Category: Been There, Done That

Been There, Done That · Food For Thought · observations · Opinions

A casual observation…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

I haven’t written in a while because I’ve been consumed with my novel. It’s almost finished and ready for submission! Close enough I can taste it! However, I felt compelled to take a break to work through a statement that set me off. Actually, I’ve been mulling whether I want to write anything about this for four or five days. I decided I did. On the surface, the statement is nothing that significant. More a meaningless variation of a platitude uttered too many times in a day. That being said, this statement probably wouldn’t have bothered me if it hadn’t touched my life and my beliefs. But it did.

I found the statement lurking innocently in the A/N of a fanfiction. Yes, I read, and have written, fanfiction. No, I’m not on a rant against the evils of ff. It’s more a rant against the inadvertent damage we do with our blind mission to “speak no evil” and “hurt no one.” While I don’t advocate insensitivity, emotional cruelty, or hurting someone to satisfy base curiosity, everything that causes pain or offends isn’t automatically hate speech or one of those “sins” you shouldn’t do. While I know my take isn’t popular today, my perspective comes from the fact I’ve lived through what this young woman commented on in her Author’s Note.

It was words to the affect of, “That’s victim blaming. Don’t do it.” I believe it was those exact words or very close to it. Before you get your hackles up because I’ve dared say victim blaming is okay, that isn’t what I’m saying at all. I’m speaking as a Survivor who “victim blamed” myself for years so I don’t believe in victimizing a victim. I also don’t believe in being a victim when you can choose, over time with healing, to be a survivor instead.

This young woman clearly believes what she’s saying and it’s “right” on the surface. I don’t fault her for that. However, it’s also “wrong” when you scratch a little deeper because that attitude silences dialogue that has the potential to educate, share, and heal. Thank God other women, and a few men, were willing to listen to and talk with me over the years. Thank God I’ve been able to listen to, empathize with, and talk with other women who were hurting over the years. If you don’t think those conversations were painful, and sometimes offensive, they were. But they were necessary.

For the record, I’m not talking about therapist or counselors or abused women hot lines. While I’m grateful for those professional outlets, I’m talking about other human beings who’d lived through the same thing. Sometimes worse and sometimes not as bad; but still people with a frame of reference willing to help me navigate the darkness and worthlessness I was experiencing. Ultimately, it was up to me to work through my issues after that. But I couldn’t have done it without the compassion and understanding I would never have received if we hadn’t dared to open emotional doors and speak through the pain. I wouldn’t have been able to do the same for others if it hadn’t been done for me.

While I don’t fault this young woman for sharing the politically correct mindset so prevalent today, I’m writing from the perspective of someone who’s actually lived through what she feels so strongly about. Not someone who has a friend or relative who’s lived through “it” or read about it. Nope. As someone who has survived physical, mental, and emotional abuse at the hands of a spouse, actually two spouses, and being molested as a child and raped as an adult more than once. That being said, I’ve earned the right to my beliefs.

For the backstory, if you’re interested, this young woman wrote a fanfic in which the protagonist is raped. Nothing graphic. Just a blip on the screen to further the story line. Apparently someone wrote a review asking why this character didn’t do something to stop it. The author responded in her Author’s notes at the bottom of the chapter very emphatically that asking this was “Victim Blaming” and don’t do it. She further commented how even the strongest person can freeze at a time like this.

Okay, I’ll agree that victim blaming does exist. However, asking why the victim didn’t do something to prevent this isn’t necessarily victim blaming. It’s not the question itself that’s the problem. It’s the reason behind the asking that may be. Believe me, I asked myself that question for years and, from people I’ve talked with, I can tell you experiences differ from survivor to survivor. From my perspective, I never froze and I was never helpless. My mind was more focused on staying alive and not getting hurt more than I already was. For me personally, I never had a deer in the headlights experience. I also never had a “victim” experience. I had to see myself as a survivor to regain any semblance of self-respect.

For what I’m saying to make any real sense, you should know my first scrape with the “r” word happened when I was 19. I don’t remember much about it since some kind of drug was used and I “lost” several hours. The “friend” who’d orchestrated this event wrote me a letter years later apologizing for what she’d done; but she wasn’t willing to fill in the blanks so the flashbacks made sense. My next brush with rape was in my twenties. I was married and marital rape does exist. The last thing I wanted to do was have sex with the man who’d just beat the stuffing out of me for some imaginary slight like not dressing like a whore in public. (For the record we were both college educated, white collar professionals, from “good” – not wealthy – families so this nightmare should never have happened. Right? Don’t believe that one.) But, I did, and I pretended to enjoy it. In my world I had two choices, I could either perform “willingly” or perform unwilling after being forced.

Since my body was getting used either way, I chose the path of least resistance which was both shameful and degrading. I did it because I was 1200 miles from home, isolated, and at a physical disadvantage. It took me 4 years to escape that situation and it took me another twenty-five years to fully embrace those traumas don’t define me. But, I did, and that’s why I have issues with shutting down dialogue as victim shaming. Being able to share both heals and helps someone cope with the same situation or, better yet, avoid the situation all together.

My general problem with the whole no hurt, no offend, no harm, no trigger, no mention, no whatever culture I live in is important dialogues get shut down before they get started. If I’d lived in the culture I find myself in thirty years ago where no one reached out to me because they were afraid of the consequences of doing so, I would still be the self-loathing, wounded, angry, bitter, suicidal woman of little value to myself or anyone else I used to be. I’m grateful I didn’t live in that world and I’m asking you to take a look at the society we live in now. It’s taken what should be common courtesy and respect for another human being to a place that is both frightening and harmful. It’s a world where you’re reluctant to speak for the fear of being punished for daring to have an opinion that differs from the “norm.”

My norm is a little more compassionate and real.

Until next time,

Calla

A Story for Another Blog or How a Not-So-Good Southern Baptist Became a True Blue Charismatic (Part I)…
Been There, Done That · emotional healing · Food For Thought · Judeo-Christian Perspective · observations · Opinions · Religious

A Story for Another Blog or How a Not-So-Good Southern Baptist Became a True Blue Charismatic (Part I)…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

It wasn’t an easy journey and I’m not going to recap the whole sordid tale. You’ve read bits and pieces in past posts. (For anyone interested in the whole story, Been There, Done That…Had the Smashed Up Face to Prove It by Calla MacKenna is on Amazon.) Instead, I will say by the time I ended up in Florida thirteen years ago, I was a tired, bitter woman. My ex-husband’s bad business practices had cost me everything from my house to my savings three years before. I say “my” because this man had nothing to do with the accumulation of those assets and everything to do with losing them. However, that being said, it was my decision to allow this man into my life so I’m equally at fault for my financial losses.

Since I’ve admitted that, I might as well admit my ex-husband wasn’t my husband when all this happened. We were “engaged” when we went into business together and we were successful at first. About six months into the business I started seeing signs of what I later learned was mental illness well-hidden beneath charm, charisma, and well-documented past successes. Unfortunately, I eventually learned that while he had been wildly successful in the past, he’d tanked every one of those past endeavors the same way he tanked our business. None of that came to light until many years later when his family set his cons straight.

While losing everything was bad enough, my ex added insult to injury by cheating on me almost from the start. That’s the reason I didn’t marry him. By the time I suspected he was doing this it was too late to kick him out of my life. The business was thriving and I had too much to lose if I rocked the boat including my pride. None of that mattered in the end. The business failed and I was trapped with no way out or so I thought.

Reality was far different.

In life that’s often the case. Our perception a.k.a. “our reality” often differs greatly from the truth of the situation. I actually wasn’t trapped in anything; but, I lacked the life experience to realize this. I could have kicked this abuser out of my life, ridden the storm out where I was, and started over exactly when the dust settled. It wouldn’t have been pleasant; but, it was doable. I didn’t do that. I chose the “easy” way instead. Right. Nothing about the past sixteen years has been easy. Thanks to my ex I eventually ended up in Florida exactly as God intended instead.

If you’re wondering why, the answer is simple. I had nothing, no-one, and nowhere to go. Or, more accurately, that was my perception of my reality. For a person who’d always paid my debts in full on time, this mess was devastating . I didn’t know what to do or how to handle the nightmare I’d stepped into. In those first desperate moments I decided it was better the devil I knew than the hell I didn’t. Fear will make you do stupid things and I was terrified. Scared enough to stay with a man I practically hated. That’s how I thought things were playing out for several years.

I now know God was slowly turning what was meant for evil to good. He had me even when I didn’t have Him. In the end He was steering me where He wanted me to go even if it took a roundabout journey through eight different states. Near the end of the journey I tried to return home to South Carolina. I had a good job lined up and I was a third of the way home when I felt compelled to turn around and return back to the place I’d just left.

My ex had become deathly ill a couple of months earlier. He’d spent two weeks on life support and he still wasn’t fully functional. However, he was still able to harm me physically and he had which was what led me to finally leave in the first place. The only problem with my bid for freedom is there was no-one but me left to care for him since he’d alienated everyone else. I knew he’d die if I left him. Or I felt that way. Whether it was true or not, I couldn’t take that risk even though I wanted to. I tried to. However, I couldn’t live with myself if I left and something horrible happened to him. So, I did what I had to do. I turned around and changed the course of my life forever.

A few months later, we found ourselves in Florida living with my ex’s stepmother. A few months later, we got married even though we didn’t have any real relationship left by that time. As stupid as this sounds, I agreed to make his stepmother “happy” largely because I’d never lived with anyone and I’d never wanted to. To my crazy way of thinking at the time, getting married would somehow legitimize the nightmare of the last few years and erase the shame of failure. It didn’t do any of that. In fact, all it did was add another divorce to my tally and reinforce the fact otherwise intelligent, sane people do insane things for stupid reasons.

Moving on, my ex’s stepmother finally cracked my hard emotional shell enough to become my “Mom.” My real mother died from cancer back in 1996 so I was more than willing to accept love from anywhere I could get it. I gradually started watching the religious stations with her every chance I got. While I was still in a dark place, I was on my way to rediscovering the faith I’d once abandoned. A few months later I started visiting the Charismatic church Mom attended even though it wasn’t my kind of place. In fact, I found the whole experience unsettling and freaky.

I’d heard my real Mom talk about visiting Charismatic churches back in the ’60’s; but, I’d never visited one myself. The only reassurance I had in those early days that I wasn’t taking the high road to hell was the fact I loved, respected, and trusted my second Mom and I knew she felt the same. I also knew she’d been raised Southern Baptist like me. If she thought the nuttiness was okay, then it had to be. Besides, I was desperate for healing and redemption. Again, any way I could get it. This Church seemed a likely place to accomplish that. You see, I’d been embraced with love and acceptance from the moment I walked through the door. But. I wasn’t comfortable.

Reading this, you might wonder what my problem was. That’s simple. Those people said and did things totally foreign to my background. Things most good Southern Baptists would never do like prophesying, laying on hands, shouting, dancing, and speaking in tongues! I wasn’t sure whether to bolt or make the sign of the cross. I didn’t do either. I stayed instead. Every time I entered that sanctuary, I was saturated in the presence of the Holy Spirit and I knew that was where I belonged. I could feel it in my soul. Besides, I might as well give this whole Word of Faith thing a shot. I’d already tried everything I was willing try and I hadn’t ended up where I wanted to go. At that point, I was as close to rock bottom as I could get so I had nothing left to lose. But, I had everything to gain even if I didn’t know it.

However, it took me quite a few years to get from there to here…

Until Part 2, I remain,

Calla

Been There, Done That · emotional healing · Food For Thought · observations

When the going gets tough, the tough keep going…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

Or we lose everything. I believe that with all of my heart. I haven’t posted anything relevant to emotional healing in a couple of months because I’ve been in a dark place that has nothing to do with Covid-19, work, or any of the normal stressors we’ve all been wading through. I knew I couldn’t share encouragement when I was drowning in negativity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’d given up in the midst of the battle. I hadn’t. I was temporarily overwhelmed by a sea of grief and depression caused by events beyond my control.

On June 9th, 2020, I caught my purse in the door and twisted wrong on my way to the car. By the time I arrived at work. I could barely walk. I spent the next five weeks out of work in incredible pain. Three months later I’m finally coming out of the inflammatory flare and resuming a more normal life. If that wasn’t enough, my five year old dachshund was hit with sudden onset Addison’s disease. She was in a severe crisis at the same time I was barely mobile. Allie ended up in the veterinary hospital for a couple of weeks receiving the appropriate treatment. While I checked on her every day, I couldn’t see her because of Covid-19. Not until she took a turn for the worse and her Vet called me in to see her. To make a long story short, five weeks ago I was holding my pup on my lap discussing treatment options on a Tuesday night and unexpectedly putting her to sleep the following night. It hurt so bad to lose that dog I thought my heart would literally burst. Thankfully, I was off the next day and I was fine. However, by the time I got to work on Friday, I wasn’t. I suddenly couldn’t talk. Actually, I could talk, just not coherently. My speech was garbled. While I knew what I wanted to say, I couldn’t get it out coherently. I scared the heck out of my bosses. Eventually, we determined I hadn’t had a stroke. I’d just finally reached the end of what I could take.

Between my Mom’s fall in October, the bedroom/bathroom renovation, working full time, Mom’s stroke, her recurring kidney infections/hospitalizations, and taking care of her, the Covid-19 shut down, my illness, Allie’s illness and losing her, and mounting medical bills my body finally reached it’s limit physically, emotionally, and mentally. The inability to talk was the physical manifestation I was done.

It was also an embarrassing experience I had to come to terms with. No, I don’t think anyone should be ashamed of being depressed or overwhelmed. Or of seeking treatment for those conditions. Both responses are normal parts of life for most of us. However, it isn’t for me. Not any more. I spent most of my life in a negative haze of depression. I had no joy. I was suicidal at times. I have no problem admitting I had the pills in hand more than once. Only my fear of being separated from God stopped me from taking them. That and the fear I wouldn’t take enough to actually kill me only cause irreparable physical damage. Yes, I think too much. Even while contemplating offing myself. Yes, I’m laughing at myself and my inherent weaknesses. When I finally fought my way out of that haze a few years back, I decided depression was a state of mind I didn’t have to accept. Not as long as I acknowledged I was prone to slipping into that mindset and I chose to actively fight it by finding something positive in the negative. However, my go-to strategy didn’t work this time. Losing Allie, even though her passing was peaceful and painless, catapulted me into a state of debilitating emotional pain and depression. It also made me combative and impatient. Overwhelmed. Angry. Short-tempered. Not a very nice person to know. Being in extreme physical pain didn’t help. No, that’s not an excuse just a fact. I didn’t even like myself very much which didn’t help my overall state of mind at all.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve started exiting that dark head space. To do that, I had to make myself find the silver linings in my recent experiences. It wasn’t easy; but, I had to do it. Find those something positives and say them out loud. Over and over until the positive loop started overriding the negative loop already playing in my head. I had to start with the fact that, in the midst of my grief, I still have Stinky to love. He’s my fifteen year old dachshund and the “brother” Allie liked to aggravate. I’m blessed he’s a happy, healthy boy. I’m also fortunate he never really bonded with his “sister” because of their different temperaments so he doesn’t miss her at all. Next, I had to accept new medical bills aren’t the end of the world. They’ll be paid before I know it. Getting out of debt is something I’ve been working towards for a while so I’ve just had to accept that it’ll take a little longer than originally planned. And, finally, while I’m still in mild pain, I’m grateful what’s wrong with my back isn’t anything that can’t be managed with treatment and diet. I don’t need surgery. Lastly, while I still have some occasional blips with my speech, it’s improving every day as I let go of the things that stress me.

In closing, I want to say struggles are a part of life. How we each handle those struggles is what sets us apart from the crowd. Don’t accept being depressed, overwhelmed, or lost. Get help if you need to. There’s no shame in that. I’m grateful for the short-term medication that helped me get control of my emotions to the degree my speech was pretty close to normal in a couple of weeks. I wouldn’t have been there without help. I also want to encourage you not to give up the fight. Whatever the battle, it’s temporary. I can’t promise the struggle you’re going through won’t last days, week, months, or even years. I can promise you’ll emerge on the other side if you don’t give up the fight. I can also assure you, as long as you still have breath, you can rebuilt your life and find some degree of happiness. I know that from experience. I’ve started over so many times it would make your head spin. There’s nothing wrong in that either. We all try. We all fail. If you’re tough enough, you start over again.

I want to encourage you to do just that. Fight the battle, whatever it is, and never give up. When it’s finally done, start over again. Embrace joy where you find it. Understand happiness truly is whatever YOU make it. Where you finally end up might not be the ideal life you imagined. But, it will be the life you make it and that’s a wonderful thing.

Stay strong and I’ll “see” you soon,

Calla

Been There, Done That · emotional healing · Judeo-Christian Perspective · observations · Religious

Life is an ever evolving journey meant to be embraced with joy…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

Even when your reality is anything but. For most of my life I’d read something so saccharine with a cynical snort and a tragic dose of wistfulness. I think a lot of us have that attitude. I just couldn’t find a whole lot of joy in my life. If you’ve read some of my past posts, you know my story isn’t pretty.

I lived forty-four of my fifty-six years on the cusp of suicide. I wanted my life to end; but, I wouldn’t end it. The only thing that stayed my hand was the possibility of being eternally separated from God. Even though I wasn’t remotely Christian during most of that time, I did believe in God. He was enmeshed in the very fiber of my being whether I wanted Him there or not. I didn’t. Not really. You see, my God was a God who punished my every transgression. He wasn’t a merciful Jesus who forgave my sins and loved me anyway. I was wrong.

For most of my life.

Please don’t miss the significance of what I’m about to say: how I viewed God wasn’t His fault. It was mine. However, He was still my Father and I loved Him. I now know I identified with the vengeful aspect of God the most because I viewed myself through a similar lens. Without mercy. My concept of right and wrong was absolute. There weren’t any shades of gray in my black and white. Under the right circumstance, that’s a good thing. It keeps you resolute to your moral convictions in a world of every changing values. In this instance, it was a bad thing. My rigid self-perception meant that since I couldn’t forgive myself, my God couldn’t forgive me either. Even for the things I had no control over. I believe a lot of you are in a similar boat.

We’re both wrong.

God’s capacity for forgiveness is far greater than we can fathom. While I know that’s true now, I didn’t back in the day. What I did know, as screwed up as I was, is that I couldn’t imagine a life without my Creator in it. I knew that was possible if I took my own life. Whether my belief was true or not, I can’t answer. Opinions go both ways. All that really matters is that fear was enough to stay my hand when I had the pills in hand. It’s a question I still can’t answer with any certainty. Ultimately, I think only God can answer that one since only He is privy to the influences operating on and in a person’s life in those desperate moments.

Moving on, like my past couple of blogs, this one isn’t for everyone. If you’ve made it this far, you can see this piece is overtly religious. I struggled with whether to start a separate blog for my “spiritual” pieces since I’ve tried to straddle the fence between generalities and my personal beliefs as much as possible in the majority of my posts. In the end, I decided I’m not two different people so I won’t write two different blogs. Instead, I’ll tag my future pieces with strong religious overtones as “Judeo-Christian/Religious” instead.

This is one of those blogs.

While I had a clearly defined purpose when I started this a few days ago, that original intent has fallen by the wayside. I don’t work from an outline. I write from the heart. From where I am mentally, spiritually, and emotionally in the moment I’m writing. Honestly, in this moment, I’m struggling to survive the past ten months and come out on the other side. If you’ve read my past posts, you know I’m the primary caretaker for my 91 year old Mom who’s been through a lot since she took a bad fall in October of last year. She’s had a stroke and battled several serious infections since February of this year. Fortunately, she’s doing well and has been for a couple of months.

Now it’s my turn to push through my own physical battles. On June 11th, I twisted wrong and sent myself into a very painful inflammatory flare from hell. I couldn’t walk two feet for almost three weeks. It took five weeks total get the flare under control enough I could return to work. We’re still trying to figure out what caused this. If that’s not enough, I had to put my beloved five year old dachshund to sleep this Wednesday due to a rare illness she couldn’t overcome. Today is August 1st, 2020, four days later, and my world is still crazy. On Friday, I developed a speech disorder that has scared the heck out of everyone. I haven’t had a stroke. I’ve had all that checked out. But, again, we don’t know what’s causing it beyond stress. Between Allie and myself, I have medical bills I will only be able to pay with divine intervention which I fully expect to have.

You might wonder why I’m writing all of this.

Honestly, it isn’t what I started out writing or intended to write. The truth is, I’m writing this to strengthen myself in my faith. I don’t have a choice. Not if I remain true to my beliefs. God doesn’t promise me I won’t have pain or bad things won’t happen. He only promises He will get me through them. He also promises, if I’ll let Him, He will take these bad events and use them for my good. That’s the promise I’m holding on to as I struggle through the pain of ending Allie’s suffering and my own physical, mental, and spiritual pain. Something good is coming from this.

I’ll let you know what it is as soon as it manifests.

There’s a lot more I’d like to say about how a Southern Baptist girl from South Carolina suddenly found herself a full-blown Charismatic Christian. But, that’s a story for another blog. Honestly, my conversion wasn’t sudden. It took me about a year to get over being spooked by certain aspects of the faith I’d grown to love. It took me a full ten years to get the gift of tongues so it hasn’t been an easy journey. But, it’s been the most meaningful journey of my life.

I’m going to end this blog with the Bible Scriptures I’m standing on to get me through this moment. Whether you’re a believer or not, I think they’ll help you. Oh, and if you’re a believer who thinks the Old Testament isn’t for us or it doesn’t apply – you need to rethink your stance! These verses apply to any believer…

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” Psalm 56:3 (NIV)

“Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” Psalm 55:22 (NIV)

“Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him music and song.” Psalm 95:2 (NIV)

“Your love, Lord, reaches to the Heavens, your faithfulness to the skies.” Psalm 36:5 (NIV)

This is just a handful of the scriptures I’m standing on right now. A couple of the others are Isaiah 53:5-7 and 1 Peter 2:24 for my healing. Pull out your Bible and look them up or do the Google thing. They’re powerful promises we all need. As for that debt that will be paid, I’m looking at Matthew 11:23 since I’m casting that debt into the sea.

However, the looking is the easy part.

To stand and stand again is a little harder; but, it must be done.

Until next time,

Calla.

Been There, Done That Part 2 · observations · writing

Whatever the “New Normal” is…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

My life hasn’t changed that much. I doubt it will. For the past few weeks, I’ve gone to work, come home, and worn a mask when I needed to. Not all that different from the way it’s always been (mask excluded). Not from my perspective. Maybe that’s because I’ve never been “normal.” I’ve spent most of my life on the outside looking in. Feeling more “different” than I probably was. I’m sure a lot of us feel that way at some point in our lives.

However, if you spent any time around me, you’d quickly realize I wasn’t your typical teen-aged anything. For one thing, in spite of my avid pursuit of fashionable clothes, makeup, and hair, I had less innocuous interests as well. All you had to do was skim my reading material to see that.

Tucked among the stacks of dog-eared second-hand Harlequins, historical romances, and fantasy novels, were various archaeology, science, and psychology magazines. Tucked among those were the requisite Cosmo and Glamour just to keep me girlie. Smacked untidily on top of all that you’d find the latest Han Holzer book recounting his most recent paranormal investigations. While I straddled the fence between belief and disbelief, I tilted more in the direction of wanting to believe in things that go bump in the night. You know, ghosts, poltergeists, vampires, werewolves, and aliens. I was young and I enjoyed poking around in crazy places.

However, in spite of my tendencies, I’ve never taken other people’s opinions or facts as my own. I’ve always done my research. So, in spite of what I wanted to believe, I’m not a true believer. I wasn’t then and I’m not now. There are more “things” on earth and in the Heavenlies than we’ll ever understand in spite of our on-going efforts. That includes all the people shouting their beliefs to anyone who will listen without offering reliable proof that isn’t twisted to suit their purposes. I occasionally watch those shows, too, and I have for close to thirty years. I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes here. I’ve devoted my life to studying ancient and medieval history across multiple cultures and disciplines. I stay pretty up-to-date on the latest discoveries in a lot of different fields that have nothing to do with archaeology. I’m a curious person.

It ‘s never enough to make a statement to the effect of “Is so-and-so true?” then conclude with, “So-and-so say, yes.” as if it’s definitive proof about ANYTHING in life. Just because someone says whatever doesn’t make it true and, yes, I still believe in absolute truths that aren’t fluid. Call it my age, my personality, or my life experience. I call it my need to be fixed in a reality that doesn’t change with the wind and trending opinions. I’m still a “truth-seeker” in a world where absolutes aren’t popular. That doesn’t mean my opinions don’t alter or change as I uncover new information. They can and they do. That’s how we grow and mature as human beings. It’s a valid part of the human experience.

In this age of technology and impatience, we don’t necessarily want that experience. We’re much too easily swayed by what we “google,” see on the news, or read on social media. We don’t take the time to do the in depth research necessary to make informed decisions for ourselves. We rely on others to do that for us.

The problem with that is we’re all biased in some way or the other. Some of us operate in the open; others operate from hidden agendas. That’s just a fact of life. That’s why it’s so important we think for ourselves from an informed position. We can’t blindly follow the herd or get trapped in our fears. I’ve always thought for myself; but, for years, my actions and reactions were influenced by deeply buried traumas and fears. I suspect a lot of us are flopping around in that boat on stormy seas without even realizing it. I never did.

Getting back to my original topic, you’d find my stash of mythology and astrology books under my bed and on my desk. As far as I was concerned, there was a kernel of truth in those myths and I was a “truth-seeker.” I’d go where the research took me. As for the Astrology books, they were empowerment. If you’ve read some of my past posts, you already know I believed if I knew what might happen, I could stop/control what did happen. That mindset is a devious deception that will lead you into making the very decision propelling you into the situation you’re trying to prevent. Again, that attitude is fear based and fear makes you stupid. I know what I’m talking about. I lived with that mindset for many years.

From my present perspective, the best defense against bad things happening is to remain calm, learn from your mistakes, and make wise decisions based on solid research and careful considerations. If you’re a believer, that involves prayer and seeking God’s counsel. If you’re not, it’s a little trickier. My advice is to seek the wisdom of someone you respect and trust who makes the kind of decisions that keeps their life on a positive track. Another thing I’ve learned from experience is, if there’s a voice in your head shouting not to do something, don’t do it. Bluntly, a “what the hell” moment isn’t worth the literal Hell that decision usually leads to. Again, I’ve been there and done that way too many times. Sometimes seemingly bright people can be stubbornly stupid. I’m a case in point.

So, on with the post, and my “magic” bookshelves loaded with everything from raunchy historical romances to books on ancient cultures, UFO’s, and the nineteenth century Spiritualist movement. I was into everything from psychology to black holes. If something had a paranormal or a supernatural bent, I was interested in knowing more. I still am, just from a different perspective. So much of my life was permeated by the Supernatural. It still is. Again, from a different perspective.

However, at that time my seemingly “innocent” pursuit of knowledge and my need to control my life led me deeper into darkness. I learned to cast Astrology charts and read Tarot Cards. I consulted Psychics trying to find stability in my unstable world. As crazy as it sounds now, while I knew I was trafficing in areas I shouldn’t, I didn’t think I was doing anything “wrong.” Maybe not for some people; but, definitely wrong for me and I felt it deep inside. But, I was selectively blind. I was someone who would never touch a oujia board or read ancient spells from a cuneiform text in a history book because I didn’t want those negative words in my head; but, I’d consult a “Christian” medium who spoke words from some “spirit” that scared the heck out of me? What’s screwy about this picture? For the record, I never went back to that woman.

I’m going to wrap this up by saying I was a very lost, confused woman for a lot of years. That’s really what my next book is about. How confusion, low self-esteem, and fear led me down occultic paths that influenced my real-life decisions in destructive ways that reinforced my sense of worthlessness. Even when I walked away from those influences, it took me years to get free of the residual effects. I see that now.

That’s what’s so wonderful about these posts. They take me places I never meant to go. Reveal realities I’d yet to see. Yes, I ramble, and I apologize if that drives you crazy; but, I don’t write from an outline with a succinct message. I write from my heart and soul in the hope I can help myself, as well as you, make sense of an often senseless world.

I’m sure I’ll revisit this topic again; so, until then,

Calla

Been There, Done That · emotional healing · observations · writing

Just Another Strange Moment in my Strange Little World….

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

When I decided to write my blog, I promised myself I wouldn’t write from negativity. That isn’t to say there aren’t “ugly” moments in my posts. There are. That’s part of the second promise I made myself. The one where I agreed to be brutally honest about my life, my journey, and my struggles to be a happier, healthier me. While I occasionally post silly pictures of my dogs, I strive to write more meaningful pieces. Ones I hope will get “liked” not for the ego stroke: but, because that’s how I know I’ve struck a chord with someone and, hopefully, impacted their life for the better. At the least, I’ve made someone think, and that’s important, too.

Before I go any further, since this post will be hitting new social media outlets I’ve never used before, I should inform any new readers I’m a Charismatic Christian at this point in my life. While I try to write from a more general viewpoint, I don’t hide my personal feelings. I’ll also say I haven’t always been a practicing Christian or a Charismatic. I was raised Southern Baptist although I was rarely in church. I’ve lived most of my life as a non-practicing believer. I should also say I’m not trying to convert anyone. You choose your belief system just as I chose mine. What I’m trying to do is make my readers think, abandon destructive habits, live a more content life, and not make the same mistakes I’ve made. One of us living through forty years of emotional Lo-debar is enough.

I’m writing this piece to that end and I’ll admit it’s a little on the odd side. I decided to put my thoughts to “paper” a couple of days ago while I was out walking and praying. I felt God was telling me to write out what I was feeling and thinking in that moment. To confront the last of some ugliness I laid to rest a long time ago. There’s something about putting your thoughts to paper that’s liberating. Words have power on so many levels. So, I’m taking His suggestion and doing that. Putting words to paper.

Just as I did with Been There, Done That…Had the Smashed Up Face to Prove It, I’m writing openly and honestly with no apologies. As I type this, all I can say is welcome to Calla’s strange little world. Strange in the sense that I’m writing a letter to a person who will never see it. Or, more accurately, I don’t think he will. Honestly, I don’t care if he does. This isn’t about him.

It’s about me and the person I left behind when I finally accepted my worth was never defined by the mental, physical, and sexual abuses I’ve endured over the years. It’s about hindsight revelations and emotional freedom. About writing from honesty, vulnerability, and strength. Changing your self-perception involves embracing all three. I know that from experience.

I wasted forty years of my life believing the lies spoken over me. Don’t get me wrong, I never had a victim mentality through it all. I was always a survivor; but, I was handicapped. The secret to my survival wasn’t the healthy mindset that I wasn’t responsible for other people’s actions – They were. – I honestly never saw that. The only reason I made it through the darkness was because some ornery part of me refused to die, commit suicide, or be destroyed even when I wanted the nightmare to end.

With hindsight, I was incredibly stupid and I could have ended my ordeal years before I did. I admit that now. Over the years I was fantastic at dishing out common sense advice that helped a lot of people. It would have helped me, too. If I’d been willing to take it. I wasn’t. By the time I had any wisdom, I’d already accepted I was nothing.

You see, I believed the father who told me I would never be what my Mother was. Right. Never believe the man who abused you. I believed the teachers who told me what I couldn’t do or be. They were wrong; but, I didn’t know it. When everything was said and done, I believed I didn’t matter. Other people did. That’s how I lived my life. For other people. That’s one of the worst mistakes you can make. Yes, take care of people. Give them the love and respect they deserve. But, expect the same love and respect in return.

That’s something I never did…especially when it came to the so called “love of my life.” While I called him that in my mind for many years, I don’t any longer. For one thing, I’m not sure such a person really exists for a lot of us. Sometimes, it’s more of a romanticized idea encompassing the one that got away. While I do believe a lot of people are blessed with healthy, happy long-term romantic relationships, it’s not a given.

It wasn’t for me. Hence, I’m confronting the truth, and laying the fantasy to rest through the following letter:

Dear Ghost From My Past:

You weren’t evil. Not truly. You were just as emotionally damaged as me in ways that weren’t apparent. Not in the beginning. By the time that truth manifested, I was in too deep. While I wish I’d been stronger, I wasn’t. I was flattered a vibrant, successful man like you would pursue a nobody like me instead. I didn’t know what you saw in me back then. I still don’t…not fully anyway.

What I do know is beneath that handsome, successful demeanor was a man with inferiority issues of his own. You wouldn’t expect the women in your life to “prove” their love if you weren’t. While I see that now, I didn’t then. I saw it as an emotional vulnerability resulting from a failed marriage and the loss of daily contact with the children you loved. As I pieced your story together over time, I realized the truth of the matter.

I also realized, we were doomed from the start. We were far too different to last. You wanted someone to love you. I needed someone to love. You were never faithful. I was. I thought you were my savior. You betrayed me instead. Being with me helped you navigate difficulties in your life. Being with you turned me into someone I didn’t know. That wasn’t your fault.

Since I chose to stay, it was mine.

That being said, I’m happy to say I see you through very different eyes today than I did then. With the passage of time and healing, I no longer see a knight in dented armor. I see a weak man worthy of pity. I see a man who found it easier to sneak, lie, and cheat than deal with his intimate relationships honorably. To end one dating relationship before beginning another. I see the man who taught me to never say never as in, “I’d never do that.” and the one who taught me to like myself even less than I already did. It’s not your fault I chose to stay when I found out I was “the other woman” when I thought I was the only one. It doesn’t matter you weren’t married, only dating. It was still dishonorable and destructive to everyone involved.

In the end, I see the relationship I wanted to work that I’m glad didn’t.

I also see the relationship I romanticized until I finally didn’t.

So, in closing, Ghost From My Past, you’re nothing more than the memory of a lesson well learned. I’ve laid the sorrow, guilt, and wistfulness to rest in the wake of seeing truths I should have seen long ago. Mainly, we were bad for each other.

Here’s wishing you all the best,

Living in the Present

If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is I hope you found something valuable in what I’ve said. Something along the lines of, “If your significant other asks you to do things that compromises your values, makes you uncomfortable, or causes you emotional pain walk away.” It’s not a relationship worth pursuing. It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman. Healthy relationships are never built on lies, cheating, or demeaning words or actions. I’ve been there, done that, and reaped years of emotional repercussions.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That · Been There, Done That Part 2 · Life in general · writing

Taking The Next Step

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

As you already know, I’m living under the same stay-at-home-order so many of us are trying to handle. How you choose to deal with this unfamiliar, unpleasant “brave new world” is up to you. Personally, I’m trying to stay safe, keep others safe, pick battles I can win, and be at peace with the insanity I can’t change. Sometimes that’s hard; but, I can’t be content if I don’t try. So, I try, and when I fail, I try again.

I don’t have a choice. No. There’s always a choice. I don’t give myself a choice. There are so many unknowns right now. So many scenarios we need to handle carefully with a degree of wisdom and prudence not everyone possesses. Myself included. We’re living through something none of us have experienced in our lives and it’s hard. Crippling if we let it. This whole situation is like that recurring nightmare you can’t quite escape. The one you have night after night until you either deal with it or decide you don’t want to sleep any more. The big difference is we will escape this one eventually. It will end. We might have to modify our lives for a while; but, we can do it. We’ve done it before. Throughout the life of this country.

If you don’t know I’m speaking truth, look up the real history of this country. Not the Revisionist history that’s taught today if it’s taught at all. Yes, we’ve done bad things in the past. Every culture has. But, that doesn’t negate the fact this country was settled by strong people who fought through bad situations. I’m speaking of both the Native Americans and the European settlers. Both had to roll with a lot of tough situations they couldn’t control. Yet, they persevered.

We can do the same today. If we’re willing to do what it takes. Whether we accomplish that goal or not is up to us as individuals. For me, that’s where prayer comes in. I pray our leaders, all of them, act with wisdom. I pray we the people act with wisdom and consideration for others. That isn’t the easiest thing to do. Where I am, I see a lot of people acting foolishly. When I do go out, I stay as far from everyone as possible. I wear my mask and my gloves. Not just to protect myself and my Mom. To protect the people who don’t protect themselves. The flip side of that coin is when I go walking in my neighborhood I pass a few people here and there along the way. We always wave or smile silently acknowledging each other in passing as we maintain social distancing. I respect those people for being responsible as we all should be.

As I write this blog, I realize I sound like a person I’m really not. I’m not a cheerleader. I can be when I need to be; but, that persona is foreign to my more introverted, scholarly demeanor. However, I’ll admit I’m writing this post as much for myself as for my readers. I could struggle with depression if I allowed it. I won’t. If you’ve read Been There, Done That…you know I spent most of my life in self-loathing and depression. I refuse to go two steps forward and ten steps back. I refuse to be that person again. When I find myself slipping, I cry out to God and give myself a swift mental kick in the rear. I remind myself I’m not “her” anymore and I have positive things to do.

Like writing the next book in the Been There Series. It started downloading yesterday the way it should be. I’m just starting; but, the flow is natural which is everything. If I can’t write in an open, honest way that touches the heart, I shouldn’t write. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing a novel or my life story. Again, this book will be part two of my life story. It’s dealing with my dabbling in the Occult. I’m not really interested in writing about how wrong that is from a religious standpoint. I’m more interested in exploring how what I was doing and believing preyed on my weaknesses and fed my self-loathing. How I thought I was controlling my life when I was, in reality, being controlled. That’s all I can really say at this point since I’m just starting the book.

Anyways, I’ve said enough for now. Somewhere back around my first blog, I admitted I would go all over the place in my posts and I think this one shows I have. In reality, unless I’m focusing on writing a book, my thoughts are all over the place. I’m fifty-five; but, there’s a part of me that will always be that little child chasing butterflies that light here and there only to move on to the next flower in the blink of an eye. I tend to flit from subject to subject absorbing as much as I can before I move on. I’ve finally accepted that’s who I am just as I’ve finally accepted I’m a legitimate author even if I haven’t been published by a major publishing house. Not yet. But, I believe that’s coming.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That · emotional healing

Striking Insights

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

My perception of my universe has greatly changed since writing Been There, Done That. I’ve always seen the hurting people around me and I’ve always tried to help where I can. That hasn’t changed. How I help has. Once upon a time I solved other people’s problems for them. I was quit gifted at that. I couldn’t help myself; but, I could help you and you’d love me for it. I did and they did. As much as anyone loves a convenient problem solver that’s there when you need them and out of sight, out of mind when you don’t.

On the surface that sounds pretty good for the troubled party and not so great for me. You’d be right on both counts. I was getting used and I knew it. However, some part of me hoped the favor would be returned in my hour of need. It never was. While my logical side expected that outcome; the part of me that dared to hope things would be different was devastated. That’s the story of my life until I finally accepted the reality: if you don’t value yourself neither will anyone else. It’s a hard pill to swallow realizing you’re almost fifty-six and you’ve lived forty-six of those years wallowing in nothingness.

Although I’ve said all this before, I’m going to segue into a slightly different direction and return to my initial statement of seeing the world in a different way than I did before writing my book. While I used to solve people’s problems for them, I don’t do that anymore. It doesn’t help either party. While I’m willing to offer clarity if I have anything worthwhile to offer, what you do with my insights is up to you. We each have to work through our problems in a way that works for us. We have to evaluate the situation for ourselves and act accordingly. We’re the one who is actually living through the situation and we’re the one who is privy to all the little nuances we can’t convey.

Why am I writing this? Because I work with a lovely young woman you can’t help but love. I’ve known her for about a year. I don’t know her intimately. I do know a lot of dramas have played out in her life. Through her interactions with co-workers and the way she talks, it’s apparent she doesn’t value herself as she should. Trying events in her personal life reflect that as well. As much as it pains me to say it, I see too much of me in her. Too much of the “nothing” and not enough of that inherent “something” that gives us value. (As a Christian, that something is the fact I know God created me and loves me because I’m His creation. Again, how you find your self-worth is up to you and your personal path. We all choose what we believe.)

I was talking to this young twenty-something a couple of days ago and she said a couple of things I had to gently correct. I’ve talked with her enough to see her “humility” for what it really is: a total lack of self-worth. I called her on it the other day and she agreed. I don’t know her past or what has caused her to feel the way she feels about herself. If I had to hazard a guess based on the little I know, I’d say she’s been betrayed by too many people she loved who should have loved her in return. Not all of them the men in her life although this last betrayal was definitely the man in her life.

Since I’ve talked to her about what I’ve seen on several occasions to no real effect, I finally offered to give her my book. Let her see the similarities between us for herself. She gladly accepted. I probably should have done that a long time ago; but, it seemed arrogant to me. Like I was doing something somehow self-serving. This time it didn’t feel that way.

Given the current betrayal she’s going through right now, she might be able to identify a little more with some of my experiences than she would have in the past. While our situations aren’t the same, the betrayal is similar. Someone we trusted betrayed us in the worst possible way.

For her, the man she loved walked out on her and his responsibilities. Adding insult to injury, he made their shared workplace so hostile towards her that it was healthier for her to leave a job she needed than be tormented by her co-workers. For me, my white collar, well educated ex-husband beat me and gave me to other men betraying our marriage vows and shattering any remaining self-worth I had. As she’ll see in my book, I was about her age when that happened. I escaped him; but, the patterns were set and the damage was done. Truthfully, the initial damage was done ten years before; but, this was the event that finished me off for the next twenty plus years.

It’s my hope reading my book will help my friend to see herself in a different light. That she’ll begin to see herself the way we see her and find her self-worth. I’m not saying my book will “cure” her. Far from it. But, I am saying she may find some tools she can use to help her on her journey of restoration. While my healing started with a return to my faith, that didn’t suddenly heal me. I’m not saying the Lord can’t do that, He can. I am saying it didn’t happen with me.

To heal, I had to face every brutal thing that ever happened to me. I had to confront every experience head on with complete honesty. I had to work through forty-five years of rage and self-loathing. I had to take responsibility for every bad choice I made that put me in a position to get hurt. But, I didn’t have to take responsibility for what other people did to me. That was their choice and their responsibility. I did have to forgive them and forgive myself. I had to fight every day to change the script in my head. To change the words I said to myself and about myself. I still fight that battle every day. But, I’m so much better than I used to be.

To be honest, I believe that’s the single most important step to emotional healing. You have to stop speaking words of destruction to yourself about yourself. You have to stop speaking them to other people. You have to replace your usual vocabulary with words that reinforce you have value both to yourself and other people. At first, it feels wrong. Like you’re being self-serving. You aren’t. You’re reprogramming yourself to expect to be treated with the same love and respect you treat other people.

In my book, that’s the only way to live.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That · Been There, Done That Part 2 · emotional healing

Getting Back on Track…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

It’s been awhile since I could even think about my second book much less put pen to paper. While life is still hectic; I’ve found a moment here and there to write. That’s a good thing. I’ve felt both guilty and lost the past couple of months I haven’t written anything worthwhile. Guilty I’ve neglected my assignment and lost I haven’t engaged in an activity that’s as vital to me as breathing. I tried to write. It didn’t work. I didn’t have the physical or emotional fortitude to wallow in the darkness long enough to share anything of value while my Mom was ill. Now that she’s home, I’m in a different place. So, here it goes.

I’m still brainstorming what I want to include in my second book. I know I don’t have it right because the ideas aren’t flowing easily as they should. While I know the general concept, it’s the additional ideas I want to weave through the story that give me pause. I’m still trying to decide whether my content should be one book or two. Honestly, I probably won’t even begin sifting through my thoughts until January. I work retail . That says it all. In the meantime, I’m going to blog about anything and everything that crosses my mind to get back in the writing game.

What’s on my mind at the moment is a sermon I was listening to this morning on tv. This Pastor is very real and very relatable. He touched on things I still struggle with from time to time. Don’t get me wrong, as far as I’m concerned, I’m healed and restored. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t have brief moments of depression or worthlessness. I just stay diligent reminding myself I can’t be depressed if I’m not willing to embrace the emotion. I’m not being overly simplistic or insensitive. I just happen to know my past (and sometimes present) real, crippling bouts of depression come from how I perceive myself. Not from a chemical imbalance or any other physical cause. It’s emotionally based and always has been. Every self-loathing, suicidal moment I’ve ever experienced can be traced back to the self-hatred caused by some form of abuse or loss.

To cut to the chase, I know if I allow old habits and old perceptions I’ve laid to rest to rise again, I have to fight the battle I’ve fought so many times all over again. Between you and me, that gets old real fast. It’s far better to nip that sense of worthlessness in the bud before it takes root in my psyche again. Right now, it’s a constant battle. I won’t say it always will be. I don’t believe that and I won’t call that state into being. What I do believe is I’m a little over a year from making peace with myself and that isn’t long at all. I have old injuries that took longer than that to fully heal. That being said, only a fool would expect to be completely free of a lifetime of physical, mental, sexual, and emotional abuse in a short period of time and I’m not a fool.

Instead, I’m a woman eagerly anticipating the new life she so recently embarked on. I’m also a woman who’s come to realize we all have skeletons in our closet. We all have experiences in our past that cause great shame. It doesn’t matter your gender or sexual identification. We’re human. What does matter is two things separate the victim from the survivor.

The first is some of us allow that shame to cripple our lives while others eventually confront their negative experience(s), make peace with what happened, and move on to live the life they were meant to live. The second is that some of us use our past traumas to benefit others while others leave those wounds to fester in our souls. I did both. I was very willing to offer my support to other wounded people one on one; but, I never truly dealt with my own wounds. Not a good thing.

On the surface, I functioned well within society. Other people valued me for what I could give them; but, I didn’t value myself. Whether anyone saw it or not, I’ve been a psychological mess for most of my life. While I don’t have a lot of material things to show for forty years of working, I’m college educated and I’ve always excelled professionally even when I didn’t think I did. As sad as it is to say, when you’ve convinced yourself you’re nothing you can’t see the “something” others know you are. If you’re anything like me, because of self-perception, you’re blind to the edifying moments that could change your life. Again, that’s a sad thing.

While I haven’t wrapped this post up the way I expected, I’m going to exit here. Sometimes introspection does more to heal than any words I can type. I’m going to leave it at that.

See you soon,  Calla 

I don’t know what I hit to cause this garbage down below; but, I can’t make it go away right now. I’ll figure it out eventually. In the meantime, I’m going to post anyway! Calla

T

Been There, Done That · Religious

Life Flows On….

Tori Lennox1 Comment

The nightmare is finally over. My Mom came home from Tennessee on Sunday night. She’s doing well. She went to see her doctor today and received a good report. Her blood pressure meds need to be adjusted since she’s lost twenty pounds since her accident; but, considering what she’s been through, that’s wonderful news.

While we’ve completed the renovations on Mom’s bedroom and bathroom, I still have to finish moving her personal belongings from her old room to her new room. After that’s done, I’ll cobble together my room from the “bomb” that hit the two rooms housing my belongings at the moment. Honestly, while it’s organized chaos, there are boxes and belongings everywhere! The living room looks pretty good all things considered. Mom’s old bedroom soon to become my new bedroom looks like a war zone. It wasn’t that bad until I was hit unexpectedly with yet another move that had to take place immediately. What would have taken me all day to do right had to be done in less than two hours! Life happens, you roll with it, and organized chaos degenerates to a nuclear blast.

However, that being said, I’ve had five weeks of fifteen to eighteen hour work days between my full time job, shifting rooms, and completing my part of the renovations. I’m done with that for now. I’ve decided to take my time and complete the rest of the job over the next couple of months. It just makes more sense now that the urgency is gone. Besides, my body’s cried, “Uncle” and I need to listen. The crazy pace can’t go on.

In the meantime, I’m going to relax a little, take my Mom to the gym, and resume writing these blogs. I’ve missed both the introspection and the sharing. While I’ve been gone for much too long; I never abandoned Calla’s Comments. Not really. I have too many things to say. I did choose to take a break at a time I wasn’t being read when life was totally overwhelming. I started a couple of blogs that were never finished so, my thoughts were with you if my pen wasn’t.

Now that I’m back, I’d like to thank everyone reading this. I hope my life helps you. That’s the whole point of the writing. The second thing I want to do is give credit where credit is due. I wouldn’t have made it through this traumatic period without my faith. I was largely alone and struggling to deal everything that happened. It was touch and go there with my Mom for a couple of weeks. She could have died at any time while I was over two hours away getting garbled information about what was happening to her. Fortunately, family was there; but, it wasn’t me since I had to work. That was the horrible part of it all. That I couldn’t be there.

When I felt I couldn’t take anymore, I handed the fear, exhaustion, and Rheumatoid off to God. That was the only way I could make it through the day. What I couldn’t handle, He could, and did. Every day throughout the day. No matter how I felt, I knew I wasn’t alone. God was with me. I felt His presence when I needed it most. When I cried out for answers, He gave them to me. When I faltered, He was with me. He gave me the strength to do what had to be done.

While I try to write these blogs so anyone embracing any belief system can get something out of them, every now and then I’m compelled to write with an overtly Christian slant. I won’t apologize for that. The personal relationship I have with God/Jesus/the Holy Spirit is the most valuable “possession” I own. I’ve worked hard to reach the point I am now. To believe I’m worthy to have God’s love. To have anyone’s love. That wasn’t His fault as I’ve already said in other places.

My self-perception was a result of my life up to the point I wrote Been There, Done That…Had The Smashed-Up Face To Prove It. That was the point where I chose to redefine myself to myself and I chose to do that as God sees me and not as I’ve always seen myself. That decision was the major turning point I’ve been building on ever since and maintaining that healthy self-image takes a close walking/talking relationship with my Creator. The one who loves me no matter who I am, what I think, and what’s been done to me.

I’ve said enough for today. Until next time,

Calla