nccotus

I used to say that I came to faith through the back door—through fear of Satan. Because of a relationship with a Satanically possessed person here near the City of Reading 38 years ago when I was held through a scrape with near death.

I didn’t realize until TODAY the extent of it.

it started early in my life where we were all left ill attended through my mothers illness after an ectopic pregnancy. She was left in such a weak condition with congenital mental illness at only 20 years old with 2 tiny children in a country at war with her British spirit. My father did not know how to attend.

I had this fatal attraction to the Grateful Dead song, “Friend of the Devil.” I have laundered out some of the serious chaff issues in my childhood but this thread has become apparent to me only today.

I have been a problem pundit in national politics in a way that I couldn’t address because they would have exterminated me for it but I now have the source and have corrected it.

I had the most insanely pungent wit that was so hurtful to others—friends and foes alike. I never meant anything by it and I repented of it but the sting lingered.

my mother commented generally that being good, clean, et cetera, is boring. I am not now afraid to grab this bullet and relinquish it.

my “wit” was Satanically generated.

the most recent, clearly Satanically generated incident is what I am being held here at the point of death for today: I compared the cats cornering a chipmunk behind the couch as “with the guile of a Nancy Pelosi.” Ordinarily I wouldn’t repeat the remark but in this case it is warranted because of the lengths that the government has gone to to exterminate me in this regard.

At this point I am just barely saved from a 9 months untreated Urinary Tract Infection with several related conditions under the guise of an apparently benevolent ALF community where I go to bed every night fearing gang rape.

other instances include a remark to one of my college roommate as I was departing in dishonor after the presidency of the undergraduate literary magazine and a negative story I write “about roommate tensions” freshman year with a roommate who then stuck herself with me until senior year.

These things affected me so seriously in a way I didn’t know until much later. I hung onto the words not knowing to relinquish them or how to. There were so many other instances of harm, some quite bizarre. They are pouring through my mind as I write.

I am asking the Lord to be healed of this condition in my soul. To be a loving and kind human being. For my son’s sake as well as mine.