Eden Hill Journal

Comments, dreams, stories, and rantings from a middle-aged native of Maine living on a shoestring and a prayer in the woods of Maine. My portion of the family farm is to be known as Eden Hill Farm just because I want to call it that and because that's the closest thing to the truth that I could come up with. If you enjoy what I write, email me or make a comment. If you enjoy Eden Hill, come visit.

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Location: Maine, United States

Friday, October 31, 2014

It's been awhile...

...since the last time I posted anything in this blog.
Actually I'm not sure if I have an audience even. My audience might be mostly bots but hey, I should trust in my readers. My stats show that I have readers from around the world! I think my most popular post was the one on LSD and really, why would bots read about LSD? OK, I'm convinced. My readers are real. I get paranoid when it comes to the Internet about "reality", like what to believe and what not to believe. Trust...
A lot has happened since my last post, both in the world and in my own life. I'm now retired. People sometimes ask what I retired from. Sorry I don't have a good answer. But I am officially retired. My wife found another place to live late this spring. I'm not divorced, not even legally separated, but I sure don't live with her. She lost her own private nigger. That politically incorrect word is not meant in the 20th century or 21st century slur sense. In this context it refers to a person who is owned by another, has almost no money, and is totally co-dependent on the provider who uses any of a large myriad of abusive behavior patterns to maintain the status quo.
That's mean for me to say I know but I'm determined not to backspace over it.
I should clarify one thing. My wife reserves most of her abusive side just for me. She's an angel in the eyes of most people who know her. That fact came to light brilliantly back on Memorial Day this year when, in response to a family crisis caused by me composing a statement that morning for her to sign in which she would recognize officially her passive aggressive abuse and quit it or face the consequences, she refused to sign but managed to convince her Christian marriage counselor(s) - a retired missionary couple - to come to the house and drive out my demons if they could. They couldn't.
On Mother's Day two weeks prior to this particular Memorial Day I had collapsed on the floor in severe pain where I stayed for 7 days before I made it back into bed where I stayed trapped in pain and fear for another 7 days. By pain I mean pain comparable to let's say passing a kidney stone or perhaps the pain of labor brought on by nearly any attempt to move. Well that's not exactly true. I had to do most of the work of taking care of myself. She made it clear that I inconvenienced her with my illness. This illness had been coming on for several years. Doctors had prescribed Advil back when all it was for me was severe back pain. What it turned out to be, and I had to diagnose this myself, was the impact of gluttony (a Biblical sin) combined with severe stress. My wife is too coy to admit it but I suspect she was convinced I had brought this condition on by drug use and porn and that those were the demons the missionary couple judged my immorality on.
So that whole situation set up the conditions under which my wife found it impossible to continue to live with me. Truthfully I can't say as I blame her. I know what it's like to live with a sinner although hers is that simpler one mentioned in the Bible, you know, the one where the world's First Lady decides she'd like to be like the god of her dreams by being able to judge good and evil.

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