I have a confession. I did not ask for this. I did not ask for a relationship with Jesus. I never saw myself as someone who would be a labeled a ‘Jesus freak’. Yet, he chose to speak to me, to make his presence known while I was simply waiting to brush my teeth, sitting on a toilet seat. I am writing this book from the ‘desert”. It is a bougie desert, that just so happens to have hot coffee, baked goods, and sparkling water but, it is still a emotional desert a wandering left. My stubbornness and boldness make me believe that I have a whole lot of miles and dusty trails left to navigate with God. I had hoped to be writing this book from the comforts of The Promised Land, but I can honestly report, that the view from my laptop today is bleak, and my mouth is incredibly dry. The dry mouth might be a side effect of the adderall, but even so, I find myself not where I expected to be or doing what I thought I would be doing, or writing about what I thought I’d be writing about. In just four months, I’ll be celebrating my 50th year on this planetyet, here I am, still standing in the middle of a violent and relentless haboob in the desert. (FYI a haboob is a sand storm)
I found myself compelled to write this book, a task which never felt like a choice, but more of an internal obligation. While acknowledging the purpose behind the life events I’ve experienced , I must admit, perhaps selfishly or even arrogantly, that I had hoped to be writing these words from The Promised land, not within the confines of a coffee shop. I can describe the scene from my laptop; today is rather gloomy, my mouth is still bone dry and I am not on the adderall today. I have yet, completely surrendered myself to God and I firmly believed that for me to write this book, God would have had to complete a profound transformation, turning me into someone much less of myself and much more like Him. After all, that is the essence and connection we desire to have with God- the pursuit to become more like Jesus, the embodiment of Love. At the very least, that is what I hope to drown in-love. Here I am not drowning in love and light, but in an ocean of questions and concerns-putting my own peculiar spin on deep anxiety and intellectual ignorance. Asking God to answer too many questions that I, a mere mortal, don’t need to have all the answers for.
I question the authenticity of God’s unconditional love for me, doubting His capacity to forgive my human flaws completely. I have Complex trauma and this form of trauma drives me to blow up all of my relationships. There is a part of me that is such a raging a$$hole, and it is challenging to forgive those who have caused me pain and anguish nevermind,, fully forgive them and restore them with unconditional love. That is the "God stuff" that gets me twisted…..it is an impossible feat for us humans. I am still learning how to accept the complexities of my humanness and ignorance, while navigating these doubts about love and forgiveness especially, when there have been moments when I have felt as if I was too much for this world, yet I must believe, I need to believe, that I have never been too much for God. We are covered by His grace and that is the piece we as humans struggle to offer one another.
I have committed to breaking the cycle of abuse for myself, my children, and my grandchildren, aiming for a future where they are much more than a reflection of us.
“For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.”
(Romans 11:29)
I wish I could say that all of this “God stuff” came easy for me. Unfortunately, it does not. Trusting God while in the midst of walking through the hellacious dysfunction and challenges of being intensely human. It is a daily war and a constant challenge to my very humanness. God has waited patiently for me to release my need of control and in my attempts to save myself, I’ve inadvertently hindered His ability to reduce me. I never allowed Him the opportunity to level me up to my fullest capacity. I have screamed and cursed His name. I have been so desperate for answers, or a sign, that out of complete and utter desperation during one of the worst moments of my life, I sat on my front step ripped the pages from my Bible one by one. I threw the pages and skeleton of my Bible into the large dumpster that I was using to throw out the contents of our home after B was placed back into the inpatient facility. I was decimated and I hated God. Instead of being take out by a lightning bolt or spontaneous combustion, He gently called out to me. God remained constant. He was consistent and gentle with me when my angry soul should have been cursed to hell. He has allowed me chance after chance to choose Him, and in my grief and fear, I have chosen to reject His love and calling to me. I would choose to surround myself with superficial pleasure and immediate gratification. Time and time again, I chose to sit outside of His love and act out of my emotions and feelings and not out of love. I have emotional rabies. I have made some ugly decisions, hurt the people I love the most deeply, and I have wanted to run away from the shame and humiliation of my insecurities and ignorance. He still loved me through it all. He has allowed me the space and time to be the emotionally neglected, rabid hood rat, and gently formed me through the painful parts, and the loneliness of the desert, so I can eventually show up for Him and take my place here on this planet. I have done God dirty, while I was waiting for Him to fail me, betray me, and eventually reject me completely and forever-damned to hell. I can tell you that He is still here and remarkably, is still taking ownership of me and loving me in despite of me. He created me just like this. He is using me in this mess right now, even as I still wander and question, chew on the dirt of the desert, learn to accept the art of surrender, and wrestle with my emotional rabies-It is only God who shows up relentlessly. God will never waste an experience, even on me.
The Caveat. Let reader beware! This book is littered with profanity, and as of today, I have not been convicted or persuaded to remove any of it. The position I have taken, is that life can be insanely profane, and evil. I had hoped that I could use softer language to deliver my story, but it would not be authentic to the human being who was dragged through a cumulation of unprovoked f*ckery. I had tried to write the book with softer, more palatable words, however the gentle words fell flat and I was incapable of describing the tension and weight I carried in my soul. I believe that at some point in our lives, we are going to be gutted. Life is insane, and I pray that I can deliver a satisfactory description of my desperation and anguish, while showing how Gods was present when I truly believed I was alone. I am in the business of telling, and writing about offensive topics. Telling the truth is radically offensive to people who aren’t ready to hear it, and my intention is not to offend anyone. However, I would be doing God a disservice if I did not share all of the broken parts of me. I will not dilute my words and lessen the intensity. I will not break the tension and completely strip the power from what God had to do to get my attention. It has taken the desert to allure me out of the pit and into my redemption. This is my redemption story.
I am a work in progress but, the results are breathtaking.
The End
“Stay Alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.” (I Peter 5:8)
December 6, 2023
B 4:42
“I am heading to the house…do you want F/V again or something different"
S 4:44
“I could do that one more time. You?”
B 6:23
“Got the goods….on my way home”
S 6:24
“Ok I will pack up”
B and I unpacked the take-out, and before we could start unpacking the business matters of the day. Instead, I asked him about some detail about the affair. Again. We had been divorced for only a few months, and I was still obsessing with the mundane details of his affair. How had he began an affair after only eight weeks into our "therapeutic" separation? We had been advised to separate after seeing three different marriage councilors, and as much as I didn’t want to….I was told I had to pull the trigger. I was deeply unhappy in our marriage, and our therapists reiterated that his diagnosis of avoidant borderline personality disorder would hinder his capacity for intimate relationships. B despised hearing that from therapists. When he struggled to come to acceptance, realizing that it was going to be necessary to face truth, we would consider seeking help from someone new. Following the advice of his personal therapist, I pulled the trigger and initiated the separation two days after my 49th birthday. Eight weeks later, he began an affair that evolved quickly into a relationship.
I was relentless, like a dog on a bone. I needed all of the details about her, and I wanted to dissect his affair all the way to it’s marrow. I had this insatiable need to know what, when, how, and most importantly, why-why her? What was it about her that won him over? I had been married to B for 35 years, yet he has never been emotionally intimate with me. I had felt like I had been living with a stranger and just eight weeks after our separation, he’s was actually f*cking a stranger, and connecting with her through countless texts and calls. He would profess his undying love for me daily, but we had zero connection or compatibility never mind the ability to just shoot the sh*t and have fun. I felt humiliated realizing I’d spent 35 years of my life in a shallow relationship. I had watched this man going in and out of mental health facilities, dedicating much of our relationship to untangling the complexities of his struggles only to watch him simply replace me with a woman he met at a bar. The experience of being abandoned within an eight-week timeframe carries a unique weight. I hated him. I hated him for the speed at which he replaced me, not for the fact that we were over, and I didn’t even hate him for not being capable of engaging in an intimate relationship with me, but that he had the capacity to be available and attentive to this new woman and yet, he also wanted me back. I had seen too much. The deception and betrayal was gutting.
“Why are you even meeting with me?’
“Because I believed in you.”
“You believed in me?”……..
“ Yeah. I believed in you.”
“So, you don’t believe in me now?”
“ No. You still haven’t done the work. I don’t trust you yet. I am still having to explain to you how our life, lies, and affair effected me. You can't offer me an opportunity to grow with you never mind, honesty share truth with me.”
“I share everything with you.”
“Please stop, you don’t. You lie to me all of the time. It is shame. You have to protect your deep shame and justify everything that we have gone through. You blame me for everything. You don't even know you do it, but you do."
“I know I did that to you but, I am new man now. I am the son of the most High God. I am not who I was anymore.”
“Yeah, I understand that. But, we still aren’t healed. You still have mental illness. You have an avoidant Borderline Personality Disorder and narcissistic traits, you have suffered severe emotional neglect. God can give us a new identity but, it didn’t change the hurt we caused each other and to our family. I have to heal. You still have to still face your sh*t and neither one of us gets out of here alive.”
“I know.”
“We are both still so mentally f*cked up. I need help to get through all of this.”
“So, you’re done with me?”
“No. I didn’t say that. I said we both need help. We are both hurting so bad. I am destroyed by all of this. We don’t even know each other.”
“I know you.”
“Actually, you don’t, and I definitely don’t know you. I thought I did but, I realized after the separation, affairs, and divorce….I didn’t know you at all. I do know that you are cruel and mean and you scare the sh*t out of me.”
“I am not that person anymore and you do know me. You were created especially for me.”
“All of this isn't about us. We need to heal for our kids. I am not going to fix it this time. You have to sit in this pit alone. I can’t be the only one who tries to fix us.”
“I need you! Just tell me what to do!”
“You need men. You need a mentor. You need to email the Pastor again.”
“Tell me what to do! Just tell me what you want. Save me. If you know all the answers to this -just tell me. What are saying? Tell me!”
B picked up the bench that sat at the end my twin bed and hummed it across the room hitting the wall. He walked over to me and put his finger in my face and screamed. His voice was changing as I held on to the truth. We were strangers and liars. I lied to save him and he lied to ruin me.
“Don’t worry you won’t have to see me again!”
B glared at me, his face morphing before my eyes. His face became unrecognizable. His eyes locked onto mine. I heard the voice, “Don’t cower.” I refused to break the stare despite the urge to look away. He looked ominous, heavy, and dark. I had spent 35 years of my life with this man and now I didn't recognize his face anymore. I held my stare and the voice that spoke to me when I was 9 years old sitting waiting to brush my teeth, spoke to me, “Don’t cower.”
“Please don’t go. Stay! Sit in this with me….please! This is your shame talking! Let’s get through this together. Don’t go! You said, you would never leave again and we would talk this through. We need to face this stuff for our kids.”
B stared at me, then He punched the door before walking out, leaving our 35 year long relationship shattered. He got into the truck and drove off.
He chose to walk away from the opportunity to do the hard work with me. He chose to avoid the uncomfortable truth. Another chance to face the rottenness of lies and find hope. The healing wasn’t for us anymore it was for our family. We owe our children better. They didn’t deserve the complexities of our own unhealed wounds. However, this was going to be another lost opportunity. He got into the truck and drove away-again. Devastation consumed me as the history and patterns repeated themselves. I was disgusted. We would keep missing the chance to move through the multiple layers of betrayal, deception, and lies. We would choose reactivity over humbleness, and it would be what we would choose every time we entered into conflict. Our triggers were so intense, and painful. It was nearly impossible for us to entertain a healthy conversation about anything at all. B would evade the truth at all cost and now, when I pressed for the truth, he was physically morphing into something not human. We were already divorced. I didn’t need to draw him in or ask him for anymore answers or clarity about anything anymore. It was a futile attempt to gain back my self respect, dignity, and self esteem. Yet, I was still not able to let B drown in his shame and mental f*ckery. I was too sick to let him fail. I believed, I had too much knowledge and education about his mental illness, not realizing that I was actually not allowing him to fail, was feeding the monster. The sound of the truck driving towards the cabin triggered my dog’s anxiety, and he began to pace. The internal voice showed up again, “Don’t cower.”
B opened the front door, and in a strange unfamiliar sweetie pie tone, said, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to do that to you.” Despite his apology, his face remained distorted and unfamiliar and as he entered the room, darkness encompassed the air. He was smiling at me and was walking over to hug me but, the eyes….there was no color in his eye. The hazel hue was missing. I was uncomfortable yet, strangely empowered. Refusing to cower, My soul seemed to act out on it’s own, excited to smile. I looked at him and said, “No. I know you’re still here.” I knew I wasn’t speaking to B anymore, but to the entity residing behind the blackness of his eyes. His face darkened, I smiled once more and said, “Gotcha, bitch.” I questioned if I had said that out loud, my ego seeking vindication even as my consciousness was well aware of how inappropriate that statement was. I knew I had just taunted a demon, but I felt as if I had finally been handed over the enemy that I had spent my entire life hunting down. I felt a sense of control, knowing the Holy Spirit was there to back me up. The truth was standing in front of me, and my arrogance was fueling my desire for reckless abandonment. I wanted to go to war. I was engaged and felt ruthless. That feeling was more than likely stemming from my unmedicated ADHD and not from a desire to go to spiritual war with the underworld. I wanted a fire fight not prayer time and the entity wanted a physical fight too. B had been getting violent and physically abusive over the last couple of years and I was too.
He began to rage, and in the midst of his defensive rant, told me to “fuck off.” He pointed his finger in my face and pushed me back. I stood still. I wouldn’t cave to whatever it was that was actually in control of B. B raised his arms, and went to put his hands around my neck. The voice simply said, “Don’t cower.” I told B to "back up.” He didn’t. I said it again, “back up.” I was still smiling and strangely, and my soul went into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. My rational mind was screaming, “you are in imminent danger!” But, my attempts to stop my impending murder failed miserably. I was the go-between between a violent and threatening demonic entity and the Holy Spirit’s directive not to cower, I was in a very precarious and perplexing situation. He hurled his cell phone against the door and left spinning his tires with the stones of my new driveway flying he drove away from the truth again.
B was only gone for less than a minute, he came back immediately. My dog, cowered in complete fear, and yet, in the midst of the impending chaos, a sense of the Holy Spirit flowing through the room enveloped us, replacing fear with an unexplained calm. My dog seemed to feel the peaceful presence at the same time I did and he went and laid on my bed. He was my guardian and protector but, not tonight. He knew this was a much bigger predator than he was used to. We both looked at each other and waited.
B violently flung the door open, still consumed by rage and violence. His eyes were still black and his screams filled the air, but the words were muffled and confusing. He pushed me again, and I fell back onto the couch. He turned to leave but, the Holy Spirit pleaded with what sounded a lot like urgency “Why don’t you pray? Just pray. You need to pray!”
As B and his demon reached to open the door, the words, “You need to pray” had left my lips. He turned around and glared at me. I could feel the hesitation and resistance from whatever evil force was residing in him, but he seemed to be forced to walk back to me. He stood 3 feet away from me and hung his head. He reluctantly started to pray. His words were basic and lacked any emotion. You could feel his disgust dripping off his every word, and the foul was oozing from his pores. Our two energies were repelling off of each other and the room pulsated with energy. I stared at him while he spoke to God, knowing that I couldn’t trust him or his intentions. As I watched him pray his body began to soften. His head bowed a little lower, and his shoulders slumped, as if a weight was being lifted off of his body but, the energy in the room was bouncing off every wall.
B, now morphing from antagonistic to surrender, whispered, “God please help me.” As B uttered, “Please God help me,” time and space lost their grip. In an instant, he was violently thrown through the air, passing between me and an enormous hutch, crashing onto the floor. The dog didn’t move. I was blown back onto the couch by the force of it all. I didn’t move either. I was not able to rationalize what had just happened. Was it a massive heart attack, a sudden blackout caused by high emotion, or had I just witnessed an unexpected exorcisms? Judging by the reactions of my dog and me, it seemed we had all been unwitting participants in a profound spiritual struggle snuggle. The air in my cabin felt remarkable pure, untouched by anything that had come before it. The air was so pure that I couldn’t even smell the lingering scent of the skunk’s effervescence that had recently assaulted both my dog and my living quarters. B laid perfectly still for minutes. His hands began to turn purple and his face drained of all the color. I toyed with calling 911. I couldn’t move my limbs to dial my phone. I sat there, watching, wondering what would unfold next and yet, I was more curious as to who would be showing up....................
Less than a month later, as I sit here, I wish that he had not only been delivered from a demon, but I also had longed for a miraculous healing from all of our mental f*ckery. However, B still has a diagnosis of avoidant borderline personality disorder and vulnerable/covert narcissim, and I still have CPTSD with an insatiable codependent desire to save everyone. As he defended himself, I placated to the fantasy. The toxicity and cyclonic discussions continued but, we had to get through Christmas. I wanted God to have released us both from the bondage of our patterns but, He didn’t. We still have to do the all of the work to eradicate the generational bullsh*it.
So, again, I have committed to breaking the cycle of abuse for myself, my children, and my grandchildren, aiming for a future where they are much more than a reflection of the diseases and distortions of our family histories.
