Finally:))))))

I hate Mercy Me’s song “I can only imagine”, oh my gosh I can’t stand that song!!!! I may be stepping on some toes here but I’m sure that every single one of you has at least one song which you hate passionately, even if that song is from a Christian genre. Mine is “I can only imagine”, it scrapes my brains with static noise and makes me want to scream in pain.

Christian genre has a tendency to put a sad twist to most songs (even if they have an encouraging message) unless you’re Toby Mac or Mandisa;) Which begs the questions: Are all the Christians in this world miserable? Christians don’t love to dance and have a good time celebrating life? I know that’s not true, but if you were to judge the christian faith by the songs alone you would think that God is the saddest aspect of life, void of fun, a sense of humor and good taste.

There is a time to grieve, a time to encourage, a time to be a shoulder for someone to cry on and there’s a time to simply celebrate!!!!!! To jump up and dance because life is good, not perfect and definitely not void of challenges, but good none-the-less. So here’s a song I can finally get up and dance and thank God for my life, despite the fact that I have an infection that’s scrambling my brain in a galactic amount of pain. However when I listen to these types of songs I smile, I laugh and I keep on telling myself: It’s just pain, Carmen, not the end of the world, just pain.

Hope you enjoy this particular song as much as I am and have a great time dancing through or despite the challenges in your life because life is good:)

God Bless:)

Balance Prayer

This is a prayer for myself and anyone else who wants it:)

I thank you, God, for the ability to forgive and the gift of forgiveness. Until recently I couldn’t forgive no matter how I went about it, not sure why, but I presume it had to do with the hate taking all the space available in my heart leaving no room for anything else, including forgiveness or joy.

Thank you for breaking that hard calcified wax of hate towards others and myself and melting it away from my soal. Now I have room for forgiveness, love, and joy. Now I can forgive myself and others; sure it’s still an effort, sure it’s still my will and choice but I have the power to choose now versus being stuck within my sick soul with no way out except a continuous and exhaustingly constant squirming and no progress other than fatigue. I earnestly thank you now for giving me the parents I have, for bringing me to this part of the world, for my family, and for giving me the body I have. What tremendous spectacular things I’ve learned because of these privileges and what great privileges I have to help others.

Thank you for waking me up to my potential by revealing to me my fears, fears that captured me in a self-restraining smuggled dark suit all these years. By showing me these fears and their consequences, you opened up the eyes of my soul to the things I’ve missed and the opportunities not taken if choosing to remain in that snuggled dark suit called fear.

I will choose life, love, and joy. I will risk opening up and be vulnerable in order to gain these three qualities. I will re-learn and re-direct my focus, thoughts, and behaviors in order to experience the consequences of life, love, and joy. In my quest, I will fail sometimes but I will get up and continue because my focus has shifted. I finally see that I have the right to experience life, love, and joy, a right you gave me a long time ago but was taken away by other’s fears only to be recently recaptured.

It’s a re-learning process based on the truth that what others said or did in order to keep me down was based on their own insecurities and fears, not mine. Their walls, not mine. I thank you, Father God, for opening not only my eyes but my soul as well to accept this, for acceptance is the bridge between success and failure. In the past, I’ve accepted false versions of someone’s truths and it brought nothing but a vast desert in my soul, now I will accept your truth to choose life, love, and joy. After all, that’s the definition of balance. Not one without the other, not one over the other. Balance. Truth. This time your truth and let’s see what that brings along and where will it end.

Amen.

 

 

Protest

Last weekend the annual women’s protest happened again and besides hatred towards the current president and the right to abort an unborn baby, I’m not quite sure what else are they protesting for, because the last time I checked we still lived in America where women have far more rights than most women combined in other parts of this world.

Personally, the vaginal hats and F*** signs are extremely insulting to me, but don’t worry that does not define me as a woman; my children do, my husband does and other things that have nothing to do with profanity and genital hats.

I’ll tell you a story- my story.

I was born with few health issues.

For one thing, my reproductive organs did not fall into place as they should’ve and my mother was told I would not be able to have children.

My Fontanella (the soft spot between the parietal bones and frontal bone) was bulged out- the doctor said I was going to be a retard or an idiot, in other words neurologically I was going to be slower than the norm. The Fontanella it looked and felt like jello and my mother hardly touched me for the first few months after birth for fear of hurting me further. So I lacked the bonding time, very important and necessary to a healthy development, but life was different back then and information was lacking.

I also had a severe vitamin D deficiency and I began having regular shots of vitamin D right away that lasted a whole year. These were among the issues that were visible right away and the doctor pressured my mother to have me aborted after I was born, worried that my quality of life would be a burden to the medical system and Marxist society in which I was born. I was a defect product and needed to be discarded so I would not become a useless eater. My mother vehemently refused.

“God’s will be done.” She tolled herself accepting the outcome, but if I wasn’t going to recover I was in danger of a “vaccine shot” that was nothing short of a euthanize method. I did recover.

At home, I grew up in pretty harsh poverty, mostly between the age of 5-19. We went many days in “involuntarily fasting” whether we liked it or not, but for that now some of us are rounder than we’d like to be:) God, yes God, took care of us. That is what I choose to believe, despite the skepticism of others.

We also went through physical and emotional trauma, abuse and at times torture methods until the day each and every one of us left home. Emotionally, if we give way the emotional abuse would continue to this very moment, but all of us have chosen peace, so we have departed from the source of the abuse.

So from many people’s modern standards of today, I should’ve been aborted. After all I had too many physical issues putting a burden on the family or society, I was born in extreme poverty (Eastern Europe poverty), and raised in a very abusive family environment. I fit most of the reasons given for an abortion, right?

Yet, I’m thankful for every day on this earth despite its hardships. I thank God every day for his love towards me shown mostly through other people, some of which are reading these words. We see the goodness in others. We see hate in others as well. So choose. I’ve chosen. I stand for life.

I do not judge anyone who had an abortion- I wasn’t in your shoes when you made the decision and it’s not my place to judge what I don’t know. But I do know the fetus is a living being and I’ve always fought for the underdog. Its just part of my character and I will continue to do so.

God Bless.

 

Red-A Philosophical self-talk-

I’ve begun reading “The Naked Communist” by W. Cleon Skousen and it’s not an easy task for me as flashbacks from my own experience while living through the last of the communist era, back in Romania, rise up.

I’ll let you know in my up and coming posts some similarities that I see in the America of today and communist tactics I’ve experienced while back home. This is a subject that I would love to capture it with my brother Alin’s philosophical point of view and have a recorded debate on the matter. It would be both entertaining and informative… and done in our native Romanian language. But not yet.

Today, after bleeding for the past 27th days, and clearly a little lightheaded from losing so much blood, I become philosophical:) (I have an appointment tomorrow with gynecology.)

I was truly hoping 2018 to be void of doctors, pain, pocking, needles and medical stress, thus hid the bleeding issue for as long as I could. Thanks to Elizabeth I did end up going to a Zoom clinic and thanks to my mother-in-law’s insistence I finally made a gynecology appointment. I must admit I struggle emotionally. I’m fighting with a Marxist syndrome, a disease in itself, and trying to grasp a truth as seen through my husband’s eyes, a reality built on being born here in America. I like his view so much better than mine, but in reality, it seems to be just a beautiful fairy-tale I like to listen to often. I have changed quite a bit living here in America, for the better I think, but when disease keeps on knocking at the doors of my soul, the old Marxism rises up debating loudly while trying to win.

When one becomes sick and unable to provide for the motherland (this can be geographically anywhere the mind goes) a man’s value disappears, thus he is no longer needed, according to the communism/marxism laws. If you can’t produce you’re no more than a useless eater (Hitler, Communism movement, Margaret Sangers, Darwinism are the best known for this type of thinking). Raised in that type of thinking, I automatically think like that. Back in Romania, you can see this in divorces, affairs,  abuse, neglect, blame, and shame, after one becomes sick vs. here in America, where you see support systems, encouragement, and fighting until the end on behalf of a loved one. (This is a generalized point of view based on the majority of cases, for I have seen harsh consequences following the tragedy of loss or disease here in America as well).

“Oh well, at least they’ll not be a burden to the family now. The sooner they die the better. This is God’s judgment for your sins, your father’s sins, your children’s sins, etc.” Are some of the more normal expressions as a response to any disease in Eastern European culture. (Eastern Europe has migrated into other lands and that philosophy can very well follow.)

In America that differs: “What else can we do, doctor? You’ll get better. Focus on getting better. Don’t worry about the money, you’re more important,”  to name a few, not to mention all the “Go Fund Me” types of support.

To top it all off, I’m a woman, raised and tolled in my formative years to believe that I matter less than the life of a dog, born to please a man only and nothing else. Now here’s the tricky part, this belief was preached loudly from the churches pulpits, all done by males, not communism. In communism law (gender or age didn’t matter, you simply didn’t have value). In Romania, I was nothing else but a Christian woman (that’s not a compliment:) to be used and abused than tossed aside when no longer needed or able to perform my duties- at least that would’ve been my lot in life if I would’ve remained there. (Not all men are cruel, alcoholics or abusive in Romania, but most are). I know great Romanian men that are very decent and loving to their wives, their children and in general to everyone else around.

Now, don’t you worry about me, God’s helped me heal quite a lot from many of these issues, by providing proof of ignorance, instability, indoctrination, culture and a theory (Marxism) based on violence and narcissism (read about Marx’s own pathetic life, his example as a father and husband, and his inability to live up to his own theology). I’m healing, that’s why I can start talking about some truths without disintegrating and with a healthier perspective. Now let’s move on.

Its been only God’s presence and patience, working either directly in my heart or through people such as Chet, my parents-in-law, Elizabeth, my Romanian friends and so many other people I know,  that helped me heal. My siblings have been the biggest help, other than Chet. Chet wants to help but it takes someone who went through hell and back with you to understand the darkness you must heal from. I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. There are far too many that have seen an even greater darkness than I have.

In the days when I’m not feeling well it’s easier to fall into that autopilot old way of thinking, yet, those same days are the ones healing me and teaching me some of the best lessons about myself and life itself.

Why have I let the lies of others (religion, a devil, etc, call it anything you want) take such residence in my heart for so long? Guilt and ignorance of the truth.

I’m dying. (I’m being dramatic here) We all are. Some faster than others. But I’m the one who decides if I’m going to help the evil end my own existence with feelings of fear and hopelessness, or if I would much rather spend that time laughing alongside my loved ones.

When you really get this, life even at its hardest will be worth fighting for. It’s our life, given to us as a gift by God, so guard it and fight for it, it’s our right to it.

Well, like I said, the philosopher in me came out today:) Be happy with the simplicity of life, for a farmer is far happier with his life than a philosopher usually is.

And ultimately, I’ll keep on learning or unlearning, sharing with you parts of those lessons hopefully to help you heal faster and sooner, and be grateful for everything.

God Bless:)

 

When in pain, one writes

Yes, I’m in quite a lot of pain today, but don’t fuss, it will pass and life moves on. I figured since today it will be spent mostly in bed, I may as well write.

Long before I knew what a Solar Plexus was, I felt it. Every time my father yelled, I felt it. Every time my father hit one of us, I felt it. With every cry of pain, I felt it. With every criticism, I felt it.

Solar plexus aka Celiac Plexus aka Abdominal Brain – is a complex of ganglia (or network of nerves) and radiating nerves of the sympathetic system (fight and flight response) at the pit of the stomach.-Wikipedia

Heal this and you’ll heal adrenal problems, stomach problems, gall bladder problems, diaphragm problems, spleen problems and much more. (Chakras.info; solework.wordpress.com)

It took forty-two years for me to understand why every-time I was around other people I “saw” certain things about them – information that came in different forms such as: colors/lights, a string of clear yet seemingly unrelated images about that particular person’s life or that strong sense of danger/unease/happiness/relaxation one gets around certain individuals – affecting me one way or another, depending on what I “saw” or perceived. I also learned something else: Anytime I felt a perceived danger I would hold my breath. I was not aware I did that until one naturopathic doctor pointed it out. It was my way of coping with trauma or stressful circumstances. It began early in my childhood while witnessing a lot of my father’s abuse towards my siblings and my self. I held my breath. This happens when trauma or excessive stress is present in the early stages of childhood. It changes the structure of one’s DNA and neurological responses. Most people call such a result as “highly sensitive people”. Some are just born that way and no trauma was present, others develop this sensitivity forced by traumatic environments. In reality we’re all sensitive to pollutants/toxicity and stress. The difference is that some can shoulder these burdens better that’s others and it’s directly linked to a strong immune system versus not.

“That’s New Age talk, Carmen.” Some would say, after reading these lines. I was raised in a very strict conservative Christian environment (not all aspects of Christianity beliefs are wrong, but anything presented in a strict and extreme way is usually unhealthy) made to belief anything remotely related to New Age is evil. So I kept quiet about the things I “saw”/perceived knowing full well I would be accused of demon possession. I believe a lot of New Age theology comes from Biblical information but the movement added other things to it.

For forty- years, no stranger could get close to me without me feeling uncomfortable. Hugs to this day are hard for me and any conversation is done from a safe distance. If anyone violates that “safe zone” between us my flight or fight response super activates – although I lived only in a fight or flight response for years.  This has been medically proven by the tests I’ve had these past four years. My body could no longer relax. I’ve forgotten how.

Like a can of worms this perception exploded and jumped past few stages of teaching in massage school. I noticed certain things and had to ask my teachers for an explanation. Upon hearing the things I saw, my teachers simply responded with a genuine smile on their faces: “Carmen, you’ve got a gift.” I do? I thought to myself.

Example: I gave a massage to one of my teachers- which was not nerve-racking at all:)))- and I saw a shadow over her right hip and left knee. I knew instantly those areas were hurt. Without thinking I asked:

“What happen to your right hip and left knee?” She popped her head off the pillow in shock, only to realize she never told me anything about her personal life.

“How do you know about that?”

“I can see it.”

“What exactly do you see?”

“Dark gray shadows with a glow of pale yellow over these areas. I also see…” But she interrupted me, maybe because she didn’t want to find out a student can reveal more personal stuff about her.

“I had a bad car accident about ten years ago and those areas never healed properly.”

“Okay.”

Example: Had a lady on the massage table and I saw intense loss and grief all over her body. She was a good person, burdened by the disease of loss and sickness- a sickening yellow/olive color. I gently told her “all will be alright.” As we began talking I found out she lost someone very dear and just overcame cancer. She was also a bit frightened by all the things I could see so I stopped talking. In the end, she tolled me: “You have a gift.” She left and I never saw her again. I believe I may have frightened her for which I’m truly sorry.

The Solar Plexus is a sensitive spot but a powerful center of information. I’m not sure what made me the way that I am, but I was born with this. I’ve seen many things, most of them horribly dark stuff. Trauma, may have triggered something -this is a theory of mine- or I was born with a gift from God. Either way, I still have a lot to learn and I get things wrong as well.

One thing I’ve learned to do, is not let this gifting hinder my personal relationships, especially my relationship with Chet. Trust me, it took many years to learn how to and I’m still not an expert. But if I meet you and you’re going through something, and I will be allowed to see that, instead of allowing my heart to be broken by your hurt days in a row, I’ll be praying for you earnestly than let God and yourself do the healing in your own way and timing. I’ve learned I can’t be God and don’t want to. But I will be your friend.

I’ve tried to give you a small overview of the solar plexus but there’s so much more to it. For those interested, the internet is full of information on the subject. I hope this helped some of you and did not at least was an interesting read.

God Bless:)