Even if poorly paid, its still a job. It no longer matters what others call this endeavor. God has also given me a potential job as a tutor for school children through my church. Thirdly, I have the unpaid "job" as webmaster and bulletin maker at my church. I only volunteered to make the bulletins. The other positions came to me. I did not seek them out.

Once I righted myself emotionally, with this turn of thought, I settled back down to living a life full of peace and adventure. While completing my last cat-sitting gig my emotional thaw-out began in earnest.

My routine with the cat is pretty straight forward. She'd get me up early in the morning, around 5 AM to let her outside.. I'd return to bed until around 8 AM. I'd get up, take my daily medication and put down the day's dry cat food, before settling down in the living room. 

Maggie would come in sometime after 9 AM, grab her first bit of food and "play" in my presence for awhile. She developed the habit of encouraging me to watch her as she would "perform". She'd bat toys around the large living room area. She'd leap straight up in the air, flip herself around and land after completing a graceful somersault. She'd then look back, to make sure I was indeed still watching her! I'd bring my coffee and my iPod into the living room and make myself comfortable sitting cross legged on the floor.

After Maggie went outside, on a Saturday morning, I made more coffee and returned to my place in the living room. I love to look outside and enjoy sun streaming through the tree leaves on this beautiful California spring day. I enjoy the way the colors change in a leafy tree when the sun streams through the foliage. It is a visual display of dappled green. It is made even prettier when the wind blows the leaves slightly and they move from place to place, changing color as they sway in the breeze. They go from the darkest green in the shade, to a very pale green when they are in the sun. I was filled with total joy taking in God's creation as viewed through the living room window.

I wondered how my life would have been different if I had succeeded in killing myself in 1979. To my utter shock I realized that everything I now hold dear wouldn't have happened. My growth and recovery did not even begin until I went to the altar and pleaded with Jesus to take my mess and let me be one of His own.

There is a clear dividing line between "before" and "after" becoming a Christian. Since I know many of my readers have difficulty with God and the religious thing, I deliberately did not post a gushing love for The Lord and blah, blah, blah,article. Until you get your feet on the ground mentally and begin to figure out what really happened to make you so crazy, you can't even understand the message of religion.

I clearly remember being told the Holy Spirit was a man, living inside of me. My reaction: nausea, as I assumed that now, even God was trying to have sex with me! A bit off on understanding the message, eh? So, I waited until something else happened that I thought might be a more useful entry for this blog.

Returning home I was back on my own computer and very happy. As I listened to one of my many podcast feeds Phillip sent me a text message. I have an audio queue for text messages and when I saw it was Phillip - POOF! I felt something. Not a huge something, but enough of a something to make me stop in my tracks. ("what the hell was THAT?") I inquired mentally. It wasn't a thought, or a mental picture, but I FELT something nice inside.

One of the great gifts of Phillip's friendship is the safety to ask him questions about feelings and situations. I absolutely trust him as a friend. He may not know an answer, but no matter how strange my question, he won't abandon me. Oh, that is such a wonderful gift. Poof - "safety".

How do I describe my feeling? It was like sensing a fragrance on the wind. A gentle positive feeling . It felt good, what was it, what emotion? Phillip replied that it was joy, with a lower case j. It is a mild happiness to see your friends online. He feels it too sometimes.

I was astounded. Before, I'd remember having a chat with Phillip and THEN feel a feeling. But this was going on in real time! Wow. But is this one incident enough to create a blog post over? Hardly. Something was shifting and tumbling inside me. I could sense I was healing in a totally different area of my life.

It didn't stop either. I found myself feeling little puffs of goodness over lots of things, especially being around people at church. The music at church is by far my favorite part of the service. We are usually standing side by side, clapping with the music, or raising our hands in response to God. Some people actually use Praise and Worship as part of their prayer time with God. It is a lovely thing to think good thoughts toward God while being engulfed with a favorite gospel song everyone is singing.

Jesus talks about having your focus undivided:

Matt. 6:22 The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.
Matt. 6:23 But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!

I'm at this mega church gathering in a room of almost 1,000 people. I adore the song we are singing. I think of the above scripture. I turn to my left and see Bobbi swaying and clapping to the music - poof! "Bobbi happiness". I turn to my right and see Gretta gently swaying, with arms raised towards heaven - poof! "Gretta happiness". I look in front of me and see a man I don't know dancing in front of his chair, obviously expressing joy - poof! "worship happiness".

Wave after wave of nice feelings were tumbling and swirling around my mind and body. Poof! "I'm getting whole inside!" God I love you! POOF! "God love!" (That particular reaction was huge. The hair on my arms stood up). My feelings tumbled around like clothes in a dryer. It felt wonderful and scary at the same time. I couldn't wait to get home to tell my girlfriend what I just figured out.

Now I get it why people feel good to her! When they are with you and you can feel feelings, it is a whole new dimension to life. Poof! "Understanding satisfaction." My girlfriend was indeed happy for me. We had shared our "if you had one more day to live" plans. She would spend the last day with close friends, eating and talking. I would spend my last day on earth at the Marriott Hotel. I'd be alone, swimming, eating and just hanging out. My girlfriend seemed shocked and asked: "...but where are the people?" I had retorted that the last thing I wanted to be around for my last day on earth would be people! I might take someone out for lunch maybe, but I wanted to experience the Marriott alone. She was truly stunned and I'd flagged her reaction as something I deeply wanted to understand, but currently, didn't have a clue.

Within days I was swamped with feelings. I had reactions to people, plants, animals, books and things I'd read in a friendly email. I had taken a brave step with Phillip, months ago, asking him questions about "what does it mean when..." I now decided to experiment with trusting another person with similar questions. I started to cry. (Oh, no!) Poof! "relief and gratitude". Gretta not only listened to my stammered tale of emotional release, but shared some of her personal story. I wasn't the only one to use books to try and figure out the world...

I felt like I was breaking out of terrible isolation that had always encircle me. I used to have dreams of being encased in a clear plastic cube. I could hear and see, but no one could touch me, or hurt me. It was safe, but utterly isolating. Even when I wanted to, I couldn't ever leave that invisible cube.

I've laughed, cried and even gotten angry, in real time! I have to learn restraint. Just because I have a feeling doesn't mean it is a good idea to act on it. I was at a meeting last night where the pastor said something that enraged me. My first gut reaction was to get up and DRAMATICALLY walk out. I decided against this action. as I saw that everyone else was experiencing something good. My memories of Dr. Scott and his strong-arm fund raising tactics caused me to react very differently.

I waited until I had a chance to speak to my pastor. I prayed about my attitude. I do not want to think ill of someone, if they are not doing evil. But I was so ANGRY! Hello adulthood, what a strange place Adulthood is!

I am thankful that people in my church recognize the healing I am experiencing. Life has a whole new texture. It "HAS" a texture! I'm still walking around like that guy from a small town who gets off a bus in down town New York. He wonders around in a complete daze for awhile.
So, that is why I haven't posted in so long. It is wonderful to feel. You have to use common sense about sharing some of this.

Not everyone is equipped to accept this part of my story. There is a very kind man at church, who likes to shake hands, rather then share a hug. I doubt he'd know how to respond if I asked him about what a reaction to a situation meant. But, he sees my happiness and shares in it. I have several friends who are filling in the gaps for me, as needed. poof! "satisfaction". I now move on to a more focused post about my very first hand-made designer hat.

Our Declining World Culture. Where Have All The Morals Gone?

I was born in 1953 post war America. In our upper middle class neighborhood the scandal of the day was some teenager stealing peoples mail, out of their mailboxes and dumping it down the street drains.

Today we have mass shootings, genocide and contaminated products being pawned off on unsuspecting consumers, world wide. Where has our sense of right and wrong gone? Sadly, I believe I found the answer from part of a book by Ravi Zacharias. Are you sure a world with no absolute truth ,rules or values is the world you want to live in?

Recapture the wonder by Ravi Zacharias

What children Have Lost

In the 1950’s kids lost their innocence. They were liberated from their parents by a
well paying job, cars and lyrics in music that gave rise to a new term: “the generation gap”.

In the 1960’s kids lost their authority. It was a decade of protest. Church, state and
parents were all called into question and found wanting. Their authority was rejected, yet nothing ever replaced it.

In the 1970’s kids lost their love. It was a decade of "me-ism” dominated by hyphen-
ated words beginning with “self". Self-image, self-esteem, self-assertion, it made for a lonely world. Kids learned everything there was to know about sex and forgot everything there was to know about love. No one had the nerve to tell them that there was a difference.

In the 1980’s kids lost their hope. Stripped of innocence, authority and love and
plagued by the horror of a nuclear nightmare, large and growing numbers of this generation stopped believing in the future.

In the 1990’s kids lost their power to reason. Less and less were they taught the very basics of language, truth and logic. And they grew up with the irrationality of a post modern world.

In the new Millennium kids woke up and found out that somewhere in the midst of
all this change they’d lost their imagination. Violence and perversion entertained
them till none could talk of killing innocence since none was innocent anymore. The
slide into despair began early, decades ago. The lack of innocence which is in reality the lack of wonder has a direct bearing on hopelessness and evil. The loss of wonder sets the stage for cynicism and doubt and unbelief.

Maggie The Cat.

Here are my pictures of dear, sweet Maggie. She was rescued from the pound and is around three years old. The picture where she is lying on the floor belly facing the camera shows her under the influence of catnip. All she did was smell it on a toy I rubbed with the fragrant leaves!

I also have the story of the excellent photo that walked away. Just as I snapped the shot, dear miss kitty walked out of view. I got a most lovely shot of the rug! Thankfully she doesn't seem to mind my use of the flash on my automatic (thank God!) digital camera.

Since I have Cerebral Palsy, I have trouble holding perfectly still. Thanks to something with this camera, it takes very clear photos (in spite of its operator). What a joy this camera is for me. No more waiting a few days to see the results. A cable into a nearby computer and I can see my "victories" and delete my "defeats".

When I first started cat-sitting Maggie, we got along, but she had other things to do. I was simply the door person and her "feeder". She'd let me pet her once or twice but then she wanted to go outside. I have to follow her owner's instructions; she is inside the house at night, no matter how much she cries.

My semi night shift hours confused her at first and she would meow for an hour before realizing I wasn't going to let her outside after her "in for the night treats". To get her door person up at 5 AM involved Maggie jumping on the bed and walking up my body to my chest, where she'd stand and loudly meow at my formerly sleeping self.

Eventually Maggie decided I was an acceptable bed cushion and occasionally sleeps with me. I love feeling her breathing and movements while she sleeps. When she sleeps she twitches and moves around a bit. The hardest part of this job is the "Maggie withdrawal". I have to go home and there is no warm ball of fur near my left leg. I miss her for a couple of days.

This is my third session with Maggie. She has continued to amaze me with her personality and expanding expressions of affection towards me. I refuse to believe it is all catnip induced. I do not make a habit of giving her catnip, as it seems to have a profound affect on her. She comes back into the house about 8 Am and used to just eat her food.

Lately, she truly put on a cat ballet for me. While she eats, I'm sipping my first cup of coffee for the day. I didn't see her around for a while and figured she was patiently sitting by the back door waiting for me to let her outside. She was in the kitchen, but didn't want to go outside. She led me back into the living room and began her performance with a two foot leap, straight up into the air. In mid air she flipped her body around and landed to do a graceful somersault.

Now that she had my attention, she pounced on her cloth mouse. This cat should try out as a pitcher. She tosses the mouse into the air and bats it clear across the living room area! This has to be at least a twenty foot swat. I'm impressed (and laughing).

Now, she is running flat out, (bounding really), body fully extended. She is so graceful. She continued her antics for over an hour before finally requesting to return to the great out doors.

Maggie also likes to sit in my lap while I listen to music. I pet her and she licks one of my wrists. Nothing like warm, moist sandpaper kisses! We sometimes play with her toys together. She has a cloth fish with a long piece of yarn attached to it. I didn't realize that she and I were grabbing for the same piece of yarn and she pounced with her claws extended. I felt her claws begin to attack my arm. She literally froze in mid pounce and looked at me. It was like she was saying: "Oops, human arm! Oops.".

I talk to my animals. I assume they understand me. If not my words, then the emotional intent of my words. I count down the last couple of days before their owners return. I praise their good behavior and warn them of their bad beginnings. Every animal I've ever worked with will always make a noise if I'm looking for them. Animals come when I call them, even if they won't do it for their owners!

I love this particular location. The house and area are beautiful. The transportation via bus from here, however, can be hard on my nerves. We are on the side of a mountain peak and the roads are narrow and windy. I can not tell where I am at all when riding the bus. I make my speech to the drivers about not being able to see well enough to find my stop. I then pray frantically that they don't forget me. I come home rattled.

Maggie always comes to the back door shortly after I arrive home. She hangs around for me to pet and talk to, while I unwind from another trip somewhere. Shopping is easy, but it is at least two hours from here and back. The bus driver always calls my stop, but yesterday he tried to teach me about ringing the bell to tell him when to stop. I once again explained about my bad vision. He finally understood and apologized. No wonder he didn't seem eager to help me, if he thought I was just being lazy!

I enjoy watching Maggie walk across the carpet. Her movements are soft and graceful. I marvel at the wonder of getting to see, up front and personal another one of God's magnificent creatures.

Recovery: The Delusion OF A Life Without Suffering.

I have many bitter memories of being picked on, shunned and mocked because I am almost blind. A long time ago I said to myself: "If I wasn't blind, this wouldn't be happening to me!" Then I took that natural rage and turned it in upon myself. I was helped in this orgy of self hatred by the fact that my parents also believed that my existence caused all of their problems. Recently, I had a very painful encounter with someone experiencing a week moment.

A remark was made which stirred up all my self-hatred around being blind. I really have been going through it, over a childish comment, made in a weak moment. What was said, or who said it is immaterial. I have been depressed for weeks. Not the type of depression which sent me to bed, but the type of depression which showed up anytime I wasn't otherwise occupied with some mental task. I was seriously wondering if I was in need of a medication change. I just wasn't able to shake a nagging self doubt with a depression overlay.

I would find myself re-examining all of my "accomplishments" and wondering if I really did a good job, or was just being lied to as a "poor little blind girl." I know it reeks, but I truly wondered if anything I'd done in my life was of any real value. (This is the stuff that suicide attempts spring from). I prayed for God's help with my attitude. I was really stuck in a pit.

I then remembered a book I'd read years ago. The Road Less Traveled. Where a psychiatrist confronts some of our fondest illusions. It begins with a version of the above. Blaming our problems on some condition or situation; the "if only I was or wasn't" trap. He then states the truth: LIFE IS DIFFICULT. My own version: Life has suffering in it.

Oh, the years I've wasted spitting at fate over the illusion that I'd never hurt again, if I just wasn't BLIND! No, I would only hurt over some other issue or circumstance. When I really began to believe the above, a whole lot of self-loathing, tension and sadness departed from my mind. I wasn't the cause of anything! A wise pastor taught: "hurting people HURT people."

I upset a friend who shared an observation about me and a situation. Now, if I wasn't disabled, I would have been upset by some other observation made by my friend (who was in pain). I would only have a change of script and setting. My "life" play would still contain periods of pain.

Oh, how free I began to feel. I now could more readily understand another friend who pointed out that one of his life struggles (when younger) was over not being handy with tools. He wouldn't know how to do plumbing, if his life depended upon it. But, give him a computer, now when it comes to technology... But he felt left out when the guys in his circle of friends would start talking about building things, or plumbing problems.

Now, I see what a global condition this is. If someone wants to cut you down (they really don't mean to, but they are hurting and you are in their field of vision), they will attack your most obvious weakness. A woman who wants to have a baby, but can't have one is cut to the quick with: "Well, at least I'm a REAL woman!" My computer buddy is hit with: " Oh, yeah, I forgot, all YOU know is computers...", My sense of acomplishment is smashed with: "That's real good for a BLIND person...", An older sister is battered from: "Yeah, and your brother is RETARDED...". The list is endless. Another example of the expression: Misery loves company.

Freedom for me is realizing it isn't my business what people think of my work, my decessions or my faith. My job is to DO STUFF, God's job is to handle the results. I neither love or hate myself today, because of my disabilities. They are one aspect of who I am. The important FACT is that I'm one of God's kids and He made me. I am no mistake, or accident. Now realizing I'll never earn a: "gets you out of pain" card, I can let go of a lot of unnecessary self-hatred because of a condition.

The other wonderful discovery of this day has to do with how clearly my friends understand my chemically imbalanced coping abilities. I share part of a chat:

me: I am finally getting over the depression that whole bit with @#% threw me into. She really messed me up for awhile.
Phillip: Honey, @#% didn't throw you into anything. she said or did something stupid and about as sensitive as toilet seat. Your reaction to what @#% did depressed you.
me: Yes, that's right. But, I'm finally coming out of it. A very painful set of reactions.
Phillip: Yes, and I realize that much of that is chemically induced on your part. The good part is that there is also much of the reaction that isn't - and that God is working you through the process of not reacting to what other people say or do - and just believing in who He said you are. Which will also help the chemical part not kick in as much. Aren't you excited?
me: Yeah. I am excited about living a totally new kind of life, as I continue to learn to have real faith.

Since I know many of my readers also go through the following. I make the observation that, in spite of my faults Phillip is still my friend. Oh how we abuse survivors have trouble BELIEVING that some one else can actually like, or love us!

I just put that doubt in the drawer with the other things I have to ask God to help me believe are true. Never forget, if you do matter and you are worthy of love, then you are responsible to DO something. It is not all right to sit around and cry because you THINK you don't matter and you THINK nobody loves you. This trap is one of the devil's most effective tools against children of abuse. We have to learn that practing faith is in the very fabric of our lives.

I have to practice faith that God will heal, or save, or teach. But I also have to have faith that I am His child, that He sees me through the eyes of Jesus and that since I'm God's child, why wouldn't another one of his kids find me interesting as a person? (Kinda takes the wind out of that pity party I've been throwing...).

Recovery: It Ain't Always About ME!

When you are first sorting out your abuse and or neglect issues from your past, there is a time when EVERYTHING is about you. As you progress in recovery and as the intensity of the memories calms down, a fresh prospective can grow.

One of my chronic complaints (violins here) is over the issue of getting a ride to church. I know I'm growing up, because today when I was forgotten, I didn't go into a total emotional blow-out. I prayed to have victory over this issue. I truly know, that if I was in an emergency, someone at my church would attempt to move heaven and earth to help me. I suspect the husband of my ride-giver may be back in critical condition in an Emergency room somewhere. It's not always about ME!

Even if it comes down to just being "forgotten". I rarely need a ride to church, from these people. It would be easy to drop me from the radar, as this was a particularly busy week at church. I am secure enough in myself to know I would have been picked up, unless, something happened.

I am re-learning how important it is for me to put God first in my life. I heard several wonderful sermons on the radio, so I can't say I didn't get any teaching. I was at my work location to receive an important call from the cat owner. This may be the reason I was NOT picked up. I rest in the assurance that God has it all under control. I was ready to go. I now have a reason to thank God even more, for those times I DO make it to church. I praise God that I'm getting emotionally strong enough to not take every event around me as a personal attack.

Recovery is discovering the world really has people in it, who like you and try to do right. But, Jesus Christ walked on water, most people haven't gotten to that yet. I am free to forgive, love and return to church another day. I am free to have a good day in spite of a slight disappointment. I am free to enjoy the life God has given me for this day. Tomorrow isn't promised to us.

A View From The Other Side.

For those of you not blessed with a major disability, immerse yourself in this very well crafted tale... Author unknown.

Imagine: You've just entered your office on what may well be the most hectic, stressful day of your life. Suddenly you realize all of your reference books, piles of paper-work and notes are covered with little bumps. In fact, you discover there is not one single printed word to be found. Every scrap of information necessary to do your job, is now in Braille.

Imagine: you rush back out of your office, wildly looking about, peering into offices, staring over the shoulders of clerks. Everybody is calmly doing their job, using Braille. Mysteriously they have learned the language overnight. Only you, it seems, were overlooked. For some unknown reason, you are permanently and totally Braille challenged.

Imagine: you dash for the door hoping the rest of the world has not gone mad. It has. In the elevator, you're not sure which button to press for the lobby. Someone has to help you. They stare at you as if you are stupid. Pausing at the news stand, you are unable to tell one magazine from another. You can't stand it, you need to go home and collect your thoughts. But at the bus stop, there's no way of telling which coach is yours. You back away, not wanting anyone to know, and you decide you'll call a cab. Of course, you only brought bus fare and lunch money, not nearly enough for the taxi. Remembering your bank card, you pull it out as you run back into the lobby. There, at the access machine, you stop short. The card has turned to Braille, and so have all of the instructions on the machine. You'll have to call home and ask for help. Funny, you never paid much attention to the telephone dial and now, in your growing state of confusion, you don't recall which number goes where. You are so alone, so frightened, you actually begin to weep.

Imagine: you have always seen yourself as a leader, a visionary, a problem-solver. You will not run from this challenge. You shall succeed. You have a large mortgage. Once you have recovered from the great shock, you begin looking for ways to survive.

Imagine: you have finally made arrangements, through your employer, to hire a Braille reader, a process so complex and painful you plan to patent it and use it to torture Terrorists. Now you sit in your chair going quietly mad listening to the drone of your reader's voice, taking hours of time to cover what you once scanned in minutes, while others whip about you efficiently communicating among themselves via Braille-FAX and E-B-mail. You begin to feel the "ice" in isolation.

Imagine: you learn you are not alone. You are a member of a very small minority of Braille-Challenged people. There is, in fact, a Brailleless Culture; a history far too long and complex to discuss here. So, you become a member of the, Brailleless Association of America. (BAA) At the BAA meetings you find out about a number of small companies manufacturing adaptive equipment which enables Brailleless persons to access all of the Braille computers, FAX machines, Braille scanners and Braillers.

The expense is far more than you can afford, so you seek assistance from your employer. Your request is turned down. There are no requirements that your employer accommodate your disability.

Imagine: BAA, along with many other disability groups, battle in Congress for the passage of a Bill, guaranteeing you equal treatment under the Law. The bill passes and, despite subtle messages from your fiscal officer, money is, "found" for your accommodation. After considerable time and effort, the technician from the Department of Services for the Brailleless, has you on-line. Now you are able to scan Braille text and convert the little dots into letters, and through a very complex process, the Braille display on your computer is transformed into print. Finally, you are again up to speed, being your old efficient self, feeling good about your work.

Imagine: you are humming and smiling and cranking along in high gear. Suddenly, a message flashes on your screen and drives terror through your heart. New breakthroughs in technology have produced equipment so superior to the ancient junk--at least four years old-- presently in use, that your organization is upgrading the entire communications system.

The BAA, technicians have already informed you that your adaptive equipment is not compatible with it. You go to the, "Powers-That-Be" in your organization, and request a meeting to discuss this concern. You are told that your fears are groundless. You will not be forgotten. Following this meeting A rumor goes around hinting that you are trying to sabotage the new system, and your associates begin to whisper behind your back. They want the new system. It's far superior, more compact, ten times faster, and it's cool looking. They are sick of your "whining and constant complaining". You feel the "ice" settling in again.

Imagine: you have been forgotten. The new system is in place. Everybody loves it. You've been told not to worry, someone will be around to do what is necessary to put you back on-line. The "someone" they had in mind is the same technician who told you the system would not work. Despite your concerns, no one bothered to investigate before the equipment was installed. Once again you sit, going quietly mad while your reader plows line by line through the piles of Braille.

Imagine: you know you are close to losing your mind or your job--probably both. You must find other employment, but you do not want your associates to know you are finally beaten. You try to figure out a way to do a quiet job search when all information is only accessible in Braille.

One day you hear that your State has developed a central information center, called a, "kiosk". These information centers are being set up in easily accessible locations. The plan is for these kiosks to make government information and services available quickly and conveniently, to the public. Sort of a "one stop shopping center". You learn that lists of job openings are among the many services offered. This is perfect. This is exactly what you need. you discover your town recently placed a kiosk in the Mall. You go there on Saturday afternoon. There it stands, costing the tax payers hundreds of thousands of dollars to create, but well worth it. In its ultimate form, the kiosks will bring virtually all State services right into your local neighborhood. You are thrilled as you step up to the controls. An automated voice welcomes you and brags about the wonders of this system. Breathlessly, you wait for your instructions... Then, the Braille display appears.

Imagine: they are dragging you away, shrieking at the top of your voice. Onlookers are amazed. They do not know how you managed to rip the iron bench from the floor of the Mall. None of them dared to try to stop you as you swung it over your head, again and again, smashing the kiosk into pieces of broken plastic, glass and twisted metal. None of them understand why you kept screaming the same words over and over.

"I pay taxes, too! I pay taxes, too! I pay taxes, too!......."

On Becoming A "Pusher" For Scott Sigler.

Yes. I said a "pusher" for Scott Sigler. And just who in the hell is he? An overnight smash in the Science Fiction world, fifteen years in the making. Here is some information on his books, some in print, or available only as pod casts:

Books in print from amazon.com.
Books as pod casts from podiobooks.com, podshow.com

EarthCore Synopses (from scottsigler.net)

Deep below a desolate Utah mountain lies the largest platinum deposit ever discovered. A billion-dollar find, it waits for any company that can drill a world's record, three-mile-deep mine shaft.

EarthCore is the company with the technology, the resources and the guts to go after the mother lode. Young executive Connell Kirkland is the company's driving force, pushing himself and those around him to uncover the massive treasure.

But at three miles below the surface, where the rocks are so hot they burn bare skin, something has been waiting for centuries. Waiting ... and guarding. Kirkland and EarthCore are about to find out firsthand why this treasure has never been unearthed.

print

pod cast

ANCESTOR SYNOPSES (from scottsigler.net)
On a remote island in Lake Superior, scientists struggle to solve the problem of xenotransplantation -- using animal tissue to replace failing human organs. Funded by the biotech firm Genada, Dr. Claus Rhumkorrf seeks to recreate the ancestor of all mammals.

By getting back to the root of our creation, Rhumkorrf hopes to create an animal with human internal organs. Rhumkorrf discovers the ancestor, but it is not the small, harmless creature he envisions. His genius gives birth to a fast-growing evil that nature eradicated 250 million years ago -- an evil now on the loose, and very, very hungry.

Print

Pod Cast

Infection aka Infested (Due to a movie named "Infection" Print release will be called Infested.

Infection (from podiobooks.com)
Perry Daswey is 6-foot-5, 265 pounds of angry ex-linebacker. He knows all too well that if he doesn't control his quick temper, people get hurt. Through constant focus, he has locked his violent past away in the deep dungeons of his mind. The infection changes everything. Strange,..

Pod Cast

The Rookie (my synopses):

Get your football and science fiction fix here. You've never experienced sports like this. Big money politics, crime, gridiron action with humans and aliens. Prejudice has graduated to a whole new level.
Pod Cast:
====================================================================

These books deal with mature themes, strong language "...and lots and lots of violence." quoting from Scott's pod cast introduction. He can best be described as a writer of science Fiction, horror and the suspense-thriller, all rolled into one fabulous story. Each book has been better then the last.

My personal favorite is Infection because it deals with a terrifying new disease. Ancestor is the runner-up as it deals with genetic engineering run a muck. Some of the theory in this story is now actual experimental "success" today. This is the kind of story which will cause you to gasp at some of our current "discoveries". Just because something can be done, does not mean it should be done.

So, I attended Scott's book signing for Ancestor's print release. We junkies were about fifteen in number. This event was held at Borderlands Books, in San Francisco. Scott read an action-packed episode from the story. The scene takes place aboard a plane, flying through a storm, where we get our first good look at a well-intentioned medical experiment gone haywire.

Scott took questions from us Junkies, Pushers, and Super Pushers. How did this all get started? We loved EarthCore so much and some started calling it EarthCrack. From there we whined about having to wait for new episodes like a bunch of "junkies" and so we are. A few of his fans are almost as entertaining as Scott's stories.

We call up on his "gore" line and cry for the next episode, complain about his technical errors and other "mistakes. Scott takes it all in stride. Oh, no he doesn't, he cops an attitude. His first out-going message on the "gore" line was something like: "If you are calling to criticize me, look I'm sensitive. Just shut your clambaster and enjoy the damn story! All right?"

Scott puts his calls on special "bonus" pod cast episodes for the rest of us Junkies to enjoy. We have engaged in discussions of... well, several parts of the male anatomy. Some have taken the roles of new characters as additions to his stories with new side plots. I have had much fun acting out frantic examples of a junkie in "withdrawal". And of course there is the occasional spoof on one of Scott's technical screw-ups. We junkies speak to him in the most loving and appreciative terms.

"Scott, this is Tim from somewhere. Scott, you sick @#$%!" (rhymes with truck). Scott says it is things like this which make his mother proud! Sigler has the best stichk I've heard in a long time!

But behind the banter is a solid, serious businessman, as well as a creative talent. After messing around trying to get published the good old fashioned way (and getting nowhere), he released EarthCore as a free pod cast. His audience has grown with each subsequent book release. He changed agents and got a small publisher to handle printing Ancestor. Scott was also recently interviewed in the New York Times.

Then it was time for Scott to make a subtle little statement to the publishing establishment. He requested that if we were going to purchase Ancestor, we should all buy it from amazon.com at 9 AM April 1, 2007. He wanted to push his book to the top. We complied to the tune of 3,800 books sold in three days!

Needless to say, this got noticed by larger publishers and Crown Books, won an auction for the rights to three books. As I said, Sigler's an overnight sensation in the making for fifteen years.

Scott intends to reward his "original junkies", by keeping track of us and giving us special "original junkies only" stuff. Networking with his fans will further "enlighten" the publishing industry. Scott is grateful to his fans for quick and consistent feedback on his work. He is not offended by our feedback, no matter how he might howl in response to a "gore line" call. Scott sees the aspect of networking with a fan base as the next wave in publishing. People who get content for free, which they like, will buy that content. This radically changes the power structure within the publishing industry and some of the old school folks don't like it one little bit.

So, Mr. S.,you keep spinning your yarns, getting sassy with us junkies while planning your domination of the world. We junkies will keep calling in; some of us making complete fools of ourselves. We'll keep buying your books and pushing your stuff 'cause, dude:

YOU'RE ONE HELL OF A GOOD WRITER!