The enemy is on the lurch. He got me good, too.
Set up by the person I am to love and trust most in the world to be hit hard and fast, relentlessly, cruelly, unabashedly... leaving me feeling raped in mind, will and emotions. Overcome with fear, disgust, alarm, nausea, hopelessness, being trapped, uncared for, hated, ambushed, betrayed, tricked, mocked, and deeply harmed in the core of my being, as if I were falling into one of those abstract nightmares I used to have as a child where I am constantly falling, hurdling headlong and out of control into an abyss from which I cannot be rescued.
I meekly and quickly thanked Jeshua for it, quietly and not heartfelt, but dutifully did thank him. Then forgave the same way. He is not repentant. No remorse. That is as it always has been. There has to be someone to blame. Repentance will not come until he has no one else to blame.
But I am not strong, and I do not know how to keep on with this mission.
I am not Hosea. I was not told to marry a harlot. What is a male harlot called? Well, I do not know if this is going to be the last time, or if I will hang in for another hit. Because another hit will surely be coming.
My heart had recently as yesterday seemed like the pretty white rosebud I brought in from Julia's bush. Outer petals wide and opening, but still closed in the center, still thorns on the stem. A heart, white, not black. Now the center is browning as are the outer petals, and the center is not at all open, nor is it planning on opening any further.
It won't be long until the brown overtakes the white.
And I will be right back to square one. Wait, not will be. Am. The rage, indignation, fear, horror of it all. Bitterness and desire to end it all. It would be so easy to go online and search for someone to care about my heart, but honestly, I do not think anyone else can be trusted, either.
Now, as for the back pain. Not at all good today. Been ten days since I graced the doors of 24 Hr. Fitness. Too windy to ride bike. No fixed vehicle. I saw it coming, the further mess in the boys' old room, the quitting of the gym, the role of a beggar in the opera with no singing, the visions of grandeur, self-centered racing here and there. Playing the FTV game with me was only a ruse. Part of the enemy's grand slam against my soul.
Then Saturday, I lost all motivation for further exercise after having to re-vacuum the hardwoods and mop them with the big bulky mop, which left pieces behind in its trail; even Naproxin didna seem to help the heavy throbbing down in the lower lumbar region. So while Mark's band practiced downstairs, I fumed up here in my cell. He insisted on turning on the AC for them. Does he for me when it is hot? Of course not.
And today is beautiful, windy, but beautiful. Unfortunately, I do not feel good enough to go outside. So here I lie, typing up this melancholy message to myself. or Whoever.
Oh, to have a friend, to have a heart to heart with someone who knows what it's all about here in this darkness. But, no. Not a soul. No one knows, nor will I dump it on anyone about whom I care.
I didna really want to go to the Family Practice Doc this morning. But in the end, I am glad I did go.
Dr. Shelton is seemingly a Christian. He has a good spirit about him. He is almost jovial, but not forced. Just naturally a cheerful soul. Even when tired. I trust him. He is always telling Mark, who insists that I have Type II Diabetes, that my sugar levels are OK. Even good.
He said the bowel upset might be coming from too much Naproxin. Didna think it was from the thyroid. Said he would up my dose in that if the blood test reflected the need. Said to try the Tramadol again but only with food. Said it didna have codeine. Said the rash was prolly as Mark insisted, Candida. Will prolly not do Candida diet until after the trip. Am really concerned about being able to handle going, being there, coming home, etc. It is overwhelming and depressing to think about it, when I should be giddy with excitement.
Mark thinks way too highly of himself. What it will take to humble him will not be pretty, and I am not at all ready to handle any more from him. In fact, I am considering having him leave the premises. I am definitely praying about it, since I do not want to accidentally come across any more of his smut. It has escalated in form and really did undo me this time.
But he did put the Covenant Eyes on this machine, and he (mechanically) came up and prayed for me to be able to sleep without automatically recalling those images and the demons who attack me in my sleep to be bound. He said he had no faith to pray for my back. But at least he did that much. Knowing his desire to be right, knowing his stubbornness, it couldna have been any easy task for him.
But, what I need is someone to care about my heart. Oh, I know He does. And my Daddy Abba, and the Holy Spirit... But I need someone with a voice and arms that I can feel.
I am really in need of more grace in my life to carry on these next few weeks. Without it I am surely sunk.
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