I'm not taking hostages

I'm bad at this.
Confrontation is not my forte', but it's necessary to tell the truth.
I had been "getting help" from a professional recently, and a few months ago during our last session I seized up.  The air had left the room and my heart was burning a hole inside my chest.  I had to get out of there quick! -that's all I knew.  And it's been maybe two months since that happened.....  I opened up to this Christian woman about things that I would not even wish to speak to another living human let alone someone who is so close to my church community.  Through all that openness and ugly honesty, I got scripture thrown back at me.  I got the words, "You CAN control how you feel."  As if, I didn't feel miserably lost in my own sin, she had to plant that statement in front of my face.
But still I'm the coward here.  Because all this time I let those words fester, and I wouldn't confess to her why I haven't stepped foot in her office to see her again..... until tonight.

 Because I wanted to finish this post.

It's time to stop stop stalling.  It's time to stop withholding the truth behind all this.  I'm not going to be afraid of stepping on your foot.  I'm not going to stand behind someone else's belief so that I don't get hit with the hate.

The friend (Motivation Unleashed) I mentioned before.  She has a blog and a "group page" advocating her beliefs in which she has established a following of individuals just like her.  They say that the group is about opening up discussion and finding a common ground between the Church and homosexuals.  However, I am convinced from listening and participating in past discussions that "openness" and "sharing common ground" is code for "If you don't see things our way we will attempt to hypnotize you with our professor like lingo OR we will gang up on you (using the word 'hateful' a lot) until you shut up".

As you can probably tell my old college friend and I are no longer really speaking to each other.  She says, she is tired of "sparing" with me.  But I don't try to fight with her.  I try to reason with her asking, "What do I have to gain by proving you wrong?"

You might be asking - "proving what wrong?"

As mentioned before, Patty is a Christian as claim her many friends that same title.  (I'm not trying to dispute that.)   I have an atheist friend who wrote about this contradiction from his point of view. He says:

because i never get tired of thinking about people’s faith…

so i was pondering over the long Easter weekend as i saw posts from the faithful about the resurrection of Jesus. i contemplated discussions i have had relatively recently about Christianity and the Bible. i struggle to understand the mind of a believer when so many seem to pick and choose what parts of the Bible are truly the mandate of God and which ones are merely suggestions.

one of my primary sticking points with Christians is the belief that homosexuality is a sin. the argument of some is that the Bible says it is so and therefore it is so. i do not argue this point because the verses are easy enough to find and are pretty clear in what they say. what i find unusual is people who believe in the same God and refer to the same Bible, but don’t believe that homosexuals are an “abomination unto the Lord”. don’t get me wrong, i don’t believe homosexuality is wrong and i don’t believe homosexuals are an abomination. my problem is in the interpretation of the “law of God”.                                                                                                                                                    

The dispute is about what does the Bible say about same-gender sexual relations.
Is it silent,
does it promote it,
or condemn it?

For those that don't know:
 Yes, there is a whole community (a movement) of believers who are also self-titled LGBT.  I say that not to make you gasp in horror or shake your head in disbelief, but to make you aware of the theology that is circling.
Number 1:
Don't misunderstand me, I don't think homosexuality is the end all or number one sin.  The ranking isn't important and doesn't really exist anyway.  That's more of a comfort issue.   However, I have a problem with Christians encouraging others to be entrapped in sin.
I love my friend, more that I think she'll ever understand, but I had to let her go.  That's what she wanted me to do.   To allow her to live her own life without me hovering around with my so-called wisdom.
Her and her groupies think that I'm some kind of "know-it-all" -and I just want to laugh.  If only they knew...it all. (about my life)
Sounds like the ongoing debate that teenagers have with their parents.  That's nothing new.
I'm not saying that I am as wise as a parent to them, or that I know all there is to know about the Bible or God.
I can't even manage my own marriage and family that well.  I still struggle with same-sex relationships, and with the ghosts of my past, yet, they call me "the exception".
Why?  -Because I no longer believe that I'm a man, and out of faith in God's word over my own logic, I fought away temptation and sought after obedience.  God was my savior, my redeemer,....I still need him.  If that makes me an exception than all I got to say is,  "baby, What do you think a Christian is?"

I hear this all the time from other Christians and preached from the pulpit:
Grace is a free gift, for those who will take Christ as their savior.
The trick is, what they don't tell us....
We have to fight to believe.



_______More details coming about the "other side" and what they believe. ________
We are not enemies, but they have told me that we can not be friends.

Switchfoot The War Inside Lyrics (Track 03)

Motivation Unleashed

My brothers (sisters) if one of you should wander from the truth and someone should bring him back, remember this:  Whoever turns a sinner from the error of his way will save him from death and cover over a multitude of sins.    -James 5:19-20

Who can solve the "gay" question?

How does it happen?  When does it happen?  And of course, why would God seemingly wire a person to be gay and then call it sinful?

The answers simple, no one really knows.  All we know about this subject comes from either our own life experience or hearing about it from others.  And although I am firm believer in absolute truth, I would call this subject of attraction and sexual identity, relative.  
So I guess the next question is "Why the fighting?" or "Why the controversy?"   If no one can prove anything for sure...Where does the hatred, harsh words, and condemnation stem from?  

The obvious answer among the mainstream is Christianity, but I would say it's ignorance.  True, the Christian church does it's fair share of pushing Christian ideals into politics and we (Christians) take a warrior-like attitude when it comes to our schools and our family's values being threatened. And just like LGBT community, when we get pushed, we push back.  However, there are many Christians out there that are not pushing at all.  Still in this post millennium we have churches that refuse to acknowledge that these questions even circle around their communities.  Those are the churches that I'm most afraid of.

My friend, Patty, from college had the same thought, when she started her own facebook group and blog.  Patty thought education and open dialogue was the key to getting rid of the "haters".  I knew she was right about that, but she had her agenda and I had mine and we couldn't see eye-to-eye on much.

Patty is a Christian.  Patty and her girlfriend have been together for about 4 years.

(Still writing....it's a slow process for me.  My apologies.  It's getting good, I can tell.  So keep checking back for updated versions.)

debating

My best friend is Jesus.
 There I said it.  (Well, at least it should be.  Jesus and I have a lot of catching up to do)  The BFF spot cannot be shared with my husband because my relationship with Jesus must always stand alone; no one not even Drew can share that position with Him.  I found this out the hard way.

Many years have gone by with this pyramid scheme inside my head.  I wish I knew how to draw it out for you all on here.  Basically, it's a triangle that shows God at the top and Drew and I at the lower points.  The idea sounds pretty insightful: as we grow closer to God we grow closer to each other.  The problem with the diagram is it's dependant on each individuals pursuit after a close relationship to God.  What if my spouse or I make unconscious/conscience decisions not to follow after that goal?  What then?  Am I still to pursuit God even if that pulls me further away from my spouse, my best friend?!    The answer is yes, but the metaphor of the pyramid is lousy.
 Unfortunately, it took many years away from a close relationship with the Lord to finally realize this.  I thought that I had to choose : God or Drew, and how could that be if he is my God-given husband?  I chose to be a faithful wife and somehow that contradicted with a close relationship with Jesus.

 Drew believes all the same things that I do about the Bible.  He wants to impart those same beliefs onto our children.  We pray before our dinner meal and if he is able (as in not working), he wants to attend church.  However, early on (within the first month of our marriage) he confided that he never really had experienced the kind of excitement and personal love for God like I had.  (Of course, while writing this, I hope that I'm not misrepresenting him.)  That conversation would fester and brood inside my heart and my head for many years to come.  And the subject of our prayer life or things related would remain virtually taboo.  Gradually this conflicting battle of who I would choose to be closer to on my personal pyramid (God or my spouse) would be reluctantly be resolved.
I chose Drew, and that led both of us down a path of disappointment and emptiness.  I could not be the wife or woman I needed to be without Jesus as my center.


_________
Note to readers:  My apologies for this post to be cut short like this, but it had been sitting in my "draft" box for a while now because it was very difficult to share intimate details about Drew and I. I'm not at all embarrassed of my husband, and I don't want to give of that impression, however I know that I don't understand everything about him or his relationship with God and it's impartant to me not to say things that are misleading or untruthful.  So I'm going to post this and if you have further questions about how I got from point A to point C, I encourage you to ask me specifically to explain.    Thanks.  

Moving on....  I will be making another post today.  The subject is: My Motivation Exposed -the whole truth of why I created this blog and why I've been hiding it.

Living Fearlessly

"So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."   -FDR

I don't think living fearlessly means that we will never be cautious or that we will throw away every crumb of wisdom that we've acquired along the way.  However, Fear should not be our master.  

I realize that I'm preaching this from a blog site of which I still hide behind a phony name.  Yet, there are many of my readers that know who I am, and have contact with me on a weekly basis.  Reaching out for help and showing my true colors was extremely hard to do.   Now, I sometimes want to shout out my worst sin inside a crowded room- just to free up myself from the irrational fear that I would be rejected - And to free up  everyone else, so that they can do the same.

What Fear doesn't want anyone to know:   

He's powerless without you.  

If you let go....Wow!  Just think about it for a minute or two....   Think about your shoulders not having to try so hard to hold your body up.  Imagine letting go of that worry that's kept you paralyzed in relationships (including the one between you and God).  

That's what I want to talk about next.  How this fear has affected the way I see God working in my life.  The emphasis is not on Him working, but me seeing it clearly.  

I've been afraid that God sees me the way others do; the way "I" do -as useless, as wicked, as cursed.  

But I know that's not the truth.  Fear keeps me trapped inside that lie that God doesn't need me for anything.  At best, I'm just ordinary (refer back to post title: I'm Ordinary with special needs")  

What would happen if I were to throw fear away?  Would I start to see a clearer vision of the way God has created me?  Would I start to see a purpose for my life?  Would I start to hear His voice instead of all the doubts?  I wonder ...what would He say to me?

What would He say to you?

Would He remind me of all the men and women written about in the Bible? 

1. David who started out a simple shepherd boy to become a great king; who then misused his God-given authority to murder a man because he slept with his wife.  
2. Saul (or Paul) who tortured Christians as a part of his job description; who was so stubborn that God had to take away his sight before he could see the truth.  
3. Peter, the plain fisherman that was called away from his boat to follow the footsteps of the Son of God, who then just hours before Christ's death, would claim that he never knew Him at all.  

And I'm afraid God won't use me because I've got problems....?   

Next Post:  My BFF is not my spouse.  Tune in next week to find out "why?"

Living Haunted

There are many times that I sit down to write something on here, and a thought passes through my head : "Why would anyone wanna read about my garbage?"   And strangely enough the answer to that is always, "because I'm not alone".   I am just a voice for many who are asking the same kind of questions about their own lives.  We are all struggling to find the faith to keep it together for another day.  And I know that some of my readers have started their own venue to speak out and be real to others.  I think it's time we all stopped hiding behind our political socially acceptable Sunday School faces.  It's time to stop being afraid; allowing fear to control our relationships and our decision to trust.
Maybe you don't think this applies to you...

These are a few ways that fear may affect your life:
Fear makes loneliness
Fear builds walls
Fear keeps it all inside
Fear says that I'm better off alone
Fear whispers lies

Fear keeps me hurting
Fear provides a place for the ghosts to thrive
Fear keeps me silent
Fear leads me to places that I was never meant to be

Fear scares away reason;
"I'm alone because I'm afraid of being alone."
Fear searches for an excuse to keep being afraid

Fear hides itself
Fear puts on a face
Fear acts like everything's okay

Fear won't let me accept forgiveness or grace
Fear records my failures

Fear and Faith can not be friends.

I've let Fear make my choices.     Not anymore.
 I refuse.

I put aside my fear and went to the woman's retreat (refer to previous post, "Retreat!").   Not to say, I wasn't still afraid.  I was.  In fact the night before, I barely got a wink of sleep in.  If my tanks hadn't been filled to the top with nervousness and anxiety, I would have been running on empty.  The day went as well as could be expected.  The speakers were great and seemed to be perfectly aimed at my heart with their message.  I tried hard to hide my enthusiasm about all of it though; I was still too nervous to let my true emotions show through.

The night was coming quickly and the sleeping arrangements seemed set in stone -Two double beds in each suite along with a fold out couch.   We had only 4 ladies in our room so I was sure that I could take the couch if I wanted to, but I didn't want it to look like I was scared to sleep in the same bed with someone else.  I didn't want to show my discomfort.
I paid my portion for the room and then proceeded upstairs.  Greeting me almost immediately after I opened the door was the only lady that I considered a friend in the room.  She spoke up quickly and told me that it had been decided that they would all sleep and share the beds (everyone except herself-she didn't have to share) and I would get the fold out.  The sheets were already laid on top waiting for me to make it up.  Immediately, like someone had just tossed me into a dumpster, my spirit was broken.  The couch was in a separate room from the beds, and that's how I felt -separated.  Segregated, because I was different?  Because I'm weird?  Because I'm not like them?  Can they see all that?  Do I really make them feel all that uncomfortable?  Why am I always the oddball?  ...the outcast
It was happening again.  I was a kid again in the room that night.  Alone in the dark, left alone in my inescapable misery and thoughts that it would always be this way, I was born this way.  I can't get away from the voices of my past.  There in the dark they continuously  yell inside my head.  "You're a freak!"  "What did you expect them to do?  Sleep with you??"  "You're a mistake!"  "No one wants you!"  "You should have never been born!"
 I cry out into my pillow because even my Mp3s could not drown out the sound of their taunts and my breaking heart.  I tried to listen to reason.  I don't really think my friend was trying to push me away.  After all, I got what I wanted in the first place.  It just bothered me that she chose it first.  But all the rational thought in the world would not keep the ghosts out of my head.   I cried myself to sleep that night.
   
The next morning was awkward.  I wanted to put it all out of my head, like a bad dream.  But they could tell that something was off about me (I could see it in their eyes and they way they tip-toed with their words) and that just reminded me again that it was real.  I knew that this day would not end soon enough.  I longed for my home, full of chaotic child rearing and dysfunctional marriage; it all was sounding better to me right now.
More speakers spoke but I couldn't listen anymore.  My attention was elsewhere, waffling over whether I should confront my roommate or not.  I weighed the pros and cons.  Pros: I could talk it out and stop feeling this way.  I wouldn't keep associating this experience with her, and could put aside the resentment that I still felt.  Cons:  She didn't do anything wrong.  I should just leave her alone.  What would I really want to say to her anyway?  I can't tell her the truth!  I can't tell her that I'm awkward around other women because I'm secretly attracted to them and I feel inferior to them because of that.  This was my problem, not hers.
After this lengthy debate in my head, I took a moment to do the smartest thing that I had done for the whole weekend.  I prayed.
At break time, I asked my former roommate aside to a nearby stairwell.  Still unsure of what I would say, I took a deep breath and started with "It's not your fault.  I want you to know, you didn't do anything wrong.  But I need to explain something to you so that I will know that you know and I won't continue to feel bad about us."  I told her about that night and how I cried myself to sleep.  I told her that my feeling were hurt because not of what she had done or said but because of the painful past that it triggered.  I told her about the kids who made me like a freak of nature.  I talked a little about my father.  By the end of it, I was in tears again, but I knew it was over.  The storm had passed,  And I was able to look her in the eye again- as a friend instead of foe.  Her response to the conversation was that she saw me as a strong and independent woman.  She saw me as someone who thrives in loneliness.   I shook my head in disbelief, because I knew why she had that impression of me.  It was fear lived out in me.  I kept everyone away because I was afraid.  In my fear, I had made myself unapproachable and hardened.  Ironic, that I would allow fear to come in the door while I toss out my friends, when not having any friends was what I'd feared.

Fear would've wanted me to never approach my friend about that night.




_____ (to be continued, because I have more to say)_______

I'm ordinary with special needs.

I want to believe that I am special to God.  I know all about the lost sheep story and about Christ's death and resurrection.  I know that He goes to the extremes out of love for me.  But I also know that He loves everyone enough to do the same.   What makes me different?  What makes me noticeable?  Because I want Him to notice me. 
I know that each person is unique and "special" in their own way, but that doesn't satisfy my desire to excel; the desire to strive for God's special attention. 
I think we all have this competitive nature in us; some more extreme than others.  You could say to be human is to compete.  The desire towards being the best is lived out in many forms in our life: work, school,  the entertainment industry, family, our hobbies, sports (of course), and even in the ability to manage our fiances - how much we have determines our status to the rest of the world. 

"I want Him to notice me."  I sound like Zacchaeus...(was a wee little man).  I sound foolish, selfish even.  When I studied the book of Hebrews in college I was mesmerized by chapter 11, which was referred to as "The Hall of Faith".  I knew that all people mentioned there were sinners just like me, but something was different about their life.  God had taken special notice and had their lives (mistakes and all) recorded.  As futile as it sounds, I found myself jealous of David.  The man who was said to have favor with the Lord, a man after God's own heart.   And I didn't want to be like Christ, I wanted to be like David because I wanted God to pay special attention to me. 

Job had special attention....  Ok, let's skip him.

I don't know if it's right or wrong.  But I just feel so lost in the crowd when it comes to God and me. 

Everyone keeps saying, "Let God's love be enough."  How do I do that?  When all I can think of is I'm just another Jane in this world.  Just another sheep that the shepherd loves.    (This is why polygamy doesn't work, fellas.)  We all want to feel special to someone.    I want to feel special to God. 

It wasn't always this way.  I used to believe.  I was so certain that God had a specific special purpose for my life to further His kingdom.  Someone somewhere down the line woke me up from that dream, and  I just want to get it back again.  How do you become naive after you're not?  It makes  having "faith like a child" seem like an impossibility.  We are told as children that we need to "grow up!", so that's what we do.  It's hard to imagine that we had a better chance at understanding the nature of God and His relationship to the universe at the age where we still wet the bed at night. 

In the upper room there was a discussion between Jesus and His disciples. As if Jesus didn't have enough on His plate, but His friends decided to bicker over who was His "BFF".

"Jesus said to them, 'The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors.  But you are not to be like that.  Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves.  For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves?  Is it not the one who is at the table?  But I am among you as one who serves.  You are those who have stood by me in my trials.  And I confer on you a kingdom, just as my Father conferred one on me, so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.'" (Luke 22:25-30)

I like to serve others.  I get a personal joy from doing little and big jobs for people.  I believe that I would go to the ugliest smelliest most uncomfortable place imaginable for God, if He wanted me to.  The hardest thing for me to do is to live a life of mediocrity.  The proverbial question: "What if God asks you to live well and serve just where you are?"  No more, no less...  Would I feel special to Him through the everyday American middle class routine, serving just where I am?
All I know is I want God to fill in this hole in my heart with a purpose bigger than myself, bigger than the pain and all the lies left behind.  If it is wrong to look for it anywhere else, I need that kind of attention from Him. 

Yeah, What she said

This is a question that was posted in a forum I was reading.  Although not all of the details of her situation are the same; I really connected with the relationship that she describes with her fiance.
-----------
"I'm a 27f and my fiance is 24. We've been together for almost 6 years this May. Sex has been great in the past, not as much as I would like it but acceptable I guess. For the past few months he hasn't tried anything at all and blames me most of the time. He says you fell asleep or it didn't seem like you wanted it. Well I can't be staying up till 3am waiting for him to try something. And when I try he says he's too tired, happens almost everytime. I got all dressed up in lingerie the other nite lookin my best. He complimented on how sexy and beautiful I looked but again he went to sleep. To me he didn't show interest like he used too. We have been through a lot though. But I feel that should not have anything to do with sex. I don' think its a sexual issue though. I feel even when we hang out at home that things aren't the same. All he does is watch tv while I stay at the computer. I stay at the computer because I don't feel wanted by him. I think he thinks I don't want him either. Its just gotten really boring. He said that to me the other day. He said that when people have been together for as long as we have that its normal for things to get boring. I don't think he meant it to hurt me because I somewhat agree but I can't help to think if he was meaning something by saying that. It hurt. I'm not a boring girl. I like to go out and I like getting dressed up for him. I love sex all the time if I could get it. I know when I leave he puts on a movie and gets off without me. Thats really messed up though. I've had to do it without him because i'm not getting any which sucks sometimes. I'm bi and this girl is trying to meet up with me. I'm more temepted than ever. He knows i'm bi. He doesn't know i'm talking to this girl though. I want to tell him but I don't know if I should because that can open a can of worms about our relationship. He might wonder why i'm trying to meet another girl. Then he'll pull a guilt trip on me or something. What do you all think? Do I have the right to wanna hook up with this girl? Does my fiance still want me sexually? I'm so confused and need advice."


----------------------
 
Luckily, the last part of her post is not a problem for me.  But I'm sure that if I was ever put into a place where I would be tempted by a relationship with a woman, I might feel just as confused about it.   (Sorry, if the sound of that makes some of you go "WHAT??!" or think poorly of me....I'm just being honest.) 
 
I posted this because I wanted to hear some feedback about what you might say in response to this woman's confusion.

Let your light shine through

In my last post, I talked about the image that I saw in myself.  I mentioned that throughout H.S. I dated guys because it boosted my self-esteem, but only to have it crushed when I would realized that I still was not good enough to be seen by the ones that I wanted to look at me.
I simply was not made to be beautiful.

After High School graduation, my folks moved on to a new house in a new state, and I was forced to follow.  I had never even traveled this far north before and now, everything I had worked for (my reputation, my friends, my hangouts, my job..) it was all taken away.  I was starting over again.  I was starting fresh.  And after the summer was over, I would start college. 

If it wasn't soccer, then pool was my game.  Not swimming, billiards.  I knew that if I could find a pool hall in this town then I could make some new friends (aka. dates to fuel my self-esteem again).  I was used to getting guy's attention, in an environment where I was the only female available. 
Naturally, I would go in alone.  I would scan the room for prospects and then would proceed to start playing a game - solo.   It wouldn't take long before I would have a partner for the next game.  I looked at them like they were suckers, paying for my games, my drinks, my attention, my FUN...but down deep inside, past my stubborn pride, I knew who the real sucker would be.  Because without fail there was always that one guy that I would spot, and immediately I would know that he was much too good for me.  Even if he wasn't marriage material, his looks said that he would never even second glance at me.   That pool hall in Illinois was the first to break that rule.  And I quickly found myself in too deep before I knew it was happening. 
The physical attraction was so intense that all my virtues of waiting for marriage, was quickly being forgotten.  What would hold me back in the end, was my own insecurities.  I was still afraid that something about my body would turn him off of me. 

Jesse was one of those special guys.  I still have fond memories of him.  He was just as confused as I was, but in a whole nother way.  Jesse was a self-confessed sex addict.  I wasn't really sure what that meant when he told me, but I knew that I must be just another set of legs to him.  When I wasn't working the late shift, I would tell my parents that I was, and then sneak off to see Jesse.  I was afraid of him, and afraid of me, but I also wanted to indulge and push the limits a little bit.  Jesse was what people might call "cut" he had the pretty face to match the muscles too.  And I knew by the way he talked, that I was just one of many women that had noticed his beautiful body.  That fact left me feeling insecure, even in our flimsy dating relationship that we were in.  I wanted more from him.  I wanted to be special to him. 

Jesse wasn't a Christian.  Far from it, in fact.  When I told him that I was going to a Christian college, he asked me if I was going to be a nun. (uh...no.)  My connection with God was still a very high priority, and although my selfish desires had clouded my good intentions; I still really wanted to share my faith with Jesse.  We talked in depth about his search for a higher power.  I could tell that he longed for something more to this life.  Even with the sheltered view that he had of the world, he knew that without something good, all that's left is the bad.  He was searching for God.  He told me that he was waiting for a "sign" to believe.  Sadly, I had to say good-bye and go to school.  Jesse had decided to join the Job Corp.  I had hoped that I would be that "sign" he was looking for.  Instead, we went our separate ways sad and slightly annoyed with one another because of the faith based coversations. 

I was in the middle of my second semester sophomore year, when I got an unexpected letter delivered to me.  It was Jesse.  He had called my parents house to get my address. I was shocked and very excited to hear from him, especially knowing to what great lengths he went to get in touch with me.  "You must have made a lasting impression with me," he said.  With every word I read, all I could think of, was he couldn't be talking about me, because I'm nothing special.  But then I knew what it was that made him believe that I was.  Unfortunately, there's nothing that I could quote from Jesse's letter to would show you what I can see when I read it.  But through all the recorded memories and by the way he spoke about our last moments together I can tell, I was special to him.  I was special in the same way that music is to a deaf person, or touch to a blind person.  I allowed him to feel the one thing that he'd been missing. 
I began to slowly piece it all together lately.  It was something I had forgotten.  Amongst all the diet planning and workout scheduling throughout my year, I had missed the point again.  In fact, I drive myself crazy when I try to live up to my standards of beautiful.
 I can't make myself beautiful.  I can't make myself special to anyone. 
But God can.
And when I allow His light to shine through, He does.

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(Fun Fact: I am fascinated by the meanings behind names.  I looked up the meaning of "Jesse"- you should try it. Tell me what you find.  That is his real name by-the-way.)

What do we behold?

I've always wanted to be beautiful. 
Everyone does.  I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but the "beholders" that I want to impress have been far more beautiful than what my eyes have seen in my own refection.  I assume that they see the same when they look at me.   This belief along with my genetic OCD has led me down a relentless path; the pursuit of personal perfection. 

It was early on when I started to feel inferior in my physical qualities to other girls my age.  In kindergarten, my friends and I role played "Star Wars" on the playground.  There was just three of us; John Mark, Jessica, and I.  For anyone who knows about the original series will realize that there is only one girl part to choose from.  I thought Jessica was beautiful, but she was my friend and I was happy with being friends with her.  I absolutely adored John Mark.  He was my Mr McDreamy, and I wanted to be as special to him as he was to me.   But just looking at him and at our mutual friend Jessica, I knew that would be unlikely.  After all, who would ever fall in love with Darth Vader?

Even after I stepped up and stepped out of my so-called "tomboy" phase, so that people would have less reason to be confused about my gender, I still knew that I would always be a mediocre woman at best.  At night or when I was alone (which was mostly at night) my OCD would kick in full force and would wreck havoc over my entire body in search of imperfections.  To put it simply, I'm a "picker".  Every bump, every spot, every rough spot, or speculated problem area on my face and body would need to be smoothed out, because it could not be allowed to be there.  I already felt ugly (or uglier that most)and blemishes of any kind would only make that worse.  I wanted to do something to change my physical appearance.  I wanted to perfect it in every way possible, and "picking" was my only way of handling that kind of hate that I had for my body.  It didn't ease my anxiety or frustration, but it gave it an outlet so that I could survive.

When I would get made fun of, or brushed aside by my peers, I always ended up thinking to myself, "What's wrong with me?"  Because, I knew the "me" inside wasn't bad.  I knew that I loved Jesus, and that nothing made me happier than to help another person.  I was smart.  I was kind.  I had good manners.  And I could be funny, if people would just give a chance to smile.   If beauty was on the inside, then I should have been all that my Mom had told me I was and more, but it wasn't my Mom's attention that I was longing for.

I dated a lot as a teen, but was never in an ongoing exclusive relationship.  I was able to get the attention of several guys. I liked that.  It made me feel good about myself.  But that good feeling was always short lived, when I realized that the reason they liked me was because no other self respecting girl would give them a second glance.  Then I would remember the guys I did like, how untouchable they seemed to me.  The "us" would always be just a dream inside my head.  

 My biggest crush started in junior high.  Garret was good looking and everyone could see that.  He had the charm and personality to accompany his good looks.  But what really made him stand out to me was his knowledge of and pursuit after God.  His love for my lord was what made my heart jump when he would look my way.  For the whole 7 years that we were around each other, I never had the courage to show him how I felt.  In fact, when he would strike up a conversation with me, I would act as if his presence around me meant about as much as deciding what's socks to wear that day.  I would do anything not to look foolish or to be publicly embarrassed.  I would like to say that Garrett and I were friends, but because of my feelings about myself, I kept my distance from him. 

Always my dates would end up trying to pressure me into some kind of sexual action with them, and I enjoyed the attention, but the feeling of attraction was never mutual.   By the end of my H.S. years I had concluded, that I dated unattractive guys (both inside and out) because I was unattractive and that's all I could get.  That's all that I deserved.  I should learn to be content to live within my own physical limitations.  Fairness or my own feelings about the matter are irrelevant to the situation.  That's just life.

The college years began to prove me wrong.



--------------------------------------------------

second half coming soon

In this moment

Inspiration doesn't tell time.  It's almost 4 AM while I type this.  My kids have been spending some time away at Grandma's house for swimming lessons, and it has given Drew and I a much needed break to regroup ourselves.  I've spent some time watching non-Disney movies, cleaning house (while it can actually stay clean for more than 5 minutes) and other similar activities.  But the best use of my time has been spent going on walks or driving a little ways to a quiet spot, to think and pray.  Prayer and meditation has a way of putting all our stressers and worries of our past, present, and future, back into perspective. 
Realizing,  all we have is today.

It seems like such a simple concept, but ironically it took my formerly abusive father's example to open my eyes to it.  It was Mother's Day weekend, and the kids and I packed oursleves in the van.  We were off to spend time at my parents house just to be there for my mom and make her wish come true.  Drew was unable to go with us because of work.  I always end up regretting going to see my parents by myself, so I was not looking forward to making this trip alone again.  Family always brings out the worst in people, and knowing what I know now concerning the orgin of my addictions and same-sex attraction, only fuels the fire for hostility in me. 
I have to put on a face.  I have to make my indifference to the past seem real.  I must accept the hugs and kisses from the man who actions still haunt me today.  There's an obvious injustice that I am forced to ignore, because I want to be respectful of my family.  
The weekend went as well as could be expected.  We all went to church on Sunday, and afterward met up at my brother's house for lunch.  When the meal was over it was time for the kids and I to pack up and say our goodbyes.  The trip seemed without any significant incidence. We appeared to be leaving everyone on a high-note for a change.  I was thankful for that, but didn't want to waste time waiting for the winds to change before heading home.   Then just after I shut my driverside door, my dad came up to talk to me.  I began to feel my face and body tense up, not knowing what to expect.  Quietly, only audible to me, he said,"Kayt, I just wanted to tell you...I'm very proud of you and the life that you've made with your family.  I just wanted... to tell you that."  I nodded and forced a smile and subtle quiet "thank you" came out of my mouth.  Then we all waved good-bye one last time and I drove away. 
I had to make a stop again about a mile away to fill up with gas.  When I pulled up next to the pump, I was already fuming about what my dad had said.  "Just WHO does he think he is??!  What does he think that crap is gonna do?!  Does he really expect me to FORGET about all the s*#@ he's put me through?!  Like that one little gesture is gonna make everything ok between us!  He hasn't changed...NOTHING's changed." 
I went inside the station to pay with cash, and the whole time....I had this unexplainable ache in my chest.  Some guy followed me out of the building asking me for change, and I gave it to him; which had me calmed down again while I put my seat belt on.  As I started to get on the highway, I realized that my poor reaction to my dad's words had made me the bad guy this time. 
I like road trips.  They give me a lot of time to think.  I had three hours to reflect upon my father's words to me.  By the time I was getting onto my exit, God had sifted through my pain and bitterness to show me the heart that exists; a heart that can still love and understand. 
I realized that my dad came to my door to say those heart felt words all on his own.  Nothing prompted him.  There was no need for apologies that day; he hadn't done anything wrong.  But still, he went out of his way to tell me that my life meant something to him.  He was proud of me.  He didn't have to tell me how he felt, but he did.  And I had spent all this time on the road resenting him for his kindness.  I had been looking at the past and considering what might be the future, and  forgetting what was happening in the now.  He did all that he could in that moment.  In that moment, he was the best father I'd ever known. 

Believe it or not, I was still reluctant to share this story about my dad doing something right on here.  I'm still getting the hang of this "forgiveness" thing.  But I am beginning to see that the big picture is in the small things. 

I tell my kids to clean up their room once in awhile.  Every time I do, you can see it in their faces how overwhelmed they feel by looking at the mess that lies before them.  Understanding this same feeling of defeat before the start, I come to their aide with some comforting advice.  "Don't look at the whole room.  Instead, just pick up one toy at a time, and put it away until there are no more toys to pick up."  I know that it's nothing profound to most of us, but to a small child with a messy room, it was relief from a hopeless situation. 

I feel that same relief when I look at my recovery and my relationships with others that way.  There have been many times where I would want to ask for forgiveness for my sinful thoughts or bad decisions, but felt reluctant to even talk to God, because I knew that my history spoke for itself and my repentance would not last.  So what's the point in trying?  I was defeated from the start.  Those feelings of hopelessness would lead to hating myself, feeling trapped, and suicidal thoughts.  I was jealous of those who would speak of their addictions in the past tense, not knowing how I could ever be in that position with the way I am.  But my father showed me the way.  Just by taking one day at a time saying,"In this moment, I am doing ok.  In this moment, I'm doing it right." 
Forget about the past.  Don't worry about the future.  All we have is this moment. 
And I can do my best in that.

When push comes to ...ask?

Hello, I know that you tried to contact me - thanks for that.  I've been in kind of a bad place lately.  I'm married and have always been involved with the church, and so I am selective with whom I talk to about my feelings and problems that I face.  A support team is important to me because I have seen how secrets have kept me scared and in the dark within my past.  Recently, those that I would call upon when I needed some encouragement have been preoccupied, living their own life, to continue to help me with mine.  I understand why they need to focus on their families and themselves, but I am concerned ...  Where do I go now? 
It's not that I'm a needy person, but that I am worried that without support being there, I will forget the "why"  I needed them in the first place.    I'm beginning to understand why people seek out paid professionals for help.  I, however, do not have a surplus of money to put towards this.  With the state that my relationship is in with my spouse at the present time, it wouldn't feel right to use his earnings on myself like that anyway.   Any suggestions?

status update

I apologize if you have been checking on here and noticed that I haven't written anything new in two weeks.  Spending time alone and reflecting can stir up some dust sometimes, and I can see that metaphorically, my life seems rather dirty right now. 
One of my goals in writing this blog is to be completely honest and open to myself and others about my thoughts, feelings, and events that take place. 
I don't feel as if I can do that in the place I'm in right now.    Give me some time, I'm sure that I will come around to talking about all my "secrets" again.  Thanks for your patience.

Reflection: "alone time"

Garrett was in my dream last night.  I finally confessed to him, after all these years of keeping it secret, that I had a crush on him in Jr High and High School.  ("Crush" seems like such a small word, because to me  with all the memories of my feelings for him, it felt more like love.)
I told him that I knew I was kind of a dork then, but now...  He took it really well, but also a little matter-of-fact.  Whether it made a difference to his perspective or not, it felt good to just get it off my chest and out into the open.  When I awoke, that good feeling crossed over too.  Even if it wasn't the real thing, I got what I needed out of it.  I let go of my secret.

  "A pool of water won't reflect unless it's absolutely still." -Unknown

Dreams are sometimes reflections of ourselves.  When we dream, we reflect upon our day, our week, our life.  Anything from insignificant details like how we floss our teeth or what we wore to bed, to grander thoughts like meeting the love our life or the fear we have about losing a family member;  these images and/or ideas that plague our mind will go on to create elaborate stories within our subconscious.
 Lately, I've been watching a show consumed with dreams and the possibilities that entail through their interpretation.  "Medium" is a TV series in which the title alone will raise the red flag with some people, but I find it to be entertaining.  Beyond the main character's obvious psychic ability to connect with the dead or those in trouble, her powers are most seen while asleep in the bedroom.  She foretells the future with her dreams, or sees the past in her nightmares.  But what I really find fascinating in all of this, is that just like anyone else's dream, what she witnesses while she's asleep is not always reliable for finding meaning.  They may still contain a reflection of herself entangled within.  Her humanity gets in the way of seeing the truth. 

Even though, I'm not a psychic or a prophetess with an ability to dream the future, I still wake up from a dream or nightmare that makes me spend some of my day gnawing over events after I wake.  I wonder..."What does this dream say about me?" 

"Reflection" is a mirroring  of oneself, or a situation.
It's good to spend time in "reflection".  Some people call it meditation, others might call it quiet time.  I like to call it my "alone time".  No matter what word you use, this time set aside for self-examination to gather your thoughts together -to reflect upon your life or day thus far, is as necessary as the air you breath in maintaining a healthy mind and a focused life.
It's important to me that I spend time asking all the deep hard questions, such as: "Why do I do the things I do?" or "Why do I believe that way about that?"  Or sometimes just trying to figure out what is going on inside me that made me react with such strong emotions to a certain situation  (i.e. a fight with my husband, a phone call with my mom or dad, or a friend who doesn't see things the same as me.)

I understand that just like looking for a deeper meaning in a dream where many times there is none, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar in life as well.  Sometimes bad grades in school are just from poor study habits.  Sometimes a fight between a couple is just a childish power play or raising a fist in the name of "fairness".  But sometimes...many times, there is another reason hiding somewhere between the ordinary and the simple explanations. 

We hide the darkness that we fear lives inside.  We hide it not because we're worried about the after life, but because showing it (it= failures, faults, temptations, fears, dreams, and doubts) might ostracize us from friends, family, and the society circle that we live in.  We even hide it from ourselves, believing that our acknowledgement of "it" would make it more real.  And ignoring it might make it go away.  We worry that our humanity might get in the way.

A time of personal reflection is good, but keep in mind that the mirror image of oneself is not a clear one until we reach out for a second opinion.

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Next post will be a continuation of this one. 

Your comments will help.  Thanks!

Retreat!!! Run for your lives!

Attention Facebook: I am leaving the women's group (of a place that will remain unnamed), because
1) I know bunkus about "Bunco"
    And
2) I have a fear of intimacy with other women.

Recently, I was invited to a Women's Retreat that our congregation is promoting.  Last year, I didn't go because of the cost of the trip.  But after being comfronted about the possibility of  going to this years, I remembered that money was never the real issue; Fear was.

What am I scared of? 
When it comes to emotions like fear or surprise, you feel it first and experience the sensation in your body before you understand what it is that made you feel that way.  This is no different.   I wasn't sure why I was so hesitant, but then every time the cost would be mentioned for the trip, I would automatically tense up.  Ir's because, I knew that the conference alone was not costing nearly a hundred dollars.  The women speakers would only charge close to half that.  The gas and hotel stay would take up the rest.  And suddenly there it was again - the fear inside me.  I was scared of staying in the hotel room with the other women.
When I realized the source of my reluctance to go, it didn't make very much sense to me.   I've been to countless sleep overs and slumber parties...all-nighters, you name it!   And I remember feeling cautious about myself, because I had been labeled certain ways before, but I'd never felt this terrified. 

I don't want any of you to misunderstand me.  I'm not saying that I'm scared of feeling tempted to have dirty or lustful thoughts.  That is always a concern for me in my present mental and emotional state, but that is not what scares me.   Even after coming all this way: from believing I was born to be a man; to embracing motherhood with the ability to be a good wife, knowing that God has fashioned me in that way.  I still feel like an outsider when I'm in close-quarters with other ladies my age and older.  And there is nothing more intimate in our daily schedules than to sleep within the same room with one another. 

I don't have an answer to this one....  
I'm open to hear YOUR thoughts on how to better understand this.

Memoirs of a suicide victim

What time can't do, love will.

Remember the expression, "There's not enough time in the world"?  There's never enough time in a day, in a week, month, or year; it seems, to get done what you want to accomplish and still have those moments to breathe in deep.   And yet sometimes you enter a period of life when the days seem eternal, keeping you prisoner to the skin you're living in.

I had an uncle David.  The memory will forever be imprinted inside my head.  The feelings of hurt, helplessness, and hatred toward his actions have left their scars on my heart. 
I'd like to say I knew him well, but I didn't.  Most of my memories of my uncle consist of him sitting on my grandma's couch and smoking a cigarette before heading off to work at the hospital.  My mom had talked about him while I was growing up, and that is where most of my knowledge of uncle David stems from -hearsay. What I heard was eye-opening. 

David's dad (my grandfather) died while he was still in high school from a heart attack.  David complained to my mom many times that his dad had been abusive in his anger to him.  My mom, of course, denies that anything horrible ever happened inside that home.  She remembers her father to be a respectable and loving man.   My mom also let it slip to me later on that my uncle had thought himself a homosexual at one time, possibly having male lovers...no one would know for sure.  David grew up in the church, but it had been over 20 years since he stepped inside a church building.  He had tried to find help, to find counsel with the minister of the congregation when he was a teen and confided in this man about his emotions and homosexual attraction.  My mother tells me that things seemed to be looking up for him after that.  David was becoming more involved in the youth group and appeared genuinely interested in conquering these "obstacles" in his life, until... he was betrayed. 

David signed up to be a part of a routine mission trip to another country.  A mission trip that all other three of his siblings had taken before him, but one thing would stand in his way.  The preacher (his confidant) was listed as one of his three references on his application.  He ended up writing a letter that not only "outed" David as a struggling homosexual, but also strongly recommended that he should NOT be allowed to go on this trip.    David somehow got wind of this letter and what had been said, and immediately closed the door on the church forever.  Later, he would have a fiance'  and she would end up leaving him because he didn't engage in sex with her before marriage.  It was told to me that all she really wanted was a baby from him anyway.  But all this happened before my time.  Still, my mom had no idea just what kind of connection she was personally orchestrating between my uncle and I through her gossip-like stories. 
I would never have the guts to approach him about these stories until I was well into my third year in college. 

Every year at the Christian college that I attended, they would have a break in the spring that would not be called Spring Break.  They called it Week of Evangelism (aka Week of E.).  Many students would just go home or do their "own thing" just like any other school break.  But some would go on various student lead or sometimes professor lead trips to help out other churches in other countries or in other states inside our own.  My grandmother was sick, and had been spending a lot of time in the hospital, so I decided to go see her.  Knowing that my uncle David lived with her, I considered using this opportunity to open up those doors of conversation that no one in my family had dared to.   I wanted to help.  I wanted to tell him that I understood.  I wanted to express the connection that I felt that I shared with him all these years.  Mostly, I wanted him to know that he was loved, because I always got the distinct feeling that he never felt that from anyone else in his life.  My heart was in torment to talk to him.  I needed to go.  So I did, and I took a friend with me (Drew).

Uncle David had been threatening suicide for a couple of years.  My mom would cry on the phone to him not to talk like that, but I doubted that anyone by this time was taking his words very seriously.  When I arrived at my uncle's doorstep to spend the night, he greeted me at the door by saying that my grandma had passed away while I'd been traveling to get there.  My heart felt crushed in that moment.  All these thoughts of regret of time lost and opportunities to call or write to her that I had passed up,  felt suffocating.  
My uncle David snapped me out of my grief, by telling me that he would understand if I wanted to turn around and head back now, or to stay with my uncle Steve instead of him. 
I wanted to say, "Oh you silly man, don't you know?  I'm here to see you.  God sent me to you."
 No, I really wanted to laugh hysterically (because I was feeling a little hysterical).  Instead, I smiled and said, "Of course not.  I'm here to spend time with you too." 
      
I spent the whole week at his tiny apartment.  We went to the funeral together.  We went to the grave site together, and all of the special arranged family events, but none of it seemed like a good opportunity to approach him about his life or mine.  I don't know what I was waiting for.  Perhaps a sunbeam from heaven, or a dove landing on his shoulder.  I was scared.  What if the stories were just stories?  What if he denied it?  What if he got mad?

 I knew something was wrong.  He kept wanting to go back to her grave over and over again.  It was more than just grief and tears that needed to be released.  I think he was envious of her.   We finally shared a moment in his car together one night before I had to leave.  I told him that it was ok to be mad at God for letting his mom die.  I wanted him to know that it was alright and normal to feel that way.  He told me that God doesn't control these sort of things.  He said that these things just happen and God can't do anything about it, so why would he be angry with Him?  I shook my head, because I knew that was not true.  I said, "Nothing is impossible with God."  Then I got more out of my comfort zone by singing a special song to him that I wanted to share. 

I'm not sure if anything I did or said meant anything.  I left that Texas town feeling confident that God had a purpose for it all.  He had sent me there, and I had followed his leading. 
Three days later, my phone is ringing off the hook and I just want to take a nap in between classes.  but the message finally got to me that day.  It was a Wednesday; I'll never forget it.  They told me he shot himself not in the head, but with the barrel pointed straight at his heart.   I remember thinking, how poetic of him, and then how bastardly selfish of him.  Then that frustration turned toward God saying, "What the heck, God?! What was the point??"    My feelings for my uncle continued to go south.  I felt like I wanted to kill him (if he wasn't already dead).  So many swear words come to mind, but I won't list them here. 
I was so angry with him, and I still am a little.  But those claws started to retract a bit when I heard of the lack of care and respect that his family was showing him.  Even in death, he was receiving second-hand love.  Even in death, they gave him little if any respect.  The comments that were made were mostly about his debts that he left behind.  And I can't even imagine what his life was like.  Is it really any wonder that he felt so motivated to take it?  Is it really?

I've felt suicidal before, but only in the heat of the moment.  I can only imagine (thank God) what it must be like to live in that moment all day, every day.  And I don't know what else to say about all of this.

Except love heals.   No one is to blame for anybody's suicide, but just because we are not to blame doesn't keep us from falling victim to its destruction.  Love can be the prevention.

Sincerity of that love can mend what time of constant wear and tear has made broken.  Notice I said "can".   But if there's something that can be done....

For those that want it,  here's a special challenge  (I am challenging myself too) make a list of people, write it down, those close to you and those not so much, who are way over due for some attention from you or from anyone.  If you are having trouble then just think of someone who is angry all the time.  People tend to be grumpy for a reason.  Think of those people in your life that might as well be the hanging on the wall or the doorstop, because they seem so unimportant.  I understand we all need to be loved, but I think what you and I forget is that many of us have our sources of love, while many others have their many sources of heartache and affliction.
If you are that person, and your life feels like a prison.  I can assure you that there is more than just help out there for you.
 There is love.

Back to the challenge:  You've got your list.  Memorize it, pray over it, sleep with it ....Invest yourself in these people.  Before anyone will believe that they are important in your life, you must believe it yourself. 
The next part is simple but not easy, because we all have our busy lives with our busy schedules...families, work, etc.  But remember how important that love is to you in your own life and maybe that will help.
Last Step: Plan out time each week to show that love to someone on your list.  This could mean a phone call, an email or special text ( written letters tend to last longer though -Hint Hint) a hug, a talk at lunch, ..be creative/ but be real.  If you are stumped on what to do, than I would suggest you think about what would mean the most to you.  What would brighten your day?  Yeah, do that. 
Love heals.
 Let the love begin.


(If anyone would like to contact me: kaytmasterson@gmail.com)  Also, for info on suicide prevention or causes you might be interested in visiting http://www.twloha.com/ .

I'm pro choice

There are some things that can't be avoided.  Yet there are many situations where the choice is ours to make.   
I had intended to start this post out with a quote by a famous 20th Century poet.  The quote itself is excellent and to the point, but the poet and her life is a different story entirely.  I like words, almost as much as I like music.  Words are powerful.  It may not be true that the pen is mightier than the sword, but for certain they both can be just as effective. 

Adrienne Rich, now a renown lesbian movement phenom, had many choices to make.  According to an Internet biography, she is the daughter of Arnold Rice Rich who was a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins Medical School.  Born around the 1930's, her feminism had many obstacles to overcome before it became full swing.  For one, her father was hoping to groom her to be a pathologist or something similar to his own profession.  Her second "obstacle",was her family's Christian values and beliefs concerning matters of the home.  Which (according to her own words) led her to believe that she needed to marry to become a more acceptable and successful woman in the world.
"I married in part because I knew no better way to disconnect from my first family [...] I wanted what I saw as a full woman's life, whatever was possible."
 Marrying didn't hold her back much from her mission of self discovery and pushing the limits of society through her written words.  In the meantime, she gave birth three times to boys.  But the mother of three sons kept digging and chipping away through any means that she could muster.  Adrienne was said to be an extremist in the anti-war effort during Vietnam.  Her home was used as a gathering place for many Black Panther meetings.  While she fought all these grand battles against "The Man" and the system, her husband was losing his mind,; believing that she had lost hers already.  Alfred Conrad finally was divorced from her in the 70's, which became his final trigger to take his own life soon after. 
Adrienne continues her life and sexual exploration seemingly not mourning her late husband as any form of loss.  Her success continues to this day through her many published works.

This story makes me sick to my stomach.  Not because she's a lesbian now, or because she was a pillar in the feminism movement; but for her lack of concern for anyone around her.  I understand that some people will read about her life and become inspired to break free of their own chains that hold them back, but I see something different. 
I see myself. 

I've never seen the movie Brokeback Mountain, but I have been tempted to - just from curiosity.   From what I've heard of the movie and seen in the trailers, these two men who find love in their eyes for each other, both have wives waiting at home for them...trusting them to be the faithful men that they promised to be.  To me, that doesn't make for an entertaining movie.
The whole idea of branching out and "finding yourself" is very popular today, and for good reason.  It's powerful.  It's self indulgent nature, to run away as far as you need to go and to push as hard as you need to push and trample down the ones who deserve to be trampled because they got in your way of finding your happily ever after, is very appealing.    It's compelling and attractive ....until you open your eyes and become resensitized to the lives that you've hurt in the name of "I".   

I visited another church this past Sunday.  It was a small congregation full of younger attractive men and women.  There was only one person that came to say "hello".  When she introduced herself, I was preoccupied thinking about my sticky hands from my kids donuts that they had grabbed before the service, that I didn't hear her name.  It was a casual conversation and I honestly didn't feel much about it, even after realizing how beautiful the woman was sitting next to me.  Everyone has a "type" and she fit the description for mine; I knew it and brushed it aside.  Before I excused myself to the bathroom to wash off the mess still on my fingers, I thought to ask for her name again.  I hesitated because for a split second, I was unsure of "why" I wanted to know.  So I walked away...  Later that morning, she was in my line of sight again, and I experienced what men would refer to as a "turn on" or in the world of Wayne (aka Wayne's World), a "shwing".  This happens a lot when I'm around attractive ladies, and I feel awkward and ashamed every time.  I cannot deny that I like feeling that way though.  That kind of physical stimuli is important to me.  Is it important enough to act on it and leave my family in the dust just to experience more?  Absolutely not!  
But that is MY choice.

I was thinking....

It's been awhile since I stepped in front of a car ...I think I should write a new one.  I'll be typing it up tomorrow morning.  So check back on your lunch break.

Perfectly Imperfect and proud of it

I have observed the power of the watermelon seed.  It has the power of drawing from the ground and through itself 200,000 times its weight.  When you can tell me how it takes this material and out of it colors an outside surface beyond the imitation of art and then forms inside of it a white rind and within that again a red heart, thickly inlaid with black seeds each one of which in turn is capable of drawing through itself 200,000 times its weight - when you can explain to me the mystery of a watermelon, you can ask me to explain the mystery of God.     ~William Jennings Bryan

We are all created perfectly imperfect.  God thinks I'm useful, but I feel like the biggest screw-up that has walked the earth.  I remember that Paul who wrote the majority of the New Testament in the Bible,  characterized himself in a similar way.  So do we all think we are the worst of the worst? 

"It seems that my greatest argument is denial."
One of the readers wrote back to me asking what exactly I was denying?  I prefaced my answer by saying that what I meant by "denial" was more like living in the state of, rather than just denying one thing or another.  More to the point, I live within my own set of expectations that I place upon myself, and assume that those beliefs about me are equal to God's. 
How is it even possible that I would expect more from me than God, Himself? 

I have believed that the show of my life should look spotless with my obedience to God and His will.   When I fall short, I beat myself down; not just for my "sin" but because of my imperfection.  My imperfect nature causes me constant frustration and self-ridicule.  I don't mean to argue with God about anything, but when I consider myself only created to fail, that's exactly what I'm doing. 
I'm still fighting off the ghosts of my past.  I know that reprogramming takes time.  I am beginning to realize how unnecessary it is to hate myself over that, when my expectations in God and myself are not met.


If God tells me to "Jump" or if He tells me to "Stay" in my troubled marriage or if He says "Keep on living" when I feel like giving up because I failed again....I need to remember that He is God and He will have His way, whether I argue with Him or not.
 
God, understanding this imperfect nature and my impulses to do things the wrong way, still chooses me for His work.  He still wants me, to love ....and then to love Him.

I AM the greatest

I expect so much from myself, yet I trust myself with so little.


Getting down to it, I always thought that if God says "Jump!" Your response should be "How high?" if not just to jump immediately. And if you think yourself unable to perform said action, for example (given the analogy) you are a cripple, your response should be the same. BECAUSE He's God! Who can argue with Him? ......Who am I to argue with Him?

Arguing with God... that reminds me of many "greats" written about in the Bible.

There was Jonah, probably the most common arguer remembered. He argued because he believed that God WOULD do the unthinkable or impossible, and he didn't want that to happen. God had to send a large mouth to talk some better sense to him. And even though Jonah eventually obeyed God's command, his heart never seemed to change.

I think most people forget that Moses argued with God. Before he became known for the Ten Commandments and the Twelve Plagues, Moses was a fugitive and a runaway. When God approached him about the mission "Save Israel", Moses had already made a life for himself and was happy and content to live out his days in it. He understood who God was and his position that he deserved, at His feet. He didn't understand why God would ask him to leave where he was at peace, to go and start a war with Egypt. More specifically, Moses argued that you got the wrong guy, God. Saying, "Surely YOU can do better than me!" So God said "Fine! Would it make you feel better, if I gave you an assistant?".
God wasn't budging from his plan to send Moses or Jonah, and he found the right ways to make them understand that.

The last character that comes to mind is Peter. Simon Peter had the balls to argue with God right to His face. Jesus gave Peter his horoscope and Peter said, "No way! I would never. You're wrong God!" To put it simply, Peter argued whether God really knew him better than he knew himself. In the end, fear and/or embarrassment won out over what Pete knew was right. The power of a moment and the loss of logical thought processes that goes with, was proven true right there with him. God knew he would fail, and told him so. Peter believed himself to be better than that though, even though that required him to debate with what he believed was the son of God. 

These are the "greats" folks. Yet here I sit, expecting more from myself than them.
It seems that my greatest argument is denial.


--------------------------------

I would like to do a follow up post on this. Please keep checking back for that!

Gay/Bi/Lesbian or Straight - I was born this way

I handed my MP3 player off to my husband, and forgot that he had it when I drove away. So I was, in turn, "forced" to listen to the Top 40 over the radio on the way home. This song by Lady Gaga was number 15 this week.
Your thoughts?

Celebrating A full year of honesty

As of last month, it has been a year since my first blog entry.  A full year of telling honest details about my past and present, many of which I have never spoken to anyone else before.  And so I thought it was only right and fair that I let you know a little more truth about how I can write all this and also the difficulties that it presents. 

The pro:  I have gained confidence in myself by releasing the fear that kept me captive for so long.
        I started out alone with the feeling that I was doomed to forever be that way.  Me with my secrets that I would try to force out of my life only for them to reappear again and again; making my new life seem like just another lie.  I thought if people only knew the truth about me, they would hate me.  There might be rope involved even.  Unrealistic, maybe, but that was my fear.  I was taught to look at homosexuals etc like they were sick in the head, and damned for what they were and what they did.  As Christians we say, "to love the sinner and hate the sin", but many times while we are "hating the sin", the sin is all we ever see.  I hated me; because I thought that was what a Christian would do.  But with this blog and sharing with others (including other Christians) I have found that it is love and not hate that was on the other side.  Sure, people have advice and want to help, but the looks I get are not disgust.  The hugs I get are not given a second thought of hesitation.  There are no pitch forks or angry mobs coming after me, and knowing that brings relief.  I am thankful to God and to my readers for being adult about all of this.  I am most thankful that they are more grown up than me.  But I'm getting there....


The con:  I am not objective to my own life.
         With everything that I talk about or write about myself, even in past events, I write from my point of view.  But my point of view is tainted, limited.  As I move further away from where I was to where I am, some things get clearer and I start to make connections.   Yet there is always me and my perception that gets in the way.  This makes writing and truthfulness exceptionally hard.  I am trying to self analyze my situation, and come out of it with some logical solutions.   That's impossible!   I try to explain my thoughts and feeling about things, things- I still don't understand.  I pick my motivations/actions apart looking for answers, knowing that I will eventually (possibly even the next week) come back to what I just wrote and disagree with my conclusions.  In short, the biggest con is confusion.  
The only clarity that I have ever found in this life can be summed up in one word, "Christ".    When I choose Him over me, if I think more about Him and less about me, I find that open sky. 

I don't mean to preach.  This "blog" (I hate that word btw) was always meant to be a safe place for anyone/everyone to share their thoughts and beliefs.  I'd like to think that it's still that safe place.  And this my belief.   
I can't wait to hear yours.

Strategies of Defense

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."


I recognize that most everyone who has been, teased, hazed, publicly embarrassed, or in some other way broken down has had reason to develop a strategy of protection for future attacks. We each write our own chapter of defensive maneuvers. And although these strategies might differ greatly, one from another, they always share one thing in common. They are top secret.


Who am I? ...and What is "cool"?    Whatever it is, it has been the center and primary cause of my personal transformation. that which has been carried on to what I am today   Yet "cool" is also the cause of everything I have lost of what I was before. US magazine and Seventeen might think that a plus for my personality, but the upkeep of coolness has left me void of the real me. This is much more than identity issues or premid-life crisis. The pursuit after cliche' greatness was put into action by yours truly as a defense. [Without putting my life now up to a microscope for everyone to point out all my "uncool" ways, let me just say, that is missing the point.]   I changed who I was to fit in with the masses (one or another). The old me cowered under ridicule and persecution so much that a new me had to be made. The inevitable question is, would I have put so much effort into following fads if I had never been tease?

Loneliness is what I felt when I was alone. When I was around others, I was too self aware of every action and interaction to pay much attention to how I felt about my life. Not a detail would go undocumented inside my head. If I felt in a potential threatening situation,( i.e. being around people that could seriously tear me down) even something as simple as how I crossed my legs would be carefully considered. Every word, every tone, inflection, and body language was imprinted inside my memory to soon after recall and replay under high self scrutiny later on. Sometimes, I might congratulate myself on a job well done, other times...not so much. I was always on the lookout for new and better tactics. I would find those sometimes in movies, in music lyrics, from others conservations, and sometimes just watching people in a crowded area like a restaurant or mall would give me improvised ideas. But the loneliness was always there, waiting to remind me that I was fake.

After years of progression away from the original Kayt, the process of faking it, didn't take so much thought. This was the me that I created. The me that hate had made. I still clung onto God. He was the only one that knew from where I came. I think that was what really kept us close. A seemingly silent and faceless figure was the only one that knew my secrets. He offered me His always listening ear, and the closest thing to cure my pain in the down times; times when all I would want to pray for was for someone who understood. I longed for someone to know me. I hoped and prayed for that even long after I even acknowledged to myself that I was indeed faking. I had become unaware of all the acting that I was doing on a daily basis, but still aware of the feeling it left behind.

I think I would have put up a moat around myself, if I thought it would've kept the monsters out. Unfortunately, the monsters lived mostly in my memories and through those same voices replaying inside my head. I was like Scooby and Shaggy piling everything in front of the door that the monster had come through before, thinking I had him all locked out. Then I turn around and see that the monster was the one helping me and now I'm trapped inside because of the barricade that I have made to keep him out.

My relationships have suffered over this. Including friendships, potential friendships, extended family relationships, and of course the relationship that I have with my spouse.  In fact, Drew and I had a conversation about my "coolness" the other day. You see, when Drew and I met, I had him fooled. There was not much effort put to it, or even aimed in his direction, because it was just habit by then. He later told me just how intimidating I was to him, appearing to have it all together. As we got closer the walls started to come down a bit, especially after I confessed my attraction to women to him and details about my past. But it wasn't till our conversation recently that I realized, I'm still putting on that face for him and when I do, I start to believe in that tough and confidently cool girl that I portray. I start to believe that she is me, the real me. ....And that I'm better than him.

It's not me. It becomes me. Sometimes that's okay, but what is my motivation?

I started out running away from dresses; loving dirt and the outdoors. Others did not approve of my hair style, my walk, my clothes, and the activities I enjoyed so I sought after someone more feminine than me. And behind my eyes, I pretended to be her. "Her" was not any one person but a compilation of many. I got into character for the role that I needed to play. Rosa was my inspiration to improve my character to someone who would attract men. She was flirtatious, but still innocent and smart. She would dumb herself down just for those occasions to get a boy to like her. The clothes were easier to change than the walk. With the walk, I really had to practice. One foot in front of the other like on a tight rope, but with sass and confidence, never ever look down. At a time in my life when I should have been modeling myself after Christ, I was putting all my energy into my cover-up. 

I know it's not just me. Many others practice their faces in the mirror before heading out to work, church, or school. We took the imagination that used to take us to far off places as children, and created a more acceptable and less afraid adult. Many of us don't even recognize our created characters anymore. We have done it for so long, that we don't know what is happening to us when the real begins to show through. It's shocking and frightening, like we are losing control. And we must always be in control.
What would happen if we let it show?

Janet is going through a divorce. She has two kids; one from a previous marriage gone wrong. And Janet is worried about letting people in on her crumbling marriage. She thinks people gossip about her husband and family already and of course that bothers her. She was the one who left this time, and he acts like he wants her back. But her mind is made up. She's done. Although when they go to public events they are together. In church they sit together. They shake hands together. He leads her into the room with his hand on the small of her back. I see this happening and I think, "That's great! I'm glad that they are working things out.", but they're not. Janet tells me that it's just an act, because she doesn't want to make a scene/scandal for people to talk about. And I can't believe what I'm hearing from her. She is hanging out with this guy pretending like everything is wonderful, when in reality she can't stand him anymore. She is willing to sacrifice so much just to save herself from possible ridicule. So she pretends in front of her friends.
Her friends.....

What if the monsters are just in our heads?
I mean, if we are all pulling the same tricks for each other, what would happen if someone had the courage to finally unwrap their mask? Would we have the courage to follow them? 
Or would we stand and point?


"If weakness is a wound that no one wants to speak of, then 'cool' is just how far we have to fall. And I am not immune, I only want to be loved, but I feel safe behind the firewall. Could I lose my need to impress? If you want the truth, I need to confess. I'm not alright."
-Sanctus Real

be patient

I have been working on a new post, but it's not quite ready yet.  I have been incredibly busy and when I have any free time, all I want to do is relax or go to bed.

But here's a hint about the next post:

Imagine...
Everything you appear to be is everything you're not. 

Believe...
There is more to life than just to make it through another day without being hurt again.

Follow...
In the footsteps back to your youth.  Things were not always this scary.  The monsters are real, but are not chasing you anymore. 

It's time...
For demolition.

Your time...
And mine, to finally be understood.

Let's talk about

Sex..
has been my drug addiction for the past six years.

Our society finds it so easy to sing about it, make jokes about it, design sitcoms about it, create magizine quizs or "dos and don'ts" about it, but for someone to actually discuss their personal experiences surrounding their own sex-life ...that's getting too personal.
And admittingly, I had to have a drink before writing about this.

The term "sex" can mean a lot of things.  Although everything is better with a friend, it is not always mandatory to reach that sexual high.   Anything addictive is ultimately a selfish desire working it's way to its fulfillment.    And self-love has no place inside intimacy.  Naturally, porn is born because of this followed by strip clubs and prostitution.  Everyone wants to feel that high without the worry of caring for another person.  That would require a relationship, and a relationship means work.  And intimacy means transparency which can lead to ridcule and change  i.e. more work.
I need a lot of work.

My first real sexual experience was with my husband, Drew.  We were not married or engaged at the time. I was still clinging onto the idea that Ben and I would someday get back together.  My heart was damaged so badly by Ben and I never thought it would recover.  But one night in the back of a car with Drew would mark the beginning of something new.  It didn't feel "dirty" or like something we needed to think twice about.  And instantly I felt a closeness to Drew like we had been like this for lifetimes before.  "Exposed" didn't seem awful      
 and intmacy was what kept us coming back for more, instead of chore.  We felt connected.  I felt at peace.

Before Drew, before Ben, I was alone.  I dated more guys than I care to remember.  None of them would amount to anything significant in my life, and I knew that from the start.  But I thought I needed to go out with them to feel like a normal girl.  I thought I needed them around and wanting me, to be beautiful.  After I achieved the level of desire in my date, I was ready to move on.  I discarded them like they were used needles, and I didn't feel bad at all for using them for my own pleasures.  I would rather be the user than be the used.

A marriage takes work.  It takes patience and unbending commitment to not only live with another person as part of your family, but to also contiuously churn that fire of desire for that person; loving them more than yourself.  My mother-in-law must have realized this from her marriage, when she spent close to two hundred dollers on tickets to a marriage seminar for her son and I to go to. I don't remember much of what was said by speaker Gary Smalley; what I do remember most was having lunch with my husband.  Those with small children I'm sure can relate that there are not many times when you and your spouse get that time to get away from the titles of "mommy and daddy".  That short 45 minute lunch break gave Drew and I a chance to not only reflect on all the info from the conference it gave us a moment to reflect on ourselves; where we were going; where we want to be; and how we thought we would get there.  We talked about our future goals.  We prayed about our past. And we relaxed in the present knowing that times like these don't last too long. For now, we felt reconnected.

Marriage is more than sex   Yet sex is necessary to maintain a healthy relationship.  I struggle with that fact a lot in my marriage.  It's not because I don't desire a sexual relationship; I do.  It's just that it takes so much effort to get to that opportunity.  The problem is not just time, kids, work schedules, sleep schedules, mood schedules, or stress in the home.  It's all of those things and add in for each of us our past experiences both with each other and others, and you have a great cocktail of unhappiness and sexual frustration.  That frustration becomes exaggerated in our effort to fulfill our own desires.  We need that connection on more levels than just physical.  But still, when I get angry and annoyed with Drew and knowing that our relationship is not what it should be, blaming him, blaming me, blaming God and life, I feel alone and like I have to look after myself in the name of self preservation.  Because if I don't, no one else will.
My eyes search for a cure for my pain.  I know how that first feeling with Drew felt, and I want to always go back there again and again.  But all the masturbation or fantasies about another will never bring me back to that high.  As much as it pains me sometimes, I realize that I need him.  I need to love him and him to care for me in order to be satisfied.  In my anger, I remembered only the peacefulness I felt that first night together; making the mistake of thinking that the climax was what got me there.  When all along the high was in the relationship.

Now I could blame my previous porn addiction or the TV shows I've watched, books I've read, different avenues that I took to explore my attraction to women. But that blame doesn't solve anything.  When the fact is, I think about sex all the time now.  I assume, looking around in other people eyes, that they think about it too.  But they don't.  And it's come to this- me alone, my husband feeling alone, and both of us trying to get our needs met by the other.  I don't know a lot about good relationships, but I know what love is, and what love is not.  Love is not self-seeking.  Although I sacrifice much of myself daily for my family, I am guilty of not loving.  As long as I continue to love myself more, I will never be available to receive that peace that I've been searching for.

I want to forget about sex.  Let's talk about love.