"What do you say when sorry is not enough?" -Tre Williams (The Revelations)
Unexpectedly she catches my eye. Unprepared I look away. I don't want to stare so I look down at my feet. My mind a mess with dialogue. Both sides presenting a convincing case. On one hand I know how I'm feeling right now and I don't want to give in to the thoughts or hint to the room how I'm feeling. On the other hand, I'm a grown married woman and this is ridiculous for me to feel embarrassed at appreciating the beauty of another lady. Still debating my choices, I hear a voice next to me say "hello". Stunned by the sudden friendliness from a stranger I say a late "hi:" and look up just in time to see her pass by. I feel ashamed to even look at her. She's so beautiful. Why did she have to talk to me? Why couldn't she just leave me alone? But how could she know...
... a simple greeting would make things difficult for me?
This scene played out a few months back while I sat at the optometrist's office waiting for my turn to be helped. It was going to be a long wait, I could tell. The "she" was another patient. No relationship was made. No more words were said between us. And still my day completely changed from in control to rampant. The aftermath is always the same: guilt followed by deep depression. And the feeling of "I don't want to do this anymore. Someone please make it stop..."
I have a loving husband. Between his long hours at work and spending a little quality time with the kids, I know that he tries his best to make me feel like I'm his world. But anyone that has young children demanding your time and a husband that is gone often understands the need for a friend outside of it all.
It's not easy meeting new people, let alone developing a meaningful relationship once you are an adult and out of school. Hence, we develop online dating sites and mom circles with chat rooms. Clinging onto old friendships even if long distant is the only way some of our social lives survive. In general, adults are lonely people. Good thing that we can fake it well.
I had put on the pounds while going through two pregnancies, and even with all my efforts had shown little progress in losing them. It had gotten so bad that when I looked in the mirror I hardly recognized my face. I didn't appear grotesquely overweight, because I'm so tall. However, the question of when my baby was due rang through my ears more times than I want to count. I had always been athletic and working out in a weight room was more of hobby than a chore for me. This new body made me embarrassed and shy in social situations. I lacked confidence in myself even more than I had before. At church, because I was still new to the congregation, I was anxious that this was the "me" that everyone thought I had been all along.
I never thought I had a prejudice against those who struggle with their weight, but my own attitude towards myself was revealing some ugly facts. When I was approached by someone as beautiful as Veronica, I felt even uglier.
I met Veronica and her family of four at a social gathering at church. Immediately I thought, why is she even talking to me? .But knowing that they were all just being friendly and doing their part to make me feel welcome at the event, I shrugged it off. Still, I made a mental note to stay away from her because of her attractiveness. That was my only game plan that I carried with me from my past. STAY AWAY.
And I did.
Another lady from church trying to reach out invited me to a Tupperware party that she was hosting. I laughed to myself about it because I'm not that sort of lady. It seemed so cliche' to even be invited, but I was lonely and desperate for time away from the kids, so I went.
I called to RSVP my spot at the party and was told to meet up at another ladies house so we could car pool. Veronica drove the car pool. The party was hosted out of the city. We all laughed and there was much less talk about the greatness of Tupperware than I'd imagined. I actually had fun. As it got later some of the ladies in our group had to leave early because it was a weeknight. So many had left, that when it was time to go, it was just Veronica and I in the car ride back. I did my best to get over my nervousness and pretend that it's no big deal. She was nice and easy to talk to. She was what I'd call "on the level". By that I mean, she was not your average uptight Christian woman homemaker. We chatted a little about her, her neighbor (who had also came to the party), and a little about music. By the time the car ride was over, I felt much more at ease. We seemed to have a lot in common. I thought this might be the real friendship that I'd been waiting for. And I was excited about that idea. Her beauty was not intimating to me anymore.
(This next part is going to be difficult to describe to you. I apologize in advance for my vagueness but I know my audience and I don't want them to know who I am speaking of.)
Since the Tupperware night, Veronica's family and mine had become involved with a group at church that met on a somewhat weekly basis. On most evening that we met with our group I had to go alone with my kids because Drew had to work. That didn't bother me that much. I'm an independent person who doesn't need my "other half" holding my hand all the time to feel whole. Most of the members of the group felt sorry for me, I could tell. That only made their gestures of friendship seem that much more forced. Who wants to be pitied? I wanted something genuine. Veronica took an interest in getting to know me.
Rosa had just ditched me after my confession to her and I was still brokenhearted about it.
I'm certain that my depression over Rosa led to me to over think my interactions with Veronica.
Our group had a couples fun night. No kids allowed. Drew had to work again so I thought about not going. When he found out that I wasn't going because of him, he practically pushed me out the door. So I dropped off my kids at the sitters and went on my way to the restaurant. By the end of the evening, Veronica and I had spent a lot of time talking and laughing. Although not in great detail,I told her about a friend from my past that had recently defriended me on Myspace and Facebook and I still was bummed about it. I was having such a great time with everyone that I started giving out hugs to say goodbye. When I hugged Veronica I lifted her off the ground...that's where my memory stops. I'll try to explain.
I know I made it home and put the kids to bed, but the details of the evening stopped with that hug. The whole car ride home was spent trying to convince myself that it was okay. I had a dialogue in my head.
" I didn't do anything wrong. I just was being friendly and got a little carried away. She's not going to think anything of it. She doesn't know anything about me. She doesn't know... Don't worry."
The dialogue continued all the way to my basement at home. That's where it got ugly. I couldn't make it stop...I couldn't stop thinking about it... worrying about it.. I knew it was no big deal, but something had taken control of my brain and would not let me speak reason to it. (I know how that sounds, but it's true. It was so intense and I was fighting it.) It would not let me sleep. For close to five hours I had my forehead digging into the floor pleading with my mind to stop. Asking God to help me. I just wanted to go to bed, but I was immersed in depression, tormented by doubt and fighting something else that I hadn't yet let myself realize.
From this point on, I would never be able to look at Veronica as an equal ever again.
(Story continued in next post)
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Preview of coming post "Forbidden Love"
This is the radio edited version. So no need to worry about the kiddos hearing the F-bomb from your computer.
Time spent with Veronica made me feel special and like a creep at the same time.
I've started the new post but it is still unfinished. I'm dragging my heels because I don't want to make myself look bad, but sometimes it can't be avoided.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Homophobic Me
"My orientation does not define who I am. I am more than an orientation. That is only a part of me. I am who I choose to be." As posted by Jordan Nilson.
This was a headline that the Facebook group called "Homosexuality is NOT a choice, but homophobia is" recently put up on their page.
And since the word "homosexuality" seems to be defined by attraction and desire rather than a sex-related action, I would definitely agree with the name of the group.
"I am more than an orientation...I am who I CHOOSE to be." I love that. That's freedom. For me, that's hope.
We can not choose our obstacles (sometimes another word for parents) in life, but the choice is still ours to make in terms of our character. Everyday when I wake up and roll out of bed I make a choice. Most days I choose to be grouchy till I get some caffeine in me. But grouchy or not the choice is still mine.
This reminds me...
Most of the time I have a certain genre of music playing while I write. Occasionally, I will even play the same song over and over again depending on what is going on in my head and what works for what I'm trying to write. It helps me to stay on topic. Based on what was just said about "choice" and building up character, I have selected two.
To satisfy your curiosity....
I must confess MY prejudice.
I find it hard to have a sympathetic ear and mind to those who claim Christ and yet appear to be freely choosing to do something that I, myself, have been brought to repentance of. Even those who do not place themselves under the umbrella of faith and the Bible make me uncomfortable.
Ellen Degeneres is hilarious, I know. I love her voice over in Finding Nemo. Yet I can't watch her daytime talk show for more than a few minutes. It's not disgust that I'm feeling for her. It's embarrassment. Maybe I am sympathizing a little when I look at her. Possibly, I even see myself in her.
I can only imagine Ellen and I in a conversation together. She might try to tell me that there was no choice in her actions, and it's just who she is, how she was made. I lack tolerance for that.
The answer seems illogical to my reasoning and to following my own convictions.
Some say that there is no "absolute truth" or answer. Everything is relative and/or subjective to both the person and the situation. That too doesn't make sense to me. I understand the premise and why someone might see it that way. I do believe there are "grey" areas in certain circumstances, however, not in all.
There has to be a simple truth somewhere. After all, you can't have grey if black and white don't exist. Without digging out my color wheel, I'll move on.
Trying to find the right balance between a healthy understanding of what it means to be holy without feeling contempt for those that appear to out right break the rules (sometimes waving it in front of my face) has not been an easy task.
It could be jealousy. But mostly, I find it hard to comprehend why it is that they don't see what I've seen.
I'm not trying to justify any wrong feelings or thoughts I've had for anyone holding the label of "gay". I am only sharing with you what's been in my heart. But my heart is conflicted, and that is where my sympathy stems from. That is also where my hypocrisy finds me.
Again, I'm reminded of when I visited my friend in Chicago. Emily and I went to college together. We had shared a floor in one of the dorms and I even have some pictures of her from wedding reception. We had lost touch for a few years after, but that happens a lot in adulthood.
After talking for a while through online sites (Facebook etc) and over the phone, Emily finally spilled the beans to me. She had a girlfriend.
They had been together for a couple of years by then and I...I was floored by it. I did not feel disgusted by her confession. I felt relieved, happy even. I was excited to hear that I was not alone. Finally, I had found someone that believed in God and still had these feelings.
We arranged a visit at her place for a weekend. I wasn't sure quite what to expect. I had been around "gay" men and women before, but this was different somehow. This was the first time I had heard about other Christians who were gay. I had only seen my friends rejecting their faith or trading it for a different one. This was different.
I felt giddy about spending time with her and her girlfriend. And at the same time, I thought I needed to save her.
I told myself that I was going as a friend to spend time with a friend, but I also had another agenda, to share what God had done in my life thus far. My motivations were very unbalanced and filled with mixed emotions.
My first night there we all went out to a bar. I was actually kind of hoping that she would take me to a gay bar so that I could see what her life was like. Also..to be honest, I was kind of hoping to be hit on by a lady. That didn't happen. However, I did attract affection from a certain strange man from the table next to us.
That's a story for another time.
I also had hoped that Emily would take me to see the sites of Chicago. She did not disappoint. We went to Millenium Park and saw the big shiny bean. She took me shopping in Chinatown which was something I had wanted to do for a long time. And on Sunday all three of us took a bus to what Emily refers to as "Gay Church". It turned out to just be a Methodist church in a part of Chicago that is known for their "gay" population. Entering the doors and taking my seat for the service was actually more difficult than I'd anticipated.
I worried that everyone had me pegged as an outsider and were judging me already for judging them. I thought that they knew. Like they saw me as a "gay hater".
The only thing that seemed to calm that fear in me (enough to stay in my seat) was knowing that I had something in common with them.
Even though I still have difficulty overlooking what I see as sin in their lives (and in mine), I was actually inspired by the warmth and friendliness of the congregation. Everyone wore a smile and cared so much about the other people there. When the service was over, they were not all just rushing out the door to beat the waiting line at their favorite restaurant. No, they were talking, hugging, encouraging one another. All the things that many churches that I've been to are lacking in. They even welcomed me.
I definitely think that I was seeing a stereo-type of my friend the instant that she told me she had a girlfriend. The types that live in stereo tend to be the ones on the TV and all over the news. They are the loudest. We forget...I forget about the aunt, the brother, the sister, the son, or friend and co-worker that do not live within that box. They are more than just sex maniacs. They are more than just people that dress funny. They are ...human. And we are all children in grown-up clothes.
I forget to not be everyone's referee. I forget what humility feels like.
After my trip was over, and I came back home to my world and my family, I realized that I had went to Chicago looking forward to that stereo-type Hollywood gay weekend with my friend. Nervous about it even. Instead, she made me see that she's not so much different than me.
----------------------
Maybe not as harsh as I anticipated. I'm sure more could be said, but not tonight.
Next up: "Forbidden Love"
My fight to survive a friendship with a woman that I was attracted to.
Should be interesting...I can't wait to read it!
This was a headline that the Facebook group called "Homosexuality is NOT a choice, but homophobia is" recently put up on their page.
And since the word "homosexuality" seems to be defined by attraction and desire rather than a sex-related action, I would definitely agree with the name of the group.
"I am more than an orientation...I am who I CHOOSE to be." I love that. That's freedom. For me, that's hope.
We can not choose our obstacles (sometimes another word for parents) in life, but the choice is still ours to make in terms of our character. Everyday when I wake up and roll out of bed I make a choice. Most days I choose to be grouchy till I get some caffeine in me. But grouchy or not the choice is still mine.
This reminds me...
Most of the time I have a certain genre of music playing while I write. Occasionally, I will even play the same song over and over again depending on what is going on in my head and what works for what I'm trying to write. It helps me to stay on topic. Based on what was just said about "choice" and building up character, I have selected two.
To satisfy your curiosity....
I must confess MY prejudice.
I find it hard to have a sympathetic ear and mind to those who claim Christ and yet appear to be freely choosing to do something that I, myself, have been brought to repentance of. Even those who do not place themselves under the umbrella of faith and the Bible make me uncomfortable.
Ellen Degeneres is hilarious, I know. I love her voice over in Finding Nemo. Yet I can't watch her daytime talk show for more than a few minutes. It's not disgust that I'm feeling for her. It's embarrassment. Maybe I am sympathizing a little when I look at her. Possibly, I even see myself in her.
I can only imagine Ellen and I in a conversation together. She might try to tell me that there was no choice in her actions, and it's just who she is, how she was made. I lack tolerance for that.
The answer seems illogical to my reasoning and to following my own convictions.
Some say that there is no "absolute truth" or answer. Everything is relative and/or subjective to both the person and the situation. That too doesn't make sense to me. I understand the premise and why someone might see it that way. I do believe there are "grey" areas in certain circumstances, however, not in all.
There has to be a simple truth somewhere. After all, you can't have grey if black and white don't exist. Without digging out my color wheel, I'll move on.
Trying to find the right balance between a healthy understanding of what it means to be holy without feeling contempt for those that appear to out right break the rules (sometimes waving it in front of my face) has not been an easy task.
It could be jealousy. But mostly, I find it hard to comprehend why it is that they don't see what I've seen.
I'm not trying to justify any wrong feelings or thoughts I've had for anyone holding the label of "gay". I am only sharing with you what's been in my heart. But my heart is conflicted, and that is where my sympathy stems from. That is also where my hypocrisy finds me.
Again, I'm reminded of when I visited my friend in Chicago. Emily and I went to college together. We had shared a floor in one of the dorms and I even have some pictures of her from wedding reception. We had lost touch for a few years after, but that happens a lot in adulthood.
After talking for a while through online sites (Facebook etc) and over the phone, Emily finally spilled the beans to me. She had a girlfriend.
They had been together for a couple of years by then and I...I was floored by it. I did not feel disgusted by her confession. I felt relieved, happy even. I was excited to hear that I was not alone. Finally, I had found someone that believed in God and still had these feelings.
We arranged a visit at her place for a weekend. I wasn't sure quite what to expect. I had been around "gay" men and women before, but this was different somehow. This was the first time I had heard about other Christians who were gay. I had only seen my friends rejecting their faith or trading it for a different one. This was different.
I felt giddy about spending time with her and her girlfriend. And at the same time, I thought I needed to save her.
I told myself that I was going as a friend to spend time with a friend, but I also had another agenda, to share what God had done in my life thus far. My motivations were very unbalanced and filled with mixed emotions.
My first night there we all went out to a bar. I was actually kind of hoping that she would take me to a gay bar so that I could see what her life was like. Also..to be honest, I was kind of hoping to be hit on by a lady. That didn't happen. However, I did attract affection from a certain strange man from the table next to us.
That's a story for another time.
I also had hoped that Emily would take me to see the sites of Chicago. She did not disappoint. We went to Millenium Park and saw the big shiny bean. She took me shopping in Chinatown which was something I had wanted to do for a long time. And on Sunday all three of us took a bus to what Emily refers to as "Gay Church". It turned out to just be a Methodist church in a part of Chicago that is known for their "gay" population. Entering the doors and taking my seat for the service was actually more difficult than I'd anticipated.
I worried that everyone had me pegged as an outsider and were judging me already for judging them. I thought that they knew. Like they saw me as a "gay hater".
The only thing that seemed to calm that fear in me (enough to stay in my seat) was knowing that I had something in common with them.
Even though I still have difficulty overlooking what I see as sin in their lives (and in mine), I was actually inspired by the warmth and friendliness of the congregation. Everyone wore a smile and cared so much about the other people there. When the service was over, they were not all just rushing out the door to beat the waiting line at their favorite restaurant. No, they were talking, hugging, encouraging one another. All the things that many churches that I've been to are lacking in. They even welcomed me.
I definitely think that I was seeing a stereo-type of my friend the instant that she told me she had a girlfriend. The types that live in stereo tend to be the ones on the TV and all over the news. They are the loudest. We forget...I forget about the aunt, the brother, the sister, the son, or friend and co-worker that do not live within that box. They are more than just sex maniacs. They are more than just people that dress funny. They are ...human. And we are all children in grown-up clothes.
I forget to not be everyone's referee. I forget what humility feels like.
After my trip was over, and I came back home to my world and my family, I realized that I had went to Chicago looking forward to that stereo-type Hollywood gay weekend with my friend. Nervous about it even. Instead, she made me see that she's not so much different than me.
----------------------
Maybe not as harsh as I anticipated. I'm sure more could be said, but not tonight.
Next up: "Forbidden Love"
My fight to survive a friendship with a woman that I was attracted to.
Should be interesting...I can't wait to read it!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
A little different than the rest
Am I a homosexual?
Medical Dictionary
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/homosexual
1 ho·mo·sex·u·al definition
Pronunciation: /ˌhō-mə-ˈseksh-(ə-)wəl, -ˈsek-shəl/
Function: adj
1 : of, relating to, or characterized by a tendency to direct sexual desire toward individuals of one's own sex
2 : of, relating to, or involving sexual intercourse between individuals of the same sex.
I am married and sexually active with my husband. How far does number one definition extend?
I'm sure there are some that label me as bisexual. That same site defines "bisexual" with the idea of a hermaphrodite which possess both male and female sex organs. It's listed as number five.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/bisexual
5. a bisexual organism; a hermaphrodite
Yet all the other definitions seem ...fitting.
If I fit the definition then why do I fight the label?
Maybe hypocrite would be a more accurate label for me.
In my past, I was repulsed at the sight of two women kissing. If I heard someone talking about it, I would instantly become nauseous. If it was a couple of men instead...that was just wrong. And HOW COULD NO ONE SEE THAT???
Yet I had envisioned myself making out with over a dozen women throughout my youth. Why didn't I think that it was disgusting then?
Possibly because I wasn't seeing myself as a girl. In fact, I wasn't seeing myself at all.
It was a first person point of view. Even if you had held up a mirror in front of me, I still would not see what an onlooker could see in me.
Finally coming into my "womanhood" and escaping my own disbelief about my gender, forced me to face my demons.
What I saw was hideous.
I wanted to drive that monster so far into dark that no one, not even I, would know that he was still there.
It was just a past that I was running from, and very few knew about it.
I was still concerned that others could see into my dark places.
I remember being in a long distant phone conversation with a friend from college about my "change". To relieve any of her fears concerning our friendship I said to her, "Now seeing two women kiss, or for me to think about kissing another girl, is like me making out with my Mom. It's disgusting. (nervous laughter)."
I really was telling the truth at that time. I felt sick about it. I felt sick and embarrassed that I had been associated with that kind of people.
These views of my own self image and coming into the light to see my "monster" has also shed light over my own prejudice that I hold over others. More specifically, my own distaste that I contend with for the homosexual or gay community.
------------------------------- Extended Invitation -----------------------------
I have to stop here. I never know the exact direction that each post will take before I write it, but I can tell that this one will get very hostile if I continue. This post was exceptionally hard to write as it is.
Next post: Hold your breath till the end...
I promise to upset some of you.
It will be best for everyone to remember that I'm talking from my point-of-view.
It should be obvious by now that my "point-of-view" is not always one you can put your trust in.
I've always thought that the truth of ANY situation should be sought out by the person seeking it and not forced upon them.
Please come back and read.
Medical Dictionary
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/homosexual
1 ho·mo·sex·u·al definition
Pronunciation: /ˌhō-mə-ˈseksh-(ə-)wəl, -ˈsek-shəl/
Function: adj
1 : of, relating to, or characterized by a tendency to direct sexual desire toward individuals of one's own sex
2 : of, relating to, or involving sexual intercourse between individuals of the same sex.
I am married and sexually active with my husband. How far does number one definition extend?
I'm sure there are some that label me as bisexual. That same site defines "bisexual" with the idea of a hermaphrodite which possess both male and female sex organs. It's listed as number five.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/bisexual
5. a bisexual organism; a hermaphrodite
Yet all the other definitions seem ...fitting.
If I fit the definition then why do I fight the label?
Maybe hypocrite would be a more accurate label for me.
In my past, I was repulsed at the sight of two women kissing. If I heard someone talking about it, I would instantly become nauseous. If it was a couple of men instead...that was just wrong. And HOW COULD NO ONE SEE THAT???
Yet I had envisioned myself making out with over a dozen women throughout my youth. Why didn't I think that it was disgusting then?
Possibly because I wasn't seeing myself as a girl. In fact, I wasn't seeing myself at all.
It was a first person point of view. Even if you had held up a mirror in front of me, I still would not see what an onlooker could see in me.
Finally coming into my "womanhood" and escaping my own disbelief about my gender, forced me to face my demons.
What I saw was hideous.
I wanted to drive that monster so far into dark that no one, not even I, would know that he was still there.
It was just a past that I was running from, and very few knew about it.
I was still concerned that others could see into my dark places.
I remember being in a long distant phone conversation with a friend from college about my "change". To relieve any of her fears concerning our friendship I said to her, "Now seeing two women kiss, or for me to think about kissing another girl, is like me making out with my Mom. It's disgusting. (nervous laughter)."
I really was telling the truth at that time. I felt sick about it. I felt sick and embarrassed that I had been associated with that kind of people.
These views of my own self image and coming into the light to see my "monster" has also shed light over my own prejudice that I hold over others. More specifically, my own distaste that I contend with for the homosexual or gay community.
------------------------------- Extended Invitation -----------------------------
I have to stop here. I never know the exact direction that each post will take before I write it, but I can tell that this one will get very hostile if I continue. This post was exceptionally hard to write as it is.
Next post: Hold your breath till the end...
I promise to upset some of you.
It will be best for everyone to remember that I'm talking from my point-of-view.
It should be obvious by now that my "point-of-view" is not always one you can put your trust in.
I've always thought that the truth of ANY situation should be sought out by the person seeking it and not forced upon them.
Please come back and read.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Exposed & Expelled
Inspiration doesn't come easy and like wise for what I'm about to say.
Rosa was my first (besides my Mom, my husband, and possibly one friend who lived miles away). She was my first true confession.
We found each other and reconnected through Myspace and then later on Facebook as well. It had been so long since I had even thought about her. She had just become a childhood memory tainted by regret. I still cared about her (and not in a weird way). I always did.
She had a son now and that much I knew already. Also she wasn't married and I had no idea who the father was. I assumed that it had been a painful experience and never wanted to actually ask, but I did begin reading some of her special posts (I forget what they are called...notes?) on Myspace. I left a few comments of encouragement. It was never anything really amazingly profound, but just enough to let her know that I wasn't judgmental or even as uptight about these sort of things the way she might have assumed I was from our history together (i.e. youth group and Christian college).
I began to think that either she didn't check the site very much or (my paranoid self kicking in) she was snubbing me. However there were a couple (meaning 2) of occasions she did respond.
Rosa began to talk about her life very specifically laying out her feelings about the path that she now was taking, and what kind of woman she saw herself as. It was all very personal, I could tell. Especially, when she said, "I don't know why I am writing all this...Maybe I'm just tired and possibly a little tipsy." (paraphrase of actual words - not a quote) Drunk or not, it was nice to finally hear something real from her.
Finding her again brought up a lot of my past. My interactions with Rosa were confusing ...always confusing, and I still had so many unanswered questions. Since she was my longest ongoing "crush" that I had ever had on a girl, she really stood out as a clue to how I got to where I am today. I wanted to ask her. I had so many "why?" questions running through my head. I knew that there had to be a better way to find closure to this though. So I prayed about it.
Then I wrote this letter (via Myspace) to her.:
(This is the actual letter and not a paraphrase)
------------------------------------------------
I'm sry for the way I have been overreacting to everything or "nothing" that you have been saying to me ...I know this is crazy (or rather I am crazy) and I want to be honest with you finally about some stuff that might make you understand why I appear hypersensitive to our interactions...even now after many years have gone by..
this isn't easy to write I'm sry I'm stalling soo much BUT I'm tired of playing a guessing game in my mind...
here goes...*deep breath*
I had a "crush" on you in high school.
wow! that was really hard to type
Now, I'm not stupid...I know right from wrong...and there is more to the my story than this but I'm not sure that you'd really care to hear about it anyway.
I'm not gay, never thought I was (always been attracted to guys so can't relate to that)... I'm just weird..always weird (again -a story for another time)
I had so much more I was gonna say about this..something about how you are not the first person I've told about this temptation that I sometimes struggle with..and how I found it to be 'freeing" in a sense and that it also has brought accountability with it. I also could tell you all the stuff I have learned about myself since college when I made a real verbal heart-2-heart commitment to God to become the true "woman" that he created me to be and not to live my life by the way others may perceive me to be.
I wanted to remind you of our last real conversation in college that I remember - the one, that in turn made me not want to walk through your door again...(I told you about my Dad and how he "treated" me and all the stuff no one knew about my family and you wouldn't even look me in the eye...it was like I wasn't even there)
So bottom line...none of that stuff matters anymore...
I just want to stop second guessing of whether you could tell that I "liked" you and so you didn't ever want to really be that close to me..or if I'm just not cool enough..
I just don't want to think about it anymore..I want the air to be cleared and so I can take what you say or don't say @ face value and that's it.
oh yeah..and one more thing to throw in here (as if finding out that some "freak" girl that you went to church with had a crush on you wasn't it bad enough =P)
I also had a huge crush on NAME HAS BEEN REMOVED - what can I say he's all-around hottie right?- but when I found out you liked him too...Lol I was like, well, that's it for me...I don't even have a chance against Rosa.
Guess I will be hearing from you...or I won't
aside from all this- when I said, "I care/ed about you" that was the real deal nothing weird.... and I do.
----------------------------------------------
Rosa never responded. So after a few weeks I wrote to her again telling her how anxious I was becoming. Saying that I would rather her swear at me and call me names then to just not respond at all. Her only response to this was removing me from her friends list (first from Myspace then later from Facebook). Nothing more was said. And I had not expected that someone who now lived so far away, and had been removed from my life for so long with very little communication between us, could still hurt me this badly.
It made me feel even more "disgusting" than I ever had before.
And that is a good lead-off for my next post which will be about facing my own prejudices concerning homosexuals and the like.
See ya all next week.
Rosa was my first (besides my Mom, my husband, and possibly one friend who lived miles away). She was my first true confession.
We found each other and reconnected through Myspace and then later on Facebook as well. It had been so long since I had even thought about her. She had just become a childhood memory tainted by regret. I still cared about her (and not in a weird way). I always did.
She had a son now and that much I knew already. Also she wasn't married and I had no idea who the father was. I assumed that it had been a painful experience and never wanted to actually ask, but I did begin reading some of her special posts (I forget what they are called...notes?) on Myspace. I left a few comments of encouragement. It was never anything really amazingly profound, but just enough to let her know that I wasn't judgmental or even as uptight about these sort of things the way she might have assumed I was from our history together (i.e. youth group and Christian college).
I began to think that either she didn't check the site very much or (my paranoid self kicking in) she was snubbing me. However there were a couple (meaning 2) of occasions she did respond.
Rosa began to talk about her life very specifically laying out her feelings about the path that she now was taking, and what kind of woman she saw herself as. It was all very personal, I could tell. Especially, when she said, "I don't know why I am writing all this...Maybe I'm just tired and possibly a little tipsy." (paraphrase of actual words - not a quote) Drunk or not, it was nice to finally hear something real from her.
Finding her again brought up a lot of my past. My interactions with Rosa were confusing ...always confusing, and I still had so many unanswered questions. Since she was my longest ongoing "crush" that I had ever had on a girl, she really stood out as a clue to how I got to where I am today. I wanted to ask her. I had so many "why?" questions running through my head. I knew that there had to be a better way to find closure to this though. So I prayed about it.
Then I wrote this letter (via Myspace) to her.:
(This is the actual letter and not a paraphrase)
------------------------------------------------
I'm sry for the way I have been overreacting to everything or "nothing" that you have been saying to me ...I know this is crazy (or rather I am crazy) and I want to be honest with you finally about some stuff that might make you understand why I appear hypersensitive to our interactions...even now after many years have gone by..
this isn't easy to write I'm sry I'm stalling soo much BUT I'm tired of playing a guessing game in my mind...
here goes...*deep breath*
I had a "crush" on you in high school.
wow! that was really hard to type
Now, I'm not stupid...I know right from wrong...and there is more to the my story than this but I'm not sure that you'd really care to hear about it anyway.
I'm not gay, never thought I was (always been attracted to guys so can't relate to that)... I'm just weird..always weird (again -a story for another time)
I had so much more I was gonna say about this..something about how you are not the first person I've told about this temptation that I sometimes struggle with..and how I found it to be 'freeing" in a sense and that it also has brought accountability with it. I also could tell you all the stuff I have learned about myself since college when I made a real verbal heart-2-heart commitment to God to become the true "woman" that he created me to be and not to live my life by the way others may perceive me to be.
I wanted to remind you of our last real conversation in college that I remember - the one, that in turn made me not want to walk through your door again...(I told you about my Dad and how he "treated" me and all the stuff no one knew about my family and you wouldn't even look me in the eye...it was like I wasn't even there)
So bottom line...none of that stuff matters anymore...
I just want to stop second guessing of whether you could tell that I "liked" you and so you didn't ever want to really be that close to me..or if I'm just not cool enough..
I just don't want to think about it anymore..I want the air to be cleared and so I can take what you say or don't say @ face value and that's it.
oh yeah..and one more thing to throw in here (as if finding out that some "freak" girl that you went to church with had a crush on you wasn't it bad enough =P)
I also had a huge crush on NAME HAS BEEN REMOVED - what can I say he's all-around hottie right?- but when I found out you liked him too...Lol I was like, well, that's it for me...I don't even have a chance against Rosa.
Guess I will be hearing from you...or I won't
aside from all this- when I said, "I care/ed about you" that was the real deal nothing weird.... and I do.
----------------------------------------------
Rosa never responded. So after a few weeks I wrote to her again telling her how anxious I was becoming. Saying that I would rather her swear at me and call me names then to just not respond at all. Her only response to this was removing me from her friends list (first from Myspace then later from Facebook). Nothing more was said. And I had not expected that someone who now lived so far away, and had been removed from my life for so long with very little communication between us, could still hurt me this badly.
It made me feel even more "disgusting" than I ever had before.
And that is a good lead-off for my next post which will be about facing my own prejudices concerning homosexuals and the like.
See ya all next week.
Friday, September 3, 2010
A New Door
Lenny Kravitz is beckoning you to come and share your story. If not here in this blog, then somewhere else. Someone needs to here what you have to say and more importantly to you..You need to GET IT OUT.
I will keep writing my story till someone takes over with theirs.
See ya next week. Have a safe and enjoyable LONG weekend!!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Clothing Optional part 3
As a Christian I am forever rooted in Christ. The Bible says that He lives in me and grows, matures, and eventually will produce fruit.
Looking back through my hour glass of my childhood and adolescence, I found something good. I had a very real and deeply rooted personal relationship with God. He was my hope. He was what I held on to. He was the first one I talked to in good times and bad. He was everything that my earthly father failed to be for me. He was my best friend. And I...I was important to Him.
That relationship, that closeness, and innocence was certainly something that I wanted back in my life again. I was unhappy with what was happening to me (from all sides) but I was joyful on the inside because of the peace that knowing God gave me.
Beyond losing that I also discovered that I had abandoned my pursuit of music and writing. Although, I had helped coach a soccer team when my son was young, I still felt inhibited by my thinking that a grown woman shouldn't behave this way.
Helping out with the youth group, which had been a "dream job" growing up, I wanted to act goofy just like them but then would remember that maybe that was not very "lady-like".
Breaking down those stereo-types in my mind wasn't easy, but it helped that at my core was Christ and He had been there all along. But now...not as much. Why?
And, How do I go back to Him (my root) without going back to my sinful delusions?
I could draw this story out longer but let me just say it. I tried to. And...
I failed.
But my friend (back at the beginning of this series) was right. They were just clothes. I can wear those same clothes knowing that I am a woman now. Knowing that I'm not a freak of nature hoping to look cool for someone who would care for someone like me. In fact, I have worn those clothes again! But my vision has changed. What I see looking back in the mirror at me has changed. My heart has changed.
The hobbies, the special interests, the career choices, and the clothes are all "optional" to God. It's the heart that matters.
It's the heart, He sees.
Looking back through my hour glass of my childhood and adolescence, I found something good. I had a very real and deeply rooted personal relationship with God. He was my hope. He was what I held on to. He was the first one I talked to in good times and bad. He was everything that my earthly father failed to be for me. He was my best friend. And I...I was important to Him.
That relationship, that closeness, and innocence was certainly something that I wanted back in my life again. I was unhappy with what was happening to me (from all sides) but I was joyful on the inside because of the peace that knowing God gave me.
Beyond losing that I also discovered that I had abandoned my pursuit of music and writing. Although, I had helped coach a soccer team when my son was young, I still felt inhibited by my thinking that a grown woman shouldn't behave this way.
Helping out with the youth group, which had been a "dream job" growing up, I wanted to act goofy just like them but then would remember that maybe that was not very "lady-like".
Breaking down those stereo-types in my mind wasn't easy, but it helped that at my core was Christ and He had been there all along. But now...not as much. Why?
And, How do I go back to Him (my root) without going back to my sinful delusions?
I could draw this story out longer but let me just say it. I tried to. And...
I failed.
But my friend (back at the beginning of this series) was right. They were just clothes. I can wear those same clothes knowing that I am a woman now. Knowing that I'm not a freak of nature hoping to look cool for someone who would care for someone like me. In fact, I have worn those clothes again! But my vision has changed. What I see looking back in the mirror at me has changed. My heart has changed.
The hobbies, the special interests, the career choices, and the clothes are all "optional" to God. It's the heart that matters.
It's the heart, He sees.
Clothing Optional part 2 of 3
What is the definition of a woman? And how do we know what a man should be? I think these questions are more crucial to find answers for in our nation today then merely trying to define marriage. Now I guess I should post a dictionary definition or something research related from Wikipedia. But if it were that simple to answer then why are we still asking?
Marriage (typically) is a choice, an agreement between two individuals to spend their lifetime together, till death, no matter what the circumstance. Motherhood, on the other hand, is not a choice (although there are some that would argue this). It is something that you might or might not prepare for in advance. And even with all the child rearing training classes and books available, the constant advice streaming in from all sides both family and friends, NOTHING adequately prepares you for a baby entering your world like life experience.
When my son came home with us from the hospital I was a nervous wreck. I had instantly felt a connection to him while they wheeled us into the other room (after surgery) and I sang to him. This is something I had thought of and planned before hand. My effort to pass on something meaningful to him through my voice and the power of music. Later while rocking him to sleep at home I spoke aloud all my fears to him. It was my simple confession that I had no idea what I was doing but then realizing that we had that common ground between us. This was his first time too. And that made me feel better.
Sometimes my son sees his little sister getting her nails painted or playing with her "princess play make-up" and jealousy flares. He used to say, "When I'm a baby again, I'm gonna be a girl." In the past this small statement might have scared me a little and fed some unfounded fear inside me that I had somehow passed this burden on to my children. Not this time. Because I understood (correction: I understand) that whether my son plays with dolls or army men, wears polish or dirt on his nails, loves pink or blue... he will always be my son. He will always be a boy and someday a man, just the way God created him to be. Our society makes these distinctions between the genders, not God. What an amazing revelation that is to me! (and to my son) Freedom to be anything you want to be, and knowing that your identity is forever secured by the one who made you.
When life gets hard and your way gets blurred, "go back to your roots".
I had ignored the feelings of doubt and inadequacy for so long. To be a better wife, a better lover, and of course to be a mother. My mother in law pushed me into church involvement. I'm grateful that she did because I needed to get out of the house and socialize. But it also made me realize that I'm an adult now, not just a crazy college student. People look at me and they see a grown woman. I feel like a child amongst them but they can't tell that. At home I could raise my kids how I wanted to. By that I mean, I didn't have to pretend to be anything I wasn't. They didn't know any better. They didn't know that other mom's don't like to dig in the mud with their kids to find worms. They didn't know that it was weird that I like spiderman and super hero movies just like their daddy. And if mommy only wears dresses once or maybe twice a month, she's not abnormal for that.
Watching these other ladies at church their behaviors, their hobbies, their family life I felt like I needed to cover myself up again.
And I did...but wearing so many different shoes will eventually produce blisters, especially if they don't fit.
"Go back to your roots." My face a mess with tears streaming and my head swimming with questions, all I could hear was my professor saying, "Go back to your roots."
I had no roots to this "character" I was playing. I was ashamed of my family(Mom and Dad), my past, and ultimately ...I was ashamed of me.
But I had to fix this. I needed to be rooted in something, by something, or someone.
I couldn't keep running away.
(Think of this as an attatchment for clarfication: After proof reading I realize that it might seem that I am saying there is no definite difference between the genders. That is NOT true. God clearly states descriptions for each role in life. And I do understand that there are inherinant differences between the genders (beyond the physical) whether we can see them in ourselves or not. Where the "society" part or our culture kicks in is in the little things... such as our hobbies, our likes and dislikes, and even our facial structure or body type can be scrutunized to not be adequatly living up to the "gender standards". These things don't make a man or not to God. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. =)
Marriage (typically) is a choice, an agreement between two individuals to spend their lifetime together, till death, no matter what the circumstance. Motherhood, on the other hand, is not a choice (although there are some that would argue this). It is something that you might or might not prepare for in advance. And even with all the child rearing training classes and books available, the constant advice streaming in from all sides both family and friends, NOTHING adequately prepares you for a baby entering your world like life experience.
When my son came home with us from the hospital I was a nervous wreck. I had instantly felt a connection to him while they wheeled us into the other room (after surgery) and I sang to him. This is something I had thought of and planned before hand. My effort to pass on something meaningful to him through my voice and the power of music. Later while rocking him to sleep at home I spoke aloud all my fears to him. It was my simple confession that I had no idea what I was doing but then realizing that we had that common ground between us. This was his first time too. And that made me feel better.
Sometimes my son sees his little sister getting her nails painted or playing with her "princess play make-up" and jealousy flares. He used to say, "When I'm a baby again, I'm gonna be a girl." In the past this small statement might have scared me a little and fed some unfounded fear inside me that I had somehow passed this burden on to my children. Not this time. Because I understood (correction: I understand) that whether my son plays with dolls or army men, wears polish or dirt on his nails, loves pink or blue... he will always be my son. He will always be a boy and someday a man, just the way God created him to be. Our society makes these distinctions between the genders, not God. What an amazing revelation that is to me! (and to my son) Freedom to be anything you want to be, and knowing that your identity is forever secured by the one who made you.
When life gets hard and your way gets blurred, "go back to your roots".
I had ignored the feelings of doubt and inadequacy for so long. To be a better wife, a better lover, and of course to be a mother. My mother in law pushed me into church involvement. I'm grateful that she did because I needed to get out of the house and socialize. But it also made me realize that I'm an adult now, not just a crazy college student. People look at me and they see a grown woman. I feel like a child amongst them but they can't tell that. At home I could raise my kids how I wanted to. By that I mean, I didn't have to pretend to be anything I wasn't. They didn't know any better. They didn't know that other mom's don't like to dig in the mud with their kids to find worms. They didn't know that it was weird that I like spiderman and super hero movies just like their daddy. And if mommy only wears dresses once or maybe twice a month, she's not abnormal for that.
Watching these other ladies at church their behaviors, their hobbies, their family life I felt like I needed to cover myself up again.
And I did...but wearing so many different shoes will eventually produce blisters, especially if they don't fit.
"Go back to your roots." My face a mess with tears streaming and my head swimming with questions, all I could hear was my professor saying, "Go back to your roots."
I had no roots to this "character" I was playing. I was ashamed of my family(Mom and Dad), my past, and ultimately ...I was ashamed of me.
But I had to fix this. I needed to be rooted in something, by something, or someone.
I couldn't keep running away.
(Think of this as an attatchment for clarfication: After proof reading I realize that it might seem that I am saying there is no definite difference between the genders. That is NOT true. God clearly states descriptions for each role in life. And I do understand that there are inherinant differences between the genders (beyond the physical) whether we can see them in ourselves or not. Where the "society" part or our culture kicks in is in the little things... such as our hobbies, our likes and dislikes, and even our facial structure or body type can be scrutunized to not be adequatly living up to the "gender standards". These things don't make a man or not to God. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. =)
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