#assisting

One version of the Triple Moon Goddess is Hecate, Ceres and Persephrone/Kora.

"No, but I may be assisting."

I come to you in an hour of need. I'm aware of how helpful this Community is and have enjoyed being part of it under several different usernames throughout time. In the last two years my health has drastically gone downhill and we have found out that it was due to my biological mother drinking for 6 months while pregnant with me. As my health declines further I've set up a GoFundMe as I'm now disabled but still navigating the Social Security System. My business has suffered as well. Tomorrow 7/14 I face a surgery to attempt repairing one wrist and will not be able to use my right arm for a minimum of 6 weeks. This means no income. I need assistance and have tapped out all financial resources in the past 4 months. I've managed to raise a little money of my $500 initial goal but it's now been over a month since that time. Please read my story below and I hope you find it in the kindness of your heart to share this post, or even donate! Thank you so much everyone!

"Hello all, my name’s Michael & I was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) due to my biological mother consuming alcohol on a regular basis for 6 months while pregnant with me.  People with FAS suffer from partial brain & physical damage. Our life expectancy is shorter than the average person & without proper intervention life expectancy is around 37. We are often victimized, sexually assaulted, & taken advantage of & all three happened to me as a child & young adult. Due to FAS, I struggled in school with ADHD, understanding mathematical concepts, reading music, was mentally naïve, & struggled socially. I had to attend speech therapy, had severe separation anxiety, have my metabolism monitored, & when I was 3 I sat in the middle of a room without even moving for three hours.

At 15, my knees would lock into place & pop painfully. My muscles ached daily. My wrists & jaw could pop out of place. I’d have random asthmatic like issues, couldn’t control my appetite & would unintentionally regurgitate everything I ate. A surgery on my wrist in 2008 would only be a temporary fix. In 2019 I started to rapidly decline. After seeing my primary doctor about it, I have now had more doctor visits than I can count & have been seen by 31 different doctors & take 25 different medications daily.

I now require several surgeries. My care team & I are in the process of disability and can no longer work a normal job. I struggle to get out of bed at times & at 31-years-old I use a walker & cane to assist on days I can barely move. Even with these I need to use compression clothing at times. Braces for my ankles, knees, & wrists are needed at times. In a 36-hour time frame I was admitted to the ER 3 times due to abdomen complications. Today I have been diagnosed with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity Syndrome, Impingement Syndrome of the Shoulder Region, Ulnar Abutment Syndrome of Both Wrists, Hearing Loss of Right Ear, Arthralgia, Chondromalacia Patellae of Right Knee, Osteoarthritis of Left Sternoclavicular, Primary Osteoarthritis of Both Knees, Cartilage Disorder, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, Sleep Disorder, Anxiety, Moderate Episode of Recurrent Major Depressive Disorder, Binge Eating Disorder, & PTSD.

Due to the disability process, I can’t work a job & SSI has not been approved yet. The ADRC is helping. My unemployment has been pending for 2 months. My significant other & I have used up any money we had saved & been selling things just to pay bills & take care of our cat. Medical bills, insurance bills, & utility bills are behind & we also need help with gas to get to my appointments, to pay for my meds, certain procedures/equipment needed, & to keep our internet & electricity on as we no longer have funds. I am raising money to help pay my bills & anything can help just to get through." - Originally Posted 6/5/21

In The Gap

“Before they call I will answer; while they are yet speaking I will hear.” Isaiah 65:24ESV

As my fiftieth wedding anniversary nears on December 13, I’ve decided to give you glimpses of history BC and after Christ.

The year was 1968. I began suffering from PTSD. Cause? My now ex-husband had been gone for two months. When he returned, he wanted to reconcile, acting like nothing had happened. He stole our daughter from the babysitters, refusing to give her back. Ten days passed. With no money to file divorce papers; I couldn’t get my daughter, via court. I agreed to go for a coney dog run with them.

Chuck picked me up at my parents home. He drove around for an hour, until our daughter fell asleep. After forcing me out of the car, he raped me. Opening up the trunk, he pulled out a semi-automatic .22 caliber rifle. I was trying to get to my daughter. Pushing me away, he leveled the rifle on my chest.

I don’t remember screaming, “Jesus.” Yet, out of no where came speed, (faster than a speeding bullet), and strength enough to overpower the former Marine. The bullets passed harmlessly between my legs, until the chamber was emptied.

Somehow I lived. Chuck forced me into the car: threw the rifle into the river off the bridge; then drove to my uncle’s house. Mostly naked, he forced me out, leaving my daughter behind in the car.

I walked into my uncle’s house totally hysterical, unable to speak coherently. The police came. Chuck had waited there, and given them our daughter. They didn’t arrest him— no evidence— raping a wife wasn’t a crime either.

Nightly, I awakened screaming. Reliving the scene over and over. Being drunk was the only thing, which kept me sane from the daytime monsters. Those nightmares were more than enough to suffer through. The me, inside myself, changed, living in fear.

Mother knew in her spirit something terrible was happening, when I didn’t return before dark. She stood in the gap praying for my safety. The unique thing— before she cried out to Jesus, everything was playing out. Over the years, I’ve come to learn the text scripture was truth in action. God saw. He protected before Mom prayed, using her words, because He lives outside of time.

Many times Christians get a feeling— PRAY— for a certain person. Do we pray right then? God uses our words spoken out in prayer to create help, assisting whomever is being prayed for. My scenes could’ve had a much different ending, without prayer.

PTSD destroys lives. Fear of sounds, (I still cannot watch videos or movies containing shootings.) Fears of smells, colors, light or darkness, clothing, even being in a confined area. Thousands of people suffer PTSD from different causes, i.e. extreme or violent fighting between parents, war, rape, violent crimes, trafficking, etc. Lives are altered forever. Prayer opens the door for answers for each individual victim. Understanding and love helps give a cushion of comfort.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you more of the story. In the meantime, will you commit to pray for suffers of PTSD? I added four to my prayer list this past week.  I’m realizing there’s multiplied thousands more than I’d considered previously, as I added other groups in through my studies. Reliving hell again and again is horrid. Please, can you help me pray for all these sufferers of PTSD? It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Holy God, our minds are fearfully and wondrously made. Only You know how to heal, and deliver people out of the bondages of these fears coming through PTSD. Deliver and set free these captives, in Jesus’ name I pray.

The smell of my stench was comforting.

That is not something I wanted to consider knowing

yet I understood how much inauthentic smells overwhelmed me negatively,

thus it does make a logic sensical to me. 

I did not understand how ingratiatingly numb I had become

until the shower was this fear I held as my body ached without a bathtub.

To hear my uncle calling to the walls keeps me out of that side of inside the box until moontime and then I must care for myself in ways I can’t make sense of.  The mornings begin at 3 am and by 10 am I wonder how many yesterdays away morning was with my caffeine intake.

“Are you my moontime mother?”

I will forever ask those who do not desire to destroy themselves whilst bleeding.  It aches as though I am being kicked, yet worse than being kicked from the outside.  It is agony from the inside and days before... maybe a week before: my body revolts and tells my mind it is time to maybe die.