Open Memoir - Emotionally Damaged: Living with Clinical Depression/PTSD/Job Burnout...Whatever...

 

Lying No longer is a Profitable Activity...for...Anybody?

When A Major Star Talks - Young Voters Will Listen...?

I live a hermit-life most of the time. It's for my own mental health that I do that... And for others, as well...

It's well over 20 years since I walked off the job with a medical leave that had been documented by my primary doctor, and the required psychiatric review... In general, I am fine, but I never know when something will happen to trigger me... Normally, I have one of two different emotional responses. I cry and withdraw. Or, I become overtly angry or aggressive...

Once I was diagnosed and had many different episodes, although more so immediately after I had retired. I still have flashbacks. I had one recently so decided to write about it... You see, once the trauma has occurred, your brain is never the same.

Amygdala. This 1-inch, almond-shaped area of the brain is considered the “fire alarm.” Once it senses danger, the amygdala is the part that kicks you into fight-or-flight mode.

If you’re living with trauma, research shows that your amygdala doesn’t recognize the difference between a threat then and a threat now. So, when you’re reminded of a past experience, it responds exactly as it would if you were experiencing the traumatic event for the first time, sending out a rush of stress hormones, like cortisol.

As a result, you may feel like you’re on edge, on high alert, or have high levels of stress or anxiety all the time.

Hippocampus Located at the back of the brain, the hippocampus is considered the learning center.

Research shows that the hippocampus is smaller and less active in people who’ve experienced trauma, which can create issues around memory and problem-solving.

This can make it hard for you to distinguish between the past and present, keeping you in a constant state of hypervigilance or strong emotional reactivity.

Prefrontal cortex. Located at the front of your brain, the prefrontal cortex is the rational, decision-making area. For those living with trauma, research shows that the prefrontal cortex is less active.

This suppression can slow down the learning of new information that could help you control your fear. Combined with an overactive amygdala, the prefrontal cortex can have a harder time overriding the fight, flight, or freeze response.

As such, you may feel like you have a hard time controlling your fear response or struggle with logical thinking.

Nervous system, When the nervous system is constantly in overdrive with PTSD, it can shrink your window of tolerance — that is, the amount of stress you can handle before it becomes unmanageable.

Compared to a person without a history of trauma, you may find that you’re set off by smaller events or have a trauma response around an event when others might not.

PTSD is most associated with veterans who have suffered major trauma in their lives, often resulting with flashbacks into a war-like situation.

But, for me, and perhaps many others who do not know it, PTSD can evolve as a part of your job. Commonly referred to as Job Burnout. Thankfully this has now been recognized as an individual issue, as opposed to being umbrellaed under Clinical Depression, which, often, has no basis of understanding as to what issue you are experiencing.

When I was first diagnosed, I had almost nightly dreams, waking up to find myself in the midst of doing some tedious job at work that never seemed to end. It was something simple, like copying a report. Yet the loss of control, the feeling of the task never getting done magnifies through a simple, boring job that continues in your head, even after waking up. A feeling of failure is often an adjective that could be used. One for me is frustration... Why? Because I knew that it wasn't my fault that I was now living with job burnout...

Or Was It?

At this time in my life, I waver about that answer... so I'm going to bypass that for now and just share my latest...explosion...

I have been in Physical Therapy for many weeks and looking forward to closing out these sessions, and, thinking about continuing with fitness exercising which is less formal but at the same location.

At any given session, it has ranged so that I was the only one there up to there being around ten on the various machines. Every once in a while, I find myself tensing up--there are people talking, loudly. I'm thinking they should be exercising... Even as I write, I realize that the setting puts me into a work environment where I am constantly thinking about performance--and being tested on it... 

As with most activities, I tend to get totally involved and am watching how things operate--whether they are efficient, friendly but professional. Some of you may remember reading about what I went through while having my roof replaced... It had set me back into trauma, big time... Anyway, sometimes, depending on a day in general, guys might get into talking sports. And, for some reason, some men refuse to consider exactly where they are and, LOL, "don't use their inside voices..." Ok, I'm not a sports fan, but really, somebody talking loudly so that everybody else in the room can hear it bothers me. I consider it impolite--so sue me for feeling...

Other times politics has come up. Here's the thing for me. If I am talking politics with somebody I know and feel safe in expressing my views, I am okay. Other times, like yesterday. I think there were six of us there. All of a sudden, one man started talking about immigrants by the busload. Another added a comment I couldn't exactly hear (I was in a room having heat applied and in the dark and couldn't see who was talking and what was being said exactly.)

There is no way around it. In my mind. helping any immigrant seeking help brings to mind a scripture: Jesus saying, "What you do until the least of these, you do unto me..."

Now before you want to say something in response of this belief I have, I want to quickly say to you that if all people acted on these words, then there would be no need to turn people away. There are always ways to be more efficient in getting the work done to make these people feel accepted, then there would not be all the confusion...all the talk about a wall...because we would seek to feed and give as needed...

We all remember when Trump/Sessions called for a separation of children and parents. It received world-wide criticism because in doing this, there was absolutely NO planning on how it would be handled, nor accounted for, or tracked. Can we blame the parents or the children who were afraid. No, it was the past president who acted to deter those, claiming that all were criminals... yet, we know that it was based on prejudice--prejudice of the republican party. No? How else can we explain that the DACA children have never been dealt with because of the republican party's unwillingness or procrastination. These individuals are already in America, doing jobs, paying taxes...yet they are forced to to remain in fear, anger, frustration, because of a political party who refuses to work in support of America's needs, our goals...

And then I heard a female voice say, "I don't believe that anything they say about Trump is true..."

Bullshit!

Zap! I moved in Aggression, slid off the table--with the heating elements with me and the Physical Therapist running in to get them off of me...

I remember that I said something like, "I must speak Truth..."

One guy was pointing to me to say who said it... then commenting he didn't like Trump or Biden...got up and moved somewhere else... I did have the presence to stop and thank the PT and said I was feeling better...

And I moved toward the individual who in her opinion, felt that Trump was blameless... I could feel myself flashback as I turned in my sister's kitchen and saw that she had a picture of Trump's entire family on her refrigerator and could feel myself stunned.

Just how many times do we, who have done the research, do we who have heard Trump himself saying awful things about people, do we who have knowledge of the many criminal acts for which he had already been charged, seem to be swept away by somebody saying, "I don't care, I like him..." I started telling about the fact that his former financial officer was now in jail, for instance...it didn't phase her. Finally she brought up the one thing I'd heard before. I calmed down and told her I'd already checked out the issue and I could plainly see that the pic had been photoshopped... and in another that the mother was the one who took action...

But, let's face it, if somebody is willing to take things that are said and accept it as truth, then how can I, or anybody else, succeed in sharing what is actually happening and that millions are seeing what I see, but some, for whatever reason, cannot.

So, to clarify...here's the issue that started when Jeffrey Epstein was arrested... Even though research has been done and verified by Reuters, people are taking a false piece of salacious material and moved it forward to indict Biden as a pedophile. Of course he's not the only one...Don Lemon, who already lost his job...Adam Schiff, and who knows how many others? Just how far can lies and prejudicial information travel? Well, if you have no desire to confirm it yourself, it goes very far...

But then, as many of my readers know, I have already identified myself as an individual who was a victim of incest. And, believe me, I would be very sure before I even suggested it of somebody I hardly knew... Yet millions are doing it. I have watched Joe Biden in crowds. It has been pointed out to him that he was too touchy--since we are about the same age, I point to the fact that in early years of my life, touching and hugging was routinely done among friends and acquaintances. It was even studied in non-verbal communication...

And, now, a man who has been devastated by the lost of his first wife and a child is being accused, in my opinion, falsely. Indeed, the fact that Hunter Biden, who was the lone survivor of that accident, is now being accused of all sorts of things involving money and the Biden family... Doesn't that sound familiar? So, when I hear about Biden/Hunter's money, I immediately point out the significant activities, probably criminal, done by Trump's daughter and son-in-law which is in the millions... that is pushed aside with an agreement to disagree...

But, you see, folks, I can't accept lies and opinions. If I am wrong about Biden, I want to know the truth. Yet, even after I check it out, it is not enough... Truth is not what is being sought... Trump followers want to be...right...even if they are wrong and it is hurting the country...

That is why I was up late trying to get past the fact that I lost control, in a public place...and I don't regret it because I am sick and tired of being told lies upon lies upon lies and then get excuses that they don't have the time... And, yes, of course, I'm not talking just about this incident...but with my family...

Right now, I'm not sure what to do. Can I afford to go back to a place where the general public openly get into discussions, which result in somebody being upset when I speak truth? BTW, in another smaller episode, I had one lady come to me and quietly looked around, saying "They don't understand, do they?" I shook my head no. Then she said, I think Trump is evil..." I told her I did too...and then we quietly separated, at least knowing that others saw what we saw but were sometimes afraid to speak about it...

And that, folks, is living with a brain that has been affected by trauma--mine through job burnout--and  dealing with all the chaos that followed 2016, which was, as now being told about, started long before then.

I Support

Operation Saving Democracy

God Bless,

Gabbie 

 

Jesus Is Not Republican: A Secular Liberal's Adventures With Religion, Politics and Sex by Kate Rice

Look for New Group of Security professionals,  Retired Military Staff, et.al.,

 Speaking Truth!

Note: I will be adding relevant supportive videos as we are now also in a war--Against Trumpism...

Free America from Lies, Prejudice and Violence!

~~~

It was a hot and sultry July afternoon deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, where cellphone signals can’t penetrate and sun-faded Confederate flags fly. I was part of a sweating crowd listening to a preacher. We sat in a big white tent with the sides rolled up, the type of tent religious revivalists might use when they’re crying out to the Lord to save us sinners from eternal hellfire. But this preacher was very different from that stereotype. In fact, that stereotypical pastor probably would have tried to exorcise what he would consider the demons possessing the crowd I sat with. And he would have started with our preacher — one Nadia-Bolz Weber, all six feet of her, dramatic streaks of gray in her dark hair, and a big Mary Magdalene tattoo on a bicep muscular enough to make Michelle Obama jealous. She is a Lutheran minister who says crazy things like sex is good. Even if you’re not married, even if you’re gay or trans or bi. A preacher who asks, “Isn’t forgiving abusive men over and over what keeps battered women battered?” A minister whose congregants don’t fit the cookie cutter that my Holy Roller preacher — and a lot of conservative Christians — would try to make us all fit into. No, her flock included straight, gay, trans, the newly sober, the-trying-to-be-sober, the eternally — and humanly — imperfect. As she wound up her talk, the crowd stayed with her, cheering and clapping. And then she said, “C’mon up and dance with me!” My new friend Jes, her asymmetrically cut hair swinging, a wicked glint in her eye, grabbed my hand and pulled a hesitant me out of my chair. “Okay, Kate, let’s go!” she said. And we ran up to the stage together, joining dozens of others as the loudspeakers blasted Prince’s Kiss. There I was dancing and singing, surprised at how many of the lyrics I knew by this artistic genius who transcended conventional boundaries of gender, sex and identity. It was the perfect soundtrack for this crowd, some straight, some gay, some transgender, some Christian, and some, like me, not Christian at all. Whatever I had expected of a progressive Christian festival, this was definitely not it. I had had no idea of what I’d be getting into when I’d left my triplex apartment on Manhattan’s deep blue Upper West Side two days earlier. I’d taken an early morning flight out of LaGuardia to Atlanta, then boarded a zippy little Bombardier for the quick hop to the Asheville, North Carolina, airport where I picked up a rental car. Driving out of Asheville, I wound north and west on US-25, my rented Chevy Spark's feeble but valiant engine laboring up the first hills leading into the Blue Ridge Mountains, That’s when I lost my internet connection for the bulk of the weekend. My route took me through a green-as-a-tropical-jungle landscape, occasionally passing a weather-beaten house with a tattered Confederate flag rippling in a hot breeze. C’mon, man, I thought, having internal monologues with the owners of homes flying those flags. It’s been more than 150 years! You lost! Then I realized we’re still fighting that battle. And I was headed toward a very different rebel enclave, one that fights against all that that flag stands for. My destination: Hot Springs, North Carolina., so named for the 100-degree-plus mineral springs that have attracted people for centuries. It's a small town that's a handful of one- and two-story buildings on one side of a railroad track. On the other side, the Hot Springs Resort & Spa and a giant campground. That big campground was the staging area for the Wild Goose Festival, part Woodstock, part Burning Man, part South by Southwest (SXSW) and 100 percent progressive Christian. 

It’s a place where you see banners like “Who Would Jesus Torture?” and “Recovering From Religion.” Another intertwined hearts and the words “Jesus and Darwin” in a line drawing of a fish used to symbolize Christianity. Religion has always wrestled with sex in this nation. Sex is something that tempts you, gets you in to trouble. So if there were anywhere in the country where I would hear a minister talk about the joy of sex, this was it. And Bolz-Weber did not fail me. She is the founder of the House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver, Colorado, which caters to those on the margins, and a New York Times best-selling author. She gave a deliciously profanity-laced talk about her latest book, Shameless: A Sexual Reformation. Martin Luther must be spinning in his grave! I’d thought when I first saw that title. Her take on sex and Christianity was music to my ears. Christianity, in my experience, has always had a big problem with sex. You need it to propagate the species, but it’s just a little too much fun to be good on its own. At the festival, Bolz-Weber did a major league deep dive into talking about the joys of shame-free sex, cutting the bonds that religion has tied around the joy of sex. Some parts of her talk were painful. That was when she described the end of her marriage and the start of a relationship with her new boyfriend. One reason she ended her marriage was because of sex. Or rather, lack of it. Or not enough of it. I actually can't remember exactly what she said because, instead of her voice, I heard my soon-to-be ex-husband’s voice telling me roughly the same thing about our sex life and that he had no more time to put into it. Or our marriage. That hurt. Because I had put so much time and effort into that marriage. And into him. And that included trying to revive our sex life. Because I love sex. In high school, my wiry, blond, Norwegian Lutheran boyfriend and I had torrid make-out sessions in his red Barracuda on county trunk roads up on the Ridge, hills that ringed Sparta, the small Wisconsin farm town where I grew up. We’d drive up Highway 71 towards Norwalk or Highway 27 toward Cashton, two little villages, passing barns, farmyards and fields of corn and hay. Heading uphill to the Ridge, the highways pass through stands of scrub pine and oak trees and then to the top, where the roads travel along the spine of the Ridge. It’s a stupendous view of seemingly endless sky, rolling farmland dipping down into forested valleys, with the occasional Amish horse-drawn buggy clip-clopping along. Of course, we weren’t up there for the view. At the drive-in movies, we were horizontal in the front seat and making out before the previews had ended, oblivious to whatever the couple double dating with us was doing in the back seat. His older sister let us use her apartment! Major score for high schoolers! I’d bought some book packed with ideas like squirting Reddi wip on each other for a little additional fun during oral sex. It made us both giggle. We were two small-town kids too afraid to buy condoms at the local drugstore, which sat on the main intersection of downtown Sparta next to the town’s only stop-and-go light. My family’s next-door neighbor ran that drugstore. So, blow jobs and oral sex were as far as we would go. There were more boyfriends after that, in college, in the small town where I had my first full-time job as a reporter, in Aspen where one of my best friends from college and I spent a season ski bumming and, finally, grad school in New York. There, I dated a couple of Columbia College English majors looking for their Molly Bloom, heroine of James Joyce’s Ulysses. It seemed to have been a core part of their curriculum. One of them thought he’d found her in me. Except that once I discovered what I thought was the high calorie count of seminal fluid (it’s apparently fairly low in calories, I’ve since learned), I started to spit it out. A very un-Molly move, he told me, laughing. I was also very un-Molly in that I only took one lover at a time. Finally, at a party, I met the guy I would eventually marry. He was slim and tautly muscled, olive skinned, with curly black hair and gorgeous hazel eyes. He was funny, sarcastic and totally unlike any of my other boyfriends. We met once and then, not again, for months. But we became part of an informal group of twenty- and thirty-somethings who loved concerts in Central Park, hiking, skiing, cooking, eating and drinking. I called us the Outdoors Sports and Photo Op Club because we’d have parties to look at photos after our weekend adventures in those pre-digital photo days. And, boy, was he an emotionally armored guy. But when we first kissed in his apartment, I stuck my tongue in his mouth. I got his attention. He already had mine. I loved him, blindly. We moved in together and bought our first apartment. I bored my coworkers as I rhapsodized about him and my adventures with New York real estate. It was fun and wonderful. There were lots of evenings of stopping for a bottle of wine on the way home from work and cooking dinner together before crashing into bed. I loved sitting at my desk at work and smelling his musky maleness on my skin. It came from a quick morning tumble that dictated a too quick shower that couldn’t quite wash away his scent. Years went by. Marriage, kids, mortgages. I had always felt that sex in the morning would guarantee a solid marriage. I just hadn’t factored in the exhaustion of work, freelance writing, cooking, lick-and-a-promise cleaning and getting kids to skating lessons, swimming lessons, horseback riding lessons, Hebrew school and on and on and on. The result? Those encounters didn’t happen nearly often enough. And it wasn’t just kids, too many hours at work, too little time at home and not enough money. It was all the baggage we all carry. Things can be falling apart and you can still have good sex short term. But sooner or later, what’s happening in other parts of your relationship catches up with sex and overtakes it. And that is what had happened between me and the driven, sexy, funny, depressed, angry and, in his deepest depths, terrified man I’d married. Those memories kept playing in the back of my head as I listened to Bolz-Weber. A lot of what she said went straight to my wounded heart and made it feel better. She talked about an ex-boyfriend who would routinely insult her — and then worry that the squirrels in a park wouldn’t have enough to eat. I knew that bewildering combination of cruelty and kindness all too well. This talk riveted me. Bolz-Weber was fearless enough to talk — and write — about her abortion. In one of her books (I read Shameless and Accidental Saints: Finding God in All the Wrong People over the weekend and on my flight home, and Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner and a Saint as soon as I got home) she wrote about how she had always loved babies...

Kate Rice is a runner, ex-ski bum, java junkie, loyal Green Bay Packer fan and a rock’n roll singer and stand up comic who performs mostly in the shower but sometimes on stage. She is a prizewinning reporter and an activist who believes that to be a citizen of this great country is both a gift and a responsibility.
~~~

After I finished this book, I thought if I ever won the Lottery, which, of course, I wouldn't ever because I don't believe in gambling... well, anyway, if I had the money, I would buy a copy of this book for every woman and teen girl in America. While the title is somewhat misleading--it's not all about politics--and when it is about politics, it's a good book to read...LOL

Actually, much of this book is a memoir, much like I've been doing in writing my own... That is, Kate Rice travels all over the world as a reporter and activist. She writes as a secular liberal, which you may have a hard time actually knowing what that means, as you read. For, like most of all, Kate Rice grew up in church but when she begins to talk about sex, she talks exactly as I might, or you, and you, and, yes, you.

Christianity, in my experience, has always had a big problem with sex. You need it to propagate the species, but it’s just a little too much fun to be good on its own. At the festival, Bolz-Weber did a major league deep dive into talking about the joys of shame-free sex, cutting the bonds that religion has tied around the joy of sex...

And that's about when I perked up and wanted to learn more, right? Because America is so filled with sex--sexual movies, books, even ads for bread can have a sexy woman holding the slice of bread, or maybe even, spreading it thick with honey, licking her lips as she tells us that Wonder Bread is the best bread ever! Or, seriously, do we really need a female in a short skirt, dancing around a golf course, right where the ball is supposed to go in... Yes, there is such an ad, and I have no idea what it is supposed to advertise. Neither does the man's wife who takes one look at what her husband is staring at through his binoculars and walks away...

And, to me, that's exactly the point... When something involves some type of sexual innuendo, most individuals either walk away, turn the TV off...OR, sit down and watch! How many of you would say that you've never watched anything in which sexuality is part of the program? I certainly can't. Me, I'm even old enough to see how television, in particular, has moved more and more to include sex as openly as possible... So here's the basic question. If you are white, single and find yourself turned off of a church because, while chastity is the only course for teens, at the same time you hear of those in the church, who are acting on their own sexual interests, while, say, the same preacher or priest is counseling abstinence? Or you see your parents involved in parties where somebody might get a little drunk...and...

Or, is it the issue that some have a different type of preference of who to love and , heaven forbid, that individual is your own daughter or son? Do you hide in shame, refusing to accept that child or allow them to be what they tell you that they are? Homophobe?

This man was part of the original planning group of Evangelical Christians...who walked away when he saw what was planned... Is Now Activist!

~~~

Well...

Seriously, can any of us really believe that any teenager watching television will accept religious training that claims that there is to be no sex prior to marriage? Or that if you've realized that you see yourself different in any way related to your sexuality, you can bet that you will be ostracized, perhaps even physically hurt or killed--in the name of religion?

Kate Rice, early in her life, did what many young people who have and are doing daily. Turning away from the church. But that doesn't stop her from going where things are happening--strange things! Like, the attendees may be addicted to drugs or alcohol, or they are gay and with their spouses, or they are secular, but interested? Well, as you can see above, Kate went to visit what was to be a Christian event. One that she soon realized was not in any way what she had thought it would be--especially those who had gathered there! And, especially, what was discussed there!

The Love of Jesus for All...

I was once again reminded of the recent book which proclaims that Jesus does not judge (things of the earth) He loves us as we are, whether we've made bad decisions or even decided to reject some things that they had been taught in their old home church, which they had left or, perhaps, had never even been inside a church in their lives, but merely wanted to listen and maybe get a little food or fellowship...

And as I continue to explore, just as Kate Rice is doing through traveling--mine through books--(My next read is Jesus and John Wayne!) I am finding that there are many patches of those who are trying to do what they believed was their mission. To spread the word of the love of Jesus...

Rice tackles Racism, White Nationalism, Anti-Vaxers, Sexuality--various issues, Progressive Christianity and more... She writes in the first person, often adding personal anecdotes of the people who she met along the way and who added "more color" to her own perceptions and opinions. As we move toward the close, she hones in on the topic of the Evangelical Exodus. Indeed, this topic might not have been covered if it wasn't for Kate meeting Kayla Cannon who she met as they sat in a jet waiting...

Kate remembered that she was lost in thought thinking about proceeding to write this book, but then realized that the woman sitting by her wanted to chat. All of a sudden, Kate was thinking to herself, "God, did you arrange these seating arrangements?" Well, you all know that I would have called this a God Incident. But then, since Kate considered herself a secular liberal (LOL), I chuckled when I read that internal question to God...

Kayla was on her way to a business conference, leaving her baby for the first time, yet happy to have a little time for herself. As they talked Kayla openly told that she had been an Evangelical Christian, but had rejected it. 

She talked freely about her horror when ICE conducted a raid and people she worked with at a restaurant in Telluride suddenly disappeared. Anyone with half an eye in any resort area knows how many workers are Hispanic and may be undocumented, or afraid of exposing a friend or relative who is undocumented. I sat up in my seat. “ICE conducted a raid in Telluride?” I was equally horror-struck. ICE is a constant in New York, packed as it is with people of color and immigrants. But in a remote mountain town like Telluride? Only 2,500 people live there. But it is a blue enclave. People in Cortez, which is seventy miles away and also blue, but surrounded by a lot of red, talk about the Telluride hippies — although in a town where the median home price is about a million dollars, you’ve got to be a pretty capitalist hippie. ICE strikes tactically — resort towns and meatpacking towns as well as in big cities, which usually have far more diverse populations. It’s all part of its strategy to terrorize and intimidate. Kayla wasn’t afraid to talk about that, or anything else, as it turned out. Going to a secular high school and American University clearly opened her eyes to a much broader world than the one she’d been raised in. Early on, she had begun questioning the credos she’d been taught. She had an outgoing personality. She wanted to run for student council, but her conservative brethren talked her out of it. Why? She was a woman. That kind of leadership position was for men. She was realizing that “I’m a strong woman who does not fit the biblical interpretation of what a woman should be.” She pushed her parents to let her go to Rutland Public High School in Vermont because the religious school she attended did not offer the advanced placement courses she wanted to take. When she won her scholarship to American University, her parents were supportive. But, she said, they clearly worried about her move to a liberal school. Once she began attending American University, which is in Washington, D.C., she found herself intensely studying bills that were going before Congress. “Being Republican was against everything I stood for and cared about,” she realized. One of her first friends at American University was flamboyantly gay. Her religion had taught her that it was her job to tell him that his lifestyle would land him in hell. She did not. And then there were the gaping holes in the theology she’d been raised on. “The Bible talks about divine intervention,” she told me. But in a world where children starve and can be sold into the sex trade, she saw no divine intervention at all. Growing up, expressing any kind of doubt was forbidden. To doubt was to sin. She quit going to church while at college, although she continued to believe in God and still identified as a Christian. Then came the 2016 election and the swell of support among evangelical churches and their congregants for Trump. “The way the Church championed Trump, that was when I could not associate with Christianity. Period. I was also angry at how many of my friends and family didn’t talk to me for supporting Hillary,” meaning Hillary Clinton in the 2016 presidential race. Kayla lasted only two years at American University. She had long been plagued by anxiety and it peaked while she attended college. Her evangelical upbringing had taught her that everything, including things like anxiety and other emotional distress could be overcome by prayer. If she was suffering, it was because of her personal failure to fully embrace her faith. She left American to stay with a cousin attending a conservative religious school, to try praying her mental health problems away. There she met her future husband, who was attending the school. His calmness and rationality helped her enormously. They fell in love and planned to marry. He went home to Telluride, Colorado, and she returned to her family in Vermont, where her anxiety spiked. And there, with her mother’s support, despite evangelical doctrine, she finally got the professional help she needed. She and her husband continued to wrestle with faith, personally and as a couple. She sees this a lot among millennials, and some are leaving their churches. “They are sick of having to hate because of their church,” she said. And here is the problem for the religious right. Once these young people question one thing, the whole house of cards falls apart. Because, as Kayla sees it, conservative Christianity is based on absolutism and blind faith. So once there is room to question one thing, everything is open to debate. Kayla stopped associating with any kind of religion and considers herself agnostic. She is not alone. Her best friend, whom she met at a Bible school she attended, has also renounced organized religion. Twitter is a great way to find this community, she told me. Just use the hashtag #exvangelical. That hashtag reminded me of Rebeca and Charlie Seitz and their podcast, Freevangelic. These are two more people who told me the same thing. Once you ask one question, a torrent follows. I found Rebeca and Charlie on Instagram just before I went to Wild Goose. I had been using social media to connect with Wild Goose attendees, but we didn’t manage to meet during the festival. Having been reminded of the podcasters I missed at Wild Goose, I contacted Rebeca through Instagram. She is a blast, funny as hell. She can find the humor in terrible things. She told me how her parents became evangelicals. By age nineteen, her mother was married for the second time with two kids of her own plus stepchildren. It was a rough situation, Rebeca said. Neither of her parents were churchgoers, but Rebeca’s mom found a conservative church that gave her a much-needed framework to help her handle her chaotic life. Her mother does nothing halfway, Rebeca told me. She quit wearing shorts. Makeup was verboten. Rebeca compared it to someone going on a diet and throwing out everything in the pantry that has sugar or carbs. In her mom’s case, it meant every book in the house was about religion and every song she sang was religious. “My mom’s finding faith was never going to be Lutheran,” Rebeca said. This embrace of a very conservative religion startled Rebeca’s father. So he went down to the church to give that pastor a piece of his mind, or maybe even a punch in the face, according to the family story, Rebeca said. Instead, the pastor converted her father and baptized him. It was such a drastic change that it alienated almost all of Rebeca’s relatives. But it was the world into which Rebeca was born, and she knew nothing else. Rebeca grew up memorizing the Bible. When she hit adolescence, her mother handed her a book by the right-wing guru James Dobson, Everything You Need to Know About Adolescence, and it was all about female subservience, Rebeca recalled. ) You may recall, I've reviewed another of his books, Dare to Discipline, where he encourages use of physical punishment for children.) You can’t call boys or ask boys out. You can’t wear anything low cut. Your makeup has to look natural. There was an emphasis on your body because it was the temple of the Lord. But your sexuality was not about women, it was about how women related to men. Rebeca matured physically early. “I was very well-endowed from sixth grade on,” she remembered. Ultimately, she had a breast reduction. But throughout her childhood and adolescence, her family lectured her on her appearance. “Don’t put on lipstick; don’t look like a hussy.” A man sexually abused her when she was eleven. “What were you wearing?” her mother asked when Rebeca went to her. And it happened again and again, in high school and in college. The response was always something to the tune of “you probably asked for it...” 

And, of course, Kate had to include the personal thoughts of the Reverend about the time when Trump had protestors gassed so he could have a photo op...

Rev. Gerbasi was there. She had been on St. John’s patio, which had become a refuge and an aid station for demonstrators. She’d been handing out water to demonstrators when riot police descended upon her, chasing her from her own church. Shortly after the incident, she talked about her experience in an interview on Unholier Than Thou. This was a podcast produced by Crooked Media, originators of Pod Save America, whose politically savvy (they’re former Obama staffers) and bitingly funny hosts have had some fun remembering times when Democratic candidates have clumsily tried to assert that God guides them. In that podcast. she told host Phillip Picardi about her anger. She was coldly angry about the way Trump subverted her church and I think she epitomized the anger driving many Christians who are outraged at how the right has co-opted Christianity. Gerbasi trained first as a lawyer and had to overcome a lot of interior resistance in order to become a priest — it sounds as though one part of her dragged the other part of her kicking and screaming into the holy orders. I think it was that same voice that Sylvia Clahchischilli heard, the nilch’iyazhi. Gerbasi described those conversations as talking with God, who, she said, has a sense of humor. Hey, I like that!

There is so much we don't know about our God Almighty! But there are many people talking, writing and sharing about what their personal experiences have brought into their lives. And, many, like Kate Rice concluded, Jesus is Not Republican.

God Bless,

Gabbie

It's Monday, Time to Hear from Robert Sells Providing His Political Thoughts! Hate, Violence--Primary Acts of GOP Supporters?

An event recently occurred that should cause shivers of fear in every American. There was a Nazi rally in Florida.

Because Donald has adopted many of the techniques of Hitler, he has endeared himself to the ultra-right. Donald has done nothing to decry their support. In fact, he has actually openly courted their support. For example, he invited Nick Fuentes, a neo-Nazi to dinner.

When pressed to disavow a Nazi rally in Charlottesville, Donald said there were “good people” on both sides. When pushed to condemn white supremacist and militia groups during a presidential debate, he actually said "Proud Boys, stand back and STAND BY." Presently many of this group are serving long prison sentences for their role in the January 6th insurrection. Regarding that insurrection, Donald has frequently referred to the ultra-right criminal participants as “good people” and said that, when elected in 2024, he would pardon many, perhaps most of the criminals who violently participated in trying to overturn our democracy.

Many in the GOP (Gross Oligarch Party) will say that this Nazi rally had nothing to do with Donald. Wrong! It had much to do with Donald. His violent rhetoric and ugly name-calling resonates with and empowers these demented people. If they didn’t have the backing of Der Fuhrer, they would be less numerous and less open about their hatred of Jews, people of color, and immigrants.

Oh, and by the way, this Nazi rally took place in front of the Disney Springs entry-way with anti-LGBTQ flags and signs. Really. They were demonstrating in front of Disney! Later a larger group marched through the streets of Orlando wearing matching uniforms (red shirts, black masks and black pants), waving swastika flags, performing Hitler salutes and shouting hateful messages that included “White power” and “Jews will not replace us.”

Yes, Donald. There must have been “good people” in these groups as well.

~~~

l rea

7

Here is the man who MAGA cheers for and wants to have back as our president--Violence, Lies and Prejudice:

Prosecutors of the indictments: “If You Go After Me, I'm Coming After You!”

Soccer star: “Nice shot Megan, the USA is going to Hell!!!”

Pelosi: “She is a Wicked Witch whose husband’s journey from hell starts and finishes with her. She is a sick & demented psycho who will someday live in HELL!”

His former VP: “'Liddle' Mike Pence, a man who was about to be ousted as Governor of Indiana until I came along and made him V.P., has gone to the Dark Side.”

Women: “Grab ‘em by the pussy.”

Employee: “When you give a crazed, crying lowlife a break, and give her a job at the White House, I guess it just didn’t work out. Good work by General Kelly for quickly firing that dog!”

Then, of course, there is Donald being unquestionably the greatest poor loser of all time: “THE ELECTION WAS RIGGED!”

Ahh, MAGA this is your man, your savior, your Fuhrer. MAGA. Be proud. Because the rest of America and the world find him despicable and dangerous to our democracy.

~~~

On the Other Hand...

Robert Sells, Author and Political Commentator is a regular contributor to Book Readers Heaven

The Jay Razor Series by Deon Hayes - Urban Fiction At Its Finest - Tribute to the First and Last Book in Series - Playlist - Deon, Hope You're Still Writing in Heaven...

 

“Oh, yeah, I feel you. I spent years just thinking, and reading, and honestly my only escape was dreaming and through books. You see, when I read, I would see myself as the people I’m reading about and I envision that it’s me that’s doing whatever it is they’re doing. Now I’m no longer that caged bird. I’m flying, living my dream, and living life by my own set of rules. I’m a slave to nothing, but a master of all my mind can conceive.” 

“Wow, that’s deep. That’s what I love about you; you know what you want and you know how to go about getting it, and that’s real.” 

“Look, Heidi, we’re only here for a short period of time. This life isn’t guaranteed to nobody, so it’s a must you do the damn thing while you’re here. All the time you spend bullshitting and fucking up is time wasted, no doubt. Just like a bad relationship; it’s pointless.” 

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I once heard that saying, ha, yeah, that’s funny.”  “You believe that shit?” “Yeah, kinda.” “Baby, that’s bull. God don’t make trash! If a man makes you feel that low, he was never a man in the first place. A man is strong, caring,responsible and loving towards his family. If a man feels he needs to break you down to make himself feel more like a man, then he was lacking in a few of those qualities himself.” 

“Hey, you feel like going to the diner for some coffee?” “Sure, babe, we can do that.” “Cool, well, let me jump into the shower first and then we out!” 

While Jay was in the shower, Heidi got a call from Mark. “Hey, girl, why haven’t I seen you in awhile?” “Mark, baby, I’ve been busy, but we can get together tonight. Is that cool?” “Yeah, meet me over at my crib in about ten minutes. Got it? And Yo, don’t keep me waiting, alright?” he barked his order. “Come on, baby. You know I would never keep you waiting; I’ll be there.” She ended the call. 

Jay got out the shower. “So, Heidi, you ready?” Jay had the water running but had come back out to retrieve a towel and had overheard the whole conversation so now he just wanted to see how she would squirm her way out of it. 

“Jay, baby, I’m going to have to take a rain check on that coffee. Something’s come up unexpectedly, so I have to run. Is that cool?” 

“No problem. It is what it is.” Jay walked past her and headed towards the car. She seemed a little pissed. “You’re not going to even ask why?” 

“Heidi, the set of rules I live by won’t allow me to.” “Really, Jay, and what kinda rules are these?” “Don’t ask for the truth if you’re not ready for it or you don’t want to hear a lie!” “Oh, so now I’m a liar huh?” 

“Okay, just this once. I’ll humor you. What came up all a sudden, Heidi?” he said with a sarcastic tone. “My mom wants to hang out and watch movies so I’m staying here. That’s all. Why, what did you think?” she asked, looking down at the floor. “Oh, you’re really going to play this thing through huh? Well, I know for a fact that’s bullshit! But like I said before it is what it is. I mean, really, your mom can’t wait for you to have a cup of coffee?” 

“Jay, I don’t spend that much time with my mom as it is. Damn, can I do this one thing?” “Like I said, are you ready?” “Yes, Jay, let’s go!” Minutes later she was dropping him off at his truck. Jay sat in her car until she got jumpy. “Damn, must be some movie. I’ll let you go so you can meet him, I mean, her. 

See ya!” She tried to kiss him on the lips, he dodged it and slammed the door. He didn’t even turn around to wave at her. She rolled down the window and yelled, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” He held up the peace sign and said nothing...

Deon Hayes was a native of Bronx NY. He was a happily married family man and a father of four children; one son and three daughters who were all born in Philadelphia, PA. Besides writing in his spare time, he loved spending time with his family and shooting pool with his friends. When asked about sports, Hayes loved Boxing, Basketball, and Football in that order. He also loved reading books and responding to his fans.

~~~

After thousands of books read, I met with a first, for me, I had been a member of the Gettin' It Facebook group and noticed the book cover of The Jay Razor Series. I thought I would read Deon Hayes book, since it was the first in series. I had already started to pull things together for my review when I saw that Deon Hayes, the author, had died recently. My heart immediately went out to his family. I have learned that he was just 27. However, I can attest to the fact that Deon would have had a future writing career, and, undoubtedly, a successful series. In fact, I had already gone out once the first book was read to get the next, only to see that it wasn't yet published. I decided I wanted to go ahead and review the book and post as normal. And include his full and extensive playlist that was used, practically from the first page of the book. For now, I'll stop to include the memorial song used on his memorial page...

https://www.knoxhighmortuary.com/obituary/Deon-SkeenoHayes

I had so many questions, thoughts and awareness as I finished the book, which was to be the first in a series about a boy named Jay Razor. Jay was just 17 when we first meet him as the book opens. Jay was frustrated, roaming around, unable to sleep, wanting to "do" something, but stuck in a prison they called a boys' home. He'd been having night sweats and bad dreams from memories that just wouldn't go away. He paced around his bed, hemmed in and suddenly stopped. 

I thought to myself, This can’t be life. I need something to look forward to. I felt like an unwanted stray that had been left on his own, similar to Oliver Twist in the Charles Dickens story. Without giving it a second thought, I reached under my bed, grabbed my book bag, and began packing. I grabbed the three hundred dollars that I hustled from some of the younger boys. It’s now or never. I’m ready to leave this filthy prison they call a boys’ home.

I knew about bad dreams, so I began to sympathize, but already knew that the type of dreams young Jay would be talking about were bound to be extremely different than mine which was caused by job burnout... Let's face it, there are many issues in America that is sadly affecting many of us, and, sadly, most of the Black Race. I went back to view the video of pictures of young Deon, who played football, and was in the navy...and clearly was loved by his family. So I find I am spending more time associating the boy Deon in his book, to the life of Jay.  I would have liked to have had the opportunity to meet Deon through his books, like I always do... I'll miss knowing about the life that Jay had...

For Jay was now free from the boys' home and on his own. Jay was a good-looking guy, surely, because the girls and women seemed to notice him. And, in his freedom, he met a young girl who seemed to match what he saw as his future lifestyle... For one, she immediately did her thing and went out and loaded up on new clothes for Jay--that was her grift, and she had never got caught, so she was dressed to...kill... The final story of Heidi turns dark quickly after she had left Jay to go meet another guy...

While Jay was into local hood passive money making activities, movin' cars, getting them in and out of the area and sellin' high. Jay soon had made a contact with a chop shop, plus a local gang and was promising a minimum number of vehicles hitting the shop. Money began to pour in and everybody was happy with the new moneyman, even if he was only 17 goin' on 18...

But Jay was in just for big bucks while playing it cool... But it got rough early when a guy tried to move in to his girl..

They finished their ice cream as they walked back through the park heading towards the truck. When they got to their truck this guy and this girl were leaning up against it. “Yo, excuse me. That’s my truck you’re leaning up against, if you’ll excuse us?” Jay stated, annoyed. The guy brushed Jay off, while he continued to lip lock with his girl. Pam looked on to see how Jay was going to handle this. “Dude! Don’t take this there. Get the fuck off my truck!” Jay yelled with venom dripping from his words. He stopped and looked up, “Yo, kid! You and your little friend need to go play somewhere ‘cause I’m busy.” Jay became furious by the level of disrespect the guy showed him and his face turned blood red. As he went into a rage, he spit out his razor into his hand. The guy had his hands around his girl; Jay took the razor across both his hands as the guy let out a loud scream. Everyone close by turned to look. The guy reached towards Jay but Jay moved with cat-like speed and attacked again. His girl saw the blood streaming down his arms. She started to scream, and Jay dipped the guy’s arm as he sliced him again from his wrist to his elbow. While he grabbed his new wound, Jay went across his face. He fell to the ground in pain as Jay stepped over him and got into his truck. As the shock ran off of Pam’s face, she quickly ran around and climbed inside as they pulled off. They rode along in complete silence. Once back at the hotel, Jay picked up the bloody razor off the front seat and went up the stairs. Pam thought to herself, I know he isn’t going to keep that? Jay went straight to the closet and pulled out a bottle of some kind of solution in a box and then he put the razor in it and it started to fizz. “Jay, what the heck is that?” “It’s a sterile solution; it get my razors clean like new!” “Are you telling me you’re going to put that razor you just sliced that man up with, back into your mouth?” “Well, not right now, but yeah. This is the stuff doctors clean their tools with! he bragged. Hey, I’m about to jump into the shower.” “Well, when you get out I’m going to take a bath. You want to get a movie? They have a few new ones on the list we can order.” “Yeah, yeah do they have Scarface on there?” “Sure, you want me to order that?” “No doubt. Hey, you feel like running to the store and getting us a bag of popcorn?”

And there you have it, Jay got his name by holding a razor in his mouth, always ready to...slice...and dice... And then went back for a shower...and...  prayer.

He let the hot water work its magic to relieve the stress from the fight. He thought about the guy he had just fucked up for life. He tapped his head, stomach, left shoulder, then right shoulder as he looked up, “God, I’m not sorry for what I’ve just done. I can’t live my life with regrets. It was either him or me, and I’m good. Amen.” Jay put his hands on the wall to let the hot water run down his back while brainstorming his next hustle. He quickly snapped out of thought when he heard Pam come back in. He soaped up, rinsed off, and got out. He washed out the tub and started Pam’s bath water. He walked out with his towel around his waist. “Hmm, what you got there?” Pam licked her lips. “I started running your bath water for you, he said while looking in the bag she had just got from the store, Hey, what else you got in here?” “I got your Slim-Jim and your Snapple peach tea!” “Cool that’s what I’m talking about. Well, go in there and take your bath so we can kick back and chill,” Jay ordered as he looked over at the cell phones charging. He went over and unplugged one then went over to his bag. 

And there you have the dichotomy of our main character, Jay Razor! He moved from being held in by society that would not help him except stick him in a boys home where he grew restless, certainly having been in danger often, and yet had little done to ensure he was prepared to enter into the adult phase of his life. He taught himself to always be prepared to keep himself safe by slowly learning how to maneuver a two sided razor blade in a corner of his mouth, so that he could whip it out whenever he needed...

And he used it only when absolutely necessary, at least for how he evaluated the specific situation, and then said a little prayer to God about what happened and his feelings about it... Almost daring God to disagree with his assessment, don't you think?

Jay was a boy/man who had the brains to move forward in any effort he would make, yet chose crime, at least until he had enough money to get where he wanted to me... Jay did what he had to do to protect the few friends he had made, but thought nothing if those with whom he'd been working started getting jammed up and were caught in death's grip...

And would just add that he'd have to pray about them as he left...

Jay loved music, ice cream and other junk food to watch with movies or he played both hip hop or pulled out from his collection of old soul players like Sam Cook, dependent upon his mood, or if he was sharing with his girl...

Or any other girl or woman who let Jay know that she was into him...

This Urban Fiction book contains many sex scenes, as well as an ongoing story of Jay's movements toward making him a rich man... And then? Well, sad to say that the book ends as a cliff hanger.... One that all of us will find, maybe, more than usual, since the series ended prematurely... thinking about how the story would move on...

So... I've added my own ending...Jay and his lady will continue on, finally walking away from all of the dangerous situations... and becoming just ordinary people... Perhaps a love story, not unlike any other?

For surely the music played gives the impression of Jay being in love, don't you think?

But here's how he ends.... in song...

He grabbed Jay’s hand and held it as he looked at Lulu. “He will have no fear of bad news. His heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. His heart is secure; he will have no fear and in the end he will look in triumph on his foes.” 

“That’s Psalm one twelve, verses seven and eight.” “You love the Bible huh?” Lulu asked Noah “Sweetheart, because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live.” Noah finished. “That’s Psalm one sixteen, verse two.” 

Jay shook his hand goodbye; Lulu did the same as they jumped into the truck and headed out. “So Jay, baby, why didn’t you tell me you were into the Bible like that?” 

“I’m not. I’m just a person who would rather know a little bit of everything, than a whole lot of nothing, feel me?”

~~~

This is a fascinating story of a young man who learns early that it will be a hard life without money, and is smart enough to figure out how to get enough to build a life. I am taking the liberty to share that the first thing he buys is a house for he and his girl... 

One thing I should mention, some of the videos on the playlist may not come through due to YouTube restrictions, but I wanted to include them so that you can, if you wish, click over to hear those that may not play here. I have to admit that my preference was for those older songs which were popular in my earlier years... Sam Cook, Marvin Gaye and others who sing words that just about any woman wants to "swoon" on... And that, dear readers, is also still listed in the Urban Dictionary as a very good thing... I hope you all will enjoy this post... And, like I said, in the Heading, I hope Deon is settled in his new golden threads and is writing stories for the angels now...

God Bless,

Gabbie