about yesterday's 6am-ish ravings on Robin Williams and the public

Yesterday, for my 6am-ish thoughts --a thing I sometimes post on Facebook before I go to bed-- I wrote:

"Robin Williams has not EVEN been dead for 24 hours and already people in the press and FB users are trying to wrap up the reasons for his suicide into a nice, little, understandable package so they can return to the safe thoughts of their mostly chemically-balanced brains. I understand, no one wants to imagine that life can be so FUCKING painful and unsafe. No one wants to think ...that this kind of shit might happen to you or someone you love. Please, take the pretty bow off the package and get a good look at that insane-panic-ridden-bloody-mass of pain and loss inside. This shit is REAL. Don't diminish the tragedy with your stupid and trivial insights. No one can guarantee that at some point this shit might come very, very, VERY close to you, and trust me, if it does, you'll want to punch the fucking lights out of anyone who tries to put it in parenthesis, like "he had mental illness," or "he struggled with addiction." Seriously? Just stop. You. have. no. idea. what you're talking about."

 

I'm sure my rant was not very clear, so this is my somewhat messy attempt to further explain what I mean. (It's messy because I have a migraine, as well as back and body pain, so please bear with me.)

 

The point I was attempting to make (in a fit of rage, if you couldn't tell) is that, as a survivor of two suicides --that of my father and my friend Gretchen--is that I know first hand how people (not all, but a major portion of them) attempt to put suicide in a less frightening box that can soon be put away in order to get back to their lives, while the survivors are left writhing and confused on a journey that may take years to sort out --if ever. Very much like this quote from Lemony Snicket, "You and I, of course, would never do this to any of our grieving acquaintances, but it is a sad truth in life that when someone has lost a loved one, friends sometimes avoid the person, just when the presence of friends is most needed."

In our culture we do not grieve well. A person dies, we have a funeral and reception, and then the grieving are expected to get over it, as quickly as they can. There was a time when grieving went on for a long while, some wearing of black for months, or a black band worn around the upper arm, as a reminder those grieving and those around the grieving that something tragic has happened, and there is still in pain.

In her book, "Stitches" Anne Lamott writes, "...the slow-motion pain of each private death and cataclysm we endure... slams us off our feet, yet we have agreed to pretend to be fine again at some point, ideally as soon as possible, so as not to seem self-indulgent or embarrass anybody, so people can get on with their lives," and, "What I resist is not the truth but when people put a pretty bow on scary things instead of saying, 'This is a nightmare. I hate everything. I'm going to hide in the garage."

THIS is what press and some people on FB are doing, saying "OMG Robin Williams is dead! RIP, man! We'll miss you!" Then they'll pack it up and in a months time (or less) nobody will be talking about it, because someone else famous will have died, or something political will come up for the press to sensationalize and people to argue over. This is fine, of course, as the Press and FB users do not know Williams personally, but only a few people are penetrating the heart of the matter.

One of my FB friends commented, "news is more marketable if it is presented in a certain way. society has a distaste for suicide as it usually happens among highly intelligent and valuable deep thinking individuals, and when a genius movie star success like Williams is associated with it, it is in fact a statement against the entire value system the culture enforces. So, this is water in the face of the culture's assumptions about life, success, happiness, and so on. The culture then seeks to redirect this inditement from being a statement how fucked up IT is, so it provides a bullshit tag lie excuse that is the myth of total personal choice and responsibility, such as: 'depression' or 'personal problems' 'addiction' or whatever that is supposed to mean it was their problem, when it is really the problem of the whole society, like a cancer cell grows in an unhealthy body.*

Some people are actually discussing the horrors of suicide and informing the public how to help people who are suicidal, as well as continuing to comfort the survivors.

I also want to mention that I have struggled with suicide since I was 15, and even more so when I suddenly had a chronic disorder and pain --which began almost 20 years ago. I was hospitalized for overdosing when I was 16, and then twice as an adult. I'm on more RX's than you can imagine. Only recently have I started to see my thought patterns change, thanks to God, my supportive family, friends and my incredible Christian counselor. But it's still a struggle --and it's so much more intricate than my chronic pain, depression, anxiety, etc.

Again, my point is that death and suicide are tragic, and our culture talks about tragic events for a week or so, and then go on. Grief is no longer explored to it's depths, and the intricacy of suicide is one we most certainly do not want to explore for very long, because it is horrific and very difficult to compartmentalize in little words like "depression" "mental illness" "drug addict" and so forth. THAT is what I mean by trivializing it. My father's death was much much more than "chronic pain." I WISH it was that simple and that I could just go on, but the truth is, it has been 7 years since the gunshot woke me and my life continues to be shaken and dismayed by it, whether people around me like that or not. THAT is why I said people should just stop trying to put it into a box, because, as Lemony Snicket wrote, "If you have ever lost a loved one [by suicide], then you know exactly how it feels. And if you have not, then you cannot possibly imagine it." (insert mine.)


*by Kurt Alejandro Linguini, edited for clarity.

My poetry chapbook is now on sale!

 

 

Preorders for my poetry chapbook are now available

at Finishing Line Press!

 

 

 

you know I do

First Peter, bold and emphatic, slices off an ear, and hours later fear has caught him by the throat
and he denies and denies and denies. Peter denied Jesus but was outside the temple, waiting.
Afraid and waiting, then cursing and denying.

I do not know him!

Yes. I know the same crowing. It startles the souls.

I am afraid.

I make people afraid.

She had been bent double for eighteen years and was unable to stand up straight.

They assume she has done something wrong to have yet receive her healing. So they will shut her away. Keep her quiet. Her suffering makes them ask. Makes them doubt. Certainly she has done something to be cursed! There must be an answer because they do not believe in a God who would allow a daughter to suffer for so long! There must be unrepented sin! Witchcraft! Blasphemy!

Will God allow us to suffer for as long as she has?

She needs correction. Criticism. Set her straight so we do not have to ask the same questions she is asking! Asking! Asking!

I was bold and emphatic once, then fear caught me by the throat. I have journeyed into this darkness that will not shut me away, though I want to be hidden. That will not quiet me, though I long to be stilled. If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.

All around me voices are crying He is risen! He is risen, indeed!

...the same power that rose Christ Jesus from the dead...

But I have yet to rise from the darkness. It is not the darkness of a tomb. It is the darkness of the question no one wants to ask for fear of the rooster crowing, and yet I ask it, again and again and again.

And He who has not forsaken me asks, do you love me? do you love me? do you love me?

Yes. Yes. Even in the darkness, yes, Lord, you know I do.

hello. i am a screw-up, married to a screw-up.

 One of the beautiful and miserable aspects of walking with Jesus is knowing you are completely and utterly loved, while also knowing you are a complete and utter screw-up. Sure, you can gain a good deal of knowledge and growth over the years walking with Him, but as soon as even the slightest bit of pride enters into your stride, you find yourself tripping over your own feet, saying, "Shit! What was I thinking? I really need Jesus to guide me in this life!"

 For whatever blessed reason, Jesus has really made sure that my husband and I stay in a place of needing Him, or better stated: a place of utter and complete writhing in desperation for Him, our faces smashed and bleeding on the cement.

 My early life before marriage was kind of typical. I spent my first eleven years in the suburbs of Pennsylvania, close to extended family members and had a close-knit group of friends. We attended a local church, I sang in the choir, and I adored Jesus. Then, my family was suddenly uprooted and dropped down into the hell flames of Boca Raton, Florida, and everything changed. The culture in Boca was nothing like what I had known. The school was four times the size of my previous school, there were clicks, rich people, poor people, diverse cultures, and teachers had no time or interest in the lives of their students.

 Within six years of living in Boca, I was drinking, doing drugs and having sex. I had been beaten, raped, abused and molested. I believed God existed, but I also believed I had let Him down too much, was too far gone and trapped in a lifestyle I could not change.

 At eighteen, I moved away to Tallahassee, Florida to attend college, and during a couple of years I found myself overwhelmed by God's wooing. I found a wonderful church, made Christian friends
and a year later I met my husband-to-be. Jeremy was 19. He had grown up in a Christian home, and the church he had attended was what you might call legalistic. From an early age he realized there was no one in his church he could relate to, plus being bullied and smacked around by older kids in children's church didn't exactly give him the impression that Christianity was a religion about love.

 So he found his group, as all children do, and it was with the broken boys, the ones he would grow up with and drink and smoke pot together. He eventually got a DUI. Then he moved away to college and roomed with a rich cocaine dealer. Coke became Jeremy's drug of choice. He did so much one night he looked in the mirror and could see his heart beating in his chest. So Jeremy prayed, drove back home, high, on the highway, to his parent's house, knowing he needed Jesus.

 Jeremy was just a good six or so months into his walk with Jesus when we met, and we married three months later, got pregnant three weeks later --and during that time a strange physical problem I had had on-and-off for the past year, decided to kick in and never leave. We had a beautiful baby boy three days before I turned 22, and six months later, Jeremy was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

 We had no idea what the hell we were going to do, or why Jesus gave us these great things along with such horrible ones.

 I would have to write a very long memoir to contain the crazy story that God has taken us through over these 19 years, but the proof of Jesus working in our lives is undeniable, although it has (and continues to) hurt like hell.

 With regret I can tell you that it wasn't until our son was about 15 that Jeremy and I stopped having screaming fights. Ugly, cursing fights were a norm in our home. In 2006, Jeremy's father died and Jeremy's drinking became the worst it had ever been. Then, in 2007, after my father killed himself in our front yard, we sought the help of a Christian marriage counselor, and Jeremy and I learned (finally!) how to communicate honestly, without yelling. Our fighting slowly decreased, and now it is extremely rare --so much so our son noticed and made the point to tell us a few years ago.

 Never mind the large amounts of past hurts Jeremy and I have brought along with us into our marriage (separate counselors are there for that), the tragic loss of our fathers, our being hurt by many Christians, or our financial struggles, for there remains two huge problems in our lives: for me, it is this untreatable, chronic condition that has, from the get-go, made me suicidal (I was hospitalized twice before my son was 3). For Jeremy, it's been the struggle of wanting to withdraw, and who can blame him? There's my debilitating disorder and depression he has no real power to heal (although he sacrifices every day to help me) and during the past couple of years he injured his lower back, so now he has daily pain, plus his blood sugar levels are a constant battle. At the end of the day, he just wants to retreat and watch YouTube videos of guitarists rocking out while he eats a bowl of cereal.

 Neither one of us has the best ingredients for a "happy marriage", but we have been there for each other, even when it has seemed the other has not. Even when we complain about one another. Even when we avoid each other. Even when we are fearful to be honest with the other, but eventually are.

 We could have thrown the towel in a million times, but even so, we have continued to keep Jesus as our hope. Otherwise, why would we continue to pray, to study His word, to seek counsel, to pray for one another, to even take chances to confide our pain in Christian friends, despite the dozens of times we have been injured by doing so?

Overall, Jeremy and I have learned there are two important ingredients to apply every day to sustain our secure, fumbling marriage, and the first is to say "I love you" as often as possible, and the second is to say, "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, is there anything I can do to help?"
In the end, isn't that where we find Jesus: loving and caring for us, utterly and completely, as screwed-up as we are?

swinging from joy to despair, and back again

 
 For twenty years I have heard the long list, the opinions, the sermons, the pat answers. I have read hundreds of books, prayed the prayers and fasted. I have stood on God's promises. I have had the laying on of hands. I have performed spiritual warfare. Rebuked demons and called on angels. I have believed, and I have doubted.

 Last year more than thirty of my friends and family fasted and prayed for me for a month. And yet here I remain, a pendulum swinging from feeling safe, normal and hopeful, to the other extreme: shaking with anxiety, crying, hopeless, desperate thoughts raging in my head, and all due to suffering. SUFFERING. For twenty years.

 If you know my story, you know the extensive lists of physicians, specialists, and therapists available in the medical community that I have sought. You know the many expensive procedures, nerve blocks and medications I have tried and the handful I am on. You also know the extreme measures I have gone to, from having an injection in the most sensitive of areas, to having my brain zapped --and both treatments were unsuccessful.

 I still try, with what is left in me, to hold out hope. I still cry and plead with God every day. Every. single. day. I attend a weekly bible study with great friends, I see a Christian counselor, and most precious to me is the love and support from my husband, and the sweet, tender heart of my son. I continue to seek Him, but after twenty years of swinging week to week from one extreme to the other... it is difficult to believe there is an end in sight.

 I look back ten years ago, when I was thirty, still young enough and still naïve enough to believe in the goodness of God, to believe that the medical community would study PGAD and come up with a cure. It is difficult for me to have faith in either of them now.

 I have to admit, I look around at the lives of many believers I have known over these twenty years  who have endured, and continue to endure, great trials and suffering, and I see the same hopelessness, weariness, anything but this "victorious life" we were taught we'd have. We have put our energy and faith into God and His word, only to continue in our personal pain, see our loved ones suffer and die, for great sorrow to wear us down. I know all the responses Christians make concerning this. I have been told that even though I cannot recognize it, I actually am walking in victory, I mean, God has sustained me for 20 years, right? He hasn't let me give up yet! I should feel privileged that He has chosen me to suffer, because my suffering has comforted others, and I should recognize His hand working in my life, and be grateful for all that He has taught me through suffering. As much as these statements may be true, my current response is: Well, isn't that just great?

 I am with St Teresa of Avila who cried out,“God, if this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!”

I do not have an answer or happy ending to this blog. I am simply stating, again, where I am: swinging from joy to despair, week-to-week, praying Psalm 13 again and again... and still not receiving an answer.

　

Psalm 13

1O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever?
How long will you look the other way?
2 How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul,
with sorrow in my heart every day?
How long will my enemy have the upper hand?

3 Turn and answer me, O Lord my God!
Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die.
4 Don’t let my enemies gloat, saying, "We have defeated him!"
Don’t let them rejoice at my downfall.

5 But I trust in your unfailing love.
I will rejoice because you have rescued me.
6 I will sing to the Lord
because he is good to me.

my dirty, ugly prayers

Sometimes when I pray, I call God names. Ugly names. I mean, I really tear into Him with curse words and insults. I am usually suffering, angry, and at my wits end when I pray this way. I tell Him I am giving up, that He's a bleeping son of a bleep. That I hate Him. That if He wants me to be different, to have faith, to trust Him, to not suffer, to not always resort to suicidal thoughts, then HE is going to have to bleeping do something about it, because I am no Job! I am not able to say "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised." Oh, hell no! I am all, "Hey Lord, you've taken away so much from me, you bleeeeep!"

Your jaw may have dropped open by now, but listen: I am honest with my Father and my Lord and Savior, and make no apologies for it. These "dirty, ugly" thoughts are in my heart anyway, so none of it surprises Him. He always hears me out, cursing and all, and I love Him for it. Many times, and I mean many many times, after my "dirty, ugly" prayers, God surprises me. Sometimes it's within an hour, or a day or week. Suddenly I'll have strength where I had none, or my symptoms decrease, or I am able to wake before sunset! It's crazy. He's crazy! After cursing Him out, God responds to me with love! Maybe that's because He is love, maybe it's because He truly sees how naked and weak and desperate I am. Many times I have even given Him ultimatums, which I have always been taught is a big no-no. "No drawing lines in the sand with God." Well, I don't draw lines, I dig huge, bleeping trenches and say, "IT'S ALL YOU, GOD! IT IS YOUR TURN TO DO SOMETHING, YOU BIG BLEEPING JERK!"

For years I was taught from the pulpit or from legalistic Christians that God is scary. Don't piss Him off. Be on your best behavior. Hide your true feelings from Him. Be polite and humble and self-degrading when you pray, or else He's gonna getcha!

The Father God I have come to know sees me, His small and weak and angry daughter, cursing at Him while digging what I think is a trench, which He sees like the moat a child digs around a sand castle. He smiles kindly at me, steps over the moat, and says, "Let me show you my love, little one."

This reminds me of something quite impressive in a book I am reading (and highly recommend) called Unclean: Meditations on Purity, Hospitality and Morality by Richard Beck. In the book, Beck focuses on the psychology of disgust, and how this has and continues to effect the church. It's so deep and fascinating I could write about it all night, but in keeping with my "dirty, ugly" prayer, I want to offer an illustration the author uses that blew my mind:

"If I am to touch... some feces to your cheeseburger the cheeseburger gets ruined, permanently... Importantly, the cheeseburger doesn't make the feces suddenly scrumptious. When the pure and the polluted come into contact the pollutant is the more powerful force. The negative dominates the positive. Negativity dominance has important missional implications for the church. For example, notice how negativity dominance is at work in Matthew 9. The Pharisees never once consider the fact that the contact between Jesus and the sinners might have a purifying, redemptive, and cleansing effect upon the sinners. Why not? The logic of contamination simply doesn't work that way. The logic of contamination has the power of the negative dominating over the positive. Jesus doesn't purify the sinners. The sinners make Jesus unclean. ...What is striking about the gospel accounts is how Jesus reverses negativity dominance. Jesus is, to coin a term, positivity dominance. Contact with Jesus purifies." (Bold emphasis mine)

I understand that Beck is not talking about prayer here, but when I read this I understood why I never feel guilty after I pray my dirty, ugly, curse-word laden, degrading-God's-very-character prayers, and the reason is because I am like the sinners, coming into contact with Holiness Himself! My words do not offend or hurt God, in fact, He is able to understand exactly where they are coming from and why I am saying them, and He responds to me, saying, "Yes, I completely understand why you are saying these things. You are in My presence, and it is here that I change, purify, redeem and cleanse you." In really weird layman's terms: The cheeseburger touching the feces actually turns the feces into something scrumptious.

Now I know some of you may be citing James 3:8 -10, "But no one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the likeness of God; from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way."

It is important to note that this verse is about cursing fellow humans, and that kind of cursing can be defined as degrading another person or wishing evil upon them. I have found, that more often than not, degrading someone is done without using what our culture has deemed "curse words." There is no such thing as a "curse word" --but that's a blog for another time.

The verses from James is a reflection of what Jesus says in Matthew 5:22 "...whoever says to his brother, ‘Raca!’ will be in danger of the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of Gehenna." When translated, "Raca" means "Good for nothing." Note these degrading words do not contain "curse words." Jesus knows that when we insult or degrade one another in any form, it does emotional damage. Jesus, on the other hand, cannot be emotionally damaged. Let me emphasis again, God already knows what is in our hearts! We are not fooling Him by using polite language.

Now, I'm not advocating for everyone to start using curse words in their prayers, and I understand that our culture and the church has claimed certain words to be "unclean" and some people would feel it is inappropriate, if not a sin, to include "curse words" in their prayers. What I am hoping for, if you get anything out of this blog, is that you can be utterly honest with God.

I readily admit that I am screwed-up and have issues, just like everyone else, but I have seen --and continue to see-- that when all of our stinking bleep is strewn out before the throne of God, He is not shocked, surprised or offended, and our crazily compassionate God will always respond to us with love, and even call us, each, "My beloved child." That is who our God is.

I will leave you with Psalm 88, a beautiful, ticked-off, doubting, desperate and blaming God for all my troubles song:

I Cry Out Day and Night Before You

A Song. A Psalm of the Sons of Korah. To the choirmaster: according to Mahalath Leannoth. A Maskil^[a] of Heman the Ezrahite.

O Lord, God of my salvation;
    I cry out day and night before you.
² Let my prayer come before you;
    incline your ear to my cry!

³ For my soul is full of troubles,
    and my life draws near to Sheol.
⁴ I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
    I am a man who has no strength,
⁵ like one set loose among the dead,
    like the slain that lie in the grave,
like those whom you remember no more,
    for they are cut off from your hand.
⁶ You have put me in the depths of the pit,
    in the regions dark and deep.
⁷ Your wrath lies heavy upon me,
    and you overwhelm me with all your waves. Selah

⁸ You have caused my companions to shun me;
    you have made me a horror^[b] to them.
I am shut in so that I cannot escape;
⁹     my eye grows dim through sorrow.
Every day I call upon you, O Lord;
    I spread out my hands to you.
¹⁰ Do you work wonders for the dead?
    Do the departed rise up to praise you? Selah
¹¹ Is your steadfast love declared in the grave,
    or your faithfulness in Abaddon?
¹² Are your wonders known in the darkness,
    or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?

¹³ But I, O Lord, cry to you;
    in the morning my prayer comes before you.
¹⁴ O Lord, why do you cast my soul away?
    Why do you hide your face from me?
¹⁵ Afflicted and close to death from my youth up,
    I suffer your terrors; I am helpless.^[c]
16 Your wrath has swept over me;
    your dreadful assaults destroy me.
¹⁷ They surround me like a flood all day long;
    they close in on me together.
¹⁸ You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me;
    my companions have become darkness.^[d]

So anyway, my poetry manuscript is GOING TO BE PUBLISHED!

Yeah, it's no biggie. I've only been waiting for this since I was fifteen years old.

I've only submitted manuscripts of my poetry to publishers about half a dozen times within the past 25 years, but the closest I've ever come was receiving an "Honorable Mention" in a chapbook contest that was about six years ago, but it came without publishing. Of course I was thankful for the nod of encouragement, so the following year I submitted to yet another contest and did not receive anything but a rejection letter. After that, I wasn't able to go through the work and frustration again, so I stuck to just writing poems, figuring it wasn't God's will for me to have a chapbook. Ever.

I can't remember how it came about, but sometime last year, I found out that Finishing Line Press was holding a chapbook contest. I went to their website and was excited to read that even if your manuscript didn't place, it would be considered for publication. I knew about Finishing Line Press because many talented poets I know have had their chapbooks published by them. Even though the possibility of being rejected again was huge, I figured, why the hell not? It's not like I'm busy with anything, and this will give me something creative to do besides playing Scrabble on Facebook.

In case you are not familiar with the term, Writer's Digest defines a chapbook as "a small collection of poetry, generally no more than 40 pages, that often centers on a specific theme... It’s typically saddle-stitched (like a pamphlet or magazine) and is a format well suited to smaller print-runs." It's how most poets start out: a few chapbooks, and if you're good, then eventually a full length collection is published.

The work of putting my manuscript together for the contest was as much thrilling as it was depressing. I read through files, years of poetry, and in the end, I found only 30 poems that were maybe, just possibly worthy of being in a collection. So I edited and edited, cut, scrapped and rearranged words and stanzas like a collage of photographs.

When I finally had everything printed out and ready to mail, I prayed. I said something like this, "Lord, I know writing poetry is a gift that You have given me, and some of my poems have been very good, but I know that most people entering this contest are far more talented than I am. So, I've decided to leave the end result up to you, and since I will most likely be rejected, please help me to not get too depressed when I get the 'thanks, but no thanks' results."

Months went by, and I mean so many months that I actually forgot about the contest -well, that could  have a little to do with all the drugs I am on- but then, on the afternoon of January 12th, I woke up, had my chai tea and talked with the Big Guy, and got around to checking my e-mail and there was something from Finishing Line Press, with the subject reading, "CHAPBOOK ACCEPTANCE: water unto light". A few days later I got this in the mail:

Ever since, I have had moments of elation, anxiety, frustration, fear, joy, anger and just plain freaking-the-hell-out -but that emotional struggle I will cover in my next blog. In the meanwhile, please thank God with me, because He is the one who has made this happen! YAAAAH!

expect more errors (a late new year post)

As I began to write this entry, a little window popped up on my computer screen that read something like, "Error: Possible problem with your *allgreek2me file. Expect more errors."

I had to smile, because "Expect more errors" has been a significant part of what God has been trying to teach me this past year of 2013. Come to think of it, it wouldn't be a bad idea if I were to have that line tattooed on the back of my hand for an excruciating five or six hours in every color available until the truth and pain and dye mixed with my blood, traveled up to my skull, and inscribed itself deep in my brain. Then, maybe I'd no longer be surprised when errors occur in my life, because, for some strange reason, I continue to be taken aback when something goes terribly wrong.

Take today, for instance: it was supposed to be a good day, and by today I mean yesterday (I live in the world of nocturnals). The night before (which would be your morning) I planned on going to bed early, just like I plan to do every night, but once again, I tragically failed. You'd think changing a sleeping schedule wouldn't be so hard, but it's extremely complicated, trust me. Some people have judged me as being irresponsible because of my sleeping routine, but it's not like I'm up partying or anything, I just have issues in nearly every part of my human being, and late nights are a symptom of the sickness.

Whenever I try to change my strange sleeping symptom --or any of my other unusual symptoms-- my deep down "error" resists with all it's got. It goes something like this: I take my sleeping medication a few hours before I normally do, hoping I might actually be able to wake up before sunset, but hell no, that little pill gives me the middle finger while sliding all the way down my throat. I can almost hear it laughing, "Ain't gonna happen, loser!" Then, I end up staying awake until dawn, 'til sleep finally finds me.

When I do wake up, and I mean like every time, it is always with pain. Lots of pain. (Jeez this is a happy blog!) So every afternoon or early evening when I wake, I get up, take three different prescription pills (two for pain, plus one muscle relaxer) then I go back into my bed and wait 20 minutes until some of the pain has faded and I can moan my way down the hall.

Last night and today, I attempted my useless approach to normalcy once again: I was going to go to bed before dawn, wake up before 4pm, and get out of the house to have a lovely dinner-and-a-movie with my husband, because, you see, we haven't even gone out to celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary, which was on November 19th, 2013!

But this is life with chronic disorders and pain, which I might be able to accept, if it weren't for the times when I have a couple of days with minimal pain or bother, and the thought occurs, "Hey, I am getting better! I may just be an almost-nearly-normal-girl now!" Oh, but give it a day or two, and  HOLY HELL that damn rug gets pulled out from under me and I'm right back to Heather's-depressing-life-as-a-near-shut-in with my ass on the same old pain-relief cushion, with the same old heating pad, sitting at the same computer, going to the same websites while the television is on some boring channel, like Home and Garden, and my husband is kindly waiting on me. There's usually a dog snuggled beside me though, which is nice.

Over this past year, I have been seeing a true-Godsend-of-a-Christian-counselor, and with her, God has helped me to see that even in this chronic-disorder-almost-useless-life: I am blessed. I am seriously blessed. I can't list the hundreds of ways, but my favorite are my bend-over-backwards, loving husband, my sweet and delightful son, our wonderful dogs and pretty house, my dear supportive mom, my friends, and how all of our needs are always provided for. For no particular reason, God continues to shower His love upon my family and I.

For this coming year of 2014, one of my main prayers is that God will help me to not freak out or become disheartened when those windows of error pop up in my life, but instead, learn to say "God, you are good. You are in control, and even with all these errors, I am still blessed. Thank you."

Pissed-off Posts and Core Values

Last night, one of my close friends pointed out that there are times my Facebook posts scare people. She explained that many of my posts seem to contradict the person that she and my other friends know me to be: kind, non-judgmental and encouraging --which I hope is true.

After I thought about what she said, I acknowledged that I really do love people, and because I am an INFP personality (according to Meyers-Briggs tests) I honestly care about people, and long for them to know and experience the true, liberating and uplifting Love of God.

INFP's are considered "healers" but also "idealists." My personality type has strong, core values and beliefs, and although the majority of the time we are happy and serene, when our values or beliefs are met with opposition, we become... well, let's just call it passionate, although scary may also be a correct term.

Since INFP's are introverts who spend a good deal of time reading and reflecting on the human condition, you can only imagine the many articles, blogs, videos and comments on the internet that make me outraged on a daily basis!

I have gotten better though, believe it or not, as years have taught me to choose my battles. I bite my proverbial tongue far more than I comment or post.

Oh-but-for-goodness-sake the things I come across that enrage me the most come from rotten, untruthful, deceitful theology --the very kind of lies disguised as biblical truths that I was once burdened with, and suffered horribly in my faith as a result!

So today I decided to make a short list of some of my core beliefs and values, and after you read them, perhaps you will understand why I post the kind of passionate, scary, and hopefully challenging things that I do on Facebook.

What I believe:

- The Trinity is LOVE.

- The Trinity loves ALL creation with an incredible passion that no one cannot fully comprehend.

- Jesus redeemed ALL of creation on the cross, so that ALL of creation will be resurrected in perfect, glorified form to live eternally on the New Earth. (Col 1:20)

- Christians are called to LOVE and to be examples of LOVE by LOVING with the LOVE of Jesus, who is LOVE.

- Christians must remember that it is the LOVE of the Trinity that first drew us, and that same LOVE is what draws others.

- Christians cannot, and should not, expect non-Christians to live like Christians.

- Christians cannot pick and choose scriptures to fit their agenda. If Christians are going to make homosexuality an issue, then they better make equal issues of divorce and obesity.

- It is a sin for "Christians" to use guilt, fear, shame or wrath to make "converts."

- In Christ there is neither male nor female, therefore, women should be given any/all roles that are currently available to men in The Body of Christ.

- The letters in the Bible were written for a particular people in a particular culture, and must be read in that context.

- Our Creator ADORES animals and the earth (calling it "good"), and as Christians, we are called to be stewards of the earth/ministers of reconciliation to all creation. This should be reflected in what we choose to eat, wear, purchase, and how we treat the environment.

- Christians should not attempt to come up with reasons for why Christians suffer apart from the many New Testament scriptures that confirm we suffer because Christ suffered, and that in our suffering we receive God's comfort, and that our suffering is not in vain, but has value and glory in the New Earth to come.

-Christians should never ever invalidate another believer's suffering by claiming that their lack of faith is withholding God's healing. (Invalidation is a form of psychological abuse.)

-The most helpful, loving thing a Christian can do for anyone who is suffering, in any kind of way, is to be compassionate and supportive. Do not preach, do not tell them how they should feel or view their situation.

-Even as much as I do not like it: God is in control of all things. According to Job, Satan cannot do anything without God's permission, so all good and bad things are under His control, and we should not EVER try to explain WHY. All we can do is trust He is for us and loves us.

- It is a lie to believe that "God cannot stand in the presence of sin". Sin never was and never will be more powerful than God. If the Accuser aka Satan stands day and night before the throne of God accusing the brethren, then God can totally be in the presence of sin.

Lastly:

- Christians, myself included, do not have all the answers, and that's okay.

This is not a complete list by far (aren't you glad) but as long as people keep posting articles and "inspirational" images (with just a pinch of guilt) contrary to my list above, then I'm going to keep on spreading my passionate, scary and challenging posts on Facebook.

Like I said, I honestly long for people to know the true love of the Trinity, and my passionate posts may not reach many people, but it is my hope that in someway my posts will help un-do the hateful, judgmental and condemning lies about God that well-meaning, but deceived people, toss like yeast in the dough of cyberspace.

What the DUCK? Thoughts on the Outrage over Phil Robertson's Interview with GQ

 

 

If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.  

(1 Corinthians 13: 1-3)

By now, nearly everyone has heard about GQ magazine's recent interview with Duck Dynasty's Phil Robertson and how Robertson, when was asked for his definition of sin responded, “Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men.” He continued by paraphrasing 1 Corinthians 6:9-10.

GQ then goes on to explain that the Duck Dynasty family have been made "into ideal Christian icons..."

Christian icons. That alone is scary.

So ever since the article in GQ was released there has been an uproar from the gay community, and in response, A&E announced that Robertson would be suspended from upcoming Duck Dynasty episodes.

As one would expect, many in the Christian community have responded with an uproar all-their-own because their icon will no longer appear on the show. Thousands of Christians have joined Facebook groups and signed petitions for Robertson. On Christianity Today's website, Chris Stone, founder of Faith Driven Consumer said that Robertson is "being censored and punished for quoting the Bible..."

To be honest, I am outraged too, but not because the Duck Dynasty "king" will no longer be on a show that I never watched. I am outraged because the majority of my fellow Christians are, once again, making a huge fuss over the wrong matter, shaking their fists at A&E and posting, "I stand with Phil Robertson" all over Facebook, as though a mighty injustice has been done to free speech, the right to religious beliefs, and that this ordeal is anti-Christian persecution. I won't go into the reasons why this perspective is sadly inaccurate, but you're welcome to read one of my favorite blogger's posts on the matter: "Real vs. Fake Christian Persecution: how to tell the difference".

Another reason I am outraged is because my fellow Christians are not outraged at the fact that here we have yet another horrible representation of a follower of Jesus! Don't we already have enough of these misleading "Christian icons" with The 700 Club, Joel Osteen, Mark Driscoll, Fox News and their kind? Mr. Robertson and those mentioned above are not spreading the gospel in the way Jesus instructed his followers.

And why the duck is the Christian community giving Robertson an oh-well-we-all-say-stupid-things-sometimes pass over the fact that he said "a vagina... has more there" and "She has more to offer." Is that not a completely disrespectful, undermining, sexually objectifying statement against women? If the pastor of your church said that in a magazine interview, would you be surprised that he was suspended from his position?

In a USA Today opinion piece, Steve Deace explains that this incident with Robertson is giving power to a 'tolerance' society who are trying to make American Christians afraid to publicly declare what the Bible says about sin, and well, this should trouble us, because Jesus never minced words when it came to sin, right?

It's funny, because when I take a good look through the gospels, I see that Jesus was often harsh and painfully honest when pointing out the sins... of the Pharisees, the Teachers of the Law, the hypocrites --those who believed themselves to be the ministers of God's word! Check out Matthew 23 to see what I mean.

On the other hand, when I read the gospels, I do not see Jesus speaking publicly with the same harsh tone he used with the Pharisees. Jesus was not a "bible-thumper" with the crowds, no, to them he proclaimed the love of the Father, admonished them to love one another, to forgive their enemies, and he kinda made a big deal about not judging one another.

While I am outraged at the many "Christian icons" misrepresenting the gospel, I am also thrilled that there is currently a person very much in the public eye: Pope Francis, who was just made person of the year in both Time and the LGBT magazine The Advocate!

Pope Francis is effectively drawing all kinds of people and renewing a global interest in God. How is he doing that? The answer is not hard to see: Pope Francis is actually demonstrating the Father's love! Yes, the Pope's open, loving, non-judgmental ways are truly impacting people, as well as upsetting many conservative, fundamental Christian leaders --and don't think for one moment that is a coincidence! If the Pope is getting the same kind of reaction from religious leaders that Jesus did while he was ministering on earth, then maybe we should take it as a sign that this way of spreading the gospel --with love, not with bible thumping-- is the way Jesus intended!

When it comes to his concerns for the church, Pope Francis recently said that his "hope is that we will be moved by the fear of remaining shut up within structures which give us a false sense of security, within rules which make us harsh judges, within habits which make us feel safe, while at our door people are starving and Jesus does not tire of saying to us, 'Give them something to eat.'"

Now that is something I believe is worthy of Christians to be upset about: the world around us is poor and starving, and there are more of us shouting protest for a man being thrown off his reality show than there are those who are raising their voices to help the people in our cities who have no home, no belongings, and no glorious dining-room table to place a roasted, wild duck upon.

so, i'm 40 now, and my son is 18

there is really too much to say, and i haven't had the energy or desire to put words in this blog. but since my family just experienced two monumental birthdays, i feel compelled to write something.

on the 12th, Jonah turned 18. his dad and i are amazed that he is now a "man" and a wonderful man at that.

to commemorate his 18th year, i put together a scrapbook of photos from his life, as well as letters from us, his grandmothers, aunts and uncles, and family friends. this will not be a scrapbook left on the coffee table for anyone to see, but his personal book to hopefully give him encouragement now, and in future as well.

the idea for the scrapbook came about from some old advice a christian counselor once gave, explaining how other cultures have a "rite of passage" when a child in their family or community becomes an adult.

in the culture Jeremy and i were brought up in, this doesn't seem to be the case. maybe high school graduation does it for some. i didn't have a graduation. i dropped out because of chronic migraines and i actually got my GED before my class graduated. but i never got to throw a square hat up in the air.

from the pictures i've seen of Jeremy's graduation, he wasn't fully present. he's wearing a sly, relaxed smile, and his eyes are small and puffed up. emphasis on puffed.

when we married, Jeremy was one year older than Jonah is now. i know. holy crap, right? we've advised Jonah against going down the same path, unless it is God's will. it was God's will for us, we just didn't know a whole lot about God or what his will actually looks like. we honestly believed we'd be alternative, christian musicians. we wrote songs, we were pretty, and God was going to make us very popular and prosperous as we spread the gospel through our cool, christian songs. oh. boy. how stupid.

thank God Jonah is far wiser and realistic than we were. he doesn't have super, big, crazy expectations about his future. he lives very much in the moment, and his faith in God is strong and steady. he can even verbally express his feeling and thoughts coherently, and get to the bottom of what is going on inside him. Jeremy and i just began learning this technique five or so years ago. no, i'm serious.

i know i cannot control what God brings into Jonah's future life, but i pray pray pray that he has a better, less pain-and-suffering life than we have had. there are lots of christians out there who have it pretty good, and if it is God's will that Jonah be one of them, i'll be very happy. i don't need another reason to be angry and doubt God and his love. seriously. i'm working deeply with my christian counselor on such matters, and it is good, but, as always, scary as hell. scary as hell to trust God? yes.
but i'm not going to go on about that. not now.

i will, however, tell you that on the 15th i turned 40, had a Doctor Who costume party, because that's what i do (i'm really a 10 year old at heart, in case you didn't know) and i was incredibly blessed by my friends and family who attended. even Jeremy's mom was in town to celebrate with us! Jeremy baked Jonah and i cakes, mine was a TARDIS blue, gluten free, vegan cake (soooo yummy) and Jonah's a yellow cake with chocolate fudge icing. then, a few days later, my dear, dear bible study friends threw me a surprise birthday dinner: vegan sushi!!! heck, yes!

so in the end, our birthdays were filled with love, fun and blessings, and i am so grateful to God, and our family and friends who celebrated with us! THANK YOU!!! it means more than you know.

i am INFP, what are you?

do you know what personality type you are? finding out may liberate you, as it did for me.

i have always wondered (and often hated) why i am so odd/unusual/freakish, and why i have needs and habits i cannot shake, such as the need to spend a lot of time alone, or why i am often disorganized and unmotivated. why do i feel so incredibly passionate about certain things, like raising awareness about the horrors of meat industry, and for fellow believers to really "get" and experience the love God has for them, and the freedom that is found in His love!

so, i took many different versions of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator tests that are available on-line, and my results kept coming up INFP. but before i get into that, here are the 16 different personality types, and four different categories those types fit into, according to Myers-Briggs:

after reading about my type, it was as if God was saying to me,"You are the way you are, because I made you that way!" which was very reassuring. of course, not all of the attributes of an INFP apply to me (like being shy or reserved), but the majority of them do.

here's a breakdown of the letters INFP:

here's a summary of an INFP:

INFP is rare personality type, making up about 4 % of the population.
INFPs are the flower children of the personality types. They never lose their sense of wonder. As children INFPs will live in both the fantasy and the real world, switching back and forth effortlessly. Their imaginations are vast and they are the children whose toys come to life and who have imaginary friends. Some INFPs claim that everything has a "soul", animals and humans alike. (Yep, that's me!)

INFPs, more than other iNtuitive Feeling types, are focused on making the world a better place.
INFPs are passionate about their values, and find meaning in supporting the personal development of others. They easily recognize the possibilities for growth in themselves and others, and often have a vision for how to heal the world around them. INFPs often feel dejected because of the numerous bad things happening in the world and try hard to create something positive within it.

An INFP views their conflicts as being on a grander scale relating to all situations – not simply in the moment, but looking at all of life as Good vs. Evil. INFPs believe that good always triumphs over evil and will want to spread this message to anyone who will listen.

INFPs always have a sense of other-worldliness about them and are often caught day-dreaming.

Many writers and poets are INFPs, as they may be awkward and uncomfortable with expressing themselves verbally, but have a wonderful ability to define and express what they're feeling on paper.

 

INFPs have a strong sense of metaphor. They may ascribe human characteristics to animals or inanimate objects. For example, they may see a fly sitting on the glass and wonder what it is thinking, then come up with a meaningful story about how it feels to be separated from everything you desire by an invisible wall.

 

INFPs feel restricted by rules and structure and have a hard time performing job tasks that do not connect to their values. INFPs do not like to deal with hard facts and logic. Their focus on their feelings and the Human Condition makes it difficult for them to deal with impersonal judgment. The INFP is not particularly driven by money or status, preferring work that aligns with their personal values and allows them to help others.

Although they view the world in a joyous manner, INFPs are not exempt from feeling down at times; they struggle to maintain ethical perfection and will feel as if they failed when they are being anything less than "perfect" in the humanitarian sense. Of all types, INFPs are most likely to report suicidal thoughts.

There is a crusading side to the INFP. When personal values or beliefs are trodden on, the INFP can become outspoken and turn on the transgressor. The INFP becomes like a champion of the causes they hold dear, and will be expressive, animated and at times go for the jugular.

INFPs do not like to be categorised. They value their autonomy, and feel "different", and like that.

INFPs have deep emotions which are often hidden until a circumstance reveals them. Their abstract thinking, related to the prefrontal cortex, suggests that INFPs have deeper emotions then most.

Highly creative, artistic and spiritual, INFPs can produce wonderful works of art, music and literature. INFPs find great satisfaction if they develop their artistic abilities. That doesn't mean that an INFP has to be a famous writer or painter in order to be content. Simply the act of "creating" will be a fulfilling source of renewal and refreshment to the INFP.

 

^ this is me back in the 90's!

 

Some famous INFP's are C.S. Lewis,  J.R.R. Tolkien, Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Edgar Allan Poe, Shakespeare, John Lennon, Kurt Cobain, J.K. Rowling, Tim Burton, Florence Welch, Thom Yorke and Morrissey.

 

INFP summary: creative, smart, idealist, loner, attracted to sad things, disorganized, avoidant, can be overwhelmed by unpleasant feelings, prone to quitting, prone to feelings of loneliness, ambivalent of the rules, solitary, daydreams about people to maintain a sense of closeness, focus on fantasies, acts without planning, low self confidence, emotionally moody, can feel defective, prone to lateness, likes esoteric things, wounded at the core, feels shame, frequently losing things, prone to sadness, prone to dreaming about a rescuer, disorderly, observer, easily distracted, does not like crowds, can act without thinking, private, can feel uncomfortable around others, familiar with the dark side, hermit, more likely to support marijuana legalization, can sabotage self, likes the rain, sometimes can't control fearful thoughts, prone to crying, prone to regret, attracted to the counter culture, can be submissive, prone to feeling discouraged, frequently second guesses self, not punctual, not always prepared, can feel victimized, prone to confusion, prone to irresponsibility, can be pessimistic

 

favored INFP careers: poet, painter, freelance artist, musician, writer, art therapist, teacher (art, music, drama), songwriter, art historian, library assistant, composer, work in the performing arts, art curator, playwright, bookseller, cartoonist, video editor, photographer, philosopher, record store owner, digital artist, cinematographer, costume designer, film producer, philosophy professor, librarian, music therapist, environmentalist, movie director, activist, bookstore owner, filmmaker

 

 

if you are interested in finding out what personality type you are, go here:

http://www.16personalities.com/

 

or for a shorter version:

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp

 

small-ish

I feel as though I am still waking from the strange dream of December.
I am here, but not yet fully alert.

On Christmas day, Jeremy, Jonah and I opened presents and Jeremy made us a wonderful dinner.
I am so grateful for my two guys. They are the two most precious people in the world to me.

Christmastime comes these days (or past few years) with memories and the heartache of missing those times when we were a young, married couple, when Jonah was a little boy, of how at Christmas we traveled to see my parents, sister and nephew in Georgia, then drove through to Alabama to see Jeremy's family. We took for granted that such times would end, that our fathers would be gone, and our traditions and gatherings gone with them. The whole family dynamic changes when the patriarch of a family dies.

Thankfully, this year, we did get to see family during the month of December. My sister and her son were able to come out before Christmas, on the weekend of the 15th, for our Hobbit Holiday Celebration. Then Jeremy's family came to visit us a few days after Christmas. There were nine guests altogether that time, and it was wonderful to have a house full of those we love!

I am grateful to God for making it possible for our family to visit us, because we really cannot travel these days, so our time with family is very precious.

I didn't get to see my mom this Christmas or last Christmas either, which was hard. You see, my mother was at the heart our family Christmases. When my sister and I were little, she went above and beyond at Christmastime, and my father played a huge part too. There were about 20 boxes of Christmas decor which were strewn all over the house --inside and out. There were cookies to be baked, letters for Santa, Christmas caroling, parties, and then Christmas morning, which was the best.

My mom carried on with most of our family Christmas traditions for a couple of years after dad died, but then we were unable to travel out to see her (or even Jeremy's family) and suddenly all of us --our mothers, siblings and their families-- found our Christmases to be much smaller, if not much lonelier. Maybe if we had not known how big and magical Christmas could be, then our Christmases today would not seem so small and empty. I am not saying we take Christmas for granted now. Like I said, I love my two guys, I love our extended family who are able to visit us. We all have much more than many, many people in the world. We just have grown older, and the holidays that were, are no more, and will never be again... and this is why people have mid-life crisis... you never imagine the good times will end...

or to think, in a few years time, your Christmases may be even smaller.

2012 Losses and Blessings

I really don't want to write this entry. I really don't want to review this past year, because just a short glimpse back over my shoulder brings tears of both pain and gratitude, for there was loss and despair mixed with hope and blessings.

Therefore, I have decided --for your sake and mine-- to review the past year, month by month in a no-nonsense, one-to-two sentence manner. So here goes:

January: My family and I love living in our new home in Columbia, South Carolina, and we are thankful to God for such a blessing.

February: My PGAD worsens, so I have three MRI's that reveal nothing. I throw a party for Jeremy's 37th birthday in which we are surrounded by dear friends and family.

March: I have two unsuccessful nerve blocks. I try new medications, but my PGAD is unrelenting, so I set a date and make a plan to take my life.

April: My thirteen year old American Bulldog and constant companion, Sarah, dies the day before Easter. I do not sleep in my bed for a month, because I miss her sleeping beside me.

May: Jeremy gets me a new puppy, Hannah. I find a local, Christian doctor, Dr. Redmond, who specializes in Pudendal Nerve Damage and I am tested, but test is negative.

June: My friend Gretchen tells me she is going to kill herself because of her PGAD. I contact many doctors on her behalf, but none help.

July: Dr. Redmond and I begin to discuss possible Myobloc (Botox) injections for PGAD.

August: I start a fundraiser for Gretchen to get her medical help. I quit smoking cigarettes every day... only now and then do I have an occasional one or three.

September: My son turns 17 (!!!) then I turn 39, so my dear friends take me out to dinner to celebrate just a few days before I have Myobloc injections. I quit eating gluten, artificial sweeteners, dairy, and start seeing a wonderful, female Christian counselor.               

October: By the month's end, the Myobloc is helping to reduce PGAD symptoms and urgency, so I start to have hope again. I join a wonderful bible study with my dear friends.

November: We (Jeremy, Jonah, Chris, Chopper, Hannah and I) go on a family vacation to Asheville and have a truly blessed and wonderful time, despite the black bear. I start planning a Hobbit Holiday Celebration for next month.

December: On the 1st of the month, my friend Gretchen commits suicide right after her interview about PGAD appears in the Tampa Bay Times. On the 15th we have the Hobbit Holiday Celebration with our beloved family (my seester and nephew) and friends, and then we have a lovely Christmas day --just Jeremy, Jonah and I.


There is actually more to come this month, as later today Jeremy's family will be arriving to spend a few days with us and welcome in the new year.

Ooooh, the New Year! 2013. I will not do the stupid thing, as I have done before and say, "This new year will be better than last!" No. I don't expect it to be. I actually expect more good and bad events to occur, but in what proportions, I fear to guess.

I do know, in the new year, I will continue to love God, see His work and love in my family's and my life. I also know I will continue to have times that I yell at Him, ignore Him and will be utterly confused by Him.

My only prayer for this coming year is that I will be more open to inviting Him into each and every facet of my life, whether joyful or painful, and that I will grow in the knowledge of His love for me. I pray the same may be for you.