Gratitude

It snowed last night. Large lacy flakes whose whiteness reflected through my window, casting dim light in my bedroom. I sat and watched, slightly envious of Darrin's blissful sleep.

When I finally slept myself, my dreams were odd, uncomfortable, sad...AtP met with an accident while on vacation and died...Sully and DJ started a business together selling pies...Tabitha was driving...Darrin grew four feet and kept lifting me up and perching me on his shoulder...I picked up Tolkien Boy from the airport--he allowed me to carry his luggage, sat in the back seat while I drove him home, paid me for my mileage and added a nice tip--but didn't talk to me the entire time...I was outside jumping on the trampoline as it snowed...

Darrin kept waking me up. I was talking, laughing, crying...I finally gave up. Sleep can wait until tomorrow.

I realized this morning that in spite of feeling angry and spiteful, there is much of me that is grateful for things that have happened, and realizations I can't deny even if I want to. I have spent much time talking to the Lord in the past two years. He has never stopped blessing me, even when I didn't deserve it. And so today I will be thankful the following prayers were answered:
1. I told Heavenly Father, one day, that I didn't feel that anyone except Darrin could ever know about me and love me anyway. And so He sent me Sully. I didn't share myself willingly, but it seemed that each experience and opportunity revealed more about me. Bit by bit, Sully learned who I was. And he loved me in spite of me. I believe he still loves me today. Being loved by Sully is an amazing blessing for which I will aways be grateful.
2. I told Heavenly Father that I felt no one could really understand the illogical need I have to draw near to people--only to feel compelled to run away again. I didn't believe anyone could know how it feels to want to weep, but be unable to let the tears come. I didn't think anyone could have a similar sense of humor...so He sent me AtP. Time and time again, AtP has shown me understanding and empathy when I am at my worst. He allows me time to regroup when I feel devastated inside. He laughs at my stupidest jokes. He knows when I feel stressed. I think he gets aggravated with me more often than not...but I believe he still loves me. Being loved by AtP is an amazing blessing for which I will always be grateful.
3. I told Heavenly Father that there were many times when I felt I had no value. There were times when I felt I had fallen as low as I could fall, and I trusted no one enough to tell them about it. He sent me Jason. Jason was interested in me enough that he read pretty much everything I had posted online that he could find--and continues to do so today (and he has access to more than two of my blogs, so if you think this and my previous one are lengthy, imagine if you had access to even more...he's sort of amazing...). We communicated by email in the beginning, and more than once I received one of his sporadic communications exactly when I needed it most. Jason would always recount something he had read (usually something I felt reflected badly on me), and then tell me why he loved that particular part and how it made his love and respect for me increase. Today he still manages to say the thing that makes me feel valued...and I believe he still loves me. Being loved by Jason is an amazing blessing for which I will always be grateful.
4. Last year on my birthday--everyone forgot. Even Darrin, who never forgets. There was something about that day--everyone was busy, it was a busy time of year, whatever. Normally this is bothersome but expected. Last year it ached horribly. I fell to my knees and said, "Heavenly Father, I'm sad. And right now, I'm horribly lonely. Isn't there someone who has time to listen to me? Someone who doesn't have to be busy? Someone who can let me say the things inside without being destroyed by them? Someone who wants to spend time with me?" The next day He sent me Tolkien Boy, and TB listened like no one I'd ever met before. He wanted to hear everything--even the horrible stuff. He wanted to talk to me. He spent enormous amounts of time with me. I had (still have) difficulty understanding why he loves me. I had (still have) difficulty dealing with the emotional intimacy our close friendship creates. I had (still have) problems knowing when he was teasing or being serious, and sometimes I was (still am) hurt by things I believed he said with sarcasm when that was not the case. Last week I asked him if he loved me--the me inside--the real me--just because I'm alive, not on the basis of what I think or do. He said he did and I believed him. I still believe him today. Being loved by Tolkien Boy is an amazing blessing for which I will always be grateful.

In every instance during the past two years, when I have told Heavenly Father the things I felt I needed, He sent me a person. It may have been you. I have named the people above because they have been in regular contact with me and still continue to be very close friends today. But I am very aware of those who call or chat or comment sporadically--just checking in to make sure I'm still okay. And I believe you love me. Being loved by others, whether I've met them in person or not, is an amazing blessing for which I will always be grateful.

And so, today I offer gratitude to each person who has shown concern and love to me as I've walked a rather daunting path. And I am especially grateful for a loving Father in Heaven who knows that more than anything else, I need to learn to establish friendships, accept love, and learn that I cannot make my way alone anymore. I know He loves me. Being loved by my creator is an amazing blessing for which I will always be grateful.

November 20, 2007

I have spent the past couple of months feeling angry and hopeless. It's difficult for me not to think of all the time I've spent in therapy the past couple of years as failure. I find myself feeling more fragile today than I did before I began. My studio was cut by 75% to make time for the emotional crap I worked through. I quit a job I enjoyed because I couldn't concentrate as necessary to complete the projects. I stopped all guest lecturing this year. I am no longer teaching seminary.

I look at what I've learned and I'm certain that it was probably necessary, but I still hate it:
1. I was raped by a person I trusted--more than once. I always knew that. Now I talk about it.
2. I have PTSD. This makes me very angry. I don't want it.
3. My mother confirmed to me that, though she loved me, she didn't want me. She still feels no connection to me as my mother, nor does she want that. Instead I have her respect for me as a person, and admiration for all that I've accomplished. Funny, I'm still left feeling that there is something wrong with me, when in truth, she was the one who could not fill the role she should have. She is the one who could not nurture me. I was a child. But part of me wants this to be my fault because then I could try to fix it. It can't be fixed. I've tried for much of my life to build a mother/daughter relationship. She has let me know this will never happen. I'm a little surprised at how deeply that hurts. And as I watch her interact with my siblings, still caring for them as
adults, still nurturing and loving them, the ache seems to swallow me up, and I despise myself because I am weak--because it matters to me.
4. My relationship maturity equals that of a 12-year-old. I want rules. I have difficulty trusting. I don't believe in forever. Therapist helped me understand my emotional age--he hasn't told me how to grow beyond that. Perhaps that's not an option. How hellishly horrible to be stuck in emotional adolescence for the rest of my life. No wonder I hide from people, or conceal the person I really am behind the mask of a charming adult caricature.
5. Facing reality sucks. Accepting it is worse. And now that I've done all the dirty work I get to live the rest of my life knowing that no matter how magic I thought I was, I couldn't change any of it.

I guess all this means is that I'm still angry. And I hate it.

Lights, please

A couple of nights ago I woke myself up by running into the corner of a doorway. It made an incredibly loud noise and was followed by lots of blood coming from a 2-inch vertical cut above my left eyebrow. Darrin thought Adam, who sleeps in the room above us, had fallen out of bed. He suggested that next time I'm up, I turn on the lights. Good idea.

I walk in my sleep. It's something I've done throughout adolescence and into my early twenties. Lately it's become a fairly unusual occurrence, though. I usually do something which would cause endless delight for AtP's funny bone (like rearranging furniture or "reading" on the lawn when it's pitch black outside), but I've never injured myself before.

I went into the bathroom and pulled the edges of the cut apart, determined that it probably should be stitched, pushed the edges back together, cleaned the cut, put on a bandage and went back to bed. No way was I going to the emergency room and try to explain how I ran into a doorway hard enough to split my head open, in my sleep.

Today I have a thin red line where the cut was, surrounded by a faint pink skin irritation because I'm allergic to bandage adhesive. No doubt I'll have a lovely scar there.

It's okay. Women my age never have to worry about looking good.

Preaching the Gospel

Recently I had a disagreement with a Brother about a comment he'd made in church. The comment went something like this:

Once you gain a testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel, you will feel compelled to shout it from the rooftops and to do all you can to save your fellowman. You will reject all other ideas and beliefs that are partial truths and cling only to the gospel and its teachings. Anything else does not constitute a testimony.

I have issues with people who speak in absolutes. I have issues with those who tell me what is and isn't a testimony. I have issues with people who tell me what I must believe and do. I have issues...

My disagreement went something like this (in list form, because that is the only true way, of course):
1. A testimony of the gospel is deeply personal and takes many forms.
2. As every person has a different personality and experiential background, some may not "feel compelled to shout it from the rooftops," especially those who have acrophobia.
3. Rejection of partial truths and beliefs, especially if those have led one to complete truths and beliefs, is not only foolhardy, but exhausting. And who is to arbitrarily decide which truth is partial and which is whole? It seems there would be better uses of one's time.
4. If one sincerely believes the gospel is true, it makes sense to cling to its teachings. The problem arises in distinguishing between statements made by fallible human beings and actual revelations from God. And it's also a fact that what resonates as truth with one person might not be the same for another and there are some who have difficulty distinguishing between inspiration and sentiment--proof of this is that some people still feel moved by portions of Especially for Mormons or Chicken Soup for the Soul.
5. At what point does "...all you can to save your fellowman..." constitute intolerance or force? I feel very strongly that "saving" means less preaching and more accepting and loving. I know I have been "saved" so many times in my life by a loving hand, lifting me when I was at my worst. I've been "saved" by conversations which never mentioned my unhealthy behaviors or weaknesses. I've been "saved" by grace, not by those who would have me conform my life to theirs. And in the end, I will be the one who chooses, not the one who is living his/her life to be my "example," nor the one who makes clear that I'm a sinner, or that I don't have the real truth. And my choice will be based on my experiences, knowledge, logic, and love. So please, if you want to know me, that's one thing, but don't try to "save" me. My understanding is that that's Christ's job.
6. Don't EVER tell me what my testimony is or is not.

The ensuing discussion became ugly as the audience took sides. My side "won", of course, because we didn't resort to the emotional tactics used by the other side (you know--I'm a woman so how can I possibly have a valid thought...people like me lead others astray by encouraging them to think rather than follow in faith...testimony isn't about logic, it's about feeling...), but I was left feeling a little embarrassed that I'd caused a ruckus in Sunday School. Just for the record, after stating my points, I didn't enter into the discussion again. I left. I know...cowardly, but they were so emotional...

Later, when I arrived at my Young Women's classroom, I found about six Brothers and Sisters (not Young Women) waiting for me. They wanted to stay. They'd heard from their daughters that we have fun lessons and treats. Since they were parents, I couldn't really ask them to leave. The Bishop joined us as well. As luck would have it, it was a lesson dealing with chastity (imagine that! in Young Women!) and I quickly rethought my planned frank discussion in light of the parental attendance. I decided that they just as well see me at my best, so we talked about sex/marriage/hormones/honesty/chastity/safe boundaries/good emotional health just as I'd planned. I found out later that one couple in attendance (they have six children) has a rather unhealthy sex life as the sister hates being touched by her husband--sad.

So today I'm supposed to teach a lesson that combines two from the book. They're not necessarily spiritual topics: Participating in the Cultural Arts, and Financial Responsibility. Naturally I'm already annoyed that we're not discussing something more blatantly related to Christ. However, I'm also quite certain that before we're through, I'll have twisted everything around so that we're somehow talking about Him. It's tricky, but I'll manage it. I'll probably have to incorporate some ideas and beliefs outside the mormnorm...and I'm feeling a bit spiteful, because I'm wishing that my contentious brother would come...not because I want him to help with the lesson...but just because I'm feeling the need to argue with someone today...

What is real?

Jason and I like to talk. Sometimes we talk for extended periods of time (um...more than an hour) and I feel guilty because I think that's time he should be spending with his family whom I adore. But the thing about it is that when we finally stop talking and I reflect on what we've said (this is when the chat venue is very handy, because I can look back at our log), or on feelings I've experienced (this is when phone conversations are invaluable, because nothing can replace the spontaneity of the human voice or laughter), I learn something. Every time.

When Jason and I met for the first time, I was overwhelmed because not only was I meeting someone for whom I'd developed a great love and trust, but he was sharing with me something he prized about all else--his family. I met those amazing people and felt it an incredible privilege, and then became aware that in spite of a year of getting to know Jason virtually, learning who he was in person was a completely different experience and one that left me feeling as if we both had taken a few steps away from each other so that we could make room for the newness and necessity of becoming familiar with the "real" person. We had the luxury of spending a lot of time together, and by the time our families said good-bye, I felt that the online familiarity was in place once again, enhanced by the reality of an actual meeting. It was for me, a lovely experience.

I realized later that a similar thing had happened when I met AtP, Tolkien Boy, and a few other online friends in person. I'm not sure why it seemed so much more apparent when I met Jason--perhaps because we had been online friends for a longer period of time before we were finally able to meet in person. As I've thought about those experiences, I've come to understand that one can never fully know a person in a virtual setting. There's something about being together physically that lends a depth to any relationship that cannot be attained in any other way.

When I'm actually in the presence of those I love, I'm communicating like crazy--and not necessarily with words. AtP and I can say nothing, but burst into laughter about some hilarious secret we both inherently understand. Last time we were together he asked, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "No," I answered obstinately, and then we continued the conversation because I was thinking the same thing and he knew it. Once when Tolkien Boy and I were together, I was feeling a depth of love and gratitude for him that was unusual and overwhelming. He understood that something was deeply affecting me. He said nothing, but allowed me to have those feelings without embarrassment or awkwardness. There was something profound in having such respect shown for my emotions. And during my "actual" visit with Jason, in spite of being distracted by an adorable toddler who got into one scrape after another, I found myself learning more about the different levels of who he was aided by my prior virtual knowledge. I went away with a three dimensional appreciation of a friend I already knew and loved.

The opportunity to develop close friendships online and at some point, seal them with physical proximity seems like a win/win situation. Given my problematic background, it's not. While I'm continually amazed that I've been blessed with such patient and loving friends, there is a large part of me that also feels incredible stress that there are people who care about and are interested in me. That stress has been steadily increasing since last May.

I can't elucidate exactly why the stress is present. Therapist has gone through a long complicated explanation about it more than once. I try to listen, but it's difficult not to feel that he's listing my deficits and that I should have done something to make myself more "normal." Things I remember:
1. If, as an infant and child, my physical and emotional needs were left unmet by the caregivers (especially my mother) in my life, I have no inherent understanding as an adult of how to allow others to meet my needs in any relationship. Naturally, my marriage is an exception because after a million years, you kind of figure things out--thank goodness, Darrin says.
2. Because those needs weren't met in my past, I don't trust others, or even want others to do so now. This is a misleading statement because instinctively I want my loved ones to fill my needs, but intellectually, I see myself as having no needs at all. To acknowledge that I can't take care of everything myself indicates weakness.
3. I have grown up with the belief that people love what I do, not who I am. For once, my friendships are challenging my beliefs. That's stressful.
4. I have complicated processes that allow me to have people feel close to me without actually trespassing into the vulnerable parts of me. Jason and I discussed how people often have very close friendships, but don't enjoy frequent contact with each other. But when they come together after extended periods of time, they take up where they left off, feel no distance in their emotional connections, and just enjoy the intimate time together. I have similar friends, but I enjoy being with them because they allow me to retreat behind the persona I've created--the one who listens to their life stories and reminisces about past memories, but adroitly dodges personal questions that might allow intimacy in our friendships. I feel very comfortable and safe in such a setting. But both Jason and Tolkien Boy agree that's probably not a healthy friendship. Under Therapist's dictatorial guidance, I have identified most of the tactics I use to imitate close friendships without actually being a part of that relationship.

There's more--always, but that's enough for now. But in our last conversation, Jason mentioned something that rang true to me. It seemed to help me understand on a different level why I feel stress and fear in friendships that are filled with love and security.

me: I thought I could figure things out. I though I'd understand how to let people come and go the way other people do. But I don't seem to be able to get it.

Jason: So, what do you find to be the area of most tension, then? Because you seem to be okay with friends that you don't see regularly (and some of my closest and dearest friends are those)... is the area of most tension the time when regular contact turns into infrequent contact?

me: Well, that's the problem, I suppose. Those close, dear friends are extremely comfortable to me because they know nothing about me--and they really don't want to. They love that I listen (and so do I), and they are satisfied with short uninformative answers to their questions. And I've become adept at entertaining with a story which seems full of personal information but actually says nothing.

Jason: Okay, we're talking about something different than I thought then, because I definitely understand that. A one sided friendship, really. And some of my dear friends are a one-sided friendship, completely.

me: Yes. But it's such a relief to be with them. They don't ask me questions that make me hurt inside.

Jason: Ah. Yeah, friendships like that are pretty stress free. More so, I'd imagine, for you. It's like you can just play up the caricature they see you as, entertain them, have good laughs, and then move on. I always feel that they know just this piece of who I am. A piece that they find entertaining.

me: And I don't really miss them. I'm glad to see them, but separating is okay.

Jason: Yeah, exactly.

me: Then I have The New Friends (people I've met in the past 2 years). Each one seems to have filled a role in which they've helped me over a hurdle of some sort. They know who I am. They love me. And being with them makes me feel incredibly vulnerable, sometimes sad. And yet I feel tied to them. I miss them. I just don't understand this.

Jason: It sounds like the friendships of the last two years are some of the more real friendships you've had--ones where you actually care if they love you--where it's not a take it or leave it arrangement. I'm imagining that's where the vulnerability comes in. To allow yourself to really connect with someone leaves one very vulnerable. And the phenomenon of being sad when you're with them is probably the knowledge that such a satisfying, real contact will have to come to an end. And not just sadness that the friendship will end, necessarily. Sadness that you have to say goodbye in that very instant, kind of, sometimes. But with a knowledge that it's not the end of anything, necessarily. Is that getting there at all?

me: Yes, definitely. I also think part of it, maybe, is that for once in my life (and this is pathetic) I feel valued because I'm me, I'm real, and it doesn't really matter what I do, these friends will love me. That's a new thing for me.

Jason: Oh absolutely. And what a terrifying thing to think that that might go away.

me: Yeah.

The M.U.N.S.A. test

Have you an unusual Intelligence? Do you find you lose interest in supposedly "Interesting movies"? It could be that you're one of the 5% of the population that has the mental capacity of shag carpet! If so, you may want to join MUNSA - Mentally Unemployed and Noticeably Stupid Association.

Try the questionnaire below. The results could surprise you! If you can't even read the question, you're halfway there already - just get someone to fill out our full color brochure at any trailing chemist, and you'll be in for some, good old fashioned non-challenging material.

1. Which of the following WAS one of the famous Marx Brothers?

a. STRETCH
b. SKID
c. HARPO
d. TYRE

2. The number missing from the series (1,2,4,..,16) is:

a. YELLOW
b. GERANIUM
c. 8
d. TYRE

3. The letter missing from the series (a,b,c,..,e) is:

a. z
b. b
c. d
d. TYRE

4. A man walks into a Barber Shop, with $5.00. He buys 2 lemons at 45c each, 1 Pickled Eel for $2.40, 4 packets of washing powder for $3.15 each. What will happen?

a. The Barber will wonder where all the stuffs coming from
b. He wasn't in a Barber's shop, it was a Dairy
c. The Barber will ask him if he's from MUNSA
d. Tyre

5. Two trains leave the same station, but moving in opposite directions. The first train is travelling at 50km/hr EAST, while the second one is travelling 50km/hr WEST. Which train is travelling the fastest?

a. The one going EAST
b. The one going WEST
c. Neither
d. Tyre
e. Why aren't there (e.)'s in all the other questions

6. What comes next in the series (RED, GREEN)

a. A car
b. Orange
c. Insufficient Data
d. Tyre

7. Mona Lisa was:

a. A dissatisfied Woman
b. A Song by Billy Idol
c. A painting
d. Tyre

8. The cold war was about:

a. Ice
b. Autumn
c. A few people at the top not liking each other
d. Tyre

9. Complete the following Sequence: (Tyre Tyre Tyre)

a. Tyre
b. Tyre
c. Tyre
d. Pardon?

Ok, time to total up all your marks. Those of you who haven't mastered addition yet, go straight on to the application; you're the sort of person we're looking for. If not, Give yourself 5 points for every D, -5 for every C, (+10 if you can't add negative numbers yet), 0 for every B and 0 for every A you ticked. How did you do?

90 to 50: OK! You're the sort of person we're looking for. Add 10 points to your score if you haven't got the hang of using anything but crayons yet.

50 to -20: Who's been doing late night studying then? Sorry, you're just a run of the mill pleb - push off.

-20 to -90: A computer geek I bet. Go join some place where they talk big numbers and floppy disks!

Is 85 between 90 and 50? Alright! Go to the bottom of the class! You're a leading light in our Association; get someone to fill the form in for you and welcome aboard!

What will MUNSA do for you?

MUNSA is a group of people just like yourself, and as such will have much the same interests. We'll meet once a month to watch American Game Shows (Except for our "advanced" class which will be watching the Australian Imitations), Television Dating Games, and listening to Public readings of Romance Novels. Also at the meetings, you'll have the opportunity to buy:

* Swamp land at ridiculously inflated prices

* Genuine Japanese imports with UNTAMPERED ODOMETERS (with scratches on it)

* Slice/Dice/Mince/Stack shelf-mount food mungers from C-Tel

* "Safe" relocatable houses from Chernobyl and many many more things, as yet not exploited.

As a special initial offer, you will be given a free Brain Warning device which rings an alarm if your IQ gets above 25, in time for you to go back to your local pub for a couple of jugs of your favorite Weasels.

Moving on

The wind woke me this morning with gusts of around 40 miles per hour. I'm still awake because I'm worried about Tabitha and Adam doing their paper route in the windstorm. Tabitha (all seventy pounds of her) assured me that it was a hard wind, but not a cold one, and they'd be fine. I'm waiting for them to come home, hoping that she's right.

I had thought that I'd work on a few things to help my PTSD symptoms over the next few weeks. I realized as I tried to do so that I'm not ready and I may never become ready. I have been successful in learning to reroute my nightmares and as I do so flashbacks also seem to decrease. Occasionally I find myself in a situation that triggers a flashback, but if the situation is not unexpected (like my dentist appointment) I can prepare prior to the visit, which seems to be helpful. I am still lamentably unable to deal with close relationships. I vacillate between wanting to maintain them, knowing they are good for me, responding to the healthy intimacy I find there, and feeling stressed at having people close to me, being unable to interpret tacit inferences that others seem to take for granted, fear that I will lose what I have, desire for everyone to go away.

It is that last aspect of PTSD (which sort of boils down to trust issues) that I thought I would work on. Darrin and I discussed the things I do to keep people at a distance. Darrin says that anyone who doesn't know me well would not notice that these things are happening. Since I, myself, don't even notice most of the time that I'm using these devices, he suggested we make a list:
1. I talk about myself enough to satisfy curiosity, but draw the line at discussing deep feelings or important experiences/ideas. Darrin suggests that in the friendships where I've allowed myself to talk about things that affect me deeply, I am insecure and stressed.
2. I ask questions about the friend, but only to the point where I feel that I understand enough to carry on a conversation. Questions that would allow me to understand his/her roots and background are avoided as are any questions that might have answers that will encourage me to feel tied to that person somehow (childhood/family anecdotes, ideology, personal likes/dislikes, past emotional experiences). Basically, the more I know about a person, the more I care about them. Limiting my knowledge allows me to distance myself at any given opportunity.
3. I take time off. Darrin says I tell my friends that I've very busy (and, indeed, I make certain that I am) so that I can have time to tone down any of my own feelings toward them that have become acute. He believes that I love people intensely, but as long as that intensity is not returned, I feel safe in that level of feeling. As soon as someone begins to care about me in a personal way, I suddenly become very busy and less available.
4. I block friends/family from knowing my personal likes/dislikes and rely on stereotypical things to satisfy their curiosity. For example, on my birthday Darrin asks me what he can give me and I always say, "I'd love some flowers and an evening out with you." This is a truthful statement, but he points out that he and my kids have no idea, other than flowers, what I like. I block even them.

I made a list of people with whom I wanted to maintain an authentic friendship. I made a list of things I thought might make the friendship more genuine on my part. I attempted to carry through with the items on that list. I forgot a couple of things, though. First, sometimes people are comfortable with the status quo. They don't need our friendship to deepen and they're okay if I hide behind my walls. I asked a few well-placed questions and realized that what might be helpful to me, would not necessarily be helpful to them. Second, I can't really work on this because I still firmly believe that when my usefulness or entertainment allure has run its course, there will no longer be a reason to maintain any friendship. I'm not being mercenary about this. I've just realised that sometimes people run out of things to talk about, and regardless of how much they care for each other, when communication becomes strained caring begins to wane. This is not something I've instigated to distance myself from friends, it just happens. I think most everyone has experienced it in some form. As long as I accept that sooner or later all people will become tired of me, it seems pointless to try to strengthen any relationships. It requires incredible effort on my part for something that is destined for demise. In truth, I'm not ready to try. I'm becoming more certain that I never will be.

I was chatting with Tolkien Boy last night. I thought it might be a good time to try something from my friendship authentification (I know--not a word--don't care) list. Last week I mentioned that I might want to do that if it was okay with him. He said, of course. But last night I realized that this is all futile. I don't believe in what I'm doing. I don't want to do it. I don't believe that it's mutually beneficial. It's impossible to accomplish what I'm trying to do unless both parties desire a shift in the relationship--and just how am I supposed to know what my friends really want? I honestly believe that as long as they have access to me, however limited, that's all that's required. And this crap about human intimacy and close friendships is nothing more than someone's way of letting me know that there are things in life that I don't understand. And actually, I've decided I'm okay with that.

Therapist would tell me that I'm spending my life in a bubble I've created to keep me safe emotionally. While that may be true, I don't think anyone in my life is worried about that. People adapt to individual situations. I'm pretty open about my theories of human relationships. I rarely ask people to stay when they wish to go, or to give anything that he/she would not willingly give. I've only had one instance where a friend (Sheila) told me that she noticed I was always careful to keep distance between us. Since I came out to her, she's stopped complaining about that. Nice how life seems to balance everything out.

I suppose what I'm saying is this: I feel that I'm trying to change something that cannot be changed. There is no reason to fix what my friends perceive as whole. I'm not ready to deepen relationships, and probably never will be. It seems much more productive and helpful to simply fortify myself and prepare for the time when life claims my friends and I miss them.

Darrin would tell me I'm wrong--but it takes me about 20 years to believe the things he says.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

I will never accept that there is a "reason" I had the opportunity to endure my unique package of trauma. I will never believe that there was a "purpose" or that it was the only way in which I could "learn and grow". I don't believe that. I refuse to believe that I could not become a worthwhile human being without being raped or abused.

When I left Therapist after my last appointment, there was a huge sense of futility. I felt that I was trapped in a life engineered by someone else without my permission. It seemed that everything I had done to build myself in spite of past experiences was worthless. I thought about it for a few days. I realized that the feelings were distorted by distress and discouragement. I wanted to talk but had nothing to say.

Thursday I woke up feeling that maybe things were coming to a stop. I didn't feel like crying alone anymore--I still felt like crying, but for the first time I wanted to share everything that was making me sad. I couldn't, because saying the words was still too hard.

Yesterday I finally felt like me again. I've realized nothing profound. I've made no amazing discoveries. I didn't find hidden reserves of courage. I just waited long enough that I could live again.

I have thanked God every night for the past ten days for beautiful sunsets, fall flowers that last through the frost, music that uplifts, children who love me, a husband who cares even when he doesn't understand, friends that keep being my friends--even when I've forgotten what that means, loved ones who let me say what needs to be said (ugly or not), people who remember that I love roses (thank you--they're beautiful!), those who don't know me but lend encouragement when I need it the most, fresh air, Godiva chocolate cheesecake...

I haven't run for a week. I've been too tired. It's time to begin again. A friend suggested that I make a goal each day to eat more than one meal. I've met that goal for two days which isn't much, but is certainly a start.

In my thinking time I have come to many realizations about myself, and made some decisions about things I'd like to change. After all, I can't change my past, but I have complete control over how much I will allow it to influence me. I told Therapist that I would not live with PTSD for the rest of my life--that I would be rid of it, regardless of the prognosis. He said, "That really wouldn't surprise me. I expect you to keep a journal of the steps you take and I want to see it when you're finished." I don't know if that's a realistic goal--I don't particularly care, either.

There's so much that I wish I could talk to Therapist about. Sometimes I don't want to do things by myself. I'm going to wait, though. There are a few things I want to do before I meet with him. I don't know if I'll have the opportunity, since they involve other people, but I'm still going to try.

There is still a part of me that wishes things were different.

This makes me giggle

Credit where credit is due

I simply must thank Rude Visitor Marvin for his most recent comments. For, in spite of the fact that his command of the English language is lamentable and would make a third grader cringe, he has reminded me of something in which I am remiss...well, truthfully, it wasn't necessarily him, but the comments that preceded and followed his...

I MISSED MY COMMEMORATIVE MISTER FOB'S BIRTHDAY POST!!!!

I'm hoping he'll forgive me for being a bit preoccupied, and accept my belated tribute in spite of me. But if you get a chance, please head over to his blog to send felicitations (except for Marvin--I think you should stay here with me because I would miss you so much if you left).

In honor of our latest "scum sucking road whore (thanks for the help, AtP)", Rude Visitor Marvin (hereafter to be known as RVM, which should be easy enough to remember), I will alter my language to reflect his illiteracy, as I don't want him to feel left out.

It's alw--ys a slightly st--cky situation to admit that one is in love with someone else's h-sb-nd, so I'm hoping FoxyJ will f--give me for ad-ring her sp--se. H--ever, I'm sure that ev--yone will agree that to kn-- Mi---r F-b, is to l-ve h-m. So, in honor of his b----day, I have made a l-st of t-n thi-gs I lo-e ab--t M----r F--:

1. He th-nks I'm f--ny (and really, since I have such a need for his adulation, it's only fitting that the first one is all about MEEEE!), wh-ch means he has an imp--cable sense of h-mor.
2. He dr--ses up for H--low-en as a sup-r hero--and makes c--tain that his chi--ren fo--ow s--t (literally).
3. He's a r--l dad! He t-kes his t-rn with f--ding, cl--nup, and wa-ching TV. And he th--ks his chi--ren are ad-rable (they are), as any dad sh---d.
4. He m-kes me l--gh (again--all about me--adulation--you know...) bec--se he's fu--y. I d-n't say that a---t many p--ple.
5. He l-ts m- say wha- I w--t to on his bl-g. Gr-nted, I'm alw-ys courte-us, affirm--ive, and delightf-l, but really, wh-t else c-n one po--ibly exp--t from one as wicked adorable (thank you again, AtP) as Me?
6. He wr-tes beautif--ly.
7. He's hum-n a-d emp-th-t-c without be-ng m--dlin, and I have b--efited from h-s w-rds more t--n once.
8. He s--ms to live in a c-nsist-nt st-te of eudaemonia (so sorry, RVM, for the big words of more than three syllables, but really, stooping to your level can be so tedious).
9. He l-kes av-cados. And s- d- I.
10. He's f-n to pl-y with...and t-lk with...and be w-th...

I r--lly th-nk, one d-y, you --d I, Mister Fob, sh--ld play Scr-bble.

Thank you, FoxyJ, for allowing me to laud your husband. He really is one of a kind. I love you both and I am blessed to know you.

Oh, and Mister Fob--Happy Birthday!

P.S. Ben--If you want the highbrow version, let me know. I'll email it to you.

Marvin said...

you are full of crap.
you get off jerking people around. you incite people's emotions by sharing everything, then when they become solicitous, you cut them off.

Dear Marvin,

If you had the courage to allow access to your contact information instead of being rude and running away when you comment, I could send this to you privately which would be more appropriate. As it is, you leave me no choice.

Normally I don't address readers who feel the need to express pointless negativity, but you give me the opportunity to reinforce some key points which anyone who visits my blog should probably know:
1. Nothing is ever solved through a personal attack. It won't change the situation you find annoying, nor will it make you feel better. It just makes you look like an ass--especially if the person you attack is currently undergoing emotional stress. By the way, thanks so much for kicking me when I was down. Good thing I got used to learning to live with that as a child.
2. I cannot keep you from visiting my blog without closing it to the public. The whole point of this blog was to allow me to access the public in a safe non-threatening way. For the most part, my commenters have been supportive and courteous. If you cannot find a way to be courteous, as well, I would really appreciate it if you'd not comment at all. There is no excuse for rudeness. Use the brain God gave you and find a better way to express yourself.
3. THIS IS MY BLOG!!! Which means that even if what you have said about me is true, it is my right to do so on my blog and if you don't like it, you are invited to leave--and it's okay if you don't want to come back.

I wish you well as you endeavor to figure out how to use human kindness. Should you master the art, I invite you to let me know.

Sincerely,

Sam

I needed some time to think. And now it's time to talk again.

Talking

There comes a time when it is a good idea to stop talking.

Two Things

Whenever I sit in a chair, Tabitha thinks she needs to join me. She's still pretty tiny, so we fit, but I think I need to get this:

Chair and Half

I didn't even know such furniture existed.

This is not funny--not in any way. I know this. And someone with my background should have the decency to be empathetic to the poor nurse involved. But really--91-years-old? In a nursing home? You almost have to wonder if the guy could still stand at attention at his age...okay, you don't, but I do. And to pretend to be deaf at his own hearing...that's pretty funny. There aren't many other perks to claim at that age. And I know it's not funny...I'm so warped...it still makes me giggle.

All Hail to the Google-ad Gods

I would just like to know why my last email exchange with AtP triggered this ad:

BountifulBras.com - Bras For Men Info. - Easy Access Guide.

The topic we were discussing had nothing to do with that--although I'm certain that, given enough time to come up with something, we could have a scintillating conversation about it. I'm not sure why we would...

Eavesdropping on DJ and Adam

Yesterday:

Adam: Tabitha is going to "New Beginnings" tonight. What's "New Beginnings?"
DJ: It's sort of like stake priesthood meeting, but with cheesecake.
Adam: How come we don't get cheesecake?
DJ (snorting): 'Cause dudes don't make cheesecake.
Adam: You do. You make really good cheesecake.
DJ: Yeah...but no one ever asks me to make refreshments.
Adam: What refreshments? We don't get anything at stake priesthood meeting.
DJ: It's not fair.
Adam: Nope.

In a Dark Time Theodore Roethke

In a Dark Time
Theodore Roethke

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

It's not what you hear, it's what you think you hear

Setting: 6:30 a.m.; Darrin and Samantha are sitting in their family room having five minutes of quality conversation because it seems like this is the only together time they ever have anymore.

Darrin: What was that sound?

They listen intently to an odd sound coming from outside the house.

Samantha: Sounds like someone on a pogo stick.

Darrin looks at her as if she's insane.

Samantha (defensively): What! It does!

Darrin listens for a few more seconds.

Darrin: Oh! It's DJ scraping ice off the car window.
Samantha: I liked my answer much better.
Darrin: Me, too.

Sin

When my dad and I were on our way to our seminar (ah, the joys of continuing education which allows us to keep our RIA status...) yesterday, he asked me my opinion about sin and the atonement. I asked why he wanted to know, and he mentioned that he'd had a person in his office recently who had discussed this with me, and he was interested to hear more. I told him it was nothing new, and I probably heard it from him in the first place. He said he was pretty sure it didn't come from him and asked me to tell him what I had told my friend.

So this is the Samantha Stevens Theory of Sin and the Atonement. It is not doctrine. This is my opinion. I love to use bold!!

My belief is that everything that happens in this life is, or can become, an avenue to draw us closer to God and Christ. Sin is no exception. Obviously we're going to sin. That's part of being human, and no amount of "trying" will change that. However, each time we sin we face a decision--what we will do next. For years my understanding was that when we sin, we become vile, filthy, horrible people and God wants nothing to do with us until we say we're sorry and promise never to do it again (which is sometimes ridiculous, because there's a chance we'll mess up numerous times before we finally get it right). This belief does not make me inclined to repent, but rather, to give up. There's also the belief that if you sin you should "just stop" sinning. I don't think that happens very often.

The more serious sins generally come about because we lack discipline or control over our impulses, and this is often because we aren't receiving what we need to help us feel able to regulate our desires. Sometimes we commit sin because we're reacting to feelings of worthlessness or because we've experienced deep hurt. Regardless of the reason, however, few people who are striving to keep God's commandments wake up one morning, stretch, and say, "Wow, I think I'll go fornicate today!"

If God knows us, he knows our hearts. He knows that even when we fall in horrifying ways, there are parts of us that still yearn to be the sons and daughters he has asked us to be. He also knows that just "stopping" isn't going to happen, which is why sometimes members of the clergy and therapists need to be consulted. Confession isn't instituted for the purpose of humiliation, it's to help us understand that we can't do everything on our own, and to show our Heavenly Father that we'll accept his will and help in our lives.

The judgmental view of sinners as unclean and vile is dangerous because it implies a belief that some of God's children are better than others--which is not true. And the scripture that says, "...confess and forsake..." aggravates me. It's just not that easy. However, Isaiah makes everything so much clearer when he says, "Come. Let us reason together..." God doesn't say, "Hey, Idiot! Stop being stupid and do what I tell you to do!" He says, "Come..." Come to me...I love you...I want you to be with me, and I with you...you're always welcome... "Let us reason together..." I love to talk with you...I want to hear what you have to say, and to remind you of my love for you...nothing you do can change that love...let's see what we can do together to help you feel better, to help you make healthy changes..."And "...though your sins be as scarlet..." your sins...not you... "...they shall be white as snow..." shall be... not "might be"...shall...for certain...because Christ made it possible for that to happen...because he loves us...and he wants to be with us, as well...

And so each time we sin, we're given the opportunity to make a decision. Believe the sin makes us irredeemable and continue to walk away from the commandments and beliefs that say our behavior is not in line with what God intends for us, or believe that through Christ's atonement we can use that sinful occasion to try his words, to see if he really does love and want us. And if we choose the second option, we'll have many opportunities to see if what he's said is true, because as much as we might try to avoid it, we will continue, in our human states, to sin daily, which will give us the chance to go to our Father and say, "Remind me? Reason with me? Help me become stronger? Forgive me? I want to be with you, too..." And each time we repeat the cycle we become better at overcoming the weaknesses that beset us, and we develop a beautiful, loving relationship with our creator.

When I view sin in this way, I no longer worry about a God who cannot view sin with "the least degree of allowance," because he's offered to help me get rid of it. He doesn't have to accept our sins because if we "reason" with him, and take the necessary steps, our sin goes away and he promises to "remember it no more." What a great friend. Of course, with his perfect memory he'll know all that we've done, but because he loves us and respects us, he won't ever mention it again--it will be as if the sin never happened. He will do nothing to impede our progress, and everything to encourage it.

So there you have it--simple and uncomplicated. And you can argue with me, and tell me that I'm wrong, but you need to know that I probably won't listen. This is what I believe. And since this is my blog, I can think of no better place to express that.

Religion Rant

I do this occasionally. I believe, at my age, I'm entitled. Besides, tonight is date night, and Darrin's too tired to do anything except watch a stupid baseball game (sorry baseball fans, but I get a little testy when I have to share my husband with a sport).

I have sent my angry comment to the Ensign. I was going to blog about my aggravation earlier, but Original Mohomie beat me to it. In a nutshell, Elder Holland said some good things in his article, some of which could open doors to understanding, or at least dialogue among the general church membership about SGA . The editors closed those doors when they chose to post a picture of Adam and Eve, captioned with a quote about marriage and family, and the garden analogy, which basically states that if we choose good things we won't be gay anymore (okay, I know that's not exactly what it says, but bear with me, I'm a little upset).

This is what I said in my comment:
1. Most of the church membership will look at the title, "Helping Those Who Struggle with Same-Gender Attraction (I have issues with the title, as well--I would prefer, "Loving and Accepting Those who Experience Same-Gender Attraction")," and say to themselves, "I don't know anyone like that. This doesn't apply to me." And then they won't read the article.
2. They will, however, look at the captions. The first caption (Adam's family) sends the message that gay people should just get married and have families. No mention is made of Holland's further comment that marriage is not an "all-purpose solution." The second caption solidifies the notion that one must simply seek God and SGA will be cured (exact words: "gain control over our inclinations."). While making our lives a place where the Spirit can freely dwell certainly helps, some of us have felt SGA feelings even while sitting in the temple--not because we're unworthy or because we haven't tried to be spiritual, but simply because we're human and those things happen. And really, the title of the article centers on how church members can be of help to those with SGA--not on what people with SGA should do.
3. End result, the skimmer who doesn't take the time to read the article (I'm guessing 90% of readers), looks at the captions, and decides that those unknown gay people need to get married and be spiritual and then they can decide not to be gay--which is the destructive lie that many people in the church put forth whenever they're confronted with the possibility that "gay" might actually exist. Thank you, Ensign person, for circumventing a possible chance to teach truth. We'll all just keep hiding in our closets, thanks to you. It keeps people from burning metaphorical crosses in our front yards.

Okay, I'm done. Don't be surprised if you never see my comment published, but I hope someone besides me (and OM) is bothered by the problem, and that the Ensign hears from everyone who takes issue with this. However, if I'm the only one who ends up shooting my mouth off, I suppose that's okay, too. No one ever listens, really, but it makes me feel better.

P.S. Darrin decided to use the article as this home teaching message this month. He said most of his families were a little shocked and didn't say much, but he didn't care. He felt they needed to hear the message of the article. Just one more reason I love my husband!

You do your job--I'll do mine

There are times when I'm not "nice."

Today when I arrived at one of my accompanying jobs, a substitute was there. With a sigh of relief, she handed me the lesson plan that had been left her by the choir director and said, "I'm sure you'll understand what she wants." It was true. I did understand. I also understand that she's not getting paid for me to do her job. I smiled at her, handed the lesson plan back and said, "I'm sorry, but I just accompany. I'm certain I wouldn't know where to begin."

I know. I could have taken over. But honestly, if you don't want to substitute teach, for heaven's sake, don't apply for the job! And I don't like it when people assume I'll bail them out--which is why I probably don't.

There is no point to this.

I went to see cousin David's parents yesterday. It's an interesting sensation to visit with the parents of the young man who molested me.

I love Therapist, but he wants me to do really hard things.

I had a wonderful Sunday.

I'm tired today.

For all the Math Geniuses--and the people who love them

Pecking order

I took a job at a secondary school as a team music director for the choirs. I did so because the person who teaches music at the school is a former classmate from college and her choirs are always exceptional. I love working with her. My duties include accompanying and training within sectionals. About once weekly I rehearse a different section, helping the young singers find their notes and learn the parts. It's actually a lot of fun.

For the last couple of weeks I've been working with the soprano, second soprano, and alto sections. Today I worked with tenors/baritones/basses. The boys are 12-15 years old. I find groups of boys interesting. There always seems to be one who is the loudest, who tries to instruct the others, who seems most visible. I call him the rooster. He has his staunch followers/admirers who do everything he asks. In the case of the choir groups, he generally is a soloist, is secure singing in any setting, and really loves choir--but not so much that he loses the respect of his choirmates. And he's usually cute.

Then there are the capons (I know this is a rather disturbing term, but bear with me). These are the young men who strut and talk, but no one seems to be listening. They usually have one or two followers who are shorter and seem to live lives of hero worship. They laugh often and loudly at anything their capon leader says, who, however can't quite measure up to the rooster.

Finally, there are those who strive for invisibility, who wander around, oblivious of their surroundings, more entertained by what is going on in their own heads. They take no notice of the roosters, capons, or groupies, but huddle by themselves, hoping to escape notice.

Today, when we did sectionals I found myself surrounded by the invisible group. For whatever reason, they seemed very happy to stand as close to me as possible. I think it was my perfume (one of them actually said, "Hey! You smell good."). The rooster began crowing, but settled down as I reminded him that I was capable of directing without his help. The capons made jokes in undertones and their groupies stifled giggles.

I had been warned that this particular group of boys was a bit unruly. I'm okay with that. I'm fairly used to unruly boys. I mentioned to the capons that unless they wished to be separated from their groupies, they'd need to actually sing. I asked the invisible participants to step back a couple of feet. I allowed the rooster to organize his followers as he saw fit.

Then they sang--beautifully. There were no disturbances or mishaps, and the rooster told me he loved my voice. The capons hushed their groupies and told them to pay attention. The invisible group stepped away from me each time I reminded them. We sang and laughed and learned the part.

When it was time to go one of the invisible group who had become glued to my side said quietly, "Samantha (they are allowed to call me by my first name--it's an unusual school), this is my favorite part of choir. You make me feel like I'm really singing--even though I suck."

So...I smell good, the boys don't misbehave with me, and I make the invisible kids happy. I'd say that's a job well done. Oh, and on top of all that, they're perfectly adorable, and I love them.

Talking to God

I do it all the time. In my head, sometimes aloud. I'm certain people who pass me in my car think I'm insane, because God and I have long conversations when I'm driving. He's a good listener.

Today, though, I seemed to be talking to him more than usual. I found myself saying, "I hope I'm not bothering you...

Weird...


Okay, I'm almost ready to finish my homework.

Things that happened today

The speakers in church today were incredibly boring. Even the bishopric members were sleeping. (p.s. It's called a talk, not a read.)

One of my friends told me I had cute shoes. She was right.

Tabitha made really yummy muffins that had cinnamon and bananas in them.

Adam was the one speaker in church who was not boring. He preached false doctrine convincingly and with great assurance. I love my son.

I came home during Sunday School and loaded the dishwasher because I was tired of hearing about our teacher's scouting experiences.



Still putting off the homework--but now I have a really good reason to do so. It makes Edgy love me.

Two things DJ said yesterday

One: "You're the coolest mom ever!"
The good thing about this was that it was unsolicited. He just came up to me, hugged me and said it. And I don't really care if it's true or not. Moms of teen-aged guys don't get to hear that a lot, so I'm choosing to believe him.

Two: "I don't think you know how to drive my car."
Taking into account the fact that I've been driving a little bit longer than he has, and that I drove "his" car for a couple of years before he ever was licensed (and it is not his car), I'm feeling that he's overstepping his boundaries a bit. And if I could ever learn to stop laughing when my kids say things like this, they might actually take me seriously someday.

And yes, I'm still procrastinating my homework.

Darrin makes me happy

Today after my run I showered and blew my hair dry and decided that was enough. No makeup, no fussing to straighten or fix my hair. I sat at the computer to work on more of my therapy assignment and Darrin walked in the room to invite me to accompany him to the store. I declined, indicating my lack of beautifulness. Darrin looked at me critically and said, "I think you look great."
I laughed. He said, "I'm serious. I like your hair like that--not really curly or straight. It looks kind of cool. And I like you without make-up. You look beautiful." So I kissed him, gave him the husband of the year award, and told him I adored him, then sent him to the store without me anyway.

And yes, I'm still putting off the therapy assignment.

To Segullah readers

I always seem to wait until the furor dies down before addressing increased traffic to my blog. Having strangers read about my rather unusual life is always something that causes a little bit of insecurity. However, for the most part the readers who have commented have been kind and supportive, which I appreciate. Let me back up...

A fellow blogger in the Queerosphere has been the topic of conversation on a Mormon Group blog, Segullah. In a comment following the post, he linked me, hence, the increased traffic to my site. Naturally, for a blogstalker such as I, having new blogs to read has been fun and I've enjoyed visiting them. It gives me hope that someday people in the church will recognize that faithfulness comes in all shapes and sizes, and that I'm not defined by the people I want to look at more than once. However, I noticed that when I left a comment on Marilyn's blog, she promptly deleted it. I respect her right to delete comments. It is, after all, her blog. But I'm a little disappointed because in my eyes that means she feels shame at being associated with me, and it prevents me from commenting on other related blogs for fear that they would feel the same. So just in case you feel a visit from me would be an intrusion, I'm answering your comments here.

Moon is a friend of a blogger I follow. She stopped by, no doubt, because I left a comment on his blog. I actually answered her comment on her blog, but will also answer it here. She mentioned my habit of posting dialogue, and said something about not being able to remember conversations with her therapist after leaving the office. I believe I've mentioned this before, but it takes me a long time to forget conversations--especially if I find them particularly meaningful. I post in dialogue form because that's how I recall it.
Katrina and Jared are married. One left a comment, the other an email. I've not had time yet to respond to the email, but thank you for your comments. It's really wonderful to encounter church members who understand that life usually doesn't follow expected norms, despite myths to the contrary purported in church meetings and within families. And I love the fact that they are open to learning about how others live with challenges and work to build faith daily. And you should visit their blog just because Katrina is adorable (AtP backs me up on this).
Emily, thank you for your comments (I'm assuming both comments are from you, even though only one has an embedded link). It's really nice to know that my words are understood and appreciated. Also, I love your grapefruit picture, which is a really random thing to say, but I happen to love the way that fruit tastes and smells (Softsoap makes Grapefruit Splash moisturizing body wash that is amazing!).
Zannah is another lovely redhead (I'm so lucky!!) who lives in Paris, France. She has some great pictures on her blog, and an interesting story to tell. And she wrote a post about shoes, so of course, I'm now a fan forever! Zannah, thanks for visiting me, and for commenting. You're welcome anytime.
I have no link for Claudia, who commented anonymously, but she said, "It is so great to know there are people like you in the world!" which is something I think anyone would like to hear. It's especially important to me because I'm often posting things I feel are negative or self-serving--so it's nice to be forgiven for my short-comings. Thanks!
Kate Benson spent three hours getting to know my blog. That's a little nerve-wracking. But her end analysis was complimentary, thank goodness. She's a professional photographer and has a delightful blog that mingles her professional and everyday life. And her frustrations with her daughter are very similar to the ones I encounter with Tabitha, which makes me feel less like an alien mother.

And now I can no longer complain that very few women have visited my blog (and I'm incredibly grateful to Ambrosia, Salad, Stephalumpagus, FoxyJ, Marmoreal, Boo, Kim, JB, Becca, Jay, Katherine, Mabupi, Mary, ~T, Latter-Gay-Saint, and any other female lurkers that visit me with an attempt at regularity, because you help me remember that I have friends of the female persuasion to balance the testosterone that seems to be ever-present in the Queerosphere).

If you sent me an email--look for an answer in the near future. And once again, thanks for visiting and providing links that have allowed me to learn more about your lives. It's been lovely to meet you!

Counseling assignment--September

I will just say the following:
1. I've decided to only eat Rice Crispy treats today. I've had three and am thinking about another, but my stomach is arguing with me.
2. Don't worry, the treats have mini-semi-sweet m&m's in them, so I'm getting one of the five basic food groups (the chocolate group, remember?).
3. I suppose I'll admit to drinking milk with the treats, as well.
4. I had a post nearly finished, complete with photographs, when blogger somehow erased the entire thing--hence the fixation with the treat report.
5. I suppose I'll try reposting another time, when I don't want to scream at blogger quite so much.

Last Weekend

Last year the Evergreen Conference, for me, was relaxing and fun. I met some people I'd found through blogs, and they were just as much fun as I thought they would be. But the conference, itself, was secondary. I attended workshops and devotionals, but I was mostly trying to get to know some really amazing new friends.

This year things were a bit different. For one, I attended the conference as myself, and was "out" to everyone there. I participated as a panalist in the MOM workshop, and I spoke briefly at the closing devotional. I was a little stressed the entire time, and this was compounded by the fact that I got stuck in horrific traffic more than once, and ended up rear-ending someone. Fortunately, the damage was negligible and no one was hurt, but still--stressful. I successfully made a scene at the MOM workshop when I found out it was being recorded and no one had told me. Apparently that scene involved me backing into and knocking over a whiteboard, although I have no recollection of that. I was told I'd be speaking at the closing devotional after the musical number, so I whisked out to use the bathroom after the opening prayer, but apparently there was no musical number, so I was met in the hallway by a number of people who hauled me back to the chapel. Once again, a lovely spectacle.

However, I spent tons of time with Sully, AtP, and Stephalumpagus which was wonderful. I met a lovely ex-lesbian. I had a long-overdue visit with Kim. I got to have lunch with Edgy on the way there. Dinner at Zupas with a large group of friends was very fun (and I loved the fact that AtP's parents came). All in all, I really did have a great time, made even better by the fact that Darrin and DJ were both with me.

I have nothing more to say right now, but I expect I will later. I'm still in recovery from cramming a zillion things into one weekend.

Personal space

A few days ago I was chatting with a friend online. He said some things that made me think:

Friend: I have to say that sometimes it's confusing to be with you.
Me: Why?
Friend: You make me feel like you want to be close. You're huggy and smile a lot. But it's also like you have space issues. It's kinda interesting to watch you when someone invades your space. You never say anything, but somehow they figure out that they're too close--you use body language or something. I dunno what it is, but they back off.
Me: I don't think I have space issues, I just don't like to be touched without my permission.
Friend: No, you do have space issues.
Me: For example?
Friend: Okay, no one, except maybe your husband or kids, would ever just spontaneously start to cuddle with you--or if they did, they'd stop pretty quickly. I don't think your closest friends would do that.
Me: Do your friends do that?
Friend: Sometimes. Or they'll put an arm around me when we're sitting together. Who does that to you?
Me: Husband, kids.
Friend: But, Sam, friends do that. They touch each other. It's part of what makes them feel connected and it shows they love or care about each other. It also means they're really comfortable being together.
Me: And you would feel uncomfortable if we did that.
Friend: No. But you would.

Touch is a big deal for me. Especially touch that involves any kind of skin contact. And while I don't necessarily agree that all friends are comfortable with some sort of expressive touch in their friendships, I do know that I have difficulty initiating or accepting it. The problem is that my tactile memory is unusually strong. When I experience prolonged or meaningful touch I can recall nearly everything about it later. I try to be very selective about the types of memories I make. What Friend doesn't understand is that simply sitting next to someone who has his/her arm around me creates sensations that are very intense for me. For example:
1. I remember how that person smells--every part of him/her. I can smell perfumes/colognes, antiperspirant, body scent, hair products, laundry detergents/softeners--everything. There is also an underlying, unique scent that each person has. If you are a special person in my life I could recognize you with my eyes closed simply on the basis of that. I used to think everyone could detect that "smell" in people--I'm told not everyone does that.
2. I understand body make-up. I don't really think about what the person looks like, but I'm very aware of height/build. Wherever my body has come into contact with the other person's, I remember strongly how that feels. If someone is sitting close to me, arm around me, the sides our our bodies will necessarily come into contact in some way. That's a very strong memory for me.
3. If I touch your skin, the memory of how that feels does not fade. Even today, I remember the feeling of bathing my babies, shaking hands with strangers, touching a friend's face. I do not give or receive massages because of this. I'm told most people hold hands because they want to connect/express affection. If I touch someone's hand (other than a greeting handshake), it's because I want to remember what it feels like. I will probably ask permission, or tell that person what I'm doing, before I touch him/her.
4. This has nothing to do with just sitting next to someone, but I'm adding it anyway. Kissing is interesting because if I am kissed by someone, I rarely recall what that feels like, but if I return the kiss, or kiss someone on the cheek, etc., that is also a very strong memory. It's probably good that I'm not affected by people kissing me because Darrin's family kisses a lot (stupid Spaniards/Italians) and I'd be overwhelmed by them. However, I don't kiss them back. I only kiss people I want to remember.

One of my counselors mentioned that my sensitivity to touch and smell are somewhat unusual. She, of course, linked those things to the abuse I've experienced, but I don't agree with her. I recall vivid touch/smell memories from my childhood years prior to the abuse. I think it's just part of who I am. I might not be as careful about close contact today if those senses had not been abused, so there's a link there, I suppose.

Friend: I think you should stop worrying so much about touch and personal space and just let people near you. A lot. I think it would help you get used to it and it wouldn't be a big deal anymore.
Me: I don't think you understand.
Friend: Nope, I don't. But I do think you want to be touched.
Me: It's not that easy.
Friend: Yes, it is. You just have to let down your guard for once. When was the last time you relaxed with someone who wasn't your husband?
Me: I don't know.
Friend: Doesn't that get tiring? When we're together we laugh and talk--but it's pretty obvious where you draw the line. I feel it if I casually touch your arm, or hug you when you're not expecting it.
Me: I don't do it on purpose.
Friend: And I'm not offended. I just wish you could feel safer with people who love you.
Me: So do I.

The truth is that if I let my guard down, if I allow touch, or if I initiate it, the feelings are overwhelming and profound. I'm telling myself that I trust the person I'm with, I believe that person will not try to hurt me, and I want to remember him/her. Getting to that point, however, is next to impossible, and has happened very few times in my life. And when it does happen, lurking in the back of my mind is a plan of what I'll do when that person leaves, because even at that point, I still believe that will happen. Someday I would like to stop surviving, and start living.

Confession

I love shoes. A lot. And I adore high heels.

Today I bought yet another pair of black heels (on sale, of course), and last week I bought a pair of shiny red flats.

The problem is that I promised myself I'd go barefoot or wear flipflops (and I have at least 12 pairs of those) until snow flies. I may have to make an exception. Or make up a dress code for work that requires shoes with at least one side, so I'll have an excuse.

Oh--and my newest pair of shoes are actually my size. Sometimes I have to buy a 5.5 or a 6 because that's the smallest size in stock. But these black heels are 5's and they feel great. It's lovely to wear a pair of shoes that aren't too big.

The end.

Can you keep your egg from cracking?

Adam makes me laugh. An assignment in one of his classes was to design a container in which to place a raw egg, such that the egg would not be damaged when dropped from the top of the football stadium. Most of the students were employing bubble wrap (yay!! I love bubble wrap!), Styrofoam peanuts, pillows--other such soft stuff. It all made sense. Adam, however went to school today holding his container: a can of cranberry jelly with the egg tucked safely inside and the lid taped securely back on. I can't wait to see if the egg stays in one piece. I have no idea how he thinks of these things.

Your Comments

I didn't delete them. I just changed my rss feeds so that my complete posts would show in your readers and the lazier friends don't actually have to visit me anymore (but I wish you still would!). Anyway, I republished a couple of posts, just to play with it, so some of your comments are not visible anymore. I still have them in my email, and I really appreciate what you say. Thanks!

Just for my Fellow Chocolate Fanatic

This is for you, Ambrosia. And if you're wondering why she gets a special post, it's because she unabashedly proclaims her devotion to chocolate, even going far enough to admit that she'd like to live on vitamin supplements and chocolate cake (something I've done for a day or two--until the cake was gone). Also she found a yummy link and publicized it, which makes me very happy.

Now, you've tasted my desserts before, so you know that when it comes to chocolate, I'm very serious. And I promise this is worth making. I wanted to take pictures and post them, but each time I make this, it gets eaten before I can. So you'll have to use your imagination. I might make it Sunday. If I do, I'll be sure to post a picture. But if you decide to be adventurous and try this, you must tell me what you think. I think it's mmmmmmmmmmmm.............

Raspberry Almond Truffle Cake

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray bottom of 13x9-inch pan with cooking spray. Combine:
1 chocolate fudge cake mix
1 1/3 C. water
1/2 C. vegetable oil
3 eggs
Beat with electric mixer on low speed for 30 seconds, then for 2 minutes on medium speed. Pour into pan and bake about 30 minutes or until cake tests done with toothpick. Cool completely.

Ganache: In a large microwavable bowl, combine 16 oz. semisweet chocolate chips (we prefer Guittard or Ghirardelli double chocolate), 1 1/3 C. heavy whipping cream, and 1/4 C. butter (not margarine). Microwave on high for one minute. Stir. Continue to microwave in 20 second intervals until mixture is smooth (do not overcook). Stir in 2 tsp. almond extract, and 2 tsp. vanilla. Note: this process can also be done by heating butter and cream to boiling and pouring over chocolate and stirring until smooth. Add flavorings last.

Line bottom of springform pan with parchment paper circle. Cut cake into 1-inch cubes. Place half of the cubes in mixing bowl and beat until crumbly. Add remaining cake and 1 3/4 C. ganache (reserve remaining). Beat until well combined (mixture will be thick). Gently fold in 2 C. fresh raspberries. Pour mixture into prepared pan, smooth top of cake. Cover with plastic wrap and chill until firm enough to unmold (this can be done in the freezer and takes 30-45 minutes).

Loosen cake from pan by running a hot knife between the side of pan and cake. Turn onto serving plate, and cover with remaining ganache. Garnish with more raspberries, slivered almonds, and whipped cream.

There it is, Ambrosia--my chocolate present to you. Let me know what you think!

Adam is the little brother

DJ is four years older than Adam. This has always been a problem in Adam's mind. He was born believing that he is able to do anything DJ can. This creates immeasurable difficulty as Adam tries to navigate life. There are certainly things in which he excels, and DJ does not (like math), and Adam is driven in a way that DJ, who believes life was meant for relaxation and recreation, cannot comprehend. However, there has never been a time when Adam was close to DJ's size, physically. At this point in their lives, Adam is 5'6", and tips the scale at 125 pounds, and DJ is edging toward six feet and almost 200 pounds. The difference between their weights is more than a whole Tabitha.

Unfortunately for Adam, he believes he is as strong as his older brother. Last night Adam's scout group was playing a game called British Bulldog, which, as far as I can ascertain, consists of tackling as many people as possible for no fathomable reason. Adam invited DJ to join them, which he was more than happy to do. Adam decided to take down DJ, and ran at him with all his might. DJ, in defense, lowered his shoulder to stave off the attack, and collided with Adam's ribs.

Adam and I had more bonding time in our three hour emergency room visit. Fortunately, nothing is broken. He has a lovely contusion where he contacted the shoulder, and sprained cartilage (which I had no idea even existed), and is home today, trying to navigate breathing, movement of any kind, and lack of sleep.

Apparently, when Adam was a toddler, I forgot to teach him the difference between "big" and "not as big." We'll work on that.

Profound conclusion drawn while reading Winnie the Pooh

Because the vast majority of my friends are younger than I, I will die before they and thus, I shall never have to face life without them.

I love reading children's books.

Spiders On Drugs

For the naturalist in you...

In my spam box this morning I found:

Everyone's comments. So it's a good thing that I go through that thing periodically, because I rarely visit my own blog. I'm hoping no one asked me anything that needed answering and I missed it, because I have no idea how long my electronic mail sorting genie has been putting things in the wrong place, but if you did, and I didn't answer, please forgive me and blame EMSG.

Thank you.

Oh--and thanks for the birthday wishes. :)

In my spam box tonight I found that:

1. I'm to be congratulated for being a mystery shopper.
2. I can be a sales person and make more than $6ooo monthly.
3. I can get ten new ring tones for my phone.
4. There's a girl that wants to show me pictures of her naked self.
5. I can be a product tester of the Apple iPhone.
6. I've won a 3day/2night stay in hell--I mean, Las Vegas (it's probably less hellish now that the temperature isn't always 100 degrees or more).
7. Yet another job which makes more than $9000 monthly.
8. I can trade in my new car (and why would I do that? I just bought it in March!).
9. I can buy a brand new car online for just pennies.
10. Someone wants to deposit $1500 directly into my savings account--I just have to give them the account and routing number and it will be there before midnight tomorrow.
11. Yet another naked lady trying to show me her pictures.
12. I can buy part of a corporation/LLC in Nevada.
13. There are thousands of things I can buy for just pennies at a government auction.
14. I can earn a degree through the University of Phoenix.
15. Michelle Andrews wants me to earn money working at her laptop at her kitchen table--and assures me I will never see this offer again.
16. I can regrow my hair, starting now!!

I know an old lady who swallowed a fly...

Yeah, it was me. It was just a tiny fruit fly that flew into my mouth while I was teaching a piano lesson today, and I swallowed it. My student thanked me, because the little thing was seriously bugging her. Now I need to find a spider...

Just what were you expecting anyway?

I met someone recently. She's read my blog(s) and had a preconceived notion of what I would be like, physically. I didn't fit any of her imaginings. So, for anyone who hasn't met me, this is the disillusionment post.

Item one: I am not blond. I understand that Samantha of the television show was blond. She was a figment of the imagination played by blond Elizabeth Montgomery, who also donned a dark brown wig to play Samantha's cousin, Serena. I have brown hair, which varies in shade from light to dark with the seasons and whatever whim overcomes me when selecting the box of hair color at the store. My natural color is grey. I noticed my first grey hairs at the age of 13 or 14. It was noticeable enough to require coloring by the time I was 18. Apparently, stress and eating disorders, both of which effect hair loss and pigmentation (to a limited degree) contributed to my genes which would have made me prematurely grey anyway (my siblings all began greying by the time they were in their 20's), and sped up the process a bit. However, I don't plan to unveil my natural color for another twenty years (or so).

Item two: I am not emaciated. When I was in my teens and early twenties I was unhealthily thin at times. At its lowest point, my adult weight hovered around 80 pounds. That was a long time ago. My weight now, is well-within a normal range and has been so for quite a few years. After my children were born, I decided to do some weight lifting/body building, and I was an avid lifter until about two years ago. At that point I realized I was burning more calories than I was consuming, so I cut out the lifting to slow the weight loss (because I was not going to give up running). Result--my arms are not as beautiful as they used to be, and I'm not as tight anywhere except for my legs. Bottom line--I just look really normal.

Item three: I'm short. For some reason, that seems to be the comment I get most often, "You're shorter than I expected!" So--I'm 5' 2" tall. If I give the impression in my blog that I'm taller, that's only because I feel taller when I'm alone. In fact, I think I might be. However, one of the nicest things I've had someone say to me was when Tolkien Boy (speaking of hugging me) said, "...you fit well..." which might be something only he would think about--but still makes me smile.

Item four: I have brown eyes. I'm obsessed with blue ones, and always have been, and I'm sure I favor blue-eyed people over brown-eyed ones (AtP, Sully, and TB all have rather gorgeous blue eyes...if they had another X chromosome, rather than a Y one, and other female attributes, I might even be attracted to them, simply on the basis of their eyes...okay...that's too weird even to contemplate...nope...can't do it...for one thing, they're all too tall...for another, I can see them all balding in the next 20 years--so unattractive on females...but they do have very nice teeth...all of them...okay, I'm stopping because I keep giggling about this and I'm trying to be sort of serious, and this is a very long parenthetical phrase...). However, my own are dark brown, and not likely to be a different color in this lifetime without the aid of colored contact lenses. By the way, Darrin's eyes are green, but DJ's are blue...he has nice eyes...

Item five: I'm not sad and depressed all the time. In fact, I laugh at pretty much everything, so if you don't like the sound of my laugh, don't hang out with me ever. Oh--and I love to say funny things to AtP when we're passing unsuspecting people because then he starts laughing (very loudly), and startles the passers-by. Sometimes they even jump a little. And I have an obnoxious streak which makes me feel like teasing the people I love the most. One time I was teasing AtP about not being able to hear me (he's deaf in one ear), and By a Thread (because he is very sweet) mentioned that I wasn't very nice to my friend. So sometimes I forget that I'm teasing too much and have to be reminded. But for the most part, if you're with me I'm probably really happy just because you're there. I leave all my depressed stuff in this blog, then go out and have a wonderful time--unless I really love and trust you--then I might tell you if I'm having a hard time--one of the penalties of being my friend.

Okay--myths dispelled. Now, when you meet me you'll say, "Wow, you look exactly like I imagined you would!" because I describe myself very well. Although, as one person told me recently, most of my blogger friends are gay men, who really don't care what I look like anyway. Who knows, he could be right.

Tonight the sky was overcast except on the horizon. Lightning flickered through clouds already orange from the setting sun. As the glowing edges of the clouds dimmed, the sky turned gray, split with forks of purple lightening. It was beautiful.

I don't know what causes purple lightning, but on nights like tonight, when life seems a little bit daunting, I just like it.

If you sent me an email that was highly uncomplimentary and critical, I'm answering you here:

There is always a risk, when one publicly posts with abandon about personal topics, that people will read, and then judge the writer. It's a natural tendency when reading about the life of another, I suppose. And there have been some who have looked at my life and drawn the following conclusions (and e-mailed me to tell me about it):
1. I'm a woman--it's easier for me to pretend not to be gay and to have a heterosexual marriage, than it would be for a man.
2. I'm a woman--I don't think as logically as a man, I think with my feelings, and therefore, stay in the safety of religion as I know it without questioning. I seek security over truth.
3. I'm a woman--sexuality in women is more fluid. There is no way I can possibly understand the deep needs a homosexual man has, because I really have no deep needs.
4. I'm bisexual--that gives me the freedom to be attracted to a man, and therefore, have a marriage to one.
5. I'm messed up psychologically, as well as emotionally--so I can't really say anything concrete about who I am or what I think.

I realize that I can't change people's mind about me--nor can I dispel any ideas they may have based on things I have said previously. One particular writer obviously believes women are substandard organisms without the ability to think independently. There is no purpose, really, in addressing him, as he won't be back to read, and nothing I say (because I am a woman) will make any difference anyway. However, this is my blog and I feel the need to at least state my case, regardless of how it is accepted by anyone.
1. I've never been a man--I have no idea which gender has an "easier" time being gay and married. However, I will also state that the majority of mixed-orientation marriages I know of are those with a gay man. And most of the homosexual women I know of have no desire to be with men sexually--at all. If we're talking about sex, certainly, my husband has an easier time becoming aroused than a gay husband would--however, because of the physical damage I sustained when abused, if he's not very careful (and often, even if he is), I end up torn and bleeding after "making love", so I leave it to you to decide whether it's "easier" for a less aroused man, or for a woman who is highly aware that the act of physical love might bring emotional pain from past abuse, as well as very physical pain... and yes, sometimes I still cry afterward.
2. I've never been a man--and I know that statistically men are more logical and women are more intuitive--but I've also never been a statistical norm. I have my illogical moments--I usually celebrate them because I find them hilarious. I have never used my religion as an excuse, a crutch, or a security blanket. If I am an active member of anything, it's because I have researched it, learned all I can, and made the decision to believe in it. You will never hear me say I acted on a feeling--because it's a rare occurrence in my life. Certainly, safety/security are very nice, but most who know me understand that those are not things I focus upon. I'm much more interested in dealing with realities--which often are not safe or secure in any way. While irrationality does happen with me, it usually follows a fairly logical pattern--in short, if you believe I am simply a woman who lives according to her feelings, you really don't know me very well, and I think we need to play a few strategy games together--I love to win--just ask Bawb and Ambrosia.
3. I honestly believe this is too stupid to even address, but I will anyway, since you took the time to e-mail me about it. I can't speak for other men and women. I have no idea about fluidity in sexuality. I do know that beautiful women appeal to me sexually, and men (beautiful or not) don't. I also believe that if I felt deeply emotionally bonded with a person (something that rarely happens in my life), and being sexual with that person was appropriate, I could have sex with him/her regardless of physical attraction. Someday, if you're interested, and I think you're intelligent enough to have the discussion, we can talk about the details of this topic, but the bottom line, for me, is that there's no way to compare my deep feelings/needs (because I actually do have them or I wouldn't be in a loving, sexual relationship of any kind, nor would I be exploring my past in an effort to improve my quality of life, nor would I attempt intimate, long lasting friendships/relationships) with those of others, and the point is moot from the beginning.
4. I'm not bisexual. You can take my word for this. That's all.
5. I'm messed up, emotionally. However, I also believe I'm fairly self-aware. I'm willing to look at myself and analyze proper courses of action. It's not easy, of course, and doesn't always follow my prescribed course of action, but I'd have to argue that for a messed-up person, I function at a rather high level (anyway, that's what Jason Lockhart told me, and I believe everything he says). As for saying anything concrete about who I am or what I think--I don't really believe there is anyone who can speak for me better than I can, myself, nor would I ever allow anyone to do so.

Before I finish this post, I just have to say, I hope my rebuttals to your assertions don't discourage your continued e-mail commentaries. Because even though I'm often stunned by your imbecility, it does give me the opportunity to state my case--as well as giving me something to blog about--always a good thing. Have a nice day!

Credits

I just have to say to the North Star genius guys that I love the picture of the cute girl on the "Women" page. I also love the fact that they let me help choose it. That's all.

Telling Sheila

I have a wonderful friend whom I've mentioned before. I'll call her Sheila. We're both musicians (her master's degree is in vocal performance, mine is in piano performance) and meet weekly to instruct each other--she's my vocal coach, I'm her piano teacher. I've known her for nearly ten years, but only in the past two years have I allowed her to be close to me.

Sheila is physically exuberant. She loves to dance and teaches fitness classes at a local gym. She's always trying to get me to come teach with her, and doesn't understand why I'm so solitary. When we first became friends, Sheila would often hug me--something I didn't reciprocate. It has only been in the past eighteen months that I've felt comfortable accepting physical touch from anyone but Darrin. I'm finally able, now, to allow contact from people when I meet them, and prolonged or more frequent contact with friends I trust and love. Sheila has become one whom I love and trust.

Sheila hugs everyone. She enjoys physical contact. When we teach each other, she touches me often and if we're just talking, she'll cuddle or put her arm around me. This feels unnatural to me, as there are very few with whom I share that type of physicality. In order for it to feel comfortable with those few, I've had to establish a very strong trust threshold and emotional intimacy. Sheila ignores my reluctance, confident that I'll get used to her affection, certain that I adore her. Truly, I do love her, but I still have difficulty with her enthusiasm.

Sheila and I talk often. She knows of the abuse in my life, and of my struggle with anorexia and cutting. She's been supportive and helpful many times. About a year ago, Sheila and I were talking of homosexuality. I mentioned the topic of mixed-orientation marriage. She was adamantly opposed to the idea, and said she felt it would be cruel to put a spouse in the position of living each day, knowing the person he/she was in love with did not feel physically attracted to him/her. I allowed her to speak her mind, then ended the conversation. Since that time, I've gently brought up the topic on a few other occasions, and we've talked a lot about what constitutes a good marriage. She's always been very positive about my relationship with Darrin, and we talk about things Darrin and I do to maintain love and intimacy in our marriage--all this, of course, without her knowing the true nature of our marriage.

Yesterday, I decided it was time to tell Sheila I was gay. She's aware of my friendships with other gay men and women. She also knows of my personal commitments to and convictions about God and his gospel. I think it was a little shocking and unexpected for her, but she recovered quickly, laughed, and started asking questions. She asked very pointed questions about my marriage relationship, and often shook her head in disbelief. When an hour had past, she put her arms around me and said, "When I think of all you've been through in your life, when I realize the things you live with daily, and I see that it hasn't spoiled you or made you bitter, I just want to hold you forever." Honestly, I thought she was going to--again, she often disregards my boundaries when it comes to touch. However, she hugged me several times, held me briefly, kissed me good-bye, and went home.