Escapism

In some ways I'm doing okay. I'm not in the MAJOR slump I was in, and I'm feeling a little more...self-aware? I don't know the right word. At this point in my life I'm pretty aware of the way my mind works and so on, but I get caught up in it sometimes. And I'm not right now. Caught up in it I mean.
ANYWAYS.
Life is less than ideal right now. Everybody at home is cranky and unconsciously encouraging me to look forward to missing them. Hardcore. I'm entirely worn out. My body is saying "fuck you" and fucking with me. I'm bummed out because I can't do the waaay early uni application I was planning on. I'm bummed out because I don't have money (okay, that's pretty consistent, but the after Christmas sales are bumming me out even more. I mean, the complete BBC (70s and 80s) Jane Austen 63% off and the Firth mini-series for 8 dollars? *sob*). I'm exhausted. My brain is digging in its heels and doesn't want me preparing for next quarter. I don't feel ready for next quarter at all. I just want to curl up in a ball and escape.
I'm reading a SHIT ton of romance right now. Well, really, I'm just reading a shit ton. More than usual (a lot of people might be surprised to learn I can read MORE than usual). I'm just...
I can remember when I was younger and indulging in my favourite addiction (BOOKS in case it isn't clear) and someone (I can't remember who) got all huffy with me. "You're only reading to escape from reality!" I looked at them like they were stupid and said "Well, YEAH." The only reason I can function in this world is because I can block it out and escape to another. The real world is fucking HARD. It hurts you, abuses you, and spits you out. Then you're supposed to be hunky dory and able to do everything you could before it fucked with you.
That's not the way it works.
People need recovery time, and I can't comprehend why that's so hard to understand. If you break a leg, you need time to recover and let it heal (contrary to what my ex seemed to think, but that's a whole 'nother story). Life breaks us all the time. And we need time to heal from that. And sometimes we can't and we have to learn to function without a figurative limb. Or sometimes we can heal, but we're always a little stiff. Sometimes arthritis sets in. This analogy is getting away from me.
I don't even know what I'm rambling about at this point. I want to connect with people and I want to be left alone. I want to learn so MANY things, and I just want to curl up in my bed and read brain candy. I'm dreaming and working towards a goal I don't truly believe is achievable.
Rarely do I wish to be normal (so boring), but at times like these normal seems SO much easier.

Comfort Eating

This is why I have a blog. Because I can't afford cognitive therapy. ;)
So yeah, I've not mentioned a lot about my food/self-image/obesity issues, but they exist. Fibromyalgia is not the only reason for my obesity. I have a really fucked up relationship with food. I feel guilty every time I eat. So I try to hide my eating, which makes me feel guiltier, which leads into a really shitty cycle.
Eating in public? Oh boy. Yeah. I can feel those judging eyes on me EVERY TIME. I wish it was all in my head, but I've heard and overheard enough to know it's not, in fact, only in the noggin. People see a fat chick eating a salad "HA, who is she kidding?" Eating a burger "Geez, eat a salad!" There's no winning. No matter where you are, people think it's okay to give you advice. Being fat means you NEED their sage wisdom, even if they don't know what the fuck they're talking about.
Portion control. I fucking hate that phrase. "Oh, sweetie, you can lose that weight in NO time if you just exercise portion control!" Oh, really? So portion control is going to fix my chronic pain disorder? Portion control is going to fix the childhood experiences that taught me that eating is bad? Portion control is going to fix my crippling mental illnesses? Really? Tell me more, guru, tell me more!
I'm a fast and binge girl. I've mostly (sort of, somewhat) got the fasting part under control, but the bingeing I'm still working on. A lot of people seem to think that when I say "fast and binge" I mean that I fast until hunger overwhelms me and then binge. This is not, in fact, the case. I'm saying "in fact" a lot...whatthefuckever. No, I fast when I feel guilty. If I fast long enough it releases DELIGHTFUL endorphins in the brain (at least in my case), this is why it's a hard thing to stop doing. It really screwed up my body too. It's only recently that I've been able to recognize signals that my body is hungry. This is progress. And leads into the whole reason I'm on my blog right now.
Shut up stomach, there is no way that the growling you are letting lose has ANYTHING to do with actual hunger. I keep feeding you!
Ahem. Yes. So. The connection that would let my brain and body know "Hey! You haven't given me enough fuel to get through this day, could we get some now?" has been an issue for me. I could go a full day and simply forget to eat. At one point I could go a couple days before the fasting euphoria kicked in (while it was intentional during a brief period of my youth, it became something that just...happened) and reminded me that I hadn't eaten. I would also go through periods where the very thought of eating made me nauseous.
HOWEVER...
Comfort eating. It's a problem. When I'm going through emotional periods that I can't seem to handle, my brain and body decide that I need to eat. Like... A LOT. It's kind of a compulsion and it is INCREDIBLY hard not to eat. For a few reasons. Reason the first: It actually DOES help my emotional state (though when the food guilt kicks in it doesn't help my mental health any). Reason the second: My body and brain work in concert. Where normally I might not recognize hunger, in these cases my stomach will start growling like I haven't fed it in daaaaaaays. I forget what i was going to say for Reason the third because I'm fucking TIRED.
Sometimes comfort eating is easy. When it's easy my brain will clue me in to what it wants "FEED ME CHEESY MAC AND CHEESE OF THE CHEESIEST VARIETY" it might say. So I go and get a big old bowl of mac and cheese and the craving is (usually) satisfied. If I'm REALLY lucky it happens early in the day and i can make a little extra effort to burn the calories off, and getting said calories is more convenient.
Then there's moments right now. Where my stomach won't stop growling and my brain says "FEED ME ALL THE THINGS" and that it will figure out what it was that it wanted later. It's almost midnight. I'm lying in bed in my nightshirt. It's cold out. I can't go make something in the kitchen because everyone's going to bed. And there isn't anything that can be quickly and quietly made. We've got ingredients, that's it. I don't really have any money to spare, and even if I did (and I would find a way to spare it) I wouldn't know what to get. I've eaten myself sick in situations like this. Because my body and brain just kept demanding more food and I became distraught. Admittedly, it's only happened a couple of times, but it HAS happened. If I knew what would satisfy this comfort food craving I would get it. Pie? There's a Shari's ten minutes away. Heck, the Shari's could satisfy a bunch of possible cravings. But it's almost midnight. I'm tired. I'm too tired to drive aimlessly around in an area that shuts down early in the vain hope that I'll figure out what my brain wants. I'm too tired to go buy a meal at Shari's that I can't really afford to comfort a vague craving for SOMETHING.
This is why I periodically stock up on convenience food. Because my brain tends towards certain cravings. Cheese. Cheese makes my brain very happy. So if I keep mac and cheese stashed I'm GENERALLY good. But sometimes I'm not, and if I make mac and cheese I'll only be able to stare at it in disgust. So then I make sure I have some Spaghetti-Os. I don't usually eat them because they give me indigestion (as a general rule), but when i'm craving them I have to have them. I'll get the snack sized chocolate bars. Pressed fruit bars. Pudding. I'll have these little stashes I feel vaguely guilty about, but that keep me from gorging myself when the situation arises. Except for when i'm pretty much out and the situation arises at late-as-fuck-thirty.
Fuck.
I'm hungry. Or at least my brain and body seem to think I am in the face of evidence :/.

Recovery mode

It was WORTH IT.
That said, oh boy am I in recovery mode. I ended up doing a teensy bit more than intended last night. After the potluck/movie night (that I ended up taking a couple of friends to), I dropped one friend of at home and then took another to a bar. It was because her friend's band was playing. I went in to say hi to someone and ended up staying. For at least an hour. It was glorious. I think it might be on my "I want" list. Live music in a bar with friend? If not it should have been.
But yeah, I'm fatigued on both the physical and mental levels. And I have choices to make. Which sucks. I hate having to decide things.
So, yeah. I was getting very angsty awhile back about applying for social security. Well, that whole application process ended up a mess because, frankly, I had not understanding of what I was doing. Which I pretty much still don't. HOWEVER, long story short there was this appeal thing I had to write a letter for. Said letter was, apparently, "bizarre" (in the words of the social worker) and ended up getting my appeal dismissed. Not denied, dismissed. This is important.
So I decided to reapply. Because I don't understand anything and thought that was what I was supposed to do. Did a phone thing, set up a phone interview with a social worker. Ended up on the phone with her for TWO HOURS. Partially because I was a blubbery wreck (I hate stress crying), partially because the social worker was amazing and took the time to try and explain things to me. We tentatively have me going ahead with my new application, but I actually have another option. Pursuing the appeal. With a lawyer. :/ I have a little while to think about it, but...
There's actually a third option. Not the greatest one financially, but...I could not pursue either course of action and simply try to get by on financial aid. Which is stupidly appealing. I just...
Bah, I don't know what to do. I hate not knowing what to do. I hate being such a gibbering wreck about stuff. I hate the fact that I KNOW the only reason I'm considering that a viable option right now is that I'm at the beginning of an upswing. When I emerge from the dark, EVERY time, I have this false confidence that I have conquered the dark this time, never to return. I know it isn't true and that I have to account for that in my plans, but...That feeling of hope is so glorious that I can't help but succumb to it. 

Home Church

I don't even know how to tag this post. Heh. I think it's indicative of how much time I spend on the internet that that thought even occurred to me.
So, as already has been established (I think) I am a Christian (liberal I suppose) raised by Christians (definitely conservative!). This has given me a childhood and upbringing I wouldn't change for the WORLD (of course, I wouldn't change anything that happened to me in the past because it made me the me I am today, and I kinda like that me). But...It also causes me some discomfort.
Over the past year of living with my mother I've learned to keep my bedroom door closed when she has home church. Not just because of social issues, or the fact that I'm very messy. More because they'll often talk about things in a way that makes me really uncomfortable. I can't get angry with them because they are being loving and have the best of intentions. But...some of the convos about bringing Jews to Christ were cringe-worthy at best. Plus I don't want to start drama in my (rent-free) home.
I like most of my mom's (small) church as individuals. Very sweet, caring people who (overall) typify what I view as "real" Christians, with such generous spirits and loving hearts that it's impossible not to appreciate. But the same things that make them these wonderful, WONDERFUL, people make them...i don't even know. I can't say narrow or close minded, because that would create an erroneous image. No, i think it's more...They can't even conceive of what a world-view different from theirs would be like. They see shades of gray more than others, but still. I wish I could explain why I love, resent, dislike, adore, admire, and avoid these people. It's just such a visceral and emotional reaction that I can't even articulate it. :/

Overload Ahead

Soo...this coming week is going to go into overload territory. My body is kinda crapping out on me and finals have brain all a-jumble. Very much looking forward to the break. But before the break is this week.
Sunday? My mom has a Cookie Lee party to which I will be ferrying a friend or two.
Monday? Last class meeting for my Communications 101 class and our teacher (who is completely AWESOME (just fyi)) wants us to do a potluck thing.
Tuesday? A new friend is having a small little end of the quarter shindig. She's invited around twenty people (maybe a little less) and I'm one of them. I want to make cookies for her because she's cooking us Indonesian food and sushi.
Wednesday? Well, Wednesday shouldn't be too bad...hopefully. (edit: PHEW managed to sidestep an invite! I would normally feel bad, but I'm probably hanging out with the exact same people the next day)
Thursday? Afternoon dance party with the international students, semi-potluck.
Friday? God willing NOTHING.
Saturday? Drive my friend to his hair appointment then go to a holiday party in the evening that is (wait for it...) Potluck!!
Sunday? Collapse.
>.<
So Saturday I will probably be baking all day. Going to whip out my mad cookie skillz and make this happen. Also hoping that my body holds out. Because it's starting to stumble this week. Fatigue, disorientation, dizziness, fun stuff :/. Fingers crossed!!

노래방

I probably spelled that wrong. In any case, it appears that I am, indeed, in an upturn. Went to karaoke with friends (and professor and a couple miscellaneous classmates) and it was amazing. We were there for three, three and a half hours. My throat is still sore. I'm so happy, I didn't have a panic attack!! Well, not a full-on one anyways. I could tell my body was trying to do something because I was waaay shorter of breath than the situation warranted. But what matters is that I didn't have an attack, almost only counts in horseshoes...I think. I haven't played since I was a kid but I've heard that phrase oh-so-many times ;).
It's not just the fact that I'm in an upswing. I mean, me not having a panic attack isn't. Just because of the upswing... Anyways. It's because most of the people there were my friends and a safe space was created. I know these people like me, and that they wouldn't let someone else be mean to me, so I felt safe. It was glorious. We sang, we danced, we acted like fools, and I was happy.
So.
AJA
AJA
FIGHTING!
I'm not sure how I'm going to do in finals week, but I know that my GPA is acceptable for university, I have friends who are more than willing to help me study (even when it's long distance when I'm in another state), I have another friend I'll be able to see regularly when I'm in AZ (we're hoping to have an in-person hangout once a month), I have a personal statement for my uni app that I'm happy with, and I was able to socialize in a group while doing karaoke. Life is good.

Excitement and Trepidation

I'm pulling out of things a little currently. Too soon to tell if it's going to be brief or stick around. I'm obviously hoping for the latter. It helps to have friends you feel obliged to sometimes ;). I hadn't seen some friends in awhile, so I made a commitment to hang out with them. It was so fucking difficult to drag myself out of the house, but I did. It was worth it for the fellowship. There was also a birthday that I committed to. Having had the hang-out time the night before, I found it much easier to go to the shindig. It also helped that I'd committed to giving someone a ride, thus ensuring DOUBLE the obligation. Wonderful, delightful obligation that did much to put me in a more positive mindframe.
It was a wonderful party because it was for a wonderful person. The party went on for four hours and when it was done people still wanted to hang out and spend more time with the birthday girl. Because she is fantastic, wonderful, and awesome. I am truly blessed to have her in my life.
University application is in sight. So close. Finals are pretty damn close as well. Which is where the trepidation comes in. Particularly for Korean. My crazysauce insists that I'm a fraud, that I don't belong in this class and can't succeed. I'm currently telling my crazysauce to go fuck itself.
I'm planning for the future which just keeps getting brighter. I found out that one of my new (and swiftly becoming dear) friends is going to be moving to Southern California in about 3 or 4 months. The area she is moving to is going to be about a 7 hour drive (depending on traffic could pad a couple more on!) from where *I* am moving to. This is, for me, a completely reasonable distance for periodic weekend visits (going both directions). I am getting more and more excited for the future, but all the excitement leads me to anxiety too. No matter what I will find a way to make this work. I WILL.
AJA
AJA
FIGHTING!

Trucking along...barely

I'm still struggling with crazysauce right now. The hardest part currently is the paranoia. I doubt pretty much everyone, except for my absolute closest friends. And even with my absolute closest friends I still struggle with feelings of...fear that I'm annoying them maybe? Not that that makes sense right now, as school takes up AAAALLLLLLLLLL my time, so I don't really get a chance to chat with people much and sure as hell don't have an opportunity to overwhelm them with my emotions. The fear's still there though.
The harder thing to deal with is the fear that people are just tolerating me. Or that I've somehow completely offended someone and that they're avoiding me. Never mind the fact that, in the one instance that is at the top of my brain right now, they haven't really been talking to me much in the first place. Never mind the fact that I'm a bit over a decade older than them and they don't know how to talk to me. All that matters to my brain is that they talk A LOT with others in our mutual groups not with me. I understand that they don't know how to relate to me, I understand that we haven't been close from the start, I understand that we probably will never be close. I've understood that, but now my brain is convinced that they HATE me and there's nothing I can do to persuade it otherwise.
It's not even something that matters that much. It's really not. I just...I feel like I'm alienating everyone around me even though I know it doesn't make sense. Because I keep my mental state close, even though I'm open about my mental illness. I just...
Gah. I don't even know what the fuck I'm trying to say. I just feel adrift and isolated inside, while on the outside and I'm laughing and socializing more than I have in years.

Bootstrapping

I don't mean the linguistic term. I mean the act of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps (which is where the linguistic term comes from, I believe). It's what I do. It's what I have to do if I'm going to accomplish anything in my life. I've had people call me bipolar before, and I can see where they get that. But I'm not. I'm just doing everything in my power to keep from sinking into the doldrums. The doldrums where eating is a chore, where personal hygiene is iffy at best, where it seems impossible to see the light of day. It's so much WORK to try and stay out of them, but I do. Try, I mean. I have to try. My other option is just...giving up. I'll be honest, it isn't much of an option.
I was raised to believe that success was the only option. I've since come to realize that I can't really succeed without happiness, which has changed my focus a bit. Even with that change of focus though, I absolutely feel the NEED to succeed. I just...I don't know how to explain how deep-rooted those feelings are. As often as they lead me down the depression path, that determination has also pulled me out of the pit more than once.
I MUST succeed. I NEED to succeed. I WILL succeed.
Now that I'm on my own and completely focused on school and what I want from life' I AM succeeding too. Maybe not as completely as I would like, and maybe I'm working WAY harder than I feel I should need to, but I am succeeding. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I have to keep finding things that make me giggle and revel in them.
Life is so goddamn depressing though. I know I have family who voted against gay marriage in this election. Not "I think", it really is "I know". That hurts. It hurts that I have to sit there with my mouth zipped as much as possible while I see them...hurting me. They aren't hateful, not what I would consider homophobes, but their absolute conviction that being gay is as bad as murder is...depressing as fuck. Maybe they don't think of it that way, but that's really what they communicate.
I hadn't realized how much I'd grown away from my childhood beliefs, but I keep being confronted with it as I see my brothers (one of them 20) still toeing the party line. This absolute belief that evolution is a LIE, not erroneous, not a mistake, nothing like that, but a LIE...It hurts my brain. Having my brothers spout the "It's only a THEORY and they're teaching it in schools like it's FACT" thing...yeah.
Every so often I hope that I'll be able to come out to my family (though that would be a very COMPLICATED conversation), and I always come to the conclusion that I can either have a relationship with my family or I can be honest. I feel like I have to decide which is more important to me and it tears me up inside.
I have to get ready for school now. I just want to sit here, curl up in a little ball, and...I don't know. Something. But I have to get ready. I have to get to school because I don't miss days. So far I've managed to keep things under control well enough that I haven't had to stay home sick because of crazy. God I hope I can keep this up.

sucktastic yo

Went dancing with my friends today (including a couple new ones). And by that I mean I went with my friends and did shit until my body crapped out less than 10 minutes in. At which point I tried doing stationary bike for a bit while they danced. That lasted maybe 5 minutes. I almost cried while I was watching them learn a new dance.
It's so frustrating to want to do things and not be able to. I'm hanging onto the idea of Arizona like a lifeline, but I know it's not a magic wand. I'm not going to move to Arizona and suddenly be able to do things. I'm going to move to Arizona and have to work REALLY HARD to get myself healthy again. I'm going to have to work out and gradually build myself back up to the strength I used to have (Oh so long ago!). And it's not a guarantee. I could move there and have little to no improvement. I'm still going to have my dental issues because I can't afford the surgery required (yay wisdom teeth rotting in my mouth! :D /sarcasm). I'm still going to be horribly knock-kneed. I'm still going to be massively obese. I'm still going to be crazy. I'm still...
When I think of all the things that I'm "still" gonna be it's downright frustrating. I'm moving there to have a CHANCE, but sometimes it feels like a vain hope. It's like, I can't help thinking in the back of my head "this is going to fall through, you're not going to make it there." or "you're going to get there and it won't help your health AT ALL." or worse of all "You're just a lazy fucking bitch, all this shit is in your head because you don't want to do the WORK required to be skinny and you're still going to be lazy when you move there."
The biggest fight for respect I have is with myself. Nobody thinks littler of me than I do. It's always this nagging voice in the back of my head. "You're unattractive, lazy, stupid, fat, and just plain WRONG." "You're not really poly, you just can't function in a normal, healthy relationship." "You're deluding yourself, you're not queer." Crazy shit. Shit that doesn't make sense. I know it's crazytown because there's no way in HELL I would have CHOSEN to be not-straight with my family. Seriously. I'd rather be straight-up asexual, in all honesty. If I had a CHOICE.
I just don't know what to do when i'm being hammered by crazytown AND fibro. I have heard nothing from SS. I think I missed the deadline for the stupid-ass statement they wanted me to make. How's this for a statement? "I can't do all this shit you're asking me because I'm batshit crazy and have fibro and miss your deadlines because I'm doing this BY MYSELF. Because I don't have the money for a lawyer and my family sure as hell won't help me, because they're half-convinced I'm overreacting. Or lazy. So will you just cut me some fucking slack and HELP ME?!!?"
I have to say "Fighting!" I have to believe in myself. But it's so fucking hard.

So much

I had a fantastic weekend. I probably (definitely) overdid it, but it was more than worth it. I got a respectable chunk of homework done and am a little ahead in some of my homework. I danced, I socialized, I snuggled friends I haven't seen in too long, and just generally grinned my face off. I also ended up pondering things. I am quite tired and trying to stay awake so as to get a few more things done.
One of the things I've been pondering is social interaction. Ever since I can remember I've been kind of awkward at it. I used to piss people off by, uh, being a little too honest. I made a girl in my Girl Scout troop very unhappy when she made an offhand comment about our "friendship" and I said "But we're not friends." Why? Because we weren't. She didn't even like me all that much, our moms worked together and were friends so we were in Girl Scouts together. That's when I learned you're supposed to lie to people. BUT, you can't get caught at it.
My dad had me read How To Win Friends And Influence People at a fairly young age. I couldn't tell you how young, because I've got a memory like a broken sieve. It really taught me a lot about getting along in "normal" society. I'm planning on replacing my copy soon.
I used to do the social chameleon thing, whatever someone wanted me to be I'd try (and fail) to be. I gave up because I wasn't very good at it. But I still sometimes catch myself doing chameleon-y stuff in social settings. I think it's because I still take my cues from other people. I have some friends I admire and try to emulate. Sometimes in social situations i have to REALLY watch myself, because I'll mimic their reactions. Not because I'm trying to mock them, or want to be them, it's just...sometimes I just don't know the "proper" reaction, so my instinct is to copy someone I know to be more adept than myself.
What's really funny to me is that people seem to think I'm this...I dunno...charming social adept. I like people, I really do. I love meeting new people. I love talking to them. I love the interaction. But sometimes it's too much for me, and that's why I have finely honed auto-responses for when my brain is going bye-bye. Maybe that's why I have the reputation I do. I don't know. People seem to like me, at least surface level. It's once they start to get to know me better that I weird them out and they take off. Or they stick around because I'm fun, and when I start to have one flare-up or another and cease to be "fun"....they bail.
I'm going to bed soon, hopefully this post will get enough stuff out of my brain to sleep.

Oh Fibro

I've actually been vlogging elsewhere about my fibro, but honestly, I'm too tired right now to sit down and do a video. I will at some point in the next week, but right now...not so much. :/ My fibro is flaring. I've been in a lot of physical pain, I'm constantly exhausted, and I'm moving through a fog. My brain needs a new starter, it's just clickclickclickclick with no ignition. I've fallen behind in my schoolwork a bit. It's not an insurmountable bit, but it's still a bit. I stay at school late because I can keep myself awake there. The minute I get home my body is just like "Okay, bedtime!" with no respect for what I need to get done. Sometimes my body has been sending me to bed without dinner. No matter how much or little sleep I get this week, I'm always tired. I'm draggin' draggin' draggin'. I think longingly of the potential of Arizona. I know I'll still have problems, my health is in the pits and it's going to take time to improve it, but... I just anticipate not having to kill my liver with anti-inflammatories on a daily basis.
I'm going dancing with my friends at the Y. The aerobics room is free in the morning, so we can dance in front of a huge mirror as we make fools of ourselves trying to learn dance steps. I may only last ten minutes, but that time with friends is invaluable. I may last only 5 minutes, but I don't care, I'm still going.
I have a birthday party to go to tonight, and I'm probably going to have to caffeinate just to get there. I don't know if caffeine helps my pain levels (I mean, it usually seems to, but that could be my mood it's affecting, you know?), but I've never really known it to hurt (unless I have a headache, sometimes it can then).
I'm just trying to chant "Aja! Aja! Fighting!" and "You can do eet!" to get through this flare. I mean, when the flare is done I'll still be in pain, but it will be MANAGEABLE pain. Pain I'm used to, pain i can cope with. My brain is so muzzy right now that while it was shouting at me/itself "Something's following you and is going to KILL YOU!!", my (and my brain's) response was "Really? That's nice."

the feels

I have, as they say, "all the feels" right now. Except they're mostly not the good feels. I'm taking another communications class this quarter (Intro to) and we have been given an assignment about performing our identity. I did a rambly video, basically enumerating all my "identities". Then I decided it was a cop-out and decided to do something else. Something I made a video for because just words don't communicate it. I want my classmates to see how it affects me. Then I started getting all panicky because what if she decided to show them in class and I'd have to lead a discussion about something I can't share without tears. The only thing worse than talking in front of people is crying in front of them, and both the subject and stress make me cry.
I emailed the teacher and if she says we don't have to present in class I'm going to submit the video I made for this.

I'm out...but I'm not.
I told my mom that I was neither straight nor monogamous
She told me not to tell the family
and prays for my soul every night.
At school I say proudly who and what I am
while secretly fearing
that it will get back to my family
I say proudly who I am
and then double-check every internet post
video
link
To make sure my father doesn't catch on
I hope someday to meet someone
someone I can spend my life with
not someone who completes me
someone who enriches me
and I don't care what their gender might be
except for when I dream
I dream I fall in love with a girl
and we want to get married
and when I invite my family
to this dream wedding...
They reject me.
In these dreams I have children
children who will never know half their family
and in my dreams I decide it's better to be alone.

Lightbulb moment

So the past week or two have (has?) been difficult. My crazysauce is dominant and I'm having to force myself not to bolt when I'm walking outside (I don't always succeed). It is DEFINITELY affecting my performance at school. But I've been pulling through (barely in some cases). Math was taking a huge hit. I just wasn't processing things on concepts that I know I know. It's like, I understood the idea, but not the application thereof.
I had a quiz today and I'm not done with all the classwork (we submit electronically). I was freaking out a little and I was determined to work hard on it yesterday before my hair appointment (which ended up getting cancelled). Instead I geeked out with my classmate (who is rapidly becoming a friend) for FOUR HOURS. It was an accident, but it was a very good decision. I woke up this morning able to math. When I went outside to the other fridge to fetch my yogurt (if I don't put it there my brothers eat it all) I was able to suppress my panic reflex easier than I have in WEEKS.
It's not news to me that reducing stress helps my mental health (and processes!), but it seems like I always forget. I get so focused on what needs to get done that...I basically forget that *I* have to be in working order to get those things done. Scheduling geek out time won't work, but I need to be better about embracing destressers. Yes, my kdramas and such are a distraction, but you know what? If I'm going to get good grades those distractions are neccessary.
AJA!
AJA!
FIGHTING!

Greeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaat

I haven't just sidelined my friend's cancer, I'm coming to terms with it. The day I posted I was looking at my stats and it showed that someone had read my pondering in immortality. I read it and...yeah, was reminded. I was reminded of how much of her will live on even if she dies. So thank you to whoever read that. I also want to say thank you to the people that reminded me that there is always hope even if doctors can't see it. I won't say I'm "good" no matter what happens, but...I think I'm in a better place about it...
Which is NOT to say my brain is in a good place. Because it's not. Have you ever had that moment when anxiety/panic kicks in and you can't stop yourself for booking it to the door in an effort to get inside where it's safe because your brain has decided that something (I'm not going to say zombies, but probably zombies) is after you? Yeah, that was me this morning. I'm inside, in my room, trying to psych myself up for going out the front door...and speedwalking to my car because fuck if I can control my brain. *sigh*
 I need to go into the kitchen to make Tang. I have a problem with keeping hydrated and don't like drinking plain water, so Tang it is. If I can do that I can make it out the door. My mental Rob Schneider is shouting "You Can Do EET!", but I think he's also hiding so that the zombies get me first.
Yay crazy! Hilarious...when it's not happening :/ .

Fucking Cancer.

I'm so sick of losing people to cancer. It's not fucking fair. I love them, I'd die for them, but there's nothing I can do when the doctors come out with their diagnosis. Nothing. I can hug them and try to stay upbeat. I can be patient when they're crabby as hell, but there's nothing I can DO.
My grandfather recently came out on top after a bout with cancer, my step-grandpa didn't fare so well (almost twenty years ago now...holy shit). Step-grandpa might have survived the cancer if the treatment hadn't killed him. Right now it's hitting me harder, because the person in question is not only young (just shy of ten years younger than my mother), she also has a young boy. This woman...Lord, this woman treated me like one of her kids. She was my supervisor at work, but when I had car issues and had no way to get home...she took me into her home, fed me (kind of forcefully actually >.<), and gave me a place to sleep. When I woke up the next morning it was to find that she had gotten up early so she could go to the store and buy me a new shirt for work that day. I cheered her on as she went through the process to have her first marriage officially annulled with the Catholic Church so she could wed her husband (2nd husband that she had been married to for years) in an actual church wedding and attend her son's confirmation (I think that's what it's called, I'm not Catholic). She was diagnosed with cancer before the process was finished, and I remember how scared we were that she wouldn't make it to the big day. Well, okay, I wasn't scared, I was fucking pissed as hell and cussing and making threats about what I'd do to the asshole doctors who hadn't caught the cancer when she had been trying to figure out what was wrong with her for over TWO YEARS if she didn't make it to her wedding. It got kind of graphic. I may have watched a few too many action/fantasy movies around that time. It got really creative too.
But she made it to her wedding. I gave her a salsa CD. Whenever good dance music would come on the radio, she'd start salsaing up and down the teller line. Did I mention that she's Brazilian? She is. Very. She was fiery and we clashed, but we respected each other. I think we both understood that our clashes of temper were inevitable and easily moved past them. She was...I don't know, in some ways she was the person I wished I could be. I won't deny, after meeting her I realized why I resented my mother and what she didn't provide me emotionally.
I would gladly give up ten, twenty years of my life for this woman. If I could translate some of my lifespan to her I would. I come from long-lived families on both sides. They lived very long for their generations, and some of them are still alive. I can spare a decade or two for her to see her son graduate from high school.
I want to hate the doctors for saying there's no hope. There HAS to be hope, there has to be SOMETHING. Hope is the driving force of my life, but in instances like this... It doesn't matter how much hope you have, it's not going to cure cancer.

Good Exhausted

There's good exhausted and bad exhausted. Bad exhausted makes me sick and keeps me from doing what I want or NEED to do. Good exhausted is when I can't do much more, but I've been able to accomplish what I wanted. This is a week of good exhaustion.
I'm doing the school thing without meds. No antidepressants. No antianxiety meds. I can't afford the doctor's visit and he can't renew my prescription until I go. He's actually been really understanding. It's been almost a year since my last visit and I'm supposed to have a medication management appointment every six. But...I can't afford the visit. So I go without.
So far the major difference seems to be in my degree of exhaustion. I'm always tired, but never quite this much. I'm also a lot sweatier, which...yeah, anxiety. I'm not too stinky, thankfully! That is a big "thankfully" as I'm currently unable to use any kind of deodorant (yay sensitive skin!). I've been keeping things together, though I had a close call when I thought I wasn't going to get a spot in back. I get preferred seating thanks to access services, but I would have had to kick someone out of their seat and....yeah. Thankfully it was all an illusion and I was able to snag  the last seat in the back row. Note to self: Don't be so fucking nice, let them get the door themselves, get your ass in there, and get your goddamn seat!
The fighting spirit is still up and moving. Just have to maintain it.

Fall Quarter 2012

Oh yeah, coming up fast. Monday as a matter of fact! Very excited. I feel a little unprepared, but I feel like that at the beginning of every quarter. I'm wishing my M-F math class wasn't in the morning, but I heard good things about this teacher so I'm waking up early. I haven't taken a math class in ten years and I have an anxiety disorder, having a good teacher is going to be the difference between passing and failing for me. :/
My pop culture communications class was cancelled. Sad face. But I still managed to get into another class with the same teacher. She is AMAZING. I've learned that it's important to have good teachers who make you feel safe when you have Panic Disorder. She does. I've had good teachers who just couldn't create that kind of environment, and I have had crappy teachers who could. Just to clarify.
SO EXCITED FOR KOREAN. I can't even express how excited and anxious I am. I can usually *hear* the different phonemes okay, it's just duplicating them where I have trouble. Well...okay, I don't *know* if I have trouble or if I just *feel* like I have trouble. Still excited though. I've got everything necessary installed on my computer (I think). The only thing I need to do is get the keyboard stickers. :D :D :D
I can remember hating the start of the school year when I was younger. Having something that excites passion as your goal? Very awesome. Makes school a fun adventure instead of a chore. I'm even looking forward to the chore classes *koffmathkoff* because they help push me down the path I want :).
Tired, awake, excited, anticipatory, FIGHTING!

The Shining Future

So everything in my life right now seems to be revolving around college and the future. I'm okay with that :). I'm still having a bit of a slump, but I'm coming out of it a bit (fingers crossed, knock wood). The future looks bright and hope is getting her breath back after having it knocked out of her. I'm going to be a PAID conversation partner this quarter :). I don't know how much I'll be making, but I don't really care. Why? Because I was going to be doing it for free *anyways*, anything I get is a bonus ;). Well, okay, not exactly a conversation partner, I'll be running conversation groups. Which, by the way, is a totally new thing (WHICH IS SO COOL).
I'm also trying to help my little Vietnamese bfam get squared away before I move to Arizona. He's a great kid, but it's...He just doesn't know how to stand up for himself, or go out and get what he wants. He has a problem speaking to people in authority. I had to go with him to a bunch of little meetings and appointments at the college over the last week or so. I want to give him a starting point to go from, not plan his life. I almost think he'd be happier if I just told him "This is what you're doing!". However, telling him what to do won't help him grow a backbone for the future. He's a good kid, he's just...a kid.
So that's something that's taking a fair amount of time, it's like pulling teeth to get a firm response out of him! But we're getting there. We're starting the university hunt for him and I've managed to get him to at least *think* about East Coast schools. This is important because his parents want him to get into a top 100 university, and he just wanted too look at TWO states! Yeah, need more options honey. So I'm finding universities that fit his and his parent's criteria (his parents: Pre med, top 100 school. his: Somewhere where it's not hot all the time, that has decent public transportation, has a nutrition program, and is fashionable ;) ).
I'm starting to focus on the whole transfer process. I need to do REALLY well this quarter so I can bring my GPA up. So at the end of the quarter I'll be putting in my application at the University of Arizona. This also gives me time to work on stuff like a personal statement/application essay. "Pick me because I'm fucking awesome and will work my ass off" probably isn't going to cut it. Unfortunately. It's exciting, exhilarating, and scary.
I'm also looking at what I'm going to do for the next few years. I'm looking at what the prices there are like, and wondering if it's possible that I'll be able to hold down a job. I really want it to be possible because I don't want to be on government aid. AT ALL. (which, by the way, I haven't heard anything else about lately). I want to work hard, study hard, and succeed. Success, for me, means being self-sufficient.
All geared up for the quarter to come, resigned to math, excited for Korean, and ecstatic about running my new conversation group.
Aja! Fighting!

My hair

If it hasn't been clear, I'm in a bit of a slump. My temper is...easily triggered, but I'm managing to swallow most of my reactions. I vent on the internet and try to spend as little time with my family as possible. It's not that they're horrible (though insensitive and ignorant at times), it's just...we're in such close proximity all the time that we periodically get on each other's nerves ANYWAYS. My current state means it just effects me more.
The new quarter is starting soon, and I'm beginning to look at what I need to do to transfer to the University of Arizona. I need to get in. So badly. I don't know what's happening with social security. I don't know how I'm going to do at school with no meds to ease my way. I...just need this one thing to go smoothly. I've had a lot of random roadblocks thrown my way lately and, even though they've mostly been trivial matters, it's getting to me.
My fibro isn't too bad lately, but I'm trying to be more physical and dance and stuff and...am paying the usual sort of cost. It's okay. It's also totally worth it.
So why is the title of this post "My Hair"? Well, hypothetical reader, I'll tell you. I've not so jokingly told people in the past that you can gauge my mental condition by the length of my hair. If it abruptly goes short, it means I've gone into a slump where I forget to brush my hair (we won't discuss the other personal hygiene issues that sometimes accompany the situation). So the hair has matted and I've chopped or had it chopped off. The times I've chopped it myself were...entertaining ;). Particularly the summer time ponytail episode. That time it hadn't matted, the summer weather had just *really* gotten to me. To say it was uneven would be an hilarious understatement.
I've been having moments where it's dawned on me that I haven't brushed my hair in a couple of days. Yesterday...actually, day before yesterday at this point...in any case, whatever day it was, i finally hit a moment where I couldn't just brush the tangles out. Had to cut a small mat out. I have beautiful hair, and it's one of my few vanities. It's been a matter of pride to have my hair this long. I don't think it's been this long in...at least six years, possibly closer to thirteen. But I might have to chop it, because I can't take care of it.
If I do...If I do have to chop my hair off because of mental health I plan on dyeing it an outlandish colour. Because I've never been able to. I won't let it be a defeat, it will merely be an opportunity. If I have to chop my hair off, I will chop it SHORT (and donate to locks of love if the hair isn't too damaged) and dye it lavender.

Cooking

I've been on the receiving end of teasing about my cooking for awhile. My ex used to get kind of malicious about it, going on about my ineptitude. After all the years of that, even my mother had forgotten that I actually do know how to cook. In fact, I made my first solo dish when I was six years old (lentil soup and I was incredibly proud of myself). Needing a recipe does not make you a bad cook. It may mean that you'll never be a chef, but that's never been on my list of "if only"s so whatever.
My mom still teases me about my lack of enthusiasm for cooking. She calls me lazy. It actually does bother me a little. The thing is, I do like cooking. I like cooking when I can try to make new dishes and not have to worry about what other people want. These occasions are few and far between. An added impediment is that if I don't make something when I want to, I just forget about it. So it never gets made. I freely admit that I have the attention span of a gnat. I'm working on it, but it is an issue.
Another issue (and one that my mom can't chide me about since she does it even more than I do) is that I sometimes forget that I'm cooking. Multi-tasking is not my friend when it comes to cooking. I need to stay in the kitchen with a book if I'm going to cook or I'll get distracted (have I mentioned my attention span?). I also have a memory like  a broken sieve, so there's that too.
My mom also likes to go on about my bad food choices. The thing is...if I have healthy food on hand, generally speaking, it's what I prefer. Frozen blueberres? Omnomnom. Apples, strawberries, grapes, peas (particularly frozen, I know it's weird), baby carrots, hummus (mmmm....red pepper hummus....), yogurt (not that ultra processed stuff, REAL yogurt), all of these are foods that I love. But living in a house with four other people...yeah. Stuff doesn't stick around. I also try to be courteous and not nom everything I love all by myself.
If I lived on my own and money wasn't a factor, my freezers would be full of frozen fruit (and peas nomnomnom) and I would make my own snack boxes. I won't lie, I'd still probably eat some junk. But I grew up on fresh and frozen fruit and home-canned veggies. It's what my taste buds love.
I've just lost my train of thought (predictably) and can't remember where I was going with this. I only started writing it because I went to get something to eat and the only thing that didn't require tons of prep time (HUNGRY NOW) was lunchables and mac and cheese. And frozen blueberries, but my mom gets pissy when I eat them all (which, uh, has happened). So I ate a lunchable, was still hungry, and made some mac and cheese. Which my mom will be all judge-y about "You need to make better food choices!"
So...yeah. Blecch. Too bad I'm not cute enough to have a sugar daddy...well, I suppose the whole "mostly asexual" thing would be an impediment as well.
I suppose I'm off to watch some more Doctor Who (currently on the Tom Baker years :D ) and eat some mac and cheese. I'd watch my kdrama, but my fave streaming site doesn't seem to like me today :/. I won't lie, one of the reasons I'm taking Korean is so I don't have to wait for subtitles ;) (we'll see if I can learn the language well enough!). (wow, is it just me or did I use a LOT of parentheses in this post?)

September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day

Trigger warning-because I'm talking about suicide and just talking about it can cause people to flashback. I would add to this trigger warning that I have never been suicidal. Also trigger warning for talking about selfharm. Also also, if I ever talk about something that doesn't have a trigger warning and should, please let me know.

My family (maternal line)

My grandfather is kind of an asshole, but he's gotten better over the years. He and I have butted heads many a time, but we love each other. He doesn't understand me, but he seems to have decided that that doesn't matter. We don't talk about anything much, we just sit together and love each other.
My grandmother is kind of a heinous bitch. She's always mean, but funny. So that when she says something horrible she can retreat to the sanctuary of humour. I love her anyways and acknowledge that a good chunk of who I am comes from her...which is why I'm so very careful NOT to be her. I have as much venom in me as she does in her, but I recognize that that's NOT OKAY. So she's the only person I let the venom loose on, and only when she's doing it to family member. She rarely does it to me, but when she does it's more bitchy than funny.
My step-father is an incredibly sweet man, but...he has a temper and he has communication issues. Overall, I would say he is the parent who's most okay with who I am...I think. I don't know if my mother told him anything after I came out to her, so maybe he's not. He is Republican and votes the party, which means he's voting for people who seem to hate everything about me. He's a caring person who'd give you the shirt off his back.
My mother doesn't have a malicious bone in her body and has what my aunt calls an "innocent" sense of humour. I sometimes have to explain jokes. She loves me, but she doesn't understand me. She should never have had children because she's kind of shitty at parenting. She doesn't know how to handle my infirmities, and how seriously she takes them is really hard to figure out. She thinks I'm going to hell and that I've turned away from God.
My older brother is a sanctimonious prick who knows everything and can't mind his own goddamn business He is incredibly disrespectful at times, and I don't appreciate how he talks down to our parents. AT ALL. .When he pulls that shit on me I have to leave the room. He gets my ire up SO MUCH, that if I don't leave I will say something that will start drama that will last until I move. He kind of thinks I'm lazy and periodically makes belittling comments about my infirmities. He loves me, but he often doesn't seem to like me or my presence. He still gave up his room for me and tries to understand me, as well as helping me out with tangible things like taking care of the car and moving stuff.
My other brother just kind of goes with the flow. He's very much like his father, and I have the least bad to say about him. He needs to mind our parents better, and he sometimes thinks my infirmities are just laziness. But...when I'm cramping up, when my fibro is flaring, he is always willing to try and massage the knots out. When my anxiety is flaring and I can't leave the house by myself...he is usually willing to come with me so I have that safety blanket. That said, he's still a sixteen year old boy.
My aunts are both very different people, but they've made life choices that have left them living solo. One of them is a bitter old hag and the other is sweet and ineffectual. They don't have much to do with my life. Neither do my cousins.

O! The possibilities

I'm still not in the best headspace (yay lack of meds!) but things keep happening to encourage me. I won't talk about the biggest one because it may not happen. Though I have been trumpeting it to my friends because excitement. I may or may not remember to blog about it if it happens, so you may wonder FOREVER.
One fantabulous development is that Wendy's daughter (who I am also friends with) might be going to college in Tucson, which MEANS...I may still be living with a friend even if I DO have to live in Tucson! Of all the possible Arizona-living-situation results, this would be the most ideal. We get along well, we've got a lot of shared interests, and (very importantly) she's a carer just like her mom and step-dad. I think we would take good care of each other and I think she would make sure I take my meds and vihtermins. Plus, living with another Korean entertainment fan would make fangirling SO FUN. I would save a LOT on gas and still have someone I know around (yay not living with strangers!). I also think we'd be good at encouraging each other to finish goals. To top things off, she is an EXCELLENT cuddle-buddy. So fingers crossed.
I'm also going to get a chance to test drive teaching english...sort of. They're going to be trying conversation groups (as opposed to one-on-one) and I'm the conversation partner who's going to be doing it :D. My friends and I have proven that conversation groups work better for some people. So that is groovy as HELL.
I'm keeping my head up as best I can, but I can feel the downswing lurking beneath. Good days are like life preservers and bad days...well...they suck. I'm a moment from tears lately, but that's just something I have to deal with. Mostly by crying. Hope is keeping my head up, hope is keeping me going, but GODdamn I'm tired.
FIGHTING.

So, yeah.

I have a car now, yaaaay! This is progress on the path to Arizona. I've also been looking at apartments and stuff near(ish) the university, just to price things out. I like to be prepared for every eventuality. My friends are happy to have me stay with them, but we all know that it may not be practical. We'll see how everything works out financially.
Which leads nicely into the next topic. More stress crying :D :D. Woohoo. *sigh* Also, more whatthefuckery. So. Yeah. Social Security. I finally called the office for clarification and ended up stress crying on the phone. I kept apologizing in the midst of my tears, trying to reassure the guy that I wasn't upset and that this was just a stress reaction. I don't think he believed me at first, not until I got the stress crying under control. He was really nice, calmed my fears, reassured me that I was doing the right stuff and managed to hide really well how much I was annoying him. :) I'm being honest here, he did a very good job, I've just had years of experience of catching the cues.
Anyways, with all these tears and drama...I apparently hallucinated the fact that paperwork had the wrong name on it. What. The. FUCK. I mean, I'm glad I talked to the guy, I feel reassured, but STILL. This has proven to me that I really ought to have someone helping me with this and that I'm probably going to fuck things up. *sigh* C'est la vie.
I'm tired and thus the post ends abruptly.

Anxiety Dreams, Yay!

So...yeah, anxiety dreams are annoying as hell. I call them anxiety dreams, but they're not exactly. It's hard to explain. If they were actual dreams, I would just call them bad dreams or nightmares. Anxiety dreams...are different. They're kind of like daydreams, but not. I hate the ones of the type I'm currently have the most, I think.
These anxiety dreams always happen late at night (or in the wee hours), usually after I have tried, unsuccessfully, to get to sleep. I will be lying in the dark and my mind will wander those lovely, dark, depressing, anxiety-inducing paths. I will lie there and my mind will go through every scenario of failure it can think of. I won't actually be asleep, but I will have particularly vivid "daydreams" that detail everything that will go wrong. I will usually become aware of what I'm doing only because my leg will be jiggling so hard it makes noise. Yeah, that whole "restless leg" thing may annoy people, but I appreciate it at moments like these. It clues me in to what's going on. If I clue in I can *maybe* do something about it. Even if that something is just giving up the attempt at sleep. If I give up the attempt at sleep I have a chance to distract myself.
I've been avoiding making the call to the social security office. Partially because I hate talking on the phone to people who unintentionally steamroller me into doing things (I mean, they have no real way of knowing that I have major difficulty disagreeing with them, but the effect is still the same :/ ). Partially because...I've been feeling good. I had this random period of a week where, for the first time in over a year, I felt like "Hey, I can totally work and get a job and support myself and not have to go on government aid!". It felt really good...until I quite abruptly crashed.
It was a different experience, that's for sure. I mean, I tend to be overconfident and overestimate what I can do, but nothing like this. It kind of reminded me of what a friend described the "highs" of being bipolar were like. Only not. It's so hard to explain these things, but I feel compelled to. Like...if I explain them maybe I can make sense of them and conquer them. In any case, it was a new and annoying experience. It wasn't just mental/emotional, I felt really good physically for that week. Which was nice.
So now I'll have to call social security and...BAH. I'll probably have to figure out a time to go in and talk to someone, because talking over the phone isn't working. Which means I'll have to find someone to go with me because, yeah, crazy. This is the difficulty, because my mom is not an option. She doesn't think I can get on disability (even though she's the one who encouraged me to apply). I can't help but think, based on little things my family members have said, that my family honestly thinks that I'm lazy. That if I'd just get off my ass and go to a doctor then he'll give me a magic pill that will make me ALL BETTER. My mom, at least, takes the physical side seriously. Most of the time. But I...I love her, but I don't entirely trust her and her opinion of me. Which makes the idea of her going with me (if she even WOULD (which is a whole 'nother story)) less than optimal.
Thus the anxiety dreams come into play. These little waking nightmares, you'd think they'd have me not getting aid and homeless in the streets or something. I mean, that would make sense, right? Nope. In every one I end up on disability. AND NEED IT. I end up going to Arizona and failing. Or if not fully failing, failing enough that I need a keeper. Why? Because I probably do. Personal hygiene is becoming a problem again. Eating is a problem again (fast and binge, fast and binge, food is disgusting because I'm a fat bitch who doesn't NEED to be eating, fast and binge, the thought of food turns my stomach, etc. etc. ad nauseum). I live in a haze punctuated by periods of physical discomfort as my fibro makes itself known.
At times like these it's hard to believe the hope that drives me. It's hard to believe that I can have a future, or at least one of the futures that I *WANT*. It's impossible to believe that someday I could go a day, DAYS, without pain. I'm so grateful for auto-pilot at moments like these, because it's the only thing that keeps the momentum going. Hell, auto-pilot is the only reason I was able to stay EMPLOYED for as long as I did. It's funny, I was known as the customer service queen. Customers loved me. There were days when I couldn't tell you what I'd done that day. Nobody noticed. Because my auto-pilot is DAMNED good.
I'm starting to ramble. Because it's the wee hours, I'm tired, I don't feel good, and my brain hates me. I'd planned on writing a post about my anxiety dreams about the fibro and related crazytown-ness, but apparently it wasn't to be. I would say "Fighting!", but I'm just too damn tired to fight right now. I'd rather have some cheesecake and watch movies. "Cheesecake, just what your fatass needs," says my oh-so-helpful brain. *sigh*
It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. I know it from past experience. I know I know it. I just wish it would hurry up and get better NOW.

It gets better?

Periodically I start watching "It gets better" videos, because they are both uplifting and sad. Um, if you're not aware, the "It Gets Better" thing was started by Dan Savage (which is one of the reasons I respect the man, even if I'm not his biggest fan) in response to a rash of teen suicides by gay teens and teens who were perceived to be gay. It's powerful. People from all over the world, gay, straight, what-have-you, make these videos. They tell kids "Hold on. It gets better. Have hope and please stay alive." It's a powerful movement because it's not "just" celebrities. It's normal people. People from different countries, walks-of-life, ethnicities, orientations, and all different permutations of gender. All these strangers saying "Please stay on this planet." I've never been suicidal, but when I'm feeling depressed it helps me to know that there's a lot in the human race that is very worthwhile.
Then I get all depressed, because I would love to make a video but I don't know that I can. What am I going to say? "It gets better! I mean, you may end up closeted to your parents for the rest of your life, or they may ask you not to tell anyone, but it gets better!" I'm not exactly a shining example of how it gets better in that respect. I mean, heck, I was asexual in high school. I usually say "pretty much asexual", but the fact of the matter was that in my behaviour, reactions, and (lack of) attractions I *was* asexual. So what can I tell these kids about high school? I mean, high school sucked for me and I was bullied. But I was bullied because I was a nerd (the only people who realized I was a geek were geeks) and a reader. I wasn't a social person and I didn't date. I got called "gay" a lot, because my friends were girls and I wasn't dating...so logically that meant I was gay...because it's weird for a girl to be friends with other girls? :/ Anyways.
I feel for these kids, I do. So very much. But what can I say to them? "Yeah, I got called gay a lot in high school and I was bullied for being a nerd. Oh! And my conservative Christian father basically told me that he thought a butch lesbian was going to convert me to the dark side and abuse me. But it gets better! Y'know, except for marrying the first guy you ever kiss and developing an unhealthy and abusive relationship...then finding out you like girls...among other things." I mean, the liking girls thing wasn't bad, it was just a shock and has made the intervening years EVEN MORE awkward. Because now I'm confused by signals sent by ALL THE GENDERS. ;)
I still want to reach out to them. But what can I say? "Everybody says it gets better, and I don't know if they're right or not. But don't you owe it to yourself to find out?"

Oh good fucking grief

FUCK.
fucken fuckity fuck fuck.
*sigh*
Of course *this* would be the post to follow the "woohoo, we're fucking awesome!" post I just fucking wrote. Of course. Good fucking grief.
Gah.
So.
So I'm not working currently because YAY CRAZY. I'm able to go to school because of medication and an excellent disability services center (as well as supremely fortunate teacher choices). I applied for social security disability because I need to have money. I actually wanted to apply for the shorter term ssi but had a pension I couldn't touch at the time that put me over the resources limit. The pension finally cashed out, I went to apply for ssi. Thanks to fibro flares and summer weather, I am not entirely with it. Long story short I was told I had to reapply for ssd in order to apply for ssi. I had my phone interview today and apparently I'm now doing the court appeal for ssd. Which I don't think is what I was supposed to do.
Here's the thing (and I hate this about myself), while I am turning into a fairly confident person there are still some situations where...and this embarassing...I turn into a complete helpless female. I get so scattered and overwhelmed that I apparently inspire protective reactions and am immediately "managed" for my own good. Now, I will say that I have gotten MUCH better over the years, but with my crazy it's inevitable that I fall into that mode. It's embarrassing (BUT NOT SHAMEFUL).
The guy on the phone was even calling me kiddo and reassuring me. Which was sweet. But just made me feel like an IDIOT when I emerged from my "holyshitcrapfuckIdon'tknowwhattodo" fog. I hate feeling like this. The same thing always happens (and is part of why I'm not currently able to work :/ ), I start doing something or talking about something and my brain goes "clickclickcrap" and I start getting this little panic-y feeling. My brain keeps clicking and I get lost in what I'm saying or doing, I usually start rambling. At this point I could say *anything*, there's almost a disconnect between my brain and my mouth. Don't ask me anything that will hurt your feelings at this point, because my filter is non-existent. Even if you ask me a question, there's no guarantee that I'm going to really understand it and I may start rambling about something completely unrelated. It's a fog of panic (yay panic disorder!) that just reinforces itself. My friends just let me ramble and I'll usually pull myself out of it enough to stop talking (hours later). Some of my friends can even hold conversations with me in this mode (oddly enough I can usually remember what they've said even if I don't *entirely* remember what I've said).
So now, thanks to "clickclickcrap" I am apparently going to have a court date. Woo fucking hoo. Just what I fucking needed. *headdesk* Yay me.
FOR THE RECORD, I am not ashamed of this I'm just embarrassed and frustrated. Someday maybe it won't happen, but I don't really believe that. I'm just hoping that someday I'll be able to direct it well enough that I won't have people rescuing me for my own good. *sigh*.
The thing is, in the back of my mind I sometimes wonder if they're right that I need rescuing for my own good. I know that I have this aversion to being on any kind of government aid (thanks daddy!), and I know this aversion is just causing me to shoot myself in the foot. But I can't help it. My dad would always go on these little rants about the useless people on welfare and disability. HE would always know some exceptions to the rule, but it was clear that anyone who was on government aid was useless and lazy. He had to go on seasonal unemployment at one point and acknowledged that maybe God was trying to tell him something...but it didn't stop him from going on the same as ever.
I know I need money to live. I also know that if I do end up on any sort of government aid I'm going to need a payee because I...just do.
My mom just came in and now I've got HER all confused because we are apparently having two entirely different conversations when we talk. Yay! My crazy is contagious! *cheesy grin* *sarcastic double thumbs up*.
I'm just going to stop talking now. Well, for now ;).

Pondering a Pet Peeve

I wish people would stop acting like having a mental illness and/or not being neurotypical were something to be ashamed of. They're not. If there's not shame in having red hair, blonde hair, black hair, then why on EARTH should there be any shame in a brain the works differently? After all, what is normal? As I recently said in a (rather pointed) comment on a friend's photo (not to them, and not related to my current topic) "Normality is a myth created by boring people." I stand by that statement too. Anyone who uses the pedestal of "normal" to look down on weirdos is inevitably a boring person...or a liar. A closeted freak if you will. Someone who claims the word "normal" for themselves when mainstream society says they are anything but...THEM I like ;).
There is no shame in having a mental illness. I understand feeling embarrassment when someone witnesses a panic attack. I totally understand that. But that is different than shame. Shall we visit dictionary.com for a moment? Let's. It'll be a learning adventure! *cheesy smile*

1.the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another

2.susceptibility to this feeling:

3.disgrace; ignominy

4.a fact or circumstance bringing disgrace or regret

 

How is a chemical imbalance in the brain, or a brain that is just wired differently, dishonourable, improper, ridiculous, etc.? Why should it be a disgrace? It's just who we are. Again, feeling embarrassment ( make uncomfortably self-conscious) that someone has witnessed a private moment is completely reasonable. Feeling shame for something that so directly influences the person you are/are becoming/ will become on the other hand is stupid and self-destructive.

Emily Dickinson said it best:

Much Madness is divinest Sense -

To a discerning Eye -

Much Sense - the starkest Madness -

’Tis the Majority

In this, as all, prevail -

Assent - and you are sane -

Demur - you’re straightway dangerous -

And handled with a Chain -

 

Who cares why Society and the so-called Majority are uncomfortable with us? We're better than that. We are amazing fucking creatures. Unicorns filled with magic and glitter and dreams beyond the normals' wildest dreamings. I think we make them uncomfortable because they're secretly afraid that we know more than them, see more than they see, and can understand things that they don't. 

I have no idea why my formatting went all funky. That was weird. But who cares. Onward!

We, the crazy, the maladjusted, the weirdos, the freaks, we are the minds filled with wonder. As I have heard so many say, the arts would flounder without mental illness. Medicated or not, in therapy, counseling, or what have you, we see things in ways the rest of the world envies. Van Gogh, Cobain, Wilde, Dickinson, O'Connor, all of them were freaks like us. History is littered with our brethren (and sistren ;) ). Were some of us killed unjustly? Hell yes. Still happens today in some parts of the world. But so many of the great and beautiful marks on history were made by folks like us. And, yes, accepting and embracing that means we have to acknowledge that not all of the impact of our crazy forebearers was good. But the normals of their time have faded into the shadows of history. Normals can't make history because they're too afraid. 

Yes, a lot of us are often scared of change. That's perfectly acceptable. But the fact is that we are still in a different category altogether from those trying to maintain society's status quo. The status is not quo. We know it and so do they. We remind them of it, and they resent that. 

I wish I could write you a song, fuck that shit, I wish I could write all of us a motherfucking SYMPHONY, resounding with our awesomeness. It would make some normals quake in their boots, and some open their eyes for the first time. Alas, I've neither the inherent genius nor the attention span. So you'll have to settle for what I've said so far.

There is NO shame in being different, it is a thing of PRIDE. Deal with it, because I won't stop saying it.

Yearning

I hate August. I hate Hate HATE August. It hates me back. The humidity kills my fibro, as well as leaving me prostrate and fatigued. I find myself praying and begging for a weather turn. Someday I will be careful what I wish for. Because when that abrupt change happens (with it's corresponding change in barometric pressure) I'm incapacitated for at least a day afterwards. The only thing meaner to my body than the humidity is pressure changes. Which means I am REALLY living in the wrong part of the world. Which means I am REALLY yearning for Arizona, its consistent weather, low humidity, and drinking buddies.
As I prepare for the coming school year, Arizona, university and the move have me excited. They are frighteningly and exhilaratingly close. Three quarters. That's it. The next time I talk to the advising department I'll be starting the application and transfer process. I'm praying that there won't be any roadblocks, but even if there are I'll still be moving to Arizona. I'll just have to keep trying to get in once I'm down there. I hope my faculty advisor is right about me being an attractive candidate for the linguistics program. It's only THREE quarters away and I have so much to do to prepare!
But when my fibro flares my brain doesn't look at it that way. It's TEN MONTHS away. AT LEAST. I'm going to have to suffer through this shit for another TEN MONTHS. Why can't I teleport??
I'm really tired right now. People looking at me from the outside would roll their eyes and call me lazy (something I'm used to at this point). But the constant pain is exhausting. I'll settle into a status quo, where my pain levels will level out and I'll be in a constant state of ache and fatigue. Those are the good times, because I can cope. The great times are when I barely hurt. The bad times are when the pain spikes for whatever reason and I find myself crying, or dry heaving, or rocking back and forth, all because of pain. Then I have sharp,debilitating pain and complete exhaustion.
I can still find hope in that though. "WHY" you may ask (with a WTF look on your theoretical face). At those moments when I'm in tears I can truly believe that my worsening symptoms of mental illness are directly related to my physical problems. I can believe, at that point, that if I can move to Arizona and get the physical under control...maybe my mental issues won't be so bad.
As the kids say "Aja! Fighting!"

The joys of chronic pain

I am experiencing intense pain right now. It's not new. I'm used to it. It leaves me in tears, but it's not an unfamiliar feeling. I can tell how helpless my mother feels when I come out of the room in tears because I hurt so bad and there's nothing I can do about it. I mean, marijuana can help, but I have no idea how to get it. And then taking it would be a problem. My mom is even (theoretically) okay with it if it would mean I wasn't hurting. But it's a moot point because I have no way of getting my hands on it.
I laughed earlier. My mom said I needed to see a doctor. I could hear the helpless frustration in her voice as she saw her daughter in tears and crippled with pain as her sons try to work the knots out of their sister's neck (didn't work but helped a little). I laughed because doctors don't do shit. I have very little respect for the medical profession. Because they wouldn't even prescribe me anti-inflammatories to help with the pain. They just told me to exercise and work through it, because all I need to do is lose weight. I had a doctor (before the fibro diagnosis) tell me that I was in this crippling pain because, wait for it... MY UNDERWEAR WAS TOO TIGHT. Yup. Chronic pain? You're just a fatass and need to wear bigger granny panties.
I don't know why I'm blogging. I just...I get so tired of being alone in my pain. Even when I have other fibro sufferers to commiserate with...no matter what no one can sit in your pain with you. Your always alone, and if someone tries to come to your aid they just feel helpless. Sympathy and empathy are wonderful things, and it's nice to know people care, but... Pain is a lonely, solitary place and I am heartily sick of it.
As always, hope will get me through.
But it still sucks.

A Victory Post

I went to a small concert. BY MYSELF. I don't check that off my "I want" list, because I want to be able to do more, be more. But that does not negate the feeling of victory I have right now. Was I all jumping into conversations, sitting in the front row? No. I was, in fact, in the very back. But the fact remains that I drove there (BY MYSELF), went in (BY MYSELF), and enjoyed a concert (BY MYSELF). I'm not sure exactly how many people were there, I'm not good at estimating stuff like that. It was held at a church and the sanctuary was...maybe three quarters of the way full? It was a decent size sanctuary (not super church, but bigger than small ;) ).
I think I need to change the nature of my "want" list. I think I need to add checkmarks to things on the list until I can cross them off because there's no more room for checkmarks. That will be a victorious thing. I will never cross everything off that list, because I fully expect the list to grow. That's how it should be. The things I want for myself should increase as I explore the world and find my place(s) in it. I want my list to be miles long with a check mark next to almost every item.

Hope

A lot of people I know are doing this Hope 2012 blog relay. It's kind of awesome and inspiring and maybe just a little tear-inducing (in a good way). I kept thinking...
Sorry, just got distracted creating a sparkly, boozy bug in GIMP. What was I saying? Oh yes.
I kept thinking that I ought to do a hope post too. Initially I couldn't think of what to write, then I felt like crap and didn't *WANT* to write. But I kept thinking about it. And thinking. And thinking.
Here's the thing, for me...hope is life. If you're alive and continuing to live then you are the embodiment of hope. I mean, what else is there but hope? Hope is what keeps us going through the crapshoot that is life. Without hope we have no reason to continue, to strive, to thrive, to conquer our fears and move on. Hope (and maybe a broken condom or two) are why children are born. It's why we plant trees, gardens, and flags. Hope is what we cling to when everything and everyone in our life fails us. Because if we don't have hope...what reason is there to continue?
Hope is why I'm getting an education. Hope is why I'm moving to another state. Hope is why I am pushing my own boundaries. Hope is why I read and write. Hope is why I communicate. Hope is everything. At the core of my being, the root of every action, the impetus behind every thought is...Hope.

a body transplant would still be nice

On the general principle of I AM BROKEN. I'm much better tonight. I hurt, but not like I was last night. I feel like I have an ear cramp. Which is pretty self-explanatory.
I spent all day in a darkened room, dozing on and off. I feel tired and my eyes are all scratchy, but I can't sleep. Because, y'know, my body HATES me. I also kind of have to pee, but I'm afraid that if I move from my current optimum position the pain will start again (based on past experience). I should add a TMI warning to this blog.
ANYWAYS. I really wish my powered usb hub was working, because then I could watch "Head" for the gazillionth time. I love that movie. If I had a region-free/multi-region/whatever-the-hell-you-call-it dvd player I would totally own this movie. It's so awesome. I may have to buy it anyways...Computers are region-free, right?
I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this movie before, but if I haven't here it is in a nutshell: The plot revolves around a plucky girl reporter and a severed head. It's a comedy thriller (comedy noir?). Highly recommend, if you can find it. One clue if you're not in East Asia "Yaarrrrrrrrrrrrr me matey".
Edited to add:
Once again being a Lawsbian pays off! O, the blogs you'll read!

Body transplant please

I'm in so much pain right now I think I might cry. Or throw up.
I hate this so much. I am so tired of always having SOMETHING wrong with me. I'm tired of not having medical insurance. I'm tired of killing my liver with naproxin and not even having it take all the pain away. I'm just so tired.
My head aches and I don't know if it's my sinuses or the wisdom teeth that are rotting in my head and desperately need to be removed. If that weren't enough my neck is choosing to knot itself up into one giant cramp. I keep trying to stretch it out with only pop pop pops resulting and no cessation of pain.
No more might. I am crying. I don't even know why I'm blogging this. I can't do anything else for myself I suppose.
I'm so so so tired of this. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

Some things

Thing the first-
So I'm a Lawsbian, that is to say a fan of the most fabulous Bloggess. The most fantastic thing about being a Lawsbian is all the other Lawsbians. It's a community of misfits brought together by our differences and commonalities. Most other groups I'm a member of are "misfit" groups as well, but they don't fully espouse the principles of "acceptance" the way Lawsbians do. In other groups I'm a member of, acceptance comes with qualifiers. This has not been the case in my experiences with my fellow Lawsbians. "You like the Bloggess? Friend! You're broken? Me too! You're feeling crappy? Love! Support! Hugs!" It's quite fantabulously wonderful.
Thing the second-
I'm sort of starting the Principia Discordia for the first time. I am again reminded of (and amused by) the fact that in high school everyone thought I was a pothead and I couldn't understand WHY.
Thing the third-
On a less fabulous note the keyword search "problems in lavender marriages" brought someone to my blog. I can't help but be curious as to why they were searching that. My first reaction was "Oh, honey, don't do it!" (even though I obviously cannot contact the person). My second reaction was "I should blog about this". My third reaction was distraction as I searched for (unrelated) twine. 
Thing the last-
My body fucking hates me. No, seriously, it fucking HATES me. I don't know what its deal is, but it's decided that every night it needs to do something to my neck and if I don't get heat on it pronto ain't no pain medication gonna do SHIT. I didn't have the heat thingummy the other night (my mom needed it for her frozen shoulder) and spent the next day miserable. Fuck. Seriously. It kinda makes me wish I had my medical marijuana friend nearby (she also has fibro and would share with me when the pain  got too much). I can't stand the stuff, but it does work. fu-huh-huh-UCK.

Relationship Savant

I'm kind of like an idiot savant when it comes to relationships. Kind of. I am very dense about some things, though after many years I'm starting to get where after being hit upside the head with it I can recognize when someone is attracted to me (but not very often). However...once I am in whatever kind of relationship (friend, family, lover, framily) with a person I will get to know them very well. I don't know if it's because of the chemical imbalance in my brain or because of my unsettled childhood, but once I get to know someone...I understand them in some fundamental way. Based on their reactions, it's not "normal" (but in a good way). I think that I want to be understood so badly (particularly by myself) that I extend it to those I care about. I prove I care by doing the best I can to understand you.
Of course...this does not prevent me from being treated shittily (or behaving shittily myself (I *am* human after all)) and it probably contributes to my past doormat history. I think it also helped end my marriage. My ex would do something shitty/stupid/hurtful/whathaveyou and go "You don't understand!" at which point I would break down the exact thought processes and the actions that followed. I was almost always right. This was particularly irksome to him when he would make some selfish decision that benefited him and left me with the short end and I would break down exactly why it was a dick thing to do. I'd be right too.
I'm not sure if I'm cut out for romantic relationships. I can have very deep and meaningful relationships with people without getting caught up in the sex. Sex is nice, but not essential. Masturbation is quite sufficient. (TMI?). I've mentioned it time and again but I think this is why polyamory appeals to me. In poly I can have that emotional connection and not feel I'm cheating my partner out of sex. But....I dunno, I still feel like romantic relationships are more trouble than they're worth. I have "my" people and a future to work towards. I have friends to do things with. I don't feel particularly lonely. I feel less lonely now than I did when I was married.
In my dreams I sometimes end up dating someone...but y'know, even in my dreams I can't quite make it make sense to me. Heck, half the time I end up setting the dream person up with a dream friend and end up best man/maid of honor!
I'm just pondering these things lately and reading a lot of romance novels because of it ;). It's led me to the conclusion that if (and it's a big if) I do get seriously involved with someone in the future...I don't want to be the one doing all the understanding. Even if this mythical person doesn't completely understand me...I want them to be willing to TRY. Not for themselves, not for selfish motivations, but because they care about ME.

Cranky

So, the past few weeks have not been restful because of physical my-body-won't-let-me-rest reasons. This makes me a cranky, cranky girl. This also means that my room is messier than usual because, frankly, I feel like crap and just don't care. But every time my mom comes in and grumps at me about how messy I am I clean up. And she HAS seen it clean. Not that she'll admit that.
I just had a cranky mom inform me that she's NEVER seen this room clean. Really? It's really hard not to say "Really, bitch?" but, y'know, it's my MOM. So. I'm going to make sure that the camera has batteries and I'm going to take a picture of the room EVERY time I clean it and email it to her. (except for when I clean it and then go to sleep, because, you know, SLEEP. Glorious, glorious SLEEP trumps EVERYthing (even petty vindictiveness in rubbing someone's words in their face).
(oh, and apparently my mom is ALSO just cranky cuz I can hear her bitching my brother out in the other room. I'd say our cycles are synching except it's not time for my period and she doesn't have one anymore. Yay synched crankiness?)

Talking with friends

So I was chatting with an old friend online. We don't talk much, but we generally have good conversations when we do. She's been teaching overseas for...God...Four years now? Something like that. In any case, she's been teaching in Korea and is heading to Japan tomorrow. We have a lot of issues in common (anxiety and fibromyalgia mainly). It's so nice to know other people with similar problems. Because knowing that she can do it gives me hope.
I still don't know if teaching English is what I'd like to do. I mean, I know linguistics and Language are major interests of mine (for even longer than libraries and books have been, honestly) but I don't know if that means I want to teach. But knowing that it IS an option and might be something I'd like to do...means a lot. I don't want to get in an education in a field because some charts and projections say it'll get me a job. I want to get my degree in something I love and figure out a way to translate that into a job I can tolerate. I don't need to love my job, I just need my future job not to make me worse physically, mentally, and emotionally. I find fulfillment in my interpersonal relationships. The only thing that made my last job bearable was those relationships. My customers, my coworkers, *they're* what made me able to hold that job for over five years.
I'm not a naive youngster, though sometimes I'm sure I still seem so. I know what it means to compromise, and what's more important is that I've learned when it is NOT appropriate to do so. I know how to find happiness, and I will succeed in doing so. In five years I want to read this and say "Damn Straight"...which makes me giggle because it's late and I'm not. Straight, that is.

Disconnect

So the weekends this summer have been spent with my new international student friends (and unofficially adopted siblings ;) ). It has been super fun. I am currently doing what I didn't do during my teens, getting out and DOING. It makes me happy, it makes them happy, and we're making some really awesome memories.
Except...
Both of them are shutterbugs, and I've really been enjoying being able to share with my other friends through these picture albums. But...Something kind of weird just happened. Usually I just skim through the pics, share a couple, maybe choose a new profile pic, but tonight I kept (kinda obsessively) going through the pictures of me, over and over. As I went through the pictures I kept gradually losing my connection to the person in them. Until...I was staring at this picture of myself and there was this strange disconnect and it was like I was looking at a picture of a stranger. I mean, intellectually I knew that I was looking at a picture of myself, and it was a picture (thanks to the random, weird, obsessive impulse) I'd already looked at a few times. But...I don't know, it was the weird sensation of "she". Looking at the picture and going "Wow, she looks really fun and happy" and then this realization that I was looking at myself. Followed by the realization that I have forgotten to take my meds for the last few days *sigh*.
I couldn't say if this is a normal thing for me. I'm not one of those people who has tons of pictures taken of themselves, so maybe this is a normal (ha!) crazytown moment and I just don't realize it because there were too few pictures of me in the past to elicit this reaction. And too few happy pictures of me. If you were to go on my Facebook you would see that there are more pictures of me in the last six months than the last three years. I'm also happier in the new slew of pics.
I don't feel depressed, I don't feel all that anxious, I just feel...I don't know how to describe it.
In any case I plan on having MORE happy pictures of me taken tomorrow. In the months and years to come I plan on continuing to be this happy. As my friend Tessa said, divorce looks good on me ;)
Fighting!

My beliefs

I'm a Christian. No quibbling for me. It's straight up what I am. No particular denomination, and yes the Bible is my roadmap. I've had more awkwardness coming out as a Christian to friends (yes, I am using that word humourously) than coming out as polyamorous. I come out as poly and interesting convos happen. I "come out" as Christian (c'mon people, I'm pretty obvious about it. y'know, reading the Bible, prayer, "I'm a ComeDiest, I believe there is a God and he's laughing at us") and it's "Oh. I'm not."
So? I'm pretty aware of these things. It's kind of obvious when you make appeals to the Goddess or talk about seeing selkies or what have you that we maybe, just maybe, MIGHT have differing belief systems. So what? Who gives a flying fuck? It's not like I hid the fact that I *gasp* happen to technically fall under the "majority" category when it comes to religion. Seriously. It's pretty obvious. I straight up say it. Just because I cuss and realize that there are more things in heaven and earth blah blah blah, none of that means that I'm lying when I show in so many different ways that I am, in fact, a Christian. So why the awkwardness when I tell you? It's like I've told you I have an STD. It's like...now that I've told you I'm a Christian...what? I'm magically going to change into a different person? The fact that it came up in conversation means I'm suddenly a member of Westboro?
Then people tell me there's no prejudice against Christians. Fuck you. Seriously. Go fuck yourself with a six foot, jagged, rusty, cast iron pole. Because that prejudice fucking exists. Remember how I'm the other? Yeah, in most circumstances being Christian makes me the other too. And where every other belief system is shown respect because it's the politically correct thing to do...It's OKAY to tell me that I'm not allowed to believe that. It's OKAY to heckle me when all I've said in response to a question is "Christian". I've not shoveled out hate, I've just been honest about who I am and what I believe. I haven't pushed it on anybody, my relationship with God is very personal and private-not something I share the details of.  And that's enough to throw all the rules in our lovely little politically correct subcultures right out the window. Because Christians are fair game. It's not PERSONAL. Just like when someone calls you a faggot, a heathen, a nigger, a chink. It's not PERSONAL when someone takes one of the most personal things about you and starts blasting you about it. It's not PERSONAL when we've gotten along really well, laughing and joking, but suddenly I'm not human. That's the only conclusion I can draw from the way you're choosing to treat me, to put words in my mouth. You call my beliefs hateful, when I have been nothing but supportive and loving to you throughout all your bullshit. Yeah, there are hateful people out there who claim the title of "Christian". I don't deny it. But why treat ME like shit when I. AM. NOT. ONE. OF. THEM. I never have been.
I just...
Gack.
I had the "I'm not" convo with an online friend the other day. It was relevant to the topic at hand. It bothered me. We'd been having a fun little convo, but the minute I used the "C" word...the conversation just stopped. Then I read a blog post by a guy who is basically dealing with the exact opposite situation (not a believer, surrounded by believers who can't seem to accept that). His experiences...just brought all this shit to the front of my mind. I empathize with him, but I don't know how to express it without getting the usual disbelieving response. I mean...
I understand. Christianity is (technically, considering how many vastly different denominations there are...) the religion of the majority. If I remember my census numbers correctly it was something like three quarters of the population. I understand that. But you know what? Christians don't like me. My sexual orientation and lifestyle do NOT fit what mainstream Christianity says is okay. I may not tell them, but they know I'm odd. Even before I knew that I was anything other than asexual they didn't like me. I make Christians uncomfortable for some reason. So, by default, the vast majority of my friends are not Christians. They tend towards the (self-identified) pagan side. My circles are not Christian. My subcultures are (generally) not Christian. While the belief system I technically fall under might be the majority in the general population, I am the minority in my cultures.
I don't even know what I'm rambling about anymore. I just felt...His post just reminded me of all the shit that's been shoveled on my head for not towing the party line and keeping to my beliefs. Because he seems to be going through the same thing, only opposite. He's a hetero, cisgender, monogamous, male who has identified as "not Christian". Oh, and he was raised Catholic, which with my "cult spin-off of the Pentecostal church" is pretty much as different as you can get.
I can't sleep and feel I am losing whatever coherence I had, so g'nite. Or morning actually. And not barely. It's really REALLY morning.