self abandonment…

Did i even know this concept existed? Not until one day it was pointed out as my current state of abuse. Question… Why did i constantly feel so neglected, left out, left behind and forgotten? Answer… for self awareness sake, because i allowed it.

i had grown up more than feeling this enormous amount of depletion from others, but hadn’t a clue why until my behaviors reflected the broken, walking-wounded soul within. The scars keep reminding me of the battles i have faced while the wounds resurface with every lasting trace, but i need… someone

As a child i had no control over my own circumstances, nor did i add to the fault by simply being that good little girl, quiet and invisible. What did abandonment look like or worse, feel like? For me it looked like a scared, pathetic little person chasing after love, but never catching up to it. To not feel like i had any sense of belonging or inclusion of those who were supposed to love me unconditionally, devastation, solitude, isolation and shame, but i need… someone

How does this coincide with ditching myself? It goes hand in empty hand. i was taught to not call attention to my needs, no matter how loud my heart was screaming out. Ignore the emotional inner rampage building up inside and i can get through another agonizing day and lonely night. This is what all youngsters must go through and feel like, right? It must be, but i need… someone

Sure i’ll marry you and have three wonderful sons. At least then the pain of lonliness and abandonment will subside and i will finally have a purpose for my existence. Be the best mom and shower them with all the attention i never received or was worthy of. They deserve it, afterall, they need… me

Why am i angry all the time? i began to wonder, but couldn’t stop the rage. He is gone more than he is home. Drunk again. Leaving me alone. i recognize this. i know what to do, chase him. Prove to him i am worthy of his glory, his time, his presence, his love. Ah screw it, he is a lost cause. Focus on those three amazing sons. i won’t have to chase them down. Besides, they won’t run very far, they need… me

Alone, lost and frightened once again. What do i do? What should i do? Am i better off to accept what comes my way and swallow it whole to avoid the dreary pains of being left? This anger won’t leave me alone, that i can depend on. Enough was enough i decided one final day. It was within the midst of some toxic time with my confidant, that i gained the courage and strength to tell that man to leave. Sooo, it took an additional ten years of abuse and neglect, infidelity and lies, but i took the plunge. For the first time i realized, i need… me

i was immensely discontent and abandoned by all those who claimed to love me that it became normal to me. i learned from the best teachers how to pretend to live without my basic needs met. Oh i knew what i was missing because there was no greater hurt than to be by myself and wonder if anyone would ever truly love me just for me. One day i found a special place, a gathering of humans, other walking woundeds who graciously accepted me and all my brokenness, battle scars and all. They taught me self love, gave me a sense of self worth and offered me hope beyond my wildest imagination. They introduced me to a loving God who patiently waited at my heart’s door for me to open it and let Him in. Could it be? Is it possible that He needs… me? Because i came to believe, that i need… Him

Inline image 1

Confounded once more, did i do it to myself yet again? Unlearned lessons are destined to repeat themselves. Could this be why i feel like i’m on that familiar life raft, a lost little soul floating aimlessly at sea? i write these jumbled up thoughts to sort my wrong thinking out and to remember;

Evil thoughts always come back and will haunt me for life, “stop leaving me alone!” So i am beginning to manage them rather than the other way around. i am strengthened in You and i can do anything through You. i need… You 

i am worthy of love, honest, warm and true. i deserve time, attention and affection, not just for a moment or two, given to me freely not because i ask but simply because i am sacred not some fruitless task

i know in my heart that i sincerely need you, but i am learning that i need me too…    


I drove by your house today…

The house I have never known, just like the man sitting inside of it. My heart cried as I drove on by, I began to wonder if I had the right address. I stopped to confirm and as I turned around I knew. There was a certainty that came over me. I sat in the stillness, alone with my thoughts while they raced through my brain. Where were the memories of long ago? A connection, a sign that says “welcome, come on in”. What was I hoping to see, to find, to happen? I didn’t have the answers other than I am still that little girl chasing after you and waiting, hoping to be found. 

A tear streamed down one cheek as another fell right behind it. I may not have understood what I was doing, but I do know what I felt. Another reminder I continually search and long for a place where I belong. To seek comfort and rest, to finally call some place home. 

I wanted to scream as my insides dictated the remorse and sadness, “for a lifetime now, I have felt so fucked up because of your desertion!” But instead I sat there and stared at an unfamiliar little compound and wondered what I might behold behind that fence of steel, locked gate and closed-door. Warmth, safety, peace and joy? Did it really matter? I sat and lingered a few minutes more contemplating, but these hands wouldn’t open the door to the wall that it put up long ago. In that instant as the tears subsided, a hurt little girl wanted you to feel just an ounce of the pain that has inflicted me my whole life. That has misdirected my choices and pushed me to settle for things I believe I am only merely deserving of in this life.

As I allowed my thoughts to wander for what felt like sort of an eternity, the fantasy erected in my head. A version of life which I had been longing for. As the images washed over me like the fresh falling rain coming down, a loud honk from behind jolted me back into my current reality. There I sat, quietly in my car, imagining you peacefully in your chair, while I face the truth once more.

For once in my life, I desperately wanted you to hug me, to take away this heavy burden of shame I carry on my shoulders, to hear you tell me it’s not my fault, I love you and never meant to hurt you. More than anything I want to stop blaming you for who I am today because I know my character was built on it, but it doesn’t have to continue to define me. I need a sense of normalcy in my life, to stop behaving like that wounded, abandoned little girl more often than not. To stop believing there is something so fundamentally wrong with me that I constantly sabotage my own happiness. Please change my thinking so I can move past this and be free of self-doubt and replace it with self-confidence, that you never instilled in me.(blame and shame)

Instead I write my heart out and sometimes I cry in frustration. The little girl inside gets scared when she’s all alone or left straggling behind. Then she copes with her broken tools gathered over the years in hopes to rise above the deep-seated anger that surfaces at the most inopportune times. These are the unpleasantries that reveal the depths of my brokenness even I don’t like to see, nor show.

No longer do they serve this grown up lady I so desperately want to be. I pray God to bind them up and heal me whole for the woman buried deep inside of me.

I drove by your house today…

maybe next time I’ll find the courage to stop…

“it” aka love…

“it” made sense once

no longer is “it” in my capabilities to grasp

“it” made sense a little

anger emerged erasing components of comprehending “it”

“it” makes no sense at all

reasoning things out demolished my thinking of it” in absolutes

“it” isn’t supposed to make sense in the least

my ramblings onit” resemble scrambled brains inside my skull

can’t blame it” on the senselessness 

is “IT a precarious fucked up notion

in this very second

at this precise moment

on this all-consuming day

I still say

fuck no

“IT” is not!

“it” IS worth the time and effort

“it” IS worth the risk

“it” IS worth crossing over

I love you





the unequally yoked kitty and her former Sir…


A kitty’s self-worth has been on trial for some time now. The defendant found guilty of constantly proving her right to be in the presence of the one she loved. Persecuted and condemned for falling short. Then humiliated, shamed, rejected and disciplined for not doing better. The daunting tasks of living up to high, unobtainable expectations placed upon her were more clear from the drive behind them. Somehow the plaintiff’s own bad behavior was supposed to be condoned according to her former Sir.

Galatians 5:19

  • The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Perhaps in your mind it gave you permission to string this kitty along by keeping her guessing and wondering what was wrong with her. The lie is, she wasn’t everything you ever needed. The truth is, she was more than you ever deserved. Where was your trial, condemnation and judgement? I have the easy answer to these, they didn’t exist. I never had a judgement police uniform on that gave me the right to convict you of wrongdoings. Why? Because my offerings came with unconditional love. Now I ask, where is your salvation and redemption? Do you know who your Redeemer is? “So sad, poor thing”…

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

  •  Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

All the gains from this treacherous world amount to nothing if you are not seeking the One that holds the treasures and blessings to an abundant and wholesome life of fulfillment. Because you subscribe to the manosphere’s insidious notions to “fuck as much pussy as possible”, your fate and destiny have been sealed for making a pact with the evil one.

1 John 2:15-17

  • Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in them. For everything in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever.

Aside from the fact that is the behavior and mentality of a 20 or even 30-year-old,  at your age doll, you pretty well created the recipe for alone~ness. You WILL end up being that man sitting at what once was our table at the Hong Kong, by yourself. You had every part of me from the beginning to the end. The problem was, you were too terrified of falling under the trap of oneitis and that trance kept you from the best thing that could have ever happened to you and for you. “So sad, poor thing”…

Galatians 5:22

  • But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.  Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.

the good book

B (asic) I (nstructions) B (efore) L (eaving) E (arth)

have I ever used the word fuck so much…

broken heart

My heart has felt pain before. It has been torn and shredded to a state of which I imagined restoration wasn’t possible. I was proven wrong when I cried out to The Lord, “Please take this from me!” He didn’t allow the suffering to continue, but instead a new understanding arose in that, God never does anything TO me, but rather FOR me. Out of the ashes, beauty remains, always. I am certain this time, if a contest were held, I would take the biggest prize for the most beautifully erected creature that was birthed from such ashes.

The intensity that comes from a broken heart can feel unbearable. Self created illusions that dilute reality of what is, can be the largest form of self-destruction. When ill intent is placed upon one person in a relationship and was defined by that one, it leaves the other to sit and wonder in uncertainty and the damage is irreversible. Only by the miracle of His Holiness can the healing happen. 

What the fuck is this girl talking about? Do specifics even matter when a heartache is mentioned? It is a universal feeling where most breathing humans can nod in agreement without needing details of what encounters took place. I am not in the business of smearing my personal agony of defeat for public knowledge, but if I talk around it enough, you get the idea, my fucking heart is screaming out in pain!

Was He “interested in hurting me”? (God, I am sick of hearing that) He is quick to respond, “No.” My quicker response is, “Then stop!” Too late. Lying by omission, I am pretty damn sure in the eyes of The Lord, is still lying. Punishable? Condemnation? Convicted? Not likely, because God is in the business of forgiving. He knows the story from the end to the beginning, He is not surprised by any of this, so couldn’t You have clued me in sooner? God, You always have my heart and soul. Did I not listen to You? Miss the signs and subtle clues? Ignore my natural instincts? The correct answer to all is, YES! I put my trust in You Lord and have never been let down. I did however, give complete control over to flesh, giving him the power to destroy and he did. 

I have prayed repeatedly, I believe and declare, You sent this man to me, broken in the start and need of some repair. My promise I gave was, I would never give up on him. Devotion and honor, I stood on Your word as You held me high, assuring me I would not fall. Guess what? The ground underneath is rough and brittle with jagged rocks all around. It hurt when I fell, was dragged for miles and didn’t have enough presence of mind to let go long ago the way he did. I held on so tightly to what I thought was true. Dedicated, honest and loving You reminded me to be. Willingly obedient was what I became, now look where I stand, crumbled. I may be knocked down, but I am not down forever.

Where was the commitment I am deserving of? The love that was shown through actions fell short and is clearly nonexistent in my eyes now. Did I imagine all his glorious wondrous things that were delivered to me? Without a doubt, they occurred, but with an attachment of my own self creation only. Do I make clear that I want what I want? Absolutely and to my own detriment I have been told time and time again. I am first a child of God. I have royalty in my DNA and am entitled to be treated as such, with loving kindness and nothing short of that. So why the fuck would I settle for less?

I apologized to God in advance for using such profanity and proclaiming His name and promises together in this painful rant. He has already forgiven me and I praise Him for that.

Where in the hell is all of this going? I have no fucking idea, because at this point I feel directionless, lost and confused as fuck. Hurt and angry along with a whole gamut of feelings. The list goes on as does the rant. It is as relentless as the verbal attacks that have challenged my self value. Apparently my conscious choice of living in denial has served no other purpose but to do its one and only mission, to bite me in the ass yet again.

It has long been my experience that in order to walk away from something that I want more than anything in this world, I have to be this devastated and then angry before I can change the behavior. No shit! That is the equivalence to hitting the bottom of a rock hard surface where landing on my ass hurts less than the actual act of letting go of the rope.

In asking him the question a multitude of times, “Why did you keep me around so long???” I was met with what I would like to believe were honest and heartfelt, however generic responses. Can you elaborate on and define what “feelings” mean to you, because I am quite certain our interpretations are very different. Is it because the female rationale verses the male directive clouds this area every time? You know I loathe more than anything to be grouped as, “all girls think that way, behave and react that way”. No, I am a uniquely made lady that my Creator molded perfect in His image. I will say the same of you, if you ask me.

Did I just brake hard, turn right and flip a B in the middle here? Yes, I believe I did. Bear with me, it is exactly how my fucked up brain is operating right now. The system is on overload, while the heart and head have entered the battle zone awaiting for the war to end. The, what feels like a ten foot drop between the two, cannot ever agree what is best for me. They often leave me to my own devices to figure the muddled mess out. When that rarely works out to my advantage, I stop, drop and pray. This time, it is more like run, drag and scream. However it comes out, The Divine One hears my cries.

Is there a fucking end to this rant? I don’t know. Is there an end to this excruciating heartache? That is the question of the hour, as well as the past 24 and likely what may feel like an eternity. Praise God there is no time limit on how quickly or slowly I vomit this crap out of my brain until it is out. The ultimate goal is just that, to relieve myself of every ounce of the toxic thoughts swarming around inside telling me lie upon lie. “Get the fuck out” is what I shout, yet here they are. Planted by a cruel person from the past and dredged up by feelings of defeat from the present day.

I chose not to direct one ill word to or about the person from which this is all derived from. Out of absolute respect on the one hand, but on the other hand, because I too have a part in this. I am still examining what that is exactly and so far what I have come up with is, I was a willing participant. As much as I want to call bullshit on his part where he is justifying, that isn’t up to me. Does it affect me? More than words can say. I made an investment with my whole self, both feet, look heart, no hands style. Regret? Remorse? Revolt? Retaliate? Not who I am today.

I am guilty of love, tried and convicted, nothing more, nothing less. So fuck me for caring, needing and wanting you all to myself.

                   We are where we are, broken and undone

I loved You then and I love You still

I love you now and I always will…


forgiveness is love…


I am finding no matter how I pray this simple prayer, “Lord, please undo what I have done”, He doesn’t make it go away. Even God, Who is still on the throne, cannot wrong a right. He will however, forgive me and grant me mercy so I can live with the grace to keep on keepin’ on.

The message I hear is, “Child I created you of human flesh. You will always let your brother or sister down here and there, but look for the lesson as you weather the storm.  This is merely a season to endure and I will see you through this too. This is not happening to you, but rather for you”.

I close my eyes as a tear runs down my cheek. With tear-stained eyes, I want to trust in what I believe, have faith in what I cannot see, the courage and strength to accept that I am right where I belong.

Life certainly has bizarre twists in its presence of uncertainty. The unknown is something I once feared, but today I embrace the obstacles and challenges that lurk around every corner. These are the moments I draw closer to You and my trust grows. If I supply the willingness, You will always supply the power. 

As I look out through the windshield of my life, I can almost see the grand design for me as I discover the next miracle that awaits my participation. Maybe tonight I will not pray to The Lord to undo what I have done, but rather ask Him to show me how to do better moving forward.  

Forgiveness is a selfless act that requires nothing more than a heart that has been injected with love. It frees the one from the anger they have shackled their-selves to. If my Heavenly Father can forgive my transgressions and love me anyway, then I know that I am deserving.

lifes too short

What is found in the bottom of that bottle…


forty-eight hours till You return to me

Sir You’ve been gone far too long

my heart aches and longs to be free

how much tequila is too much

tonight there is not enough

to keep my anxiety at bay and such

You’ve not been able to reach out

fear has me crossed beyond the line

Your kitty can only scream and shout

praying everything is okay

it’s been twenty-four hours since I last heard from You

feels so much longer than a day

I miss You so

I can barely manage these last hours

drowning my sorrows is how I choose to go

stupid and jumbled

these words I divulge

make little sense because they are mumbled

what do I care

Your kitty just needs You

Sir I wanted to share

our bottle of tequila

I can’t see the bottom

only want to see you


My reflection as I glance back…


This month I celebrate ten years of emotional sobriety. A triumph I had never allowed myself to dream of. It’s because of my struggles that I began to grow up when I finally learned to do it differently.

“Choices” noun~ “a range of  possibilities”~
I never knew I had these in my possession. As a child I watched both my mom and grandma endure the obstacles life handed them. The message I received while observing them was, we are all dealt a set of cards and to accept them with grace. This is ones lot in life, make it work. There was no opportunity to lay a card down, ask the dealer to hit me and hope for a better hand. So, life continued to happen.
While others were seemingly happy, I was constantly trying to figure out where I fit in. I certainly wasn’t an outcast, a geek, homely or even, God forbid, a cheerleader. (no offense to any of the aforementioned, just painting a visual of self) I simply lived a day-to-day existence.
Home was a typical string of dysfunctional events. This was excruciatingly normal to me, but still I hid behind my four walls of shame. It was safer than explaining to friends why mom was always drunk and the creepy stepfather just seemed inappropriate with his leering ways and oh so subtle innuendos. I did well in school by my standards, but far from it for that stepfather. I had friends at school and stayed away from home as much as possible by getting a job as soon as I was old enough. I began counting the days until I could move far away from these crazy people who made my life miserable.
Then the day was here, one month before I graduated from high school. Ironically  it was Mother’s Day weekend, I picked a card from my deck, packed my things and left my home. It hurt my mom, this I know, but at seventeen my pain was more important to me than she was. After all, she constantly “chose” that man over her children for twelve years. That resentment laid the weakest foundation for an already broken, wounded, young lady.
With holes in my heart and no direction of what to do with my life, again I pulled a card from my hand and played it into the next chapter of what was finally my own life. I tried to break up with my high school boyfriend, but instead I succumbed to peer pressure and stayed in that abusive relationship for two more years. Alas, my white knight did come to rescue me. I could escape the evil that I’d suffered with for so long.
The cards were dealt, what else could I do? So I accepted things as they came, just as my first two teachers taught me. At least this guy appeared to be a man. He didn’t hurt me and I could ignore his occasional pot smoking, snorting of some white substance accompanied by a 40 ounce. Deep down I knew he’d quit, for me.
Denial kept me safe, so I just ignored my reality. If I didn’t look at it, it wasn’t real.
Three years later we were married and within six years we had three beautiful sons. They became my reason for living while their father climbed farther into the bottle. By then I had turned over my third card in my hand of five. I held tightly to my last two for fear of losing everything. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. My course was set, but I lacked the willingness to participate in this thing called life. Still in survival mode, my sons were growing up so fast and I was missing it. My focus remained on the insanity which came with the alcoholism I married into. I couldn’t help but hover over my children. I was hell-bent on protecting them, unlike what my own mom allowed, they weren’t going to know pain. Oh but they did. I was not that protector I set out to be.
Sixteen years later, I was forced to play card number four, only this time it felt different. When my sons father bottomed out, so it’s said, I already had both feet out the door. I had finally found that place I had been seeking for a lifetime. I felt a sense of belonging from the first time I walked through the door. The spiritual rooms of recovery, “for those who’s lives had been affected by others addictions”. It became my safe haven where I found hope, peace and serenity. That was the day I heard for the very first time, “you have a choice”! I laid card number five on the table and never again picked up a new deck. Instead I chose to live one day at a time.
This reflection comes every year at this time as not only my belly button birthday approaches, but my serenity birthday as well. Today my life is filled with blessings from my obstacles I’ve walked through. I have gone from not feeling worthy of love, to learning how to give and receive it. My expectations ride on low while my gratitude is on high. Regret and remorse are no longer welcome. Anger has been replaced by detaching with love. Courage gives me strength and hope gives me breath. Each day brings a new beginning. I cherish every moment as I string them all together in this new-found way of being, I now call life! I welcome myself to mine…

The clubhouse…

little rascals there’s something to be said for this…

I don’t know what it was when I was little, but all I ever wanted to do was play like the boys. Maybe because I had two brothers. Perhaps I secretly wanted to know what made them tick or how they were wired. I was not a tomboy by any means, but I could toss the football, throw a baseball, played a mean fullback in soccer and raced on the swim team. All the while playing barbies, wearing dresses, not by choice, dabbled in makeup and wore mama’s high, high heels around the house.

At that young age, the boys tolerated me because they were my big brother’s friends. Then sometime in junior high boys started acting mean to me. Not all of them mind you, but the ones that obviously “liked” me. That’s the message I was told when one, Kevin something or other, left a stuffed animal (raccoon, I believe) on my doorstep and when I returned it to him, because I liked Gilbert, something or other, he punched me in the eye. I think that meant he wanted to marry me!

What was happening to me, I began to wonder. I watched my only three female role models, whom I loved and adored, (mom, aunt and grandma) interact with the men in their lives. I took mental notes and kept them etched on my brain as I grew up.

Mom was a beautiful teenager when she had my big brother and me. She even married dad, then divorced him when I was two. (abandonment issues begin) Grandma was a loving, doting wife. I wouldn’t classify her as feminist, but she teetered on the brink of it. Then there was my aunt, whom back then referred to themselves as stewardesses, a waitress in the sky. She took pride in her, “coffee, tea or me” oozing with sex attitude, but to you men, don’t you dare cross her! I think she is on her fourth marriage today, but who’s counting?

So what was this young girl to do? I looked to these three beautiful women and entered into my teenage years, loved by them all yet untrained and floundering. See, by 7 mom had remarried the asshole of the year, decade, no, lets just make that the century and call it good. By 10, they had a beautiful baby boy, a new little brother whom I absolutely love.  Who knew my mom’s drinking would become an addiction by my 13th birthday and I would continue to grow up learning, through observation and media dictation, about expectations on growing up female.

Next that left grandma for me to continue observing with a watchful eye. I adored my grandpa and thought they were the epitome of love and commitment. They’ve been gone awhile now, but I still hold that vision close to my heart. That may not be the reality, but who am I to mess with it. I’ll leave it where it is, framed in a golden heart forever.

So by now my aunt appears to be the coolest chick on the planet to any young teen girl. How could she not? She was what all the magazines and t.v. commercials told me I needed to resemble and since I had my very own live Barbie doll with an attitude to look up to, that’s just what I did.

Back to my mom for a moment. I loved her with all my heart. We were as close as any mother and daughter could be, until that abusive man continued to ruin the most beautiful lady I had ever known. Today I can look back and sort of realize his frustration with her alcoholism, but I truly loathe that man, so no compassion goes to him. Mom only lived until the age of 41. The year that followed was the most difficult year of my life. That story is another blog all in itself. One worth taking my time on…

By the time I was 20, I met the “man” I would marry, have three sons with and seven years ago, happily divorce. Yes, I quit trying to hang out in the boys clubhouse long before that, but I still tried to figure out their hard wiring. Because of my own fucked up messages from my childhood and lack of direction on how to be a lady, wife or straight up female, I had to wing it. Sex was my best tool and the only means possible, so I thought, to entice and keep a man. Who knew they would come and go as they please regardless. Huh…

Some would say I was blessed with a “pretty face” and a decent body, that I literally work my ass off for today. After all, that is what society has always told me, that the only thing that mattered was how the garden looked, not how rich the soil is.

The message yet again, I didn’t need to work hard, get a higher education and be self-supporting, so I could boost my own confidence and self-esteem. A man would be all I needed to do that for me. That was the hardest, bluest pill = (blissful ignorance of illusion) I ever swallowed.

I was always caught between wanting an alpha and being cursed with a beta. Problem was, I didn’t recognize it when they were served up on a piping hot platter of  bullshit and false bravado. They were all the same to me. One day I thought, maybe it was the broken parts of me all along. This is not a self-pity thing, more of facing my own reality checkpoint. How much of my upbringing and misguided learning had I brought to the table in my relationships loaded with expectations that when they weren’t met, I would raise the bar. How many hoops will he jump through? Gross, revolt, YUK!! REBUKE!!

This epiphany did not emerge over night. It took several flushes of the blue pill and many refills of the red pill = (embracing the sometimes painful truth of reality) to embark on this beautiful transformation I have willingly entered into. I thank God for recovery of self discovery. I have learned about the true nature of submission, obedience and respect. The gifts that dove tail are adoration, honor and love.

Sometimes there is just a lot inside this girly brain when she has two claws on the wheel and two dug into the ground and the only way to climb back down is to rant!

no girls... there’s a reason for this sign…RESPECT IT!