**WARNING: FRANK DISCUSSION OF SEX AND KINKS TO FOLLOW!**

There's a website called bdsmtest.org where you can go to take a detailed questionnaire and receive results that tell you what percentage of different kind of kinks and fetishes you are. I've taken the test a few times, because I like to keep coming back to it as I explore more and learn more about what I like. This time around, my results came back thusly:

== Results from http://bdsmtest.org/ == 

100% Experimentalist 

98% Bondage receiver 

95% Submissive 

95% Exhibitionist 

94% Degradation receiver 

89% Masochist 

86% Brat 

73% Voyeur 

71% Primal (Prey) 

70% girl/boy 

67% Slave 

67% Non-monogamist 

52% Bondage giver 

51% Ageplayer 

44% Pet 

39% Switch 

35% Master/Mistress 

34% Sadist 

30% Owner 

29% Primal (Hunter) 

27% Vanilla 

21% Brat tamer 

19% Dominant 

14% Degradation giver 

11% Daddy/Mommy 

11% All-Rounder 

See my results online at http://bdsmtest.org/result.php?id=517711

Apparently my number 1 trait is that I like to try everything out. Nice! I'd say the results are pretty well accurate. As you get down past 50%, though, I'm really not into most of that stuff at all. Then again, I haven't really tried much of it first-hand, so I may like it a lot a lot. Never can tell until you try it.

That's all I wanted to share. There's another fun thing I found somewhere, which is a "map" of the different types of kinks and fetishes with color coded pins that you can stick on there to indicate if you've tried a certain thing, want to try, never will try ever, etc. It's really fun. I'll have to poke around and find it again and put the link in here with the bdsmtest. Happy flogging, all!

I feel like I've been gone forever from the good ol' blog. It's only been 20 days, but that can be an eternity. I would explain everything that has gone down, but in the words of Inigo Montoya, "No, is too much. Let me sum up."

First of all, the appointment at the University was a rousing success! The doctor's bedside manner was professional but kind, and he was very thorough. I came away with several new diagnoses and a heart singing with vindication that it was not "just fibromyalgia" this whole time. I'm also dealing with Hypermobility Syndrome, Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease, and--get this-- Inflammatory Polyarthritis. Yep, that's right. I'm basically an arthritic old woman lol. So right now it's all still pretty vague. We don't have specifics as to what kind of arthritis or connective tissue disease I have, but they took, like, 10 vials of blood, I've gotten x-rays and ultrasounds of my hands, and I go back in February to learn more about what ails me. The Hypermobility makes sense, too. Even if it's not a part of EDS, it can be a thing unto itself and it still causes insane amounts of pain whether it's a standalone or part of the Syndrome. That's where my Intractable Pain comes from, and then I have the arthritic and connective disease pain exacerbating it. No wonder I'm in hell all of the time, why I require overly strong doses of pain medication to keep my body from crashing and burning and putting me in the hospital.

Let's see, what else? Ummm… yeah, I've pretty much spent a lot of this month in bed, sleeping. My friend took me to Tucson and we made a fun trip out of it, going to spend the night with another friend of mine in Sierra Vista, and that was cool. Mostly I've just been trying to survive, buying or making Christmas gifts where I could because I love love love giving people gifts.

Funny, it felt like I had so much stored up and ready to be poured out, but I guess that's my big news. I'm still having a hard time processing the implications of new diagnoses and such, and that's made it rough. In addition to that, Corey's youngest sister passed away a few weeks ago, and that's been really hard. The week that we were making arrangements was the most difficult of all, I think… and I've definitely been taking it harder than Corey. That's fairly normal though, I suppose, at least for us. He doesn't really go in for the whole "displays of emotion" thing, whereas I can't help it. We inherited her young snake (because her dad had no idea how to deal with a snake and didn't want to), and the first time we went to feed her it was a "pinkie", or a baby mouse that has no fur to speak of and hasn't opened its eyes yet. They're small, and we weren't sure how big of a mouse Lemon, the snake, could handle. I was very upset seeing the little guy being sacrificed like that-- it's always harder for me the younger they are-- and when Lemon attacked it wrong and tried to eat it while it was still alive (she's still young and not too good at this yet), I lost it and fled to the bedroom, sobbing. Corey came in a bit later and made sure I was alright, but truthfully he found it a bit amusing. He has some dark humor like that.

So it's kinda been a hell of a month. In addition to all of that, I had some not-very-good pain killers to try out this month, which is what led to the "surviving" part. The spending most of my time sleeping thing is, apparently, an automatic response to grief and excessive stress. However, Corey has been more affectionate and interested in our relationship. I think that the conversations we had made a difference for him, and I know that it got me thinking more deeply. I think the sudden loss has made him more attentive toward me as well, because he is sensitive toward my moods and making sure that I don't fall too far. I love that man, I really do.

Tomorrow is Christmas, and it'll be the first one in my life that I can recall not spending with my mom and siblings. Corey doesn't celebrate holidays, and I'm a bit of a grinch myself, but there are some things about certain holidays that I like and Christmas holds a few favorites. I like lights and Christmas trees and gifts and family. I wasn't able to make any of that happen this year, though, because I'm just too sick, exhausted, and whatever to put forth the effort. I will be having dinner with my grandparents tomorrow afternoon, so that's something. I'm pretty sure they have a gift for me, and I have something for them that I made, but they're really not putting effort into it either because all of the grandkids are gone or grown… kinda makes me sad. But my hopes are that by next Christmas I'll have the vigor to make some effort toward the things that I love, maybe even be able to travel again and see my folks. I really hope so. I hate living all the way across the country from them.

Today wasn't too bad, though. I got a massage, slept, ate cake, and watched How I Met Your Mother all wrapped up in my electric blanket on the couch. Not bad at all, I'd say, though much different than I've spent my Christmas Eve's in the past. I'm hoping to "make" Corey take me out to see some of the impressive Christmas lights tonight after he gets home from work. That'd be neat.

I'll admit it-- sometimes I get really angry at how "easy" other people have it in their lives. I mean, yeah, okay, everyone has their stress and troubles and hard times but some people just seem to have a charmed life, you know? Yes, my incredibly troubled and grueling life is definitely the source of some good points, such as the personal strength, insight, and empathy that I have honed, but sometimes it'd be nice to just have it kinda easy for a while you know? And it hasn't been. My whole life, without exaggeration, has been one fight or another for sustenance, sanity, survival… what's up with that?

And then, just when everything was finally going my way… my health tanks. I was so happy. I was in school, pursuing my dream career, I was planning my wedding, working hard for a cause that I loved with a boss that adored me, I'd paid off my school debt, made huge headway in counseling… I had it made, man. I was good. Things were looking up. But then, then, everything fell apart around me and life is harder than it's ever been. Maybe. Life was really hard during the decade plus of abuse too, though. It's hard to say.

It's just not fair, man. And it pisses me off.

However…

There is good news. I have finally found a doctor that is both willing and able to help me with my pain! I'm diagnosed with "intractable pain" which, according to Wikipedia, is "a severe, constant pain that is not curable by any known means and which causes a bed or house-bound state and early death if not adequately treated, usually with opioids and/or interventional procedures. It is not relieved by ordinary medical, surgical, nursing, or pharmaceutical measures. Unlike the more common chronic pain, it causes adverse biologic affects on the body's cardiovascular, hormone, and neurologic systems." (emphasis mine) Doctors kept getting hung up on "fibromyalgia" and "chronic pain", missing the bigger picture of my pain, but this doctor gets it, and he wants to help me very much. I could cry. It was seriously everything that I had hoped for.

This is the dr's website, Dr. Porcelli. I have to drive 4 hours to get there, but to get my life back? SO worth it.

I was incredibly nervous, because I was afraid that I was just going to get shut down again and I have nowhere else to turn for help but the emergency room, and that is horrendously expensive. (Seriously… I have no idea how I'm going to pay all of the ER bills. *sigh*) He was very cheerful, funny, and engaging right from the get-go, though, and we chatted and joked back and forth the whole time. He looked at my chart and symptom list and was immediately like, "Yes, you definitely suffer from intractable pain! You've got one foot in the grave, huh? Just one banana peel away from packing it in!" (I thought that was funny. This was after he saw the "draw these shapes on this outline of a body to describe what kind of pain you have and where" chart that I filled out. It was pretty well covered in scribbles.) He thinks that with proper pain management I can actually go back to work part time in the future! Also, after a physical examination he discovered that my eyes have been damaged some from the pain, but they will heal when my body calms down.

The plan is to do a long acting opioid with a lower dose one for breakthrough pain. The ones he gave me this month aren't working very well and I'm still spending about 5 or 6 hours a day soaking in the tub, but we can address that at my next appointment. I'm working on getting physical therapy started, trying to do regular massages, and I'm also starting a few supplements (vitamin C, sublingual b12, omega 3 fatty acid, etc.) to boost my general health. I really want to start eating healthier again now that I'm more capable, but really, I'm basically just happy to have meds at all and to know that things are only going to get better from here! I mean, today my friend the Artist came over and helped me clean the house, and I was able to do quite a bit! The house is so tidy now. Ahhhh… we got to things that I've been wanting done for months, or at the very least since I got out of the hospital. It feels good to see my home in order again.

Also, I applied for disability this past Monday, and it was actually a really fun experience thanks to the lady who did my interview. I should get word in about 3 to 6 months, and she says that it's about a 50-50 chance as to whether I'm approved or denied. We'll see. I'm definitely going to appeal if I'm denied, no worries about that.

Oh, and I'm going to make an appointment with a geneticist this next week. Still pursuing further diagnosis, especially since Dr. Porcelli agreed adamantly that while fibro is part of my problem, it is definitely not the entire issue that is causing me to be so sick and in so much pain. So… we shall see. I've got my money on hEDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, hypermobility type). I fit the criteria so, so, so well, and a large majority of EDSers are either misdiagnosed or not diagnosed at all. The most common misdiagnosis is fibromyalgia, from what I understand.

I'm learning to live with this broken body, even as I try to figure out in what ways exactly it's broken, but it's not easy. I'm pretty resentful at times, especially when I can't get the help or answers I need or when I see my peers traipsing around and fulfilling dreams and stuff that I wanted to do and cannot join in on and will possibly never recover enough to achieve.

Like pregnancy. Due to the nature of my pain, I will probably be on strong pain medication for the rest of my life. That's just a fact of my life. (Ugh, my poor organs…) The implications of that, however, mean that I would have to stop my pain meds (and a couple others) in order to carry a baby, and that's not something that is feasible for me at all. Remember how I ended up in the hospital and ER a ton last month? Yeah. Just like that. And do you think that the stress of being so sick and in so much pain would be good for a developing fetus at all? Not a chance. Either way, my baby is at a distinct disadvantage while residing in my womb.

I'm never going to be able to carry a baby of my own, and that grieves me something awful.

People don't understand. I've shared with a couple of friends, and with Drogo, but the response I get is "Don't worry, you can adopt! There are other options. Have you thought of surrogacy?"

You guys. That's not the point, not the point at ALL! I know I can adopt or do a surrogate pregnancy. Creating offspring is not the issue here, the issue is that I am never going to be able to carry a baby or give birth, and that's something I've wanted for a long, long time. It's just another precious dream ripped callously from my heart and tossed carelessly on the midden. I don't care if I can adopt; I care that the vaunted experience of childbearing, one that I've already had bitter experiences with, is now beyond my grasp, through no fault of my own, and there's nothing I can do about it.

But folks don't seem to catch that, even after I explain, so… I just let it go. Whatever. Who cares if Cassie's world and future is shrinking and dulling, hope and happiness sloughing off like dried up scabs?

For my 1000th post, I thought I'd do a little something different, something fun. Here's a cool "about you" questionnaire that I got from another friend's blog. It intrigued me, so I thought I'd bring it on over to the dark depths of my lair.

1) If you could change something about yourself, what would it be and why?
I suppose the obvious answer would be that I would change my health-- I'd wipe away all the chronic illnesses and give myself a clean bill of health. I wouldn't remove it from my past; I've learned far too much from my illnesses to want to lose that. I would remove it from my present, though, because I have so much potential for making the world a better place that is going unrealized due to my limitations and it is incredibly frustrating. Also, I really really really miss backpacking and traveling. And do you know how nice it would be to go out for Mediterranean food again?!

2) What’s the farthest you’ve been from home?

Honduras, definitely. Although I supposed you'd have to define "home", since I've lived all over… Still, no matter where I've lived, Central America is the furthest I've been from anywhere in the States!

3) What is your motto? 
If you have a pulse, you have a purpose.

4) What are your hobbies?
These days? Pinterest. Hah. Reading is a big one, as is writing, though I don't do that one as much anymore since it takes so much energy. I'm an avid movie watcher now, too, and I continue to be an artist. I used to hike, work, backpack, travel, cook, clean… all kinds of things. That's a bit curtailed now, but I still enjoy myself. Oh, and sex. Does sex count as a hobby? 'Cause it'd totally be my favorite.

5) What is your favorite ice cream flavor?
My lifelong favorite flavor has been Pecan Praline, but I'm almost equally as passionate about Pistachio.

6) What two things could you not do when you were a child, but you can do now?

Um, well, drive. That's one obvious one. Another thing is write in cursive. In fact, I have a difficult time writing in print anymore-- my default is cursive. I blame that on my school. From fifth grade on, students were only allowed to use pen and were only allowed to write in cursive. Why? To make us more careful, I guess, and encourage better penmanship. I dunno.

7) If you could travel anywhere in the world – where would you go and why?
Ireland, Italy, and Scotland. Ireland and Scotland because they are in my ancestry and I have a fascination with the long and bloody history of the land and the people, not to mention that the land itself is utterly stunning. (To that end, I'd love to visit England, too!) Italy, because of the history of the Renaissance there-- the art, the science.. the FOOD! I want to see the museums and the buildings, and Drogo was raised there for a time.

8) Have you ever met a famous person?
Yeah, a couple. They're just people that a lot of other people know exist is all.

9) What is your least favorite thing about yourself?
Definitely my self-consciousness.  I dislike being so affected by what others think of me, despite my best efforts.

10) One word that describes you?
Quirky.

11) If you were a crayon, what color would you be and why?
Metallic teal, because that's what color I've been on the inside since I was a child. That, slashed with streaks of razzleberry.

12) What is the weather like right now where you are?
Shifting clouds through a blue sky, patchy bright sunlight, kinda windy, but still pleasantly warm though on the cooler side.

13) How tall are you?
5'6. Depending on the the scale, sometimes a half inch gets added, but I just call it even.

14) When you were little – what did you want to be “when you grew up?”
Several things. A marine biologist, passionately; an apothecary (I had a little cupboard with small jam jars I had washed out and kept dried used tea herbs in that I would mix together to make concoctions and "cures"); an opera singer; a ballerina; an author/poet… probably more, but those are the ones that I can remember most vividly.

15) Toilet paper. Roll with paper coming off the top or the bottom?
Used to be an off the bottom girl, but Drogo is rabidly insistent about it coming off the top so I've adapted.

16) Favorite sport you like to watch or participate in?
Not a sports girl anymore, but I was big into soccer as a kid. I was an excellent goalie

17) What kind of food do you prefer eating when you are out?
Sushi. It's about all I can eat these days, out and about, although now that I've added gluten back into my diet I'm able to eat more. I had chicken alfredo at Olive Garden the other night for our anniversary dinner! It was so good.

18) Last movie you watched?
Black Death, last night. I'm right at the end of Save The Last Dance as I type this.

19) Would you like to be famous?
Nope. I don't need that kind of pressure or stress. I struggle enough with people's expectations as it is.

20) What book are you reading?
Hah! Which one? I finished Eragon last night, so I'm working through Eldest today. I'm on book 6 of the Wheel of Time series, I'm also going through Frankenstein again, and I feel like there are some others that I've forgotten or set aside that I can't recall at the moment.

21) If you have $5 million to spend in 5 days, but with the clause you could not spend any of it on yourself or your family, what would you do with it?
Well shoot… I dunno! That's tough. If I couldn't spend it on myself I'd automatically want to spend it on my family, but I would donate to my favorite charities as well as send money to my friends with chronic illnesses to help allay their medical costs. (For instance, see this short little post on the monthly cost of chronic illness by Chronic Mom.)

22) If you knew that you could try any kind of work/employment and that you would not fail, what would you attempt doing?
Advocacy of some sort, I'm sure. Or massage therapy combined with abuse recovery and advocacy. I'm always afraid of damaging people more than helping them, but if I knew I couldn't fail? Heck yeah. I'd be all over that. Definitely a helping profession of some sort.

Well, I got the call last week (I think it was?) about the blood tests that the new rheum had run. As he said, he is more than willing to look into the autoimmune side of things, though he seems to feel that my troubles are caused solely by fibromyalgia. I do not accept this. It's pretty plain that I do not accept this, and several of my other doctors agree with me. 

Good grief, I wish there were a way to get them all under one roof so they could put their heads together and share all of the opinions and knowledge about my body and its workings or lack thereof… I get so tired trying to coordinate all the appointments and rides and tests and information sharing. It's hard enough for me to just make it through the day without trying to overdose on something, anything to make the pain go away just a little bit. How am I supposed to expend all this energy trying to figure out how to get my doctors to figure out how to get me better when I'm losing energy by the week, the day, the hour? I don't have much left in me for this, and it's a bitter irony that the increasingly sick person must put forth increasingly greater amounts of effort to receive care the sicker they get. I need a caretaker, for reals. Or at least a secretary. I could wish that C took more of an interest in my health affairs… doing research, knowing my meds and what they're for and how often to take them… or even just their names? It's all left up to me and it doesn't seem fair because he's relatively healthy and I'm not and I just really don't have it in me anymore, guys. I mean, this post alone… it's taken me days to scrape together the mental energy to even type this up. I feel very alone with my sickness very often, but I don't feel that it's fair to complain or even ask more of C, because I am already such a burden. He is such a support for me, so taking care of my own medical stuff is the least I can do, right? Plus there is the whole "hanging on to the last vestiges of my independence as a human being and/or adult" thing. Did you know that, not only do I not drive unless I absolutely have to (it takes a ton of energy, it's usually painful, and I could have a twitching attack/go faint at any time and I don't feel that it's very safe for me to be driving), but it is difficult for me to get the walker in and out of my car by myself? Didn't used to be that hard. Now that I need it more than ever for getting around, it is more difficult for me to access it by myself. This seems to be an increasingly familiar theme in my life, and I absolutely hate it.

Aaaaaanyway, this wasn't supposed to be a rant about my feels regarding my sickness, it was supposed to expound upon my theory that I'm pursuing. Right, so, here's the theory.

The blood tests showed no lupus activity, which is good, but that also means that another potential answer has been crossed off the list. MS and lupus, both of which seemed good fits as explanations for my symptoms, are out. So what is making me so sick, aggravating the fibromyalgia symptoms? There's got to be something. I just keep worsening, and every time I do I'm sure there's no further rock bottom to hit… but I'm always wrong. My mother is understandably quite concerned. While I was back home visiting for Christmas ("back home", as though I've ever actually lived there LOL. But home is where the heart is, and my heart is with my family, so I guess it works.), she told me that she was afraid this was the last time she was going to see me. Not that I'm going to drop dead within the year, mind you, but my physical health has deteriorated so far that traveling is very difficult for me, even just road trips to the big city to see my doctors. It takes a heavy toll, and traveling across the country with all the planes and the sitting and the walking through terminals and… it's all just really hard. Really, really hard. So unless something changes, I probably won't be able to go out there to visit again, and she doesn't have the funds to come out here. Sucks, but that's reality.

She was very taken aback by my physical appearance as well. Several times she made the comment that I looked like a cancer patient. I was pale, weak, dark circles all around my eyes (not just underneath), my face is puffy… I just don't look healthy, despite what people and doctors say. I don't. I may "look good" in that I'm not gaunt faced and jaundiced, but I don't look healthy. I just don't look like I'm dying. On the phone with Mom last week, she told me that yes, I do look sick, and she's right. She is also worried that I have cancer. I know, I know… it sounds like we've been spending too much time with the WebMD symptom checker, right? Well, honestly… (and this is hard for me to admit) cancer is something I've been worried about too. I mean, I saw David wither away, and that was devastating. The Chemo Princess passed away just last week, but she didn't look like he did… at least, not in any of the pictures that I saw. I've had MRIs and CAT scans within the past 6 months, and none of those showed any tumors or anything, but as my symptoms keep evolving it has been concerning me more and more. Burning bones? Really? I mean, what the heck is responsible for that? Because it's not just a minor annoyance but a genuinely distressing, excruciating experience that genuinely concerns me. Stuff like that shouldn't be happening to your body. I may have fibro, but not everything that I experience can or should be chalked up to that. I believe the body will give you warning signs that you can interpret if you are paying attention, and I really believe that my body is throwing up neon signs, asking to be evaluated and considered beyond the scope of "just fibromyalgia".

So I started doing a little research, and I came across this little gem of a website explaining Cushing syndrome. I was curious about how my symptoms may be related to my adrenal insufficiency, since we've got the thyroid probs under control, and when I read about adrenal tumors and Cushing syndrome (not Cushing's Disease itself, mind you; that's something different.) I felt some puzzle pieces potentially fall into place. You see, at first it seemed silly for me to even consider Cushing's, because I have adrenal insufficiency and don't make enough cortisol (which is why I supplement, every day, for the rest of my life) and Cushing's is when there is an excess of cortisol or other adrenal hormones in the system. Doing this research, though, brought me to realize that my endocrinologist has gotten my thyroid levels good and under control but she is doing nothing to monitor my adrenal insufficiency… which could be fatal, given the right circumstances. That's not acceptable, and I mean to remedy the situation. I'm trying to get an earlier appointment than the one I have in 1.5 months so I can discuss this with her. I'm dreading the thought of possibly having to find yet another doctor in the big city, but I will if this doctor doesn't take me seriously and start keeping tabs on my adrenal levels. I'm taking the same amount of cortisol supplement that I have for years, but is that the level my body needs to be functioning optimally? I don't know. I haven't been tested. The only relevant test was where the insufficiency was confirmed.

So what makes me think that this could be part of my problem? A few of the symptoms fit what I'm struggling with: 

• Purple marks (1/2 inch or more wide), called striae, on the skin of the abdomen, thighs, and breasts
• Acne or skin infections
• Upper body obesity (above the waist) and thin arms and legs
• Round, red, full face (moon face)
• Thin skin with easy bruising
• Backache, which occurs with routine activities
• Bone pain or tenderness
• Mental changes, such as depression, anxiety, or changes in behavior
• Fatigue
• Headache
• Increased thirst and urination

Possible complications include:

• High blood pressure
• Kidney stones
• Serious infections

I've marked in red all of the symptoms that apply to me. Some are new, such as the striae, the upper body weight gain, the fullness/puffiness of my face, the increasing bone pain and tenderness, and my blood pressure that has been steadily rising over the past year.

One cause of Cushing syndrome can be a tumor on one of the adrenal glands. "Cushing syndrome is caused by constant, high levels of the steroid hormone cortisol. A tumor on one of the adrenal glands causes about 15% of all cases of Cushing syndrome. Adrenal tumors release cortisol. In adults, adrenal tumors are less likely to be the cause of high cortisol levels. Pituitary tumors (Cushing's disease) are more often seen in adults. Adrenal tumors are found in women more often than in men."

Cushing's disease is when the pituitary gland makes too much of the hormone ACTH. ACTH then signals the adrenal glands to produce cortisol. A tumor of the pituitary gland may cause this condition, tumor of the adrenal gland, or tumors elsewhere in the body that produce cortisol or ACTH (such as the pancreas, lung, and thyroid). I know I don't have Cushing's disease, because I don't make enough cortisol and the disease is too much. It's like the difference between hyperthyroidism and hypothyroidism. I'm hypo on the thyroid and the cortisol. If, however, there's a foreign something somewhere in my body that's giving me excess amounts (because remember, I'm also taking cortisol supplements on the daily), then that could possibly explain some of what I'm going through, if not all.

So, this illness… brought to you by the letter C. C for cancer, C for Cushing's, C for CFS. I intend to pursue this matter, along with a few other options such as myalgic encephalitis (CFS) or an infection of the Vagus nerve. Lyme disease might not even be too much of a stretch. We'll see. One way or another, we'll see…

So I have a "confession" to make. (I put confession in quotes, because the word connotes the sense that I've done something bad that I am admitting to, but I don't consider this particular thing to be bad, actually. It's just the word that most accurately conveys the type of discussion I'm about to have with myself.)

I'm done with Christianity.

I went to church a week and a half ago, and it was nice to see all the people that I'm familiar with and that care about me. That was the good part. I did get sick and have to leave just a few minutes into the sermon, but I kind of expected that. What I was looking for was... I dunno. Some kind of fulfillment. I have so much nostalgia attached to church and the singing of hymns, of listening with rapt attention to the sermon and following along in my Bible. I miss that culture sometimes, I really do. SOULS was a good time, despite all of the difficulties I experienced and the twisted ideas I came away with. I miss the camaraderie, the  passionate pursuit of a common goal. I miss the music. Oh, do I miss the music... I miss the intellectually stimulating conversations, the inside jokes, the whole culture of Adventism. I miss belonging to something.

But I didn't find that when I went to church. I didn't find anything but my friends, and even that wasn't enough. I watched the service through new eyes, and I was disappointed to find that it no longer seemed to fit in with the reality of my world. I wanted it to. I wanted it all to make sense like it used to, but it just didn't. It doesn't. But I was willing to overlook that, to try to get back into it.

Today, though, E and I went to one of the high risk charter high schools to do a presentation on teen dating violence. While we were going through the teen power and control wheel (see picture below), we were talking about abusive control. E was talking, and she was describing how a partner manipulates the other with, "If you love me, you'll _______" to get them to do what the abusive partner wants. When E said that phrase, "If you love me," the words that immediately leapt to mind to complete the phrase was a Bible verse-- John 14:15. "If you love me, keep my commandments."

That's a sentiment that's always kind of bothered me. That, and the follow-up chapter, John 15, especially verse 14: "You are my friends if you do whatever I command you." Well, duh. Of course I'd be friends with someone if they did whatever I told them to! That's always what I thought when coming across those verses, and it bothered me.

Don't get me wrong-- I think the Bible has a lot of good things going for it. There are plenty of fabulous principles to live your life by. Waiting until a mature, monogamous, long term relationship to have sex? That's good sense that's been backed up by neuropsychology. Not killing other people? Yeah, that's a pretty good idea too. Taking care of your body, treating it as a temple, a special thing? Also a great idea.

But the more I learn and heal from my past abuse the more I see why I've had such a hard time dealing with God and religion and church... because there are so many abusive, controlling overtones and triggers. Sure, some people can deal with it, and that's great. My friend J? Religion works for her. The God thing works for her. That's how she lives her life, and she's a fantastic person, and I'm really happy for her. But I just can't do it. I can't get behind someone that says, "If you love me, you will do _______." John 15:10 says, "If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love."

"I will love you if you do what I say. If you love me, do what I tell you to." No. I don't think so. Sorry.

So I guess that makes me an agnostic now. I believe in a higher power, though whether that's an actual conscious intelligence or just the greater balancing force of the universe, I couldn't say right now. But I definitely believe there's more going on than just our teeny tiny little humanness down here on Earth.

Maybe someday I'll get back to Christianity. Maybe I won't. I couldn't say for sure right now. But I am relieved to have made up my mind one way or another, though I didn't expect it to come so quickly and decisively, and definitely not in the middle of a session on teen dating violence! What a place to have an epiphany, huh?

I'm not going to go announcing this from the rooftops, but I just hope that I don't lose too many of my Christian friends over this... but I guess that if they don't love me if I'm not a Christian, then a.) they weren't really my friends in the first place, and b.) they're not living up to that Christian standard they profess? I know I won't have any problems with my atheist or pagan friends. Shoot, they'll probably be happy for me. C says that he's glad that I'm getting stronger. What he means by that is that I'm thinking for myself, making my own decisions despite the possibility of disapproval from others, and I'm not doing the codependent people-pleasing thing any longer. I'm glad, too. Honestly, I'm scared of the potential rejection and backlash (and I'm really dreading possible evangelism attempts), but I know that I can be true to myself and stick to my guns. I can. But oh... I'm nervous. Please, nobody give me a tough time...

I'm lying here, in a world of hurt, contemplating tomorrow.

I don't understand why my pain has just been getting worse and worse, but I'm hopeful (and fearful) that tomorrow will hold answers for me. Well, truthfully, no matter what the tests say I will have answers. Either I have MS or I don't. Either it's lupus or it's not. Either they see something wrong with me or they don't. Either we know what's killing me slowly or we know to look somewhere else, to some other solution.

C seems pleased at my efforts to be healthy and live a full life in spite of the pain and sickness. We took the snake for a walk tonight, and we walked all the way down the block to the canal, then followed that down to the main road before we retraced our steps. I'm proud of myself. I've made it a goal to take a walk every other night, and C is supportive of that. I love taking walks with him, and there's no point in walking during the heat of the day anyway, so I may as well wait for him to get home before I go out.

I worked several hours today and accomplished a great deal, more than E thought I would. She had to go out and run some errands so I finished the tasks she needed done that day and just kept going with filing and other projects that have been lying around for a while. I've got more phone calls and stuff to make tomorrow, but the good news is that the board approved an hour increase for me, so I can work up to 8 hours a week now! That is, if I can physically handle it, of course. But I really want to try to maintain 8 hours a week. Not only can I use the money, but it is also good for my peace of mind and my sense of industry.

As much as I'm involved in the HJ these days, it came as a funny realization to me today that I really don't feel the need to attend the sexual assault support group for myself anymore. At least, not right now. I'm in a good place, I've got good coping mechanisms and healthy tools in my toolbox, and I'm in a pretty steady place in my life. In addition, most of my energy is focused on the fight for my physical health these days, and my emotional health is not the main priority for healing any longer. I'm sure I'll still pop in from time to time, and there may be a time when I need to go back in a more long-term fashion, but... I guess I've moved to a new place in my healing journey, one where I can give support as well as receive it. I am getting support from places other than group now, and it's enough for me.

It's funny... I was musing today that I have gained a lot from my battle with chronic illness. I've grown a lot as a person, my perspective on life has been refined and tempered, and I am much more intentional in my relationships and my lifestyle. My support network has been finely crystallized into a distinct entity, whereas before I just had... friends. I've learned a lot about boundaries and humility and accepting care from others. I've learned a lot about letting others care for me as a friend, and how to care for others in a truly open way. I've learned even more about taking care of myself in all aspects, and I've learned how to listen to myself. (Mostly.)

So no matter what answers (or lack thereof) tomorrow brings, it's just another step in this rich, tumultuous journey that I'm on. I'm grateful for it... but sometimes I wish it hurt less. In so many ways.

My friend that died was only 19. We grew up together in our small church, so even though I didn't get to know him well personally as we got older, his loss is a hard blow. He died of a single gunshot wound in the wee hours of Monday morning, and his parents are devastated.

I texted BJ yesterday, wondering when the funeral/memorial service would be. She told me what she knew, then mentioned that there was a grief counseling session for the youth of the church going on right then. Although I was grieving more for D than M at that point, I hopped in my car and beelined it over there. It was good, and I'm glad I went. We shared stories and memories of M for a good hour before loading ourselves in cars and visiting his parents to share our good memories. They were encouraged by the sharing, but I could see how torn up they were. It must be hard, to have memories of their son constantly surrounding them... even with D, I'm so far removed from the situation that my grieving comes in spurts. If I were back home with the S's, the agony of my heart would be unceasing.

The language that I'm hearing over and over again is, no surprise, that of the hope of seeing these two again. SDA's believe in the resurrection of the righteous at the second coming of Jesus, that death is but a "dreamless sleep" until then, and that the righteous will spend all eternity in heaven. I was raised hearing and reading and believing this version of things, but as I sat in that room with all the other teary-eyed young people and adults, I realized, much as I did when SOULS came last year, that I don't believe that anymore.

When C came home, I turned to him and said, "I think I'm an atheist." He replied, "...Congratulations?"

I should make it clear that C has never pressured me in any way to leave my beliefs or my church and adopt his viewpoint. He's listened to what I have to say, sat through my explanations of Bible passages and church doctrine, and even listened attentively as I read him Case for a Creator on the trip to and from the Renaissance Festival. He has not hesitated to share his side of things, of course, but his point of view is that I can believe whatever I want, but the important thing is that I believe it for myself and because I have thought it out myself. He doesn't want me to believe and follow something just because other people are influencing me to do so (which includes being afraid of disappointing people by adopting a different viewpoint). Have his beliefs influenced me? Absolutely yes, but that's because as I've begun to question and think for myself these past few years, my church's version of things made less and less sense. God made less and less sense. I began to cobble together my own philosophy, based on my observations of the world around me, and then when I was exposed to C's point of view, well... the two were very similar.

I'm not set in any particular belief system at this point. I'm still... in flux, I guess you could say. I'm not an atheist in reality, for I still believe in the existence of God, or a higher power, or whatever, but... although I believe in God, I don't believe in God. Do you see the distinction?

Honestly? I've found that I'm much happier, balanced, and accepting now that I've left Christianity. The whole "atheists are immoral heathens" thing is so not true. Atheists are some of the best people that I know. I know some really good Christians, too, but I think it has more to do with the person than the belief system. Don't get me wrong-- Christianity has a great philosophy, and if people would live life the way that Jesus espoused the world would be a heck of a lot better place. And that's what I'm trying to do-- live the life that Jesus advocated... except without the God part.

I've heard that without God you can't love other people, that there's no source of goodness without him.  Since I no longer believe that I'm an unworthy person who needs saving from myself, I'm free to see the goodness and love that I have inside of me. It comes from me, from a decision to love the people around me, and so many other people have made that decision independent of any kind of divine mandate or indwelling. Atheists, the supposedly heartless immorals, have done a damn lot of good in the world for no reason other than that they saw the suffering and neediness of their fellow human beings and wanted to relieve it.

I've also heard that being an atheist diminishes the sanctity of life, makes it just some happenstance thing that has no consequence or bearing. While I suppose that's true, in a way (for they don't believe that they are the metaphorical center of the universe as Christians do), I think it brings as great or greater a reverence for life as the belief of creation by a personal deity. Consider these two quotes:

“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded, because the elements - the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution and for life - weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars, and the only way for them to get into your body is if those stars were kind enough to explode. So, forget Jesus. The stars died so that you could be here today.” ― Lawrence M. Krauss

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?” ― Richard Dawkins

The thing that really bothered me, the thing that really disturbed my previous lines of thinking, was a quote from Epicurus that I stumbled across that put a voice to the quailing doubts and angry questions I have about God. I began vacillating and questioning while I lived in ID, but there was too much at stake there for me to give full expression to most of my doubts. I broke out of one of the church's doctrines while there, and received a mighty backlash from it. That taught me not to rock the boat. But once I moved away, once the reputation of a wonderful family didn't rest upon my actions, I was free to pursue a path that made sense to me, one that resonated with both my being and my mind. I didn't come across this quote until that time, and it's probably a good thing, because if I had found it while I was still up north... I think all hell would have broken loose. It would have put me in quite the hard place emotionally and mentally, I can assure you.

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?"  - Epicurus [341–270 B.C.]

I guess I'll end with that. It sums it up pretty well for me.

I know that at the memorial on Friday (and whenever D's memorial is) I'll be hearing a lot about the Second Coming, and that's fine. To me, all this talk about seeing them again and Satan out there working hard, etc. simply sounds like people trying to make sense of the bad stuff that happens in the world, and clinging to a comforting thought because they cannot face the finality of loss. But I know that they really, really believe it, and it brings them comfort and hope, so... I'm not going to say a word. Not a peep from me.

To be brutally honest, though? I do miss having that comfort... the thought of seeing the ones I love again. I just don't want to truly say goodbye.

So here it is, folks. Another post about God.

More specifically, a post about God and why his peeps sometimes annoy me.

Okay, I'm going to start this out with an earth-shattering confession...

I don't wanna be a Christian. I don't want to serve God. I don't want to wait breathlessly on his plan for my life. I inwardly cringe when I catch mention of the phrase "God's will" (for your life, for this or that, etc.). I try to avoid talking about religion or God with anyone I don't emphatically know is either a heathen, a pagan, or an atheist/agnostic. (There are, of course, a few exceptions... but they're pretty few and far between.)

Why, you ask?

Because Christians have been given the gospel. And the gospel is all about telling people about God, and going forth, and all that jazz... so when you're having a conversation about God, the near-inevitable outcome is that the gospel rises within them and they go forth to your brain and your opinions and your worldview and proceed to try to get you around to their way of thinking, somehow.

I was there once. I know how this game is played. And now that I'm on the other side of the net? I wish I'd never done that to people.

Seriously. I have so. much. regret. about my canvassing days and the post-SOULS years. So much guilt and embarrassment. Why, oh why, did I do those things to people?

Well, I didn't know any better. I was trained to do that. And I desperately wanted acceptance, approval, and a spot in the world. Oh, and I wanted God to like me.

E says my understanding of Christianity is warped. I say fine. Then I don't feel so bad laying it down and trying to figure out what's real.

I'm not trying to justify my choices at all. I fully acknowledge that a great many people who are or have at one time been invested in my life to a high degree would be disappointed, crushed, heartbroken, or any combination of negative adjectives upon hearing this. But it's not about other people, is it? No, not at all.

It's not just that I have anger issues with God. I fully acknowledge that one, as well. It's more than that, though...

A friend told me not to terribly long ago that I'm a very accepting person, very open, and it's true. As black and white as my thinking tends to be, I have a hard time seeing the world around me in strictly blacks and whites. The claim of exclusive truth always felt off to me, and I resent the implications that exclusive truth brings. (Namely, that everyone else is wrong!)

I was walking and praying, probably about this time last year, and puzzling over church, God, my involvement with the two... my heart... my brain... my questions... and then I walked under this tree. And I had an epiphany of sorts.

What if God is a tree? I mean, what if God is the trunk, and all those branches are the different religions or worldviews or whatever? (Keep in mind that I'd just been learning about learning styles in a class of mine.) What if each soul has a particular "learning style", and they gravitate toward the branch that will teach them who God is most clearly? For some, that may be Adventism. For others, that may be Islam. For yet others, that may be Wicca. But each soul learns about who God really is, just through different means.

It made a lot of sense to me. Despite my rigid adherence to SDAism for so many years, I naturally gravitate towards the faiths that find their understanding more in the natural world, through rituals, and through the world around them.

Don't get me wrong-- I totally believe in Intelligent Design. I believe in a Creator. I just realize that I don't know diddly squat about him, and the God that I've been interacting with all these years could very well be a figment of my imagination because he's not like how I've imagined him to be at all and I've just been projecting things onto him... which means that the God I know could be, for all intents and purposes, all in my head.

Do I believe that God inspired the writing of the Bible? Assuredly. Do I believe that it's inerrant? In intent, yes. There are contradictions within the pages of the Bible, both in details and in more philosophical aspects (like God's split personality, for one), and anyone who denies this is really, really living in la-la-land. Even the ABC has books about reconciling the "apparent" contradictions in the Bible. They're there.

Do I believe that the Bible is the only literature God ever inspired? No. I do not.

See, I've had questions for a long time... questions that I've never fully articulated or examined, because I knew that my faith wasn't up to the test. One of the reasons I hated going door to door was that I couldn't stand pushing stuff on people that I didn't fully or really believe myself. I ran across two quotations that really challenged me, though, and disturbed my placid pool of Christianity deeply.

The first is by Epicurus, and is pretty famous. (They're both pretty famous, actually.) It goes like this:
"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?"

That pretty well sums up why I'm so angry and yes, even somewhat bitter, with God. He could have stopped my molestation and abuse. But he didn't. Didn't he want to? Did he just not see what was happening? Did he not care?

I've gotten the standard Adventist answer about the Great Controversy more times than I can count, and I've handed it out more times than I can count. I've even tried really hard to believe it, and I do sometimes. But it just doesn't satisfy my deep need for a God that cares. Yes, I know. Jesus. Right. Please, I went to Bible college, I've got this down. But that's God caring about humanity. Where's the God that cares about the toddler that was placed in a hot oven that seared her back? Where's the God that cares about the same toddler, locked in a cold bath with ice cubes until her lips were blue and laughed at by her mom's jealous, abusive boyfriend? Where's the God that cares about the skinny child with large bloody bruises across her buttocks and legs from being beat with a leather belt because she interrupted her step-dad's video game? Where's the God that cares about that child as she slept on blankets in the hallway to avoid being alone in her room at night, only to have her abuser join her in plain sight and work his hand between her legs, or spill his semen all over her blankets?

Where's the God that's going to do anything about all that shit? I'm just getting started on the tragic experiences, you know.

Where's the God that listened to the cries and prayers of that girl who believed in him so fervently, who believed all that talk about just asking Jesus and he'd come make everything better? (It's a bunch of b.s., by the way. Just praying to Jesus doesn't make anything better, despite what you hear in Sabbath school. He may be there with you, but he's a pretty passive bystander.)

And shoot, that's just my story. What about the little girl in H who was being raped by her dad and brothers, who prayed and prayed for God to help her, and even made sure to describe how to get to her house after time had passed and he hadn't stopped them? What about the story in Angels Among Us where God sends an angel to keep that little girl from being molested? WTF, God? Really? You're gonna jump in for her, but not for me, or for my girls in group, or for the other countless children that are being beaten, starved, or molested?

I'm sorry, but I'm not content to sit around accept this absent father God anymore.

Did you know that I realized I'm a quasi-Buddhist recently? I stumbled across this Q&A about Buddhism that was really, really well written, and I realized while going through it that I believed a lot of the same things they do. In this last year of searching and thinking and praying, I've developed a lot of beliefs and come to a lot of conclusions that Buddhism has been espousing for thousands of years. Funny, huh? The big, huge difference is that Buddhists do not believe that gods exist, whereas I do. So I can't be entirely Buddhist, but I definitely embrace most of their philosophies. That's pretty much the path I'm taking at this point.

Here's the other quote that shook me up so deeply. This one is from Marcus Aurelius.
“Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.”

That's kind of where I'm at at this point.

I'm tired. I'm tired of performing. Tired of trying to make it work. Tired of trying to be "right"... Should being right be this hard? I mean, if it's right... should it not be at least a little self-evident?

And the thing is... I really can't tell any of this to Christians, because it's appalling to them. It's abhorrent. Especially because I was once one of the elite, a shining star, an example to the other youth and an encouragement to the older generations.

How the mighty have fallen. Heh.

Again, it's not about other people. It's really not. It's about me doing what I perceive to be the best and most right thing... right now.

I am in no way claiming that this is not all subject to change, because it totally is. I could change my mind tomorrow! But that's the beauty of free will, and religious freedom. I have the choice to change my mind.

I just wish that people would accept that, stop trying to change my mind, stop being all disappointed and pouty when the realize I don't believe as they do anymore, stop being threatened by my choices... and just let me be. 

Please. Just let me be. Let me make my own choices. Stop trying to change my mind. I'm not doing this purposely to screw with you, you know. I'm trying to find my way through life, just like everyone else... Except that I don't derive my power to be happy, optimistic, productive, or even functional from God. It's inside me, where it's always been. It was only after realizing that I'm the one that's been doing all the work that I felt free. It's been me that's worked on myself, me that has healed, me that has taken risks and accepted challenges and made mistakes and been a good person. (Granted, a lot of times I was a good person out of fear of what would happen if I wasn't, but it was still me.)

Maybe God uses the strength I have inside myself to get stuff done. Maybe God uses the people around me to lift me up and speak words of life that encourage and inspire me. But I'm done with the image that he's camped out in a tent somewhere inside me with an assortment of factories that he uses to produce various things like goodness, strength, etc.

Anyway, I've probably gone on enough of a bitter diatribe here to last for a good, long time.

But before I quit, I do want to address one more thing that really, really bothers me. 

I am marrying an atheist. It's true.

However, please refrain from the following sentence when you talk about him:

"He's a really good guy, but..."

Yes, the "but" refers to his atheism. It's like all the virtues, all the good qualities, all the responsible behaviors and solid choices and the moral nature are all canceled out by the fact that he doesn't believe in God. That he had questions that were never satisfactorily answered by religion or the Bible. That he saw contradictions and hypocrisy and wanted nothing to do with it. That he was burned by Christians themselves, judged and dismissed because they knew one thing about him that they didn't agree with. 

And I've gotten the "but", too, in regards to my choices.

You're a good person, but you can't actually be considered a good person, because of this. I'm sorry. You fail the morality test. Sure, you got every other question right, but those actually don't count for anything. It's this one that determines whether you pass or fail. (Because really... if a Christian is a bad person or makes a bad choice, well, God can forgive anything, right? And they probably weren't really a Christian to begin with. But if an atheist or some other religion is a bad person or makes a bad choice, well, see? Those amoral hooligans just can't do anything else. They've given in to the carnal nature, and the carnal nature is emnity against God. Yep. It just stands to reason.)

No more "but"s.

I'm a good person. I have been a good person. And I will continue to be a good person.

Whether that's as a Christian, as a quasi-Buddhist, as a Wiccan, or as an atheist, I will still be a good person. Who I am is not what God I believe in, or how I choose to worship him.

So no more "but"s, okay? And I promise to try to be more tolerant of Christians and not roll my eyes so much.

Deal? :)

Well, I had my special doctor's appointment this morning. It ran super loooooong, and I ended up missing math class (and a big test). I did, however, get a doctor's note, and I can make up the test, so it's okay. Between a test and a diagnosis, I think I made the right choice. (Even if I did have to call Mom to help me decide whether to stay or not!)

So.

I have Fibromyalgia.

The doc's are also doing auto-immune tests to see what kind of involvement is going on there. They suspect connective tissue disease (but there are over 200 specific diseases under that umbrella, so we'll see where that leads!).

While conversing about this with J, she pointed out that I sounded really optimistic, and was I really okay with this?

Well, yes and no.

Part of me is ecstatic. I have a name for this soul-sucking nonsense. I can focus my energies on managing something real. Most importantly, I'm not crazy. This is a legitimate illness, albeit "invisible". And I can do research, figure out what kind of lifestyle changes I need to make to manage this better. I can manage something I have a name for. It's no longer that nebulous, nameless sickness that steals so much time from me, but something concrete that I can fight, manage, and work with. It's hard to fight a faceless enemy. You never really know if you're doing the right thing... or if it's all just chance.

Part of me though, is a bit crushed. I'll be honest. To be laden with the mantle of "chronic illness" at 24 is... well, it seems unfair. Why is my body so fragile and broken? I have my whole life ahead of me, and now it's tinged with the expectation of pain. It may go away, but it may not. It could be pain like this, every day, for the rest of my life. Fatigue, crippling me... keeping me from being the kind of mom that I want to be, the kind of wife that I want to be... the kind of employee that I want to be.

Will I be able to hike the Grand Canyon next summer? I don't know.

Will I end up in a wheelchair because it hurts too much to walk? It's a possibility.

Will I have days that I can barely muster the physical energy it takes to walk from my car to the classroom? Likely.

And the thought of facing that for the rest of my life is... daunting.

But.

But.

I'm sure some good is going to come out of this. Do I dare call it a tragedy? It feels a little like one to me, but on the other hand it doesn't. Maybe it's an opportragedy. Mostly opportunity with a little tragedy thrown in :)

So the docs put me on this antidepressant that's been proven to help with fibro. As uneasy as I was at the thought of being on antidepressants earlier this year (when I went to beg my doctor to help me overcome my horrific depression, and was told by my employer that if I got on antidepressants they'd have to let me go, which STILL irks me to no end), I don't mind so much now. Probably because it's not a mental thing that I'm working with, so I don't feel like "I can fix myself given enough time". It's physical, it's here, it's "permanent", and I know I can't go on living like I am.

And hey, this'll probably help with my depression, too. Two birds, one stone :) (Also, it's non-habit forming. Wheee-hew.)

I think more research is in order. I'm not just going to be like, "Okay, I have this, life goes on as normal." No way! I bet there are lifestyle changes I can make that would help... beginning with regular massages ;)

Also, I'm seriously asking questions about the role of seratonin now... Why does a Seratonin and Norepinephrine Re-uptake Inhibitor help with fibro? Is there some connection with chemical imbalance and the likelihood of fibro? Why is it mostly women in a certain age bracket that get it? What connection is there between depression and fibro/overactive nervous system? Because that's what fibromyalgia is, basically-- a hypersensitive nervous system. There's a bust in the chain somewhere that keeps pain signals going when there's no stimulus or reason for pain. A broken feedback loop.

It makes me want to go into neuropsychology even more. Oh, how I want to research these things!!!!

By the way... I found it!

Finally! An accurate summation of what I go through. Those "spells of darkness"...

This is my life. I knew I wasn't crazy.

Now, I can get help.

(And, interestingly, the article links hypomania with the depression, which in turn brings out hypersexuality as a component of the hypomania, which totally matches with what I go through with C. Oh, snap. Could all these things really be puzzle pieces?)

Well, delayed leaving by a day because R checked out my car and my brake pads are worn down. It's not *bad*, but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, you know? Plus, I'll get to learn how to install brake pads on my car! Hello, Proverbs 31 points! :)

Plus this'll give me an extra day to prepare and pack, and I won't be hurried and rushed (as I was this morning. Sabbath ends late, and I didn't have much time to prepare before I was overwhelmed with sleepiness.)

C: Cars... talk about your first car, the car you have now, any accidents, driving pet peeves, etc.


I've only had two cars, and I still have the second one. My first car was Betsey, the "Google" car. (She was a Pontiac 6000LE, but my friend misread the name, thinking it said "Google"!)

I got her my first year at Bible college, when I needed a car to do door-to-door work for one of our practicums. I affectionately called her "the tank", because she never broke down and never gave up. Even when other people ran into her, there was nary a dent or a scratch.

Inside, though, she wasn't exactly the ideal car... The driver's seat did not recline anymore, but was permanently stuck. Since it was reclined back farther than I liked, I simply rode around with a pillow between my back and the seat. The AC didn't work, which wasn't usually a problem, except when I was driving around in the desert. (I almost got heat stroke one time coming home on break.) At least the heater worked! (...constantly ^_^) The seatbelts in the back were rusted to the point of uselessness, and there was a giant hole in the seat from some acid of some sort. I just kept it covered with a blanket. Oh, and the dome light didn't work, because my great uncle had tinkered with it and tried to rewire it somehow.

Outside of that, she's cherry. Not bad for a first car, and great for a free car! (She was a direct answer to prayer.)

Then came Shenandoah.

Quite the upgrade, no? Betsey got sold down in Mexico. I hope they enjoy her. (The lack of AC could prove to be problematic...) Shenandoah was part of God's preparations to send me to Idaho. He knew Betsey would never make it.

This is the car I have now, I and I really enjoy her. Did I mention that Betsey didn't have a cd player? She did have a tape deck, but Shenandoah has both! It's nice to have music when I travel.

As far as accidents go... I haven't had any in Shenandoah, nor did I have any in Betsey. I did, however, have one in C's truck once. (That's a funny, slightly embarrassing story...) I was trying to park in a parking garage so that I could go and have an interview with the Sheriff's Department. I was nervous, I was still a new driver, and I wasn't very used to the truck yet. The spot I chose was too tight, but I didn't realize it, and I got hung up on the huge white truck to the right. I carved a huge dent into the side of C's truck, but the other truck was okay. To further the exasperation of the situation, I locked my keys in the truck as I was trying to brush my paint off the other truck's bumper. (The interview went okay, though.) I called C, and his dad gave him a ride over. Turns out his dad (a Sheriff's Dept. employee) works with Sgt. M, and knew that it was his truck right off the bat. Sgt. M is the guy that would be administering the polygraph test as I got farther into the hiring process for the Sheriff's Dept. Great.

Sgt. M's truck was fine, and it was all off the record, but that was highly embarrassing for me. (A few months later, while I was a waitress, two Sheriff's Dept. guys came in for supper, and as I was serving them, they figured out who I was by our small talk-- "You're the girl who hit Sgt. M's truck!!" Embarrassing much?)

Oh, and one other time, I borrowed J's car, and as I was parking, the wheel slipped in my hand, and I dinged the car next to me. I ended up paying out of pocket so my friend's insurance wouldn't take the hit.

Hmm... Pet peeves.... Oh, yes. Use your blinkers, people!! That's what they're there for! How am I supposed to work harmoniously with you if you won't let me know what you're doing?

Another pet peeve is driving under the speed limit... in the passing lane. I'm here because I want to pass someone else who is going under the speed limit. Blurgh. 

I think that's it. I'm sure I'll realize something that annoys me when someone does it. :)

I'm going to go pack, now. I want to be ready for tomorrow morning when I have to roll out bright and early.