September 9, 2022

Dear God, good morning. Today’s reading from God’s promises for every day writes, “What you can do to Count Your Blessings.” I feel so blessed by you, Jesus. The blessing you give me fills me up spiritually. My spirit sings with joy. As the Scripture says, “Anyone who trusts in him will never be disappointed.” The Scripture says “anyone” because there is no difference between those who are Jews and those who are not. The same Lord is the Lord of all and gives many blessings to all who trust in him. The Scripture says, “Anyone who calls on the Lord will be saved..”Romans 10:11 -13

I am so grateful for so many things that have happened to me. I need to count my blessings. Lord, I wept like a child when I asked you for help when I was in despair, depressed, lonely, scared, and confused. You came to me over a year ago. I can’t forget that morning, it felt amazing when the pain went away, and you made it happen. I was on the bedroom floor praying to you for help. This time you showed me your power of love by wrapping your beautiful arms around me that morning. I felt your presence all around me. It was a warm, gentle hug from you, Jesus.

I remember trusting you when I got sohba the last time in two-thousand-and sixteen. Trust was always something I never learned growing up. Of course, I trusted my biological parents to care for me, but they were too busy drinking alcohol and fighting.

Then I met Rosie, the first woman I trusted when I first got sohba in nineteen-eighty-seven. Rosie became my first real friend in the fellowship. Rosie was cute as a button. She had black hair, she was short, and she was a very beautiful Irish woman, who was sohba five years.

Rosie knew how to calm me down when upset, and I was always on edge with my emotions. Rosie and I had a lot of coffee, and she talked about her drinking days and recovery. I learned to love Rosie; she never pressured me to do anything. Rosie and the guys knew I was suffering from Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder (PTSD) while I was in early recovery, and I did not want to accept the fact I had PTSD.

One afternoon, Gary and I were playing scrabble on the floor. Rosie and Burt were watching us play. I beat Gary, and Gary pat me on the back to congratulate me on winning the game. I screamed bloody murder. “Get your f***** hand off me!” I think I cried, not knowing what was happening to me at the time. I was furious and panicking; I was not used to people touching me except for Burt, my boyfriend.

Both Burt and Gary would watch me sleep and say, That’s the only time Geri’s at peace. Gary said I was in turmoil with all my emotions and trying to stay sohba. I was suffering, and eventually, all three of them put me into Mc lean’s hospital in Belmont.

I went into the hospital, not knowing what would happen to me.

The doctors and nurses were so kind. They explained that all the trauma that I went through caused the PSTD. I was having night terrors, memories of my childhood, and day terrors. I was angry, crying for no reason. They put into groups that help people with PTSD. I didn’t want any part of it. I wanted to go home to Burt, where I knew it was safe. But the hospital kept me for three long weeks.

The patient played cards, watched movies, and had arts and crafts and puzzles. I did participate in any of their games. I still didn’t trust anyone. I wanted to go home. The doctors told me that the abuse I encountered from my biological parents is what triggered my memories and flashbacks of being traumatized. They told me I needed medicine to help with the nightmares and day terrors. I was angry that I had to take medication for PTSD. I took treatment at the hospital, finished their program, and went home with some hope that I would be okay.

The medicine worked. I was still an angry girl after leaving the hospital. God bless Burt. He was my angel. Burt was so gentle with me. He was very loving, caring, and helpful, and Burt always tried to make me happy, and he did. Burt was the first man that I trusted in the fellowship. He has a tough guy image, but he was a gentle soul. I love Burt for always loving me the way I am. Burt loves you too, Jesus, as I love you.