Page 177 - From the Outhouse 4 -21
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177 | P A T R I C I A R A E M E R R I T T W H A T L E Y
One Christmas holiday, Kamili and I traveled to Chicago by train to visit one of my old high school boyfriends. I hadn’t seen him for
about 20 years, and we refreshed our acquaintance. During this time, I was suffering from anxiety attacks due to being homeless in
Miami and having a second divorce. Actually, a form of depression had set in, and it had gotten to the point that I feared flying.
While in Chicago, red flags waved high in this relationship. I really felt something strange was happening before I left Sanford, but I
ignored it. Let me say, when you feel there is something wrong with a relationship, it probably is something wrong. Please don’t ignore
your feelings – they are internal warnings that red flags exist!
The very first day that I arrived, it was evident that this picture was weird. A Caucasian lady and her son were living in my friend’s
home. Supposedly, this was a temporary living situation. Not really the case! Lies were told by both parties, and besides that, it became
clear that my former boyfriend was now an alcoholic.
Then, too, I was on the narcotic oxycodone, and this experience made everything miserable. To be totally honest, I spent ten days in
mass confusion. I decided that this man was not going to provide the love and security I thought he could. I realized that once again,
I was putting my faith in man and not in God. This trip caused me to get on my knees, especially when his alcohol started to display
a monster-type character. He was not the kind person I had known in high school. He even made me cry – A MAJOR RED FLAG
– especially when he drank. I knew that this relationship was not for me.
I began to pray and cry out to Father God on my knees in the bathroom. “Rescue me from this terrible relationship. Give me the
courage to release my anxiety and fly back home. Help me Lord God for the second time to really restructure my life for my sake and
for my son.” After I prayed, I flushed all the oxycodone pills down the toilet and called my father to wire me money that I had left
home. I added the money he sent to the refund I got for the round-trip train ticket, and I had enough money to take a flight. Two
days later, Kamili and I flew back to Sanford. By now, I had become an expert at leaving situations that were not conducive to my