Inherited Dysfunction

My daily obligations have been greeted with an unexpected murky grimace. The lack of physical agility appears to be the most visible culprit and overextended truth. It has only afforded me the opportunity to show up minimally with the added help of over-the-counter migraine medications and swapping them out for natural remedy alternatives. Somewhere between coping and existing, "survival" has become the new norm again.

Although this "periodic relapse" isn’t foreign, the recovery period appears to have grown insanely long.

Self-care routines temporarily mask the underlying temporal tension but doesn’t seem to compensate much for the excruciating heart condition. Life happened again. Stressors triggered that "little switch" that has caused a hormonal overload of emotional chaos.

Nothing feels right cause everything is wrong.

How did I become the "sole proprietor" of this inherited dysfunction?

My simple answer: Proclaiming myself (by fallacy) as the authoritarian of everyone’s crisis, a self-sacrificial martyr in disguise.

Why do we falsely assume that our happiness has to be forfeited in exchange for other’s misery? We unintentionally enable dysfunctional behavior by exchanging our joy for grief, abandoning our dreams and assuming hospice duties at the graveyard.

When loved ones have already made the decision to terminate his promises, your love won’t make them stay. Your love won’t supercede his power. You are not the GREAT I AM who has the final say!

Let God be God.

Know when your enabling season in the valley has expired. Stop coddling in the casket of desperation. Take off your oppression garments and burn them at the cemetery. Release yourself from the burden of darkness (without guilt).

Put one foot in front of the other and walk into 2019 knowing that you can upgrade that earthly dysfunction into a real kingdom inheritance.

It’s all on you God.

Here I am.

Comments

Broken Covenant

Once upon a time— I wanted to believe something was real so desperately that I silenced the Spirit within me just to keep the illusion alive. I saw every red flag— not as warnings, but as tests of how much I was willing to endure to feel chosen. I asked no questions because truth was already whispering, and I feared what obedience would cost me. So I made a covenant with denial— calling lies “grace,” and confusion “patience,” because the truth felt too vast, too holy, too disruptive to the future I had built in my mind. I clung to potential like it was promise, and mistook absence for peace. Yet the weight of it— this thing I called love— crushed my spirit daily. Still, desperation dressed itself as loyalty and convinced me to stay. And it didn’t get better. It decayed. Quietly at first… then unmistakably. Each time God unveiled truth, I chose the comfort of shadows over the calling of light. I pleaded. I prayed. I begged— not for revelation, but for permission to remain where I w...

From Chaos to Calm

After a while… the need to be heard at full volume begins to dissolve. The rooftops grow silent. The flames you once fed with trembling hands no longer feel like power— only exhaustion. What you burned never built a home. And somewhere along the way, you realize— not every echo returns, not every seed takes root, not every mountain was yours to climb. The grace you poured out like water in a desert, the love you offered with open, unguarded hands— it did not come back the way you imagined. And still… you are here. So instead of fighting what refuses to bend, you loosen your grip. Not in defeat— but in awakening. You release the need to be answered, to be chosen, to be understood by those who never learned your language. Your hands, once reaching outward, begin to rise— not in desperation, but in devotion. Upward. Open. Steady. God… I see You now in the quiet I once avoided. I hear You not in the thunder— but in the space where my striving used to live. And I am ready. Something within ...

Do Not Resuscitate (DNR)

What unsettles me most about some people is not the harm they cause— but the silence that follows it. No conviction. No trembling. No evidence that a soul was ever stirred. As if something sacred once lived there… and quietly left. What remains is form without fire. A body that breathes, but does not feel . A Walking corpse. Spiritually vacant, yet socially skilled— fluent in imitation, but foreign to truth. They move through people like weather— touching everything, anchoring nowhere. I once mistook that emptiness for mystery. Confused detachment with depth. Thought restraint was discipline, when it was really disconnection. But there was no rootedness in him— only appetite. An endless hunger dressed as desire. A man grazing on bodies, scrolling through souls like they were disposable moments. Not searching. Not building. Just consuming— to quiet something unnamed within him. Unhealed wounds don’t stay still. They wander. From bed to bed, from face to face, from high ...

A Daily Dose of Freedom

Search This Blog