Blog
September 30, 2025
Another thing I'll never understand is why certain things end up on the internet. Why we, as a society, think some of it is okay to post and admit to publicly. Aside from the whole dancing on graves we saw the mentally ill people doing over Charlie Kirk's assassination recently, there's a whole slew of other things. And you're saying, "But, Jen, this blog..." No one's reading it and no one ever will. I'll never be famous and this isn't TikTok.
But, take for instance, fail videos. Some of them are just regular people falling over or whatever. I watch plenty and some of them are just unfortunate accidents. It's the ones where the person in the video was recording for possible upload, does something incredibly dangerous or stupid or humiliating, and there I am watching it. WHY DID YOU UPLOAD THAT? lol
Or posts where you, with your full chest, speak to a subject you know nothing about as evidenced by the fact that what you're saying is VERIFIABLY INCORRECT. Do your research! I get that you're trying to spin a narrative but if you do it with false info, you just look stupid.
Or the ones where women get online and put their husband on blast in front of thousands or even millions of people. They trash him seven ways from Sunday and then can't understand where the divorce came from. Honey, you legitimately disrespected your husband IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE WORLD. Or the women who are either complaining that men won't hit on them anymore or complaining that a man hit on them. Y'all need to put your heads together, have a little powwow, and decide what you want the menfolk to be doing. Like, for real. Stop with the whiplash.
And then there's a new kind of stupid that I am now seeing. Where people do absolutely the worst things possible and then tell on themselves. Like a parent who allows their child to be a menace at a 5 star restaurant and thinks it's funny to talk about how frustrated everyone was that it ruined the experience.
Or, more recently, a woman talking about taking her family, including a 7 month old, on a plane to Disney. WITH A STOMACH VIRUS SHE KNEW THEY ALL HAD.
Sorry, not sorry, but WHY IS THIS A THING YOU PUT ON THE INTERNET???
Not only are you the world's worst mother -- take your infant to the doctor, not Disney! -- but you just put your entire family on the internet over this. Anyone who knows you or your husband, your siblings, parents, etc. They all are now getting hate because you decided to tell the internet you decided to go to Disney and chance infecting HUNDREDS if not THOUSANDS of people. Viral terrorism, that is.
What are we doing? Freedom of speech is a thing, but some stuff we don't need to see or hear and some people ought to be jailed.
September 29, 2025
I really will NEVER understand how the medical profession treats women.
They tell you that your internal organs, the ones specific to women, don't have that many nerve endings and then proceed to traumatize you with the most excruciating pain.
They tell them things are all in their heads and then suddenly, something that could have been treated for YEARS is now terminal. And the woman is dying. Or the little girl has a massive cardiac arrest and leaves behind her entire family.
I will always tell women who are dealing with symptoms or being told it's in their head that they should NOT ignore their intuition. You know your own body. You know something is wrong. If they tell you that it's all in your head, please please go and find someone who will listen. No matter how many times you have to go and look for someone new.
There are so many things out there that are still unknown. The fact a doctor can see a woman in pain and tell her it's all in her head is ASININE. SHAME ON YOU.
Rest in peace, Dylan.
September 27, 2025
God fulfilled a longing I have had my entire life. Decades of wishing I had a loving family who cared about me and wanted me there with them.
Kinda crazy when the family you've married into treats you better than the family you were born into. I had no idea what it was like to be welcome and wanted as an adult in a family setting. Being no contact with my mother has led to me losing 99% of my family on that side. Being in low contact with my father simply because I don't really matter to that side of the family much and actions have proven this time and time again over the years. So this? Where everyone loves each other, talks to each other, has fun and laughs with each other, and makes sure everyone (including me) is, well, included? It's pretty new. I don't always know how to respond. But then, something crazy will happen, like we'll all be out at dinner at the German restaurant and sing with the accordion player together or we'll be at a neighborhood party and someone drops a beer that sprays all over my ankles. And it's just family and good times. We get together for game nights on the regular or just chill in the backyard and talk under the stars. When they all drove from Texas to Tennessee, even the grandparents in their 80s, to visit with us, I knew I wanted to be a part of what they had. And then we moved here to be close to them and it's even better. Because I am part of it. People actually like me and want me around. I'm not forgotten or shunned.
People ultimately do what they want to do. They include me even though they don't have to. I feel loved.
God is good.
September 26, 2025
Peter put his life on the line, demanding a miracle as proof when Jesus identified Himself. Like a Good Shepherd, Jesus made sure the dumb sheep didn't die for his rash decision to step out of a boat onto water.
Jesus didn't reprimand the men who stayed in the boat, He reprimanded Peter. Not because he was human and got distracted by the waves and danger around him. No, because he doubted Jesus was who He said He was. And chose to test Jesus by putting himself into harm's way, requiring a miracle.
Not only was it a dumb sheep move, it was kind of arrogant and very impatient too. Nevertheless, Peter was beloved and chosen by Jesus. His incredible God-given purpose, in spite of his dumb sheep moves, are what make him relatable to me.
September 25, 2025
Happy Birthday, to the love of my life. My dragon and my favorite person in the world. You have been an inspiration and I am so proud of you. I am so grateful to get to bear witness to your life and be a part of it with all of the love and laughter. Life is so good because of you and I look forward to seeing what the coming years hold for you and for us together. To another year (and many more to come) of wins and dreams coming true. I love you.
September 24, 2025
You know Texas has you when it's 82°F with a slight breeze and it feels chilly. The weather here has been so beautiful the past week and I feel very blessed to be able to sit out on our back porch and watch the gorgeous clouds drift through the sky.
September 23, 2025
It really is to God's credit that He never allowed me access to the auto-destruct on this world we're living in.
I was reminded earlier that we had a taste of the sickness that is on the left side of politics a couple months ago. They paraded their disgusting mindset before when Texas faced some serious flooding and about 23 little girls were swept away from a Christian camp. They celebrated then and said the babies deserved to die because of how their parents had voted. And most of the country let it slide because it was just a few girls in Texas. Some of us were genuinely angry over that but I didn't realize that it was a tiny blip on the radar representing a seriously much larger issue of vile sickness on the left. Then came the assassination of a conservative Christian man, something I accidentally witnessed because people were foul enough to upload the actual video of it happening onto social media. It's since been taken down, I believe, but they danced and cheered and sang and wrote posts gleefully celebrating. I don't really need to reiterate. I already talked about it. It just really got under my skin to realize how vile some people are. To openly celebrate murder and tragedy.
Oh, but where was I when a school was shot up?
NOT CELEBRATING, YOU SICKO.
What do I have to say about the hatred and bigotry that Charlie spewed? Nothing, because he didn't. But you can continue to base all of your reasoning off of sound bites and clips rather than the entire contextualized narrative. That just makes you a slave to your emotions and the media you consume rather than being someone who can think critically, do research, and learn facts. I guess it's just easier to be angry all the time. It's something to do anyway. You're so bored. I know. Get offline. Go touch some grass.
September 22, 2025
I don't know.
September 20, 2025
I was thinking about things to do with the narcissists that I know. The female ones anyway. And particularly my mother. All of the female ones I've ever known have been in MLMs. Which is odd and, if I cared, I'd try to figure out the common denominator there. I don't really care. It's just an interesting fact.
Then there's my mom who claimed ADD (before it was normalized as ADHD). Her fragile ego could not handle being seen to make mistakes or realizing she'd been rude. So she got herself diagnosed with ADD (after doing her, I think, Bachelor's or Master's thesis on it). Every time she did something that was a mistake or said something that was rude, she could claim she was ADD. Distracted and impulsive. Bases covered.
And when I was thinking on that, I remembered a weird thing that I hadn't thought about in a long time. I had been living in a transitional home and she would visit me periodically. She'd take me to WalMart and to lunch. We'd shop and talk. One day, we went to the delicious Chinese food place and I proposed the idea of Alex coming to visit for Thanksgiving. I wanted her to meet this guy who had become my best friend. I was head over heels for him already even though neither of us had admitted to feelings beyond very strong friendship (Back then he claimed we were two sides of the same coin. I should've known hee). She seemed fine with the idea. Excited even to be sharing such a big part of my life.
We went to WalMart then. I shopped a bit. Bought a few things. I think I was just getting into different colors of eyeshadow back then. I was happy. Life was pretty good. Mom and I had had our issues but since I wasn't living with her anymore, it felt like they were all in the past. We got to the car and I started loading bags in. She took the shopping cart to the cart return and we got in and drove away.
It wasn't until I thought about it later, that I thought how odd it was that she bothered to take the cart back herself. As far as I can remember, she had never done that.
When she'd said goodbye, dropped me off at the transitional house, and I began unpacking the bags, I realized my purse was missing. It had been in the cart through the shopping trip. In the back part where you put your kid if you have one. It was a black bag, a bit shiny. Had all my ID and money and cards and, I think, some medication too. I figured I had left it in my mom's car when I got out. Easy enough when you're excited and thinking more about the bags of purchases in the back. I called her. I had not left my purse in her car.
Fast forward through the part where I panicked and called my bank to report my card lost, have it reissued, had a melt down. To when I got a phone call. A Christian couple had spotted my purse.
In the cart.
In the cart return.
Where my mother went out of her way and out of her character to return the cart herself.
They said they were surprised I had left without it because it was clear as day right there in that spot you stick your kid into.
At this point? I am pretty positive she did it on purpose. Because I had the audacity to propose having her meet my new best friend.
What I wouldn't do to go back to my younger self and tell her everything I now know about that woman. I would never have been an alcoholic and absent mother to my child. That's for damn sure.
September 19, 2025
I think sometimes that I accidentally make mistakes so that God can shine through. He has said, in His Word, that His power is made perfect in our weaknesses. Meaning, we as humans are weak, so when things happen for us it's ALL God's doing. He gets the glory. He is magnified. And I like that a lot. I know what happens when I try to do things for myself in my own strength. I end up addicted and homeless. When I give up trying to do it myself, He provides above and beyond. He is a good, good Father.
That being said, it bugs me when people try to tell me to take the credit. I didn't earn the credit. Left to my own devices, I nearly tanked my entire life. Left to my own devices, I was suicidal and actively ruining my body. So don't try to tell me to be proud of myself for how far I've come. I was going straight into the grave until God stepped in. He gets the praise and the credit.
Forever and ever, Amen.
September 18, 2025
The things I think and feel right now are not for public consumption. Instead, here are some more random thoughts.
When everything you believe is legitimately a theory, why are your beliefs any less based on faith than mine? And why are yours correct and mine are not?
It's not fair of me to fight with people on the internet. I think for myself, do research, and make educated and intelligent conclusions. They are completely unarmed. So I hold my tongue.
The best way to get me thinking about something fairly seriously is to hit me in an area of my beliefs that I have taken for granted. And challenge me to look critically at it. Key words are "taken for granted" not "come to a firm belief on."
I am tired of sexual content. I don't want to read it or see it. I am not a voyeur, thank you.
I definitely kink shame. What of it?
The Gospel of Jesus Christ is offensive to those who hate the truth. If you are talking about Jesus and no one is offended, you're doing it wrong. Not because offensiveness is the point but because you cannot speak about Jesus without speaking about the truth. Which, in turn, so many people hate to the degree they are offended by it.
Jesus was always kind but He was never nice. Kindness is a deep, authentic desire for the other person's well-being, even up to and including sharing difficult truths and holding boundaries. Niceness is a superficial response to possible conflict in order to redirect or prevent it. It almost always has to do with you and your comfort, not the other person. Jesus did not back down from conflict when it was necessary.
I really wish critical thinking was taught in schools and required for jobs. Maybe then more people would/could do it.
September 17, 2025
Just saw someone post about how 9 days without a phone is an eternity. And I stopped and thought, I go longer than that without someone texting or calling. I could probably have no phone and it wouldn't make much of a difference to my life.
Disappointment sucks. Especially when you have zero control over the situation and you think the person who does is making the wrong decision.
I find it funny that they say that, in addiction recovery, the people you hung around when you were in your addiction are the exact people you should avoid in recovery. The only person I hung out with in my addiction was my mother. And myself. So...
The cat got a taste of outside life earlier today and spent the next hour crying, wanting to return. It was the longest hour of my life so far this year. Poor little thing thinks she's queen of all she surveys and I, being the pleb that I am, shut her away from the biggest part of it.
I truly enjoy writing with my husband. I mean, I pretty much enjoy all things I get to do with my husband. Even grocery shopping. Especially cuddling. He's rather good looking as well.
September 16, 2025
When you get online and, with your whole chest, all ten toes down, say something as though it's a fact when you have done no research and only heard someone else say it. You cannot be taken seriously. You just cannot.
When you stand up behind that pulpit and you shout loud and proud, you didn't go to seminary and you don't need no crusty theologian to tell you what's what. AND YOU LIE? You cannot be taken seriously. But also? You should be very worried for yourself. The Bible speaks strongly about this.
But if you cause one of these little ones who trusts in me to fall into sin, it would be better for you to have a large millstone tied around your neck and be drowned in the depths of the sea.
Matthew 18:6
September 15, 2025
The group that I go to on Monday nights is really meant to sharpen me in my Christian walk. I expected it to take a little while before it really started the sharpening. Turns out that it only took 3 weeks. And the things that I learned about myself, the things that I started to understand about myself. Well, they weren't things I expected at all. Things that I apparently do need to work on though. Things that will take me down a path I never expected to travel. I do know that, when I allow God to touch the deeper parts of my soul that I don't even know exist sometimes, the journey is rough but the end results are always worth it.
September 13, 2025
The Powder Keg: Everyone who is led by emotions and is fed by the mainstream media and online echo chambers of intense irrational fear and anger.
The Spark: A public murder of someone whose opinion they disagreed with. Someone they irrationally feared because they were told his words were comparable to inciting violence against them.
The resulting explosion must have felt like relief. But celebrating violence and murder, exposing deeply dark mindsets, will have lasting effects on them. Far more than we will probably ever know.
Prayers for them.
September 12, 2025
It's interesting to see the push back against the people who publicly expressed glee over a father and husband's public murder earlier this week. Many people have been fired and removed from social media platforms because of zero tolerance policies that do not allow anything supporting violence. I like these policies. Not only does it keep people safe from those that would use the platform to organize violence, but it forces people to be held accountable for despicable displays of joy over murder.
I'm all for freedom of speech. Everyone has their right to say what they want to say. Promoting violence, even in a seemingly small way like saying you're glad it happened, is a stepping stone for allowing further encroachment of public violence. Definitely not the purpose of freedom of speech. I prefer accountability. I prefer people get a wake up call that their psychopathy is showing.
The most interesting thing coming out of this, from my personal perspective as a reader and a writer, is the number of social media accounts who are tallying up authors who spoke out with happiness over the murder. So that people, who have been asking, can remove them from their personal libraries or avoid reading their books in the future. Most notably, with the exception of Stephen King, who made a stupid tweet he admitted to not fact-checking before redacting and apologizing for it, all the authors are ones who write smut and gay erotica. Which I didn't realize straight, white women did so much reading of these days. I could've done without knowing that.
No author I read, except Stephen King, was on any of the lists I've seen. It's almost sad he fell into the trap of his own vitriolic mindset and got lumped in with those other authors. Do better, Stephen King.
September 11, 2025
I am no one's "aha gotcha" moment. It's kind of funny when they try. Apparently some people on the internet believe they are now deputized to police what people are allowed to feel and talk about in certain situations. They want to ask you for your credentials or your track record. Did you always do this or is this the first time, ma'am.
Not your business, rando.
And also, there's literally no moral high ground in calling out someone with an apples to oranges argument. When you're trying to argue with me on a topic I wasn't engaging in, you don't "win" just because I refuse to engage. Like, what? Make it make sense. I don't have to take the bait just because you want to argue. That doesn't mean I lose, it just means you made yourself look silly and childish.
That being said, my heart is sickened by what I'm seeing and hearing. The sheer magnitude of anger, depravity, and psychopathy on display is incredible to me. I don't throw psychopathy around lightly either. I am talking about serious, antisocial behavior in combination with a complete lack of empathy. Topped with a heavy dose of glee in the face of the suffering and death of others. On display. Proudly. Resistant to any sort of call for logic, reason, or compassion.
Now. Now is when I start to believe we are in the end of days.
September 10, 2025
A moment of quiet for the loss of life today. And for all of the sick individuals spouting garbage online proving they honestly believe people they disagree with deserve to die. Y'all are disgusting.
What I really wanted to talk about was something else. I recently heard someone talking about relationships and how they are about a 90/10 split between really enjoying and ehhh not really my favorite thing. As in, 90% of the time it's your favorite thing to be in this relationship and 10% of the time things happen that you just don't really like. Little misunderstanding, things that you don't agree completely on, a moment where something rubs you the wrong way.
I agree. I think relationships, romantic or platonic or familial, if they are healthy, are like this. And the 90% that is good definitely outweighs the 10% that isn't the greatest and you stay in the relationship with grace and love and forgiveness if necessary.
However.
When the 10% includes abuse of any sort? Well, the percentage is weighted. Heavily.
Meaning, if there is abuse of any sort in that 10%, the 90% that is good NEVER outweighs the 10%. EVER
EVER!
Abuse negates every tiny ounce of good that might happen in the relationship. It should be non-negotiable. It is not a "red flag" -- it is THE red death. Death of the relationship. There are no excuses that ever make it okay. And if they've done it once, they WILL do it again. It's just a matter of time.
So that needs to be the end of it. Run far away. It's done. Goodbye.
September 9, 2025
There is a sign at the entry of my neighborhood, just past the gate that everyone seems to think is optional and destroys at least once weekly. Someone with a sense of humor reminiscent of my father's changing the sign weekly. It usually says something that makes me think "womp-womp" and shake my head with a slight smile. This week's "joke" however wasn't particularly amusing to me. The sentiment is one that I've found people, who really should not be identifying with it, taking it deeply to heart.
Adulting is overrated.
Now, I get what the intended meaning is here. It's overpriced and disappointing a lot of the time to have to function in the adult world. However this is gone on to take on the meaning that we just aren't going to do it. Like any of it. We're just going to behave in as immature a fashion as we see fit and we're not going to give a damn who gets hurt or inconvenienced by it. My first priority is me.
Not my favorite thing in the world to be around. In fact, I would wager that most thinking people dislike those who have abdicated their highest mental functions and only behave like toddlers on a world tour. They touch and break things, they speak rudely, they have poor hygiene, etc. And they celebrate it.
Nope. Adulting is not overrated. Adulting is incredibly underrated and I would like for you all to at least behave like you understand that the world does not revolve around you. You're not the main character.
I am.
Me.
I'm the main character.
kthxbai!
September 8, 2025
Recently watched a video about a 13 year old girl and her boyfriend who were stalked, catfished, and bullied for years by an unknown person. And, after investigation by authorities, it turned out to be one of their mothers. People are astounded, shocked. I honestly was like, "Yeah, that tracks. Some mothers can't handle having successful children. Their egos are too fragile and they feel they never reached their own potential."
People are also remarking on how we're hearing so many cases like this more and more. What is happening?! Why is this skyrocketing?
Calm down, stop clutching your pearls. It's not getting worse. It's been this way for a LONG time. Just no one talked about it. The only reason you know more about it now? Well, that's called social media.
People finally have an outlet to talk about the horrors of their childhoods in a public forum where they can and do find people who have been through the same. The stories get amplified. And so more people feel comfortable talking about it. Just about anyone raised by a boomer can attest to the fact that, before social media, when they told you not to air your dirty laundry, you really had nowhere to air it anyway. I bet they hate the internet with a passion.
Now, if only I could find my tribe.
September 7, 2025
I normally don't post on Sundays, but I felt like it today.
I listened to a podcast about a woman whose family loved her enough to sit her down and risk losing her to tell her that they thought there was something not quite right about her soon-to-be husband. Reluctant and angry, she pushed pause on the wedding the day before it was supposed to happen. And suddenly discovered that man was an absolute monster.
In one of the episodes, speaking while looking back in hindsight, the woman says, "Not everybody is fortunate or blessed enough to have a dynamic with their family that could, quite literally, save their lives one day."
Except that's a normal dynamic. Normal people have this dynamic with their families. Normal people are loved by their families.
It's people like me who have a parent who so actively hates them that they would allow them to walk straight into a minefield unprotected and unwarned.
That means I am not normal.
That is my stepping off point for beginning a journey to help others who are also not normal.
Everything you once understood about people did not apply to this person. During the relationship, you tried to be compassionate, easygoing, and forgiving. You never could have known the person you loved was actively using these things against you. It just doesn’t make any sense. And, so, you spend your time projecting a normal human conscience onto them, trying to explain away their inexplicable behavior.
But, once you discover psychopathy, sociopathy, or narcissism, everything starts to change. You begin to feel disgusted. Horrified that you let this darkness into your life. Everything clicks and falls into place.
All of the "accidental" or "insensitive" behavior finally makes sense. You try to explain this to friends and family members, but no one really seems to get it. This is why validation matters. When you come together with others who have experienced the same thing as you, you discover you are not crazy. You are not alone in this inhuman experience.
- Jackson MacKenzie "Psychopath Free"
September 6, 2025
I sometimes think about the arguments I'd have if I were willing to argue with people. I have read enough of other people's arguments to know what they would say. I have had quite a few arguments in the past as well. I almost miss the adrenaline rush but I'm not fond of how, when faced with an argument they have no ability to refute, most people resort to personal attacks instead.
Debating, which is arguing without personal attacks and adrenaline rushes, is actually a muscle I miss exercising.
That being said, it is nice to have a husband and best friend who is on the same page as I am with most things. And, when we are not, he's good at teaching and presenting his point of view without being insulting. That's a skill few have but is one to be greatly admired.
There is still one arena in which we disagree and probably always will. But it's not a salvation issue or a marital issue so it's not really of consequence. It's kind of nice to disagree too because it means we are separate people with separate histories, experiences, personalities, and ideals. Sort of. We do pretty much agree on everything.
Now, if we could only figure out how to figure out where to go to dinner when neither one of us knows what we feel like eating!
September 5, 2025
On a whim, I applied for a job in a taxidermy office as the front desk admin. I honestly think it could be a lot of fun. I walked in, to fill out some paperwork, and there were a hundred pairs of eyes on the wall. Including a large, stuffed giraffe. A number of wild deer and deer-like species. Boar. Birds. It was literally wild. The smell was minimal and not unpleasant really. I can only think that it would be interesting and possibly good material for my memoirs one day when I write them. And I fully plan on writing them. A lot has happened over the past 45 years that I am sure people would get a kick out of reading. Or perhaps find inspirational too. We'll see where everything goes. I don't actually need to have a job but getting out of the house and experiencing the likely characters I'll meet in a taxidermy shop seems like a very worthwhile endeavor. Not to mention, I truly love working for small businesses. There's so much more room to make the job yours and expand the duties to include all kinds of other things. I'm not a fan of corporate jobs. I've only had 1 in my life and I hated it. But then, that was NJ where the people are absolutely miserable. I think Texas is a whole new playing field. We'll see!
September 4, 2025
The way people treat library books -- and the library in general -- is atrocious. I shouldn't open a book and get the remnants of your lunch on my clothes. Or have to touch the smudges of the chocolate bar you were eating while reading. This is not your book. You would treat your own book so much better. Why have library books become the reading equivalent of using a public toilet?
And why does no one teach children to be quiet in the library? Why does no one teach them to look around, see what others are doing, and be mindful and considerate? It's really not a concept that children cannot grasp. I grasped it when I was little.
Albeit I was threatened with being dragged into the bathroom and spanked if I disobeyed, but I grasped it!
I think I would've grasped it even without the threat of violence. All kids need is the appropriate attention. The worst offenders are smaller children being dragged into a quiet zone with a parent who has some random need to be there. The parent really just needs to stop, before entering the zone, get down on the child's level, look them straight in the eye and tell them they must be quiet. Ask them if they have anything they need to say or ask before they go into the quiet zone. Get it out of their system. Then come in. With a quiet child. Don't wander through with a kid who was asking questions as you walked into the zone and shush them over and over. That does absolutely nothing but annoy everyone in the quiet zone and make the kid ask the question again and again and again and again. Louder and louder and louder. Until you're now making just as much noise as they are going SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Stop ignoring your kids. Seriously. Stop bringing them into quiet zones and expecting them to be quiet when you haven't trained them to be so. Train them lovingly, with a pause to be sure their needs are met before parading them through where I am trying to stay focused on what I'm doing.
I miss the days when the library was a safe haven to read and write in calm and quiet.
September 3, 2025
"It is what it is" means "I know it's not my fault but I don't have the energy or ability to hold accountable whoever is at fault.
You wasted my time with an interview when you did not take me seriously. It is what it is.
You thought I was quiet and therefore didn't bother to hear what I had to say. It is what it is.
You were able to circumvent everything and never receive the treatment the rest of us did so you tell us to be quiet to keep the peace. It is what it is.
You didn't actually think I was as important as you said I was and discarded me. It is what it is.
You looked at me and thought I had it all together so you didn't bother to be my friend. It is what it is.
You won't accept reality even after nearly a decade. It is what it is.
You actively hated me and nearly destroyed me as a person. It is what it is.
It is what it is.
September 2, 2025
I am apparently in a minority of some sort. I prefer self-checkout. It's not because I don't want human interaction. No one gets me through the process of checking out my groceries and out of the store as fast as I do. I prefer pre-ordering on an app and picking up things at the restaurant. It's also not because I don't want human interaction. If someone other than me was more accurate (and patient with the alterations I want to make) I'd happily avoid the app and make in-person orders.
I don't think not wanting to have to deal with a cashier who is slowly running my purchases through, sometimes even smashing breakable food items out of carelessness, means I don't want human interaction. I don't think not wanting to have to deal with being misheard continuously and receiving things I do not want because of it means I don't want human interaction.
Oh my word, the amount of times we had to tell the guy at the drive thru that I wanted UNsweetened iced tea... and he still almost handed us a massive sweet tea.
I want to interact with humans who are not inept. That's all.
September 1, 2025
I'll never forget the day I nearly lost it. I'd been in recovery for 8 months. I'd endured the loneliness. The group punishments I hadn't earned. Built up a reputation for being incredibly trustworthy, on time, and where I was supposed to be, with a good attitude. All the time. Regardless of how I was feeling, I didn't let leadership see how rock bottom I almost always felt. How crazy I felt trying to be on top of everything. I spent a lot of time paying close attention to everything that was said. I was always alert. Always on my A game. I slept really well during that time because I was completely emotionally exhausted from the hypervigilance I'd honed and amped up to 20 because I was so afraid of having the wrath of leadership aimed at me. I'd seen how much it was not worth it when it had happened to other women. I wasn't interested.
I could be perfect. I sure could. Mom trained me how through all the years of trying to earn being loved.
Thank God that I didn't have access to alcohol during this time. I would've drunk myself into the grave. I was so tired.
Then someone on leadership approached me and asked if I had forgotten something. I don't remember what it was at this point. It was something miniscule that had been apparently mentioned during the morning meeting after breakfast. On a day I had taken off. So I hadn't heard it. I hadn't forgotten.
She knew I had not forgotten because she knew me and how I moved. A month prior, when there was a scheduling mix up and I showed up in the right place for the class that normally met there but was being held somewhere else that day for some reason? Well, she was the one who told me, when I looked at her with fear probably plain on my face at somehow having failed and finally being in the crosshairs for punishment, that she knew it had to be a mix up because I was always where I was supposed to be. She said she wasn't worried about me. She sent me on my way to the right place and it was never questioned after that.
So she knew I hadn't forgotten anything. I honestly think they kept trying to trip me up and see if I would lose it. Because I ended up with a punishment for "forgetting" whatever it was. A punishment for being human. A punishment for a blip after 8 months of desperate perfection. I had to set up and break down the Sunday night snack for the guest preachers they always invited. For an entire month (This was something that went on a rotation and you did it maybe three times at most during the entire time you were there and never in a row). It was not fun. It meant I lost a bunch of my free time before and after chapel. And it was also public shame because all the women in the program knew I was being punished. I was humiliated.
I remember going to the chapel and laying on one of the pews when it was dark and I was alone. I shouted at God. It wasn't fair. I knew it. He knew it. But there I was. Stuck. How do you deal with being put in that place? I know how other women handled it there. They refused. They mouthed off. They packed up and left.
I had nowhere to go. I had to deal with everything that was put on me during that time. And I nearly lost it. I had been wound so tight for so many months trying to avoid this situation. And there I was and I hadn't even earned it! Even if I had heard the announcement I supposedly "forgot" and actually forgot it -- where was the grace? I had an 8 month record of being trustworthy, not a problem, doing what I'm supposed to be at all times.
I think they tried to see what would happen if they did that to me. Because the same woman from leadership who punished me came up to me after it was over and told me she was impressed with how I had handled it so graciously. What other choice did I have? Try to stand up for myself? They would have just seen it as being argumentative. It would have gotten me further punishment. I wasn't interested. I was exhausted.
Another time something similar happened. Another woman in leadership (she was newer and didn't know me as well as the first) tried to say that I had gone to bed when I was supposed to be cooking something down for the next day's dinner. I was in bed, yes. With my book or devotional, I can't remember. But I had set an alarm. It was not like it required me to be in the kitchen the entire time. I grew up with food cooking down on the stove my entire life. I knew it didn't need to be babysat.
That time, a couple other women in leadership stood up for me. Thankfully. She actually apologized to me but I remember just the way my body responded. The fear, the despair, the hopelessness, the pointlessness. I shook violently and cried silently in my bed. I had no control over my life no matter how much I did the right things. I did everything I possibly could to be perfect. And here was someone in leadership, in authority, who didn't bother to understand the situation. She just charged ahead to punish me.
I didn't matter as a person. That was the message I got so often during recovery. I thank God that I had Him during that time. That those women in leadership were not role models for me because they were angry, abusive, out of control women. Some went on to go back into addiction and be asked to leave. One, sadly, died back in her addiction. I am not angry with them. They should not have been in leadership. They were women who had just finished the program themselves. Women who had not fully healed and were, some of them, very brand new Christians. They took out their residual issues on us and I was absolutely traumatized by the whole experience.
Nevertheless, this is the stuff God used. To bring me closer to Him. It's a refiner's fire. It's uncomfortable. It feels like damage. What other people do to each other is definitely damaging. Would I want to go through that again? No. Would I have avoided it at all costs had I known that was what I was getting into when I worked so hard to get into that recovery place? Yes, I really would have. And I would not know God the way I know Him now. I would not trust Him as I do.
Purging the garbage that happened to me is like re-opening wounds I honestly didn't know were there because they hadn't felt as huge as the rest of what I was going through at the same time. The reckoning of the fact my mother actively hates me. The realization that I am basically alone in the world as far as birth family goes. That I have to do it without anyone that normal people have. And most of them will never understand or care about what I've been through because their bigger worry is that I've cut off contact with my mother. That and how I was raised was enough to consume anyone. Add to it the absolute hell I went through during recovery. I never dealt with that. With how exhausted I was on every level by the time it was over.
I had MAJOR trauma bonds with several people in leadership there. The longing for a friend the entire time I was there. Just someone who I could talk to who could understand that I was losing my sanity while trying to find God and hold on to sobriety. I was losing everything while they gained everything. They didn't get it. Their families all surrounding them. Or volunteers adopting them. So happy they were getting well, finding God, becoming free from the slavery they'd been damaging themselves in for years. While mine just wanted to either see me punished or turn to look the other way because my addiction was embarrassing to them. Still is.