I have so much going on, starting my little business, moving from a big house in the country into a tiny home on wheels so I can not only live within my means but also save up money to maybe by a small house in a few years. This big house has been the longest stretch in one home I've ever had, 10 years, 10 long painful years. This house is where my mother died, this house is where I made my last-ditch effort to win her love. However, this house is also where I cried out to God to save me, and He did. For that reason alone, it was all worth it. For God, I would do it all again. Speaking of God (don't I always?), Friday was a doozy. It's raining here, it never rains here. I got to work on Friday, still semi dark because of the rain. I'm waiting for this guy to cross the street with his kids, he's not crossing. There is a spot behind me, I can easily parallel into. I look, I put it in reverse, I'm looking and I just hardly take my foot off the break and some lady yells a string of curse words and slams her fists on my trunk. I'm puzzled. First, why on earth did she walk so closely to my car that was stopped with reverse lights on in the middle of the road, with no cross walk, in the rain, wearing all black? Secondly, I may have rolled an inch backward as my foot was still resting on the break, so why the dramatic cussing and hitting my car? But then she proceeds to come to the passenger window banging form me to roll it down, I roll it down, taking a nice deep breath. She is cussing up a storm, calling me every name possible. I've already prayed for Jesus to be with me earlier that morning, so I'm prepared. I say "ma'am, I am sorry, I was looking and I did not see you", she continues to spew garbage at me and I'm just staring at her in disbelief. I tell her again, and again "I am sorry, I did not see you, you are wearing all black, in the rain". I apologized many times, she is still screaming, calling me names, screaming that it doesn't matter that it's raining or what she is wearing, repeating that I could have run over a kid. But I didn't run over anyone. I didn't hit her, technically she hit me. My blood is boiling at this point, but I live for Jesus, so I continue to humble myself before her and just say sorry. Finally, she walks away and I park where my car is visible to the public should she comes back to slash my tires. I get into work, and I immediately burst into tears. I am so upset. I am beyond upset; I am shooketh. See, the bible does not say Jesus will take away our anger, but Jesus will through His Holy Spirit give us the power to overcome. That power only comes through obedience, dying to our flesh, and not giving in to sinful anger. Ephesians 4:31-32. I overcame the desire to get out of my car and do awful things to that woman. Before I knew God, I would have jumped at the opportunity to unleash my pain on some bully's face. I never went looking for trouble, but when trouble came knocking it usually was surprised to find that someone so kind and gentle could flip a switch and become absolutely vicious. Admittedly, the punishment was typically far greater than the crime, but in my flesh, I rationalized it, don't come looking for a fight if you don't want to actually get down and fight. I digress, so here I am in tears. I overcame my desire to knock this woman into next year, but I'm not doing a good job with the fight hormones coursing through my body. There is a move, "Night at the Museum", a tiny man talks about how hard it is to be tiny and angry, he calls it "impotent rage", and I feel like I relate to this when it comes to those "fight hormones". I have to pray. I pray and I ask God please Lord, calm my body down, calm my heart down. I thank Jesus for being with me, for seeing me through it, for helping me overcome my own fleshly desire, for giving me strength. I am feeling no conviction, but only edification that I am growing in Christ, and these fruits were not filled with rot and worms. God is good, all the time, and I love Him so very much. 

Blog Post 11/17/2025

Work was good. No unhinged women screamed filth at me, not even once! I even had a little slice of pumpkin pie that was set out for staff while on my break. It rained all day; I've missed the rain. I've missed it so much more than I thought. I guess I've missed being up north as a whole. My youngest son has zero desire whatsoever to move back to Oregon. He has now been here in California for the majority of his life and doesn't remember much about Oregon. For obvious reasons. Our last two years there were so full of trauma. My surprise divorce, and just 8 months later the passing of my sister. Oregon was actually traumatic the entire time I lived there, horrible things happened to me there. The weather though...so good! I have no choice but to go west 2 hours and try coastal living when the time is right. A cute, little, tiny home a few blocks from the beach would be great! It would also be all I can afford, but I do love those little homes in the 55 and up communities! That's my goal, anyway. 

I got off work and it was pouring rain. I called my best friend who is a sister at church to see how she was doing and if she needed anything since she has been down with the flu. Orange juice. Cool, I'm headed to drop some books off at the library and there is a grocery next door. I'm driving now knowing the totality of my after-work mission before heading home and for some reason my daddy pops into my head. I miss him. I miss him terribly. Tears are streaming down my face and I'm praying, "Heavenly Father, forgive me for not taking better care of my daddy". It's not that I didn't love my dad. I loved him very much. Sometimes it was difficult for me to communicate with him. He was rather pushy at times, though not mean. He didn't understand the issues I'd had since childhood. He didn't understand what or why I had such awful anxiety and depression. He didn't understand why I would not know how to answer what he felt were really simple questions. It overwhelmed me that he would ask me a million questions about myself, and others. He didn't get it. He'd keep pushing until I just couldn't handle the pressure and I would just freak out and hang up, or leave, or whatever to get away from him. Truth is, my mother took every ounce of everything I had in me. I had so much CPTSD dealing with my mother that there was nothing left for my dad. It is something that I struggle with still. My mother got the very best of me up until her last breath, and my daddy got very little, I have to live with that and it's hard. When I start to go down that particular rabbit hole, I have to just stop, take a breath and pray on it. What I went through to get to where I needed to be to reach out to God, I can and would never take back. I had to suffer through my mother to the point of brokenness. When my daddy got really sick, I was still brand new in my relationship with Jesus and still healing from the death of my mother and all things to do with her (devouring mother with a heavy dose of malignant narcissism) and the reality-shattering fact that she died before I could "earn" her love, then there is the realization that she basically programed me from birth to seek her love and approval by giving her all of my love and approval, and withholding love and approval from me.  As far as my mother was concerned, I was created to love her, not be loved by her. The exact opposite of what most parents feel about their children. Thank you, Jesus, for my new identity! God Almighty is my true creator, and He created me out of love, to be loved by Him and to love Him. Hallelujah! Fortunately, my mother was a good example of what not to do with children and that generational curse never attached itself to me. Though, there were others, but that's for another time. Today, I just missed my daddy a lot. Today, feel the pain of the past. I have to just pray it out to Jesus and let Him heal those rabbit holes of impossible regret.