When the flood happened i stayed home from work for 2 days. The first day i stayed home because the river was rising and i didnt want to be separated from my animals when it took the bridge and cut us off from the rest of the towns and cities. Who would feed them, hive them water, and let them out? No, i had to make sure i was wherever they were when the bridge went under water. The second day i stayed home because the electric poles went down the river and therefore there was no automatic climate control in the house so someone had to be there to open and close windows as needed, and because the river had gone over the bridge and a creek had flooded the back way out, so i couldnt have driven to work if i wanted to.
However, after those 2 days, the electricity was back on, the bridge was open, the debris swept to the sides of the bridge, the water had gone down considerably, and no more significant rainfall was expected. i left for work. I drove through all the areas that had been flooded over several roads and highways. This year there were no volunteers from out of state, no national guard handling everything….we did see the cajun navy but once the rescues were complete they went to help others who were harder hit. We werent the worst off area this time. A good amount of texas was dealing with flooding and it was going to be easier for us to lick our wounds by ourselves than some areas that were under water up to the roofs. So there were no big operations and crews this time. Things happened slowly. And it fell to the people who owned the land on either side of the roads that were flooded. The men who owned the fields on the side of 27 started taking down what was left of the barbed wire fence covered in twisted grass. Once they had it all unstrung and taken down they put in new sticks and strung new wire. That was at least a week long process if not two. The first day i went back to work people had used trucks to pull trees and logs out of the road so cars could pass but they left them right where they pulled them…just barely to the shoulder. You had to drive through a road with piles of trees and branches on either side. Buckets, trash cans, pool floaties…other stuff was amongst the branches and logs and tree trunks. It looked cluttered and there were a lot of plastic items littered amongst the fencing and branch/tree piles. However, the real problem was that when the water tore sheds and houses apart, it took all the pieces and deposited them on the road where the water had ended up going over the highway. There were nails and screws and little shards of things everywhere. As i drove through the areas where water had gone over the road…it was dry. There was no danger of “turn around dont drown” anymore. However, because it was not swept tidy like last time for cars to come through, i kept driving over smaller pieces of things that were left in the road while the trees and logs and bigger branches were pulled to the side. And the debris would lodge itself in my tires.
As time passed, the landowners on either sides of the highway started collecting the logs and branches from where they were dragged to the sides of the road and dragging them into the grass to make piles. They would get a mostly cleared dirt area all set up and then move a bunch of the wood debris over to it and light it on fire…watch it close and let it burn all day. For a week and a half the air was thick and hazy with smoke because everyone in a 5 town radius was burning the debris. There were no giant strange looking trucks that came to carry it all away this time. Once they started burning the debris, i stopped popping tires, because at that point, somebody swept the roads. I dont know who….i was at work and didnt see. I dont know if it was a street sweeper truck or a person with a broom. All i know is the small shards of stuff disappeared.
Well, I was one of the few that decided to stay home on that Wednesday. Most people decided to brave the weather on thursday and either go to work or try to go to work. I was one of two out of my peer group who didn’t have to race floodwater home thursday morning because i was already there.
I did feel a little guilty that I had stayed out from work Wednesday and Thursday when it turned out I could’ve gone to work on Wednesday because the river didn’t rise enough to flood the bridge until after dark on Wednesday night. so I promised I’d work Saturday to make up for it. Several other people had had to go home early due to flood waters cutting them off from their properties and families, so there were several patients that had not been seen that needed to be seen. There was a lot of work to be done. I had a full day’s schedule set for Saturday. Friday was the first day I went back to work. On the way home, the tire light went on. I got out and took a look and sure enough, there was a nail so far into that tire, it would’ve taken a miracle to pull it out. It was literally embedded to the point that it was not flush with the tire, but sucked into it. I figured the Post Office parking lot was as good a place as any to change the tire so I stopped there. The problem was, though I knew theoretically how to change a tire, I had never actually tried it out. I had always had roadside assistance with my insurance, but you really had to be located in a city when you had a flat tire to get roadside assistance to respond. They weren’t coming to the country. If I got a flat tire In Kerrville or San Antonio, Austin or Dallas, they would have come then. But in a smaller more remote town, they want you to tow the car to a larger town where they have crews and then they’ll respond. I was already in my small town by the time the light went on. I called my neighbor. She and her husband were helping flood victims. They stopped what they were doing to come help me with my tire. My best friend’s husband showed up with his air pump, ready to teach me how to change my tire.
I was pretty glad he brought his air pump because I had an air pump in the back of my car and I was trying my damnedest to figure out what these two attachments were for, but there were no pages in the instructions that indicated any kind of use for these two attachments. I had been standing in the Post Office parking lot reading and rereading the instructions for this air pump to try and figure out what these two little bitty pieces were for and it just wasn’t in there. As soon as he took a look at it, he said, “ oh, well, there’s your problem, those aren’t for a car. This one’s for a volleyball or a soccer ball, and that one’s for a bicycle tire. You don’t need those.” I asked, “well why can’t they just print that in the instructions?” so they were not relevant at all to the activity of pumping up a car tire, which might explain why they weren’t included in the instructions. It does not explain the lack of detail of any sort pertaining to the process of plugging the device into the tire.
My friend’s husband walked me through how to change my own tire, step-by-step, answered all my questions, and had me do it so I would have the muscle memory and be able to do it myself if it was needed again. There was a donut tire in the back of my car. I didn’t put it there. It was a used car and it just came with a spare tire. Upon examining the very clean, never used before donut, my friend’s Husband notified me that there was no air in the donut. He said it was either flat, or they had just never aired it up and it was the spare that came with the car. The car was 10 years old. If that was so, it was a very old spare. He asked me if I wanted to just leave the flat tire on the car, because it wasn’t all that flat. He said the nail was actually plugging the hole pretty well and though it was leaking air, it was leaking slowly. I told him that I wanted to change the tire to the donut, because I needed to drive two cities away and two whole hours the following morning and it was imperative that I get there because I had a very full schedule having missed two work days and needing to see patients who had been on schedule, but not tended to. He said OK and started pumping up the donut from square one. He inflated it to 55. he warned me that I was not supposed to drive over 50 miles an hour on a donut. I started researching why. The internet said something about the donut, being a smaller tire, turning faster to keep up with the other tires. It gets hotter the faster it turns. You’re not supposed to drive above 50 because the donut can experience a blow out if driven above… well, the highway that I needed to take to get to work… the speed limit was 75. I thought about just driving the whole way at 50 with the flashers on, there was also a thought that I could try the back roads, but they went over several creeks, and there were conflicting reports about whether the creeks had gone down enough to pass, going through the back roads. Several people advised me not to try the back roads, because unlike the highways, they would not be a priority to clear, and I may find myself driving a long way on the back roads only to find out I have to turn around and go back to Square one to use the highway because they are impossible at some point down the road. It was decided that I would just drive 50 with the flashers on on the highway and people would just have to tolerate it.
After the donut was on the car, I remember my best friend’s husband telling me that I needed to check the pressure of the tires in the morning to make sure the donut didn’t also have a hole in it. He had showed me how to use the manual tire gauge that discount tire gave me when I had a tire that needed patched and they assured me I didn’t and just turned the light off only to have it go on again down the road. They were not very helpful in diagnosing the problem, but they did give me a tire gauge and i had stashed it in the driver’s side door.
Saturday morning, I got up, got ready, got dressed, packed the car, situated all the animals, and prepared to drive to work for my full day. I unscrewed the cap to the donut tire and pressed in with the tire pressure gauge. The little stick shot out to indicate a number: 45. I did it again. This time the number was: 43. Well, shit. The donut tire was flatter than the flat tire. well, at this point, I knew what I had to do. It was right around dawn on a saturday. Nothing was open. Everyone was asleep. I needed to get to work. priority number one was getting the car to a flat paved area. A recently flooded very very muddy dirt road under a carport was not the ideal place to change a tire. I never would have arrived in a halfway decent set of scrubs in any condition to see patients in a city, and the car probably would not have jacked up. The jack would’ve just sunk into the mud. Once buried I would’ve had to retrieve it.
I started the car and drove it to the new O’Reillys near the highway in my small town. it was the nicest, smoothest, flat cement parking lot we had. I parked the car in a spot I was comfortable with and got out. Somehow, I would need to change the donut tire back to the flat tire, pump it up, and drive to the city I worked in, where I could purchase another tire at discount tire or Walmart, and preferably another spare tire since this one was also flat, without getting my uniform dirty. I tried my best to carry the tires extended away from my body, with the worst body mechanics I have ever used in my life. Let it be known that if ever you have to carry something heavy, you should hug it to your body, as close to your core as you can get it. This is a do what I say not what I do situation. I just knew that I could not show up in scrubs with tread patterns and grease all over them. They already don’t love it when I show up with mud and chicken shit all over my shoes, so earlier this year I had to transition to having two sets of tennis shoes, one that I take off at the post office and then another one in the back of the car that I switch to before getting to the Homestead. it’s a giant hassle, having to put on tennis shoes twice every morning and switch into other tennis shoes before getting home. It seems like a massive waste of time to me, but it’s really important to people that you not show up tracking mud and chicken shit all the way through their facility. You have to be clean. Somehow, I did it. My hands were dirty as all get out, but there was not a single mark on my scrubs by the time I was done changing the tire.
My best friend’s husband was a teacher. That’s probably why he was so good at teaching. I remembered everything he had me do the night before in the Post Office parking lot and I just repeated it exactly in the O’Reillys parking lot the following morning. I went to the trunk and got the flat tire out, put it on the ground. I grabbed the jack and put it together. I positioned the jack where I wanted it under the car and made sure it lined up with the little spot he showed me near each tire where you can put a jack. Then I turned it until it rose up and began lifting the car. I used the lug nut remover to take all the lug nuts off and lifted the donut tire off the car and onto the ground. Then I lifted the flat tire back onto the bolts that pertained to the lug nuts. I put each lug nut on and tightened the ones across from each other in turn, pushing down until I could not push any further. Once I got the flat tire back on the car i checked how much air was in the flat tire. It was now at 30. I plugged the air pump into the cigarette, lighter and attached it to the tire. I set it to pump the tire up to 33. It’s been a while pumping and then it stopped. I put the gauge on and checked. It read: 30. I set it again, this time setting it to pump the tire up to 34. When it stopped, I used the tire gauge to read it and it read: 30. I set it again for 33. This time the tire gage read: 28. At which point I realized that out of the two tires, the flat one was my best bet at getting two cities over to the place that sold tires, where I could get an Uber over to my job. If I could not make it 40 minutes to an hour from where I was in either direction, I would not be in a town or city that possessed a business that sold tires. if I wanted to buy a tire, I had to go. Drive under 50 miles an hour with the flashers on suddenly morphed into a plan of drive fast, really fast, like before the tire finished deflating fast. It is my suspicion that rather than pumping the tire up, I was just increasing the pressure so that air could escape around the nail each time I used the air pump. This whole process took me about 30 minutes that morning. Realizing I needed to just go and hope the flat tire would limp along for an hour while I drove two cities to the nearest discount tire or Walmart, I threw the donut in the trunk, gathered the tools I had next to the car, threw them in the backseat, lowered the car, put the jack in the trunk, and threw my hands up, “We’ll just drive fast.” I drove two cities over. I didn’t slow or stop. I did say a prayer asking God not to let the tire pop or lose enough air that it became a bigger problem. I made it. I limped into the discount tire parking lot and told them I needed to buy five tires. The tread was nearly gone on all of the tires, so if I was replacing one tire and the donut tire, I might as well get new tires. I told them I just wanted something with good treads. They pulled out the most expensive tires anyone has ever seen or heard of in the history of mankind. I looked at them for a while and said, “ great, just like that, except imagine I’m poor. What kind of tires you got for people who are poor?” they pulled up some basic tires with barely more tread than the ones that were on the car. I looked at them a little longer. They pulled up the next cheapest tire. There was more tread to them than the ones on my car, but they were only $163 a piece. I nodded my head, “ that’ll do it. I need four of those on the car and one of those in the trunk. It’s not gonna fit because it only fits a donut. I already know that. Just put the jack and everything back there in the whole shape like a tire, put the trunk cover over it, and then lay that spare tire in the trunk on top of the cover.” well somebody there did not know how to follow instructions because while they assured me, they understood and could handle that, the car came back with a full-size, spare tire jammed into the doughnut compartment, with a precariously balanced sideways trunk cover angled on top like some kind of kentucky derby party hat. Whatever.
I took an Uber to work. There’s really only two people that do Uber in that city/town. My first Uber was the guy that I don’t see regularly in my second. Uber was the woman that I normally get. she has a giant pick up and rainbow colored hair. 
I did not manage to stay completely clean. The jack had had grease on it, and when I picked it up, well, let’s just say I grabbed the wrong part. Then I went and handled the flat tire and the spare tire, so my hands were not city healthcare job ready. But my uniform was. I washed my hands thoroughly in the bathroom and got to work. After install, I owed discount tire over $1000. Ouch. That was not in the budget or the plans. But life is like that. At lunch break I ubered back to the discount tire, paid, and retrieved my car. I finished working in the afternoon, then drove home through more debris in the evening. I now have a full spare tire and am comfortable changing a flat anywhere there’s pavement.
I knew it was going to happen again yesterday but nobody would listen to me. Everybody thought i was paranoid…dramatic. Its not like last year, they said. See, the bridge is still there. Yes its flooding but this time its not up to the bridge yet and this time we have bridge officials and the fire department and the electric company all posted up and in place, monitoring things, ready for action. So, this time we are aware of the situation and they’re going to manage it. They’re going to coordinate and let water downstream at the right rate and we’re not going to flood like last year. That was a catastrophic once in a lifetime historical event. I also heard this one: “God wouldnt do it to us twice.”
Im high functioning autistic. Im good with pattern recognition…statistical probability…things like that. I went to the dam and had a look at the water. I stayed for an hour and noted the rate the water was rising, climbing the road. I drove over the bridge a couple times and had a look at that water. Then i looked up how many feet the river had risen in the last 24 hours. Then i looked up how much rain had fallen in the last 24 hours in my town, in the 24 hours before that in my town, and then did the same for the town directly upstream and the towns downstream. I looked up the projected expected rainfall for the next 24 hours in my town, then the following 24 hours, and studied the concentration hourly of when throughout each day that rain was expecting to be falling. Then i did the same for the town directly upstream from us. After examining the forecast projections and noting the bridge employees, the sheriff, the fire fighters, the water vehicles, and the inflatable boats…i decided that they were poised for action and must have assessed the same thing i did and decided to stay home on wednesday. It was supposed to rain all through wednesday and thursday in both my town and the towns downstream and upstream of us. However, wednesday there was a 60 to 75 percent chance of rain every hour and we were expected to receive up to 6 more inches that day after we’d already had 6 inches two days in a row. The river was already swollen and the dam road already flooded. I figured a steady rain all throughout the day, every hour, would give no reprieve and no water would soak into the ground. Oversaturated, it would just travel along on top of the limestone rock and become runoff. Thursday had a scheduled forecasted break in the rain overnight followed by a 30 percent to 25 percent chance of rain until 5 pm when it kicked back up to 60 or 70 percent all through the night on thursday. Looking at this, i decided i was not comfortable leaving my town for work on wednesday morning and even though i was completely dressed in scrubs with my gait belt and pulse oximeter in my pockets and my lunch packed, i asked if i could have the day off and work saturday to make it up instead. Well, weather doesnt always follow the projected forecast. The river rose and rose as it continued to rain wednesday but when i went to bed, though the water was chocolate milk colored, churning, and full of white peaked rapids, it was still a few feet beneath the bridge leading in and out of my town. It was not up to the bridge yet. I was being told that i was overreacting and dramatic when i pointed out that the forecast continues to indicate a schedule of steady rain and upstream from us their community is drowning in flood water and will undoubtedly be letting down more water our way in an attempt to stop their own bleeding as communities are buried beneath flood water. They are going to try to empty their portion of the swollen angry river in our direction. So i accounted for our rain, our runoff, their rain, and their runoff. Here’s where things went awry for their plan of “we’re not doing last year again.” Overnight it did not lend a break in the rain. In fact the break came early. We had a short reprieve in late afternoon. Then overnight, instead of a light misting associated with a 25 to 30 percent chance of rain, we had another rager of a storm with lightning and thunder everywhere. Once again, san antonio got more tornados for the third time in 4 days. At 12:30 a lightning bolt lit up our world and the power went out. It came back on a minute later. At 1 am lightning cracked the sky and the power went out again. I waited for it to come back on. I waited and waited and waited. The room was dark and silent save for the blibbering baboon of an australian shepherd driving me crazy destroying shit left and right, drooling all over everything, trying to become one with the rooster pen in the bathroom because maybe its not raining in there, and dragging her butt all over the floor. If i crated her (which i had to do shortly because i couldnt control her anymore once the lights were out and i couldnt see her, she just filled the one room tiny house with a tin roof/ceiling with the noise of her barking and growling. I plugged my ears with the blanket and lived through it. She did the same thing last year too. The aussie is not great in a crisis. She thinks its her job to create a diversion by making more chaos to take your mind off the impending disaster. When i realized how long the power had been out i knew it wasnt coming back on. This power outage was likely not lightning related and more the probability that the power poles had gone down the river again. I knew better than to go see before dawn. You dont go out when its flooding and you cant see the flood water until you’re in it. You wait for dawn. So i waited. 2 am came. No power. No sense in getting up to get ready for work if you cant run the shower or cook anything. I reset the phone alarm and went back to sleep. I should say, both wednesday and thursday we all received plenty of “this is a deadly flood warning, do not leave the house unless you are fleeing flood waters actively.” Notification. It was helpful to me. I used it to tell work why i wasnt coming and gage the seriousness of the situation, so i think they did that way better this time. They gave us an abundance of information this time, including an alert every time the river started rising and by how my h it had risen in a period of hours. Thank you for giving us the info we needed to make good decisions. Now did everybody make good decisions this time around? No. And ill get into that. I understand why they didnt make good decisions but just cuz i understand it doesnt mean i’d recommend it or condone it. So, i reset the alarm every hour and woke up to see that there was still no electricity in the house. At 6:30 am i knew the sun would be up shortly and i grabbed my purse, flip flops, my phone, and an umbrella. I used pieces of plywood to make it through the mud and water to my car under the carport. I managed to get in only to realize i had forgotten my glasses. If i was going to go check the river i might need to see it. I went back to get them and on the way off the porch slid in the mud and landed on the edge of the porch stair. Honestly i mostly caught myself with my right hand and wasnt hurt at all so it could have been way worse. When you live alone you dont actually have to cop to the embarrassing things you do if you just dont mention them but let the record show that i am capable of carelessness when in a hurry and am fallible in a crisis as well. I drove over the creek to get to the flat part of town where i could check the river level and when i did so i noted that the creek was higher, wider, and more choppy than it had ever been during july 4 of last year. That scared me. Id never in 7 years seen that creek go over the road and now it was a foot from doing it and moving FAST and angry. That creek separated me from the bulk of my town. The creek was so wide it looked like a flooded river at this point. Trees were in it so it definitely had left its banks. I made a mental note that i should hurry about checking the river and then once on the other side of this creek, not check it again. I drove down to the flat part of town and even in the darkness of an overcast dawn i could tell large debris such as whole trees was being carried over the bridge. A fire truck blocked access to it. I could see the flood waters raging over the bridge. I decided to check the dam and to my surprise there was no barricade barring me from doing so. I turned left beside the local tavern on the main street and in the headlights i could see the river. I should have had to drive down that road, turn right, and drive down that road to go check the level of the river at the dam but the river was right behind the back of the tavern and there was just enough room for me to do a quick and decisive u-turn and head with purpose back over the creek to my house in the hilly part of town, up high. As i drove over it i realized this would be the last time i could go over that creek without getting stuck on the other side. The rapids were a foot tall, the water was so choppy, shooting around each curve and between tree trunks. It was chocolate milk in a blender on pulse. I drove over it quickly and did not leave the hilly area again. From my house, i continued to monitor the rising river levels of the Guadalupe and pedernales, various nearby creeks…. I monitored what percentage of each town was now under water with each passing hour. Social media can be a helpful thing when you need real time information. People started facebook post threads called “whats it like in your area” where they’d post the question and everyone would comment their area, the amount of rainfall received, the amount the body of water they were near had risen, the roads closed near them, and their best picture of what was going on. After putting all this info together i started getting a mental image of what was to come and i realized it was going to be worse than last year. I realized it was time to go for the people on the river in multiple towns and to my surprise, the fire department had realized what i realized an hour before i realized it and given the evacuation order an hour before i said “Go! Get out.” This strange thing happened where people did not want to believe we were doing this a second time and i seemingly couldnt force them to live in the reality that we were. I spent all morning pacing my tiny house on the phone yelling at people, bullying them into getting their butt in gear and taking action. We can cope later. We can grieve later. We can make sense of it later. Right now its time to call 911 and get a boat rescue because the bottom floor of your house is in the river and you’re cut off from roads required to escape by flooded bodies of water. I talked to people who had driven to other cities to work and told them it was time to go home while they still could….be with their kids, their animals, because once the water takes out the road, it may be a while before whats left is drivable, even if the water recedes. Sometimes it takes all the asphalt with it and leaves a big hole in its wake. I saw the writing on the wall that families were going to be separated and stranded in different towns from each other. I tried to tell them to go home but they thought i was overreacting not coming to work. They did indeed get stranded and have to wait at a shelter until flood waters receded to reunite with their children.
Im pretty good at pattern recognition and statistical probabilities. There’s plenty of stuff i dont know jack all about but if i stay home from work cuz i think the river is going to flood today…maybe i was twelve hours off but if i do that you should assume something big is coming down the pipe because i dont just call work and tell them im not coming without probable cause and a just reason. Im not paranoid. Im observant. Tuesday my neighbor pleaded with me to stay home from work and tell them im not coming and i said, “that’s not how this works. I have no statistical evidence the river is going to flood today. Therefore i have to go to work. If i call in every time its raining they will fire me.” I went to work. Wednesday, i did not. Had the forecast done what the projection said it would do….there was a high likelihood wednesday would have been the day. But we got a break and then wednesday night in the darkness we got a rager of a lightning storm that dumped more buckets of water on us and just parked and rained. Thursday morning i got a text from someone in the town upstream that let me know the river had risen 34 feet in 4 hours. It was exactly what i thought it would do when you combined the amount of rainfall we were supposed to get upstream and in our town, the already saturated ground holding standing water already, so anything new would be 100 percent runoff, and the rate at which water could be let down the river without flooding the people downstream since we just had a concrete wall and no method to control how much water was let through our area. If they opened the flood gates upstream…we would be getting whatever they released in full force over our little joke of a dam (a few feet of concrete wall). We received two more alerts when it started raining hard again that the river was rising once more. It was scheduled to rain all day. What was once 25 to 30 percent was now a 60 to 75 percent chance each hour.
I talked to the people who were on the river and on the fence of “maybe it wont get any higher than this…” or “well its coming in the kitchen but i have to be here with a broom to keep it from getting to the carpeted rooms in the back of the house” and i told them “its time to go.” People are reporting theres a waiting list for 911 rescue so call now and book a boat or helicopter rescue and it’ll likely be there by the time you need it and are on your roof.” I told them not to wait, to give the firefighters and cajun navy the window of time needed to rescue them alive and not dead. Lets go, lets call 911 now when the water is ankle deep in the house and the roads are impassible, or when the water has taken the downstairs but not yet the upstairs. So many people told me “well what if the water level goes down and then the rescue was all for nothing…” then it goes down!!!! Better safe than sorry people. You cant bank on the idea that the river will go down while theres two active warnings its rising again, its raining now, and theres more rain in the projected forecast all day. Schedule the rescue and if it turns out you could have stayed and not died but just have been wet and covered in propane, chemicals, and sewage….then tell me “i told you so” later. Get safe people. Dont gamble with what ifs when it comes to texas rivers and creeks during flooding. The odds are ever against your favor. Play it safe. Call. Get the rescue. Evacuate.
So i spent wednesday trying to warn people of what was likely coming, early morning thursday trying to convince people to evacuate or go home and be with their kids and animals while they still could, and late morning thursday trying to get their address or convince them to call 911 for rescue or just turn around and find a shelter rather than drive through flooded creeks trying to get back to their houses. Then i took a nap, exhausted from peopling and charging my phone on the small lunchbox sized generator just to have more juice to argue with. Several people wanted to talk to me on the phone just to get a picture of what was going on because they were interested or they were worried about me and then wanted to catch up and it was not personal but i limited these calls because i was trying to conserve phone battery so i could argue with those who refused to leave with what battery i did have and they were stubborn as heck so i had to keep plugging it into the generator and charging it up again. At some point texting and cell phone data internet access stopped. I could call, but no longer text or access facebook, where i had been monitoring all the situations and statistics in nearby towns. I took a nap because i was tired of listening to the one am radio station that comes in on the weather radio if you perch it high at the top of the window with the antenna extended up and to the left. They were talking politics and i was over it but it was the only thing that ran on no internet and triple a batteries which i had a lot of. Last year the program was at least baseball, which i didnt really give a flip about but at least it was more pleasant to listen to the announcer describe the progression of the game than two people on opposite sides of the political spectrum prattle on about stupid things with enough venom to vaporize a country, were it tangible.
I was cut off from the lower part of my town by the creek and the rest of the world by the river. My coworker said, “well what will you do, how will you survive?” I answered, “Im a homesteader. I have water, food, and ammunition. Im good.” This is of course after the prerequisite statement that i was on a hill on one of the highest points in the town…one of the reasons i bought the property in the first place.
At half past noon i woke up to the sound of the window unit running and the presence of lights. The electricity was on! As it turned out, when i had checked the electricity company outage map the night before, there were over 1,000 people without power upstream, where our electric company is located, and 31 houses in my town. I knew a power pole had likely gone down the river somewhere. What i didn’t know was that a barge had gone over the dam upstream and taken out the poles and lines with it as it went over. To their credit, in the middle of worse flooding than last year, it went out at 1:00 am and was back on at 12:30 pm the following day. I didnt have to toss all the food in the fridge like last time. I later found out the use of a drone to restring wires during active flooding was behind the quicker response time.
The chickens pens are still a flooded muddy poopy mess and the young chickens are riding the top of the chicken coop like it’s noah’s ark. The dogs stay in the house with me and go out when theres a break or some slack in the rain.
The flood this year actually is worse than last year but ive only heard of two deaths so far and i think thats just due to daylight and a better warning system. Unbeknownst to me until yesterday, same for a lot of people in nearby towns, we have flood alarms now. Nobody knew what they were but i figured when i found the concrete tower with the red light and the source of the whining buzzing noise, thats probably what that meant. Two more people in different nearby towns called me and said something similar.
The fire department flooded again. All the new donated stuff is ruined. The governor declared a state of disaster. All those rebuilt houses that volunteers helped make are full of water or carried away. The roads are washed out. There is a feeling of “but it cant happen twice” and “who is going to volunteer this time?” People arent going to keep coming if we require help to clean up and rebuild once a year every july. Also i cant see people ever looking at the country’s birthday celebration the same again. This year we celebrated on the 11th. Every time we try to do july a historic once in a lifetime flood happens. When i tell you there were people who would rather die in their houses than do this again….there were people who would rather die in their houses than do this again. It’s a problem. Do i know what to say? Do i have words to make it better? No. All i can tell you is shitty things happen and we have to just take life one foot at a time. Left, right, left, right. Just keep walking. Life is a series of moments and you’re winning the game if you’re still playing. Its as simple as that. As long as you are still taking steps, focusing on walking, you’re still in the game. It wont do you any good to sit at a table and rub your head and ask “why” over and over again. In this realm, we dont get the answers. Shit happens and you have to live through it. We do what we gotta do. Get your people, get your animals, and get safe. A new round of rain just arrived. Im gonna wrap this up and go pay attention to that. But for serious, worry about why later. For now, get your people, get your animals, and get to higher ground. We’ll sort everything else later. For those that would rather die than do it again….just know you’ll be adding to your family’s already insurmountable trauma if you make them live through this crisis again, but this time without you. Dont make one more thing for them to mourn or make sense of. Stick around and be there for each other. We may never know why. We dont have to know why. Focus on the moment at hand and when you’re done with that one, God will give you another.
A wall of water coming down the Pedernales River: Courtesy of Fredericksburg Grassfed BeefThe Guadalupe River in Kerrville Texas on July 16, 2026: Courtesy of the Kerrville Daily TimesThe Guadalupe River in Kerrville Texas on July 16, 2026: Courtesy of the Kerrville Daily TimesThis aerial photo provided by David Fry shows flooding in Uvalde, Texas, on Thursday, July 16, 2026. (David Fry/Medina Real Estate Photography via AP) The comfort ball field: Courtesy of Brian Emfinger and AccuWeather Houses in comfort texas: Courtesy of Brian Emfinger and AccuWeather The comfort ball field: Courtesy of Brian Emfinger and AccuWeather The Kerrville courthouse: Courtesy of the “Hill Country Community Journal” The Kerrville courthouse: Courtesy of the “Hill Country Community Journal”Courtesy of City of Kerrville Police DepartmentCourtesy of City of Kerrville Police DepartmentCourtesy of City of Kerrville Police DepartmentKerrville: Courtesy of Mikel Wayne ScottRestaurant in Bandera: Courtesy of El Jacalito’s Courtesy of Tony Gallucci and Tamara Smith Courtesy of Laurie Herbort CrenwelgeCourtesy of Audrey SteinWednesday….the beginning of the river flooding: my photo
The beginning of the flooding in my town on Wednesday morning: my videoThe aftermath….my photoThe aftermath….my photoThe aftermath….my photo
We are quietly licking our wounds without the volunteers this time…everyone that i know who lives on the river has had enough and made the decision to leave. Those who dont live on the river are just piling the debris and burning it. Fence is getting mended or replaced slowly. Roads are being repaved. Bridges are on a list for rebuilding or repairing. Theres no strangers here this time and i have to say, as helpful as they were…they created an environment, no fault to them and their beautiful souls, where it was easy for looters and rapists to hide amongst them under the guise of volunteers. so, without them, the houses dont get rebuilt but i dont have to lock everything up, keep the curtains drawn, and be in by nightfall with a loaded rifle by the door so there’s that. As far as why did it happen twice? I dont know but the one thing i can tell you is that each time a circular rain formation, kind of like a less organized more spread out hurricane visible on the radar, turning ever so slightly in a circular motion, simply parked over our area and rained steadily for a week. So, if you see a disorganized spread out system parked and moving slightly in a circular motion on the radar….assume we’re having a historic flooding event. This is Texas. We get fast moving, furious pop up storms that are moving from one direction to another in a straight line. Whatever this disorganized circular thing that doesnt move is….it equals FLOOD.
When it rains it pours. 3 days in a row i’d seen eyes in the dark and while they could have been one of my neighbor’s outdoor cats they looked a bit too high off the ground to belong to a cat and unfortunately i had my money on coon. On the 4th day a violent, all-red on the radar, circular pop up storm had blasted through and made quite an entrance and an exit. It was all of 5 minutes of fury and then it was gone but in those five minutes the destruction it caused with a shit storm of lightning was breathtaking. It was literally just a lone red circle on the radar. It formed, it raged, it died. I was trying to get the car under the carport and the dogs inside. In the time that i did this it passed. However, i did note that we were outside in an unfortunate amount of very close lightning. I had arrived home at the same time the circle on the radar had and the dogs just had to wait. There was an impressive BOOM of thunder and the sky lit up white. When i entered the house the power seemed to be off but the wall in the kitchen was making a violent buzzing and clicking noise. It was also vibrating. It scared me so i pressed reset to the outlet out of shock and momentary stupidity. I was still trying to piece things together. The wall had never been clicking and buzzing or vibrating during a power outage before. When that didnt work i came to my senses and turned the power off to the kitchen at the electric panel. Both green lights were still on on the surge protector on the pole outside. After talking to our electric company and a coworker’s son who was apprenticing under an electrician…it was determined that i likely had partial power vs no power as the window unit fan blades tried to kick on every once in a while and then powered down and the oven clock display and ac unit display were still lit up and functioning. All the lights were off and the regular outlets didnt work but the well was still receiving electricity. It was very strange. I was told either a transformer got hit or a tree was laying on the line somewhere but i was receiving some, not none, power. Nobody could tell me what was happening in the angry sounding wall so i left the electricity to the kitchen off. I went outside as i was on the phone and there, 20 feet from a chicken, was a big old skinny adult raccoon making a beeline for the chicken pen. I said, “shit!” Realizing if i went back to the house for the unloaded gun, got the bullets down from where i had them, opened the box, loaded it, and went back out…the coon would have a chicken before i returned. He was skinny and alone for whatever reason. Normally they traveled in little packs. This one was long but looked like it hadnt eaten well in a while. It was getting bolder and now coming in daylight before night fell. I couldnt risk going for the gun when it was 20 ft from the chicken and i didnt even have it loaded. I chased it away with rocks, screaming at him and chucking them at him. I was aware he’d be back in no time. He knew where the food was now. He was a problem i needed to handle. I had two traps and a coworker had a third which he lent me and then ended up giving to me afterwards. A guy at the gas station i go to in fredericksburg said not to use cat-food or tuna. He said that raccoons could NOT resist sardines, no matter how much they knew it was a trap. The first night i tried to trap him he just tipped the trap to the side and ate all the sardines by pulling them through the side of the trap. I was reminded, raccoons are smart little critters. Its a mistake to underestimate them. They’re not just a big jock of a predator. They’re crafty. A thing to know about coons: they can open anything you think they cant and if they actually cant get a chicken through the bars to make off with it, they’ll still kill it and they wont just kill one. They’ll kill all of them, knowing full well they cant fit them through the bars. This crafty coon would be back for another meal come nightfall, now that it knew we were serving fish so i made a decision to keep the trap stocked consistently until i could catch it because as long as it found sardines in plane sight it wasnt gunning for chicken. I bought a bunch of tins of sardines at the dollar general and decided to get smarter about my trap design. I zip tied the three traps together with the biggest one in the middle, so he couldnt reach through the sides to get the fish anymore. He’d have to go through the front. I put a foam mat on top of the traps, encouraging visual entry through the front, and i put a really heavy paver on top of the mat to keep the coon from flipping or rolling or dragging the trap to move the position of the tin of fish inside. I set the trap right at the back of the young chicken pen, where the coon was always interested…. I made sure it was all set like i wanted it and tested the mechanism that closed the trap to see if it needed lubricating. I smeared the trap with sardine oil and dribbled the juice from the sardine tin in the grass leading up to the entrance of the trap. I placed the sardine tin over the trip plate in the back of the trap but not too close to the back edge so he couldnt pull them out the back. I left my rifle loaded but with the safety on, on top of the dog crates near the front door, facing the direction of the coon trap. I left the head lamp right next to it with new batteries in it. I was ready, the rifle was ready, the head lamp was ready…what i didnt anticipate was that the dogs were ready. Cashew had watched me chase the coon, watched me set the trap, watched me set the trap again….she understood what we were doing. We were hunting a coon that was hunting the chickens. I went to bed, determined to give the coon a chance to visit and get in the trap without my face giving it second thoughts so i made myself scarce.
At 3 in the morning Cashew woke me up, punching her head through the open mosquito net tent flap. She nosed me and whined and then barked. I realized with glee…that raccoon was probably in that trap. I looked at her, patted her head, “Good dog, good dog.” I stood up and had a walk about the 1 room house, realizing we had probably done it. We had probably trapped that coon. We’d know soon enough. The sun would be up at 7. Cashew walked me to the rifle and stood, expecting me to pick it up. I patted her head, “chill cashew, we’re not gonna shoot it now. We’re gonna shoot it in the morning.” Cashew stomped the ground with one foot, cocked her head, pointed to the rifle, then ran to the front door. I shook my head no. I patted her head, “Good girl. Good girl.” Sometimes when she wanted something and i was peeing i said “you wait” and she knew that to mean i would not be immediately at her service tending to the door, the empty food bowl, or the bug she was going on about in the house because i was temporarily otherwise occupied….but i’d heard her and i’d be there eventually. With an aussie, its necessary to have such a command because otherwise you will have an Aussie nose punching you and then sprinting across the room, rinse and repeat, the whole time you’re trying to pee. In a one room house with the brooder sticking out the bathroom, “wait” was a handy command. I turned my palm towards the ceiling, bent my hand back, and flipped it up repeatedly stating, “wait”. She cocked her head in utter disbelief and then flopped down on her elbows in front of the front door and waited. She couldnt understand why i didnt want to go tend to what was likely in that trap but i knew, if there was a coon in there, i’d have to shoot it, get it out of the trap, and off the property within minutes or it would bleed on the property, attracting other predators to an area where i keep chickens and dogs. Everything needed to be done in rapid fire succession. As soon as i was sure it was dead, id need to get it out. I didnt want to be trying to do this without the element if sight during a time when predators are already out and hunting. I also didnt need a coyote or fox rolling up and going, “hey i’ll take that off your hands…”. I couldnt see in the dark so i preferred to wait until the other predators were heading to bed and i could see what i was doing. what i was doing.
At 7:05 i put my shoes on, took the safety off the rifle, and trekked outside, leaving the dogs in the house. I had a quick moment of celebration as i realized, not only was there a coon in the trap…it was indeed THE coon that had been coming 4 days in a row to try to get a chicken. He was unmistakeable…large but very skinny. I wondered if he had worms or his teeth were just worn down or what but this guy for whatever reason hadnt been putting on pounds like the other little waddling trash panda bandits. His tail was scrawny and barely had fur on it. I put the end of the rifle up to the top of the trap. A coworker had given me the advice, “put the rifle through the little bars of the cage because he’ll bite it and then you can shoot him through the mouth, into the brain…kill shot.” Well, that coon did bite the end of the rifle but he also grabbed it with both hands and did a sort of alligator death roll. I immediately became pretty unhappy the critter was messing up my gun and i shot him in the head twice and the chest 3 times for good measure. When i shot him the first time his head jerked backwards and he fell to the side but he was still violently twitching so i shot him in the head again. He stopped flopping but there was still a little twitching so i just emptied the remaining three i had into his chest. I wanted him to go quickly so he didnt suffer but i also wanted to make sure he was good and dead since i was going to drag him out of there with gloved hands in mere minutes and i didnt need him waking up and biting me in revenge on the way out. I gave him a couple minutes and it was real clear his torso was still. No breathing. I dragged him to the edge of the property in my trap configuration. Luckily, the foam mat he had pulled in with him and shredded had soaked up the blood so there was none left where i shot him behind the young chicken pen.
Once he was at the edge of the property i had a look at him and then said some quick words. It was nothing personal. You were after the chickens. I protect the chickens. You had to go. Thats just the way it is. I told him he didnt do anything other than be a coon but he still had to die cuz i couldnt let him get any of my chickens. I then tied my hair up and put on long pants instead of boxers and dragged the trap to the intersection down the road where i dumped him out of the trap for the buzzards to take care of.
The chickens gave me little fuss for letting them out of the coops an hour late. They had probably been listening to this snarling coon shred the foam mat in anger, chew up the fish tin, and try in vain to escape since 3 am. They were probably terrified. They’d heard the gun shots. When i let them out they had a look around and saw no predator. I think they understood i’d handled it. They were decidedly quiet and didnt complain or demand feed right away either.
As i went about washing the traps and putting them away and putting the paver back where it went, i realized the raccoons blood smelled just like mine. blood smells metallic. Its a strange and brain-alarming smell. You dont like to smell it when you smell it because instinctively it tells your brain something is wrong. Blood is supposed to be in the body, not outside, if survival is valued. So, the brain says “danger, danger” whenever that metallic smell is in the air. I realized that while i viewed raccoons as very different from me…our blood smelled the same….it was the same color. As a living thing, he probably wasnt that different from me….i concluded this sentence was correct. He wasnt that different from me. He did what he had to do and i did what i had to do. Id carved out a few minutes to process the morning’s events, but i wasnt sorry and i had no pity for the animal. When i put the gun to the trap, it wasnt like the possum i let go because it played dead and i couldnt machete it while it was playing dead…it immediately became a snarling vicious thing, biting the gun, grabbing it and rolling. Coons are my enemy. I desire no souvenir. Just the absence of them. I left the coon in front of the property on the shoulder at the intersection where the buzzards could have at it without disturbing the dogs but close enough for the other coons to interpret the signal, “coons not welcome here”.
I was so focused on getting the coon off the property before it bled, then rinsing the traps before the smell attracted another chicken eating animal, i had completely forgotten about the dogs. When i walked back into the house to put the rifle up, the dogs were waiting behind the door expectantly. I said, “oh, we got him!” I told the dogs excitedly, “it was him….it was that big skinny one thats been coming around. He’s dead. He will not be eating any of our chickens. We got him, we got him.” As i said it i gave the dogs a rough rub down that let them know we were celebrating victory. they wagged their tails and rough housed back with me, play growling and snorting. Cashew stamped the ground. I grabbed and held her face and said, “you knew he was in there didnt you? You’re such a good helper. Such a good dog!” I put the rifle away and set the box of bullets back where i kept it. I then let the dogs out to the dog run. They pranced out the door with heads and tails held high, on cloud 9 and super proud that they had done their part to alert me the critter was in the trap and we had got our guy.
The buzzards turned him over, made two holes in him, and pulled all his innards out the holes, then left the rest of him. Then it rained a bunch and he was very soggy and had grey skin but no more fur. A week later he was just bones.
Sardines was the missing piece of the puzzle. When trapping an animal the type of bait you use is very important. Ive tried to trap raccoons, possums, and armadillos but they never did fancy any of the things i used as bait. Nothing ever got in the trap. Realizing how well sardines worked, im confident that if another coon gets way too interested in the chickens, i can trap him/her and shoot them just the same. I owe that guy at the gas station cuz this was a much easier operation than sitting out in the mosquitos and ants in the dark getting bit and stung by stuff trying to make sure i was there and ready when the coon showed up. my coworker let me keep the trap so i can zip-tie the three together again next time i need to get rid of a nuisance animal that has taken an interest in the chickens.
It is exactly what it sounds like. The baby chickens graduated. Fully feathered and able to regulate their own body temperatures….they went outside.
Poor Sumac has to stay in the house until he is 18 weeks old because he is meant to go in with the older buff orpington hens who are already on adult feed and he is still on chick crumble and half their size so….he did not get to go out with the others on liberation from the bathroom day. I will have to socialize him daily so he doesnt become a sociopath in the meantime. Eventually he will join the buff orpingtons in their pen.
It became that time of year again. The grass in the dog run was green and growing and it was time to mow again. I got all the batteries and chargers out and told cashews to leave the *** ******* mower in peace to do its job and we spent a day making the grass a carpet instead of a jungle again. it was important to at least keep the dog run mowed short to discourage snakes from hanging out around the dogs.
I had to wait for the last frost to plant the grass in the baby chickens’ pen. I didnt want it to freeze after id planted it. I emptied a whole bag of grass seed in there and covered it over with a thin layer of dirt, then watered it daily. Nothing happened. I mean nothing. Not one blade of grass emerged for weeks. I decided it was probably all eaten by birds, who have been known to come eat the grass seed after it is spread. I gave up and went on to do other things. A month later i walked by and noticed tiny little blades of grass! I guess a watched pot never does boil! They werent real impressive but i watered them every day after that nonetheless. When the baby chickens moved in they would have grass for about 12 hours. Thats as long as it took them to make sure it was gone. Oh well. They enjoyed it in the process of scratching it to high heaven and eating some of it. It was probably a nice interactive snack.
One day i came home and the neighbor’s longhorns were right up near the fence. They weren’t friendly like his previous cows so i rarely got a good look at the longhorns but this day no they stayed within view for a good while and i could see all their magnificent patterns.
There are only okra and sungold tomatoes in the garden this year. It is an environment inhospitable to gardening. Ive decided to just do what i can with the greenhouse and grow lights. They are both rather flexible and tolerant plants.
I originally had 2 roosters but the one named mochi died. He came from the hatchery sick and i separated him and nursed him along for a bit but he never did grow a smidgeon and was very lethargic. He ultimately passed. Now i had a problem because i didnt like this experience with this hatchery so if i wanted chocolate orpingtons in the future, i needed to breed them. Well i had one healthy rooster but i needed 2 because i also wanted a rooster in the buff orpington pen to make buff chocolate cross babies. Well, the coworker i had given the remaining chickens to said she thought at least one was a rooster and if it was i was welcome to come get it because she’s not trying to have a ton of roosters. Sure enough, most of the chicks i gave her were roosters. That hatchery swore they were all hens. -_- anyways, i drove out to her property after work one day and picked one out that was clearly a rooster and her five year old grandson got in there and caught him. We put him in a cat taxi and i brought him home. I was hoping the little flock would recognize their brother and accept him and thats exactly what happened. I put him in the brooder box and they all behaved as if he’d never left for several weeks. They were like, “oh hey brother”….unbothered. It was the best case scenario. I would keep sumac with the older buff orpingtons and put the other rooster, jujube, with the young chickens.
I love in the way that Jesus taught me to love. When I love, I love fully. I give freely of myself. Give my effort, my time, my emotion, I am patient, I am measured, I am considerate of the other person’s needs and feelings, I find joy in their strengths and talents, and I give grace where there are weaknesses and flaws. The problem is when I love, because I am putting all that out, I expect it to come back to me. I expect the other person to love in the same way that I love, and not many people that I have encountered know how to give or put forth this kind of love. I expect someone to meet me in the middle, I expect them to meet me where I’m at. I expect them to evolve, grow, communicate, compromise… I expect the same level of effort in evolution that I am putting forth in order to be with them.
Instead, I am met with self involvement, lack of communication, lies, omitting information they think may ruin their chances of getting what they want, and often abuse and manipulation. Every once in a while, I decide to try it again. God has been very clear with me that I am to spend my life alone. He has equipped me with great independence, a love of solitude, and a need for space and freedom. God has given me the tools that I need to spend my life alone. But sometimes, once or twice in a decade, I get the idea that God has put a person in my path who is for me. Of course, it’s always very very wrong, but at the time, there’s always plenty of evidence that this person MUST be hand selected for me. This time, I was sure that this man was for me. He was my height, he had one of the same food allergies I did, he had a very similar family dynamic and upbringing to what I did, he also worked in a healthcare profession where he was helping people, often saving their lives in an emergency. He also had troubling childhood memories and stories of patients he had helped that stuck with him. He was also an introvert who recharged his batteries by spending time alone. He also enjoyed nature and the solitude it had to offer. In his previous job, he had driven the same route between the same small towns in the hill country that I had worked for a contract job. We knew the same route to the same stores in the same small towns. He had similar clothing habits to me, and was also of the opinion that making the bed is a futile waste of time because in a few hours you’re just going to get back in it and both of us lived alone so who would be there to see that the bed was made anyway? He liked all the same stand-up comedians, TV sitcoms, some of the same movies that I liked, and our favorite rapper was Eminem for exactly the same reasons. He is a very clever lyricist, and in my opinion, a damn solid rapper. He could recite all the lines of his favorite sitcom just the way I could. We even liked the same breed of cat. Maine coons are just the best. We shared an addiction to twist of lime mineral water. We were both night owls that had trouble calling it and going to bed, but could sleep readily during the day. We both loved to listen to the rain. He had just bought his first house and I had bought my first house seven years ago. He was now going through all the things that I had gone through seven years ago and I was able to let him learn from my experiences and pick my brain. He also bought his first lawnmower and happened to pick the exact same kind I did in the Home Depot. We literally had interchangeable batteries that could be used by either mower. He was now learning to mow a lawn the way I had seven years ago. He was a firefighter. They are all trained as EMTs and most of their calls are medical. Occasionally, he would fight a fire. Most of the time, like me, he was dealing with patients. However, he would see the patient in the middle of the emergency, and I would see a patient after they had been brought to the hospital and operated on. It seemed perfect. I was a very independent person with a career that I loved which took up a lot of my time and mental bandwidth. I was also someone running a Homestead by myself who was not at the moment in the market to get rid of it and go play house with someone. He was someone who insisted upon working every overtime shift available, so he was doing about four 24 hour shifts a week. That meant that when he was home, he mostly just wanted to rest and nap and play his Xbox or watch TV. I figured he was on eharmony because as a firefighter it’s hard to find somebody who wants to deal with four 24 hour shifts a week. Most people want to sleep next to their boyfriend or husband at night, and as a firefighter you sleep at the station. Most people want to be taken out, entertained, go dancing, go to a movie; go do stuff. After being on call constantly for 24 hours or sometimes 48 hours, showing up to people’s emergencies and trying to save their lives all the time, he just wanted to recharge. I was also an introvert who did not enjoy going out and being entertained. Napping, TV, recharge… That all appealed to me. I had my own less high-stress job, but still pretty high-stress. I also needed to recharge on my off days. My only days off were Saturday and Sunday, so two or three times a month those days off lined up for both of us and we could spend a day together. In my opinion, this was the perfect amount of time spent together. He could have his separate life, I could have my separate life, he could have his family, I could have my couple close friends, he could have his career, I could have my career, he could have his drinking, and I could have my homesteading. We overlapped schedules once a week except for once a month when he would work both Saturday and Sunday. He would text me “good morning”, text me “good night”, and ask me how my shift was going at lunch break. I would do the same for him. He initiated this routine but I loved it. As someone on the spectrum, my nervous system craved consistency and routine, and in him I found it. In the beginning, he was obsessed with the Spurs and wanted to watch the games but when he was on call, if the bell rang, he had to go climb into the firefighters version of an ambulance and make a call. So he gave me the password to his streaming service and I would take notes on anything that happened during the game. This was difficult to do because I was in the middle of the country, watching it on my cell phone, so to record it in the notes app, I would have to minimize the window and then type what happened in the Notes app…then go back to watching the game. But I did manage to record everything that happened in those basketball games and if he stopped texting for a while I would assume he was on a call. When he said hello again, I would text him the notes so he could catch up on what he missed while he was on the call. So and so made a basket from midcourt. So and so pushed the player from the other team in anger. So and so threw the ball to his teammate, but his teammate wasn’t there and he didn’t check before he let the ball go. We both loved boxing so he gave me his password and username to another streaming service where I could watch boxing matches. He watched it at the station and I’d watch it at home on my cell phone. We would discuss afterwards. The sex was amazing. That’s all
I’m gonna say about that. He’s a caffeinated, testosterone-fueled, adrenaline-junkie firefighter; you do the math. He would let me wear his clothes when I came over. When I left, he would give me one of his sugar-free energy drinks to keep me awake on the drive home, and he would put on one of his spurs sweatshirts so it would start smelling like his body wash and deodorant, and then I got to take it with me when I left so that I’d have something of his until I saw him again. I loved him. I fell in love with the man that I met. I’ll never know how much of the human being that I met in the beginning of our relationship was real. I’ll never really be able to decipher how much of what happened was self sabotage or just him taking the nice person mask off and showing his teeth. It’s hard to tell in people with trauma. People with childhood trauma do really well while single and struggle to function in a relationship because when you are single, you don’t have to deal with any of the stuff that comes up when you are sharing your space or your body with someone. When there is vulnerability or any sort of attachment, fear and avoidance can come into play. Self sabotage rears it’s ugly head, and you can become a completely different person for several reasons. There’s also a thing called coercive control. Sometimes this stems from narcissism, and sometimes it is part of self sabotage. I will never know exactly which reasons my relationship fell apart and the person I loved disappeared, but I pretty much had to mourn the death of him, because the person I was left with was not the same person I fell in love with, and he did not feel the same way about me that the person I fell in love with did. At some point, I went from having a boyfriend who cherished me, tried to meet my every need, cared about me, anticipated my feelings, and wanted to know my thoughts….to someone who just wanted me to go away most of the time. When I was present, there were a lot of rules about my behavior, the amount of talking, the methods of talking, my clothing.
I had to realize i was being manipulated. I had to realize that i was playing a game there was no way to win because i was meant to be kept in turmoil and off kilter. Every time he expressed unhappiness i changed what i was doing to try to meet his identified need, and as soon as i changed what i was doing to remedy the situation, he moved the goal post and wanted something else. If he wanted more time with me i adjusted my schedule and got paid less, then hurried everything in my work day and woke up super early so that i could also come see him on a weekday after work in rush hour traffic. He didnt want to leave any overtime on the table but he was okay with me not getting my full 36 hours a week because i had to shorten a regular work day to go see him. As soon as i did that he’d say my presence was draining and suffocating him and he’d like just two hour visits 3 times a month. So i’d agree to this new change and then he’d say, well now he wants two hour visits but multiple times a week. He said he was too drained from work to go out and just wanted to stay in, so we stayed in. Then he said i had trapped him in the house doing nothing and he wanted to go do something. I gave suggestions and then specifically asked what he wanted to do. He wanted to go to the zoo. Okay, we will go to the zoo. As soon as i was okay with going to the zoo he said it was going to be too hot and involve too much walking in the heat and he didnt really like to be around that many people at once.
There was also this thing he’d do where he’d start doing a behavior that may be not enjoyed by most people and then ask me if i was enjoying it or not enjoying it. He used to jump on top of me on the couch and lay on top of me. Its kind of a bold thing to do with someone you just started dating. Its a massive and imposing invasion of space and may be unwelcome. But me being on the spectrum it was like a deep pressure hug and his body weight made the world feel bearable for a while, like i could breathe. He asked repeatedly, “am i smooshing you?” And i thought it odd, because like yeah duh, obviously you’re aware of that if you are asking… but the strange thing i didnt clock until later is that when i said i enjoyed it, he stopped doing it. After a while, anything i enjoyed….he stopped doing. He seemed to be trying to do things i wouldnt like and trying to avoid ever again doing things i wouldnt like. In the beginning he specifically said he felt we could handle anything that arose in life together and he wanted me to tell him anytime something was troubling me or on my mind because he wanted to be able to be there for me. Then he said i needed to limit texts to 4 or 5 sentences each and no phone calls. He originally started out holding my hand everywhere. In the end he took away hand holding. He initially started texting me the heart emoji and kissing face emoji. In the end he refused to use either of those ever again. He turned out to be a functional alcoholic who sobered up on his work days and drank 24 beers on his off days. He couldnt have just one, and he was an absolute ass when drunk. I expressed i didnt want to be around him when drunk so he started calling me on the phone. One night he called me to tell me he wants to play father to some ex girlfriend’s teenage daughter who is not his because he doesnt have children and she always wished he was her dad so he’s gonna go have lunch with her and her older sister is pregnant and living in her car and the younger sister expressed she needed a place to stay and he thought that she was hoping he would say oh come stay at my house….it was a very strange conversation for me at 1 am. I just listened. I knew better than to talk sense in his direction when he was drunk. He got upset that i wouldnt express any of my opinions and i told him that i was afraid he’d end up breaking my heart and that i’d talk to him tomorrow when he was sober. Whenever he got drunk he’d do or say something unfixable. One day he put his hand over my mouth and before i knew it my head was in the couch cushion. I could not get his hand off of my mouth, nor could i move his arm that was holding me down. They are literally paid to work out on the job. He is way stronger than me. I struggled to free myself but ultimately…he released me. I was not able to get free of my own strength. That scared me. There was a thing that he wanted to do in the bedroom that someone had done to me during a sexual assault. I had really negative memories attached to it so that was a no brainer on my part and i told him no. He had so much more access to my body whenever he wanted but he wanted to do this one bedroom act that was his “favorite” and because i wouldnt let him do it, it ended up being one of the things on his list of “deal breakers” after i broke up with him. He had been so emotionally abusive, manipulative, and just downright mean the week before. I had called him on his behavior and told him i could tell he resented me for something and i wanted to know what and moving forwards we needed to have more open communication and share needs rather than hating the other person for not meeting unexpressed needs. He and i made a list of all his needs and preferences and hurtful as they were, i agreed to try and meet them and set about altering my behavior to do so. It was awkward between us for a couple days as i felt pretty wounded and he felt i’d called him out on his poor communication and past trauma and trust was broken between us. But i bucked up and put my big girl panties on, swallowed my pride, and kept working on it. He started trying to acknowledge it when i had gone out of my way to meet one of his needs and be a bit less downright mean. We were having a good conversation, connecting intellectually, sharing humorous memes and jokes, and he sent me a clip of the office saying the situation i described made him think of that episode of the office. I loved it and told him that the way back to my heart if we ever weren’t getting along, was definitely “the office” clips. Everything was fine when i went to bed. Then he texted me, “im going to start drinking.” At 2 in the morning he texted me the most asinine dick-ish text you could send to another human being. It was thousands of words long and it was just a big list of everything that was wrong with me. He listed my autism, my adhd, my hypothyroidism, my food allergies, my infertility, the fact that i wear altra tennis shoes, the fact that i wear cotton clothes….. he listed things that he swore up and down he was fine with as possible deal breakers. He basically said that he could see that i tried very hard for “us”, that i really really tried, but he had just started thinking about whether these things would be deal breakers down the road and he just wasnt sure i was good enough for him or he wanted to put up with all my specific needs anymore, the more he thought about it. This was coming from a man who swore up and down to me that he was real and i could trust him, who told me i was beautiful just the way i was and didnt need makeup, who told me he didnt want children because if you find out you dont like them or cant handle them, you cant send them back. This was coming from someone who also had food allergies and weird clothing preferences and demonstrated some serious symptoms of being on the spectrum himself. This was someone who told me no one in his family finished high school so i’d be fancy amongst them because i had a college degree. Now he wasnt sure i was good enough for him. I wasnt sure if he was someone with multiple personalities, had a jekel and hyde dynamic with his drunk and sober selves, or was a narcissist trying to exercise coercive control but i was sure that this was abuse. This text was glaringly out of line. Especially because i’d spent the last week with a paper list of all his needs i was supposed to newly adhere to, because they’d changed once again, and he’d long since stopped caring to meet mine. There were no more foot rubs, no more compliments, no more sweet emojis, and his texts came later and later every morning and got shorter and shorter. He stopped looking at me with excitement and started looking at me with resentment or indifference, but he still took what he wanted in the bedroom. Thats what bothered me in the end. In the beginning he said “i really like you” so much and then in the end it was “im just not sure i like you”. If you’re not sure you like someone you shouldnt be sleeping with them. When i broke up with him he said “i really do care about you and loved cuddling you and just holding you and want to let you know that if you’re ever alone or feel like you really need someone to talk to you can talk to me, because i still care about you.” So, its hard to know what was real and what wasnt. He is a person who contradicts himself a lot. He’s a hypocrite. He’s also admitted that he outright lies when he thinks its what people want to hear. He told me that i was spending too much time with him 3 times a month and then when he sent that massive list of everything that was wrong with me at 2 am, one of his complaints was that i was always busy. If 3 visits a month is too much time spent with you, why would you seek to lower the amount of hours i can work, and the amount of hobbies and friends i can have? I told him flat out i wasnt going to live a smaller life for him because he was uncomfortable with the one i had built, especially since he wanted so few hours of my time….that was a no.
I wrote him back a very long text of my own, highlighting every contradiction and hypocrisy and listing all his unrealistic expectations and identifying why they were asinine. If you want a girl who is not going to require a lot of your time, you should expect her to have a job and be hyper independent because if you find a girl that doesnt have a job or an income and has infinite time for you, they’re gonna be live in and want more of your time than 2 hours 3 times a month. Its strange to me to judge someone for being lactose intolerant as an individual with lactose intolerance. Its also pretty unfair to list genetic conditions as possible deal breakers when you had a chance to say no to that up front and said you were fine with them and now once drunk, you the alcoholic with lactose intolerance requires a genetic viking with no flaws. We had had a conversation surrounding kids when he got drunk and called me about playing dad to that random ex’s daughter. I told him i thought he had the capacity to be a good dad but he’d have to get sober. He said, “no, you gotta be way drunk to deal with those little people.” I had told him he was wrong about that…that babies actually explore the world by putting things in their mouth. Kids explore things by climbing them and launching themselves off of them. Small children are actually pretty suicidal little beings by default in the beginning of their lives and its kind of a full time job keeping them alive. I said, “you cant be passed out on the couch with a baby. You gotta make sure they are fed every few hours, their diapers are regularly changed, that they havent stopped breathing, eaten something poisonous, swallowed a battery, that they arent feverish, experiencing a medical problem, or rolling or falling off of something. When they’re kids you gotta make sure they dont fall, stick a fork in the electrical socket, microwave metal, set the kitchen towel on fire, and bust their sibling’s head open on the edge of the coffee table. You cant be 23 beers in for that. He laughed and told me i was wrong. That should have been a clue that he was not a good person. I was just so enamored with the person i had been shown initially. The comment didnt fit with the personality i thought he had. So i filed it in the “strange things” folder and dropped it. I would revisit it later when i realized that on some level he had lied about who he was and he was showing me a different version of himself now and i was not likely to see the other version back again. There were other warning signs. He wanted control of everything. Especially my body. He wanted to put me where he wanted me and he didnt want me to move. He wanted to do to me, not with me. But i was a leo and i didnt stand for that so i guess he didnt get what he wanted. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, the way he wanted it. I liked to cook instead of order take out, for many reasons. Less limited options, less risk of food allergies triggered, less money spent, less wasteful…he ate out every meal. I didnt begrudge him that but he was very bothered that i chose to buy something at heb and make it when he ordered food to the door from a fast food restaurant each time. I’d also be so overweight if i ate french fries every meal because thats basically what my options were on the menu with food allergies. I cooked my own food. He didnt have to expend any effort. Sometimes i just got a microwaveable rice bowl or sushi at heb instead of french fries at mcdonalds. It was pretty instant, but for some reason this was a “possible deal breaker” for him after i broke up with him. He used to put my hair in my face a lot. He would do it during intimacy and also when i was lying on the couch. Id expressed multiple times that i did not like this and i always moved it out of my face immediately and each time he put it back in my face i’d move it again. It was creepy. He wanted me to be still, take whatever he wanted to give, and have my hair completely covering my face. It felt like he was trying on for size what it would be like to have control over a dead person. I dont know how to explain why i felt that way, i just did. He would become angry, annoyed and frustrated when i would move my own hair out of my face. If he were a loving partner he’d respect that i didnt want it there and let me have control over where my hair was but he didnt seem to care anout me when it came down to it and for some reason it was really important to him that i have all of my hair in my face. When i moved it he would immediately put it back and hold it there for a second before letting go, as if that would make me not wipe it away. It didnt start out like this. This is where it ended up. It was a gradual slide into this…with me searching earnestly for where the person i fell in love with had gone, the whole way down.
There was another incident i remember where he asked me if i prayed every day that all the patients got sick or hurt and went to the hospital so i didnt have to see them and could go home early. He had said, “i mean not to be mean but it’s just what i would do were i in your position.” I didnt like the question. My immediate thought was “good thing you’re not in my position” and then “why on earth would that be what you would do? You told me you like to help people…”. I couldnt make sense of why he’d said what he said or what it meant, so i just focused logically on answering the question. I had said, “first of all, no, because if all the patients leave and you have no one to see, you dont get paid. Its pretty hard to pay the mortgage on zero hours of pay.” This was an oversight on his part because he gets paid for his whole shift whether theres a call or not and he thought therapy worked the same way. He thought you just got paid for a whole day even if there was nothing to do and you could just watch tv until there was something to do. Nope. I have to be working every single minute im on that clock. There is no down time. If the “to do” leaves, so do you and your on the clock time is finished for the day. I said, “secondly, morally, thats awful. I care about the patients and i want them to do well and progress, not get hurt and go to the hospital, so no, i dont pray all the patients get hurt or injured on my shift and go to the hospital so i can go home.” That should have been a BIG clue. But, he had trained me that he said things he didnt mean when drunk, and i assumed this was another one of those things. When someone is so so so wonderful to you for an extended period of time and then they morph into another meaner terrible person…it takes a while to sort out if they’re ever coming back and whether its a vice, childhood trauma, personality disorder, or just the influence of the devil that is rendering this new personality front and center.
He’ll always be a blurr for me. I’ll never know what percentage of what version of him was real, but i did realize some truths after i left. 1. He is a person who likes total and complete control. 2. There is no harmony or homeostasis to be had because when you do what is asked the goal post will always be moved and you’ll have to start over trying to do what he wants now. 3. He is a person who can lie convincingly with a straight face and you’ll never know the difference between lie and truth from looking at him. 4. He is an alcoholic and he’s a mean drunk. 5. He is someone who likes to do things that make one uncomfortable and ceases doing things when he learns you like them. 6. He does not believe in God even though he has a figure of Jesus on his keychain. 7. He’s much stronger than me physically and has made sure i knew that a few times. I would not win in a physical conflict of any sort. 8. I dont think he’s a good person. I dont think he works his career for the right reasons. Some people want to help people and others are just addicted to clout and adrenaline.
Unfortunately, he and all the personalities he told me about at the various fire stations he worked overtime at, have colored my view of fire fighters and i kind of look at them all warily now, as womanizing testosterone fueled jerks putting each others clothing in the sink and the freezer and using a whole roll of duct tape on each others bedding and putting their buddies personal items on the roof, and wanting to hurry up a medical call so they can go back and watch the spurs game. I stay away from fire fighters now. I see that there is a culture there at the station that i find toxic, childish, and unevolved. Whenever his buddy would get divorced they’d all say good riddens what a bitch. They would never wonder if maybe the amount of time the husband could spare and the emotional availability made her feel single within her marriage. Their motto seemed to be solve everything with food, sex, and fire. They love fighting fire and they’ll fight over who gets to answer an actual fire call vs a med call. They dont care that the other crew put it out…just that they didnt get to do it. They want some action. I hope that there are fire fighters out there that do it for other reasons than chasing a high and wearing their gear around the community. He told me his chief said to wear their gear places so they get royal treatment. I hope there are less arrogant fire fighters out there who just want to help people, like i want to help my patients. But im not ever gonna peek in that world again. I will just hope there are and leave that to the universe.
This is messy, raw and disorganized, and thats just how it has to be if im going to write about it, because its messy and disorganized in my head and we might be here many years before i sort it into an organized state. I also dont want to think about it any more than i have to. I went searching for a partner on eharmony because by january this year i was estranged from my dad’s family, my mom’s family, and my adoptive family. My life was pretty quiet. Holidays are spent alone in the tiny house with the dogs. Sometimes i get all 3 of us a good snack to eat and sometimes i just ignore it all together and treat it like any other day. Theres no one to update about your day. Theres no one to talk politics or current events with. No one to send something funny that you’ve just seen. I couldnt deal with toxic and manipulative people anymore so i gave them an ultimatum. Join me in recovery and go to therapy to change the insane dynamic between us or live without me. They chose live without me. I went on with my healing alone. I will always continue to try to grow and evolve as i age. I will always have therapy sessions when needed, and i will never stop assessing what im doing in this world and why. I get that not that many people around me want to do this, but it will not govern in any way what i am doing myself. I will make the hard decision if i know its right. So i found myself utterly alone. A coworker had been love bombing me for a year and so i decided to explore whether that was just someone using me as a daily dopamine boost or someone who really did like me. I asked him if he would ever be interested in hanging out outside of work. Initially he said yes. We planned a couple possible date activities and he said that sounds like fun. He was supposed to let me know when he had a free day and he came and waved at me excited on that first day, then pretended id never existed and turned his back or ran away when i walked by or came in the room. He turned out to have a fearful avoidant attachment style. I had politely let him off the hook and made a commitment to move on and be civil, and i kept my word. He then flipped back and forth between holding doors for me and asking me how i was, following me everywhere to ignoring my existence and shipping me to tim-buk-tu. But i went on eharmony to find someone who wanted a relationship…someone who was not avoidant or afraid of me. I wanted someone who wanted to be with me. And i thought i found it. In the end, i just found one more person with a list of everything that was wrong with me, interested in doing a yoyo push pull thing of now i want you now i dont. I ended it, gave him a piece of my mind, mailed his clothes and his would be christmas present back to him (it was a spurs potholder….he takes things out of the oven with a wash cloth and he’s a firefighter with burns all over his arms because he does battle with the oven every time he cooks), ended things initially civilly and then when he got nasty (probably drunk again), blocked him.
I was devastated, but i didnt have time to hide from the world and cry about it. The activities directors pulled me aside at work and told me i’d been quiet for a week, that they could tell i wasnt my usual self….well, i’d had my heart ripped out of my chest and put through a wood chipper and i was trying to learn to function as single again after getting used to being half of a couple and taking someone else’s thoughts and feelings into account with every decision i made and updating somebody about my day 3 times a day. Suddenly things had shifted and i had to get back into the saddle of being single again. I was also waiting for the results of a pretty scary blood test to see if i’d made a temporary mistake or a permanent mistake. Lucky for me, the answer was temporary mistake. But my point is, in such a time, you’re not gonna be your usual self. You just have to keep fulfilling your responsibilities and put one foot in front of the other. During this time i dealt with a dead chicken, trapping and killing my first raccoon, joining a new church, a snake problem, nearly bleeding out due to an allergic reaction to a medication but not having the money or insurance to go to the er for a blood transfusion so just staying home and washing the blood out of everything and laying on trash bags for less clean up, having to lower the dose of my thyroid med resulting in chronic fatigue like i cant believe, navigating another historic flood, learning to change a tire and then having to change one by myself at dawn on a saturday because driving through all the flood debris i kept getting flats and i had a full day of patients two cities away because i missed two days due to the flood. Even when im hurting, even when im scared, im not useless and im not incompetent. I will always handle my shit at the homestead and i will always show up and do my job for the patients and i will never be that person who yells or be’s snippy with coworkers because im going through something. If me being quiet is the only way they know something is going on then i have succeeded. My coworker could tell i was really sad one evening when it was just him and i doing paperwork. He invited me to the church he and his wife attend. I said no thanks. I just never found another church i liked as much as the one i had when i lived in castle hills, so i still emailed that pastor with prayer requests, tithed to that church, and watched the sermons via podcast. But i had no in person fellowship or church family because id moved too far away. He asked me what i liked about that church. I told him that i felt people subscribed to the “i stand in church so i am a christian” theory and it wasnt correct any more than the idea that someone standing in a garage would be a car. How you live your life is what makes you a christian, not where you stand or what you wear or how much money you give or what songs you sing. I felt like people in this city just went to church to compare their kids and judge each other’s outfits and life choices and everyone just wanted to see whose grass was greenest. I told him the people at castle hills christian church were all going through something devastating. They were all in genuine pain and they were seeking God, because they needed him, not there just to get their good person card stamped and come back again next week. They were really genuine to one another. Pain makes you raw and being raw makes you capable of empathy towards others. These people were real and they didnt do anything fake and they showed up hungry for sustenance in the way of scripture because they were drowning and they needed that life raft God offered. There was no judging or comparison, gossip or nonsense. My coworker said, “Let me tell you about my pastor whose son took his own life, whose wife divorced him, and who recently lost his property and his goats that he loved.” To be clear, i dont want any of those things to have happened to him. But, when i heard that, i knew it wasnt my coworker inviting me back to church. It was God, orchestrating an invitation to a place i was probably supposed to be. I did accept the invitation and immediately i knew i was in the place where i was supposed to be. There were jigsaw puzzles in the sanctuary, you could eat in the sanctuary, and several people told me i could attend church in flip flops if i wanted to…that God did not care what i wore when i came to him and there was no dress code or go between needed to speak with Jesus. I immediately realized i was supposed to be here and started going to church with my coworker and his wife every weekend. Ive been feeling so “less than” lately because this person in my life who called themselves my partner and lifted me up so much in the beginning then left on a note of “you’re not good enough for me because you have an autoimmune disorder, because your hair thins sometimes due to the hashimotos, because you are infertile and cant make babies, because you are autistic, because you have adhd, because you cant eat out at most restaurants due to food allergies…”. I left him because you dont treat people like that but his words still played on repeat in my head and i truly, truly felt worthless. I made myself go to the fellowship event. I didnt want to go. I told myself i wasnt like the other people. What would i even do there, socialize? I hated to socialize. I was an introvert. A deeply flawed damaged unvaluable human being. What could i possibly contribute to a fellowship event at the park other than dragging them down with my recent weird quietness. But the blood test had been negative and i had made God a promise that if it was negative i’d never again focus on men and instead focus on church. This was church. I needed to go. So i went. I got lost and couldnt find the right pavilion and even encountered a flooded road but i still made myself keep trying to find it. Eventually i saw my coworker’s car and stopped and collaborated with him until we found it. I immediately found all the dogs and said hi to them. They were fluffy and friendly and balm to a bleeding soul. Then i sat with some people wondering what i was doing there. Slowly, slowly, i realized every person at the table was going through something huge. This one was newly sober, that one just left the womens shelter after an abusive marriage, this one was trying to regain custody of their kids, that one had a rare autoimmune disorder and her daughter did too and they were both still loved and valuable people leading full lives. This one was battling cancer. That one just got a service dog and was dealing with a lot. I realized that i had forgotten….God uses broken people to reach broken people. Yep, i am not whole. And neither are these people. And they’re all so very valuable. And the fact that they show up for each other, genuinely, when they are struggling to cope with basic life because of what’s on their plate….broken people are more effective at reaching broken people because you see God through them. Because you believe the King or the Barbie is capable of great grace, great mercy, great wisdom, and when they display it, you become enamored with the human. When someone utterly broken and destroyed has grace, mercy, and wisdom…you see God, because they themselves cant muster all those things in the middle of complete and total devastation and feelings of despair and worthlessness. When those people crawl out of their own darkness on hands and knees to help their neighbor up from theirs…thats God showing up and doing what we cant. I am broken. I am flawed, but not worthless. Just as these people are all their own version of broken in some way and they are incredibly valuable and genuine people. One even wrote a book on how to dive into the bible for those who didnt grow up with it and does prison ministry. These people can be broken and still have much to offer this world and each other. Life is still very tangled and muddy for me, especially since the flood. I struggle with “why” often but the message i am getting is we dont get to or need to know why…we can doubt and question and fully believe in God at the same time. This pastor says doubt leads to deeper questions and deeper questions lead to deeper conversation about the bible. He is not afraid of “why” and doesnt feel the question is a betrayal of faith in God. I dont know the answers to all the “whys” right now but i do know that im supposed to be at this church on sundays, im supposed to see my patients, and im supposed to run my homestead. Im going to continue doing those things. Slowly, there are moments that make me smile now. There are moments where i am able to joke or enthusiastically greet people. There is still a great deal of despair, but there are moments where i forget whats been going on around me lately and my old self makes an appearance. I think this heartbreak wasnt a complete loss….it led me back to church.