Stranger Than Fiction, 1

I have decided to blog for the next couple of weeks about a part of my past I rarely disclose to others.  This has to do with my life during the 1980's and 90's, particularly around my Thirteen Year Nightmare, a state of perpetual angst, stress, tragedy and misfortune I lived through from 1986 to 1999.

I'm not going to disclose a lot of personal details.  This blog is for public consumption and people can be absolutely ignorant if they are given even a smidgeon of personal information.  I am also going to fictionalize, or at least smokescreen,  at times in order to protect the privacy and identity of the less than innocent.

I will begin right at 1980 when I was a fervently devout Christian who felt called to live a simplicity of life in faithful witness to Our Lord Jesus Christ.  I was at that time very poor, having just found employment in a low paying job as a home support worker.  In those days we were called home-makers, a very female dominated profession.  I received training and ongoing training on the job and was suddenly plunged into a whole array of duties and crisis situations for which I simply did not have the training or experience to reckon with.  I was soon providing palliative care and bed care to aged and not so aged individuals incapacitated by chronic illness and cancer.

In the meantime I had moved from a housekeeping room in an old house to a one bedroom basement apartment.  The rent was, for those days, incredibly cheap, and I rented from a single mother with a toddler.  My roommate at the time was a real piece of work.  He got into drugs and became a street transvestite prostitute.  Life became hell and I had to kick him out to prevent being evicted.

That same year I had already run afoul with the church I was involved with.  They particularly did not like two prophecies I had allegedly received from God about the sorry state of the church and found myself leaving in semi-disgrace.  I moved to a different church altogether where I felt accepted but also susceptible to individuals who had very poor boundaries.  I fell under the influence of a self-proclaimed "apostle" and basically became a channel for his will and personality, allowing him to lead me, under the auspices of the Holy Spirit's guidance into a whole series of bizarre, ridiculous, dangerous and life-threatening situations.  It was impossible to challenge him about any of this.  He would innocently respond that he was only doing the Lord's will.

Following a brutal assault that landed me in hospital emergency in March of that year, 1981 became relatively uneventful.  I read a lot during my spare time.  Worked hard for my clients, some of whom were dying.  I went for long walks.  I collected and dried herbs.  I was exhausted.