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Be Brave

November 20, 2019. The day of my freedom.

I didn’t understand it. None of it made sense at the time. But I had become a prisoner. Here’s what happened.

My now ex-husband started having psychotic episodes. He became dangerous. He threatened murder of various people, including a very good friend of mine. He threatened suicide numerous times, up to twice a day. It became a joke. “Sure. Go kill yourself.” He was upset I wasn’t taking him seriously. Well, after years of threats and no carry through, would you? It was all an act.

I’m not going to dwell on the past, and I’m certainly not going to regret anything. If I hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t have my son. I can regret no action which led to that.

My God kept telling me to leave the marriage. I didn’t understand. My God didn’t like divorce. Oh sure, He allowed it. (Deuteronomy 24:1-visit this link for more explanation) But it wasn’t something He necessarily urged a person to do… Was it?

My friends kept telling me to leave. Some wanted to stay out of it, but more and more said to go. They saw what I didn’t. It was destroying me. They called him abusive, and while yes, I was abused, I don’t blame him. He was, and still is, mentally ill. This is not his fault. But just because it’s not his fault doesn’t mean I stick around for it. Besides, my God was leading me elsewhere, and as confused as I was, I followed with pure faith.

Then one day, my ex was his worst. I called my father, a man I had taken in years ago. I told him to take off for a few days. Told him why. Told my kid to have a safe place to go if he needed to.

He needed to.

The cops took my ex away. He was later committed. My son had run off to his safe place. I was alone. Completely. Alone. I texted, e-mailed, and called every friend I could. I exhausted them all. This continued for several days. I was in anguish.

See, my ex had convinced me it was all my fault. He had drained our budget on these guilt trips, filling the house with toys. I let him. I felt responsible. Afterall, it was all my fault. I finally convinced my son to return home. I would not allow my ex in the house as long as he was there. My then father also returned and asked, “What’s to stop him from pulling a gun on you or (your son)?” We hugged. I told him how much it all hurt me. I thought he was being reasonable, that he was on my side, you know, his daughter’s side. That he was going to support me in all this. I was wrong.

Next thing I know, my then father turned on me. My then brother, who had helped convince me a separation was in order, also turned on me. Even though my ex pulled a gun on our kid, even though I was literally afraid for my life two times in one week, that wasn’t enough for a separation in their eyes. Not a divorce, a separation. I asked my then father what was wrong. He was upset I was getting a divorce. I never asked for a divorce. Oh, OK, well all forgiven then. You’re my daughter again. My then brother, on the other hand said, and I quote, “Well I support (your ex) in this because he’s family.” I’ll let that sink in for you…

I never got along with him anyway, so it was no weight on my shoulders to walk away.

Then I had a chat with my then father. He believed everything my ex said, and potentially took it the wrong way I don’t know who said what anymore, nor do I care. He didn’t believe a word I told him. His own daughter. Over a man recently arrested and committed. I didn’t kick him out per se, but I said him or me. He wanted to stay, so he bought my property off of me, and me and my son moved out.

God was with us the whole time. Had a house waiting for us, just under what I got for my property. My son suddenly became a new person. He was no longer terrified. He no longer wanted to move out. I didn’t understand his fear at the time. I went to a court-mandated class recently, where I discovered something.

These two pictures explain 15 types of domestic abuse. At the time, I checked off 9 of them. In looking again, I should have checked off 10. My friends had been asking me what was wrong for months. They had told me to escape. My God had told me to escape. I didn’t understand. I had become accustomed to it. Conditioned.


Once I realized just how bad I wanted out, I knew they had all been right, that I had never misunderstood my God. I had just let my upbringing and insecurity cloud my judgement. When I saw my son (and myself) leave half our crap behind, just so we didn’t have to go back into that house, I knew it was the right decision to leave. When I didn’t even glance at my bank account and just ran with what I had, when I was willing to walk from my blood relatives without ever looking back, when every friend who hadn’t butted into my business found out we were splitting told me how they felt about it and were glad I was now safe, I knew I had made the right decision. In fact, I recently talked with a professor I had last semester, a professor who had some insight of what was going on. I told her what I had done with more detail than I’m telling you (I don’t want to come across as too nasty 😉 lol). She gave me a big hug and told me how proud she was of me.

So, dear reader, if someone is warning you about something you don’t see, think about it. If several people are warning you, really look into it. And if God is telling you to do something you don’t understand, pray, listen, and trust Him. But above all, don’t look back. It’s not worth the money. It’s not worth the relationships and “family” who will only “love” you if you make the decisions they want you to.

Be brave.

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Ignorant Liberals of the South

WARNING: This is a political opinion piece which may anger some people. Read at your own risk.

I try very hard not to post political opinions of any sort anywhere, but I’ve had enough of one particular item. And that would be Designing Women. As a child, I loved that show. In college, I watched reruns sporadically. But as an adult, I think it’s preposterous, racist, biased, ignorant, and just plain annoying.

Take the episode I’m watching now, “Julia Runs Over the First Amendment”. Julia decides she can’t handle pornography magazines, so she runs over the newspaper stand selling them with her car. That’s stupid. Now, she has to pay the owner all the expenses, keeping him in business and giving him amazing publicity. She couldn’t have helped the porn industry more.

From the very first episode Anthony is introduced, we see racist undertones. I didn’t see it as a child, and in college it was just background noise and not something I listened closely to. But now, as I try to watch something I once thought was wonderful (mainly because Susan was awesome) I see how he is mistreated constantly, solely because of his race. And this behavior is accepted by the characters and audience. That’s racist.

I’m not going to delve into the “overweight” issues of Delta Burke. Hollywood is notorious for its sexist and biased issues with women. So that’s not unique to the show.

But I will state how this show (like many others in Hollywood) is full of hatred for anyone who doesn’t agree with them. I remember MaryJoe stating, “Oh, no I agree that we should…” as if it were required for her to have a certain opinion. As if not being the most liberal person on the planet were a heinous sin. It’s not. Just in case you thought it was. How they portray any Conservative viewpoint in the most exaggerated, horrible light and chew them down like they’re the bully who needs to be beaten and taught a lesson, much to the cheers of the crowd. FYI, Hollywood, Conservatives are not the bullies. Bullies come in all shapes, sizes, cultures, and political viewpoints. Bullies are people who use their power to bring down someone they don’t like, who beat people either weaker than they are, or better than they are because they’re not going to start a fight with the bully. You know, like how a TV show with the power to share its opinion and shun others’ uses its power to beat down Conservatives. Think about that.

I remember hearing how the writers wanted so much to incorporate Southern culture into their show. They missed a few things. OK, they missed a lot of things. Like for one, how “true Southern women” are not dressed in white lacy hankies and spend their time on porches with parasols pretending they’re still masters of their plantations. Those masters were the Democrats of the South, and they were long gone by the 1980’s. We’re Republican now, and we are against slavery, as the Republican party has always been. I don’t know a single person who can trace their lineage back to plantation ownership, because those were haughty bigwigs who moved North. The Southerners I know are descendants of slaves and poor white people. Riding in horse-drawn carriages is normal, would not cause a fuss, and would not land you with Animal Control and a heavy fine. Ask any of the 100 or so Mennonite and Amish people in my small community alone who I often encounter on the roads. That’s ignorant. It’s biased because they can’t see the South for what it is and have to coat it with their mis/preconceptions.

And my favorite pet peeve, Susan’s AR-15. For one, they throw around the word “semi-automatic” like it’s something to fear, which, in turn, causes fear. It’s like how Rowling portrayed Voldemort’s name and legend. Unnecessary fear, when screamed at the top of your lungs, becomes infectious, sickening the ignorant with its disease. Which is exactly what you get when you have obviously gun-ignorant people trying to portray a political message. When Susan is hypothetically mugged. “Oh, well I have a gun!” She then spends 5 minutes searching her purse for the weapon. The writers do everything they can to portray those whose opinions they wish destroy, not disagree with, destroy, as preposterous. My weapon, if carried, is in a holster. I would never have it lying willy-nilly in a bag. That’s unsafe and ridiculous.

I watch a lot of shows written by liberals who express their opinions from time to time. From time to time. Not every episode, and not in a destructive, ignorant way. Take Frasier. Martin, a cop, and clearly a Republican, decides he doesn’t want the general public carrying weapons. This is very out of character for him. So is his stance on abortion “Blob. Person. Blob.” But these opinions are softly spoken, not harsh, and not EVERY SINGLE EPISODE. Oh, and get this, the writers of this show acknowledge BOTH sides as good and bad. They have characters who allow for differing opinions without declaring one as the winner. For example, when Frasier’s liberal candidate is discovered to believe in aliens and harbor illegal immigrants (although the immigrants I believe were a misunderstanding). Or when Dr. Nora, although written as an extreme lunatic, is appreciated by both Martin and Daphnie for having conservative values.


Dear Linda Bloodworth Thomason et al.,

Perhaps, someday, you will read this and learn that you were, in fact, playing the part of the bully. And you were, in fact, displaying ignorance, racism, and prejudice. And maybe, just maybe, you will read this and realize that your opinions do not need to be shouted from the rooftops and shoved down people’s throats.


Me 🙂

My First Day as a Substitute Teacher

OK, not really my first day, but my first day that really really counted as far as I’m concerned (long story). I’m going back to school to get my teaching degree, and substituting locally allows me to make connections and gain experience before being thrown to the wolflets.

I have to be there at 7:20. I work until after 10:00 the night before at my wonderful retail job from the bowels of you-know-where. Seriously, last night, if it could go wrong, it did. I had one cashier walk out without saying a word to anyone, just turned off her light, clocked out, and went out the door. All my registers at the service desk locked up and had to be rebooted, causing me to direct the long line there to registers 3 and 4 where I did what I could to fix the original problem and handle the original customers. I had to work selfcheck and play csm, at the same time, alone, for over an hour. I forgot one person’s break and lunch and felt so terrible about it. She eventually went, but still.

Anyway, so this morning I wake up early, (better than late!) and drive to my destination. The principal there stops herself from hugging me and says, “Thank you for coming! And early too!” I was way early, like over 30 minutes earlier than the 25 minutes early I was supposed to arrive in the first place. The secretary is bouncing with joy I’m there. Something’s off. Everyone is so thrilled to see me. What on earth is going on?

Principal: So I’m guessing you heard what happened.

Me: (So this is what terror tastes like) Eh…….

Principal: We lost a student over the weekend in an accident.

Oh crap.

So, while as terrible as this is, and it was, high school grief has changed a lot since my day, and this was a perfect opportunity to understand the new process before being blown headon with it as a real teacher.

Me: Oh!

Sad, respectful things are said, I’m given my binder, key, and badge, and then my questions start. This school has at least 8 different schedules. Some of them with a short 3rd period, some with an activity in the morning/afternoon/evening. Every period seems to have a “physical activity” time at the end of it. I have 2nd lunch duty. Times of my lunch duty, period changes, etc, are based on which schedule we’re doing. Due to the death, we are no longer on our regular schedule and are now on the homeroom in the morning schedule (yes, they have HR in the midday and afternoon schedules too-eye roll). An assistant principal joins my HR with one crying girl and announces sad things. HR lasts forever, and the announcement during first period states we are now in “activity in the morning schedule because HR took so long.”

I’m teaching choir. I don’t have an accompanist nor the skills to be one. Thankfully, the teacher has left me videos for them to watch. Grease, a ridiculous musical about a sweet, innocent girl who must learn to smoke, drink, and screw around in order to get the guy she loves (There’s morals for ya), and Bohemian Rhapsody, which I was actually wanting to watch. I couldn’t help but stare at his false teeth the whole time. I’m all for accuracy, but they should have just left him with normal teeth instead of making him look like a freak. Sub+movies+unusual occurrence (aka death)=fun times for students who want to goof off. That, and I was literally told by the principal to just babysit my kids today (due to the death) sigh

I had several students in crying fits who went for counseling. I dismissed 1st period 10 minutes early because I took “physical activity” seriously and let them out to go do whatever they were supposed to do, but it actually means “extra time at the end of class” and I should have waited for “physical activity” to be over. I will say this. Dealing with grief at school has certainly changed, but I love how kids now just let loose with their emotions. “Hey. I’m sad. I need to see the counselor.” No one made fun of them crying. Several tried to console and cheer them up. It was awesome!

Lunch duty was a breeze but boring. Every period was filled with at least 5 announcement of students being called to the office for early dismissal (a few were pretty inconsolable). By last period, the sadness of the day seemed gone, and the goofing began. One group talked nonstop and even set up an arm wrestling tournament. I stopped it quickly. Another group of three boys were an entity in theirselves. One would try something, it wouldn’t work, the other two would try the same thing. I mean seriously, if the first time didn’t work, are you really that stupid? Those three did everything, everything to test me. I ignored most of it, sat near them the duration of the movie, and gave them my dead pan stare of “seriously kid? Is that all you got?” that I give annoying customers at work. The stare worked better than it did at work. Good. I put the room back in order, turned in my paperwork, and left a little note for the teacher about his class.

So yeah, all in all an excellent experience. I’m sure the same kids every day would fluctuate. The bad would get worse for a day or two then start to (very slowly) straighten up. The good at first would get comfortable and start slacking, etc. But overall discipline tends to improve over the school year.

I go for orientation for a different county Wednesday. A bigger county. A more diverse county. While there is always the chance for a group of good kids, there is also the very good chance of a challenge. I love challenges. (evil grin)

How to Get Started Writing

I recently gave an interview to the Crossville Chronicle where I was asked the familiar question, “What do you recommend to people starting out writing?”. Here’s the answer I should have given.

“Discover if you should be writing.”

If writing a single book, short story, blog post, poem, doesn’t change you as a person forever, walk away. As I sit here and type this out, I feel the flow of emotion run through my arms and into my keyboard as a needed release of energy. When I write poetry, when I blog about my day, when I type out a paragraph in a story, when I release a story trapped in my head, I am free.

Have you ever watched a true artist perform? A singer sing, especially in the studio/while writing the song? Their eyes close, their body gyrates and jerks. Emotions contort their skeletons in obscure ways. This is how I write. I smile, I laugh, I cry, I cringe. Words leave my fingertips and enter the keys of my keyboard, in the same way music flows from a pianists hands. Creativity is a living being, jailed within an artist’s body, and if we don’t find a way to release it, it will kill us from within.

If you are not experiencing these things. If you are not waking up with story ideas. If you are not driving down the road, obsessing about a plot unfolding. If you are not allowing a burning beast to travel from your soul to a piece of paper, you are not a writer.

No, I’m not saying you’re not an artist. I’m not saying you’re not creative. Maybe you need to be a musician, a vocalist, a painter, a sculptor. Maybe you will be a leader in medical science. But please, stop writing. It’s a waste of your time. Instead of discovering what you should be doing, you’re chasing a prey you will never catch.

So, how do you start writing? Ask yourself, should you be writing.

No More Privilege

I remember reading a story in elementary school I thought ridiculous. Who on Earth would think the way this story was written? And yet, I see my society growing closer to that way every day.

The story revolved around two dancers and a middle-aged couple. The dancers were a young woman and man who danced very, very well. The young lady was also very attractive. The middle-aged couple was a woman of average intelligence and the man of above average intelligence.

The dancing couple were forced to wear heavy weights so they couldn’t jump higher than the average dancers. The girl was forced to wear a mask so she wouldn’t be more beautiful than what was considered the norm.

The man in the married couple had an implant which pinged his brain every minute or so, preventing him from having deep thoughts, preventing him from being “smarter than average”.

We live in a society where anyone with better grades and a better job or lifestyle are called privileged, bad, favored, unfair. No, it’s not fair. Life’s not fair. I have a higher IQ than normal. I have a passion for writing. I work a deadend job in a terrible place that sucks the souls of its employees. I’m doing what I can to get out, but I still won’t be doing what I love for a living, writing, acting, singing, things like that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the best singer, and I don’t want to get back into acting, but writing? I’d jump on that moving train barefoot. But under no circumstances whatsoever do I sit back and say, “You shouldn’t have a better life than me. It’s not fair!” Why? Because I’m not a five-year old.

Oh, I used to think that, when I was more immature and silly, but not anymore. I help others down on their luck and study those more successful than I.

I had a conversation with a few people who thought anyone going to a private school was clearly “privileged”. That private schools, quite frankly, shouldn’t exist. That if your school didn’t have starving children with a crappy homelife, well it just wasn’t worth going to! Seriously? You want children to be hungry and have no parents? For the record, most people don’t send their children to private schools to avoid “dirty” children, they send them to get a better education, which they do get. I have both taught and attended private schools, and trust me, the education there is better. If you don’t like the schools, don’t send your kids there. Bam. Problem solved.

So please, stop blaming rich people, smart people, talented people, people with better networks than you for your life. I would never ask a person more beautiful or more talented than I to wear a mask or be crippled so as to never outshine me. That is both petty and ridiculous. Life may not seem fair right now, but requiring those of “privilege” to step down, to make less money, to live differently than how they can afford, isn’t fair either. And trying to make them feel guilty for having a better life than “average” is wrong. Stop.

Sodom and Gomorrah in Prophecy

I’m sure this post will get a lot of hateful comments. I may even lose subscribers, but I’ll let you in on a secret. I don’t care. However, I will stick to the facts and not share opinions strictly to keep from sparking too much fire.

Prophecy states the end will be like Sodom and Gomorrah. Everyone, at least most everyone, associates that with homosexuality. But homosexuality wasn’t the biggest deal with Sodom and Gomorrah.

The Book of Yashar is mentioned in Joshua and Samuel of Scripture, possibly more. A copy of it can be found here. But I always recommend you find a copy that works for you. (Personally I don’t enjoy 40 pages of preface, but maybe you do??) Anyway, it goes into detail on Sodom and Gomorrah.

For example, did you know it was illegal to give a traveler food? Bear in mind the distances between cities were several days minimum, in a desert. Most wouldn’t survive without food and water, especially water. So S&G set up a torturous system where they would give a traveler copious amounts of gold when they arrived, but made it illegal to sell them any food. One of Lot’s daughters was killed for giving a starving man bread and keeping him alive. S&G had four beds set up on the road for travelers. If you slept in the bed, the locals were allowed to rape you, to death.

Another example is when Eliezer was hit with a stone, causing his forehead to bleed. The attacker demanded his money for “ridding him of his bad blood”. See, the law there was, if you hit someone, they pay you for your services. Uh huh. Eliezer got out of it by throwing a stone at the judge and saying to apply the money the judge now owed him to the other guy.

This example brings us to today. A guy breaks into a store to steal, falls and breaks his leg, sues the store and wins. Sounds a lot like the stone situation to me. Or how about the recent Australian story where a guy saved a girl from being killed, and some of the population want him punished for harming the girl’s attacker?

S&G had a LOT of problems. They were vile, selfish, lawless, hateful, dangerous towns I would NOT want to visit, let alone live in. So when you read prophecy, like when you read any Scripture, try to understand the culture at the time. If you tell an isolated Ukrainian child you’re going to take them to a wonderful place like Disney World, they’re not going to understand. Explain Disney to them, and they will. We can’t look at this prophecy based on the tiny bit of verse of Lot. We have to look at what S&G were really like, and then we’ll realize, it’s not just homosexuality, it’s a lot more.

Magiquest in Mason, OH

We recently visited another Magiquest, the one in Mason, OH. I took my dad’s Gopro, but sadly haven’t been able to figure out how to access the files. You have to download and use an app or something. Anyway, while he spends the next decade working on that, I will say the water park was nice, not great, nice. And the one thing keeping it from being amazing was the lack of an adequate signalling system.

Most water parks, at least modern ones, have a signalling system of some sort, be it a monitor to watch the bottom, a person at the bottom giving a thumbs up when it’s safe, or little green and red lights at the top to tell the sliders to go. In fact Dollywood’s Splash Country has just the lights and they will tell you, “When it turns green go.” But here, at Great Wolf Lodge in Mason, OH, they have one attendant with four slides. He will go to one slide, set it up, very very slowly, let them go, wait, mosey, wait some more, set up the next one. It took FOREVER to get on a slide because the attendants were sooooooo slooooooowwwww, and they were being slow on purpose because for all I could tell, there were no signalling devices.

That being said, the lazy river was nice, and the slides were nice, I just wish I got the enjoy the slides more.

But let’s be honest, I was there for Magiquest. Aren’t I always? Pretty much everything was the same as my previous posts save two. The first is that Shadowquest had two screens down, making several of the quests impossible, causing you to have to go to the shop and get those specific quests marked as “done” by their little computer. The second was the most frustrating, Remember Compassquest? Remember that one quest, I think the last one, that causes you to visit every single podium in a specific order? Yeah, this location randomizes that quest. It’s impossible. No, seriously, especially since this location was in even worse shape than the Magiquest locations no longer considered pet projects by the main company. (Still irked about that because they RUINED a wonderful culture and several businesses, and they did it on purpose, kind of like walmart, but I digress.) I was running through all five hallways in all three stories, sweating. I was in great shape at the time, running and working out regularly, and my son and I both tried to do it, racing each other, at times when it was as sparsely populated as possible. Still no. I wound up having the merchant have the computer say I did it.

That was far from the only glitch. One poor child had tried to finish the fairy quest so many times she was almost in tears. I came up and tried to help her, it still didn’t want to work. I think it could have been her wand, but a LOT of people were having trouble there, more so than any location I’ve ever been to. Shadowquest was so bad, it had to be rebooted for me to finish it.

Now, despite all the glitches, and there were a LOT of glitches, Marcus and I wound up getting the top 10 for several leaderboards: runes collected, gold collected, points for the month, etc. I haven’t included all of them so as not to bore you, but here are a couple (I’m Stormy, he was Sniper).

So, my main reason for writing this was to tell you that particular level of Compassquest is randomized at this location. Don’t bother with the list. And although this wasn’t part of the original post, I’m going to add, we’re pretty much done with Great Wolf Lodges. We may visit a Magiquest location if we travel there, but as far as the walmart versions known as Great Wolf? Not anymore. We’ll stick to the good stuff.

My Proudest Moment as a Parent

The other night my son came to me with a mischievous grin on his face, and a story on his lips. “I have to tell you something.” We were sitting in the hot tub, an almost nightly ritual for our family where we talk about our days and have those special sharing moments. So I told him to wait for his father to join us. He said, “I’d rather wait to tell him. I want to tell you first, because you’re more rebellious than he is.”

I wasn’t sure how to react to this.

Arlis joined us soon enough, and he was not disappointed!

Marcus got ahold of the password for the teachers’ network/wi-fi, not the students’. He uses this network because he says it’s faster, etc. OK, not a problem.

It was the end of history class, and they were allowed to goof off until the next class started. He started watching YouTube – Pina Colada. Then he pressed “cast”. Then he turned the volume all the way up. He later heard the story of what happened in the classroom full of victims because some of his friends were in there. In the Culinary Arts classroom (a whole other story on its own), the TV turned on and started blaring “Pina Colada”. There was a mad scramble for the remote. They turned the TV off. Marcus turned it back on. Off. On. Mute. Volume max. Turn down. Turn up.

He stopped the casting, presumably when class was over. He repeated this with a different song a day later, on a different TV.

Then he watched “Power of Love” by Huey Lewis. And he found a new TV, one he hadn’t seen before. He pressed “cast”. For whatever reason, he was able to roam the halls this time. I assume it was lunch time. So he walks around, trying to find which TV he’s just invaded.

The same battle ensues. Off/On. Up/Down. He hears the song’s lyrics bouncing in volume from down the hall. He follows it. It came from the office. Oops.

He about faces and disconnects. Now, Arlis is not angry, he’s laughing. I’m loving it. But Arlis mentioned something I hadn’t realized, “You know your YouTube username shows up when you do that.”

Without missing a beat, Marcus said, “I know. I used a fake account.” Bam!

And that, folks, is my proudest moment as a parent.

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