Something dark and hard but also viscous is rolling around inside me today. It started last night, on my walk. I started feeling dark and panicked and choked with grief and just… small and tender and tense. I keep bumping up against the hard edges of this thing no matter how I try to tiptoe around it. Depression? Anxiety? A combination of both? Could be PMS. Whatever it is, it makes me feel tacky and slightly soiled, completely exhausted, and way, way more pissed off than I am on a regular basis.

I'm angry, deeply angry, that I can't just get up and clean my house like I used to. Sure, it was hard back in the day (and now I know why), but it was doable. Now there are a hudred isolated little messes that I can't bring myself to corral. I'm too busy trying to drag my carcass through the day, make sure I take my meds, make sure I eat something, drink something, try not to vomit, futilely fight to stay awake… I'm weak as a kitten, and with less stamina. I hate being trapped in this body. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's the darkness I've run up against--I'm just finally fed up (again) with being trapped and shackled.

Yes, it happens to even the most cheerful and optimistic of us, "us" being those with otherwise invisible chronic illnesses. I don't have a remission to look forward to, just a further "managing" of symptoms that grow ever stronger and more varied as the months pass. I have to wonder, is this future I'm facing even worth all the effort I'm putting into it?

Perhaps I'm just over-exhausted. It was a busy, active weekend, as far as my energy levels are concerned. We spent hours in stores, looking at various things that we are shopping for, testing different mattresses and computer chairs… So exhausting, but also quite fun, because I was with Corey. But maybe my melancholy is simply a result of over-exerting myself during Corey's days off? That could very well be.

I spent some money yesterday, too, more than I usually do. I bought new components for a medic alert bracelet, a few other things… and I started feeling absolutely terrible and panicked later, sure that I'm a terrible person now because I bought frivolous things and I could have used the money to pay off medical bills… even though I took the thousand dollars I got from my late sister in law's life insurance and spent it exclusively on medical bills, and it seems that's all I spend money on these days… Like I'm no longer qualified to be a responsible adult who is good with money because I veered from absolutely necessary living-only expenses. Isn't that silly? I didn't use money appropriated for something else, and I can definitely make up for it in the next year. I guess I just don't feel like I could or should possibly… whatever. I don't even want to think about it anymore.

Whatever it is, I feel physically shitty (surprise surprise), I feel emotionally shitty, and I miss Bob with a fierce ache that won't be silenced. I contemplate getting up, doing the dishes, tidying the coffee table, even making an apple pie… and then I simply roll over and ignore my misguided ambitions. Perhaps later I'll dose up good with my meds, turn some energetic music on as loud as I can stand, and do the dishes and make that pie. Maybe a multi-berry apple pie? I dunno. I've been craving soda lately, too, mostly Coke. Gotta figure out how to get some of that here to the house, since I can't drive and I've got no vehicle… I wonder if I could simply order a 2 liter from a pizza place and get them to deliver just that to me? Hmmm… I'll have to make sure to hydrate alongside drinking soda, of course.

I'm sure my foul and exhausted mood will pass. I've got some exciting news that I'll write about then.

Note: I went and took a look at my "Quotes to keep me goin'" section, and it helped a remarkable lot. There's a reason I keep that page around… lol

…now you don't.

I feel like I'm losing my mind. There's no other way to describe it as accurately and succinctly.

April was a hard month. Lots of pain that just wouldn't be budged, increased sleep walking, further weakness and increased discouragement and depression… and all that after getting my wisdom teeth out the month before. I cannot pinpoint a specific time that things turned for the worse, but that's always the case isn't it?

Nothing, though, nothing could have prepared me for the experience of this past week. I have trouble when I'm particularly weary with full body muscle spasms that jerk me around like I'm having a seizure, and I also have a tendency to fall into a half-sleep that's deep enough to dream a little but not awake enough to know that the situations are fictitious. I end up with these conversations I've had with other people, but they turn out to be one-sided. It's quite embarrassing, actually.

This week, I've had a lot of fantasy conversations, but more than that… I've begun hallucinating again. Auditory hallucinations are commonplace for me, and have been my whole life. I tend to hear music playing that no one else can hear but me, wherever I'm at. Visual hallucinations started as a child as well, because I remember distinctly having to take naps in my step-grandparent's spare bedroom on Sabbath afternoons, but I hated nap time so much because I was at least 6 or 7 and I wanted to be up and reading or something! The walls were covered with portraits of family members throughout the years, as bunches or singles. As I lay there in the afternoon half-light that filtered through the drawn curtains, I had nothing to do but stare at the photos and watch as they talked to one another. Their lips would move, heads turning, facial expressions would change; full blown conversations were going on, but I didn't know to read lips so I couldn't follow along. There was no way I could tell anyone about that, ever, because I knew that it would sound super crazy and the line of success/dysfunction that my family crept along was tenuous, at best. I didn't want to be made fun of or told that I was crazy, so I kept it to myself. I finally told my psychiatrist this past year, though.

And now we come to my current dysfunctions, the ones that are giving me so much trouble and leaving me questioning my own senses. In truth, the problems are much the same, but now they're the adult version, having apparently grown up alongside me.

One of the big problems with my diseases is the fatigue. Sometimes I deal with insomnia, but more often than not I sleep more than the average person is supposed to need to. When my mind is fuzzy with fatigue it is much easier to space out, but when I come to I remember snippets and snatches of conversations… or thought sequences… or were they dreams? Yeah. Dreams. That's gotta be it. And so it goes.

What will happen is that if a friend says something, I will formulate a response in my head, and then they'll answer, and I build the experience on the back and forth that comes next. Only… lately, I've been actually hearing what before used to be just thoughts in my head. And when that conversation is playing in my head (the one that stopped being relevant about 20 seconds prior) I join in with my retorts and comments, of course! To the other person, it seems as though I'm just spouting gibberish and nonsense, which, to be fair, is the truth when you can't hear the other side of the conversation. For instance: Drogo was playing a computer game he purchased through Steam called Elite: Dangerous. It's about space, but it's really well done and I love watching him play it. Yesterday, however, while I was watching him attack another ship in the particular solar system he was occupying, I noticed that there was some kind of theme music that seemed to "caption" each shot he laid on the other ship with a funny taunt laid out to a simple tune. (I don't remember any of this, just a few moments here and there.) I laughed at the awesome lyrics and said something about how I loved the captions to his shots, and he looked at me very strangely. I was like, "There is a song playing right now that emphasizes the shots your getting off… right?" Well, no. No there wasn't. And throughout this past week I have been hearing more and more things that aren't there.

I'll hear Corey say something and without really processing it my brain will formulate a response that just tumbles on out… and makes, like, zero sense. It's a lot like playing "Telephone", except that the other person has no idea that they're playing or indeed what they said in the first place! Often I'll jerk myself awake out of a doze because my body is trying to physically imitate what my shallow dream has me doing, like eating ice cream maybe, or handing a stack of paper to someone, petting the cat, whatever. The physical action has loud noises or words that accompany it, and the combo of those will jerk me awake so that I can try to play it off as myself coughing or rolling over or something hide, but a split second later and I'll be off chasing the White Rabbit again. Even if I'm awake, I can find myself grabbing for whatever is bothering me without realizing I've even done it yet, or suddenly breathing hard and blinking rapidly to jerk myself out of doze mode and back to the present.

The visual hallucinations, well, it's that moving picture thing again for certain. There are no portraits on the walls of my home, but there are plenty of other things to distract my eye. Generally, it is the movement of stationary things, like shadows scooting across the floor or at the outsides of my vision, sometimes right in front of me; spots of dirt or some-such, even the natural patterns in the walls or tile take on movement and writhe like small insects. There doesn't even have to be a pattern to it when all of a sudden a dark blot of movement streaks by your thigh, and  by the time you look over it's already long gone. Or how about seeing the blankets themselves move of their own volition right at the back corner of your vision, only to find them stationary when you whirl to look. Let me tell you, it is freaky when all of a sudden you think you're surrounded by bugs! Ticks and ants and other creepy crawly things! Aaaaugh! I'm always relieved to see the truth of that one. Another common one is thinking that I see one of the cats walk past and then be obscured by the table, but when I go to look at that corner there, it's empty. No cat there. Gahhh. Y'know, maybe I'm not crazy. Maybe my cats are just ninjas!!! Occam's Razor. Yep. That's got to be the answer, then. :P

Yesterday was bad. Like, bad bad. I was very actively hallucinating, more than I ever have before, visually, audibly, and with sensation on my skin as well. That one is common, but it never ceases to be startling when you suddenly feel drops of scalding water or ice water flick against your skin for no reason, or when you are positive that there is a bug crawling on your arm/leg/toe/face/etc. I am definitely going to be bringing this up to my psychiatrist tomorrow, but there are some other physical symptoms that I feel are connected somehow and are giving me just as much trouble as the hallucinations but are more alarming. My eyes… for some reason, they'll just stop focusing, and everything gets blurry, especially anything from the end of arm's length toward me. Can't read, can't write, can't tell which pill bottle is which sometimes… It's terrifying. Each time I wonder if that will be the time it lasts, that my vision won't revert. I don't know what to make of it at all. Frequently I will be struck with what I have dubbed "eye seizures", which is where my eyes won't focus right, but they're still mostly in focus. My vision simply shakes from side to side and prevents me from latching on to a more distant focal point. Eye seizures are for further distance, and the unfocusable eyes are impossible for

The next problem I'm having is that my legs will just collapse beneath me. As I mentioned before, I do sleepwalk, more and more intensely these days, and it has been while sleepwalking that I've noticed the most collapsing. More so this past week, however, Friday being the worst of it, I have a split second's warning that my legs are about to give way when I feel this pulsing throb of weakness that shoots through my entire being. As the spasm of weakness passes, my legs buckle after the apex and I must clutch something, anything to keep me upright. Even then it's not pleasant, for my heart is pounding, I feel weak and exhausted in every inch of me, and my chest is tight while my heart hammers away. Sometimes there's chest pain, sometimes no, but always it feels like a dark balloon expanding within my chest, and once it pops a thick, sludgy wave washes through me and pulls me to the floor. Dizziness explodes behind my eyes and the room swims around me in crooked, clumsy laps.

Even as I type, I am struggling with some of these things. The dizziness, the throb of weakness and pounding heart, the rapid drift back into dozing only to be woken up again and again. I snap awake, limbs shaking and heart pounding, eyes blinking rapidly and looking around for context clues as to where I am.  My lungs pull in the sharp, short breaths of one who has forgotten to breathe just a bit too long. My head jerks around, the ratchet movement keeping me awake for the moment, my outstretched hands moving likewise, rapid but aimless, as I find myself trying to grasp for a literal lifeline. The searing moment of clarity is driven into my skull like a railroad spike, but I know that all too soon I will be adrift upon the shallow, troubled waters of this unsatisfactory sleep.

Also, as a side note, I just want to mention that my mouth is all kinds of ulcerated and painful on the inside; sores on my tongue, roof of the mouth, cheeks; abrasions and tender and inflamed areas that leave me clenching my jaw in pain when anything other than water passes through my lips. My glands have been swollen for a week or more. I cannot feel much in the skin from my cheekbones down to my collarbones. It is cold, and it is numbed, though I know not how. My memory is absolutely shot. I lose track of sentences while I am speaking, fumbling to a stop because I'm not sure how I wanted to end it, much less what the idea I was trying to convey was. I finally got my first menstrual cycle since December, which had me freaking out and hoping I wasn't pregnant and that the tests I took weren't faulty. I think I really scared Corey yesterday with my inability to remain standing and the severity of my hallucinations. Sometimes I can play it off like I'm talking to the cats, but usually not so much.

Oh! I broke my phone last night. See, the twitches aren't just about my legs jerking around as if they'd been hit with the rubber reflex mallet. That's part of it, but another, much bigger problem is that I will be holding something normally, say a mug of tea or a bowl of cereal, but suddenly my entire arm with jerk wildly and I now have hot tea all down my front, or a puddle of cereal and milk in my lap. It sounds funny to read, I know, but in actual practice? It sucks. Do you have any idea how many times I had to start the washer recently?! Too many. Anyway, yesterday I picked up my phone from the couch, and bam! Arm and hand jerked, my (admittedly ghetto) phone flew to the tile flooring in a very direct manner, and it broke in half, exposing the guts. Later that night I figured it out (still not sure how, really), and while I'll need another phone, I still have this one… even if it is being held together with black electrician's tape ;)

So that, my friends, is what is going on with me right now. I don't know where the boundaries of reality and fantasy intersect anymore, and I genuinely feel like I might be losing my hold on reality. Seriously… how scary is that?! All I know is that I keep resurfacing, gasping for breath and shaking my head rapidly to clear it. It works for a few microts, but it's scary as hell because down, down, down I go as soon as I'm not actively forcing myself awake. Even so, there are times that doesn't work either. How can I trust anything anymore when I can no longer rely on my 5 senses to guide me? Funny how the brain is so powerful, but not powerful enough that it can escape when turned upon itself, eh?

So what happened, you ask, to provoke such a sadly bewildered post followed by several days of silence? I'll just copy and paste sections from emails with good friends explaining the situation, rather than type it all up again.

"I just had some drama with being let down by a person who promised to do a certain thing... my "adopted" (sorta related by marriage) uncle offered to send me money every month for these two medicines to help with my fibro and said he would be my med provider for life, but today I got an email saying that he got back together with a long distance girlfriend so he will be using his money for that instead. He was all up in arms because he had contacted me saying "hey, my girlfriend called and we got back together, so I want to split the money between you guys alternating months". I told him that the meds are a consistent thing, and it's gotta be all or nothing. I even floated the idea of his girlfriend coming to visit him.. you know, since he had already promised to help me. But then he responded with affrontery, saying that he was uncomfortable or hurt or something because it felt like I was making him choose between her or me. Um, hello?! You put me in that position!! So now he's written me off, choosing the girlfriend.

I just feel... abandoned. Disappointed. Like some hope for getting better has been taken away after I dared to get my hopes up... You know we can't afford the meds on our own. There are no generics for either of them, and the copay is high. So that's what's going on. It just brings up a bunch of stuff with trust and abandonment issues, you know? Especially because he literally said, "I choose D. See you later." Ouch.

He had said all of this "I love you so much, you're my favorite niece, you light up my life, I'm so happy to be helping you out", etc. And now I don't know if I can believe any of it... because the moment that things got uncomfortable him (by his own fault, he shouldn't have promised if he couldn't make good on it... or if he was just going to take it back) he dropped me like a hot potato. Where's the love now?

I guess what makes me the angriest is that I never asked for this. He offered, from the beginning. He pushed the issue. I accepted his help a little uncomfortably, because it's hard for me to accept help.. and I even told him this. I was very honest about my guilt with receiving help from people, especially when money is involved. And now my past has been validated. Again. Accepting help from people just gets you screwed over and hurt. (I know, intellectually and from the work I've done and the books I've read that it's not true but... it has been proven so true in my life, it's hard not to believe it.)

So yeah. I trusted an older male, not exactly a father figure, and I was hurt and abandoned. Again. And I accepted help, against all my inner precautions against it... and I was dropped and left behind. I don't think that any of this was through any fault of my own, but then it never is, is it?

Bleh."

J responded with, "Ugh this makes me so angry too..

I'm sorry. No, you didn't deserve this. At all. I don't know him at all or any circumstances, but he sounds like a jerk. At any rate, he sure treated you harshly and thoughtlessly. Perhaps he somehow really doesn't understand what a big deal his offer was? I dunno. I don't want to defend him. (Well, I kinda do because it's so hard to imagine someone being so unkind to you!) 

He had no business to make an offer like that and then take it back for such a DUMB reason! Seriously. Dumb. What kind of girlfriend is this, anyways, that he has to send her money?!?"

"He's not sending her money, he's going to visit her because it's a long-distance relationship. I suggested that maybe she could come to visit him, and that's when I got the "break up" email LOL.

I dunno if he's a jerk, per se... he has cerebral palsy, so I don't think his social skills are exactly up to par. But he had been going on several times about how happy he was to be helping me, and about how he had been wanting to help someone for a while but no one would let him or he couldn't find someone or something, but now he could help me and he was so happy about it. And now... this.

C said that he didn't think he was too stable to begin with. I guess not. He's kinda gone back and forth on the thing a little the past few weeks before this. I just didn't really see it, because I was a lot closer to the situation... and so hopeful.

I don't think he did understand what a big deal his offer was... though I was very honest with him about how hard it was for me accept help. He shoulda got it.

Thanks for standing up for me :) It makes me feel good to know you've got my back. I posted a facebook status in the midst of my anger and hurt yesterday that said "I'm broken. I'm done, and I don't care anymore.", and I got three private messages and a bunch of affirming, sympathetic, and supportive comments. One of my friends, after learning what happened, offered to send me some money to help with the med costs. I thanked her but turned her down, because it's a monthly thing you know. But I do feel super affirmed and supported."

After responding to the "break up" email, he responded with an apologetic letter and later pled for me to give him another chance to try to make this work. I turned him down, because now I see that I can't rely on him to be stable or consistent. As J pointed out in another correspondence, I shouldn't doubt his sincerity, just his ability to follow through on this. So we're still "friends", or uncle and niece, or whatever, but... it has still taken a toll on me, even though it got straightened out.

I've mentally worked through this, but my emotions have been kinda haywire since, and I've been very restless and almost jittery. The past two days I overdid it by far with cleaning and organizing, but it was like I had/have this pathological need to just stay busy and keep doing, doing, doing. It's not the Should Monster, as M made that distinction, but it's more of a driving need to just... I dunno. Not be helpless? To do something? To be in control of a measure of my life again? Regardless, I felt the effects of overdoing it today with a very low level of spoons and some other unpleasant symptoms that cropped up after I accidentally used up all of my energy this morning. 

On the bright side, I did my makeup today (eye shadow, liner, mascara, lipstick, the whole nine yards!) and I looked hot, especially now that I'm a redhead :) (Doing the makeup is part of what took up so much energy, especially because I also showered, and I had to stand for both of these activities.) While I was in the parking lot of the library today, a stranger doubled back to talk to me, and told me that he hoped I didn't think him presumptuous but that I was beautiful. (He also said he had a thing for redheads lol) It really made me smile, especially because I was on the cusp of throwing up, so I didn't feel all that beautiful at the moment! So I smiled at him and wished him a great day. It was nice. Very nice. Especially because I've been a bit insecure about my appearance lately, having put on weight. It's hard when you go from being quite skinny to chunkier, because you've got that image of what you looked like before that you're comparing yourself to. It's hard for me to see past that and look at myself objectively to realize that I am, indeed, attractive... even with a thicker waist. On the bright side, my bosom has also increased, and C is a boob man, so that works out well.

C assures me that I'm still sexually attractive, and I'm glad for that. It's about time for me to hit the hay, so maybe I'll go see if I can get him to prove it...

It's an interesting phenomenon, chronic illness... and the chronic pain that comes with it.

It's like everything in your life is rearranged and slightly skewed from normal... like living in your very own Twilight Zone. Everything seems familiar, but there's just something "off" that sends a little shiver of fear down your spine, and you can't quite put your finger on it...

I'm finding that chronic illness has tweaked a lot of my definitions, and it weirds me out.

For instance, my definition of "sick"...

Yesterday, I ended up in excruciating pain come evening. The kind of pain that has you gasping yet trying not to breathe and contemplating whether you can physically make the trip to the hospital. And crying. Definitely crying. No exaggeration. (Oh, how I miss living right across from the hospital in some regards!)

Also, before all of that "I'm in horrific pain", there was the unrelenting exhaustion that made it difficult to put one foot in front of the other, yet your body is feeling juuuuust crappy and painful enough to keep you from sleep. Don't forget that the longer you're awake and moving, though, the more pain you'll be in, as a general rule. (A strong painkiller obtained from undisclosed origins did the trick for that one.)

So today I wasn't as exhausted or in as much pain as yesterday, therefore by comparison I'm okay today. I'm not "sick", and I have no legitimate excuse to lie around and rest, because I'm doing better, and rest from what?? It's not like I did anything. But I am still occupying that grey wasteland between "I feel terrible please kill me and put me out of my misery" and "I feel well enough to be up and about".

However, I got super sick during acupuncture and went home early. Halfway through the session I got very nauseous, dizzy, and began having abdominal cramps and chest and back pains. I made if off of the table and out to the lobby, but I couldn't drive myself home so I called C. While he was on his way, I almost had a panic attack because of how terrible I was feeling. C picked me up, took me home, and cooked me broccoli. I took a nap. My pain levels have increased to just shy of "I can't handle this", because I've been laying down. If I get up and move around, they'll shoot up to unmanageable levels. I found that out when I went to the bathroom.

It's interesting how my definition of "sick" and "pain" have changed... and seem to shift on a daily basis. Some days, pain is a thing that I can put on my game face and deal with. I'm a warrior! Ooh-rah! (Pounding of chest) I'm such a badass and an inspiration! Other days, pain is just not something I can handle, nails on a chalkboard, and I shamefully gulp down the pain killers to hide my weakness. I don't feel that I have a right to consider myself sick, since this is my new normal. I'm only sick if it's beyond what I deal with on a regular basis. If I feel terrible, but it's a normal terrible, well then... I should (aha! there's the rub!) be able to just suck it up and deal, right?

Yet I can't help but think that if my condition were to be transferred to someone else, it would reduce them to a whimpering puddle of sadness and narcotics. And then I don't feel so bad about myself.

I guess I just want to know that I'm doing okay, that I'm not a bad person or a druggie for taking painkillers to get any relief from the unrelenting pain (because it's literally there 24/7), and that I'm actually sick. Yes, to my shame, I would like validation that I'm as sick as I secretly think that I am. I like to pretend that I'm okay and can handle life, because that's what people like to see and hear-- that's what they need to see and hear, because the reality of illness and pain that doesn't go away is very, very uncomfortable for most people to acknowledge. There has to be a cure! And if I've resigned myself to simply surviving in this ravaged carapace (for example, by taking pain killers to cope), then I've given up and I'm a bad patient. I've failed at being sick. (Can you even do that???) I'm no inspiration; there will be no movies made about my life. The American dream of being a legend, an urban hero, will not be realized in my life... because I've given up. I've turned my attention from banishment of symptoms to management of sanity.

In a culture accustomed to relegating disease and pain to the "acute" category and expecting quick recoveries,  long term pain is a confusing place to live. If you can't fix it, then... well... obviously you're not trying hard enough!

And those are just a few of the messages that I'm bombarded with so frequently, internally and externally.

The Twilight Zone, I tell you. It almost makes sense, but not quite.

No, actually, it doesn't. It doesn't at all.

If I were still shoulding myself, I would say that because I just got married, I should be deliriously happy, right? That my blog should be bursting with pictures and stories and fun little things, because life rocks right now, right?

Okay, truth be told, I am very happy, and life does rock right now!

I kinda want to wait until the pictures come back before I start processing the wedding and telling stories. It's all too new and personal right now for me to reel it out, strand by strand, and lay it down here. I know this is my personal blog, but still... some things are too precious, even for this place. (Also, I'm a space cadet right now. Hehe.)

But right now, I find myself in a strange place. I'm a newlywed, a blushing bride-no-longer... and while it feels a little different, it's really not that different from before, except that I feel out of place on the wedding websites that I have come to frequent. I feel like that mom that tries to be cool with her teenage daughter's friends, but in reality is just awkwardly lurking. I'll probably get over that as I find new little niches on the web to hang out.

What I'm really here for today, though, is to spill my fears. Because really, I'm afraid... so very afraid. And sad. And not really sure what else...

...because I'm really sick. Again. As usual. The week before the wedding was the joy of another prolonged flare (sometimes it's just one day, sometimes it's a couple days, and sometimes it's a week... or more). I'm so glad that H was there to coordinate the wedding stuff for me, because by the time it rolled around, I just didn't care anymore. I didn't have it in me to care. My brain was not functioning well, and I kept getting asked to make all these last minute decisions (because, of course, things go wrong and then you have to roll with alternate plans), and I just really couldn't. And the day of? Don't even go there. I was as good as useless. Also, I was kinda cranky, because I hurt so much. If it hadn't been my wedding day, it would have been a "crawl into bed and never come back out" day. I just wanted to lay down and cry multiple times. But it was my wedding day, so I pushed forward... and it was great. I had a lot of fun, once the stuff actually got started. I've been paying for that day of fun, though.

The flare continued, and yesterday it was so so so bad. I got broadsided by a bad case of fibro flu... the kind of broadsided where all you can do is lay somewhere that is usually comfortable and twitch, groan, and pray for the end.

That brings me to why I'm here. Because I'm really sick. Again. As usual.

I hear other people with fibro talk about "good days" and "bad days". Yesterday was definitely a bad day. But even my "good days", well... they're bad. And that both pisses me off and frustrates me. I have had one day since early January where I have been able to function without taking a single prescription pain killer all day. One. And I can count on one hand the number of days since early January that I have been able to function with less than three prescription pain killers in a day.

Is it bad that I just really don't wanna do this anymore?

Because here I am, staring down my future, and wondering what the hell am I going to do? In four months, I'm supposed to start the intense massage therapy training program. I'm having a difficult time with the three classes I'm in now (and one of them is online!), and I expect to be able to pull that off?

I am in a treatment program that's supposed to give some pretty good results by July, but can I really pin my hopes on that? I just keep getting worse and worse, and so quickly... it scares me, y'all. I am frightened by the decline in my health.

It doesn't help when well meaning friends question me as to why I'm so sick, or how I declined so rapidly, or whatever. I don't know! If I knew, then maybe I could do something about it! As it is, it's like I've been thrown into a pool of icy water with my arms tied behind my back. I'm thrashing about, looking for purchase, but all the while I become weaker and weaker, sinking further and further...

Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't have a lot of good in my life. C is amazing, and fully prepared to financially support us both in the event that I cannot contribute anything to the household income. In fact, he's planning it that way, and if I can help out then it's a pleasant surprise. I have a lot of good things in my life, but I am frightened, and I am tired, and I am hurting, and I just need to cry out once in a while.

I have a friend, C, who is an amazing lady. She is the one who cleaned my house for me before the wedding, and I asked if she would be willing to do so on a regular basis if I compensate her in some way. She waved aside the compensation and is going to be doing it out of the goodness of her heart. What a doll.

That, though, is a mixed blessing... for while it shows the awesome and wonderful people that are around me, supporting me and helping me cope with life in chronic pain... it also shows how far I've fallen. I can't even clean my own house anymore! And it seems so silly that something so small can send me into tears (I'm crying right now, actually), but it's just like... everything that used to be normal and familiar is gone. I don't know what to do with myself. I used to be so independent. I hate having to rely on others for so much, and I just feel so terribly useless.

The girl who hates to impose on others... is now brought to the point of needing help to clean her own apartment. It just makes me so sad... and so mad... because it's not like I asked for this. I didn't do anything. It just happened to me, and now I have to cope with this. It's like a giant cosmic prank, except there's no punchline or restitution... just the awful reality of a helpless, crippled life.

And this is what I'm staring down as I look four months into the future at this massage therapy program. If I am not capable of mopping my own floor without bringing paroxysms of pain and crippling fatigue upon myself for an undetermined period of time, how can I possibly hope to make it through this stressful, intense program? I know what stress does to me, and I know what physical overexertion does to my body...

...so maybe it's time to let that dream go?

It's hard for me to even consider that. I feel like a failure, a quitter, a flake, even contemplating it. After all this time, after all the noise I've made about becoming a massage therapist... how can I walk away from it? How many times am I going to have to quit something because of my poor health? This wouldn't be the first time. Am I just not trying hard enough? Am I not tough enough? Or will my life be a series of false starts and half finished projects? That's what it feels like when I walk away from something I've decided to do.

But maybe my path really does lie somewhere else. Maybe that dream's purpose was to bring me here, where I would meet C and work with the HJ and all the other stuff I've done. Maybe the purpose of the dream was not to be fulfilled, but to lead. Or maybe it's a "not yet" scenario. It will happen... but not yet.

So I'm starting to consider what else I can do with myself this fall besides school, besides the massage therapy program. Maybe that store I dream about. Maybe the HJ full time. Maybe something else entirely. I really don't know right now.

I would love to end this on a note of hope, because I do feel optimistic... I know that it will all work out, one way or another... but I also don't want to force cheerfulness. I am sad. I am confused. I am frightened. And that's okay. Because I'm also not giving up. I'll hang in there... one breath at a time. That's all I can do right now.

Yesterday was a seriously confusing set of emotions for me. Very complex, very intertwined, and very pervasive. It left me feeling both invested in and totally invalidated, which is a strange and repulsive mixture. I don't recommend that you try it anytime soon.

Remember how I was all excited that BJ and I were doing lunch and shopping? Well, we did. We also had a lot of time to talk while doing those things, and it was during lunch (our first activity) that things started going downhill for me.

I have come to the conclusion that BJ is not actually a safe person.

This is hard for me to come to grips with, because I have always assumed that she was. Indeed, for a long time she has seemed to be, especially given the largely dysfunctional and toxic people that I was surrounded with. She has been a safe person for me for so long that to have that status shifted is, well... very unsettling. It's almost like an identity crisis of sorts.

I suppose I should clarify what I mean by "safe person", just to be on the safe side. (Heh.) A safe person is someone whom we can have a safe relationship with, versus someone who is toxic and unsafe. According to authors/Drs. Cloud and Townsend, this is how you can identify a safe person:

"So, what are safe relationships? A safe relationship is one that does three things:

1. Draws us closer to God. (Matthew 22:37-38)
2. Draws us closer to others. (Matthew 22:39)
3. Helps us become the real person God created us to be. (Ephesians 2:10)

When John (Townsend) and I asked people to describe a “safe person” to us, they gave us these descriptions:

• A person who accepts me just like I am.
• A person who loves me no matter how I am being or what I do.
• A person whose influence develops my ability to love and be responsible.
• Someone who creates love and good works within me.
• Someone who gives me an opportunity to grow.
• Someone who increases love within me.
• Someone I can be myself around.
• Someone who allows me to be on the outside what I am on the inside.
• Someone who helps me to deny myself for others and God.
• Someone who allows me to become the “me” that God intended.
• Someone who helps me become the “me” God sees in me.
• Someone whose life touches mine and leaves me better for it.
• Someone who touches my life and draws me closer to who God created me to be.
• Someone who helps me be like Christ.
• Someone who helps me love others more."

Okay, clearly these guys are Christians, and maybe I'm not looking for someone to blatantly Bible me into being a better person, but you get the idea.

You see, BJ's house was always a haven of refuge for me from my crazy home life. Even when I was "drifting into the world" as a teenager, I always felt unconditionally loved and accepted by her and her family. When I went away to SOULS, she expressed some concerns that I wasn't learning the whys and wherefores of things, but that I was conforming to peer pressure, and she was somewhat right. (She reminded me of this during our talk.)

In recent years (or year), however, it feels like... I dunno. It feels like I'm responsible for her emotional happiness and stability in some ways, though the cues are so subtle that I'd be hard pressed to put it into words. Honestly, I'm hard pressed to put any of this into words! I know, I know, me without words. Hard to believe, right? *sigh*

There are two driving issues here: one is my health, and the other is my spirituality/life choices.

BJ is a nurse, and somehow it feels like we always end up talking about my sicknesses, especially now that fibromyalgia has reared its ugly head. She can't seem to wrap her mind around why I'm so sick, and I keep getting those cliche phrases that I hate so much, such as "You're too young to be sick like this!" Today she mentioned multiple times that she doesn't understand why I got so ill so suddenly, why my health suddenly took such a nose dive. Heck, I don't understand it, either! It just happened. But I always, always get this creeping feeling like somehow it's my fault... like I did something or am not doing something right... but yesterday, she was so bold as to say that she thinks I got fibromyalgia because I left God. Wow. Really? Really? That's harsh, man.

The thing is, when I feel even subtly attacked, I find myself falling over myself to explain myself more and open up further depths of my soul to her, as if sharing more truth will somehow help her to understand and accept and stop blaming me and bringing out the guilt. (I wonder if her kids go through this, too?) It doesn't. It just complicates things further.

We were talking about my future as a massage therapist, and how C takes care of me so well, and I mentioned that there is a possibility that I may end up bedridden from fibromyalgia, as I know people in that boat. She immediately and vehemently protested this, insisting that I shouldn't focus on that, that I shouldn't even be considering or contemplating it. No matter how much I explained myself or insisted that I'm not choosing this outcome, but that it is indeed a reality that I must face and accept, she maintained her position that even acknowledging it is the same as choosing it, and I shouldn't even allow myself to think about that, and that I'm going to get better and that I'm underestimating what God can do... (as if he would heal me anyway, 'cause it's not like I haven't asked him a billion times before, back when we were on good terms, but I digress...) Basically, she completely dismissed my illness and insisted that I'm going to get over it. At least, that was my interpretation of the situation. As there are two sides to every story, I fully admit that I could have been completely misreading her.

I explained it like this-- if you have cancer, you have to face the fact that a possible outcome is death. That doesn't mean you're choosing it, or even that it's highly likely, but it's still a part of reality. She came back with a fiery and intense rebuttal of, "Only if you have terminal cancer is that the case. Any other kind of cancer, you have other options."

Look, it's not like I want to be this damn sick all the time. I miss hiking, and I miss cleaning my house. I miss doing more than two or three "things" in a day. (I struggled with fatigue already, but that was small potatoes compared to my life these days.) But I really, really resist the attempts to whitewash my reality and my future and exclude reality from my plans and my thoughts. She told me that I was spending too much time researching fibro online, basically saying that I was focusing on the negative aspects of my illness too much. Um, no. I get down in the mouth from time to time, but I'd like to think that I'm actually rather optimistic about being in severe pain every waking moment. I just felt so... dismissed. Invalidated. Disrespected, I guess. Like she was saying, "No, your interpretation of reality isn't correct. It's too pessimistic. Here, let me replace it with my own. This is the right one. Now, don't go back to your way of thinking! It'll only hurt you." I felt as though she was implying that, if I get sicker (or because I've gotten this sick in the first place, and because it came on so suddenly), that somehow it's my fault and that I was probably focusing too much on the negative and not wanting to get better well enough or something like that.

On that note, check out this funny cartoon! (One of my friends, M, showed it to me when I came home all distraught over my encounter with BJ, after I had explained the whole thing to them... or vented, more like.)

The second issue is my spirituality/life choices. I already mentioned how she thinks that I'm sick because I'm drifting from God, or at least that the two timings coincide quite suspiciously. (Because I got sick so suddenly, remember... because it's not like there are any illnesses out there with sudden onsets. Lord forbid I not be able to pinpoint the exact second I got ill and link it to a specific incident. Okay, sorry, sorry... sorry for the sarcasm.)

Basically, I'm not making choices with my life that she approves of, because I've left the path that she deems to be the path of life. She insists it's not about church, but that it's about God, but... I feel that the two are too synonymous in most people's minds to really make a difference. She's devastated because I'm living with my fiance before we're married, but the Bible doesn't say anything about that. The church does. I'm sure EGW probably does somewhere. But God doesn't. Sex before marriage? Yeah, there's stuff in there about that. I know that one, and I'm not going to go into my reasons for why I'm okay with it in certain situations right now. That's not what I need to talk about here. (Besides, there are other things that I'm okay with that God demands people be stoned for, so God and I... we have our differences above and beyond my anger issues with him.)

She told me that I broke her heart, just like her kids have broken her heart, because she/they (she and her husband) gave us everything, hoping that we'd learn to love the Lord and follow him but we've all walked away and she feels like a failure, and... also that I can never again break her heart or hurt her like I already have, because her heart is already broken so badly.

First of all, I resent being "gifted" with the ability to devastate someone like that with the choices that I'm making with my life. Do my choices affect others? Most definitely. Am I responsible for that? Partially yes, and partially no. Others (we're talking mature, responsible adults here, not dependents) also have a choice in how they will respond to my actions, whether they will let themselves be devastated by my choices or simply sad, maybe disappointed. I told her very clearly that I am not making rash decisions, that they are well thought out and wrestled with, and that I have total and complete peace within my own mind about the path that I'm pursuing. She hates that I'm marrying into atheism; I don't mind it. She says that it's going to affect me; I openly acknowledge that it already has, and I quietly acknowledge that I'm grateful for the dose of realism and cynicism. I stated that I am striving to live as authentic of a life as possible, and I am not interested in hiding who I am, where I am, and even why I am.

I just feel that, if I am not making the decisions she feels to be the right ones, then I'm a profound disappointment and I've crushed her soul. No one likes feeling that way, because it's not about my choices, it's about me and my self-worth. I am a disappointment, not my choices. I never, ever feel this way with my mom, with R, or with the S's. They have somehow mastered the art of loving, accepting, and enjoying me, even if they disagree with or are disappointed in the choices that I'm making. BJ has yet to learn this, and I begin to understand why I have felt this strange sense of alienation between her and her youngest son throughout the years. I didn't get why he had this strange, subtle resistance to his parents, especially his mom... but now I do. I feel it, too. You can't thrive in that kind of environment. It's stifling. Her mind is so closed that she can't comprehend that someone else's path might lie along a different track than the one she's taken. She found salvation such-and-such a way and in such-and-such a place; how could you possibly find it elsewhere? It doesn't exist. And if you are outside her understanding of "right", then you will break her heart. *sigh* I'm tired just thinking about it.

The thing is, as long as we kept things light and fluffy, we were fine. We enjoyed ourselves, and had a grand time. It's when things get beyond surface level that trouble brews. I realized last night that I have to draw some boundaries... I just can't let her in to the deeper parts of my life anymore.

I discussed this with C last night, and he told me that he was proud of me, and that I handled it well. I stood up for myself (I didn't go into all the details here, because they're not really important, but I did outline pretty much the whole conversation for him.), whereas a while back I would have quailed beneath her disapproval and cowtowed to her wishes. He pointed out that I'm much stronger than I used to be, even if I don't see it all the time.

Honestly, I am pretty proud of myself, too. I am a little daunted, though, by the task before me of setting boundaries with someone that I've been so open with for so long... but I have to. For both our sakes, I think.

Best part? In days past, I would have been so affected by her words that I would have doubted the decisions that I've made and begun the familiar dance of vacillation. This time, however... I never wavered. I know in my heart that I'm making the right decision for me, regardless of what anyone else thinks, and I'm going to go through with it.

That's not to say that our conversation didn't affect me, because it did. I went to the bathroom and cried. There were "a lot of feels", as my friends would put it. So many feels. Though I managed to tuck it away deep inside me for the duration of our day together, I was swirling in a muddle of torment that evening when I got home. I was able to talk about it with a couple of buddies and with C, so that made processing it a bit easier, and the emotions eased up as I realized what was really going on. I seem to always make the jump to assuming that I'm in the wrong. Always. If something's going on, it's probably my fault.

But the guys helped me to see that such is not always the case. As M pointed out, it seems that the situation was all about her-- her broken heart, her disappointment, the fact that she gave everything and I "betrayed her", so to speak... her confusion about my illness...

Everyone else agrees with me about the whole "facing reality and all the potential outcomes of my illness" situation, by the way. They feel that she is trying to avoid or alter reality... but really, do you blame her? Someone that she's loved and nurtured for over twenty years is suddenly super sick, and talking about how they may end up bedridden someday from this sickness. Wouldn't you panic, too? I mean, who wants that for anyone that they love? I can see why she would deny that possibility and insist that I focus only on the potential for healing. I can see that. I just don't think it's appropriate or helpful.

While I could see her concern and care for me and her sympathy for my pain in her actions throughout the day (not letting me lift things, being considerate of walking distances and having me wait at the front of stores so she could pick me up in the car),  I still don't feel that same support from her that I do from J, or from C, or from my mom, R, and the kids... or even from the guys, for that matter. I don't know what it is, but I just can't consider her to be a part of my support system. She supports me with her actions, but she tears me apart with her words. There is no verbal expression of sympathy or concern for my pain or illnesses, just sighs of sadness and, "Oh, C..." (which, of course, totally mimics disappointment and makes me feel like I've done something wrong in being sick...).

Okay. I'm done. I've waded through this enough. I love the woman, but she's not safe for me anymore. I have to close off that harbor and not anchor there any longer. I can sail through and visit, but I can't unload on the docks.

This is either going to be much, much harder than I think, or much easier than I'm anticipating. We'll see how it goes.

I have something that's heavy on my heart that I want to process through.

Part of me is holding back, since I know that some people actually read this, and, well... maybe it's not something that I'm entirely sure that I want to share with them... just yet. Maybe. It involves a lot of vulnerability and risk on my end, and that's just darn uncomfortable.

But on the other hand... this is my blog, for goodness sake! I can write about whatever I darn well please! This is my space to figure things out, and I don't write for anyone. I write for me. If someone happens to read it, that's incidental.

So I guess I'm just going to hash out what I need to, regardless of the consequences. Come what may. Here goes. *deep breath*

I know it may seem like I'm going crazy these days, going "off the deep end" with my lifestyle in a way. You know, leaving church and questioning God and trying out alcohol and getting my sexy on and all that jazz. Wearing makeup. Eating dairy, and-- Lord forbid-- doing it on a regular basis! (lol) Piercing my ears. Listening to rock and roll. Watching movies. Talking about sex and masturbation openly and freely with friends.

Some who know me may think that I've changed. I disagree. I think that I'm finally allowing myself to be who I've been all along... and I'm not making these decisions on spontaneous whims, either. (Well, most of them. Some are whims, yes, but that's just a part of life.) I pride myself on the fact that I'm making conscious, informed choices based on what I believe to not only be right, but what I believe will enhance my sense of self and be good for me in the long run, as well as those around me (if that applies at all). Remember, my word for this year is "authenticity". I want to be truly who I am, not some faker with a mask on. Too long, too long... I tried being someone else for too long.

And that's part of the problem that I have with "organized religion" or "mainstream Christianity" or whatever you want to call it. I totally believe that the Bible was inspired by God. I do. But after really deeply searching, questioning, and studying the issue, I have come to the conclusion that it is also a very human book influenced by cultural dictates and expectations of the time, and the author's own personal knowledge, understanding, and personality. In short, God may have inspired the original thought, but it had to pass through a lot of filters before it got down on paper... and I'm okay with that. I realized that I used to believe that God just kind of opened his mouth and the King James Bible fell out of it into our laps. Not the case at all!

Anyway, what I encountered in my bouts of intense Christianity is this-- people and churches hold the Bible up as this standard (which is good, don't get me wrong), but it becomes an inviolable pattern for what a person should be. You must be this way to be spiritual. You must do this to be a Christian. If you don't fit the mold, then you must alter yourself to fit it.

It makes me think of the fashion industry. They hold up this standard of beauty that's totally unrealistic, and then the average woman must pinch, poke, tuck, cut, sew, sweat, paint, pluck, and perform all kinds of contortions to fit herself into this preconceived concept of beauty... instead of acknowledging, owning, and celebrating the innate and inherent beauty that she already possesses. People are all beautiful in different ways, and what appeals to one person doesn't necessarily appeal to another. That's just the way it works.

And I feel it's the same with souls, or personalities, or whatever you want to call it. This standard, this mold, is held up as being The Only Way, and it is left up to you to essentially mutilate yourself to fit into that mold. I hate that. My relationship with God is not one-size-fits-all, and neither is my personality. I'm not like other people in many, many ways.

It's taken a long time before I've become okay with that. My mom was instrumental in the dawning of this realization. I was bemoaning the fact that I wasn't as good of a person as I wanted to be, etc, and she pointed out to me that God created me with the personality that I have. Who I am is part nurture, of course, but part of it is nature, and that came from God. (God, and my genes... That's a subject for later. I don't think God has a chemistry lab full of personality components up in the sky somewhere, nor do I think he has buttons and levers in our heads to "direct our steps", but I think he works through circumstances and events and makes the best of the choices that we make through our free will.)

So I'm becoming more in tune with who I am, really... trying to be an authentic person, and striving to become a better and better person through that-- a healthy, balanced person who can give back to the world around her in a positive way. Not out of guilt, not because I "have to" in order to be accepted by people or by God, not because people are watching me and I want to impress them with how good I am (I went through that pissing contest with Brother G during our "courtship". Ugh. I was SO depressed!).

And that brings me to the heavy stuff.

C and I have been having some interesting conversations about sex lately... you know, since I'm thinking about it and talking about it all the time. Anyway, it's been challenging for me in some really weird ways, as I've had to confront and think through a lot of the issues with sex I've been carrying around for so long. Firstly, my experience with and understanding of sexuality was warped from the get-go, because my introduction was being molested by a father figure. After that started, I began frequenting AOL chat rooms and experimenting with online sex, although I didn't know about masturbation, so I was kind of out of the loop on that one. It was a thrill, but it was really scary and creepy so I quit that.

I don't know why I didn't become promiscuous. I think there is something innately in me that leans toward modesty, and I'm grateful for that. I'm too... faithful, I guess. I want to attach to one person at a time. I simply can't have sex with someone I am not in a committed, serious relationship with. (Not that I've ever slept with anyone besides C, but that doesn't really matter.) Heck, I never even dated someone that I was not friends with first. That's just me. And I think that kept me from sleeping around, because I totally could have swung that way. I so much crave approval and acceptance, I'm mildly surprised that I didn't go that route. But, despite the warpage I received, I've always been pretty naive about sex. (C is "educating" me about some things, and my mind is continually being blown about all the stuff I never knew about. Wowza. Some of it's good, some of it's weird, and some of it's downright creepy and we laugh at it.)

Our recent conversations have been a catalyst for much thought, it's true... and they've brought up an issue that's also been brought up repeatedly in the past. I have done some deep thinking and soul-searching on it, and I came to a rather startling conclusion the other day that has me reeling.

I kind of feel the same way that I did when I got my fibromyalgia diagnosis. It's like, "Oh, that's the name to describe what I've been going through! Okay! So now I have an identifier. Um... what do I do with this? How do I balance this in my life, and how do I deal with this new word that is a part of my life, and all the attendant emotions/repercussions?"

After doing some deep thinking and soul searching, and finally being in a place where I feel okay to be honest with myself, I realized a hard truth.

I'm bisexual.

I'm marrying a man in 8 weeks, but I'm attracted to women as well. I have been for as long as I can remember.

I've denied it for a super long time, especially after entering the world of conservative Adventism. Homosexuality in any form is wrong, and the people must be changed! (Again, back to the mutilation of personhood for the sake of the standard/mold.) I still haven't figured out why God hates gay people so much... but I'm sure it's an issue that I'll be dealing with if I want to keep any kind of relationship with him, which I totally do.

Funny thing is, I've never been able to bring myself to condemn homosexuality, and I never could figure out why, exactly. You know Christians rant and rave about the homos and how God's going to punish them and it's a crime against nature, yada yada yada... I never could get into that. I always felt sympathetic, like, "Dude, it's their choice, their life, and they're not messing with you, so leave them alone! What's your deal?" Like, really? Who am I to tell someone who they can and cannot love?

And now I realize that it's because I identify with them.

It's really, really weird to be able to say that, to put into words an aspect of my life that's been repressed for the entirety of it... to own something so potentially divisive and, well... explosive, for lack of a better term.

I don't really feel the need to tell anyone about it, really, because I am marrying a man in a few weeks, after all. If I were single and went out and got a girlfriend, then yeah. I'd have to explain something to friends and family. As it is, though, I've never really acted on my inclinations. I know they can be ignored, even if they're forever lurking.

The neat thing is that C is totally supportive of me. I am not going to go cheat on him with a woman, just as I would never cheat on him with a man. We're still in a committed, monogamous relationship and this doesn't change that. Sure, if I had owned this sooner I may have ended up with a woman instead of a man, but I love C with my entire being. This changes nothing, except that being able to be honest with him about this and receiving his unconditional love and support has deepened and strengthened our relationship.

I'm feeling very insecure and vulnerable since I "came out" to C the other day, because I'm still not sure where-- or even if-- this fits into my life at all, except that I now have permission to freely check out chicks much as I would check out guys. "Oooh, he's cute!" "Wow, she's hot!" lol

It's just... weird. Owning this, acknowledging this... I feel free, but at the same time terrified. What if I lose friends over this? I keep having dreams that I end up in these helpless situations and SOULS people are trying to kill me. No joke. It's been a recurring theme these past few days. I guess it's that I still care about all my former classmates and the SOULS people... and I kind of miss being part of such a tight-knit culture. But I really (and I mean really) don't fit into that culture any more... and I'm also scared of being judged, rejected, scathingly rebuked, and all that jazz. The friends I have in real life right now? They would be totally fine with it. As a matter of fact, I told S this morning, and he just looked at me like, "So?" LOL. It's just not a big deal, because we all have that mindset of, "You believe what you believe, you live the way you want to live, and as long as you're not hurting anyone we're cool. If you are doing something stupid, we'll tell you, and don't screw anyone over or you'll get your a** kicked... and then we'll be cool again if you've learned your lesson."

I remember back when a friend of mine came out on her blog, while I was living up north. I showed it to C (my adopted mom, not my future husband) and we talked about it a little bit. She then proceeded to ask me if I was gay, and of course I answered no! The ulterior motive was to make sure that I wasn't going to go around corrupting her daughters, which I totally understand. But, you see, I'm not gay. I like guys very much! I'm marrying one, for crying out loud! But I also like girls.

I've never acted on it much... just a few incidents here and there. That's not to say that I didn't want to, but I'd been conditioned to believe that it was okay for other people, but it was bad for me. Dirty. You don't do that if you're a good person, you know? And SOULS definitely reinforced that. But yeah, I've wanted to date several girls in my life. And I've had crushes on girls right along with guys. I tend to like guys more often and with more intensity than girls, but it's still there.

So... yeah. My big secret, blown.

I really hope no one hates me after this. J, are you reading this? Can we still be besties? Are you still standing up with me at my wedding?

I'm literally in tears over the prospect of losing valuable relationships over this, because so many people I know and love are the conservative Christians who condemn this kind of thing on principle... and I really, really don't want anyone to be uncomfortable around me. I mean, I'm sleeping over at my sis J's house in a week, and I don't want her to think that I'm secretly hitting on her or anything. I mean, it's like any other sexual attraction-- just cause you're heterosexual doesn't mean you want to sleep with every guy you see, or even flirt with them. You're not attracted to every guy, you don't want a relationship with every guy... and it's the same thing. I'm not attracted to every girl, and I really haven't changed at all. The only thing is that I'm recognizing and owning a trait that was already there, that has been there most of my life. I'm still the same person, I'm still faithful to my fiance, and I'm still madly in love with him. My platonic relationships are still platonic, my friendships with girls are still just friendships (just as with my guy friends), and my family is still my family.

Again, it's like my fibro diagnosis. Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed. The way I see myself has changed, and I'm trying to work through that. It's tough. I'm scared, vulnerable, and very insecure. But having that warm safety net of C's devotion and affection has meant more than I can say. He loves me-- all of me-- including this facet. Oh man, do you know what it is like to experience a love like that? To be totally known and totally accepted? It's... bliss, man. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I don't know how to wrap this up, frankly. I was afraid that I'd get all this out and then delete it, but... I think I need to take that step and post it. For myself. Because if I delete it, then I'm negating the sentences where I say "I'm okay with myself." I'm giving into a shame that has no source, out of fear of rejection that may or may not happen... I'm letting "what ifs" control me, and I don't wanna live that way anymore. This isn't about my sexuality so much as it is taking control of my own life and not letting fear control me anymore.

And with that.... *deep breath* I'm clicking the Publish button.

Note: An interesting link that explains bisexuality in a very rational way, for those so inclined to further understand what it's all about. The "Tips" section I find especially helpful in explaining the thought process surrounding it. Oh, yes, and then there's this one- 8 Tips on How to Accept a Close Friend's Sexual Orientation. Just some fun food for thought, and a different perspective/thought process for some people.

It occurs to me... that I am depressed.

It just kind of occurred to me earlier as I was contemplating, "What the heck is up with me today??"

That's a little disappointing, as I was almost sure that I'd been "cured". (I keep doing that. Only to be let down.) I hadn't had a major depressive episode since I quit facilitating the girl's group, more or less.

I mean, I'm not majorly depressed. It's weird. It's like depression... without the hate.

I could feel myself sliding these past few days, but I somehow thought that I could avert it by being kind to myself, taking care of myself... not being a jerk to myself. You know-- positive self-talk and all that. I'm doing fairly well in that arena, which clues me in to the fact that my previous counselor was probably right-- depression and thyroid problems are definitely linked.

I put the puzzle pieces together. So many of my signs and symptoms, staring me in the face, yet they all seemed like unrelated fragments, not shards of the same picture. Classic Cassandra Depression, though. Funny, that. Irritable (over the silliest things!), so tired, sleeping copious amounts, antsy/restless, night owl tendencies emerging, little to no motivation, stress/freaking out easily, wonky sex drive, appetite changes, only desire is to surf the internet, intestinal distress, disinterest/unmotivated in personal appearance, etc.

Yet... it's not like the depressions of yore. I feel out of sorts, yes. (I announced that last night, as a matter of fact. "Guys, I believe that I am out of sorts today.") Yet it's not that bad. I mean, it's not the deep, dark hole that I fear so much. It's... like trying to walk waist-deep through a bog. But I'm not drowning. And I don't hate myself, exactly. I mean, I'm bummed that I'm depressed after all my efforts to the contrary. (It sounds like I caught a cold or something! lol But really, it feels that way. Like I was just walking along, lalalala, and BAM!) I feel helpless and frustrated, like it seems that I have no choice in this matter... but... it's not that bad. I'm grateful for that. And I refuse to cut myself down, put myself down, hate myself, or otherwise be abusive towards myself.

Despite this, I will continue to be kind and considerate to myself.

I don't really know how to handle this, though. Like... do I try to push through and motivate and get stuff done regardless? Or do I simply say, "Ok, you need to just take some space to be unfocused and do whatever you need to do, since you're obviously not okay to be functioning normally"? (It seems like I'm always having to make concessions for diminished functioning, whether physical or mental. It's getting real old, real fast.)

It was just funny, though, the realization. Like, "Hey. You're depressed."

"Oh. Oh! Is that what this is? Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense... explains a lot. Hmm. Oh."

I'll have to mention this to my counselor this week.

I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with fundamentalist religion.

I mean, it's not like they're doing anything, but...

I don't know.

It's just like, Really? Your way is the only way? Ever? Really. Because it seems to me that things were done a lot differently than your way for eons. Your way is a product of a certain time period, a certain school of thought present in a certain era... Yet that now automatically becomes the only right way to do things ever in the history of mankind and anyone who deviates from it is hellbound.

I guess I'm just frustrated with the rigidity and the insufferable arrogance that precipitates the statement that "we alone have the truth". 

No, it's not about "being allowed" to do things or not do certain things. It's not about, "I never got to go to the movies as a child." It's not about, "I can't eat this or I can't drink that."

It's about being right. It's about black and white, truth and deception, and the idea that if you don't subscribe to a certain set of beliefs then you're deluded and will face eternal doom. It's about no room for relationship, for pilgrimage, for honest-to-god seeking and trying and working out your problems. It's about I'm too tired to try anymore. It's about too many people being torn down, stomped on, and damaged by the straitlaced certainty that Jesus is coming and you damn well better be ready.

It's about this.

Fb status update on my timeline--
"Different personalities praise God most genuinely in different ways. Different generations praise God most genuinely in different ways. So no one style of worship should be imposed on everyone as morally correct. That makes church services stifling. Worship turns into ritual. Everything begins to seem memorized. The most joyful worship happens when people find a language that speaks to their innermost emotions, that gives voice to their inner self before God. That language could be a certain style of music, it could be a certain kind of congregational sharing, it could be a certain experience that a speaker shares. What will help people find their worship language is to allow room in the church for a variety of creative expression."

{Steven Mosley}

Response from certainly well-meaning fundamentalist friend--

Hate to be an old stick in the mud, But there is only one way to worship God.

It's about how I wish we could all be free to be who we really are without that message hitting us in the psychological groin... You know, the Christian worldview. God made you in his image, so you were supposed to be good, except that we're all screwed up because of sin so you really aren't good, but you can be good with God in your life, except that you'll never actually be a good person, it's just God puppeting. Good puppeteer, bad puppet. Sorry kid, that's the breaks.

The sign on the church down the street blares this message at me every time I drive by: "God loves you not because you're awesome, but because he is."

Well, thank you for that.

No, seriously. You just taught me how not to parent. Think about it-- would you not be outraged if you heard a parent tell a child in all earnestness, "You're rotten, but I love you. See how wonderful I am?"

Uh, no. 

If we don't buy this on the human scale, why do we buy it on the cosmic scale?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not preaching the gospel of entitlement, here... I'm just advocating for intrinsic worth... something I feel that I have yet to find inside the doors of a church.

Maybe I'll end up a new ager. Maybe I'll end up a secular humanist. Maybe I'll realize that all this stuff I thought Christianity was saying was actually a misunderstanding on my part.

Whatever happens, I know I'm not going to be joining a church if I still hear this message from the people and the pulpit.

(By the way, ever read the book Sybil? It's horrifying and captivating-- an insight into a deeply wounded mind that did what it had to in order to survive. Guess what? Sybil's parents were SDA. That's right, she was raised among our ranks. Now, I'm not saying that's got anything to do with her torture, because her mom was legitimately insane and psychotic and a horrible, horrible person, SDA or not. However, seeing the religious compunctions and restrictions that come up during her recovery are... interesting. Obviously, having been raised in the 30's, the mindset was different. Decidedly more Victorian. However, considering it to be sinful to be unhappy? Yeah, I've heard that in recent years. Therapy is of the devil? Yup, heard that too. You just need to pray through your problems? I've definitely heard that one. Anyway, just an interesting side note. I resonate more with Sybil than I'd care to, on many levels, including the SDA background.)

FML.

Guess I'm just crazy...

Well, we'll see. As C says, "Give it time."

I don't want to, but what choice do I have?

C and I are discussing my moving in.

Terrifying.

Why? For a number of reasons...

I mean, it's not like I don't want to live together. I made a point to sit down and talk with him about it specifically, because we'd been throwing the idea around a little lately, and I've been practically living at his apartment for the last month or so, for all intents and purposes.... but I didn't want us to just end up "sliding" into a living arrangement for the sake of convenience. I wanted to be sure it was something we both wanted. I want to make sure it's an intentional step in the direction of marriage, rather than something we just fall into.

And he does want me here, which is a relief. Somehow, I'm always still so afraid of rejection, even in the most seemingly secure relationships. But, like all things, he wants me to do this only if it's something I really want to do, not just as a matter of convenience. So we're on the same page, but the thing is... I know that I want this, yet at the same time... I have so many feelings that I just haven't looked at, and I can't fully say "yes" at this moment.

First of all, I'm afraid. I told C that yesterday, and he nailed it on the head-- "You're afraid of settling down, of putting down roots?" Yes, yes I am. C and I talked about that over our lemonade, as well, how I'll probably still go through these periods where I get the urge to run, and I just need to be honest and communicate. Because of our pasts, we're so used to just up and moving on, of constantly picking ourselves up and relocating when we're uncomfortable or feel like we need to. I know I have that tendency, I know I do. But C is so steady, that to live with him, to accept his proposal of marriage sometime in the future, means to be settled. In one place. Like, forever.

I don't know why I'm so afraid of settling down except that it signifies a lack of escape. Trapped, as it were. Yet, if there were any guy I'd want to be "trapped" with, it'd be C. I guess I'm just afraid that I'll find that I'm not happy, or that I made a wrong choice, and then I'll be stuck with no way to make it better and I'll be in this miserable state forever... just like so many of the marriages that I've seen over the past few years... just like Mom.

Oh, snap. I'm afraid of being my mother. I'm afraid of making the same mistakes she did... of marrying someone who seems like a good candidate because I feel it's my only chance, and then finding out that it's probably the worst decision I could have made, but then being trapped because I want to make it work and there are kids involved, and being a single mom is so hard, and...

I guess I'm afraid that if I take the plunge, suddenly everything will change. The happiness I know now will turn on its head, and I will be sad and stuck. Truthfully, things have been going so well lately, I'm just waiting for the axe to fall. How long can I go without having a breakdown? How long can I go without something bad happening? I don't know...

I'm also afraid of what people will think. At least right now, I can deflect the polite inquiries of church-going friends with the base truth that I'm still living at my grandparent's home. There are only a handful of people that know C and I are together, much less planning to marry. However, if I move in with him, I can no longer be evasive in that way. I'll have to tell the truth, to face the disapproval, to face the zealous efforts to win me back to the faith, to expend the energy it takes to be truly authentic and real about who I am instead of still hiding behind the thin veneer of Former Bible Worker... I'll have to actually set boundaries and keep them... instead of lying because it's easier.

God, I've been lying. I've been lying because I'm afraid. I've been lying because I'm so tired of everyone knowing what's best for me, what I should be doing, how I ought to be living, how to "fix" me... I just want to live my own life, my unique, beautiful life, without having to fend off well-meaning efforts to transform me into something I'm not.

And I'm sorry. You know I hate lying. I hate fakers. I hate hypocrites. And you do, too. I'm so sorry. I don't want to be a liar, but I just don't have the courage to be real... but I want to. Can you help me? Help me to be real? Help me not to lie anymore? I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was doing it at first, but once I was, it was too easy to continue. Help me to be wise about this truthfulness, please. Help me.

Another reason why I have hesitancy is simply because there's not much room for me or my things. Gma and Gpa said I can keep some totes in the sheds at their place (and that'll work fine until C and I get a house), and C says I can stack stuff in the corner of his room, and I think that'll pretty much take care of it. But C already has a roommate, and a bunch of guys that crash here on weekends sometimes. So I'm worried about having my "space", my "alone time"... but S is really good about being accommodating. He's very respectful. And I always have the porch, or C's room. And I was coming here to get away from Gma and Gpa's, where I didn't feel like I had a place or space of my own, either... so it's kind of no different... because I didn't have space for my things there, either. Felt like an imposition. I think I'd feel like less of an imposition here...

The big thing for me was that I'm trying to keep Sabbath, but it's hard here, because of DnD on Fri nights, and the guys all hanging around on Saturday for DnD that night... so, unless I take off or lock myself in C's room... but C's days off are changing from Fri-Sat. to Sun-Mon, which means that DnD will move to those nights, which means that there won't be all those guys hanging around and watching dumb tv on Sabbaths, which means that it will be much easier for me to create a Sabbath atmosphere. Worse comes to worse, I could always go hang out at Gma and Gpa's for Sabbath. Or, heaven forbid, start going to church again! lol

Once it cools down, I intend to take the day out in the desert and hike, so that won't be a problem. It's just these accursed summer months, where the days are SO long and it's SO hot... I don't know what to do with myself, and it's frustrating. You can only play guitar for so long...

And, also, I have to remember that it will not be like this forever. This is temporary. C's got vacation time coming up in August, and he wants to use that to house-hunt. I think that when we get a house, things will be a little different. Yeah, the guys will still come over for game night, but C will have his own "man-cave" room for that, and it basically just won't be a little apartment. Things are always more difficult, the less space you have.

I guess the basic question is, do I want to live with C or not? All those "difficulties" can be ironed out. That's a part of life. It will never go "just so".

But do I really want this?

Yes... but still hesitant. I guess I'm just afraid that it will be awful, that the difficulties will be too much, and that I won't like it... that I'll be dissatisfied... that history will repeat itself and that I'll just up and leave again...

I'm afraid to do what we did before, because I don't want it to end the same way.

And, I remember that when I moved in last time, I was so horrifically depressed. I mean, it was so bad... and I know somewhat why. Because I went from being away at school, surrounded by friends, to being alone most of the day. I didn't have friends anymore. I went to church, but then I came home to an empty house. My family had just moved across the country. C and B were my only real meaningful relationships, and I was incredibly lonely. I needed interaction, relationship.

Also, I had no job. I felt like a drain on C. I felt worthless and useless and like a bad person. I had no purpose. I had no hobbies to speak of. I was isolated, trapped, bored... so I baked. And that helped, some. But I was very bored, and aimless.

On top of all that, I had just gone through a summer of canvassing with very conservative folks, and then a year at my denomination's school, culminating in baptism. But my church frowns upon relationships with people who don't believe the same as you do, and especially frowns upon pre-marital sex and living together. That's not the way you do it. It's a sin. So I felt cut off from God, from my church... I lived in a state of condemnation.

And I was depressed.

And I still struggle with depression. I'm so afraid that it'll happen again...

But things are different, now. I'm different.

I'm stronger. I have a purpose. I have hobbies of my own. I have friends, meaningful relationships. I have a job (sort of!). I feel I have worthwhile contributions to make to the relationship. I have stood on my own two feet, and I know I can do that again if I have to. I can be independent if I choose. And... I believe a little differently now about God. I'm not living in that state of condemnation anymore. (Although I think I'm fearful that I'll go right back into it if I make this decision...) I have every reason to believe that things will be different this time around... and yet I am still afraid.

You can make a decision despite fear.

I may end up doing just that.

Note: I read this post to C when I was done, for the sake of communication and honesty. He... wasn't surprised. lol.  He knows I'm afraid, and that led to a side conversation about how (and I quote) "you have a comfort zone of running away". Wow, can he call it or what? It's just hard for me to fathom how blessed I am to have a guy who understands that I'm afraid, who knows that I prefer to run, who anticipates it and is okay with it and isn't threatened by it, and, fore-mostly, who loves me to pieces regardless. (Another quote--"I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you as much as you know... and then some!" Can we say, "Awwwww"?)