That's right-- I pierced my nose! Did it last Tuesday while in Wisconsin. And I got the next set of lobe piercings. Eventually I want to be pierced all the way up to the top of the ear, but that'll take time. I have to baby my nose ring, because I'm so prone to infection and it is catching a slight infection, but I'm not worried. I'm treating it real good.

I have so much to write about, but I need to fall asleep about 2 hours ago, as I'm working the final day of this season's gun show in a few short hours. Buenas nachos, all. Just wanted to commemorate my bad-assery. ^_^

(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?

Guess what, y'all? It's National Invisible Illness Awareness Week! I'm about half a week late on this, because, guess what else? Yeah, that's right-- I was busy being sick with my invisible illnesses ;) Funny how that works, ain't it?

Anyway, I'll be catching up with a few little things here and there that other bloggers are doing to 'celebrate' this week and to bring awareness to invisible illnesses and what life with them is like, but for now, all I've got is a post from my other blog, the more public one, that gives a little insight into what life is like for the invisibly ill. It's hard to deal with diseases that no one can see, and ones that aren't main-stream, popularly accepted diseases like cancer or ALS or autism. ALS and autism have some symptoms that are on the more visible side, but for the most part they suffer in relative anonymity.

When you have an invisible illness, it's easy to judge and be judged. "But you don't look sick!" I know, I know. In fact, I look pretty good, if you discount the weight gain. (Some would even say that I look better now, with the extra weight and curves, than I did before!) But the suffering is just as real, just as valid, as someone with a broken leg or a shattered spine. My disability is just as devastating and pervasive as anything else you can think of, but I don't have the "legitimacy" of a cast or an IV pole or something tangible that signals I've got a terrible reality squatting on my shoulder at all times. I suppose that I'm "lucky" in that I need my walker, the Bling Chariot, to get around outdoors because it lends me an air of disability that wouldn't be there if I simply limped around and sat whenever I got the chance. People often ask me if I've had surgery or injured my leg somehow, though. When you see an otherwise healthy looking young woman your first thought will probably not be, "I wonder if she is dealing with crippling physical symptoms that have totally devastated her ability to participate in society in a regular manner?" I think that now, when I see people with a particular gait or look on their face. I watch people much more closely now, and I understand a bit more than I did previously, but here's the thing: until you or someone you love has experienced something, you just aren't going to think about it. You don't know, you don't know a damn thing, and you really can't. And you know what? That's okay. That's okay because how could you possibly, unless someone explains it to you?

That's the whole point of Awareness Weeks. People don't know, they don't understand, because it's not visible and it's not obvious and if you haven't had experience with it you could never, ever guess what it's like and what we face. I didn't know. I'd never heard of fibromyalgia or chronic pain or connective tissue disease or Addison's or thyroiditis until they all happened to me. Food allergies I'd heard of, in passing, but I didn't know anything about them until I was forced to, for my own survival. I was told by a doctor yesterday that I am one of the most well-educated patients she's met, and though it's not the first time I've been told that by a medical professional it always shocks me. Shouldn't at least the people who have the diseases care? Shouldn't they want to know, to learn, to be as in control of these crazy diseases as you can via knowledge? But apparently many choose the path of ignorance, even when their very own body is on the line.

In closing, I can tell you that some of the most moving and profoundly meaningful things I've heard since I got sick came from family and friends who have told me that when they learned the name of what I have, they went and researched to understand it better, to understand me and my new reality better. My friend, The Artist, shares stories with me about how she defends me to friends of hers that see my comments and posts on Facebook through her account and question the veracity and legitimacy of my claims. Am I faking it for attention? Exaggerating? Fibromyalgia is just a "throw away" diagnosis; it means the doctors don't know what it is and they tell you that to keep you happy. She's probably not as sick as she claims to be. And so on. But this girl stands up for me, she calls these friends of hers out, and she shares what she's learned from me and from her own research and she shuts those kids the hell up! And it melts my heart with gratitude and something more, every time. It reaffirms my value as a person, as a friend, and her trust in me and the self that I present to the world. In short, her bringing awareness to others on my behalf validates me entirely, and our friendship to boot. It totally almost makes me cry every time I hear about it.

Personally, I think that's how awareness spreads the best-- through the personal connections. I am not going to stop sharing the hell out of articles and pictures and blog posts on Facebook, but it's the personal connection I have with my friends that makes them want to read the articles, to learn more, and to pass on the information to others when they hear ill-informed opinions being bandied about. Truthfully… I'm super humbled by the friends that have stepped forward to be by my side for this lifelong fight I'm enlisted in. There's no way, absolutely no friggin' way, that I could do this well in isolation.

With that in mind, happy National Invisible Illness Awareness Week! May our friendships and relationships be sturdy and true, and may they lead to greater awareness in others… and within ourselves.

Hey friends, just a quick note to tell you that I haven't fallen over the edge of an abyss or anything. After that last blog post, which was particularly soul-searching for me, my mood has actually lightened considerably. I feel much better. I think being able to put my finger on the pulse of the problem helped more than I dreamed it would.

I've spent the last several days setting up a pleasant routine with Drogo when he comes home from work, part of which includes taking the ten minute walk that the neon doc ordered me to. It feels good (mostly, sorta) while I'm walking, but when I get back I usually feel pretty abysmal within a few minutes. Also, I finally got meds to deal with the nasty sinus infection I've had for the last month, so my body is kicking that and kicking my butt at the same time, like with fevers, lots of sleep, crazy nausea, dizziness… Actually, come to think of it, it's not much different from the norm except for the fevers and chills. Hah. Just ramped up a bit.

Anyway, I didn't want to leave the blog on such a morose note, knowing in myself that I'm doing better but with everyone in my blogging family having only the idea that I'm somehow still pining away in my bed for all they know.

I'm alright. For now. Just dealing with the physical maladies as usual, going through that book (I'm reading a chapter or two a night to Drogo after we get back from our walk, actually!), and trying to make the best of things. I've also found another group of friends here in town that I hope to meet in person very soon-- we're trying to organize a get together. We all share similar, yet diverse, interests that most people don't understand, so I suppose that makes us feel closer than we might if we were just happenstance people from the same town. Also, Drogo wants me to meet up and befriend a friend of his from work that he thinks I'll get along with. So maybe my social needs will be met soon, more than I predicted. That would be nice. I don't plan to make any bones about my disabilities, my inability to remain upright for long or go out often. If people want to befriend me, it's got to be the real me and not some fakey pretender.

I'll catch you guys the next time I have some emotional breakdown and need to vent lol. As Vash the Stampede says, "Love and Peace!"

A friend of mine, The Artist (as I will call her from now on) took it upon herself to draw me a picture since she figured that my spirits might be down lately since I've been really suffering this last month. She's right-- if you've read my blog at all in the past week or so you can see that I'm really going through an existential crisis type of depression, so this picture really cheered me up.

At first I loved it just because it's so adorable and it makes me smile every time I look at it, but then she explained the meaning that she put into the little details and I love it even more. I wanted to enshrine it forever with the meanings behind it, and this is the perfect medium to do so. First, here's the picture.

Here's what she says about the picture:

I thought you might have been feeling pretty down, so I figure I get back to my drawing board for some inspiration. And I drew you in a renaissance spoon warrior.

I mostly worked hard on the spoon and chest armor. I put a lot of meaning to your outfit and spoon weapon.

The chest armor with the tree symbolizes your family tree. Its braches represent your family and the family that you stayed with. No matter how far the braches spread a way from eachother, the roots will always indicate how much of an impact your family is towards you. The handle of the sword is the tricky part. I places a picture of a heart and a cross to represent the people that you have lost, but give you strength to carry on. If you look carefully you'll see a small vine of a plant (I think is name was David?) and a small crown for the "Chem princess" I think that is her nickname. The handle gives you the grips to carry your burdens and to help you move forward. Lastly, The staff of the spoon blade has writtings on it. They are the vows that C have to you on your wedding day, though I change the words from English to Irish, so it looked cooler and no to obvious of what I was doing. It represent of course how much he means to you, but gives words of strength and comfort.

I figure just an ordinary spoon didn't give it much justice, so I did my best to make it meaningful

I love it. I love it so much. Thank you, Artist, for this beautiful and unexpected gift that warmed my heart and lifted my spirits. I treasure it.

This video I watched this morning perfectly illustrates what I was talking about yesterday, about meeting myself and not defining my worth or capabilities by my appearance. It's definitely, definitely worth a watch.

I got a notification last night  that I had received a comment on an older post of mine. I LOVE getting comments (kind of feels like when you get a letter in the mail, you know?), and this one stirred me pretty particularly. Cherryblossoms wrote to me on the post "God won't protect you… or will he?" from May of 2012. This is what she said:

"Hi cassandra, i see ur blog was written a while ago and i just gotta say it REALLY spoke to me. I have not faced abuse but emotionally i resonate with all your struggle in trusting God. I've had a chronic illness for a while and last year was really...really hard. Suicidal at times. And in retrospect i can certainly see where God provided for me but like....exactly like u said, i didnt feel protected. and then i thought well...was i promised to be protected? and if i'm not how am I supposed to trust someone who doesnt seem to bother to protect me, if He could? I mean i sure wouldnt trust another person who did that to me, stand by and do nothing when maybe they couldve done something. And if it was all to teach me a lesson....well okay...did my suffering have to be that overwhelmingly painful just for me to learn something? like really? and im still not sure about what i learned. i have vague ideas. mostly i just think i learned how to be real pissed off all the time. and like u i sit here and think, im such a bad christian! i feel the same. how do i tell people jesus loves them when i still feel hurt for feeling abandoned? Anyway, i wanna know if , since time has passed since this post...if u've found wisdom or solace or anything u can offer me. hopefully u see this comment lol. anyway, take care u sound like a lovely woman nonetheless < 3"

I, of course, had to reply…

"Life with a chronic illness (or more than one) is hard. Period. And I think that some emotions are universal, regardless of abused/not abused, etc. Have you ever seen The Princess Bride? One of my favorite lines from that movie has always been when Wesley, under the guise of the Dread Pirate Roberts, tells Buttercup, "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

I can't say that I've come up with any answers… or wisdom… or solace. In fact, I don't even consider myself to be a Christian any longer. I just couldn't reconcile my experience with the facts presented in the Bible. I may come back to it someday, I can't really say… but at this point, I'm more of a quasi-Bhuddist/skeptic/deist/agnostic. Still figuring it all out. What I HAVE decided is that God wasn't responsible for my pain, I don't think. My abusers made the choice to be world class jerks, and the responsibility of my pain lies with them. Could God have stopped it? Maybe. Did he? Not that I'm aware of. But, basically, I've learned to live my life from the inner strength that I possess within myself, and the strength and hope offered to me by the people I've surrounded myself with. 

Now that I'm an adult, I can choose who I let into my life for the most part. I had no choice as a child or young adult whether to let those painful, toxic people into my life. So I surround myself with people that will feed my soul, and I stand amazed at the fact that they seem to feel the same way about me. I am learning to own my own strength, light, and love, rather than dissembling and deferring with "humility" and giving God all the credit. You say that your last year was really hard, and you were suicidal at times. (If you read some of my more recent posts, you'll see that I've been there at times lately as well.) But… you're still here. You chose to fight, to hang on, to believe in hope (maybe), and it's that strength within you that will carry you. Find hope where you can and where it suits you best. If that's in church and a belief in God, then more power to you. I have found, though, for myself… I have found that I lead a happier, more peaceful, more fulfilled and strong and hopeful life as a non-believer than I ever did as a Christian. I know that's blasphemous to some people, but it's the truth. It's safe to say that I'm a better, more authentic person now than I have ever been before in my life.

I have no idea if that addresses any of the questions floating around in your heart, but it's all I've got to offer. Thank you for the comment-- it really brightened an otherwise crappy evening (feeling VERY poorly, physically), and I hope to see you around. Oh, and thank you for the compliment :) I hope you see this!"

I've held back from outright stating some of this stuff, because honestly… I'm afraid to catch flak for my new beliefs (or lack of them, I should say). Since I spent so many years immersed in an intensely Christian culture, an overwhelming majority of my relationships and friendships are with people who are staunch Adventists and who feel that everyone should be an Adventist. If you're not, you're lost. And I really, really don't want to deal with the stigma or evangelistic efforts that would come with such an admission. I mean, if we're being honest here, it's not a state secret. It's pretty plain from my Facebook page that I've changed my stance on a lot of things, without my ever having to say anything. But I want to be seen as me, as a person, as Cassandra… not as my beliefs. Not as my religious affiliation. 

Did I tell you that when I "came out" to E about my lack of Christianity, she seriously considered asking me to resign? Why? Because our organization is faith-based, and we, the leaders, must set the example. I personally think that the organization is stronger for having a diversity of beliefs and religious convictions, as the population that we are trying to reach doesn't all fit into the standard Protestant mold. It's unfair to expect them to, and I think it's unfair to require the staff to all have the same beliefs and life choices. I mean, I totally respect other's beliefs. I have no problems with you if you're Christian, Pagan, Muslim, Greek Orthodox, whatever. It doesn't matter to me. As long as you're a good person (wherever the catalyst for that comes from) and you treat others with fairness and respect, we're good. I could wish that the same attitude were applied to me. I don't want to be discriminated against for my lack of Christianity.

And, honestly… I'm afraid. I'm afraid to lose friends. I'm afraid of being judged, of being attacked, of being the target of some campaign to change how I feel and think and believe. I have my reasons for my choices, and it feels so very invalidating for someone to assume that they know better and that if I only listened to them I would see that I am being a fool and need to come around to their point of view. I also hate the pity that is reserved for "the lost". Please, please, please… just treat me like a human being, yeah? My bestie J is a marvelous example of how the relationship between believers and non-believers should be. She sees me as a person, not an evangelistic target. We discuss religion and God and exchange thoughts, theories, viewpoints, etc., but at the end of the day we both respect each other's choices as valid and reasonable and know that the other has perfectly legitimate thoughts and feelings that went into those choices. My other friend H is a good example of this as well. It is kind of sad, though, that I find myself so appreciative of interactions that bear the mark of basic respect. I wish it were a more common thing, and that I didn't find myself living in fear of the Christian community, or the conservative SDA community, to be more specific.

I found this coat today on a website that I like to browse, dresslily. I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that most of their products are made for people smaller than I. (I'm still not used to being an XL with a double-digit bosom!) It's a shame, really, because they have some adorable things!

This coat, silly as it is, really appeals to me. I like bright colors and fun, unexpected accents. I love fur trim. I love old-fashioned looking things, and this is reminiscent of the late 19th century to me. Did I ever mention that for most of my childhood my greatest ambition was to be Amish? I used to actually spend hours scheming about how to be taken in by an Amish community, since they're pretty exclusive.  The simplicity, honesty, and hard work of their lifestyle really appealed to me, and it was all cloaked in the romanticism of childhood fancies. The dream died when my mother informed me that all the Amish were allowed to read was the Bible. Being the bookworm that I was and am, this was an unacceptable compromise, so I sadly parted ways with my fondest wish. (I've since learned that this is not true.)

I had a vibrantly sky blue coat while I was at SOULS. I got it at a yard sale put on by the church we were staying at my first summer in MI. It was a pleather trench coat, dappled in shades of sky and pale blue so that it looked like a pleasantly clouded sky. It made me sweat since there was no air flow through that material, but it was certainly handy for rainy days. GM hated it, I later learned, because it didn't match with anything that I owned or wore it with. I am of the opinion that you don't have to match at all, ever, unless you want to. I also firmly believe that coats are exempt from any outfit matching rules and can be whatever color or style you darn well please.

I finally did part with my blue trench coat, but I think back on it with fondness. It was my way of hanging on to my individuality and the sparkle of my persona in an atmosphere that, while not explicitly demanding conformity, encouraged a sort of bland sameness. Once there I didn't have much to work with anymore-- no unnatural hair colors, no jewelry, no crazy haircuts… Just modest shirts, long skirts, and cute flats. To counter that, I wore shawls, blue trench coats, neon sweaters… anything that was still me I clung to in the lukewarm sea of conservativism. I wasn't the only one. JP had his crazy knee-high socks and his sling, BH had a red track suit he wore in off times, LP always maintained her classic, fun style with grace and ease and lovely scarves, and JR would forego the demand for "propriety" in favor of the leafy embrace of the nearest tree.

Over time, though, I even gave up the bright colors, heeding very literally the counsel to not draw attention to oneself through dress or appearance. I regret that now. I entered the world of conservative Christianity during a (long) period of my life when I was struggling to find myself, to figure out who I was without the clutter and debris of friends and hobbies and expectations and excuses. I became what I thought I was supposed to be, but that was a trick I picked up at a very, very young age. If you are what you're supposed to be, act the way you're supposed to act, etc., then you curry favor with those in power and make yourself less likely to be noticed. A handy trick for abusive and dysfunctional situations. It's taken years, though, to shed that habit and slough off the accumulation of personas cultivated over decades.

I'm finally figuring out me, letting my true self shine out bright and bold… and I think the true me would like a coat like this.

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 did two things today. One was foolish, the other was brave and awesome.

We'll start with the brave and awesome. I marched my happy little self down to the local beauty school's salon and got my hair streaked with bright red and vibrant purple. How is this brave and awesome, you ask? Well, I've been wanting to do this for years, literally years, but I've been so afraid of what other people might think (because I have a reputation to uphold, you know) that I never could bring myself to give voice to my personality in that way. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and C agreed to pay for it, and then my massage therapist told me today to do something fun, so... there I went. I was supposed to get a haircut, too, but we ran out of time, so I'm going back in the morning. Nothing crazy, just a shorter version of the cute, choppy bob that I loved so much last time my hair was cut. The layers will really show off my new colors nicely. I'll make sure to get at least one decent picture.

The foolish thing? I marched my happy little self down to the local beauty school's salon without taking any painkillers or snacks with me, or even a bottle of water. Big mistake. (Granted, I had no idea how long it was going to take, but it was still a foolish oversight.) I was there for three and a half hours, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, holding the same position... and then I had an HJ meeting afterward, so by the time I got home I hadn't eaten in like, 5 hours. That's bad news for me. I was able to score some apple juice during the meeting, to boost my blood sugar a bit because I was shaking. That got me home, but I was so nauseous and painfully sick from not eating that it almost wasn't worth it... but the black rice and grilled asparagus that I forced down really did hit the spot. I'm super worn out, though. Skipped group. I just couldn't do it. Plus I've got work tomorrow.

It's dumb how just sitting in a chair for three and a half hours can completely knock me on my butt. I resent that. I did get to explain fibro and chronic pain a bit to my hairdresser, though. Of course, because I came in with my walker, it was a natural conversation topic to come up. It made me realize that I'm really interested in advocating for chronic invisible illnesses in my community, but I really don't know how to go about doing it without seeming like I'm complaining or throwing a pity party. I'll be mulling this over, I'm sure... keeping my eyes out for ideas and opportunities.

Despite my mistakes, it was a pretty good day. I'm happy. In a hell of a lot of pain and thoroughly exhausted, but happy.

We got our marriage license today. Now it's starting to feel official! It's hanging on our fridge, just waiting for the big day to come...

I tell you, it still bemuses me a bit how this man can look at me and see past the pain, past the limitations, past the coping mechanisms I've shrouded myself with, right to the core of me... and want to link himself to that for the rest of his life.

We're only nine days out, and I've got cold feet.

Not about marrying C, not at all! It's the thought of "forever" that freaks me out. The thought of, "I can never ever just pick up and leave again."

But then again, there are other, bigger thoughts that crowd those out... like the thought of, "This man has supported me through my lowest lows, has seen me sobbing and disheveled, has borne the brunt of my impatience and insecurity... everything. He's taken everything I and my crazy life/past have thrown at him, and he's still just here. Patient. Unendingly loving and wise. Not going anywhere."

And that's enough to quell the panic that rises inside me. Sure, maybe I'm voluntarily turning myself into a caged bird, but it's that very cage that will hold me up when I fall off my perch, dizzy with fatigue and shaking with pain.

You know, an interesting though struck me the other day... See, I've only just started to identify with the "chronic illness community" because of the fibro, and the disruption in my life makes me crave community and support. I realized, though, that I've had chronic illnesses for quite some time. I mean, the food allergies? Totally a chronic illness. The hypothyroid? Yep. Adrenal insufficiency? For sure.

They limited me in many ways, especially the food allergies. The fatigue was a big problem I had to contend with, but it was nothing like it is now. I just never considered myself as much less than normal, because I could still keep up with the big dogs if I pushed myself enough.

There's really no point to that observation, it was just a small "aha!" moment of mine. No moral to the story, sorry.

Mom and I talked for a good 3 hours the other day! It was really nice to connect with her again... she and I have both been busy, kind of overwhelmed with the stuff going on in our lives... She's got a ton going on, and I believe she's struggling with depression still, and definitely with fatigue. She has discovered that working out consistently and changing some of her eating habits is helping her with that, though, and I'm very glad to hear it.

I told her what happened with BJ, just an overview, but I did mention what was brought up about my having fibro because I left God, allegedly. She thought that I said "because I love God", and she was like, "Oh, I totally agree!"

I was shocked, because I thought she was agreeing with what I said, not what she heard. Rather than just shrug it off, I addressed it, saying, "Ouch, Mom! That is a hurtful statement. Do you really feel that way?"

Of course, she was confused, which led to clarification of what I had actually said, which led to her vehemently opposing the idea. She believes that, basically, I'm being attacked by Satan because I'm a threat. From there, she went on to give me this really, really affirming talk about how she's always felt that I am meant for something great, like I have a big destiny, that I was meant to live a big life.

She felt for a while that, in marrying and settling down with C here in this little town, I was basically settling. Now, though, she really feels that it is the best thing I could be doing, because it gives me the stability and support that I need to really flourish and blossom. She said that no matter where I go or what I do, I'm going to influence people and make an impact, and live a big life. She also pointed out that the fibro has only slowed me down, not stopped me. She said that nothing has or can stop me. Basically, she told me that I was an amazing person who has this incredible power to inspire others, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, and that the bad things that have happened to me really only serve to inspire others more, because they just can't get me down! It was, as I said before, very affirming. Very filling. Incredibly encouraging. I was happy. (Still am!)

When I told C about what Mom said, especially the part where she said that marrying C is the best thing I could be doing with my life, I could tell that it really pleased and affirmed him, too.

I shared with Mom how my perspective on my chronic illnesses is changing. It's much like how my perspective on being abused has shifted over the years. At first, when I was first coming to terms with it, it was devastating. I still have a tough time with it on some days, because the state of illness that I'm in has fundamentally altered my life in many ways. I didn't exactly want my life fundamentally altered, thankyouverymuch! As I've come to grips with it, though, I am starting to view it more through the lens of optimism.

Sure, it's been tough. Very tough. This last flare did not make me happy at all. Living life in constant, intense pain is wearing. I don't like it, and I wouldn't choose it. The sheer exhaustion that comes after doing basic daily tasks that I used to take for granted (even with the fatigue that I experienced previously limiting some activities) is incredibly frustrating, and I would only wish it upon my enemies.

That being said, I have gained so, so much from this experience. I have connected with communities of chronic illness survivors and made some really incredible new friends. We are developing a rich connection that wouldn't be possible if we didn't share something so intimate and difficult as chronic pain and frustrating health conditions. It's like the ladies in my support group-- we are all there for similar reasons, and we can bond because of our pain and our shared will to survive and conquer.

My relationship with C has been strengthened, I think. I know now beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will never waver in his commitment to me. His character and loyalty have been very much tested, and he has proven to be solid gold.

My desire to live an intentional, authentic life has been honed and sharpened. I only have so much energy, so where am I going to put it? What is important to me? My priorities have been refined.

This woman, Stacey Kramer, sums it up beautifully. She survived something incredible (no spoilers here! ^_^), but she can now see it as a gift. That's kind of how I see this debilitating, chronic illness now. It's a gift. A terrible, wonderful gift.

I may have days when I totally don't feel that way, and that's okay, because in the big, grand scheme of things, I really am grateful for the life that I'm living. I am blessed. I love my life, and I am very content. I can say in all honesty that I am the happiest, healthiest (yes, really!) and most authentic that I've ever been.

I talked about that today when I spoke at a domestic violence prevention training. I've survived a ton of crap, but I'm such an awesome person now... how can I not see it as a terrible, wonderful gift? Would I rather not have had to go through it? Hell yes! I would rather NOT have been abused, molested, neglected, and rejected. I would really prefer to live my life without pain hounding my every footstep. (Or foot-shuffle, as the case may be...)

But would I be the person that I am right now if I skipped all those things? Probably not. And I love who I am. I love the life I'm living.

So I choose acceptance. And I choose gratitude. And I choose to accept the gift and make the most of it, in all its terrible, wonderful complexity.

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

Well, the Christmas tree is up and littered with ornaments now. I mean, it's been up for a while, and lit with lights, but I finally got some ornaments and hung them up today. By "got", I mean "borrowed from D". Heh.

I finished everything but one assignment for my online class (an assignment that's worth more than the final, I might add!), and my math final got moved to Wednesday, so things are a bit less hectic for me than I thought they would be. *Whew!* So now I can focus especially on studying for my A&P class, which (thanks to my previous study and my sharp mind) I now have extra points in. Is there a grade for that beyond A+? Anyway, I worked the numbers and figured out that I can miss 69 of 200 questions on the final without sliding down to a B. Any more than that, though, and I lose my A. Though it is doubtful that this will happen, except in the event of a spontaneous lobotomy, it's nice to know that I've got such a big cushion. Honestly, though, I really want to get a perfect score on the final and finish the class with extra points, like I am in my online class. That would be cool. I've worked hard towards that, too.

I was noodling around on my guitar while taking a break from studying for A&P, and I happened to play "Never Part Again". Then, of course, I got homesick! So I called the S's, and D answered. He sounded pretty good at the outset, but I know that talking can be a challenge for him at this point... Sure enough, after a few minutes of back and forth chat, his voice was getting strained and he was clearing his throat several times. Under the pretense of getting back to studying, I ended the conversation sooner than I would have liked, but I don't want to unnecessarily burden him. I'm saddened and frustrated by the realization that he's slipping away, despite everything they've done to stop it.

Another friend of mine is beginning another round of chemo for persistent brain cancer, and her husband organized a "bring the bling" encouragement drive on fb, since they call her The Chemo Princess. Someone gave her a tiara and a wand and such, which she takes with her to every appointment. I didn't have a tiara or a wand to join in the bling encouragement fest, but I scrounged around and came up with what I could find...

Meh. Close enough.

I posted that to her wall with a note of encouragement/gratitude. I hope it brings her a smile :)

Life. Is it fair for me to be happy while so many others are suffering? I guess we all have our own tragedies...

I'm joining SOULS at BJ's house tomorrow night for worship and lentils. I'm gonna take my guitar, I'm not gonna take out my earring, and I'm not gonna take off my engagement ring. I have a Magabook experience to share, believe it or not! And I don't mind bringing in the Sabbath, even if I'm not SDA anymore. Of course, I won't advertise that fact... I still really like Sabbath, and I love bringing in the Sabbath with others who enjoy it.

I'm hoping that there will be little to nothing in the way of pressure/judgment from anyone (especially A), but if there is, I intend to stand my ground and keep my boundaries intact. I am not ashamed of my life, myself, or my man, and I will not let anyone cow me into feeling that way. I am also not ashamed of where I am with God right now, as it is honest. I would rather be authentic than accepted, I think... and if it comes down to that, so be it. But I don't think it will. For all my fears, SOULS kids (and staff) do tend to be gracious, at least to people's faces. It's just the zeal that I'm worried about...