The spirit is timeless...

 

Sparky says, "The things I put up with for you, Ma!"

I started this blog four years ago when I was 36... and I've now reached a milestone... four whole decades! The funny thing is, ever since my awakening, I've felt increasingly light and youthful in my spirit. As each day goes by, I feel younger inside, more buoyant. I see through physical things as if they are ethereal. I never knew things would turn out like they did so far in my life.

It's pretty cool that right at this turning point between 39 and 40, the age that is usually not eagerly celebrated, I'm pretty much jumping for joy. After 6 years of being very ill, too sick and agoraphobic to leave the house, my physical health has dramatically improved more than it ever has, and emotionally I feel more healed and grounded. This transformation has been slow... it started last year and has accelerated the most since this past spring and summer. I feel like throwing the biggest party ever to celebrate my greatly improved health, my independence, and the doors that are now wide open for me. Yay!

In lieu of birthday cake, this year I made a gluten free brownie with salted cashews... yum!

Sparky says, "Let's skip the hats and get to the brownie, Ma!"

 

M is a dear, and placidly accepts her birthday hat. She is so trusting and gentle.

Two goofballs... the small one I'm holding is one of the
 best thing that ever 'happened' to me. <3

Fine tuning Pandora

My younger sister on the violin and me at the piano last Christmas. I used
Instagram "toaster" to make the photo look vintage.

So today I was in the kitchen frying up some celery and onions to make a soup using our leftover Thanksgiving turkey, and I tuned into a Pandora Christmas station to get in a festive cooking mood. Because time by the stove is much more enjoyable when inspired by music. I was simmering the onions quite happily when all of a sudden, I found myself shocked at the lyrics of these Christmas songs. I suddenly found them to be offensive and depressing at the same time. How was it that I have listened to these songs my whole life and am only just now being turned off by them? I guess I didn't know any better back then, or I didn't really listen to them... they were just words.

But the message behind the words! "Away In a Manger," "Silent Night," "Hark the Herald Angel." Oohh, they give me the shivers. Why do people feel like they have to worship this man Jesus, when Jesus himself said that we are all equals, we are all gods... you wanna worship him then we should all worship ourselves because we all have the same glory. Jesus said, as I do, you will do even greater. He never asked us to worship him! Good grief. And this born again business. People think they have to "punch their ticket" by saying "the sinner's prayer" which will save them from hell. They ask Jesus into their heart when what Jesus is (love)... is our innate nature and always has been from the beginning. We don't need to perform a formality, and we don't need transformed into what we already are. Perhaps the "salvation" that people go on and on about is really an awakening to the realization that you already are complete, you are enough, you are love, there is no sin, no hell, no judgement, and that we are all deliciously One.

Oh, and this fear of God. He/she doesn't have it in for anyone. We are our own worst enemy. No one will ever judge us more than we judge own self. The hell they talk about in the Bible is something I have no fear of anymore. Burning forever would honestly be a relief compared to some of the things I have gone through here on earth. Some of us make our own hell here on earth that is far worse than the simple physical burning of the biblical hell. Going through abuse on several levels and going through the daily physical and mental torment of this illness and the way others relate to me while ill makes the biblical hell sound like cake. I have no fear of that hell. I laugh at it. Without out the existence of this place, we don't need salvation. Without salvation, I don't need to worship Jesus. And I bet he's saying, "Whew! Thanks, AJ, this worship business is being laid on too thick!" Oh, and this belief that we are sinners at heart. Really it's a depressing business. And it makes me angry because it makes good people cower, makes good people think they are unworthy, it can take a sensitive soul and weigh him or her down. Gives good people this idea that God wants them to tramp over top of people who hold different beliefs. Religion is a form of violence. It divides, it does not unite.

I have been hanging out with born again Christians since before I could speak. I was apparently  "born again" at age 3 in the shopping cart at the grocery store, so my mom said. I was singing "Jesus Loves Me" and was so carried away that I was sprouting tears of joy. Since I didn't recall that event, I asked Jesus into my heart for real at age 8, and each night afterward until I was assured that once was enough. I went to church three times a week, went with my brothers and sisters to a Christian school K-12, went to Bible College afterwards, went on mission trips, taught Sunday school to 3 year olds, read the Bible regularly... you get the picture.I have spent time in the Christian bubble, and lots of time out of the bubble. I didn't know how depressed and repressed I was until I let go of religion and became free from it. Looking back, I was so incredibly weighted down by Christianity. It makes me angry that people I love are blinded by religion and sit there glibly listening to these religious Christmas songs with a content smile on their face, while inside they are a pincushion poked full of lies that make them bleed internally. All these beautiful people laboring under illusions, feeling stuck under God's mighty thumb, scared of him but worshippin his mighty name. When they aren't really in the mood to worship, they are just scared of the pit of hell and want to try to be as holy as possible to appease God. Rubbish. It really makes me angry. I am sure I have a smidgen of residual anger there towards myself because I was part of the sheeple crowd for some time. I know what it is like to be afraid of shadows, and I don't appreciate these Christmas songs that lull people into thinking there is something holy about fear.

Pandora radio is great because you can thumbs-up or thumbs-down different songs on your station and fine tune it accordingly. I have been hovering over the thumbs button more than I have been hovering over the stove this morning, but I am calmer than I was. I am humming "Santa Baby" and Maggie is looking at me cross eyed trying to tell me I am off key. But hey, she must enjoy it because she is still staring at me and hasn't left the room.

The old falls away and life in a new town begins

A view of our new neighborhood.



A lot has happened in the last two months. We bought a house, and have officially moved out of our last apartment. This is our first experience as home owners! I have been on the go nonstop for the past four weeks, painting, scrubbing, up and down ladders, packing and unpacking, juggling movers and carpet cleaners, walking and biking around the new neighborhood, and entertaining my mother in law for a week at our new place the first week I moved in. Three days ago I took a break and sat down from all that work, and since then I basically haven't been able to get off the couch, LOL. I was running on adrenaline and reserve energy that really wasn't there for the taking for several weeks on end, and when I sat down, my body said: "You is not gonna get back up again soon, Missy." So I have been resting and recouping my energy since then. I have my feet up and I'm resting and enjoying the view out my window. 

 





View from our front lawn. The paved area is the historic Schuylkill River Rail Trail that runs the whole way to Philadelphia.



 

The atmosphere around here is vintage and old fashioned, perhaps because trains still run on the local railroad tracks here. The tracks run parallel with our front lawn, which is one reason why I initially liked this house. There's nothing like being transported back in time each time the train rumbles by and the whistle blows. I wondered if the train would wake me in the night, but it doesn't. In the evenings they mute the whistle. In the night, if I'm already awake,  I have to strain my senses and imagination when it goes by to actually realize if it went by or not. It goes by softly like a dream, unrecognizable only if you concentrate on it. Kind of like when you are in the country and you think you hear a train in the distance. But it's so faint you can barely tell if your ears are tricking you or not. I used to have this happen to me all the time. I would hear trains when there were no tracks around for miles. Kind of haunting, actually. But at night the whisper of the train is comforting, actually.

 

 

View from our front porch, taken through the living room window.

 

I was thinking about getting a porch swing to relax on in the evenings and watch the train go by. However, if I was jogging by on the public trail, I would not want some old timer settin' on their porch watching me huff and puff by. We have a side patio that is more private that I'll probably relax on, instead of the porch.

 

Maggie, on the other hand, has no compulsion about oogling the bikers and runners. She hangs out on the windowsills meowing up a storm when she hears the gravel underfoot of anyone approaching. I think she seriously believes that someone will eventually veer off the path, jog up to the porch to pet her, then continue on their merry way.  

 

 

 

Sunlight dappled rail trail.

 

I biked the trail once since we moved in. Once we get a dog, I'll walk with her on the trail. The trees haven't really turned colors here yet. Our neighbors Russ and Edith said that we are technically living in the mountains, and as such, it's 5 degrees colder here than in the town. Jaw drop. Where was I when this information was being disseminated? If I had known this, I might not have agreed to the house. Well, perhaps the scenic views will have to make up for this slight meteorological deficiency?

 

Sunlight drenched, late afternoon railroad crossing, which is a minute walk from our home.

 

Our new home is an hour and a half away from our family, while the apartment we used to live at was just five minutes away from my parents and most of my brothers and sisters. Karl and I have known for quite some time that we wanted and needed to move quite a distance away. First, Karl recently got a job transfer where he was commuting an hour from where we lived. This opened up the door for us to want to move, if only so Karl's commute wasn't as far. But more importantly than that, we knew we needed to get away from the toxicity of my family.  

 

I was on the phone with my mom a few weeks ago. I thought it would be a pleasant conversation. No harm in just talking, right? Somehow she managed to swing the conversation around to religion. This happens each time we talk, because she is a good citizen, conscientious and concerned about her daughter's eternal soul. If she didn't doggedly bring up religion each time, she would have a guilty conscious and would be berating herself until our next conversation.

 

Somehow the conversation zigzagged around my father, and how he was such a good man, a godly example. I said, "What about the way he abused me emotionally and physically?" Suddenly I was crying.

 

And just as suddenly, my mom morphed into a hard edge razor back. Suddenly, she was in her favorite role as protector of the patriarch. She said, "AJ! That is the devil speaking in you! Resist him. Stop letting the devil live in you and speak through you!" This is the second time she's told me there's a devil in me.

 

Yet I was speaking from a place of innocence. I was letting the young child in me speak without fear for the first time in her life. I stood up for her and let her say, "That hurt."

 

I have finally come to realize that being in contact with my family is like banging my head against a concrete wall, hoping the wall will reach out to hug me. It is a futile exercise in insanity. The wall is a wall and will never accept me.

 

It was helpful to live close to family the last few years because if I needed a ride to a doctor appointment or if I needed something when Karl was at work, I could call a family member. Even though not all outings were approved by the patriarch, some were. Now, however, we will be using a taxi for me when Karl is at work. It's OK. We are stepping out on our own, and if getting away from the toxicity means not having transportation, so be it. It is worth it!

 

I am glad we have distanced ourselves. Personally, I would rather be living as far away as Florida. But that wasn't in the cards for the present. For now, an hour and a half away is a world away. This is a time of new beginnings. I don't want to drag the past along with us into this new home. I don't want to muddy up the home with memories from long ago. The hurts have taken up too much space and energy in me, and now is a time to let it all go. The past was in my face while I lived back home, but now is a fresh start.

 

I want to live in the present moment in this new house. Karl and I have decided we aren't having conversations anymore over the dinner table or elsewhere about the family. We are also no longer communicating by phone, email, or social media with the family.   

 

Fall is a time of letting go of the old. As leaves start to drift off the trees, it feels right to start letting go of things, situations and people who no longer serve us. I know many people go through this stripping process without even knowing they are doing so in harmony with nature. I myself didn't realize this was happening until the other day when I was out on the trail. I was watching the wind whip a thousand crispy leaves up into the air and down, like synchronized confetti. Like they were following the invisible hand motions of a conductor, but in perfect free fall. Twisting, then lifting in wild abandon. Free. And completely, foolishly giddy about it. The leaves were having a blast being wild and free.

 

And suddenly I realized that I was free too. And I just couldn't wipe the grin off my face knowing so.

 

Give yourself permission to be exactly who you are!

Art © Moki  https://www.facebook.com/#!/RiversInTheOcean

  

"You may not be able to control what other people say or how they act, but you can always choose how you treat yourself. You can choose who you surround yourself with, and who you let go of. And no matter what your circumstances, you can choose to believe in yourself and your worth.

Because at the end of the day, trying to please everyone is exhausting and impossible. No matter how you change or who you become, there will always be someone who doesn’t approve. So instead of wasting your energy in a futile attempt to become someone that other people want you to be, give yourself permission to be exactly who you are. And know that who you are is exactly enough.

You don’t ever have to feel guilty about removing toxic people from your life. It doesn’t matter whether someone is a relative, romantic interest, employer, childhood friend, or a new acquaintance; you don’t have to make room for people who cause you pain or make you feel small. It’s one thing if a person owns up to their behavior and makes an effort to change. But if a person disregards your feelings, ignores your boundaries, and continues to treat you in a harmful way, they need to go.

The right people will find their way into your life. These are the people who will love and accept you wholeheartedly and without conditions. These are the people who matter. Let go of the rest."

~ Daniell Koepke

 

I discovered this article the other day and have been chewing on it for a week or so. I can tell the ideas here must have been sinking in because I found myself thinking about boundaries and the way I haven't felt safe lately on Facebook.

Recently, whenever I go to post something on FB, I have to stop myself and then never end up posting because I know that nothing I want to write these days will be acceptable to certain family members who will read it and judge me behind my back. I used to believe in the same religion as my family, so I didn’t have to watch my back as much in the past. But even then, I had to be careful about what photos I could put up. If my shorts or jeans were too tight, or if the photo looked too revealing, it would be scrutinized by my father who has access to my page through my mom’s account. Ugggh. I have always been so sick of the way he stares at my sisters and I, looking for immodesty so he can berate us in the name of God for it. I hated it back in the day when I lived on the homestead, and I’ve always hated knowing he was doing the same to me even as an adult on FB or at family functions. I put up with it on FB, just because I figured I had to. I also had to hide or restrict my postings on FB because a lot of my friends’ comments would have been considered lewd or unseemly to my family. My family would have assumed I was the same in associating with them, and they would have been keeping tabs on me, judging me and these friends. I hated having to restrict expressing myself, but somehow thought that as an obedient Christian daughter, this is what I had to do.

The last year or so though, I’ve shed a lot of my family’s toxic religious beliefs that I had believed for many years in the past without even thinking about it. I’ve become  interested in expressing this transformation with like minded friends. At this point in my life, my biggest social outlet is FB, and I’ve rubbed shoulders with  so many beautiful, amazing people who live outside the field of wrong and right. I’ve wanted to connect with them on FB in a public way, but have held myself back because I know my family would confront and shame me for doing so.   

There is this interesting belief that my family circulates about one of my sisters and I. Since both of us became ill with chronic fatigue, PTSD and adrenal burnout, my family members whisper to each other that God is judging us with this illness because of our sins. They say that God will continue to curse us with illness until we “get right with God.” They say they are on God’s side and they won’t help us out when we need help, as long as we remain stubborn and hardened against God. As if they know what it means to be right with God! They say we will never get our careers back and never lead a successful life until we ask forgiveness, get back under submission to God, and get back into the church. As if that is ever going to happen. Basically, my family is cursing me, and I’m supposed to take this bullying as my due. I’m supposed to back down and submit if I want their judgment to stop. What they are doing is tough love, God’s tough love. Their God is a bully who will rain bad luck on me until I relent to him and repent.

 

Well, I am long past that stage in my life. I don’t believe in a God like that. That kind of treatment is an insult to my soul, and I brush it clear off of me. My creator and I are one, and there is nothing I could ever do “wrong” in his/her eyes. I have nothing to be afraid of. I am simply infinitely loved.

 

And yet, I do not feel like I have the freedom to express this to my family. I have been treated like a black sheep and denied help in the past, but my confirming their suspicions would result in some kind of subtle social punishment for me. My mom might not be allowed to visit or call me anymore, and she might not be allowed to pick me up and drive me to appointments. My family would start praying for my repentance, and they would add me to the prayer list under the category “back slidden” at their church.  Family parties would be strained and weird.  I’m not sure I want to speak my truth to them yet. I don’t know if I’m ready yet, or if they are even ready yet to hear me speak. When the time is right, I will know.

But in the meantime, one thing I do know is that I don't like hiding who I am. I am ready to start taking steps towards my freedom. The other morning I woke up and sat up in bed and felt so angry. I had barely time to wake up and already I’m angry. I’ve recently started the habit of checking in with myself, asking myself how I feel. I’ve repressed my emotions so much in the past, that I’m rusty at this. So I check in now every half hour or more often, in the hopes that this will eventually become my natural way.

As I sat there, I felt myself saying, “I’m angry.”  So I asked myself, “Why are you angry?” And I heard myself say, “I’m angry because I am repressed. Here I sit in my own bed, in my own home, with my own comfortable blankets wrapped around me, and I feel unsafe like I can’t even express myself on my own Facebook Page. I am done with feeling like I have no voice!”

So in the next few days, I de-friended my family members, and instantly I felt lighter. I wrote about what happened on FB, and my online friends were so supportive. I love them all! Their spirits shine true in a way that I don’t pick up on with my family. I’m starting to see other areas in my life where I am still repressed. I can’t define yet what these areas are, as they are foggy. I think I have been so used to not having boundaries, that unhealthy boundaries still seem slightly normal to me. However, I have gotten a taste of freedom, and I want more.

 

 

 

 

 

Easter

Our patio, coffee and OJ on the table.

I'm not sure why I always want to press the fast forward button in life. Or why I don't want to talk about, accept and embrace what my reality is currently. Right now I'd like to be so much more mature, more loving, more harmonious, resolving situations wisely and lovingly, attracting peaceful situations. Right now I'd like to be living in the future, and if I'm still blogging then, I would like to report that I had a great Easter, that my family is harmonious and loving, and the day was warm and gorgeous. I'd have all these photos of us laughing, with me lively and strong. Or maybe I'd spend Easter elsewhere, picnicking outdoors at a park with a group of friends who are on my wavelength and are accepting, loving, peaceful, and full of the life. I don't quite want to report how Easter actually went. But this blog is of it's very nature honest. In the end, I do choose to be authentic, even if I want to project something beyond what I am.

 

So, I went to the homestead for Easter. It turned out pretty well. For the last year or so when I'd attempt to get in a car to head to the homestead, I would get weirded out and have this internal fight inside that would make me feel super anxious, dizzy and immobilized. I would end up crying hysterically and fighting nausea, and we would end up turning around and heading home, or we would go the whole way to the homestead and I would enter in the front door trembling and weak.
 

However, not this time. I rode along to the homestead with Thalia and Gloria, who was staying with us for the weekend. I feel safe with them, as we are each in tune with each other. It was so wonderful just hopping in the car with them, and not even having to think for a second about anything negative happening. It was like they were these warm, friendly buffers around me, and I felt natural and relaxed during the drive there. I was perfectly fine. Karl drove the two hours to his family's house for Easter. I would have went with him, except I'm not up for long trips yet.

 

I was impressed at how a few particular things turned out over Easter. Thalia had a long, engaging conversation with Clark. I was shocked. She was friendly and pleasant. He tried to bait both of us by bringing up a story of his one friend who was abused by a Christian father, and who turned in disgust from the Christian faith and embraced Buddhism, eventually becoming a Buddhist professor at some local college. Thalia didn't take the bait. She just ambled on in the conversation in a cordial manner. Later she told me that she felt empowered because she confronted him and spoke with him. She said she also felt sad for him because he was sending out low vibrations as to his negativity, his sense of worthlessness, and how he didn't think he'd ever get a good job. So she was trying to lay some groundwork in showing him that he is valuable and worthy.

 

We had an old fashioned ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, creamed corn, fried sweet potatoes, green beans and chicken corn soup. The normal Easter basics, but delicious. I tried everything and my taste buds were singing. It is still a treat for me to be able to go literally anywhere, to any one's house, and to eat whatever meal they serve. It's like the sky is the limit. I used to have food allergies for almost three years. I could eat only five safe foods every day for three years. I've been allergy free for almost 11 months now. It's like I was set free from a prison. It is still quite amazing to taste different foods.

Oooh. Change of topic. I wanted to share how I've been watching this series "Call the Midwife" Season 1 on Netflix recently. There's only one season though! Bugger! I am a sucker for authentic portrayals of the 1950's. This show was set during this time period in south London, so you get the awesome accents. The slang is quite unique, phrases like, "stepping out with a chap," or "She's packed him in," or "She's up to her arm pits in bother," or "It would be a gas."

I discovered this other series on Netflix, "McLeod's Daughters," a few months back. It is set in Australia, on this old sprawling ranch. The accents are full of texture, the slang is refreshing, and the scenery is breath taking. Even the birds sound different down under. The characters ride around on horses, shear sheep, fix windmills and herd cattle. Their hair is a mess, or just slapped back in pony tails, they don't bother with make up and they wear basic jeans and T's. The natural look is under rated. I started speaking slang after 11 seasons (or was it 9?) of this show... stuff like the standard "G'day, mate," to "good on you, mate," or "I stuffed up." One draw back though is that the series is basically a soap opera. I was able to get past this only because of gorgeous scenery, the horses and the accents. Have I mentioned that I'm planning on moving to Australia so I can live on a horse ranch and herd cattle, too? I imagine I could do the same here in the states, but it looks so much more appealing over there. Or maybe that's just because it's a TV show, so it probably seems more appealing there than it really is. Well, any excuse to travel is a good excuse.

 

Maggie as a kitten a few months ago, fully alert and ready to pounce.

On another note, I wanted to share how Maggie's been doing. She's been a changed cat lately. Since we started keeping her in the kitchen at nights, she has become a strong love bug to the first person who wakes up and lets her out of her "house." When I am the first person to free her, she is all purring and head butting me with her face with this intense cat love. Then she'll spend at least 10 minutes greeting me affectionately, letting me pet her. She's also jumping up on my lap more in the evenings, curling up in a ball and purring. This is new for her. I am honored, because her old routine for the last four months in the evenings was to come put a paw on my lap, meoww, turn around, and hop into Karl's lap, pretty much dissing me for the night in favor of him. But since she got fixed, she has become quite the different girl. She has this new habit of laying by the front door whenever any certain person in the house is missing. Apparently she does this when I go out on a walk. Karl says she lays waiting there until I come back. She did it when Karl first left to visit his family. After Gloria had stayed with us for a few days, Maggie decided that Gloria was a household member. When Gloria left yesterday, Maggie laid by the door for several hours, waiting for her to come back too.

 

Well, it's time for lunch. Will write more later.