(image found at http://xkcd.com/137/)

There's been some stuff that I've been wanting to write about lately, but I've held myself back because I'm afraid. I'm afraid of rejection, afraid of judgment, afraid that I might offend those readers whom I call friends so deeply that they will turn away and never come back. I've been toying with the idea of writing it anyway, because really, this is my space to be free and be myself without judgment, and the moment I censor myself because of some imagined consequences at the hands of probable judges, well… I might as well just stop writing altogether.

I do know that some of the things I have to write will be unsavory for certain members of the conservative Christian crowd that I used to run with, and that's fine. Different strokes for different folks, you know? But it's the thought of those conservatives that fills me with such dread, as I know that such a community can be rather… unforgiving in nature, and I don't want to bring that kind of wrath down upon myself. I also don't want to make myself the target of some kind of evangelistic campaign designed to "win me back to the truth" or "bring me to the light" somehow. The choices that I've made have been very deliberate and thoughtful, not hasty compromises made in the throes of passion or despair. 

I don't feel like I'm being true to myself, editing out important bits of my life and personality this way. With this in mind, I have decided to write. Stumbling upon this cartoon earlier this evening just underscored my conviction and reinforced my thoughts. I still wish to take the convictions and repugnances of others into consideration, however, such as the toning down of the language that I often use, substituting swear words and epithets for other phrases. My plan is to speak in broad strokes about what I wish, and if I feel the need to go into detail I'll save it for a separate post, so readers can decide if they want to read that particular entry or not.

Why all this hesitation, all this caution, you ask? To put it simply, I'm an active member of the BDSM culture and community where I live, and I apply the kinks and fetishes I am interested in to my lifestyle on a regular basis. No, Corey and I aren't having sex on a very regular basis anymore, simply due to illness constraints and stress problems, but I can say in all honesty that kink isn't just about sex. That is, it doesn't have to be. It can be, or it can be completely removed from lust and intercourse. You really have to be involved to understand. But yes-- I like leather and lashes and corsets and ropes. All of that good old taboo stuff. There is a huge wide world of kink and fetishes within BDSM, of course. There's no way one could possibly be interested in or involved in everything. What I appreciate most about the culture is its emphasis on Safe, Sane, and Consensual, or alternately phrased, Risk Aware Consensual Kink.

What I would ask is that anyone who is finding themselves repulsed or immediately huffy and judgmental, do some research. There are a million and one websites that explain the basics and the theory without being pornographic, and who knows but that the information may prove of use in the future? Just because a person looks "vanilla" (not involved with kink) doesn't mean they are. Most of us keep up a very good front, afraid to come out of the closet for fear of losing jobs, friends, family relationships… There is a lot of stigma, and a lot of misinformation. That's part of the reason why I want to be open and honest about this; to dislodge and refute stereotypes and negative associations.

The reason I bring this up at all is because it's how I celebrated my birthday. The group in Yuma that I'm a part of has monthly "munches", which are vanilla gatherings where we get together and eat, hang out, and just generally have a fun time together. We also have monthly play parties where we get together and do just what the name implies-- we play, as groups, couples, or individuals. I've attended several parties but I've never had the opportunity to engage in any play before, as one of the rules imposed on me is that I'm not allowed to play unless Drogo is in attendance and gives me permission. His days off were changed to include the day the play party was held, and he came with and gave me permission to engage in some play. He said, "It's your birthday; go have some fun," all indulgent-like. It was cute. I was ecstatic. But I will write a separate post about the party and how it went, what I did, etc. for anyone who wishes to read it. Most of the time, at that party and at all the others, my time is spent hanging out with a plate of food and chatting with my friends. Just like any other party. We really are like any other people, except that our mutual hobbies are considered alternative, or even "bad". (Hence the secrecy.)

Another thing I've been wanting to write about but holding back on is my spiritual journey. If you've read some stuff from the early days of my blog, you may know that I was struggling along in a particularly conservative branch of Protestantism known as Seventh Day Adventist. I have absolutely nothing against the Adventist church, as I was essentially born and raised SDA and have a great number of fond memories throughout my life associated with it. A large amount of the people I hold near and dear to my heart are active SDA members, and I spent 3 or 4 years working as a missionary for the church here in the States. That being said, some of the attitudes and actions of members and leaders in the church really damaged me in profound ways, and some of the beliefs held by the church and by the members crippled me in ways that have been difficult to undo.

After moving back to the Southwest from the Northwest, where I lived for several years, I engaged in about a year and a half of study as to whether the basic tenets of Christianity and the authenticity of the Bible were real concepts that I could trust and build my belief system upon. I didn't find it to be so. When I stopped trying to make Christianity my worldview, life started making more sense. I began recovering from the depression that gripped me with suicidal force and pulled me into a blackness so thick that I could feel nothing else, nothing but crushing despair and agony. I laugh a little bitterly to myself when I think that I have a "reverse testimony"; that is, I'm the opposite of the people that stand up and tell how they were tormented and miserable and did all kinds of things and couldn't find happiness or true satisfaction in life until they "found Jesus", and once they became Christians and got saved then they had happiness and peace and life made sense for the first time. For me, I was tormented and miserable and couldn't find happiness or true satisfaction until I walked away from Christianity. Finally, finally, for what seemed the first time in my life, I had peace. I was happy. And I felt guilty, because from infancy up I had been taught that the SDA church had "the Truth", and if I walked away from that I would be lost forever. I worried that maybe it actually was true, and I was going to be lost for walking away… but I couldn't bring myself to go back, to resign myself to a life of such deep unhappiness and emptiness. Not now that I'd finally started liking who I was, seeing worth in myself and seeing beauty in the life around me and before me.

I've come to the place over these past 2 years where I will now call myself an agnostic atheist. My belief is that deities are the creations of mankind, a projection, a metaphor, something we need to survive mentally and emotionally as beings of higher intelligence. Don't quiz me on facts and details-- I'm still figuring all this out, and I was never a good apologeticist, no matter what side of things I stood on. I've always had leanings toward paganism, though-- Wicca or NeoPaganism and all that, or maybe some of the New Age beliefs. As I've been doing research lately, though, I have found that even Wicca is too "religious" for me. Again, I don't believe in actual, literal deities, and Wicca calls upon the God and the Goddess as literal beings. No, I'm more interested in earth based religions that acknowledge the energy and the life forces in the world around us, in the universe we reside in, and that seeks to reach out and redirect those forces with my own will. I think that the rituals have some kind of scientific effect that we don't understand yet, and so the results are attributed to "magick". A great deal of what is done now, without a second thought, could and likely would have been labeled magick a few centuries ago, much less thousands of years ago. If you went back to 12 A.D. and had a Bic lighter in your hand, do you think the people around you would recognize the interaction of friction and heat and fuel? Nope. You'd be a wizard, a sorcerer, a speaker for the gods.

Anyway, that's where I'm at now. I feel a large sense of relief to have written all that, but I also feel a nervous quivering throughout me as I contemplate pressing the "Publish" button. What if I lose my friends? What if my bestie doesn't wanna be my bestie anymore? *sigh* But then I guess… this part of me is still there, whether I speak about it or not. If I lose friends or family or whatever over this, well… them only accepting part of me isn't enough. That's not real acceptance, nor is it real love. It's just a test I must brave, I suppose.

That in mind… there's no way I'd ever reveal any of this to my grandparents, though. My grampa and I recently got into a very heated disagreement regarding Adventists who keep the Old Testament feasts. I know several people who do, and did myself at one point in time. My point was that they are living up to what they believe is what God wants them to do. Grampa got angry because they're WRONG, doesn't matter if they believe they're right or not, and they need to give up their sin and come back to the truth of God, yadda yadda yadda. He came to me and apologized afterward, admitting that he was being very closed-minded and cruel and it wasn't okay. I appreciated that very much. But if I were ever to tell him that I'm a pagan atheist BDSMer who is heteroflexible? Yeah. He'd probably never speak to me again. I've noticed that as people age they tend to become very inflexible, closed, and narrow minded. Their way or the high way, you know? Maybe it's just older Christians, or older Adventists in particular. I mean, they've spent so long having the idea pounded into them that only SDA's have the Truth, everyone else is wrong, and that a good SDA will tell them they're wrong so that they're not eternally lost. Otherwise it's on your head if they're "lost" and you didn't tell 'em, you know? Just another reason I left. I was sick of the gut sickening feeling I'd get when I walked into a grocery store or a gas station and felt like had to pass out tracts and witness or else I wasn't living up to my commitment as a Christian, and that maybe I'd let an opportunity pass that was the person's last. You know, like they'd die in a car accident right afterward on their way home or something. I hated that pressure. I still exult in my freedom as I walk into the grocery store and know that I don't have to interact with a single damn person if I don't want to, and usually I don't.

As my friend and I were discussing earlier, things change and people change right along with them. I am a very different person than I was just a year ago, or even a few months for that matter! I feel like springtime, like a bud poised on the edge of blooming at any second, like I'm finally growing after a season of being stumped and stunted and I'm coming into my potential at last. It's a great feeling. I'm learning and expanding in so many ways, and I just want to keep going. Everything inside me feels clean and happy, despite being sick, despite my life having taken such a drastic left turn. No, things aren't perfect, and there's still stress on me and in our household due to various things (bills, illness, general relationship stuff that happens to everyone), but I know that I'm already a richly developed woman and that the trend will continue. Honestly? I feel like I'm my own friend for the first time, and I'm actually glad to know me. I'm proud of myself. Isn't that the craziest thing?

I came to a decision this morning.

Sure, it's fast, but I'm a pretty fast decision maker as a generality. I like things to happen now!

Anyway, I may go into this more later (I'm hurtin' right now, and not really in zee blogging mood), but I have decided that I will, in fact, postpone the massage therapy program for a year.

I'm postponing, not quitting. And it's a mature, thought-out decision, not a failure.

I just don't want to make a bunch of progress towards getting my health straightened back out and then go into a big ol' relapse because I pushed it too hard, too soon. I'm trying to look more at the long-term, and I think that this is the best decision I can make for myself right now.

I talked to C this morning about my thoughts last night, and the possible options, and all that stuff. He's behind me no matter what I choose, but the big epiphany for me was realizing that even if I'm "just" a housewife, he's fine with that. I have the freedom to choose what's best for me, and he's okay with whatever I decide. That is very freeing. To know that he will neither think less of me nor resent me for not "pitching in"... that allows me to make a decision based on what is really the best, rather than a decision motivated by the fear of rejection or other emotions.

Also... this means I can go to J's wedding! I would be lying if I didn't say that this was a slight motivating factor in my plans... But now we can combine the "let's go get my cat and the rest of my stuff" trip with J's wedding, so that's perfect. I'm starting to save up already.

I have other things I can focus on to keep me occupied while I really work on getting myself to a healthy place. It reminds me of what I went through in Id with the S's... I kinda dinked around and kept myself occupied with work of various sorts while I put a lot of focused energy into healing emotionally and mentally from the past abuse. Now that I've advanced much further emotionally, it's time to focus on advancing physically.

Honestly, I do feel relieved having come to an actual decision. This question of "but can you do the massage program?" has been brought up to me many times through the past few months by many different people. I brushed them off as party poopers, determined to charge headfirst into the challenge and prove myself a Mighty Fibromyalgia Warrior. However... I'm thinking at this point that maybe discretion is the better part of valor. I'm still a Warrior... but taking a different tack.

The best part? I feel good about this decision. I believe I'm doing the right thing, and I feel peaceful and settled. I can see that my reasons are good ones, and that I am doing this for good reasons, so I am not afraid. (Much.) Also? It's my life, and it doesn't matter if anyone else agrees or disagrees, frankly. As long as I (and C, since he has a stake in this now) am okay with it and believe I'm on the right path, well... that's what really matters.

Today was a big day. I'm thoroughly exhausted.

Achievement! I fell asleep early and slept through the night, with only one wake-up-and-use-the-bathroom-break. (Usually I have at least 3 or 4). I woke up early, and it was nice. I feel better when I do the early to bed, early to rise thing, so I think I'll be sticking to that more. The only downside is that I see C much less.

We went and saw a house this morning. It's nice, but smaller than we'd prefer, buuuut... considering the price and the neighborhood it's in, it's a steal. The next house for sale in that neighborhood is a full $20,000 more, and prices are still rising! So after careful thought and deliberation, C decided to go for it, and I was totally on board. It's move in ready, and I know we can be quite comfortable there, despite the, uh, coziness. It's not that I was simply giving in to my impatience, either; considering how many crappy listings we have to go through to get a decent one, we need to jump on a good house when we see one. Plus it's already graveled in front like we want, and has a high block wall in the back, which is super important to C. Also, there's some pressure to get locked into a contract before April 1st, because some things are changing in the legislation of how some stuff works (nothing big, don't freak), and it would be better for us to have bought before then. So we signed.

After picking up some sushi for lunch, we headed back home. C has overtime today, though it's usually his day off, but I was headed off to the antique car show. I wanted him to come with me, but alas... he doesn't exactly get to control his schedule. I was already a bit tired by this point, after seeing the house and running errands and doing paperwork all morning, but this car show is only one weekend, and I love going. It's important to me.

So I headed out, walker in tow. I did get a little sunburnt, but that just means that winter is over! Yay! I loved seeing all the various makes and models of cars from throughout the years. I even saw the oldest street legal car in America! It was basically a box with wheels, a stick for steering, and a horn strapped on the side. It had headlights and such, but it didn't even have a windshield! I suppose it doesn't really need one, because it tops out at 35 mph... Still, pretty cool. I believe it was from 1918.

I spent about an hour and a half there, and by the time I was done I was really, really exhausted. I made it home and collapsed into bed with a bowl of applesauce, a glass of juice, a bottle of water, my computer, and my phone. Everything a gal needs :)

I took a very short nap a little later on, and I feel perky enough to pop in a movie and work on some wedding stuff. Some of the guys are over playing video games, and they're so. loud. It's annoying, but I know that I'm just hyper-sensitive right now because of my fatigue. They're really no louder than normal. It's just me. lol. So I've closeted myself away in the room.

Also, I texted our realtor after I woke up, and come to find out... they accepted our offer!! We open escrow on Monday! We're buying a house!

If it all goes smoothly, we should be closing a few days after our honeymoon. So... a month, basically. 5 weeks? Yeah.

It's gonna be a heck of a month! We've already got the inspection scheduled for this coming week. (On my birthday, in fact... Happy birthday! Here's a house! lol)

So it was a good day, despite pain and such. (After my massage yesterday, my legs started aching and aching soooo badly... but fortunately, the heating pad I ordered came in the mail yesterday, so I put it to good use!) It was a big day! A day that shall forever live in infamy! Oh, wait...

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.

I made a couple of decisions today that I would not have foreseen myself making a year ago... much less a few months ago!

First of all, I pierced my earlobes today! I'd been toying with the idea recently, decided to go through with it... eventually... but when K asked me to take him to Walmart today I stopped by the jewelry counter on a whim. There was an employee there, and Walmart offers free piercing with the purchase of the starter earrings and cleaning solution, which was like, 10 bucks. Easy peasy, and I'll be able to switch out the starter studs with other earrings a few weeks before the wedding, which means I can wear pretty earrings on my wedding day, should I so desire. I had previously taken pride in my "swimming against the stream" by never having pierced my ears, which was my main motivating factor in waiting this long, honestly. It wasn't conviction that it's wrong... I just liked being different from everyone else. But finally I realized that it was stupid pride holding me back from something that I actually wanted, so I threw it to the wayside and went for it while I still had the courage.

Didn't hurt. I mean, it did, but no more than a pinch on the arm would, and for about the same duration. I've endured far worse on a middling to bad day with my achy joints.

The second decision, well... I can't really talk about it. Some things must remain a secret, and this is a private matter between C and I. Let's just say I finally came to some clear conclusions about something I'd been in denial about but has been brought to my attention lately, and I decided to be true to myself and at least try out this decision to see if it's right for me and for C.

My goal for this year is to be a truly authentic person, and these decisions that I'm making, while seemingly small and trivial, all add up to the large decision to not be a faker anymore, and to not make decisions for myself out of a fear of what others will think of me for making that particular decision... or out of a fear that people will try to persuade me around to their viewpoint because they disagree with my decision. I've accepted that it's pretty much going to happen, and I need to maintain healthy boundaries to deal with that issue, rather than going about it the way that I had been, which is to make decisions based on my perceptions of other's demands and desires and expectations.

If my hypothesis is correct, then being a truly authentic person will not result in a selfish "I don't care what you think, I'll do what I want!" attitude, mindset, or way of living. My hypothesis is that when one is truly free to be oneself, then one passes that gift on to others and becomes a liberator, rather than an oppressor. I hope to become a better person who does more good and brings more light into the lives of those around her because she is freed from the shackles of expectations. That's my goal, my wish, and my dream for this year. Authenticity, and freedom.

So I made a couple of decisions that I hadn't previously thought that I would, all in the name of authenticity. (Kinda hard, especially when I know many people that would vehemently disagree with both decisions! And understandably so-- I was there at one point myself.)

So... am I better person yet? lol

What an odd sort of week. Good, to be sure... but odd.

I had my second counseling appointment today. It went well, and already she says she can see positive things happening.

We talked a lot about “breaking the cycle” that I go through with depression and stress. Apparently, I’ve already identified my own cycle (true), and I was able to describe how I broke out of it.

Having a sounding board is so helpful to me. She picks up on what I say, reflects it back, and I have to stop and think, “Oh, yeah. I said that, huh?”

Also, HUGE validation from H (the counselor)! We were talking about guilt and self-talk and expectations and all that. As she summarized my life currently, she said, “You have a lot on your plate. You’re very busy.”

I cannot tell you how validating, how good it felt to hear her say that. Weird, I know. But I guess it’s that constant background tape of “Well, you’re not really that busy. You’re not doing that much. Other people do this much and more. You could be doing more. You should be doing more. You’re really not that busy. Don’t get too impressed with yourself-- this is nothing.” To hear someone else say, “Wow, you are really busy,” kind of gives me permission to step back and say, “You know what? Yes. Yes, I am. And I am not going to be ashamed or guilty of the fact that I think my plate is full.” (That’s a tendency of mine, of course. Boundary setting related, I think. Who am I to say that my plate is full? Um, hello, only the one who has to live with all these crazy decisions!! lol)

If my friend told me, “I’m going to school full time, working part time, doing odd jobs on the side, volunteering, and planning a wedding,” I would tell her, “Dude. You’re doing a ton. You’re my hero. Seriously, though, knock it off. You’re going to kill yourself.” (Much like how I feel when I talk to a certain Miss KW... lol) Yeah. My tendency is to over-fill my plate, which leads to collapse, then horrible, horrible guilt for now doing nothing and for collapsing in the first place. To compensate for the horrible guilt (or maybe to appease it and give it what it wants so it’ll stop gnawing at me?), I then load my plate over-full again, which leads to collapse, and then... Gah. Somebody shoot me.

So it was... there were.. lessons. I guess.

Those few weeks of bliss, of balance, have given me hope that I can actually live like that. And I got away from it. I don’t feel like a failure, because all I did was drift back to my normal, comfortable, familiar ways of dealing with life and myself. These new behaviors will take time and practice to learn, and that’s okay and totally normal. I need to be realistic and kind about this.

So! Here’s my toolbox, my Control Panel for adjusting the knobs and buttons of my inner brain workings. First of all, I need to learn how to relax. I need to intentionally set time aside for reward and rejuvenation. (Especially with the adrenal burnout. I’m getting that message loud and clear from my science class, as we’re going over the endocrine system right now. The way to heal adrenal fatigue is lots and lots of rest, and that’s the opposite of what I do with myself!!)

Here is how I am going to be intentional with myself and my thoughts for this coming week (and the weeks beyond, but let’s just take it one step at a time, shall we?).

• Self-validation for work/accomplishment

Part of what I was doing for myself those good weeks was taking time to praise myself and acknowledge what I’d done throughout the day. Rather than impatiently demanding more from myself, I stepped back, looked at the day, and said, “Hey, you’ve really done a lot today C. And you’ve done it well. Good job! So, what fun thing would you like to do as a reward?” That was great! But, well... life crowded it out. It wasn’t a priority. And it needs to be..

• Control-- I have the choice.

Most of my life, I have felt and/or actually been powerless. Life, my circumstances, Providence, etc. It all ran me. I didn’t really choose, I waited around to see what I should do, what I was supposed to do, “what is God/my parents/my godly friends/Ellen White telling me to do?”, etc. Part of what’s been so liberating for me is taking back my freedom to choose, and the responsibility that comes with it. This last week, when I was getting all wound up and stressed about the upcoming trip to Yosemite and the preparations necessary and my homework and work and what have you, I texted BJ and told her that I may not go. She wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea, but just knowing that I could choose whether to go or not and it would all be okay regardless (even if she was disappointed, she’s a big girl and can take responsibility for her own feelings-- I do not have to do that for her!) was the relief I needed to be able to handle what was left to be done. And that’s what got me through the weekend during the most trying times; knowing that I had chosen to be there. This really goes along with, and is a part of, setting boundaries. (Which we all know is something that I’ve been working on.)

• Prioritize-- let it go.

This is something that started percolating in my head with the last counselor. Making lists of all that needs to be done, breaking it up into realistic segments, and learning not to freak out if something doesn’t get done that day. No problem. Just move it to tomorrow. It’s okay. I need to do this with my life, both big picture and nitty gritty. This actually... may change a few things right now. We discussed how when I try to deal with the past abuse, I basically morph into this person that can’t function at all, and I hate it. But my personality is that “get it over and done with” type, and I know that I “have issues” (as we’ve come to call it lol), and I want to get those straightened out! Especially with my health and all... I mean, I know they’re related. As I heal emotionally, I heal physically. Which is why it’s such a novel concept for me to look at my life, evaluate it, realize that I have a full plate (yay!), and... decide to maybe put intensive healing on the back burner for a while. It’s like, now that I’ve added in wedding planning, I have to take something else out to keep the equilibrium.

It feels weird, though... like I’m giving up? But I know I’m not. I think part of taking care of yourself is recognizing when you need to step back for a while. Even the book on abuse I’m reading now says that. I just totally didn’t think it would apply to me! (I distinctly remember thinking, “Oh, yeah. Right. Like I’ll ever do that...”)

• Identify overwhelming triggers

Goes with the above. Take stock, focus, and re-work things so they aren’t overwhelming.

• Logical, patient self-talk (vs. impatient, illogical)

I’m seeing that I’m basically learning to take care of the child within me, the one that was never nurtured. I need to treat myself as I would a child-- kindness, patience, acknowledgement of achievements (no matter how small!), appropriate expectations, fun :D, encouraging development of personality, etc. Logical, patient self-talk will have much to do with this. Especially the patient part. I must be patient with myself. This will definitely be a new one.

I bet the impatience comes from having to grow up so fast. I needed to have arrived already, all the time. I never got the chance to learn at an appropriate pace. I had to be a mother, a daughter, a sister, a housekeeper, a babysitter, a lover (?!), a good student, a kid, a confidante, a friend, a keeper of family secrets... all at the same time. All way too young. Seven? Eight? Nine? Poor kid. Poor little me. I will never, ever do that to my children.

• Meditation

Yeah, I know it’s weird. But this has come up so many times the last week or two, it’s thoroughly ridiculous. From all different sources. It’s like, “God, are you trying to tell me something?” And I know the SDA’s reading this are thoroughly alarmed. A trap of the devil! Runnnnnnn!

Erm, yes. I suppose. I’m kind of over the whole “ruse of Satan” thing, though, because it was applied to pretty much everything for so long that it’s lost its effectiveness. (Cheese! It’s of the devil! lol) I mean, if he’s gonna get me, he’s gonna get me. That’s deception, right? That’s what always puzzled me... “The devil is trying to deceive you! Beware! Be alert!” Yeah, but, if it’s a deception... then you can’t see it. Thus the very nature of the thing. So what’s the point in being all worked up all the time over everything? My philosophy is that you do the best you can and trust (hope?) that God is really what he claims.

I think I’ve become firmly entrenched in my wariness/general dislike for organized religion. Hmm. Who woulda thought I’d end up here? The happy Bible worker? (Puh-leeze!)

So! Back to meditation. Um, I don’t know. It’s like when I went back to eating meat. I’m half afraid that I’m wrong and I’ll get zapped or thrown into Hades or possessed by demons or something. On the other hand... really?! I read a study earlier today about how regular meditation has been objectively and consistently proven to markedly decrease anxiety, depression, stress, and perfectionism. (The answer that leaps to mind is that the devil is oppressing people with these problems and then when they do what he wants--meditation-- he relieves the affliction to hook them. Right? Right? Do I get a gold star?) Data. Hard data. What am I supposed to do with that? And those are the very things that I’m trying to learn to cope with.

The other day on a walk, I was talking to God and asking him why it was that the very things that are hallmarks of Christianity are the things that I’m finding great freedom and joy in bucking? Relinquishing control/surrendering my life. Well, actually, now that I’m taking control of my own life, my mental and emotional distress have eased considerably. (Yeah, it almost seems like my spontaneous depression has abated entirely! Coincidence??) Constantly striving for perfection of character. You know, accepting myself as I am, accepting that I am good enough, flaws and all... that’s really been a huge doorway for me. Hard, but huge. And contrary to what I’d been fed. Today, I was able to tell myself that I loved me, and that I was going to take care of me to the best of my ability. You never would have heard those words from me when I was going to church. Self-denial. Hmm. I feel giddy even saying this, but deciding to put myself first and take care of myself first and do what I need to do for me to be okay in whatever situation I’m in... has been so... I dunno. Healthy. Joyful. Balancing. Freeing. Empowering. I will be damned before I go back to the way I was living at SOULS.

I dunno. It’s just so hard for me to reconcile all this with what I’ve been taught. I mean, what do you do when your experience flies in the face of your church’s teachings? Of course, that would automatically mean that you’re wrong, I suppose, but... I just can’t accept that.

So anyway (not to digress at all), all those little things that I was doing during my weeks of bliss are good, healthy behaviors that I need to practice and replace my old ways with.

Easier said than done. :)

Oh, yes, did I also mention that I'm engaged now? I mean like, officially officially. As in, he got down on his knees and all that :)

I believe a backstory is called for, yes?

This morning as I was getting ready for school, I went to go put my ring on. Much to my shock, surprise, and dismay... the little white box wasn't where it usually was. Figuring C must have moved it somewhere, I made a mental note to ask him about it later and grabbed my celtic medallion instead.

I was doing work/homework when C got home tonight, but I put it aside and followed him into the bedroom for some quality time/conversation, as I usually do. Amidst playful banter and stories about my professor, I asked him what he had done with my ring. Of course, he pretended to not know what ring I was talking about, or what I was talking about at all! Naturally, I plied him with questions as to why in the world would he hide my ring?!

So, here's the set of the scene-- he's gotten up from the bed where we were nestled cozily and swung himself into his big computer chair, and I'm sprawled across the covers facing him. He won't tell me where it is ("I guess you'll just have to find it!"), but he does crack a few jokes about thinking about being super devious and switching out the ring in the box for a different, older ring (one that doesn't even fit anymore!), about hiding it partially to see how nuts I would go looking for it. He didn't make it hard to find, though. As he swiveled around in his chair, it was plain to see that the little white box was sitting on top of the low bookshelf behind him, blending in with the white wall behind and the white alarm clock next to it.

"I found it!" (In my defense, it was dark in the room this morning. And I had to hit the door or I would be late. No time for a hunt.)

He picked up the little white box, opened the lid, and spent a few moments in quiet contemplation. Then he looked up at me, a funny expression on his face. I couldn't stop the excitement from rising within me as he slid to his knees, stating that he wanted to make it official. He pulled the ring from the box, took my hand, and as he slid the ring on my finger (after I showed him the right hand to put it on lol) said, "I do want to marry you. I love you." He was gazing into my eyes with this super melty, super lovingly intense look.

I replied, "I want to marry you too. I love you."

It's all kind of a blur, really. That's as specific as I can make it, and I'm not even sure I got the right phrases in the right places or the precise sequence of events. It doesn't really matter, I think. I just want to remember the sweetness of the moment, the silly grin on his face and how he was practically giggling at the fact that we're engaged! I was totally silly, too, grinning like a fool and kicking my heels.

Me: Wait, so... you really just proposed to me?
C: I assume so. I'm pretty sure that's what that was.
Me: Squeeeeee! *huge grin*
C: *goofy grin*

C: Now you can show off to all your friends.
Me: ... You know me too well.

C: I'm glad you're back.
Me: Me too.

So why'd he hide my ring? Because he wanted to give it back to me before I "stole" it again! Hah!

He was planning on taking me out to our special lake, "stealing" his dad's boat, and having the guys disguised in the boat with signs. As they went past, he would point the boat out to me, and the guys would be holding signs that said, "MARRY HIM!!!" However, I was out of town this last weekend, and he just couldn't wait, so he did it tonight.

You know what? I'm not disappointed. Not at all. It was so... us. So him. So sweet and simple and just a genuine outpouring of love.

He said that he was waiting until I stopped expecting it. As we all know, that only happened like, a week ago! Hence the "delay".

*Sigh*

I have found the one whom my soul loves. And I guess he liked it 'cause he put a ring on it.

Squeeeeee!

I've been thinking about my life lately.

Questioning, more like.

I just finished up the book "The Dirty Life: On Farming, Food, and Love", which was exceptional. I found myself, however, incredibly baffled and bemused as to why the author, someone so like me, would choose to settle down with someone so infuriatingly crazy as this Mark fellow.

To be fair, she does have misgivings--many, many misgivings. But she ultimately decides that the man she loves and the life he offers her is worth the sacrifice of giving up a part of herself and the goals and ideas she once held.

Here's a few interesting excerpts:

"Mark joked that I was going to Hawaii for my solo honeymoon, but it was a hollow joke. I think we both knew there was a real possibility that I wasn't coming back. I imagined my friends would sigh, say it was just like me, that they'd expected it all along; my parents would roll their eyes and forgive me for putting them through all that drama, and debate the proper thing to do with the wedding gifts.

At the center of my attachment to travel had always been the belief that indeed there is such a thing as escape. You can change everything with one slim ticket. The last time I'd been in the Maui airport, I'd been a girl, twenty years old, and as I walked toward my luggage, I wondered if I would find my free, young self waiting for me there among the airport greeters with their leis, or if I'd murdered her by getting married to a farmer and a farm. I supposed I would find out. Travel tends to grant clarity. Remove all that distracting context and you find yourself staring at cold hunks of truth."

"Watching that guy's collard flutter into his basket was the moment I got married, in my heart. There is no such thing as escape after all, only an exchange of one set of difficulties for another. It wasn't Mark or the farm or the marriage that I was trying to shake loose from but my own imperfect self, and even if I kept moving, she would dog me all the way around the world, forever."

As I said, she is so much like me. And this, too, seems to be the conclusion that I am evolving towards.

"It's never the way you think it'll be, Mark used to tell me. Not as perfect as you hope or as scary as you fear."

I've been having those panicky second thoughts lately.

You see, the euphoric feelings have dimmed, and I am left with the mundane, the every day... the more or less steady, predictable rhythm of responsibilities and the flow of those around me.

I have a hard time with mundane.

There's been quite a bit of drama in the HJ lately, a large portion of it traceable to an individual who, apparently, can't quite thrive without drama of some sort... even if she has to create it.

Now, I'm not one to create drama, but it's easy to sniff disdainfully at someone's handicap until you realize it's your own.

I've come to realize that I'm rather at a loss when not desperately pressed in circumstance. Or, at the very least, depressed. The sheer euphoria of positive feelings, of resolution, so close on the heels of misery, pain, and strain is addicting, to say the least. It's like picking a fight just to make up.

At first I thought this was an inherent flaw, but I realize now that it is a logical outflow of my upbringing. The domestic violence cycle, or even just the dysfunction cycle, goes like this:

The abuse is awful, to be sure, but the reconciliation and the honeymoon phase stand in such sharp relief that it's... well, it's like a drug. And it's hope. Hope that things will get better, that the bad won't come again. I go through this same up and down dance with my depression.

The kicker is that, should the hoped for peace come to pass... you've now become so accustomed to the cycle that you don't know how to live with that peace. At least, I don't. I'm always waiting for the axe to fall, craving it, even. (Could possibly be a part of PTSD, as well...)

And C is so steady, so... steady. I don't know how to handle it. The life he offers me... so... steady. It's obsessively, compulsively compelling at times, yet uneasily repellent at other times. I'm the one that goes up and down, back and forth. He hasn't wavered in his intentions at all.

(P.S.- That cycle totally describes the home front, with R and the kids and Mom... sigh. I was party to that just last Christmas.)

But when I'm wavering, I remember that he is good for me and I am good for him. I have a freedom with him that I have not had with any other relationship. He lifts me up, I lift him up. And, importantly for me, he puts up with all my crazy, and holds me through it. I've been revealing more and more facets of who I truly am to him of late, and he's still implacably by my side. Go figure.

Am I really just frightened of having someone who won't walk away, or give in to drama?

You know, I'd really like to learn how to live in the mundane and be at peace with it. I find myself in an arena of choice... is it worth it, this man that I love and the steady, stable life that he's offering me?

There is a pulsating sadness within me, a great, walloping heaviness that I can't define...

I feel so inexorably lonely... so adrift upon the sea of my own consciousness...

I almost cried when C left for work, but kept myself.

I'd be tempted to crawl under the covers and take the beating that this inexplicable dejection brings...

...but last night at the boy's group, we talked about feelings, and how we can choose not to dwell on the negative, but choose the positive. One of the boys likened it to having a big plate of food, half of it negative and half of it positive. If you eat all the negative stuff and leave the positive on the plate, how do you think you're going to feel? Sick! But if you eat the positive stuff and leave the negative stuff on the plate, you'll feel a whole lot better. The negative stuff is still there, but you're not feeding on it.

It is tempting to feed upon sadness, I'll admit.

However, today, I say, "Screw you, feelings. I am going to continue with my day as planned, even if I do feel down."

Feelings aren't right or wrong, they just are. I just am sad. And that's okay. But I'm not going to indulge it, not today. (Perhaps another day when I'm not quite as strong?)

So I'm going to put on my big girl panties, brush my teeth, and get on with the business of moving in and cleaning.

If I carry this throbbing melancholy with me all day, well, then, so be it. (It can't be as bad as the headaches.)

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"?)

I've had a few interesting, philosophical-like contributions to my thought process so far today. (I would say "this morning", because it is morning for me-- I've taken to staying up with C and waking up when he does for work--but, it's... not. It's 2:30 p.m. What a slacker! lol)

I was talking to Mom about how I'm afraid of making a decision because it seems like this past year, fully half or more of my decisions have lead to pretty awful situations for me. Summer camp was something I prayed about and thought about like crazy, and it ended up being a veritable hell. However, the drive out to WI was a great decision. Choosing to come to Y was a good decision, also, I think. However, working at the herb store was significantly less enjoyable than I had anticipated. (But I DID appreciate the income.)

Mom pointed out, however, that working at camp may not have been a bad thing. I did find out rather quickly that I can't work around foods I'm allergic to, and if I had not known that, I might be taking a food-service job now and slowly poisoning myself, wondering why I'm always so sick. Now, it would be my livelihood. Then, it was just summer camp--not a big deal if I left. (Well, I don't think she knows that camp was supposed to be my livelihood! lol) She says that she's found that sometimes the most awful things come around full circle and keep us from experiencing something drawn out and/or even more terrible. I agree with that. ("So," I said, "it's almost like there are no mistakes." "Exactly!" she agreed. "There's even a verse in Romans that points that out.")

Talking to C about the decision I have to make within the next few days, I told him I was stressing because I don't want to make the wrong choice. He looked at me with amused amazement and asserted boldly, "What wrong choice? There is no wrong choice."

"Yes, there is," I insisted. "Either way, the course of my life is going to be changed significantly. Your life is supposed to take a certain path, and you have to make the choices that will keep you on that path."

"No. Life isn't supposed to be anything. It's what you make it. There is no wrong choice, there is simply a choice."

Oh.

I think they have a point.

I mean, philosophically or theologically or whatever, it may not be totally refined and correct. But the base theory is almost revolutionary to me. I'm always so concerned with whether I'm doing the "right thing" or not, making the "right choice" so that I will be the "right person". (I thought I was trying to buck that?!)

What if the two choices are not "right or wrong", but equally right? What if it simply comes down to... which path do I want to take?

It seems the doors to Option 2 have suddenly flung wide, while Option 1 quietly wilts into itself, further estranged by the reassertion of my initial hesitance.

And the hesitance of one whose counsel I value very highly.

There are so many pros...

And the cons... well, the cons are my pride. And the thwarting of my desire for escape. And, of course, my hesitation to make the "wrong" choice.

Is that all?

Oh, yes. I'd have to deal with the presence of the boundary pushers, instead of quietly making my exit.

I guess I just have to think... is staying here and working with HJ and marrying C really what I want to do with my life? Because Option 2 will greatly facilitate that.

And Option 1... still leaves room for escape.

Ahhh. There it is. There it is.

It's less about which school am I going to, and more about having an "out".

This girl... the perennial escapist.

You need to think about this, and make sure it's what you really want, otherwise you'll start to chafe, and you'll panic, and you'll run. "Know thyself," they say. Well, I know myself, and that's what will happen.

Go. Run your errands. But think while you're running. Think about this.

Talk it over with C tonight. And Mom, when she calls back. Let them know, work it through. Pray about it some more.

And what do you do when your paths diverge?

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
{Robert Frost}

I've been getting the urge to pamper myself. Enough with the stress, already-- go do something fun!


And I might. (Except it costs money...)

But I've done a lot the past few days. So you know what I might do right now? Instead of telling myself that I "should" be doing even more?

I think I'm going to drive my happy little butt to Pier One to window shop... right after I get some coffee from the cafe next door. Because I can. (Okay, okay, so mb I'm going to get one of those Caramel Apple Spice thingies... but still!)

Orrrrr... maybe... I'll pick out a nailpolish that I really like and do my nails?

Hmm. Or maybe I'll grab a green tea and watch that movie I borrowed from L.

Or... maybe... I'll text E for that meeting we're supposed to have, drop off my library book while I'm out there, grab one of the three nailpolishes that I already have and restock on meds while I'm home... and go out to coffee with E so we can meet and do that at the same time! (Or maybe some boba?)

Hmm... but I still need onions. And possibly salad dressing.

Decisions, decisions.

Maybe I'll just sit here and pleasantly ruminate on the possibilities for some self-love, without ever actually taking action.

Because, really... when it boils down to it... I'm still doing all these things alone.

Where is my mommy when I need her?!

So I thought I was depression free. Why do I always think that?

Like, Yeah! These herbs are helping! I mean, I've been "down", but I'm not mired in the darkness like usual. I think I finally found "it"!


Meanwhile, my symptoms have been getting more and more pronounced as I continue on the downward slide... but no, if I deny it, it's not happening!

Think happy thoughts. Life is great, life is grand. I can handle this. I can do it. I. AM. NOT. DEPRESSED. ANYMORE.


It's still mild. Just pronounced fatigue and apathy, overwhelming lack of appetite and/or nausea. I mean... it's not darkness... but it's shadows. And I don't wanna go there anymore.

This is what these outrageously expensive natural remedies are supposed to help with!

I'm seriously, seriously getting to the point where I think that natural remedies only work if you "believe" in them... and even if you do, it's still spotty.  Yeah, you hear all these fantastic stories about natural stuff doing miracles for people, but it's always "someone else", isn't it? Just like accidents, or cancer, or really bad stuff always happens to "someone else", so does natural healing, I think.

Maybe I'm just immune. Wouldn't that be awful? Charcoal never worked for me. Wait, I take that back. It did help me throw up one time, I think. It was either the charcoal or the kombucha.

And hydrotherapy broke my bronchitis fever towards the end of SOULS. And hot water bottles really help my stomach when I'm hurting. And flushing my sinuses with salt water really, really helps when I've got a sinus infection going on.

So, yeah. I can't say that natural stuff doesn't entirely work, but I am becoming quite dubious and skeptical. Great words coming from the employee of an herb store, huh? ;)

I've been toying with the idea of going on that prescription antidepressant my doctor gave me... if nothing but to break the cycle. But the potential side effects are awful! I mean, do I really want to chance it? I start counseling in two weeks... surely I can just hang on until then...

But if I keep going down (and today was an indicator that I am, though I'm going to FIGHT it!), then my productivity as an employee and as a person is going to be seriously compromised...

Maybe I ought to just do it. For two weeks. See what happens.

Ugh. I don't know. I just don't know.

I wonder what Jesus would do. Seriously.

Then again... Jesus wasn't depressed all that often... and his depression was for a "purpose".

Hmm.

You know, I think about how Jesus understands everything that we go through (according to the book of Hebrews), and I understand that he was horribly, horribly depressed in the garden of Gethsemane, and when he was on the cross dying. (It's funny, because a few times I've been so depressed that I simply can't speak, and when I read that Jesus didn't really say anything during his trial, I thought to myself, It's 'cause he was so depressed! I understand that! I've totally been there.)

However, the thing is that, though he was so horrifically depressed... he got to die. I have to keep living, carrying on, and somehow function and be "normal". So I know he "gets it", but maybe not in its entirety.

God, what exactly am I supposed to do?

Last night was agony. Sheer, unmitigated agony. I finally fell asleep sometime after eleven... and my eyes are still puffy today.

Yet underlying the pain is a strength, a resolve that's never been there in my decision to leave C before. Why is this?

I've been thinking about it...

In the past, it was that I had to leave- "This is God's decision and I have to abide by it."

So, since it wasn't really my choice, it was all too easy to wander back again.

Now, I've made the decision for myself. This is my choice, for my best... and I can abide by that. I have the strength... as much as I miss him.

I still feel like I'll never love anyone again, but I know that can't be true, for I loved D.

It's hard. No bones about it. I'm in a great deal of pain.

But I'm also strong. I'm not desperate this time around.

I broke up with C today.

Yeah, yeah, we "weren't in a relationship", which is bologna.

It took a while, and the help of a dear friend to shatter my rose-colored haze of optimism, but I realize that... I don't belong in his world. It really hit home while I was hanging out with him and the guys playing D+D last night. We're worlds apart...

If we lived in a bubble, all would be well. We could love each other and be fine.

But we don't. And we can't.

I think my heart has imploded.

He played me this song this morning before I broke the news... said he listens to it when he has a hard time falling asleep sometimes.

It fits me now, too.