I've decided that this is break time. Are you getting tired of constantly reading about me me me ... and ME? I am! I have read alot of good stories that have been sent to me as responses to this blog, but no one has yet to offer up their story for a new post. I understand. It's hard to put yourself out there and expect the worst but still hope for something more positive. It's hard for me too. Especially as I consider inviting more and more people that know me. But anyway...I appreciate all the good responses and for the shared confidence of your stories.
Mushrooms!!!
I was thinking the other day about them. I don't remember just yet what the relevance was but I think if I talk it out something will emerge. Worth a shot =)
Have you ever thought about mushrooms?
Besides the ones that come on my pizza or steak, I hadn't either.
Just this past fall, I stumbled upon the motherload of mushroom patches (Is that what you call them? I don't know.) I became concerned about the close proximity of all the fungus growing around the toddler playground outside my son's preschool. So I did what any over concerned easily given to paranoia mother would do. After about an hour of being on my hands and knees (not to mention many strange looks from numerous teachers and students that came around), I had every kind of mushroom I could find in a plastic container ready for the dumpster.
After I got home I couldn't stop thinking about all the different shapes and colors and sizes of mushrooms that I saw and touched - yuck! I was curious about what they were called and how you can know a good from a bad one - Poison from gourmet.
Of course, for my expert opinion on subjects deemed so worthy I turn to my fastest source, the Net.
Apparently, there are close to 5000 different types of mushrooms growing in the United States. A great many of those are edible but the trick is knowing what's "poisonous" and what's safe. Below is some info that I copied and pasted from a website about mushrooms.
FICTION: A mushroom is considered safe if:
The mushroom grows on wood
Slugs or other insects eat the mushroom
Squirrels, rabbits, or other wildlife eat the mushroom
The mushroom is dried, boiled, salted or pickled in vinegar
The mushroom does not have a ring or skirt on the stalk
The mushroom is pure white in color
Just because someone else says “I have ate those their safe”
FACTS:
Some people can have allergic reactions to eating "safe" mushrooms.
Some mushrooms are only poisonous if eaten in large quantities.
Some mushrooms are poisonous when raw but become harmless when cooked.
Some mushrooms are poisonous regardless of how they are cooked or prepared.
Some mushrooms are poisonous only if eaten with alcoholic beverages.
Some mushrooms are classified as poisonous because they are hallucinogenic.
Stewed Mushrooms juice is a dangerous hallucinogenic drug, that can cause serious damage
to your health permanently even death.
MORE FACTS:
Some mushrooms that are edible when fresh and young, poisonous when they are old, hit by
frost or decayed.
Some mushrooms, for unknown reasons, are poisonous in one part of the country, are not
poisonous in another.
Some mushrooms that are poisonous to animals do not cause major problems in humans.
Most mushrooms are more dangerous to young children, the aged and the very ill.
Ideally, people and animals should never eat mushrooms that have not been identified by an expert
or bought at the store. Unfortunately, many mushrooms are difficult to identify even for a trained
mycologist, a biologist trained in the study of mushrooms.
That last part is the disclaimer
Every resource site that I have come across concerning how to identify mushrooms, had one of these.
There are so many variations and many of them look the same.
Example:
You have two mushrooms growing right next to each other and you know (because the expert told you) that this kind of mushroom is very good to eat. But what you don't see or notice is that the other mushroom growing right next to it is NOT identical in every characteristic. Where the one that is safe has a "fin" shape underneath the top, the other is only bumpy. Sometimes the only difference is on the inside with variations of color or even odor.
It takes someone who KNOWS, really knows, and has a properly trained eye to identify it correctly.
Kind of scary, huh? But not really. It's not like they are gonna jump up and shovel themselves into your mouth. I guess if you are pretending to be "survival man" an expert opinion is a must to consider before chomping into anything growing out of the ground, but especially if it's a fungi.
Life application:
I'll let your mind fill in the blank.
Procrastination completed.
It's time to move on with the story...
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Behind My Eyes & Things Left Unseen Part 2
My neck is a mass of knots right now (stress, unrelated to this) and so this blog post is taking a backseat in my brain at the moment but I will try. Because I promised..
I'm not going to try and tell you about ALL my "crushes" My main goal with sharing this side of things is to fill in the gaps and help you see a progression that has happened up to this point. So later you will see where I'm at presently in my life and how it is I got there.
I depended on God for everything. I became used to the idea of calling Him "my Best Friend". I understood that my Dad was a very poor example of what it was to follow Jesus. I guess to some, that would be enough motivation to turn away from faith entirely. And I DID question the existence of God (actually pretty early on), but I couldn't find enough reason to believe He wasn't real. And what were my choices? I either believe that there is a God who loves me and is all powerful to eventually get me out of the mess (even if only Heaven), OR I die. That is not an exaggeration either because even with hanging on to my faith, I thought of death repeatedly as an available option.
What stopped me? Pretty much the fear of something worse, like Hell. I know that there is no guarantee that I would go to Hell or that everyone that takes their own life won't go to Heaven. I wasn't willing to take the risk. I knew my present situation was bad living at home but I also knew that it could be worse! God was my only hope.
In the Bible it says that we should pray continually- To be in constant communication with God. I remember hearing about that verse in church and in school (I went to a Christian school for 7th and 8th grade) and I just smiled because praying continually had never been a problem for me. Jesus was like my "imaginary friend" only He was real (yes, yes, I know that is debatable to some of you).
Jr High:
I met Rosa at church. She was the childhood best friend of Jessica (read previous blog if you don't know who that is). I don't remember how or what sparked my interest in her but Rosa captured my attention like no one else. I knew she was flirty, the kind of girl that comes up and sits on laps of anyone that has one randomly. She even chose new guys to crush on randomly, but Rosa always got her man. And then a week or less later he was gone, and she was after someone new.
Sometimes she would just casually come up to me and say, "Kayt, you can't marry me, ya know". I would be speechless and embarrassed because how did she know? Could she see right through me? I always wondered why she would say that but I never had the guts to ask. I would day-dream about Rosa and I. Most of the dreams consisted of her coming on to me and me having to let her down gently because it was wrong (oh, how heroic and responsible of me).
I think I should clarify that although I had a VERY general idea of how sex was conducted, I really didn't have a clue. So when I say "coming on to me" I mean she wanted to kiss me because she fell in love with me.
Of course no guy that she was ever dating seemed like he was good enough in my eyes. I thought I could do better then them for her. I knew her home life was not great. (A very complicated family history) So I always had this protective feeling like I was going to save her or be her hero somehow.
Rosa would give me attention that generally I thought only a guy would receive from a girl. This made me think that she looked at me like all the others had seen me, like a guy. She was beautiful with dark brown glossy hair and a smile that lit up her whole face and she "lit" it up quite often.
I remember sitting in the pews during church service praying. I was asking God to make her love me the way that I loved her. I didn't want to be wrong in my assumptions. I wanted the fantasies to be real. (I was still assuming that I would do the right thing in the end.) I later DID imagine the two of us married and just the thought of her and I together forever made my heart ache. That seemed like heaven to me. I could almost hear the angels singing. It was a beautiful thought. The thought also scared me though. I knew I should not indulge in it for too long because I knew the Bible had said it was wrong. It didn't feel wrong to me.
High School:
Rosa was still my main crush. On youth trips I would "serenade" her with my voice. I was like a juke box, I knew soo many songs. Without fail, she would eventually fall asleep and lay her head on my shoulder. I loved that part because then I could smell her hair and it would brush against my cheek. A couple of times Rosa spent the night at my house. I had a full size bed in my room and I knew that it would seem normal and fine for the two of us to sleep in the same bed, but because I had opened my mind up to the fantasy life with her, that didn't seem right. If we were going to be in the same bed like that it was going to be by her choice ONLY, not because it was her only option. I was weird around her. I felt very guarded. What she was saying to me and what she was doing might have been perfectly normal Rosa behavior, yet I took it personally. One night that she stayed at my house, (sleeping on a cot in my room)I actually started to tell her the truth. Inadvertently at first, talking about something unrelated. Then before I could make myself shut-up, I was telling her everything. I finally stopped talking to hear what her response would be. There was no reply. I was getting very anxious until Zzz! *SIGH* That was a ginormous relief, and I thanked God aloud for that snore. There was never any love confession made after that by either of us.
Good place to Stop again. I do have more to say, but I think I'm going to put it back to just "High School Days" and continue from there. Thanks for sharing in my poor punctuation and not good grammar. Most of all, thanks so much to those of you that have taken an interest in hearing my story. I think, push comes to shove, I'm actually just writing this out (the long version) for my own benefit and to have a reference for later if I want. But it's always a very nice thing to know that other people care to read it too.
You all make me smile.
I'm not going to try and tell you about ALL my "crushes" My main goal with sharing this side of things is to fill in the gaps and help you see a progression that has happened up to this point. So later you will see where I'm at presently in my life and how it is I got there.
I depended on God for everything. I became used to the idea of calling Him "my Best Friend". I understood that my Dad was a very poor example of what it was to follow Jesus. I guess to some, that would be enough motivation to turn away from faith entirely. And I DID question the existence of God (actually pretty early on), but I couldn't find enough reason to believe He wasn't real. And what were my choices? I either believe that there is a God who loves me and is all powerful to eventually get me out of the mess (even if only Heaven), OR I die. That is not an exaggeration either because even with hanging on to my faith, I thought of death repeatedly as an available option.
What stopped me? Pretty much the fear of something worse, like Hell. I know that there is no guarantee that I would go to Hell or that everyone that takes their own life won't go to Heaven. I wasn't willing to take the risk. I knew my present situation was bad living at home but I also knew that it could be worse! God was my only hope.
In the Bible it says that we should pray continually- To be in constant communication with God. I remember hearing about that verse in church and in school (I went to a Christian school for 7th and 8th grade) and I just smiled because praying continually had never been a problem for me. Jesus was like my "imaginary friend" only He was real (yes, yes, I know that is debatable to some of you).
Jr High:
I met Rosa at church. She was the childhood best friend of Jessica (read previous blog if you don't know who that is). I don't remember how or what sparked my interest in her but Rosa captured my attention like no one else. I knew she was flirty, the kind of girl that comes up and sits on laps of anyone that has one randomly. She even chose new guys to crush on randomly, but Rosa always got her man. And then a week or less later he was gone, and she was after someone new.
Sometimes she would just casually come up to me and say, "Kayt, you can't marry me, ya know". I would be speechless and embarrassed because how did she know? Could she see right through me? I always wondered why she would say that but I never had the guts to ask. I would day-dream about Rosa and I. Most of the dreams consisted of her coming on to me and me having to let her down gently because it was wrong (oh, how heroic and responsible of me).
I think I should clarify that although I had a VERY general idea of how sex was conducted, I really didn't have a clue. So when I say "coming on to me" I mean she wanted to kiss me because she fell in love with me.
Of course no guy that she was ever dating seemed like he was good enough in my eyes. I thought I could do better then them for her. I knew her home life was not great. (A very complicated family history) So I always had this protective feeling like I was going to save her or be her hero somehow.
Rosa would give me attention that generally I thought only a guy would receive from a girl. This made me think that she looked at me like all the others had seen me, like a guy. She was beautiful with dark brown glossy hair and a smile that lit up her whole face and she "lit" it up quite often.
I remember sitting in the pews during church service praying. I was asking God to make her love me the way that I loved her. I didn't want to be wrong in my assumptions. I wanted the fantasies to be real. (I was still assuming that I would do the right thing in the end.) I later DID imagine the two of us married and just the thought of her and I together forever made my heart ache. That seemed like heaven to me. I could almost hear the angels singing. It was a beautiful thought. The thought also scared me though. I knew I should not indulge in it for too long because I knew the Bible had said it was wrong. It didn't feel wrong to me.
High School:
Rosa was still my main crush. On youth trips I would "serenade" her with my voice. I was like a juke box, I knew soo many songs. Without fail, she would eventually fall asleep and lay her head on my shoulder. I loved that part because then I could smell her hair and it would brush against my cheek. A couple of times Rosa spent the night at my house. I had a full size bed in my room and I knew that it would seem normal and fine for the two of us to sleep in the same bed, but because I had opened my mind up to the fantasy life with her, that didn't seem right. If we were going to be in the same bed like that it was going to be by her choice ONLY, not because it was her only option. I was weird around her. I felt very guarded. What she was saying to me and what she was doing might have been perfectly normal Rosa behavior, yet I took it personally. One night that she stayed at my house, (sleeping on a cot in my room)I actually started to tell her the truth. Inadvertently at first, talking about something unrelated. Then before I could make myself shut-up, I was telling her everything. I finally stopped talking to hear what her response would be. There was no reply. I was getting very anxious until Zzz! *SIGH* That was a ginormous relief, and I thanked God aloud for that snore. There was never any love confession made after that by either of us.
Good place to Stop again. I do have more to say, but I think I'm going to put it back to just "High School Days" and continue from there. Thanks for sharing in my poor punctuation and not good grammar. Most of all, thanks so much to those of you that have taken an interest in hearing my story. I think, push comes to shove, I'm actually just writing this out (the long version) for my own benefit and to have a reference for later if I want. But it's always a very nice thing to know that other people care to read it too.
You all make me smile.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Behind My Eyes & Things Left Unseen Part 1
I think right now is a good time to back up the memory train and clarify some things that were going on inside my head by this point (by this point in my story we are nearing H.S.)
Concerning my inner-self and the developing view of my own identity:
I couldn't tell you my age but it must have been sometime right before I went to kindergarten. This is so hard to explain. It's funny, because I remember it not being very hard to accept for real and true. I remember it like a dream. It's like a "knowing" just by thoughts and feelings but nothing said aloud. Not by me anyway. As if someone had just come in my room while I slept and whispered to me over and over again this same thing. Ever so softly but searingly it was whispered to me, "There was a mistake. I(God) made a mistake. When you were made you were supposed to be a boy. But now you are a boy's soul in a girl's body."
I didn't want to accept it but what was I supposed to do? As time went by it became increasingly evident that it was a fact about me that others noticed, and I was only denying the inevitable.
We played Star Wars on the playground everyday, my two friends and I. We were in kindergarten and I was in Daisy Scouts. I had short hair and glasses too big for my face. And John Mark (one of my two friends) was a stud that I never felt adequate to impress. Our mutual friend was Wendy and she was gorgeous with perfect hair, the perfect smile, and perfect femininity. Honestly, I didn't remember too much of kindergarten except crushing hard on John Mark and playing Star Wars. John Mark obviously played the lead as "Luke Skywalker". Jessica was a natural for the "Princess". So where did I fit? You guessed it! I was "Darth Vader". So I guess we were one small dysfunctional family. :) The Vader role play only made me feel even more inferior. I wanted so badly to be the princess in story, just once.
I knew just because of that silly game and the parts we were designated to play each day, I never would stand a chance of gaining John Mark's attention. After all I was his evil sinister robotic father.
Her name was Carrie R. I was in second grade when I "met" her. I say "met" because I don't remember actually saying two words to her. I know I probably did at some point but it could have been just two words. She to me was the absolute epitome of what it was to be beautiful. I remembered wondering if she was an angel because standing out at recess there was a glow of sunlight that surrounded her face. Sounds like I had quite a crush, doesn't it? For lack of better words, I guess I did. I had butterflies in my chest when she would walk by and if she ever glanced my way I would quickly stare at the floor. She seemed so far above me in status, her clothes, her constant "togetherness', yet she had the sweetness in her voice and face that told me she wouldn't look down on me. I could never get close enough to find out if that were true or not though, because I knew it was weird how I seemingly worshipped her from afar.
This is a very personal part to share so I need to break it up a little. I need to regroup my thoughts so that when they come out on here they actually seem coherent and understandable to those who do not live inside my head. You know, I was just thinking...If all of you were mind readers ...Nah! That would suck :P
C-ya again tomorrow
Concerning my inner-self and the developing view of my own identity:
I couldn't tell you my age but it must have been sometime right before I went to kindergarten. This is so hard to explain. It's funny, because I remember it not being very hard to accept for real and true. I remember it like a dream. It's like a "knowing" just by thoughts and feelings but nothing said aloud. Not by me anyway. As if someone had just come in my room while I slept and whispered to me over and over again this same thing. Ever so softly but searingly it was whispered to me, "There was a mistake. I(God) made a mistake. When you were made you were supposed to be a boy. But now you are a boy's soul in a girl's body."
I didn't want to accept it but what was I supposed to do? As time went by it became increasingly evident that it was a fact about me that others noticed, and I was only denying the inevitable.
We played Star Wars on the playground everyday, my two friends and I. We were in kindergarten and I was in Daisy Scouts. I had short hair and glasses too big for my face. And John Mark (one of my two friends) was a stud that I never felt adequate to impress. Our mutual friend was Wendy and she was gorgeous with perfect hair, the perfect smile, and perfect femininity. Honestly, I didn't remember too much of kindergarten except crushing hard on John Mark and playing Star Wars. John Mark obviously played the lead as "Luke Skywalker". Jessica was a natural for the "Princess". So where did I fit? You guessed it! I was "Darth Vader". So I guess we were one small dysfunctional family. :) The Vader role play only made me feel even more inferior. I wanted so badly to be the princess in story, just once.
I knew just because of that silly game and the parts we were designated to play each day, I never would stand a chance of gaining John Mark's attention. After all I was his evil sinister robotic father.
Her name was Carrie R. I was in second grade when I "met" her. I say "met" because I don't remember actually saying two words to her. I know I probably did at some point but it could have been just two words. She to me was the absolute epitome of what it was to be beautiful. I remembered wondering if she was an angel because standing out at recess there was a glow of sunlight that surrounded her face. Sounds like I had quite a crush, doesn't it? For lack of better words, I guess I did. I had butterflies in my chest when she would walk by and if she ever glanced my way I would quickly stare at the floor. She seemed so far above me in status, her clothes, her constant "togetherness', yet she had the sweetness in her voice and face that told me she wouldn't look down on me. I could never get close enough to find out if that were true or not though, because I knew it was weird how I seemingly worshipped her from afar.
This is a very personal part to share so I need to break it up a little. I need to regroup my thoughts so that when they come out on here they actually seem coherent and understandable to those who do not live inside my head. You know, I was just thinking...If all of you were mind readers ...Nah! That would suck :P
C-ya again tomorrow
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Chop Chop...
I think the story might get a little choppy from here on out. I don't think you need every little detail of my boring life. I certainly can remember alot more than some but I can't give you a play by play.
So I talked a little about our family changing churches continuously because of my Dad's intolerance of other people not like him. Let's start with that...
It was sixth grade when I met her. (Let's call her Jessica just for sake of giving her a name.) Sixth grade, wow, what a year! I've always said since, "sixth grade is the 'turning point" of which road you will choose for your life". Life decisions are being made by early naive adolescence just trying to fit somewhere. I was no different. I felt like an "odd ball" so I ran to the other "odd balls" who ended up being the "trouble-makers". We were light-weights compared to what our egos thought we were. I remember a few of my friends and I got together an started calling us a gang and we even had name for ourselves, "Living Colors". I bet you can't guess where we got the idea for that. ;)
It was that year I had my first smoke. It was...disgusting (because we were smoking old butts off the ground) but it made us feel tough and cool. I tried on my first swear words amongst my friends. I finally decided I didn't like it though because it reminded me of my Dad and his violent fits of rage. I took part in destroying school property. We found an unlocked door to the wrestling room where they had all the new football equipment. Sitting near by was an unopened can of soda pop....and... well, I guess the place just looked too clean for us. So we messed it up. Like I said, no biggies. The most trouble we got in that year involved about 500 blackcats (fireworks) and the courtyard of the school. Luckily I wasn't caught with the rest of my fellow pyros or I might have been suspended.
I was still just as "tom-boyish" that year. Maybe even more so. I was perfecting it. I was more comfortable with it. I would still hear the repeated inquiry about my gender from time-to-time but it never phased me as much. It was old news. My best friend, Christina, liked me just as I was and that was enough for me. She was my partner in crime. I looked up to her in so many ways that she never knew. But Christina's life was a total mess. Her family was a train wreck. She didn't even know which last name to tell you when she introduced herself. Yet when I saw her I was looking at my older sister (you know, the one you always aspire to grow up just like). We would meet at her locker on occasion between classes.
(This is where Jessica comes in.)
Jessica had a locker beside Christina so I would see her often while I waited. Jessica was a good girl, very studious, very focused, very "normal" and averagely dressed. Nothing about Jessica really stood out all that much. I knew she didn't like me. She didn't "approve" of me or however you want to state it. I was NOT friend quality to her. We would exchange words sometimes, but you know when someone has disgust in their eyes for you. I had no idea of just how much disgust until we later became friends and she told me.
Chop Chop---
I walked into Sunday School the summer before Seventh grade. I had never been to this church before and didn't know a soul but that was nothing new. I had "been there and done that" times 10. As I went to take my seat, my eyes scanned the room and there she was. Jessica sitting there staring in disbelief. I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of a very long and wonderful friendship.
My parents (although my Dad had talked of leaving, my Mom took her stand)placed their membership and it was that Christian Church that was my family for the next 6 years. Probably would be still but I went off to college and my folks moved again. They are still like family to me but sadly the congregation is no more (that is a long story in itself). Jessica revealed something to me later on after she felt comfortable around me, and I will never forget what she said. With honesty in her eyes, she told me about her suspicions of Christina and I as a lesbian couple. I'm sure some people could laugh a misunderstanding like that off but after my history...not likely. I assured Jessica that NOTHING ever crossed my mind or heart to EVER dream of anything like that with Christina. I was understandably more timid around Jessica after that revelation of her thoughts about me. I felt like, whether I was doing something wrong or not, something must be wrong with me and I needed to be more careful. I did not hug unless I was hugged. I never dreamed of being as flirty as the other girls were with each other. And the words "I love you" were reserved only for close family members. I didn't ever want to appear "gay" again. I was afraid.
That's a good place to stop tonight...and Look!! 4 minutes to spare. =)
I know it's commercial but I'm gonna say it anyway. HAPPY VALENTINES!! And give your honey a big messy smooch.
So I talked a little about our family changing churches continuously because of my Dad's intolerance of other people not like him. Let's start with that...
It was sixth grade when I met her. (Let's call her Jessica just for sake of giving her a name.) Sixth grade, wow, what a year! I've always said since, "sixth grade is the 'turning point" of which road you will choose for your life". Life decisions are being made by early naive adolescence just trying to fit somewhere. I was no different. I felt like an "odd ball" so I ran to the other "odd balls" who ended up being the "trouble-makers". We were light-weights compared to what our egos thought we were. I remember a few of my friends and I got together an started calling us a gang and we even had name for ourselves, "Living Colors". I bet you can't guess where we got the idea for that. ;)
It was that year I had my first smoke. It was...disgusting (because we were smoking old butts off the ground) but it made us feel tough and cool. I tried on my first swear words amongst my friends. I finally decided I didn't like it though because it reminded me of my Dad and his violent fits of rage. I took part in destroying school property. We found an unlocked door to the wrestling room where they had all the new football equipment. Sitting near by was an unopened can of soda pop....and... well, I guess the place just looked too clean for us. So we messed it up. Like I said, no biggies. The most trouble we got in that year involved about 500 blackcats (fireworks) and the courtyard of the school. Luckily I wasn't caught with the rest of my fellow pyros or I might have been suspended.
I was still just as "tom-boyish" that year. Maybe even more so. I was perfecting it. I was more comfortable with it. I would still hear the repeated inquiry about my gender from time-to-time but it never phased me as much. It was old news. My best friend, Christina, liked me just as I was and that was enough for me. She was my partner in crime. I looked up to her in so many ways that she never knew. But Christina's life was a total mess. Her family was a train wreck. She didn't even know which last name to tell you when she introduced herself. Yet when I saw her I was looking at my older sister (you know, the one you always aspire to grow up just like). We would meet at her locker on occasion between classes.
(This is where Jessica comes in.)
Jessica had a locker beside Christina so I would see her often while I waited. Jessica was a good girl, very studious, very focused, very "normal" and averagely dressed. Nothing about Jessica really stood out all that much. I knew she didn't like me. She didn't "approve" of me or however you want to state it. I was NOT friend quality to her. We would exchange words sometimes, but you know when someone has disgust in their eyes for you. I had no idea of just how much disgust until we later became friends and she told me.
Chop Chop---
I walked into Sunday School the summer before Seventh grade. I had never been to this church before and didn't know a soul but that was nothing new. I had "been there and done that" times 10. As I went to take my seat, my eyes scanned the room and there she was. Jessica sitting there staring in disbelief. I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of a very long and wonderful friendship.
My parents (although my Dad had talked of leaving, my Mom took her stand)placed their membership and it was that Christian Church that was my family for the next 6 years. Probably would be still but I went off to college and my folks moved again. They are still like family to me but sadly the congregation is no more (that is a long story in itself). Jessica revealed something to me later on after she felt comfortable around me, and I will never forget what she said. With honesty in her eyes, she told me about her suspicions of Christina and I as a lesbian couple. I'm sure some people could laugh a misunderstanding like that off but after my history...not likely. I assured Jessica that NOTHING ever crossed my mind or heart to EVER dream of anything like that with Christina. I was understandably more timid around Jessica after that revelation of her thoughts about me. I felt like, whether I was doing something wrong or not, something must be wrong with me and I needed to be more careful. I did not hug unless I was hugged. I never dreamed of being as flirty as the other girls were with each other. And the words "I love you" were reserved only for close family members. I didn't ever want to appear "gay" again. I was afraid.
That's a good place to stop tonight...and Look!! 4 minutes to spare. =)
I know it's commercial but I'm gonna say it anyway. HAPPY VALENTINES!! And give your honey a big messy smooch.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Daddy
Concerning my "Daddy"...
(This is a part of the story I wish I could skip. Ok, let me just tell you what my problem is and then we can just stop all this right here. I don't want to have to look back to my past anymore. I've moved on away from him and away from the me I thought I was. But if I did that, you wouldn't see all the pieces of the puzzle and so the picture would not mean as much to you. After all which is worth more to you, a poster that was handed to you to hang on your wall OR a puzzle after you put the effort and time into positioning every piece into its correct spot to complete the picture as shown on the box?)
My Dad is still the same as he ever was and if I lived at home right now, everything would be the same. He doesn't smoke. I've never seen him EVER take a drink of alcohol (not that there's anything wrong with that. I enjoy a good jack & coke occasionally). He has never taken a drug that was not prescribed to him. I wish any one of these would be his problem. My Mother would tell you that it's his obsessive compulsive disorder that's to blame. My Brother would say, "Just keep your mouth shut and you won't piss him off. Everything will be ok." The doctors would tell you that they just need to change his dosage of medicine and that should change his behavior. And my Dad blames anything or anyone but himself for his own actions. I don't know for sure where the real problem lies enough to fix or change anything, but I do know that while I was living at home, I was his scapegoat.
My Dad is a perfectionist, analytical, discontented, lacking self-control, easily angered and annoyed, irrational man. You can check under "My Dad" in the dictionary and that's what you'll find. Isn't it funny (not in a haha sort of way) that some of the most self-loathing people tend to be the most selfish? Even more than some arrogant jerk at the top of his game on wall street. It blows my mind to think that the people who are on suicide watch actually love themselves MORE than the many people who won't share a dime with the beggar in front of Wal-Mart. My Dad too has spoken of suicide. A child doesn't forget seeing her Father finally break down and cry. I thought at the time that he was coming to his senses (not that I wanted him to kill himself but that he was finally admitting there was a problem to deal with). I thought it was the beginning to an end. After all, I thought of dying many times before he came to that conclusion in front of us. I didn't want to take my own life but I didn't want to be "the burden" causing the constant strife to my family anymore. I remember asking God to come and take my life for me -- To take the breath out of my body. I was still not even a teenager at this point.
My Dad is controlling. If you are out of his control then you do not deserve his love anymore. Soooo many regrets, so many stories I could tell, so many scars he's left (mostly emotional ones although there was physical violence). I can still hear his voice in my head. Telling me I'm worthless and no man will ever want to marry someone like me. Telling me he loves me and then a moment later "I haven't loved you since you learned how to talk!" I remember the slaps to the face and hands around my neck. I remember listening to the crash and screams coming from the bedroom as my Mom and Dad fought about her standing up and coming to my defense. This is not my step-dad! This is my DAD, folks! And that hurts...because I love(ed) him. I was just a kid but I was his kid. Wasn't he supposed to love me too?
I'll wrap it up by telling you about my wedding day.
I decided I would push my hurts aside for my dysfunctional father and have him walk me down the aisle. It was an outdoor wedding so we were waiting behind the cars in the parking lot for our cue that they were ready for us. It was just me and my Dad standing there. Most Dad's would take these last few moments to look at their daughter and say things like, "You look so beautiful. Oh, how much you've grown up. Your Mom and I are so proud of you." I would have settled for just a look and a smile. Instead my Dad..lol..right before giving his daughter away, looks up at me and says, "Kayt, look at me. Do I have something in my teeth?" and then proceeds to continue searching for the fabled food item with the side mirror of the van next to us.
I do not blame my Father for any of MY failures, because there is always a choice to be made. His choices both bad and good ones have left an imprint on me, and that is something that I can forgive but I am not able to forget.
"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."
--------Rose Kennedy-------
Next up: More to say about school and youth group.
After that: College and Changes
(This is a part of the story I wish I could skip. Ok, let me just tell you what my problem is and then we can just stop all this right here. I don't want to have to look back to my past anymore. I've moved on away from him and away from the me I thought I was. But if I did that, you wouldn't see all the pieces of the puzzle and so the picture would not mean as much to you. After all which is worth more to you, a poster that was handed to you to hang on your wall OR a puzzle after you put the effort and time into positioning every piece into its correct spot to complete the picture as shown on the box?)
My Dad is still the same as he ever was and if I lived at home right now, everything would be the same. He doesn't smoke. I've never seen him EVER take a drink of alcohol (not that there's anything wrong with that. I enjoy a good jack & coke occasionally). He has never taken a drug that was not prescribed to him. I wish any one of these would be his problem. My Mother would tell you that it's his obsessive compulsive disorder that's to blame. My Brother would say, "Just keep your mouth shut and you won't piss him off. Everything will be ok." The doctors would tell you that they just need to change his dosage of medicine and that should change his behavior. And my Dad blames anything or anyone but himself for his own actions. I don't know for sure where the real problem lies enough to fix or change anything, but I do know that while I was living at home, I was his scapegoat.
My Dad is a perfectionist, analytical, discontented, lacking self-control, easily angered and annoyed, irrational man. You can check under "My Dad" in the dictionary and that's what you'll find. Isn't it funny (not in a haha sort of way) that some of the most self-loathing people tend to be the most selfish? Even more than some arrogant jerk at the top of his game on wall street. It blows my mind to think that the people who are on suicide watch actually love themselves MORE than the many people who won't share a dime with the beggar in front of Wal-Mart. My Dad too has spoken of suicide. A child doesn't forget seeing her Father finally break down and cry. I thought at the time that he was coming to his senses (not that I wanted him to kill himself but that he was finally admitting there was a problem to deal with). I thought it was the beginning to an end. After all, I thought of dying many times before he came to that conclusion in front of us. I didn't want to take my own life but I didn't want to be "the burden" causing the constant strife to my family anymore. I remember asking God to come and take my life for me -- To take the breath out of my body. I was still not even a teenager at this point.
My Dad is controlling. If you are out of his control then you do not deserve his love anymore. Soooo many regrets, so many stories I could tell, so many scars he's left (mostly emotional ones although there was physical violence). I can still hear his voice in my head. Telling me I'm worthless and no man will ever want to marry someone like me. Telling me he loves me and then a moment later "I haven't loved you since you learned how to talk!" I remember the slaps to the face and hands around my neck. I remember listening to the crash and screams coming from the bedroom as my Mom and Dad fought about her standing up and coming to my defense. This is not my step-dad! This is my DAD, folks! And that hurts...because I love(ed) him. I was just a kid but I was his kid. Wasn't he supposed to love me too?
I'll wrap it up by telling you about my wedding day.
I decided I would push my hurts aside for my dysfunctional father and have him walk me down the aisle. It was an outdoor wedding so we were waiting behind the cars in the parking lot for our cue that they were ready for us. It was just me and my Dad standing there. Most Dad's would take these last few moments to look at their daughter and say things like, "You look so beautiful. Oh, how much you've grown up. Your Mom and I are so proud of you." I would have settled for just a look and a smile. Instead my Dad..lol..right before giving his daughter away, looks up at me and says, "Kayt, look at me. Do I have something in my teeth?" and then proceeds to continue searching for the fabled food item with the side mirror of the van next to us.
I do not blame my Father for any of MY failures, because there is always a choice to be made. His choices both bad and good ones have left an imprint on me, and that is something that I can forgive but I am not able to forget.
"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."
--------Rose Kennedy-------
Next up: More to say about school and youth group.
After that: College and Changes
To My Readers:
I haven't figured out yet how I can get the comments to show on the main page sooo that might make it a little hard to make this a "community" thing. So How bout we try this for awhile till I can figure out another alternative. If you want to post a story (yours preferably...someone else's might be weird) then just email it to me at kaytmasterson@gmail.com or leave it in a comment and I will copy and past it to the main page. Make sure you leave me with a title so I know what you want as your header. Thanks for your help and I know this thing can really take off.
Kayt =)
Kayt =)
Here's more
I hope I didn't forget to mention that I'm a recovering procrastinator.
Here's my TOP TEN reasons why I like to procrastinate:
1.
But anyway, I'm sorry that I missed my deadline. I'm not really sure if it matters all that much to anyone if I post it on time or not. But I know that it is good medicine for me to apologize as well as a good practice to get into reaching my goals that I have set for myself.
On with the story...
I left off talking about what the kids thought about me my 4th grade year right after we moved to a new state.
I can still remember excusing myself from class and walking into the restroom at school. And what I saw looking back at me through the mirror began to look more and more like the person they described me to be. I knew that I was a girl...I just wasn't so sure if I was supposed to be...Either way, the whole experience left me feeling out of place and weird to everyone around me. Things got a little better the next year. Not because of anything I said, but my parents moved to a new house which placed me at a different school with different kids. I still got the occasional question thrown at me, "Are you a boy, or a girl?" (I guess my long hair was not a dead give away) but it was nothing to the insults that were hurled at me everyday the year before. Stepping away for a minute from the school life. ...My home life was turning a very bad corner that only got worse over time.
Do you remember that traditional Christian home that I described to you before? Well, the word "good" was never used. It's not unusual for many of us after we have grown up to have our horror stories of all the awful things are parents did to us or our social life growing up. The embarrassments in front of our friends, the forced educational standards, the constant nagging to clean up our room etc... And my family had all those issues and more. My parents fought and the word "divorce" had been brought up in conversation many times. So in an effort to put an end to this they sought family counseling. (Which I would think "marital counseling" would be more efficient but that's just me.) ....
Bare with me, I'm gonna work my way back to this part in a minute.
Does a child know his left from his right if an adult who knows doesn't tell him so? What about dirt or water? Food or poison? What about concerning good OR bad? And what if the adult telling you what these things all mean ...lies?
I didn't know either that what my Daddy was saying about me was NOT true.
No, no, no. He didn't try to tell me I was boy and not a girl. He didn't call me a freak or a weirdo. But to him, I WAS the problem with his marriage and I WAS the problem with his control that he sought over his family. I was THE problem that must be STOPPED.
"Family counseling" makes more sense now, doesn't it?
And it all came out in those few sessions we had with a professional. I don't remember anything all that profound coming out of the counselor's mouth. However, I do remember what came forth from my Dad, my Mom, AND my older (and only) brother's mouth. When asked what the root of the trouble with my parents fighting all the time and what needed to be done in order to save their marriage, the finger was pointed right at me. You are gonna think this is soo ridiculous that I am making this bigger than what it is or making this up. I assure you, I wish I was. Everyone in my family began to tell the counselor that "IF only Kayt would do the dishes without being asked so many times OR if she would clean more around the house and DO her chores without complaining about it. Things would be better for our family and between her Mother and I." My whole family was in agreement and the outsider (professional) didn't interrupt with something different. I was a child no more than 11 yrs old by this time. What was I supposed to believe?
Concerning my Father....
(cont'd later tonight. This is not easy to write all in one sitting.)
Here's my TOP TEN reasons why I like to procrastinate:
1.
But anyway, I'm sorry that I missed my deadline. I'm not really sure if it matters all that much to anyone if I post it on time or not. But I know that it is good medicine for me to apologize as well as a good practice to get into reaching my goals that I have set for myself.
On with the story...
I left off talking about what the kids thought about me my 4th grade year right after we moved to a new state.
I can still remember excusing myself from class and walking into the restroom at school. And what I saw looking back at me through the mirror began to look more and more like the person they described me to be. I knew that I was a girl...I just wasn't so sure if I was supposed to be...Either way, the whole experience left me feeling out of place and weird to everyone around me. Things got a little better the next year. Not because of anything I said, but my parents moved to a new house which placed me at a different school with different kids. I still got the occasional question thrown at me, "Are you a boy, or a girl?" (I guess my long hair was not a dead give away) but it was nothing to the insults that were hurled at me everyday the year before. Stepping away for a minute from the school life. ...My home life was turning a very bad corner that only got worse over time.
Do you remember that traditional Christian home that I described to you before? Well, the word "good" was never used. It's not unusual for many of us after we have grown up to have our horror stories of all the awful things are parents did to us or our social life growing up. The embarrassments in front of our friends, the forced educational standards, the constant nagging to clean up our room etc... And my family had all those issues and more. My parents fought and the word "divorce" had been brought up in conversation many times. So in an effort to put an end to this they sought family counseling. (Which I would think "marital counseling" would be more efficient but that's just me.) ....
Bare with me, I'm gonna work my way back to this part in a minute.
Does a child know his left from his right if an adult who knows doesn't tell him so? What about dirt or water? Food or poison? What about concerning good OR bad? And what if the adult telling you what these things all mean ...lies?
I didn't know either that what my Daddy was saying about me was NOT true.
No, no, no. He didn't try to tell me I was boy and not a girl. He didn't call me a freak or a weirdo. But to him, I WAS the problem with his marriage and I WAS the problem with his control that he sought over his family. I was THE problem that must be STOPPED.
"Family counseling" makes more sense now, doesn't it?
And it all came out in those few sessions we had with a professional. I don't remember anything all that profound coming out of the counselor's mouth. However, I do remember what came forth from my Dad, my Mom, AND my older (and only) brother's mouth. When asked what the root of the trouble with my parents fighting all the time and what needed to be done in order to save their marriage, the finger was pointed right at me. You are gonna think this is soo ridiculous that I am making this bigger than what it is or making this up. I assure you, I wish I was. Everyone in my family began to tell the counselor that "IF only Kayt would do the dishes without being asked so many times OR if she would clean more around the house and DO her chores without complaining about it. Things would be better for our family and between her Mother and I." My whole family was in agreement and the outsider (professional) didn't interrupt with something different. I was a child no more than 11 yrs old by this time. What was I supposed to believe?
Concerning my Father....
(cont'd later tonight. This is not easy to write all in one sitting.)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
As promised...
My story starts like many others. I was a child. Whew! Glad to get that off my chest. lol Yeah, I'm just kidding. Anyway, I grew up in a "traditional" family. This means that my parents got hitched before they popped out my brother and me, and they have yet to separate from each other. My mom and Dad both worked outside the home for most of the time. My Dad was an electrical engineer (whatever that is. Admit it...you have no idea what they do either) and my Mom a nurse. We were a typical Christian family. We prayed before every meal, went to church every Sunday and Wednesday, or every time it was that the church had a gathering of some kind. Dad would even read from the Bible to us and pray before we went to bed EVERY night. (The Bible reading is pretty boring when you are a little kid. Most of the time my brother and I would just make faces at each other to try and get the other one in trouble for giggling.) Everything about that seemed normal to my world. But for some reason I can remember at an early age knowing that I was not "normal."
I was what some people chose to call, a "tomboy". I played with my brother's toys more than my own. My parents eventually caved and started buying me my own G.I. Joes. I loved to be outside and get dirty. I fought my way on to the soccer field to play with the other kids during recess, who were all boys (thus the fight). My Mom bought dolls and purses for me but they were never brought down from the shelves or used. I still hate pink! Dresses were only for church because I HAD to. Are you getting the picture yet? It was a little frustrating that family members would be so insistent on pushing "girly" things on me, but beyond that I really did not mind being different. It didn't really bother me until the middle of my 4th grade year. My Dad's company merged with another company on a project they were doing and translation, we had to move. I didn't just change school zones, I changed states. I can understand how a change like that might not seem like a big deal, but to a "tomboy" that didn't know it yet..moving in the middle of the school year was extremely hard. We all have moments of our life, maybe in our childhood, that we would like to erase or at best rewrite. Well, 4th grade is that for me DEFINITELY.
I was the new kid and was shy around people I didn't know. Unless I was spoken to, I did not speak. Unless someone looked at me, I did not stare and so on. The kids in my class had no mercy for my shyness or for my appearance that was not your typical "girly" look. Repeatedly I was asked if I was a boy or a girl by BOTH girls and boys. Sometimes they would ask as if they really did not know....
I was told I was an alien, a FREAK!. I was told that I was, in fact, a boy trying to disguise myself as a girl. They had their facts lined up for me and listed their observations- I walked like a boy, I dressed like a boy, I looked too ugly to be a girl.
(Ok, I know this is just beginning to get to the good stuff but I really need to shove off to bed now. I will write more either tomorrow or no later than Monday night. Keep checking back and please don't be too shy to leave a comment or ask a question)
I was what some people chose to call, a "tomboy". I played with my brother's toys more than my own. My parents eventually caved and started buying me my own G.I. Joes. I loved to be outside and get dirty. I fought my way on to the soccer field to play with the other kids during recess, who were all boys (thus the fight). My Mom bought dolls and purses for me but they were never brought down from the shelves or used. I still hate pink! Dresses were only for church because I HAD to. Are you getting the picture yet? It was a little frustrating that family members would be so insistent on pushing "girly" things on me, but beyond that I really did not mind being different. It didn't really bother me until the middle of my 4th grade year. My Dad's company merged with another company on a project they were doing and translation, we had to move. I didn't just change school zones, I changed states. I can understand how a change like that might not seem like a big deal, but to a "tomboy" that didn't know it yet..moving in the middle of the school year was extremely hard. We all have moments of our life, maybe in our childhood, that we would like to erase or at best rewrite. Well, 4th grade is that for me DEFINITELY.
I was the new kid and was shy around people I didn't know. Unless I was spoken to, I did not speak. Unless someone looked at me, I did not stare and so on. The kids in my class had no mercy for my shyness or for my appearance that was not your typical "girly" look. Repeatedly I was asked if I was a boy or a girl by BOTH girls and boys. Sometimes they would ask as if they really did not know....
I was told I was an alien, a FREAK!. I was told that I was, in fact, a boy trying to disguise myself as a girl. They had their facts lined up for me and listed their observations- I walked like a boy, I dressed like a boy, I looked too ugly to be a girl.
(Ok, I know this is just beginning to get to the good stuff but I really need to shove off to bed now. I will write more either tomorrow or no later than Monday night. Keep checking back and please don't be too shy to leave a comment or ask a question)
No Juice yet but it's coming...here's some general info about me:
OK so I'm a little later posting then what I originally stated. I decided to take some time and act goofy with my kids last night. I figured the Internet would still be there in the morning but time with my children at this fun age (my son will be 5 in a month and my daughter is 3) will be gone in a blink.
I guess I should tell you about myself... (almost sounds like I am writing a personal Ad.)
Well, I just told you about my children but also I have been married for close to 8 yrs. I am quickly approaching my 30th birthday. My husband and I met in college but we did not finish our education. He works full-time while I stay at home and take are of the kiddos. Seems very traditional doesn't it? That will seem ironic once you get to know me a little more. I do not plan on continuing as a "stay-at-home-mom" forever though. Plans to go back and finish my degree are in the making. Not that there is anything wrong with having a lifestyle as a homemaker or house wife, but I prefer to have a responsibility outside the walls of my house.
My interests are in music (singing, songwriting, listening, recording, guitar, and I would love to someday learn piano), sports (soccer mainly- but I'm not a spectator, I'm a playa lol), exploring/traveling (who doesn't like to travel? I enjoy finding "forgotten" places though - like caves that are not over-run with tourists and someone to charge admission.), and probably one of biggest interests of all is people. I can actually sit contently and stay occupied for hours just sitting in a crowded mall or grocery store "people-watching". Sounda a bit like a stalker or serial killer doesn't it? But no, I just like to observe from a distance the lives of other people (their actions and reactions, what they are wearing can say alot about who they are, sometimes what they are NOT wearing can say a little, the way they act around strangers, what kind of shops they go to, and what they buy). I just like to try and get into their mind to figure what they might be thinking and why it is they do what they do. Understanding still that I don't SEE everything. There are many pieces missing from the puzzle as I piece it together within the short time that I observe. My major, by-the-way, was not in psychology but in elem. education. And I want everyone to know that I am NOT using this blog as a school project or for anything else unless I later ask you and receive your specific permission. I might joke a little bit on here but I take everything that is recorded here as serious and confidential (as in limited to the viewers of this page). Also... I'm a Christian. I know that is like dropping a bomb shell to some of you. And I don't blame you for being turned-off by it. But I set this blog up not to say, "Hey look at me and my life and see how great yours CAN be!" It's all about the stories and the community with connection that we can build from it. I did not think it would be sincere if I chose to keep that fact about myself a secret though, just because I was afraid of what others might think about it. This is me.
And now to tell you about one struggle of my life....
(to be continued....new post deadline is 2/6/2010 by 12AM)
I guess I should tell you about myself... (almost sounds like I am writing a personal Ad.)
Well, I just told you about my children but also I have been married for close to 8 yrs. I am quickly approaching my 30th birthday. My husband and I met in college but we did not finish our education. He works full-time while I stay at home and take are of the kiddos. Seems very traditional doesn't it? That will seem ironic once you get to know me a little more. I do not plan on continuing as a "stay-at-home-mom" forever though. Plans to go back and finish my degree are in the making. Not that there is anything wrong with having a lifestyle as a homemaker or house wife, but I prefer to have a responsibility outside the walls of my house.
My interests are in music (singing, songwriting, listening, recording, guitar, and I would love to someday learn piano), sports (soccer mainly- but I'm not a spectator, I'm a playa lol), exploring/traveling (who doesn't like to travel? I enjoy finding "forgotten" places though - like caves that are not over-run with tourists and someone to charge admission.), and probably one of biggest interests of all is people. I can actually sit contently and stay occupied for hours just sitting in a crowded mall or grocery store "people-watching". Sounda a bit like a stalker or serial killer doesn't it? But no, I just like to observe from a distance the lives of other people (their actions and reactions, what they are wearing can say alot about who they are, sometimes what they are NOT wearing can say a little, the way they act around strangers, what kind of shops they go to, and what they buy). I just like to try and get into their mind to figure what they might be thinking and why it is they do what they do. Understanding still that I don't SEE everything. There are many pieces missing from the puzzle as I piece it together within the short time that I observe. My major, by-the-way, was not in psychology but in elem. education. And I want everyone to know that I am NOT using this blog as a school project or for anything else unless I later ask you and receive your specific permission. I might joke a little bit on here but I take everything that is recorded here as serious and confidential (as in limited to the viewers of this page). Also... I'm a Christian. I know that is like dropping a bomb shell to some of you. And I don't blame you for being turned-off by it. But I set this blog up not to say, "Hey look at me and my life and see how great yours CAN be!" It's all about the stories and the community with connection that we can build from it. I did not think it would be sincere if I chose to keep that fact about myself a secret though, just because I was afraid of what others might think about it. This is me.
And now to tell you about one struggle of my life....
(to be continued....new post deadline is 2/6/2010 by 12AM)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Introduction and Purpose Statement
Welcome to my first blog entry... I'm not for sure how blogs work normally. My hopes for opening this page are that MY words will not be the only ones written on this page. I have entitled the page "The Living Testimonial" and not "My Living Testimonial" because I look forward to seeing many other testimonies recorded here as well. No comment is useless and unwelcome as long as it is spoken in a respectful manner. Anonymous entries are welcome as well... In fact, I completely understand if you want to remain nameless when posting your stories here. After all, I am also using an alias. This is mainly to protect my family and friends from unnecessary ridicule.
In every post of mine all the names used will be altered to protect their identities. It's a sad fact of life that we have to take these kind of precautions when discussing personal topics while doing nothing illegal but not everything is right with the world. Is it? And that, gives us a story to tell.
This blog is dedicated to the stories of our "struggles" both now and of the past.
Together maybe we can reach out to each other via cyber-space and find wisdom and connection. If nothing else, knowledge that there are others out there that face the same issues. You are NOT alone.
In every post of mine all the names used will be altered to protect their identities. It's a sad fact of life that we have to take these kind of precautions when discussing personal topics while doing nothing illegal but not everything is right with the world. Is it? And that, gives us a story to tell.
This blog is dedicated to the stories of our "struggles" both now and of the past.
Together maybe we can reach out to each other via cyber-space and find wisdom and connection. If nothing else, knowledge that there are others out there that face the same issues. You are NOT alone.
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