edgarallenfrog: (i'm right)
I remember when I reached the point where I couldn't ignore it or pretend that nothing had happened to me anymore. I also remember thinking "I should have gotten help when it happened," but the reality is that I tried to get help, and the people who were supposed to take care of me didn't take care of me. And I know (because they've been very vocal about this) that a lot of people look at my life and my decisions and conclude that I didn't REALLY try to get help and I didn't make the right decisions and I'm all to blame for where I'm at in my life right now. I know I have a lot of moments where I look back and want to kick myself for the mistakes I've made and the person I've become.

Here's what I'm slowly realizing. The person that I am is totally imperfect, and she's a manipulative bitch, and in a lot of ways she's just like my mother...but the fact that I can look back and realize that and acknowledge it as a shortcoming means that I'm lightyears ahead of where my mother was when I saw her doing the things that I'm doing and it means I'm likely to be able to stop myself before I do a lot of the things that she did (just because I'm like her doesn't mean I'm going to abuse my own kids someday, for example). Also, it's ok for me to be flawed and imperfect. Everybody is. They might not be able to look back and have such clear cut reasons for being flawed and imperfect, but they are (even when they don't admit it and act like condescending dickheads who make me want to stab them in the eye).

One of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me is when I finally got up the nerve to tell one of my LJ friends the gist of my story, and he paused for a minute, then he said "Wow...I'm so impressed with you right now." And here I'm thinking, "You're IMPRESSED with ME? I'm working fast food and I'm in debt and I'm barely making it through from paycheck to paycheck..." and he said "I'm impressed that you're trying to hold down a job and you sought out an education and you're seeking God and seeking truth. It could be worse. You could be out on the street hooking for crack rock." And you know, I've never thought of it that way before. I'm always so amazed when people have positive things to say about me because I'm used to hearing what a scumbag I am and how everything that's gone wrong in my life is my fault and blah blah blah blah, but the truth is, I'm still trying, and even if that's NOT enough, it has to be, because that's all I have. My friend Dave likes to quote Thích Nhất Hạnh, where he says something about how all a flower has to do is EXIST to be beautiful, the flower just exists, and on its own, that is enough, and how we humans think so much in terms of what we do, when we don't take the time to appreciate how we can just BE (we're human BEings, not human DOings) and it is enough for us just to BE.

Of course, that all sounds like bullshit to my ears, but somehow, I know it's true even though I don't always believe it. That everybody's made mistakes, that my mistakes aren't the horridly egregious errors that I always want to see them as (even the grammar errors in that run-on sentence I just typed), that not only can I move on but I AM moving on and I'm doing the best that I can, and that is enough, no matter what I or anyone says. It is enough. I am enough.

edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (inspiration)
Here is a review of the Day of Silence/Night of Noise 2009 in pictures.

Dial Up Beware, You're in for a Scare )

At the end of the event, I ripped the duct tape off my mouth and screamed pretty loud. I think it was fitting. I think is was awesome that my priest came by to visit. Bryce just left a church after years of serving because they wouldn't allow him to continue there because he's gay, and he was so amazed that my church not only accepts me but welcomes me and affirms me and believes this is the way I'm supposed to be (because the Priest talked about her wife like every normal spouse does...because they ARE normal) and I was so grateful to her for taking the time to be there and be real and show people that not everyone is going to condemn them, and give them hope that maybe God doesn't condemn them, either. I know I'm starting to get glimmers of that hope myself, and it's an awesome feeling.

Best of all, the church people didn't make good on their threats. They didn't show up. Thankfully they're mostly all talk. Apart from the terrifying bus ride and some nasty comments from people walking by (which were hard, don't get me wrong) I discovered that the overall feeling I'm left with is one of great gratitude. Near the end of the night, the newer guy in the group, Bryce, came up to where I was holding my sign, and he gave me a hug and said if anyone tries to mess with me again, he'll back me up. That might sound silly, but it gave me such a sense of friendship and even kind of family that I've been missing out on for a long time. For the first time in years, I'm full of all this hope. Hope that Bryce comes to church and finds out that God doesn't condemn him, hope that I find out God doesn't condemn me (or that I start to believe what I already know, if that makes sense), hope that I have a place and that Bryce has a place and that we all have a place in the world and that we can find it together. At the end of the day, I tore the duct tape off my mouth and screamed, and everyone laughed and congratulated me, and it really felt like a family event...and I'm grateful to God for giving me that (giving us all that hope) and I'm glad to share it with you, too.

I love you all. Thanks for listening.


Feb. 28th, 2009 10:12 am
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (music obsession)
You know what? Lamentations is the best book of the bible ever. And I get tired of taking crap for saying that,too. Yeah, Lamentations is sad and often depressing (it's called "Lamentations," does it sound like it's going to be a laugh a minute riot, people?) I had someone tell me once "Of course Lamentations is your favorite book of the bible, it's depressing and nothing good happens in it and it lets you sit and think depressing thoughts instead of turning to the people around you who could help you." Yep, someone actually said that to me. I know some real winners, let me tell you. But anyway, a lot of people think of Lamentations as nothing but a depressing book of the bible that can offer no hope, and that's a short-sighted view if I ever heard one. After all, Lamentations contains what is probably the most encouraging passage in the whole bible:

Lamentations 3

1 [a] I am the man who has seen affliction
by the rod of his wrath.

2 He has driven me away and made me walk
in darkness rather than light;

3 indeed, he has turned his hand against me
again and again, all day long.

4 He has made my skin and my flesh grow old
and has broken my bones.

5 He has besieged me and surrounded me
with bitterness and hardship.

6 He has made me dwell in darkness
like those long dead.

7 He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.

8 Even when I call out or cry for help,
he shuts out my prayer.

9 He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
he has made my paths crooked.

10 Like a bear lying in wait,
like a lion in hiding,

11 he dragged me from the path and mangled me
and left me without help.

12 He drew his bow
and made me the target for his arrows.

13 He pierced my heart
with arrows from his quiver.

14 I became the laughingstock of all my people;
they mock me in song all day long.

15 He has filled me with bitter herbs
and sated me with gall.

16 He has broken my teeth with gravel;
he has trampled me in the dust.

17 I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.

18 So I say, "My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the LORD."

19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.

20 I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

24 I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;

26 it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

Wow, how discouraging. Let me tell you why people don't like Lamentations. Because it's a bunch of Laments that Jeremiah is writing, talking about hor horrible and dark and bad things are, how badly his people need God. It's full of sorrow, it's full of questions, it's full of anger, and it's full of people crying out to God waiting for God to answer. And then you get to the end of this book and despite that awesome shot of hope there in chapter 3, this is how the book ends:

Lamentations 5

19 You, O LORD, reign forever;
your throne endures from generation to generation.

20 Why do you always forget us?
Why do you forsake us so long?

21 Restore us to yourself, O LORD, that we may return;
renew our days as of old

22 unless you have utterly rejected us
and are angry with us beyond measure.

You know what? I LOVE THAT. The ending is these people feeling totally rejected by God, saying, "hey God, you're awesome, you're great, you reign forever, and so...save us, plz, k thx bye." BAM it's over. That's all she wrote. Because these people are living in darkness but praying and hoping for light, admitting that they feel like maybe they should add a caveat, "Hey God, um...you don't have to save us if you're going to stay angry forever instead" because it's taken God so long to answer that they don't know what else to say and they figure he might be pissed off at them for eternity so they should just acknowledge that. But they're still seeking God. Still looking up. And man, is THAT ever me. That's been me my entire life. And I'm tired of living in a culture that doesn't seem to want me to see that. They don't seem to want to acknowledge the darkness. They call pessimists bad. Pessimists ignore half the information and only focus on the bad, blah blah blah yadda yadda. Ok, that's fine, but if pessimists are wrong, then optimists are wrong, too. they ignore half the information, too. they only focus on the good and they don't acknowledge the bad and that's only half the story, too. Why don't we hear people railing on optimists? Why aren't people reaming them out day after day the way they do the pessimists? Because it's GOOD to only focus on half the story and ignore the rest if it makes you hop around shitting rainbows and pissing sunshine, right? Fuck that. You walk around listening to everyone saying "SMILE" at you every five minutes and see how much of a fucking complex you have by the end of the day. Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I wasn't smiling enough for you, here, let me adjust myself so as not to darken your day. I walk around thinking things are ok, I'm surviving, I'm ok, and then someone says "SMILE why don't you?" and that fucks up the whole mess by reminding me that I don't "LOOK HAPPY" even if I AM HAPPY. If it's that goddamned important to you to see someone smile, you know what you should do? Smile at them. They will almost always smile back, 99% of the time. Instead of laying a guilt trip on them by reminding them that there's something wrong with their facial expression, just smile at them. Is that so fucking hard to do? God, we're not allowed to acknowledge that there's anything bad in the world, and we're not even allowed to frown (or smile but not big enough to please people) without someone hounding us to "BE POSITIVE." I'm positive that you're a prick, does that count? Why isn't it positive to acknowledge the darkness in the world and the pain it brings? Why isn't it positive to cry for someone who died? Crying means we're letting our emotions out and being open and honest and vulnerable, why isn't that a good thing? What's wrong with me? How about what's wrong with YOU for not letting me feel my pain and be real?

I miss my friend. I miss him and it wasn't right that he felt like he couldn't be himself, because if people found out who he was, they would hate him, and he thought God had already abandoned him, so he gave up and killed himself. It's not fair. I know that crying isn't going to bring him back. Did I ever say that crying would bring him back? I don't think I fucking did, so back the fuck off. Crying reminds me of how often I have felt like the world hates me. Crying reminds me of how alone I have felt and how alone I still feel and how I am still alive to feel these things. That isn't a positive thing in and of itself, but it sure as hell can lead to some positive things if I let myself cry, because at that moment I am crying, I am one with all those other people crying out in pain and fear and loneliness. I am connected to everyone else in the world who is hurting and asking why, everyone who knows there's a point in asking, so they ask even when it seems like no one is listening. That's more powerful than all the phony smiles in the world could ever hope to be.

So yesterday I was minding my own business watching Vh1 and this song came on, and I sat on the floor of my living room watching the video and wept for the first time in a long time, and it felt good.


The Fray - You Found Me

I found god
On the corner of first and Amistad
Where the west was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I Said where you been, he said ask anything
Where were you?
When everything was falling apart
All my days were spent by the telephone
It never rang
And all I needed was a call
That never came
To the corner of first and Amistad

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me

In the end everyone ends up alone
Losing her, the only one whos ever known
Who I am, who Im not, who I want to be
No way to know how long she will be next to me

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you, where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me

Early morning, City breaks
Ive been calling for years and years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
You never send me no letters
You got some kind of nerve, taking all I want

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Where were you where were you?

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you, where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
why'd you have to wait
to find me, to find me

You know what I did a few Sundays ago? I was all angry (I told you about it a bit here) and I raged home after church and I tore up my bulletin, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. I love to save my bulletins and clip the words out of them and glue them together in my copy of the book "Stumbling Toward Faith" because I like having little pieces of my own journey toward faith there on record (ask my friend [livejournal.com profile] peskipiksi, I have photos and bookmarks of all sorts crammed into that poor book) and I wish I'd saved this bulletin from that week because it had a cool picture of St. Michael surrounded by demons who were tormenting him, and I would like to look at that more, but it didn't matter then, I was so angry I ripped it up and stomped on the pieces and I raged around and bit my hand and stomped into the parking lot of my apartment complex and then I stopped in the middle of the parking lot, looked up at the sky, and I screamed "I hate you God, Do you hear me? I fucking hate you. You're a fucking bastard. I don't care if you hate me anymore, I hate you first! What are you going to do? Strike me down? Of course not. You never do ANYTHING you say you're going to do." Then I went inside and punched my closet door off its hinges because it looked at me funny. I was the perfect picture of mental health that day, let me tell you.


This song gets it. I mean it gets it more than any other song I've heard in a good long while. It's not one of those artificially happy "and then God came and everything turned happy forever Amen Hallelujah" songs. I kind of hate those songs. No, this song is more of a Lamentations song. It's about finding God dicking around and yelling at him "Hey fuckface, where were you when all this shit happened?" People are afraid of that. they're afraid to call God "fuckface." They think he won't like that. He probably doesn't, but he's probably also been called worse. I think he can handle it. Of course I felt really bad (it took about two weeks) but I cried and prayed and apologized for saying all that mean stuff to God. But the point is...I knew to say it in the first place. I knew where to turn. I don't think I've heard a song that is so willing to be angry and ask why and sit and await a reply without feeling the need to manufacture one or apologize for asking in the first place.

I used to do this all the time, sit around and ramble about the bible and some song (or horror movie like Cannibal Holocaust) and talk about how they reminded me of God, and I'd talk about the bible and quote some weird passage from Lamentations (or Zephaniah) and I'd be all Christian and biblical. I haven't done that in a good long while. You know why? It might sound silly, but...I kind of felt like it wasn't my place anymore. Like I wasn't allowed to quote the bible or talk about it, or sing Christian songs or talk about God because I'm living in sin and I don't plan to change. It's not that I don't think change is possible...it's that I KNOW it isn't possible. I've tried for my entire life to change everything about who I was and be someone else, I've spent hours kneeling and praying until my knees turned numb and my eyes had run out of tears, begging God to make me more pleasing to him and the church, and I'm tired and worn out. The pretending is bigger than I am. Honestly, I don't even feel the need to argue with people who tell me I can change who I am and be someone else and be holy and acceptable to God, blah blah blah. That might come later, but for right now...I'm just too tired. It never even really occurred to me how big a part of myself I'd lost until I went to that conference a few weeks ago and saw that play "And He Ran Screaming." I remember being part of the church...it was who I was, inside and out. I knew the bible passages backward and forward, and I LOVED every minute. I loved singing the songs, I loved reading the bible, I saw parallels everywhere I looked and in everything I watched (even Cannibal Holocaust) and even with all the bad things that came with it, all the self-condemnation...there was a lot of good, too.

Awhile ago, someone from DSAGA (the campus GLWTFBBQ group) found all my hundreds of CDs of Christian music and asked what they were, and I said they were my Christian CDs, and she asked if I listen to them anymore, and I told her I don't, and she gave me this look and asked "why?" I didn't know what to say to her then, but I knew why. After we had that conversation, I went back and slowly started listening to those CDs again. I decided to give up on God and church altogether and I got rid of all my bibles, but I couldn't bear to get rid of those CDs. I'd spent so much money on them, but that wasn't even it. My life, my heart, and my faith were tied up in those CDs. I had memories hanging on every word of every one of those songs. Listening to them again back then, and even when I listen to them now, when I sing along, I almost feel like I have to be quiet, so no one will hear me. I know how almost all of those bands and singers feel about homosexuality because they'd talk about it from the stage or in interviews. I feel like so many people would condemn me for singing those songs, saying God loves me but he hates my sin, saying when I sing about God's love it isn't true, God doesn't accept me, I'm doomed to spend eternity in hell because I flaunt my sin, God couldn't even really love someone like me. Sometimes singing those songs feels pointless. Sometimes it feels brave, like after everything that's happened, I can still sing them anyway, because the gospel is for me, too. I don't know. Anything. I wish I did. But I'm still singing anyway. And maybe I'll start reading and writing again, too. It's going to hurt, I know that. It already does. I feel rusty and raw. But I also feel lighter, like tiny pieces are chipping off of the weight I carry on my shoulders. I like that feeling. "And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive at the place where we started and know it for the first time." I butchered that quote. But it feels true anyway, like life might finally be breaking into all this death, like maybe the Kingdom can come on earth as it is in heaven, and I can be a part of it. Maybe.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite songs was "Children go where I send thee." It's a silly song. Peter, Paul, and Mary sang it and my mom played the record when I was a kid, and it was one of the first semi-biblical things I learned as a kid (from the people who sang "Puff the Magic Dragon." You gotta love it). Over the years, it's one of those church things I clung to. We sang it in church sometimes, with the kids, and I remember singing it with my friend Michael. I sang it even when my friends thought I was weird because it's a fun little song (fun to sing when you're drunk, praise the Lord) and even when I felt condemned and hated by the church, this song always brought back memories of things that used to be good. Here, learn it yourself. It's a simple enough little song:

Children go where I send thee: how shall I send thee?

Well, Im gonna send thee one by one
One for the little bitty baby
Who was born, born, born in bethlehem
Said he was born, born, born in bethlehem

Children go where I send thee: how shall I send thee?

Hey, Im gonna send thee two by two
Two for paul and silas
One for the itty bitty baby
Who was born, born, born in bethlehem.
Children go where I send thee: how shall I send thee?

(*repeat, singing verses in descending order*)

Im gonna send thee:
Three by three, three for the hebrew children
Four by four, four for the four that stood at the door
Five by five, five for the five that stayed alive
Six by six, six for the six that never got fixed
Seven by seven, seven for the seven who never got to heavn
Eight by eight, eight for the eight that stood at the gate
Nine by nine, nine for the nine that dressed so fine
Ten by ten, ten for the ten commandments

He was born, born, born in bethlehem.

Singing has always been important to me. I can't really explain why. I've just always connected God with music and singing. It's always meant a lot to me. So this Christmas, I got some Christmas music as a gift, and that included a CD with the song "Love Came Down at Christmas" by Jars of Clay. I didn't feel much like listening to it around Christmas, because, well, Christmas is a time of darkness and evil for me. I don't do anything the way anyone else does. Just go with it. So anyway, like I said, this song was one of the songs I got as a gift, and I didn't listen to it until a month after Christmas, and when I did, I gasped. And cried. And spit my drink out in shock. Just listen to it. You'll get why. This song gets it, too. It's a very simple song, very devoid of doctrine or anything flashy, and it's just about...love. Love will be our token, love will be our sign, love will be the thing that sets us apart, love from God to all men (hear that? ALL of us, even the freaks...especially the freaks). Speaking of Zephaniah, Zephaniah 3:17 says this:

The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing."

It's always seemed that at any given time, God is singing a song over me too, and today he was singing The Fray. And this song, too. Please listen. I love you all.

edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
This started as a reply to [livejournal.com profile] vacheestfachee and then it spiraled out of control so it became its own entry. For those of you wondering about my friend Heidi, no, she's not dead, she's alive for now. She called me back. She says she's not ok, but she's alive, so at least that's good I guess. I always say where there's life there's hope, because I remember how I felt when my friend Michael killed himself last year, but I remember when life was nothing but pain and suffering and degradation and humiliation, and death would have been a relief to me then. the thing I think I'm learning is that as long as there's life, there's a chance at redemption, and with death that chance has passed. It's a little naive of me to say "where there's life there's hope" as though hope is always a good thing. I know that hope has caused me to be crushed more times than I can count, so hope isn't always something I want or need. I still know pain and sorrow and fear and sadness, but the thing is, if I'd ended my life any of those times I've wanted to, I can think of a lot of things that made me smile that I'd have missed if I weren't alive to see them. That keeps me going. I don't think Heidi gets that. I think she thinks I don't understand (and it's true that I haven't lived her life, but if there's anything I understand, it's pain and degradation and fear) and my friend Jenn says I'm not "uplifting" enough, I need to tell her that life is worth living, no wonder Heidi wants to kill herself if she hears me talk like this (Jenn is awesome sometimes and sometimes a brick to the mouth would do her nicely) but this is the truth, and this is all I have to give. It's what keeps me going. If you want a rainbow and a bunny and a flower go to someone else. This is what I've got.

So the poem is here because it makes me think of death, even small deaths like the death of my kitty Crowley, and see them in the context of something bigger than my understanding. Even those things and those people who are dead and gone, they're not lost or perished, because I loved them. I see Michael as lost a lot, because there are so many things I didn't get a chance to tell him; so much he missed out on. there would have been pain in his life, for sure, but there would have been good things too.

Coming on the heels of a day where my church meeting was good and I was more myself than I've been there in...well, ever, and a good GLWTFBBQ meeting where I brought baked goods and everyone liked them, I'm feeling pretty good right now, and not anything, not a shitty night at work or anyone else's thinking less of me because I'm not shitting rainbows and pissing sunshine, will bring me down from that. Because against my wishes and against everything I've learned and against my better judgment, I'm starting to hope again, and its not something I want because it's never EVER brought me anything but pain (and you can fuck off if you don't like that, it's the truth) it's here anyway.

And that makes me think of this:

This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war and hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out and the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour and truth were trampled by scorn--
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.

When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn--
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.

Since I'm on a L'engle kick lately, why not?

So many people talk about Jesus so much (I for one am sick and fucking tired of hearing about Jesus; I could never hear about him again and it would be too soon) that it becomes trite after awhile, blah blah blah, same old same old. The wonder and power are gone because the love; the meaning behind everything, the rope out of the chasm, the "I am" at the end of infinity, is gone, too. It's all a bunch of words that lose their meaning through repetition and people don't care about Jesus as much as they care about the mythology and rules and world they've built around him that's way bigger than he is anymore. They write Jesus out of the story but keep his name in there to try and convince everyone that hes still there. This poem I think gets it. If love weren't a risk, it wouldn't be worth anything, and saying that it's a risk, saying that you don't want to keep going but you do it anyway, that's not WRONG because it's TRUE and it's beautiful. So everyone who doesn't like me when I'm real can fuck the fuck off me, then. And they can fuck the fuck off Heidi too. Maybe give her a break for awhile. She needs it. We both do.


I'm not mad at [livejournal.com profile] vacheestfachee or trying to say that she's one of the people who needs to lay the fuck off me and Heidi. On the contrary, she's one of the best people and best Christians I know and she looks more like Jesus than most of the rest of them put together. I know it sounds that way, but I didn't mean that, I just thought the poem expressed best how I feel and then tried to explain WHY the poem makes me feel the way I do...I was trying to explain how this poem touches me and I can't think about the church without thinking of a thousand arrows piercing my heart, so I was trying to head them off at the pass and respond to some of those arrows that have been slung at me most.
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (Default)
So I went to the "National Coming Out Day" celebration on the Quad yesterday. I didn't sleep and finally decided to go, since I was wasting my time and not sleeping anyway. I was scared to go to be honest with you. I feel like a liar for "coming out" in a group of people who will probably be supportive and not throw rocks at me, and I don't "come out" at work where it would be hard, or to my family, where they'd either freak out or stop talking to me after we've just begun the tenuous process of talking again after ten years. I feel like it would be an empty gesture, and then I think I'm an idiot for being so afraid to do something that comes so easily for other people and I beat myself up again. But I went anyway. It wasnothing like I expected. I chronicled the event in pictures, obsessively snapping pictures hoping to capture some small flicker of the important message I learned there. I hope it touches you like it touched me.

Dial up beware, there are almost 100 pictures here )

I'm so so so glad I went. Even though I didn't get any sleep because I chose to go to this event, it was so worth it. I experienced so much. I don't want to sound maudlin or like I'm overreacting...but that plywood structure felt like a holy place, and I know something of holy places. More so than any church has felt to me in a long time, I felt like God was there today. As much as I try to distance myself from other people and keep myself separate because I'm afraid of being hurt again, I still think my seeking and my reaching is the only thing that keeps me connected to other people because it's real. It's a flicker of hope, the possibility of finding something that keeps me going out and trying to find truth in the midst of all the lies and pain and selfishness and all the bullshit that comes with being around humans. Richard Peck once wrote "We can't have a community until we're ready to be one," and that's so true. A lot of people want to have a community but if they're not ready for everything that entails, all the fighting and struggling that comes with being a human with a free will, than their community will collapse. But I can't keep to myself forever. As much as I feel like there's nothing worthy is me that can be salvaged, I think I do have something worthy, and maybe I'm not as weird and different from other people as I always think. I have so much more hope now than I did yesterday, and it's because I was brave. I always think of myself as a coward because I think about all the things I could be doing, everything people say I should be doing, and don't focus on the courage it takes me to keep doing what I am doing now. As long as I'm not doing nothing, that is something. I need to remember that. Courage isn't the lack of fear, courage is standing in the face of fear, being as scared as a polecat up a river, and doing something anyway (even a small hard difficult thing that only you understand why it's difficult for you at all). I wish you all peace and love and courage and beauty and I hope you take the time to love yourself and give yourselves a break. Come out come out wherever you are, and be who you are, because no matter who you are, you are loved. I love you, and I've never known you any other way.
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
Some people have asked what's been going on with me this week, and asked me to write a post about it, but I couldn't find the words to write about it. I did, however, manage to record 2 bad, shaky videos about it. The second one is still uploading right now, but here's part 1 for everyone who wants to know.

edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
I've been holding this in for a month or better, trying to find the words to say it, and when I found myself wanting to gut some stupid blogger tonight, I realized it was time. I have a lot of anger in me, and generally writing brings this to the surface.

It's 6 pages long and it's angry. If you're going to give me advice or tell me I did something wrong, then please don't read it. Someone said once that I try to control the way people comment in my journal and I can't expect people to only agree with me, but I don't. See, it's my journal, and the promise of a listening ear or a reader out there is what keeps me writing in it. Otherwise I could keep this saved on my computer and never post it. I considered doing that, but having a reader means more simply because it's the promise of another person seeing what I have to say. And I never said everyone has to agree with me, so that's bullshit. All I ask is that you not say "What you should do is..." because that sends me into stabby fits of rage. If you want to say "I did this, and it helped" that's different. How can't you see that? It's MY journal, you have your own journal and I don't always agree with what you say, most likely, but I don't tromp into every opinion you have and say "You should have done this" or "You're wrong, this movie was good, I have scientific proof" so I don't see why it's such a strange request to ask that you do me the same courtesy.

Longer than the Song that Doesn't End )

Also, this. I heard this guy sing at West Michigan Pride 2008 and this song mesmerized me. Not only does he sample one of my favorite 80s power ballads (that always made me cry ANYWAY) but he mixes in his own lyrics that hit me harder every time I hear them:

We are young
Heartache to heartache we stand
no promises, no demands
love is a battlefield

We are strong
No one can tell us we're wrong
Searching our hearts for so long
None of us knowing
Both of us knowing
Love is a battlefield

When you're livin' in a world that's only full of hate
when the only word you've heard is 'discriminate'
you know the love that we're givin' that we're tryin to spread
is wasted on a world that wishes we were dead

We are young
Heartache to heartache we stand
no promises, no demands
love is a battlefield

We are strong
No one can tell us we're wrong
Searching our hearts for so long
None of us knowing
Both of us knowing
Love is a battlefield

No one ever asked me, no one ever dared
no one even tried 'cause no one ever cared
everyone just said that I would not be there
but I am here to tell you that I won't be scared

I'm not what you want
I'm not a child
I'm a man

'Cause love is a battlefield

I will not be afraid
I will NOT fall back
I will stand

Love is a battlefield

We are young
Heartache to heartache we stand
no promises, no demands
'Cause love is a battlefield
We are strong
No one can tell us we're wrong
Searching our hearts for so long
None of us knowing
ALL of us kn owing
Love is a battlefield

If it's not too much trouble, go here and check out the video (and hear my loud ass cheering at the end) and then give him some high ratings...because hell, he's trying to do something good and reach people with his music. We could use some good.



Feb. 15th, 2008 01:47 pm
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (empty wallet)
For the moments I feel faint

This is a disclaimer, because sometimes I rant and rave in my journal and say things that sting. It's what I do. I have to get my feelings out because otherwise they're going to eat me alive. I'm glad so many people care about me and want me to move to a big city or a less crazy rabidly fundamental place as Big Rapids. that means a lot to me. But I'm glad I'm here for so many reasons and I know that it's not time for me to move on yet. Let me explain.

I will move on from here at some point, but right now it's not the right thing for me to do. Right now I have a lease and I do have a ministry here. When it's time for me to move on, I will know, and I have options on a few places I want to go. Once my year lease is up here my lease goes to a month-by-month lease so I can move any time I want with a month's notice.

About the ministry here, I plan to scream and cry and get out what I feel in my journal so you will see my doubt on display here, but no matter what I may say, I'm not contradicting myself when I say "I feel like I don't fit in here" and in the same breath say "I know I belong here right now." I had more than one friend flame me and stomp off in a hail of bullets because I refused to acquiesce to their assertion that getting out of here is what I need to do OMG NOW WTFBBQ. I'm not saying you're going to say that, but just in case, I want to explain myself here. I know that for right now I'm serving as a lifeline for some people who need to know that the churches here are wrong. I'm growing and learning every day, and the broken parts of me that would never let me survive in a bigger city are healing, no matter how it might seem like they're not, and there will come a time when I'm ready to move on from here. I'm saying this now because now I have clarity, tonight or even five minutes from now I might be weeping and wailing and uncertain again. that's the brokenness revealing itself. But I'm slowly and surely becoming more aware of who I am and what that means, and despite times like yesterday when I wail that I don't fit in (because I often feel that I don't) I can see myself and I'm not the same person I was even a year ago, I see improvement. When I feel faint, and there are a lot of those moments in my life, everything comes rushing back to me and I remember why I've always felt unworthy. But I'm not the same person I was then, I'm growing, and it's working slowly but surely so that when I do move on, I will know it's my time. I went 'round about this when my ex kicked me out last year, when I had the opportunity to move but I didn't know where to go. The apartment here opened up and it's been a godsend, and though there were (and still are) people who say it was the wrong decision for me to stay in this area and not move, I now know, after finding this GLWTFBBQ group and finding friends and starting to learn who I am and find myself brave after many years of fear and trembling, I know it was right to stay as much as I know someday there will be a time to move on. I'm in a college town and every year I meet people who will graduate and move on, that serves as a constant reminder of the transience of this life and why I can't stay here. I won't forget that someday I will need to move on, and when that time comes, I will know.

I'm not yelling at anyone here, though usually when I make a post like this at least one of my friends says I'm yelling at him/her and it turns into a flame war and I lose friends. I've just had about 5 people ask me in the space of a few days why I'm still in Big Rapids, and I'm trying to answer that here. I'm just trying to explain why I've stayed here in this small narrow minded place for so long because a lot of people ask me that ad it's a valid question, and people keep telling me it's just my fear of something new and I know it's not that but they won't listen to me when I try to tell them that. At first it was fear of something new that kept me staying in one place, but I've come to see over the years that it's more than that now. It was time for me to meet John, time for me to have my first boyfriend, time for me to get my heart broken, time for me to meet Bailey and have my first relationship with a girl, time for me to figure out what that means, time for me to meet my friends now and slowly figure out my place in this world and how to fit in there. The last time I had this discussion with someone she flew off the handle and said I was contradicting myself and making excuses and blah blah blah, but that's not it. I just am coming to realize that I have a place and right now it's here and when it's time to move on, I'll be ready.


Jan. 18th, 2008 05:08 pm
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
Dud guys, my book is so awesome. I passed the 30,000 word mark today and I'm reading and agreeing with all my brilliant points. I love myself. :-p~~~

I've been crying all day. First, I watched "Celebrity Rehab" on VH1 last night and that fucking show makes me bawl and have flashbacks and panic attacks every goddamn time I watch it. Fuck that shit. But I want to see what happens just because I remember my own experiences, so I put myself through it and stay up all night freaking out. Then I walk to work in the cold and snow and want to die, then I got to work and I'm tired and we're busy right off the bat, so I jump in and get screamed at by Leesa, formerly known as "crazy pregnant lady." Remember when you asked me if she was always like this or it was only mood swings because she's pregnant [livejournal.com profile] blindingrhyme? Well, then I didn't know because I'd only known her when she was pregnant. Now I can safely say she's a fucking cunt and she needs to be knocked off her "I'm queen of the world" pedestal before I break her face. Outside of work, she's ok. Inside she's a Nazi who berates and snaps at everyone for what she perceives as their mistakes, but if she thinks she sees you looking at her crosseyed she screams at you for being so mean and rude. It makes me want to stab things. Namely her face. Everyone was in a pissy, snappy mood today and my migraine hurt and my head hurt (not always the same thing though that may seem strange) plus my feet hurt because they were swollen and bleeding from walking to work in this godforsaken weather and having to be bundled up in socks and shoes all day causes them to swell, crack, and bleed. AGH. Good thing I don't stand on my feet all day at work. Oh wait...

Then I got home and I had a card from my mom. She got my Christmas gift I sent out last Friday. She wants me to write her. This is huge because the last communication I got in the mail from her years ago said she would never understand how I could do what I did to my family and she never wanted to hear from me again but I was always her child and she would always love me. She's large with the guilt-trip, my mom. I saw her for Christmas a few years ago and she looked so old and frail it broke my heart. I took the time to pick out a gift I knew she loved, nutcracker figurines (because she loved collecting them when I was a kid) and I picked out a Christmas card that I knew would touch her heart because it talked about loving memories from the past and how a mother's love was important even if she didn't always hear from me. It was a big deal to hear from her. My brother still hates me, but I do love him, and her, and I do want to try opening lines of communication. I want to shower her with gifts as much as I can on my budget because I want to make her smile. Whatever she did to me as a kid...she did love me, and I know it, and I want to try and make her happy however I can. I don't know if any of that makes sense, but I do love my mom a lot and it means a lot that she wrote me back with no guilt trip, and I just...I'm repeating myself, but I love her and I wan to try and be a family as much as I can.

*takes break to cry for awhile*

So yeah. then i worked on my book and made myself cry again. I need to quit this. what's all this crying bullshit? I used to be cold and uncaring and dead inside; I need to get back to that. It was easier that way.

Ok, so another crying point...remember how I was going to go to chu8rch on Sunday? I still am planning to, but guess who wasn't scheduled to work but is now scheduled to work? Guess! GUESS!!!!! I now HAVE to go to the 8 AM service, no other way I can go, so I have to set my alarm for 6:30, get up, get together and go, sit in church and freak out and die, resurrect myself, dick around for an hour and a half, probably kill myself and resurrect myself again, then walk to work and work an 8 hour shift. YAY OMG IM SO HAPPY CANT U TELL?!?!?

The only redeeming value to all this is now I will have Monday off, a real day off where I don't have to go anywhere or be anything that makes me uncomfortable, and I might have some down time. If any of my friends guilt trip me about not hanging out I will strangle them. seriously, is it that hard to understand my psychosis? Jesus, people.

So yeah...sad day of crying, but YAY BOOK, and OMG NO SCARY CHURCH RUN AWAY looming in the distance. I'm cold. I'm going to go crank my heat and try to find something to eat and resist the urge to splatter my brains across the walls (what brains? Ha ha). I'll catch you all later. Send thoughts of good and prayers and bombs so I don't have to go to church my way if you would. I love you all.
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
So I've been lurking around the "To Write Love on Her Arms" website again. I shouldn't, I know, because it does bad things to me, but whatever I think or doubt about the way Christianity is portrayed, I know this guy can write, and he knows how to tell stories, and he knows how to turn a phrase. I know that doesn't necessarily make him sincere, but it's hard for me to stay away, so I read his posts and his stories. They mainly affect me the way they did when I first read the blog.

The Blog, In Case You Missed It )

This pisses me off for a lot of reasons.

Move Along, Nothing to See Here )

Can I not be torn so much? Is there a way to find healing and wholeness within me and with all these pieces of myself? Sometimes I wonder if there's a way to reconcile...and I want to find a way.


Aug. 23rd, 2007 04:07 pm
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
Someone sent me a link to this website. There, I found a link to their blog. Since it won't let me just copy and paste a link for you guys, here's the text (it's long as fuck, but very poetic, and it reads fast).

Holy shit, Batman, You Write Like a Poet! )


I've been in a bad state ever since I read that. I've been crying my eyes out, and the only thing I could think to say was jumbled and disjointed, so I posted it as a reply in spite of itself:

Where were the people like you? Where do you grow, that I might find you? My Christians called me a selfish, sick whore, one called me a dog and a pig, my campus minister said he didn't want new people coming into the church to see me, my pastor said my shyness was because of pride and if I wanted to be prideful I could leave his church, my Christian treatment center drugged me with Haldol and Lithium and held me down and stripped me while they were reciting Bible verses and telling me they knew I was evil because God said we know people by their fruits (I blacked out after that, I don't remember the rest). I spent eight years of my life devoted, on my knees, wailing and weeping and pleading with God to show Himself to me and speak through me and heal whatever sickness was wrong in me that made me into something so vile and unlovable. I helped build five houses for homeless people in Mexico, I gave my money and my time and in the end all I was to these people was a bottle of pills, a pariah, something shameful that they wanted to hide. The church took my dignity and my spirit and whatever I'd managed to grow after living in abuse and death and pain for sixteen years and they shattered it into a million pieces in the mud.

I'm alive now (barely) and the hatred they covered me with in the name of love is mostly subsiding. I'm never stepping foot inside a church again as long as I live, because whatever God they bow their knees and pray to, I don't want to serve Him. Ever. Where are the people like you? They sure as h*ll don't exist around here. Now I talk with kids and teens and I tell them they can survive abuse and I listen to them when they cry, but I'm afraid for them, I'm terrified they will encounter the world I did when I tried to find God inside the walls of every church I could. And it's still on, I still get emails saying I'm not serving Christ and instead I'm serving Satan by watching horror movies (nothing on film could match the horror I've lived through, believe me). Someone sent me this link and I read your page and it makes me angry, it makes me want to throw glass and break things and scream until I've got no voice left because this love you talk about is the same love I heard preached and yelled and screamed into my face for eight years and it did nothing but cripple me farther. I'm haunted by the demons that were cast INTO my soul in those days, I can't get them out, I can drink myself into a stupor and I vomit up nothing but bile, I can carve my arms raw and bleed out nothing but blood, those demons are here to stay. If I thought for one moment that God's love was bigger than this and that it could make me feel for even a SECOND that I was free in the way you describe, I'd run to Him. But the terror and the shame and the darkness disguised as light keep me away because they're all I've ever known of the Christian God. For all you people talk about love and make it sound real, people like me who want nothing more than to "dance in white dresses" find nothing but condemnation behind the walls of your cathedrals. But then I read this and I'm reminded all over again how much I long for that love and how much I searched for it, for years, with blood sweat and tears. If it's real...I never saw it. And it's all I ever wanted. Ever.

I wish you the best, don't take this as me condemning you in any way, I appreciate your passion and your words, but they stir up the pain and anguish that hides behind the empty shell that was once my heart, and that raises hackles I didn't even know I had. Don't let anybody ever kill that passion, and keep being real. Just...I wish I could believe what you say, I wish it with everything within me that CAN still wish. And I can't see the screen through my tears anymore, so I'll stop now. I'm sorry.


I miss Torrey and Vincent. I love John's kids.


I'm not doing so well.
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (other hot guy)
Today they're doing the most pointless thing ever. They're following fire regulations and installing a ledge under the window in my bedroom to make it easier to step up and climb out in case of a fire. But it's a sheer three story drop outside my window and no ladder is being installed, so fuck if I'm going to climb to death out my window if there's ever a fire. It's beyond pointless. But they want me to move my stuff and I'm not going to do that, I'm just going to go to work and come back and marvel at the stupidity.

Friends Locked )

I'm reading a new book. I borrowed it from my friend Randy. It is interesting and I shall want to discuss it soon, but I'm waiting until I finish it because in case anyone wants to say "God that book is full of shit" I want to have some formulated arguments on why I don't think it's full of shit so I can come up with a better response than "Nuh-uh it's not." Thus far though, even though I don't agree with everything she's saying (I'm in chapter 3) it IS helping me in that it's giving me words to describe something I've been experiencing all my life. And it's not as fluffy as the shiny purple cover would lead you to believe. :-p

If Ashley doesn't put at least $60 in my bank account by Saturday, the bill will be late. She knew this for months this time so she can't say she didn't know, but she chose to use the money for other things, meanwhile I floundered and couldn't pay for toothpaste and shampoo and deodorant. Now she's known for over a week that either she puts the money in, or the phones stand a good chance of being turned off. I'm not paying a late fee, I can't even afford to pay the bill, if there's a late fee because of her I'm not paying it, I had enough paying for that $300 bill back when she sent 350 text messages when we didn't have texting and I had to pay for the fallout. I'm seriously freaking out because I want my phone, but I don't have the money to pay more than my half of the bill, and I'm getting really upset envisioning a life without a phone because of her. This really pisses me off. I can't believe she screwed me like this and is still doing it.

Oh Drama, how I love thee. I don't want to go to work today. I want to sit here and read my book so I can finish it before the drama eats me alive. Oh well.
edgarallenfrog: (pissed off)
Hi. This is a begging post for all of my friends who know what they're talking about when they discuss magic, witchcraft, etc. Everyone who reads my journal knows my problems of late with reading and concentration, but today I was taken with a sudden, irrepressible urge to read about these topics, and I only have one book. I know you've all suggested books to me before here, and I honestly don't remember any of the suggestions (except someone suggested Crowley's "Magick Without Tears" and that's going on Amazon.com for $500 used o.0) so I'd like to ask (implore, beg, plead) for you to suggest these books here again (I promise to properly tag the post, I don't know what the fuck I tagged the other ones as, but I can't find them) and please suggest some books that don't condescend to me like I'm an idiot but that don't assume I know what they're talking about without explanation first...does that make sense? I often don't make sense these days.

I suppose I should be a little more clear here...I'm not dumb. I know none of you have called me dumb, and to be honest, none of my knowledgeable friends have called me dumb, either, but because I'm not trained or well-read in this area, they assume I don't know anything and that I believe in nothing, and that makes me want to stab them. I have KNOWN many things since I was a child, there are things I know that I can't explain or put into words, but recent experiences I've had have led me to believe that there may be words for my experiences, I just haven't found them yet...so I want to read, and I want to learn, but I don't want to waste my time. If you could give me some recommendations and/or advice (I know a lot of you are advising me already, I'm sorry I haven't responded to emails, I'm busy these days trying to keep myself from walking out into traffic...it's been rough and I'm trying to convert the intense pain into some kind of drive or desire to do something, because without that, I will die...) anyway, I promise to return emails and such as soon as possible, and I do have questions about meditation and if there's a way I can get my body to sit still long enough to DO it...yeah, I'm a jumbled mess. But anyway...I respect you all, so I figured I'd make a centralized post asking for advice. I'd post this in one of the Pagan communities I belong to, but I'm terrified that I'll get flamed there and I'm not coherent enough right now to deal with that, but if any of you know anyone who might be able to recommend a book or two or give any advice, feel free to send them along. I'm just trying to work up the motivation to DO SOMETHING here, and this is one of the ways I'm doing it. Thanks, I appreciate any help you can give.

P.S. Look Ma, I'm asking for advice. Usually I threaten people with death if they give me advice, this is rare for me. :-p
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (suicidal)
I want to start by apologizing here. I told all of you that John was with Jessica when he and I were together and that Randy and Allison brought her over because they knew he wasn't happy with me. At the time, I believed this. I was operating under false information that has since proved unreliable, and I thought that person was trustworthy but have since learned that person is batshit crazy, and I think that person just THOUGHT John cheated on me and all that stuff so he/she TOLD me this and manufactured "proof" the way he/she logged into my Myspace profile and gave out my address. I believe Randy and Allison that they didn't do what they were accused of, and I believe John. I was hurt and wanting a reason to hate him, so I latched onto him. I am sorry for passing the info onto you as if it were true, it was wrong of me. If you all want to hate John, I can't stop you, but you don't know him (he doesn't even know himself) and He doesn't deserve to be hated for false accusations...but I just want to let you know that none of the info I was given is trustworthy anymore and...yeah. I believe my friends, and none of us is perfect but I trust them because through lots of yelling and saying things most people would only say behind each other's backs, I have come to believe that they are honest with me. So...yeah. I have needed to clear that up for awhile. I'm sorry for passing on false information here, and I hope you all can forgive me for acting like it was incontorvertable proof.

We have reached "There's no fucking way I can put this into words" territory. So...I'll just give an overview.

Made homemade chips and nacho stuff last night. Phear me and my mighty cooking skillz! And the stuff was delicious but there's no way I was going to be able to eat it all, so I brought it to John's at like, 12:30 Am. Everyone was hanging around drinking and they all liked the food. I got to learn more about John than I ever thought I'd know. And the talking was good. And the yelling was good, and the getting drunk (them, not me) was good. I have come to the realization that I will never understand anything (or that I will, and as in the past, it will cause me great pain because I'm feeling the pain of others). I don't know why I didn't realize that my newfound spiritual paths were going to cause me as much emotional empathetic pain as my Christianity did. I wish there were someone I could talk to about this, but I went over the list of everyone I know this morning, and none of them would understand...they might understand parts. I don't know. I wish Dani was here. :-p But...anyway. Yeah. I'm seeing things I couldn't see before when I was locked into my fundamentalist bubble. And it's a painful little bitch of a growing process (thanks for the WARNING, MArian Green) but it's good. Someday, I'll be really awesome and wise and it'll all be worth it.

So to recap...things are complicated, the pain of the world is deeper than most people could ever realize (expecially since they want to play "my past was worse than your past, my pain is worse than your pain), I love my friends, I feel a lot of pain for my friends, my past is deeper than I ever expected, the things I thought were expressions of demonic energy in my past weren't and I need to explore those experiences...I'm tired. And eating leftover nachos and enjoying the deliciousness. But I wanted to update because I'm nothing without my words. thanks for letting me splooge all over your friend's lists once again. I love you all.
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
I got to watch a fight tonight. At Cranker's, the restaurant near here. They're open 24 hours on Wednesday-Saturday, so I eat there because I don't have a kitchen yet and I don't feel comfortable in this house anmore. Without them, I'd probably go hungry most of the time because it's seriously too much effort to make myself eat these days. So I'm glad Crankers is there. Anyway, the waiter broke up the fight, and he's actually a really good waiter, so I felt bad for him that he got tackled and whacked on the head while the idiots were throwing punches and breaking tables. I'm proud of our waiter. He was a lot nicer than most people would have been in that situation.

I keep telling myself, a few more weeks a few more weeks a few more weeks and I'll have my own place. My own space again. But it won't be the same. I won't be the same person. I've learned so much and grown and changed so much that to find this new person in my skin is a scary thing. I don't know what to do with her. And that's the thing...I know I've grown. I know I've changed. I know I've fought through blood, sweat, and tears to get to this place I'm in now. So it really hurts me when people see the person I am now and don't like or appreciate things I do, not even realizing how hard it is for me sometimes to walk upright and not collapse into a puddle of goo and walk into the river and give up and drown. This week I got into a stupid situation with some friends, I got irritated at stupid little things and I saw myself getting to the point where I was going to snap and say mean ass stupid things, so I got up and walked away. And this was a bad thing. It was labelled storming off, and I know it was confusing and hurtful to them, and my one friend kept commenting that I needed to stay and talk, not get up and walk away.

A few years ago, I was with my friend Elijah and his family eating at a restaurant, and Elijah's dad spilled his tray and all his food and he turned red and started shaking with anger, and then he did a strange thing...he walked away. And they knew he was pissed. Elijah said his dad did that a lot when he was angry, he walked away to keep himself from screaming or hurting anyone with his anger. And because I'm strange, I felt a strange thing at that moment. I felt honored. In my family, in my past, I bore the brunt of abuse and anger and pain because I was a whipping post for my mom and brother and a lot of our other family members. I was screamed at, hit, pushed, threatened, mocked, and I still bear a lot of those scars today. I can see it building in me, too, this anger and rage that I know could propel me to lash out and hurt someone, and sometimes it scares me seeing this anger bubble over. But I made a vow to myself that I would NEVER be like my family, that I would keep myself from lashing out like that, and if I couldn't keep from doing that, I would be like my friend Elijah's dad and I would walk away. So when I get into situations where I'm angry, especially when I'm angry about insignificant little things, I'm proud of myself when I walk away and don't subject others to what I went through, I try to honor them and their space the way Elijah's dad does when he cares enough about his family to walk away, even though they think it's weird.

It was hard to hear that this is frowned upon by others. And I promised that I wouldn't walk away in the future, that I would stay and try to talk things out. But I just don't know if they get it. I don't think people understand how hard it is for me to do some things that come naturally for others. It's hard for me to make eye contact. It's impossible for me to eat if I'm in an awkward situation or I think people don't like me, and sometimes it's so hard for me to be around people that I run to the bathroom and throw up over and over because I don't want them to look at me, I'm terrified of it. I was kept inside for most of my life as a child. My mom imprisoned my brother and I in the house and wouldn't let us leave, and for me it was even worse, because I wasn't allowed to talk without my mom screaming for me to shut up. I was terrified of her and what she would do, so I retreated into myself. I stayed in my room and since I wasn't allowed to go to school, I taught myself to write so I'd have a way to express myself. I didn't know how to act around other people. I didn't know how to talk to people. And it's taken me so long to get to the point I'm at now where I can push myself to interact with other people even though it's scary for me and I can make msyelf talk, make myself interact, make myself try to be like other people, that I'm so proud of myself for doing so well every day. It's just hard to feel like even this much isn't enough for anyone. It hurts. I spent years thinking I was sick and bad and a slut and a freak...since I was four. I didn't know how to be myself or even who I was. I tried everything, even being in an opressive religion for years that I let define me because it fit in with my sense of self-loathing to see what a wicked sinner I was. and now that I'm broken out of that...it's scary. Because I have nothing to fall back on but myself.

I've lost so much recently. I gave my heart and trust to someone, and it was broken. I re-arranged my whole life and now I have to pack up and move and try to make my life work elsewhere. I don't know how to integrate these things. The profound fear that I'll never be good enough eats away at me sometimes. I'm so tired of trying. I'm so hard fo fighting every day to keep my face composed, keep my reactions normal, watch what I say, watch what I do. I just want to give up. I'm so very tired of this. I want to be proud of myself (God knows no one else isn't going to be proud of me) and have my reactions and my emotions that are so fucking abnormal to other people and just grab my familiar things, my knife, my music, my drugs, and give up. Fuck you all, you're right, every horrible thing you want to say and think about me is true. Have a cookie and pat yourself on the back, there's nothing you want to think about me that other people haven't thought already. You want to think I'm just trying to get attention and have a pity party? Fine, go right ahead. The truth is if I didn't have this space to wirte in, I would literally go insane. My brain can't go back to a place where it can't express itself again, so I have to write somewhere, and here it is, for better or worse. And sometimes, I want nothing more than to crawl into my hole and masturbate with my knife and let go and die. I struggle with this, it's insane, and it's not something anyone wants to hear or understand, so most of the time, I just want to give in and give up because at least I understand me.

But I don't do that. I keep going out, I keep going to work. I keep talking to friends even when they don't seem to want to talk to me. Nobody gave me a chance, ever. I want to give everyone a chance if I can. I fight through every day when people are confused and mock or judge or criticize my reactions and I keep going and I keep fighting and I just am who I am. I don't think it'll ever be enough. I don't think there's ever a time or a group of people or a place where I'll completely fit in. But I know that even if they can't (or won't) understand me, there are ways in which they've been misunderstood themselves, and the only way I can combat my past is to fight against it and try to understand others. I went to my counselor again recently. I go to him every few years and bare my soul, and he said the same thing he always says. He said I could meet with him and talk, but that's not what I really need...I really just need someone to talk to and some friends to be around to hang out with me and distract me and talk with me, and while I could meet with him, he says it's not what I really need. I need companionship. No shit, I could have told him that...and he knows that. He's wise. He knows I need people as much as I don't WANT to need people. So I came away knowing what I already went in knowing...that I need to keep fighting.

So yeah, I'm weird. I cry sometimes over stupid little things...but you have no idea how much courage that takes. I was BEATEN when I cried as a child. BEATEN. Crying wasn't allowed, but they couldn't beat it out of me, and the more I tried to stop them ,the tears came anyway. So I cried for years, and then spent years in stony silence refusing to cry. I have a much healthier mix now between these two psycho extremes, but sometimes my reactions seem out of place, strange, overly intense...and I know that. But it's taken me so long to even get this close to normal that I just wish people would cut me some slack. I may seem to talk about sex a lot and I may seem not to value sex, but what you don't see is the constant battle inside between the puritan religious girl who can never be pure, and the four year old who was called a slut, and the five year old who viewed sex as just something she HAD to do. I'm somewhere else now, I'm not in any of those places, but my views and beliefs are borne in my spirit from the seeds of all those different perspectives, and they're strange. but I value sex and I value love and I value friendship above family just because whatever friends I have a re the only real family I've ever had. I don't look down on others for having a different prespective, even when I really disagree with it, because it's who THEY are, not who I am.

I'm just so tired. But more than anything, I'm tired of worrying that I'll lose whatever friends I may have if they see inside me and find this weird, scary, intense, insane person hiding there under the surface. I want to be whole, and I don't know what that looks like. But I get myself through somehow. I'm a survivor and it's what I do, what I've always done, so I'll keep doing it.

In spite of myself.

Taking the Long Way Around )


Feb. 15th, 2007 04:27 pm
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (inspiration)
[livejournal.com profile] peskipiksi and [livejournal.com profile] thecherrywench, can you reccomend me some books about witchcraft and the like that aren't full of shit? They all sound like they're full of shit to me. I'm notoriously hard on books, and I judge them by their covers and decide that they sound ridiculous without even reading them; I've done this my whole life (it's a miracle that I've ever read any nonfiction at all with this attitude). But I'm sure some of them would be helpful or at least informative...Scott Cunningham wrote Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner, and I kind of want to buy it but at the same time I worry that it will be a waste of my time. Blargh.

I bought some presents for certain people on my LJ list and sent them out (something I plan to do more often now that Deep Discount DVD has books on their website and I can send gifts with free shipping...you should all check it out).

Plus John and I went to Grand rapids today so he could take me to Mongolian Barbeque for Valentine's day, and we went to the mall, so I ran into Barnes & Noble (literally, I had to use the bathroom bad but I had to buy books first...you understand, right?) and bought A Ring of Endless Light and The Misfits and then hoofed it over to FYE planning not to buy anything else...and I was really good, too, passing up several movies I wanted to buy...but then I saw a copy of Raising Arizona...yeah. So I have some reading and watching to do. It was a good day. Now he's at work and I'm bursting with energy from the Rip It I just drank (even though I only slept for 3 hours) so I'm bored and I want to find more exciting books to read.
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (what you own)
Probably not.

I bought 4 new movies today...

Dark Fields
Hell's Gate 11:11
HAunted Highway

Of all of them, Zodiac has the best chance of being good. Let's hope so.

Our bathroom is still shitlogged. We don't know what to do. We've plunged numerous times, drain snaked twice, unscrewed and emptied pipes, heated up the pipes with a heater in the basement in hopes of thawing it...nothing works. It won't flush or clear the shit out of the pipes, it smells horrible, and it's disgusting in there. Gah. I don't know what to do next.

I hate Big Rapids. But I got my ATM card working (finally, after trying to clear up this pin number garbage since NOVEMBER) so I'm happy about that, and I got my hair cut and it looks really cute. So it's not all bad, just...shitty. HA. Sigh.

Cut for Teh Dredded Religion Stuff )
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (werk)
soft of eye and light of touch, speak little and listen much )

Our toilet decided to give up the ghost last night. We had a fun-filled day of the shower and sink in the bathroom joining forces with the toilet and spewing nasty water and hairballs and shit all over the bathroom. It smells poopy in there. ew.

I miss having a washer here. I haven't done laundry in weeks because I don't want to carry it 5 blocks to the laundromat in the snowy icy cold. Boo.
edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (music obsession)
Spiritual Journey v. 2.0 )


edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (Default)

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