Learning To See Myself As I Really Am

Another bad self-esteem day.

Shave legs, wash hair, wash body, step out of shower, see self naked, want to throw up. Proceed to question everything in my life, including why those I love (and who love me) want to be with me and be around me. This is the vicious cycle that happens every time I glimpse my naked body, or see a photo of my full-body (not just a well-posed, well-lit selfie), or try on clothing that doesn't fit. The self-loathing bubbles up and out of me, poisoning my mind and crushing any ounce of progress I have made with my self-esteem building.

I have a boyfriend. Long-distance, but we've been together on and off for about 6 years. He visited me once, stayed with me for 2 weeks. I was a nervous wreck- sure he was going to be repulsed by me when we met. However, he was affectionate, interested, and seemed to really care for me. I was astounded. This was not normal for me. I was used to being "tolerated", not accepted and desired. He has since stuck by me through thick and thin (literally- I was at one of my highest weights when he was here, and it did not deter him one bit). He guides me, he teaches me, he listens to all of my bipolar ramblings and patiently endures my mood swings and racing thoughts. 

So why do I question his feelings for me? Why do I look in the mirror and think, "He can't possibly want me. Not when I look like this. He deserves better. I'd better let him go and hope that he finds someone perfect."? He tells me over and over that he wants me. He loves me. He desires me. He is not going anywhere. He values the person I am. But my compulsion with self-loathing seems to overpower all of that. 

My therapist has me doing an exercise- I am to keep a journal of all of the things I feel, good or bad. But along with the bad, I have to make a list of all the positive things that I did that day. He says this will help me to balance the bad with the good. It will help me to see that I am not all bad, as I think I am. I have been pretty lax with this exercise, which is something I need to change. I can't get better without really trying.

Bentley Little And The Freakshow Of My Own Fears

Been binge-reading Bentley Little horror novels.

He's long been one of my favorite authors, after reading 'Dominion' when I was about 19 years old. That book opened up a new world for me. It wasn't Stephen King, it wasn't Anne Rice, it wasn't Clive Barker. This was a new, gritty, graphic, and just plain strange writer.

There's something circus-like about Little's books. Not the clown part of the circus, or the elephant show, but the freakshow or the funhouse. His storiess usually take place in southern California, Arizona, or New Mexico, which for me, lends them an air of ancient magic and earthy evil; the stuff legends and lore are made of. The villains in his novels are never your typical villains. They're the oddly-assembled monsters straight out of your nightmares, or the ordinary objects you see every day and never give a second thought to. They're out of place, like when you dream about things that would never happen in reality. Quite honestly, his books transport you right into your own deepest fears and phobias. And if you don't have phobias before you start reading his work, you will when you're finished.

Even though he doesn't set out to win any awards, his writing style is fast-paced and disturbing. Just what I like in a horror novel. He doesn't beat around the bush with the plot, or get too wrapped up in describing characters or their emotions (not that I don't appreciate those qualities in other novels)- he just tells the story plainly and scares the hell out of you in the process. People have said the same about Stephen King (the honorary king of horror literature), but I don't want you to go into a Bentley Little book thinking about King. Little's writing is another thing altogether. It's darker. It's not going to leave you here in the real world. It's gonna take your hand and drag you down into the very pit of your own fear, whether you go willingly or not. Because I guarantee you, if you like horror, and pick one of his novels up, you won't put it down whether you love it or hate it. You just have to get through it.

And you'll probably come out wanting more.

Fuck It All

Having kind of a hard time today.

I'm in a weird place between nostalgia and melancholy. Been listening to 90s music and remembering bittersweet memories from high school, and I can't help but realize what a complete failure my life is. People can say stuff like "You're not a failure, you still have life, which is always worth something!". But is it?

What worth is a life when you can't live? When all you can do is sit around inside your house, in constant pain, chronic loneliness, and perpetual anxiety because any time someone walks by your front door you are terrified they will knock on it and you will be forced to socialize when you feel like if you were forced to make small-talk it would kill you? When you can't even leave your house- both for reasons of pain and fatigue AND for reasons of not having the money to go anywhere anyway. Can't work, have no friends left, and can't get sicknesses taken care of, so you just sit around in pain, wishing you were dead.

Would you want to live a life like that? Would suicide not be one of your ideal solutions then?

Wuthering Heights (SPOILERS)

I read Wuthering Heights for the first time when I was probably around 12 years old. At the time, I had chosen it from my library because I liked the cover, and I thought it sounded like a good ghost story. I was really into horror novels back then. When I read it, I was more than a little disappointed. It was more romantic than I had liked (I was only 12 and romance was still yucky to me), and I found Cathy Earnshaw-Linton simply detestable. And to be perfectly honest, I still do.

I re-read Wuthering Heights very recently, and although I appreciated it way more than I had at twelve (love the dark and stormy Heathcliff, the devastating love story, and the haunting descriptions of the moors), I still found that it rubbed me the wrong way somehow.

For me, characters in a novel are 90% of the influence on whether or not I enjoy the story. If I can't connect with the characters after a few chapters, I honestly can't continue the novel and will just put it in the "couldn't finish" pile. Luckily for me, Wuthering Heights has enough likable characters to make up for the un-likable Cathy Earnshaw.

It's not hard to say what I don't like about her. She's spoiled, willful, ill-mannered, and manipulative. She's a social climber. She leads Heathcliff on on more than one occasion, and when he tires of being lead on and decides to bail altogether and forget his love for her, she throws herself a pity parade and paints him as the one who wronged her. Ugh! Talk about entitlement! The ONLY redeemable characteristic that she displays is her affection for Heathcliff, when no one else in her family cares for him at all.

Still, despite my dislike of Cathy, the love story is enough to keep me going to the end. We have all had "the one who got away", whether it was tragic death (as in the case of this particular story), or just a messy and painful breakup. It touches a nerve in all of us to read about it, I think, and Miss Bronte nailed the passionate turbulence of love when she wrote about Cathy and Heathcliff's relationship.

All in all, Wuthering Heights is definitely a book worth reading, both for its content and its status as one of the most popular classics of all time. Just be sure to have tissues handy, and be prepared to possibly enter a temporary state of melancholy while you make your way through this book.

Learning To Choose Wisely

I had a dream last night about being abandoned at a middle-of-nowhere gas station by a girl who was supposed to be my closest friend.

Unfortunately, it's a scenario that could have easily happened in real life- especially if I was still close with the girl in question. She was someone I was extremely close to in my teenage years, a girl who made me feel accepted, even loved- before she screwed me over the first time she found a boyfriend. Suddenly she wanted nothing to do with me or her other friends. Her boyfriend didn't like her friends, and so she wasn't going to risk being dumped. She dumped all of her friends instead, including yours truly. But it didn't stop there- she didn't just dump us, but she and her new bf made it their new mission to bully us daily. Verbally and physically. It was a complete betrayal on her part.

And this isn't the only time a former "friend" has turned on me like a scorpion. I can recall at least 5 or 6 more people who used to be very close to me and used that to stab me in the back later.

Having that dream last night made me realize how often I choose the wrong kinds of people to be in my life. Once again, I blame my parents. I realize how cliched it is to blame your parents for everything that goes wrong in your life- but there's a grain of truth in every cliche. My parents were abusive and neglectful. I never learned to love myself or respect myself. My sense of self was discouraged from developing, and I have suffered for it ever since.

When you have been treated like you don't matter for the entirety of your life, you learn that you don't matter. You allow people to treat you any way they like, because well, you must deserve that. You tolerate the abuse, the manipulation, the cruel verbal jabs at your expense that are passed off thinly as "jokes". False friends also have a tendency to find humor in publicly humiliating you. They also feel free to use or "borrow" your things, as though asking for your permission is not needed (because obviously you don't matter). Every single behavior I have listed here are ways that I learned to be okay with because that's how I was treated by my parents.

I want to change the tolerance I have for people who just use and abuse, I don't want to be a doormat anymore, and I certainly don't want to repeat the cycle of choosing the wrong people in my life just because I hate myself. I will make it a point to set boundaries and I will not accept anyone in my life who can't treat me the way I treat others- with respect, kindness, and good intent.

Yeah That Happened

That awkward moment when your neighbor puts a giant Confederate flag on their porch and asks you how you like it.

HELLO MY NAME IS: Demisexual

I am a demisexual. I always have been. To be clear, in case you didn't read the above sign, demisexual is a sexual orientation in which someone feels sexual attraction only to people with whom they have an emotional bond.

I knew I was different, growing up around regularly sex-charged people. While my friends were swooning and lusting over celebrities, I would join in (in an attempt to look "normal") while internally wondering how they could be so attracted to someone they didn't even know. My friends would develop crushes on boys at school who they would pass daily in the hallway (the extent of their communication with one another). It baffled me. How could they be so attracted to someone they have never even spoken to?

Perhaps this stems from a problem with trust. I have a past full of abuse, so naturally I have trust issues, and find it difficult to want to be close to people who haven't proven themselves trustworthy in some way. I can look at a person and say if they are physically attractive or not (in the conventional sense), but I can tell you that I cannot be attracted sexually to a person that I don't have an intense emotional bond with.

By "intense", I mean history and connection. When I first met my current boyfriend, I thought of him as just another guy on the internet who wanted to talk to an approachable-looking girl. I chatted with him online several times, not feeling anything in particular for him. In time, I noticed that he was different from the other guys I had chatted with. He asked important, deep questions about me, my life, who I really was. And he really listened.

Eventually, I started to trust that this guy really wanted to know me, and not for some hidden selfish reason. He was a giving person, always checking with me to see if I was emotionally "okay" after telling him about my traumatic past. He seemed to care immensely about my well-being and never made me feel like I should go faster than what I was ready for. That counted for a lot in my book. Made me feel safe, like I could trust him not to push me into something. I started to trust him more and more, until eventually (about a year after meeting him) I started to feel romantic feelings for him.

A year! It took me a year to like the guy. And it took another year before I agreed to meet him in person. This guy waited two years for me. And when we met, he never pressured me. He figuratively held open a door, and let me decide if I wanted to enter it with him. And I did. That's how our relationship works- he holds the door open, and waits for me to decide to enter. Each door I enter into takes us to a deeper part of our relationship, and of course, a deeper trust. He understands my demisexuality and lets me go at my own pace.

Being demisexual is hard. It makes dating a disaster, and I get shunned by most people because I have to move as slow as a snail. But the wait is well worth it, because even though I am introverted, shy, sometimes difficult, and sometimes moody, I am also a loyal, loving, and extremely compassionate person who would do just about anything for someone she loves. Anyone who is patient and interested enough to hold open figurative doors will be glad they did in the long run. I am a person worth knowing.

Something Wicked This Way Comes?

What a strange feeling I have had lately.

It's like I know that something is going to end. Change is inevitable- no one can avoid it. Different people move in and out of our lives, and I like to think that they come when we need them, and leave when they have taught us what they came to teach. I believe that everything happens for a reason, as cliche as it sounds. Nothing is coincidence.

I don't want things to change, as far as the people in my life go. I love them all, they have been my anchors when bipolar has thrown me into a raging sea of emotion. They are the safe place I go to to feel loved. They encourage me, they support me, and they welcome me. That's the most important part. The feeling of being accepted and wanted is a feeling that every living creature needs to feel.

I am afraid of the change that I feel coming, yet at the same time, part of me hopes that it's a change for the better. I can't put my finger on what exactly will change. I know this post is vague and mysterious, but I can't be any more specific. Because I just don't know what is coming.

Here's to hoping it's a positive change.

I'm Not Kidding

If there is one thing I could wish for in my life right now, it's that my family and friends would really understand my illnesses and what they do to me.

Here's a list of my ailments, in case you're unfamiliar:
- Fibromyalgia
- Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
- Bipolar Disorder
- Generalized and Social Anxiety
- Migraines
- PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
- PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome)
- Dyslexia (not formally diagnosed, but I have every symptom and a high-school teacher suggested that I probably have it)


That list is what rules my life. I wish it wasn't true. But reality is reality. These diseases and disorders keep me from living the life I wanted. I don't work. I don't drive much. I don't have a social life anymore. I don't do much of anything except sit at home, waiting for my meds to start working and wishing I was anywhere else. And wishing I wasn't so alone.

I feel incredibly isolated. This is what happens to sick people, so I hear. We're never well enough to join in on activities or trips or even social house calls. I know that when I hear an unexpected knock at the door on most days, I run to hide in my room. Seriously. When I am not feeling well, even the slightest interruption to my "quiet time" will stress me out, therefore causing my body to tense up, triggering my PTSD and my fibromyalgia pain. This causes a "flare", which means that every nerve in my entire body is singing with pain at once. It usually lands me in bed for a few days.

Sometimes the triggers bring about an anxiety or panic attack (they're not the same thing). An anxiety attack is a slow, dreadful thing. It's when something creeps into your mind slowly and starts to make you worry about it until gradually you are a nervous, aching wreck. A panic attack is swift and sharp. It's what happens if you walk into your apartment at the end of the day only to find a deranged- looking clown, holding an axe, standing in your living room. The heartbeat speeds up, the breath catches, the muscles lock up, and the adrenaline starts pumping, and all you can think of is how to FIGHT or FLEE. That's called fear. That's what happens to a socially anxious person when they're around strangers or crowds or intense interactions with anyone- even close friends or family.

It's hard to express the number of triggers that can cause me to have a flare or cause me to have an anxiety or panic attack. Almost anything can do it. That unexpected knock at my door. A trip to the grocery store. A stressful call from my mother. A missed call from an unknown number. A visit from my brother. My roommate in a bad mood. A meal full of gluten. A crying child in a public place. Seeing a sad commercial. Watching a romantic comedy. Walking laps around the mall. Feeling excluded from my bf's and his gf's life. Seeing a hurt animal or person. Hearing an angry, loud voice. Hearing a leaf blower, thunder, a vacuum, or a blender. Hearing a hammer hitting a nail. Trying on clothes at a shop. Seeing my body in a mirror. You get the point.

Basically, my body is overly sensitive to life itself. We can't avoid other people. We can't hole up in a cave somewhere and expect to be healthy and feel good about existing. We are hard-wired to crave human contact, no matter how introverted we may be. We all need someone. And what I need is someone who will accept, understand, and work with my individual issues and not look down on me for it, or resent me in time.

Romans 12

3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. 4 For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, 5 so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. 6 We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your[a] faith; 7 if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; 8 if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead,[b] do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

9 Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13 Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

14 Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. 15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. 16 Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position.[c] Do not be conceited.

17 Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. 18 If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. 19 Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,”[d] says the Lord.20 On the contrary:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
    if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”[e]

21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

This is the focus for my Bible study this morning. I pray to live by these words and be the best I can be. Too often I let my fears and even pride get in the way of my being a good person, and today I promise to always make the effort to cast fear and pride aside.

The Comparison Game

Some people seem to have everything so good.

You probably know someone like that. They always look great, they have a great job that pays well, they have a perfect marriage, perfect kids, cute house, new car, they never seem to get sick, and they never seem to fail at any endeavor they try their hands at. When you see them, they are always happy, and never seem to get stressed out. And why should they? Their lives seem perfectly stress-free.

I play the "Comparison Game" as my boyfriend calls it. I compare myself to everyone I meet, and the other person ALWAYS wins. I think everyone has a better life than me. And not only that, but I think everyone except for me deserves a better life. In therapy, my shrink and I are trying to figure out where this comes from. I have a very low opinion of myself. So low that it actually shocks me when someone pays me a compliment about my looks or personality or intelligence. Because to me, I possess no redeeming qualities. Well, I am compassionate about the human plight and animal welfare. I guess that's redeeming?

My roommate and I had a long discussion about where this low opinion of self comes from, and she seems to think it's because I was raised by a narcissistic parent. My mother is textbook narcissist. Recently I found an article that talks about what the adult child of a narcissist deals with. Every single thing on the list was SPOT ON. So maybe my roommate is right, and there is a lot that I owe to my mom when it comes to hating myself.

I don't like playing the Comparison Game. It makes my heart hurt and makes my mind loud. Hopefully with therapy, and with time, I can learn to overcome my self-loathing and perhaps learn to feel worthy of a good life. Learn to let people love me if they want to, and learn that I am not undeserving of that. I don't want to be perfect. I just want to feel good and be content with myself and my life.

"Needy"

I've been self-reflecting.

I've noticed that I need attention. A lot of it. Not from just anyone, though. I could care less if strangers pay attention to me, or if I am famous. Seems I only crave attention from those who claim to love me or care about me. I never thought I asked too much of my friends and loved ones... but maybe I do?

It'd be nice to receive daily texts, just updating me on their day, or how they are. Or asking me about my day. It'd be lovely to feel like someone can't wait to talk to me again. It would make my day to have someone call me and really connect for an hour or two. I'd love to know that if I really need to talk to someone, at least one person is ready to drop everything and listen and be present.

 I feel alone almost all of the time. I have no local friends, only long-distance ones through the internet. They're not always online, they have their own lives. My roommate is pretty much my closest friend, but she's working a lot, and when she comes home, she's de-stressing and doesn't want to interact with me. It's understandable! I am not placing blame on any of these people. They have lives. They have their own issues. It's not all about me.

And because I understand this, I have decided to stop reaching out. I will stay quiet, speak when spoken to, and let others come to me if they choose to. I will ask nothing from them and expect nothing. I do not want to be a burden and I do not want to be seen or thought of as some needy, clingy little child who can't leave people alone.

My therapist said that when babies are born, their eye sight only extends to 10 inches. They can't see anything beyond that. It's because 10 inches is the distance between a baby's face and the face of it's mother, when she is nursing. "We are hard wired to recognize faces and form connections with one another. When you need someone, you aren't being "needy". You're being human," he said.

I think that's beautiful. I think humans are meant to be together, to want attention, to be loved and doted on. I would happily dote on those I love. But in today's world... it just isn't what people want. They want convenience. Doting is not convenient. Making time for someone isn't convenient. Texting someone you care about to just ask how they are isn't convenient. And if someone texts YOU, because they're in need of a friend and some attention, it's seen as "needy" and looked at as a negative.

I can't really take any more rejection. I can't be in a constant state of being deprived because of needing attention and love that I never receive from those who say they care about me. Maybe I am just being selfish. Am I greedy for not being satisfied by the crumbs I am thrown? Am I to settle for the meager rations I get, when I know that the people I love could give so much more? Perhaps. I honestly don't know anymore. I can't tell what is "normal". I don't know what society deems "appropriate amounts of attention".

All I know is that I am not getting what I need. And so I will stop needing anything at all.

Holy Mother

I wish Mary was more recognized in Protestant faiths.

I grew up Southern Baptist (how this differs from ordinary Baptists, I don't know). We never talked about Mary except at Christmas time, when we were told the story of the virgin birth. In fact, Mary was sort of invisible in that church. Even when we acknowledged her, it  was in passing, a mere mention of the flesh and blood girl who gave birth to a savior. It always struck me as a little odd- to leave such an important woman out of the Christ story?

I have since drifted (no, run full speed) from the Baptist faith, and now I am definitely somewhere between Protestant and Catholic. What does that make me? Probably an Episcopalian. I have been attending an Episcopal church and I love it. I'll explain why in another post. But let's get back to Mary.

Growing up Baptist, I was taught never to think of Mary as anyone important. I was told about those "crazy Catholics" who prayed and worshiped to statues of Mary and saints innumerable; who used priests in confessionals to absolve them of sin, rather than going straight to the source, as we Protestants are taught. It was all pretty scary to me at the time. I was imagining some sort of cult-like organization who fell to their knees before gaunt carvings of Christ on the cross and woeful figures of Mary.

It wasn't until after leaving the Baptist faith that I started really thinking about Mary and her role in the story of Christianity. I wondered about her- who she was, what made her so special, what made her decide to accept the role of Blessed Mother of the Christ child? How did she live, raising a savior? How did she mother, why was she chosen by God? So I researched. And I am still researching today. I read anything I can get my hands on about Mary and her story.

She is special to me. Special because she was not only the vessel that brought forth Christ into this world, but also she was the very first disciple of Jesus. His very first believer. The mother of our fellowship. The mother of our church. She was with Jesus through almost every step of his journey. How can such a woman be denied acknowledgment when her role was so magnificent? In what way does including Mary in the Christian practice jeopardize or demean Jesus or God? I don't think it does! I think Mary belongs in the story of Christ. I think God chose her for a reason, and that Jesus himself wanted us to call her "Mother".

Thoughts On The Duggar Scandal

Okay, so in an attempt to avoid negativity and heartbreak in my life, I usually avoid all news. I am an empath and it takes but even a mention of some tragedy somewhere, and I am a crying mess. I don't watch any news broadcasts, I turn off the radio at news hour, and I never even glance at newspapers. Some people think I'm essentially burying my head in the proverbial sand. My response to that is usually:

Anyway, some news is pretty much unavoidable, since it's splattered all over social media like the vomit of a drunken coed. Such news I am here to talk about today is the Josh Duggar molestation incident. 

I haven't kept up with every detail of the case, since I really don't want to know. But one thing I heard through the grapevine about it is that the molestation was committed against the girls while they were asleep.  This struck me right in the feels, because in my own past, I was molested in my sleep by a youth minister of a Baptist church. I was not a child when it happened, which is I guess the one good thing I can say about the man who did it. But it did make me wonder how safe any kids were around him after that.

The scary/odd thing is that this is not the first or second or even third time that I have learned about a so-called man of the cloth molesting someone while they sleep. What is it about? Does the shame of what they are about to do make it impossible for them to assault someone while they're awake? Is there some kind of religious kink I don't know about associated with people who are sleeping? Psychologically speaking, this is very interesting to me.

Spiritually though? It makes me pretty sick.

Jealousy: A Cancer In The Bones

This verse gets me through some of my hardest days. Days when I look around me at all of the people who seem to have everything, seem to have their lives completely together. They have what I lack. They shine with qualities I don't have. They are talented, smart, beautiful, successful, happy. Everything I feel like I am NOT.

Add to all of these insecurities and moments of envy, the fact that I am currently in a polygamous relationship with a man and another woman, and you can see why I struggle with jealousy perhaps more than most. See, I am not jealous in a vengeful, hateful way. I don't do vindictive things in an attempt to get my way, or get my boyfriend all to myself. I actually love the other woman in our relationship, and I admire many qualities about her. I am happy that she wants both of us in her lives, and that my boyfriend sees the value and star-qualities in both of us women.

 A cute scene from the poly-friendly film 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona', depicting a poly relationship between a man and two women

My jealousy comes in the form of self-deprecation and self-pity, even. I will see the wonderful qualities in this other woman, and curse myself for not having those same qualities. I will look at all she has accomplished and feel resentful toward myself that I have not accomplished even half of what she has. I will look at her with our boyfriend, and think, "They are wonderful together and I do not deserve to be in the picture." And I will have feelings of wanting to put distance between me and them- sometimes I will even stop contact with them and descend into a spiral of self-hate and depression.

It's not their faults, it's mine. They do and have done all they can to make me understand that I am wanted and loved and welcome in the relationship. "We are all in this together, we are a family," they say. It's just me who has the problem of overcoming the jealousy I feel. A jealousy that was born due to the teachings of a conservative society.

You don't see positive depictions of poly families, unless there are disastrous or scandalous outcomes. You don't see love stories with two main female love interests. You don't see positive poly anywhere. Those of us who love in this manner are seen as sinful, lustful, un-Christian, and cult-like. The stereotype of underage girls in long prairie style dresses and braided hair- that's what you see in the media. Not loving, nurturing, healthy relationships between of-age partners who CHOSE that life.

 The typical negative poly image 

This is why I struggle with jealousy. A world that is constantly telling me that a man can only love ONE woman, a society that shuns my way of loving, and a media that is constantly portraying the "evils" of a multi-partner relationship. Without these negative influences, I believe that jealousy would plague my heart much less often than it does now.

In time, I hope to let go of my feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that comes from comparing myself to everyone else, so that I may focus on more important things. In the meantime, though, the bible verse I posted above is one of the only things that gets me through the days when I feel the little snag of jealousy. That, and of course, the love from my dear partners.

Do Not Worry

Rosary

I just prayed the Rosary for the first time. Took me a while to get through it, but I did, and it wasn't as hard as I anticipated. I had this nifty little guide:

And of course, my antique French rosary that has been handed down through my family:

Most of the shorter prayers I have down pat, but the longer ones (Hail Holy Queen and O God) are going to take me a lot longer to learn.
But I'll do it. Because it means something to me.

Fill In The Blanks

I stumbled upon this while checking Facebook:

I thought it was a great idea. Not just for those we keep company with, but also for ourselves. How many of us can put our own names in that verse and feel like it's an accurate reflection of how we are?

I know that I need work in the patience department, and probably the irritable/resentful part too. I think I'll reflect on this concept daily, and work to ensure that my name could fit in there, no question.

TBR Pile

Alright, if you know me and have known me for some length of time, you know that I have been an avid reader since I was 3 years old. Yep, I learned to read at age three. See, it's in my blood. Mostly from my father's side of the family. My grandmother reads. My aunts read. My dad reads. So I guess it was to be expected that I would share this addiction.

I remember reading so much and so carelessly, that I would neglect my homework and study time. I passed the tests anyway. That's what baffled my teachers. No studying, no homework, no class participation- but always grade 'A' test scores. So they wanted to see if I needed to be enrolled in the advanced classes in school. They tested me in the 5th grade, and all of my scores were college-level except for my scores in Satan's darling, MATH. Yeah, in that arena I scored about the same as a first grader. Bah. So no advanced classes for me. Instead, they kept me in regular classes and stuck me into Remedial Math classes. That's a story for another day.

Back to reading. This is my current TBR pile:

Mostly I love to read the classics (like Dickens up there on the top) and historical fiction or non-fiction (like Little House). There are certain authors whose every work I will devour simply because I have loved one of their books in the past (like Mr. John Updike up there). Other times, I read what speaks to me. And of course, I study the Bible almost daily.

I've been sort of slacking on my reading lately, what with the recent emotional and financial stresses I have been struggling with (and ok, an unhealthy addiction to Netflix), but today I plan to kick back on the couch with some classical soundtrack, and read for at least an hour.

Au revoir!

I Am The Onion

A couple of days ago, a friend linked me to this, saying that he thinks it describes me fairly accurately. I'll have to agree wholeheartedly. I'd like to use this particular post to try and explain the reasons why I am like this.


"The fearful-avoidant (sometimes called anxious-avoidant) share an underlying distrust of caregiving others with the dismissive-avoidant, but have not developed the armor of high self-esteem to allow them to do without attachment; they realize they need and want intimacy, but when they are in a relationship that starts to get close, their fear and mistrust surfaces and they distance."


Yes. I do need intimacy. It's rare that I develop it with someone, but when I do, I feel safe, secure, and extremely contented. My stress levels go down and my bipolar seems to even out. It's something I want but at the same time, don't believe I will ever find. Perhaps because of the way I was parented.

 Mistrusting those who show me "care" is something I do often. My mother was the key parent in my life. My dad was around, but only on sporadic weekends thanks to the decisions of the court, and so I spent most of my childhood with my mother. She is a narcissist. I'm not talking about figuratively. I mean clinically, she has Narcissistic Personality Disorder. If you take the time to read the article that link leads to, you'll figure out that caring for another person is not high on the priority list of a Narcissist. So it was with my mom. I basically raised myself. So is it any wonder that I can't trust people who come into my life announcing that they want to care about me?


"...at a distance the sufferer wants to get closer, but when he does, the fear kicks in and he wants to withdraw. This leads to a pattern of circling or cycling, and the fearful-avoidant can often be found in a series of short relationships ended by their finding fault with a partner who seems more threatening as they get closer to understanding them."


Story of my life. As soon as someone gets close to seeing "the real me", I'm desperately looking for a way out. It boils down to fear of being rejected or abandoned for not being seen as good enough or worth love.


"The early caregiving of a fearful-avoidant type often has some features of both neglect and abuse (which may be psychological—a demeaning or absent caregiver, rejection and teasing from early playmates.) A fearful-avoidant type both desires close relationships and finds it difficult to be truly open to intimacy with others out of fear of rejection and loss, since that is what he or she have received from their caregivers."


Again, this seems to suggest that growing up with a narcissistic parent had a lot to do with my fear of intimacy and rejection. Life with Mom was hard. That's a blog post for another day.


" ...the fearful-avoidant subconsciously believe there is something unacceptable about them that makes anyone who knows them deeply more likely to reject or betray them, so they will find reasons to relieve this fear by distancing anyone who gets too close."

Exactly, exactly, exactly. I not only believe that there is something unacceptable about me- I am CONVINCED that there is. I could make a mile-long list of what is unacceptable about me. I live and breathe the guilt and shame that comes with knowing *exactly* what's wrong with me.


"A narcissistic or demanding mother can cause a child to mold him- or herself to please the parent to the point where little remains of the child’s own feelings and personality; they have been trained to display a false personality to gain parental approval."

Really wasn't kidding about that narcissism thing, guys. And speaking of that "false personality"?...


"...the fearful-avoidant have commonly developed a false self, an acceptable outer personality which inhibits spontaneous display of their innermost thoughts and feelings even in intimacy. Those who think of themselves as their friends will often be surprised and hurt when high stress brings out the true personality of the masked one. By hiding their true selves, such people live with a social support network that has been attracted by their fake persona, so that when a crisis occurs, those who might have cared for them aren’t around, and those who are around don’t care for the real person revealed by the crisis."


My 'false self' is not technically a false one at all. It's just another part of me. Rather than a person wearing a mask, I think of myself as an onion. And if you are a cook at all, you know that an onion has layers. And the more layers you peel off of the surface, the closer to the core of the onion you'll get. My onion skin (outer layer) is what strangers and acquaintances see. I think we all have onion skin for strangers and acquaintances. But if you peel that away, you'll see the layer underneath. This is the layer that friends and love ones see. Then below that layer, you have the part of you that perhaps only BEST friends see. Then under that layer, the part that perhaps only a lover or a spouse will see. And below that layer, you have the part of you that NO ONE sees. Well, some people stop there. But not me. No, I have dozens more layers under that one. There are parts of me that *I* don't even see that often. There are parts of me that only my illness (bipolar) brings out. And there are parts of me that haven't been seen by anyone because they are buried in the darkest recesses of my mind and subconscious. You get my point with all of this.

So yeah. I am hard to get close to. I am "fearful-avoidant". I'm working on opening up more layers to more people, but it's not an overnight process. If someone wants to be in my life and seriously be a long-time friend or more, they're going to have to accept me as the onion I am, and never try to peel my layers before I am ready to peel them first.

Stalk Much?

I've been bingeing on a certain Episcopalian female blogger lately.

I find her posts incredibly funny, refreshing, real, and honest. Her intelligence is enlightening, her opinions are sound and fair, and her sarcasm only adds to the pot. I guess you could say I'm obsessed.

I especially appreciate her faith-centered entries, because as of late, my faith in God is the only thing I have to cling to. I'm a recluse who only leaves the house for doctor appointments and church, so my only access to other humans is through the internet. For about the past two weeks, all of my Skype buddies have been MIA. Busy, sleeping, working, or just not in the mood to chat. Hey, it's fine- they have lives, I won't fault them for it. But it does leave me feeling just a little isolated and rejected.

It's my own fault for being a needy, insecure simpering fool, I know. I should be out living my own life, not waiting around for others to pause theirs in order for me to feel better. I'm working on it.

For now though, I'll just console myself with more bingeing.

Seems I Have A Lot To Say Today

Second blog entry of today.

I received a call from my little brother (at 30, not so little anymore) today. He's been staying with extended family for a while until he gets his new out-of-city job secured and ready to go. He shed some light on recent opinions that were spoken about me by these extended family members. Could this be seen as gossip? Probably. Does that make me feel guilty for writing about it? Nope.

See, this particular family member has a notorious history of addiction. Her mother had it, her brother had it, her father had it. So the poor girl really got the short end of the stick when it came to this. She also happens to have a chronic pain disorder (or so she says) that allows her access to pretty much any pain medication. When I saw her last year, she made a huge production about the fact that she has ceased all pain medication and handles her chronic pain "as it comes", sans pills or patches. This struck me as odd in the moment, because of 1. the huge production part, and 2. the fact that I also happen to have the very same chronic pain disorder, and I can't live without some form of pain relief on my worst days.

So I kind of sort of knew she was lying about not being on pain meds.

Fast forward to today. My brother tells me that this particular family member has been caught trying to hide her massive pain pill addiction, and that her husband finally came clean about how much money they were spending on street pain meds. Pain meds that she claims she isn't taking. Pain meds that she told me STRAIGHT OUT that she is not taking.

Here's the thing about addiction: it's not a choice. I realize this, and I realize that this family member of mine needs help. I realize that my bitterness about being lied to is a natural reaction, even though I am aware that lying is just what addicts often do. And I also realize that my passing judgment on her (because seriously, that's what I did on the phone with my bro this morning) is unChristian and uncalled for. I will pray about that. And I will also pray for this girl, for her husband, and for their child/pets (who no doubt are suffering from living with her as well).

But please, do not think that you can lie to my face and that I will be stupid enough to swallow that lie whole. I am an INFJ (see this)  on the Myers-Briggs test, with an empath soul and trust issues. I will know if you are lying to me. And if you burn me once, you can be sure you will never be allowed close enough to me to do it again.

Let's Talk About Catching Feelings Too Soon

Almost any girl (and some guys?) will know what I'm talking about here. That awkward moment when someone tells you they are "falling for you" after only 2 days of talking...ONLINE.

Now, I'm not cold and heartless. I understand that sometimes feelings of  "oh my god you're so much of what I look for in a person!" can happen as soon as, well, the first conversation. I know how it is- you instantly click, you get one another's senses of humor, you have a similar background, you like the same foods, movies, music. All of this can be discovered within the first day of chatting. And it's okay to be excited at the potential that represents. Really, it is!

Everyone wants that type of connection. Everyone appreciates feeling like someone out there understands them and what they're about. It's fun and exciting to meet that person you feel like you have known forever. And yeah, at the risk of sounding like a desperation case- it can even be fun to imagine what possibilities lie ahead for you both.

But let's face harsh reality here.

As much as you love the fact that the other person adores Limburger cheese as much as you do, or attends church three times a week and loved your favorite book just like you do!, an honest to God solid relationship just can't be based on a 2-day acquaintance. It just can't. In two days, you haven't even begun to scratch the surface of a person.

People are kaleidoscopes. Fragmented shiny little pieces, all different shades and shapes and sizes. Some people carry more baggage than others. Some have hidden disorders. Some seem batshit crazy on the outside but are actually pretty damned stable. My point is that for all you know about a person in the course of 2 days (or a week, or hell, a year sometimes!), there is a whole heck of a lot that you don't know yet and probably can never know until you have spent considerable time with them in person.

So, the next time you are chatting online with that cutie who makes you feel all warm and fuzzy and full of potential, remember that you have only seen a sliver of who they really are. And try not to catch feelings too soon.

Bible Verses About Fear and Anxiety

Willowbrook Dream

I just awoke from a really strange and pitiful dream.

In the dream, I am a young boy of about 12 years old, with a little sister that I protect and care for. She is autistic and does not speak. We are both in some sort of Edwardian orphanage, where autism wasn't even a known-of thing. We are treated horrifically. The residents who are physically disabled suffer even more.

I remember getting lost in dark corridors, with what seemed like hundreds of doors and hidden passageways, and stairways at every turn. The walls were white, but the wainscoting and stairs were painted a dark, glossy black, which made it even harder to see. Most of the time I had no candle and had to feel my way around with my hands outstretched. My sister followed me around faithfully; she knew that no one else cared as I did.

I remember seeing rooms full of debilitated people, naked, and covered with their own filth. In rooms with no beds or light. Curled up on the floor or trying to climb walls. Ghostly, haunted faces. It reminded me of the famous 1980s Geraldo coverage of the conditions at Willowbrook Home, in New York. It was appalling and shameful and heartbreaking.

After waking from this dream, I prayed long and hard about the world. I prayed that people would find understanding and compassion in their hearts, and see the developmentally disabled and the physically disabled as children of God who need our love and protection from things they can't protect themselves from- such as this type of neglect and abuse.
I prayed that, if God wants it so, I someday may be used in service of these people. To care for and love them, when no one else will.

My feelings about the universe are changing yet again. I feel as though perhaps I will someday be able to be of use after all.

Insomnia

This is my night/morning so far:

- Have insomnia despite taking a sleeping pill.
- Finally fall asleep, only to have recurring nightmare about a woman weeping and not being able to locate her.
- Wake up from nightmare (after only 2 hours sleep) with heartburn.
- Can't fall asleep again so I get up and start playing the Sims 4.


This really is wearing me down. This illness has stolen the life from my body. I may as well be dead, because what life is worth living when it's like this???? I am just really down and sad about what I can no longer do.

So... About Positivity.

I created this blog in an attempt to express my positive thoughts and feelings, as I have them. I wanted it to be a place I could turn to when life got tough, as a lighthouse of sorts, to guide me back to positive thinking. In a way it is that. But lately I have realized that I no longer want to segregate my emotions into compartments.

I am partly positive, happy, in love with the simple and beautiful things in life. Ready to change and grow and love. Being positive is a healthy thing. It allows us to train our brains to see blessings instead of curses, and it's actually healthy for your physical body too!

But I am also partly negative. Dark, moody, cynical, and aware of every ugly thing this world holds. It's maybe my bipolar disorder that allows me to see both sides of life. But regardless- it's a valid part of my existence, and I choose to acknowledge it when need be.

Acknowledging the negative in your life is just as much of a necessity, I think. When I am always trying to avoid negative thoughts, I am stifling a part of myself. It builds and builds and becomes an elephant in the room! It also explodes sometimes and throws me into a long depressed state. I have learned that if I slow down and allow all of my feelings to have their moment of focus (positive and negative!), that I am a much more relaxed and balanced individual. It's just better for me.

Perhaps I will start making not only strictly positive entries here, but also the negative. I'll change it to something more realistic, more balanced. It seems healthier. More genuine. More me.

I Have To Do It!

I have to do it. I've been talking about it for years and I say I'm going to do it every week.

I'm going to church this weekend.

The thought scares me. I am a reclusive person, very uncomfortable in social situations, especially with strangers. But my spiritual health is more important than my fears, and I am finally going to make myself attend church, regularly. It's been on my mind heavily lately, especially around Easter. I am finally ready.