Not quite finished...

And so, in about three weeks I will see Therapist once again, and hopefully he will be able to help me put myself back together. Please stop calling me Humpty Dumpty.

A time to weep, a time to laugh...

I will be honest; there are parts of my life that I don't believe I will ever understand. There are times I want to kick and scream and tell everyone I know how very unfair I think it is. There are times when I just want to be held while I sob out all the misery left behind.

But there are also parts of my life that are incredibly beautiful. As I was running this morning, I realized how much I love that part of my day. The world is dazzlingly bright, and the smell of fresh air and grass just make me feel happy. My body feels free and fit--I feel as if I belong to the earth. I hear the morning birdsong, see the blue of the sky, feel the breeze as I run...it's an incredible feeling.

I have been blessed by the people in my life. I know this. I am plagued by the fear that one of them will leave--and realistically, this will probably happen. But I also realized today that nothing can take from me the amazing moments I've spent with them. Those belong to me, even if the people do not. Spending those moments in fear rather than celebration is a waste of very precious time.

I have been blessed with a joyful, loving heart. If you've spent time with me, I'm probably in love with you. That's just how it works. The list of people I'm in love with is rather long...and the more time you spend with me, the more deeply I fall in love with you, especially if you love me back. It makes me happy to love you.

There are so many things I love to do. My life is full. I have complained endlessly about the hurts in my life, and I'll probably continue to do so, since this is my blog. But a year ago I met someone who spends his life giving motivational seminars to large groups of people. He has a weekly email which I receive, and it always has some upbeat, obvious, happy message which I read and delete. But this week, in spite of the obviousness, I needed to hear what he had to say.

If a man is indeed
the sum of his memories,
then removing or changing an experience
would change the man.

I like me;
I may not like the things
that happen to me,
but if I changed them
I wouldn't be who I am today
or who I WILL be tomorrow.

Never regret;
you may look back and think
things could have been better
but you may just turn that weakness
into the strength needed
to be where you are today.
-Peter Davidson

Stuff happens.

Some of the stuff that happens in life is fun and some of it can be, well, not so much fun. We rarely get to choose what happens to us, but we always get to choose how we respond to what happens to us. Sometimes running away may be the right thing to do, but hopefully we eventually grow into wiser beings when we take the time and energy to sift through our experiences (aka our STUFF) and learn from them.

So, take a look at your recent or long ago stuff and decide: is it time to RUN or is it time to LEARN?

I've spent the past four months poised to run. I've tried to push away people who love me. I've tried to bury myself in work. I've tried to isolate myself. It isn't making me feel better, of course. It never does. The problem is that LEARNING usually hurts, and I'm becoming less resilient as I keep encountering painful things. But honestly, it can't hurt more than trying to separate myself from the people I love deeply. It can't hurt more than remaining stagnant, or repeating stupid mistakes. It's time for me to LEARN not RUN.

So if you're someone I've tried to push away, but maybe you still love me, will you help me? Because I'm going to need it. I'm pretty tired, and LEARNING might be hard for me. And I haven't been grateful or helpful or nice in the recent past, so I don't really deserve it. But I'm asking anyway. Will you help me? Please, will you keep loving me? I don't think I can do this alone.

Fairy Tale

Once upon a time a young Samantha met a young Darrin. Samantha thought he was very nice. Darrin fell in love with Samantha's young friend, Gina, who had the most gorgeous blue eyes in the world, and a very nice body to accompany them (you can take my word for this). However, unlike her beautiful exterior, Gina's interior was somewhat shallow, and after dating Darrin for a week or so, she decided he just wasn't good enough, and they did not live happily ever after.

For whatever reason, Darrin wanted to stay friends with Samantha, even when he wasn't dating the beautiful Gina. And since Samantha thought Darrin was nice, that was fine with her. After a few months, Darrin and Samantha began to spend lots of time together, and one day Samantha thought maybe Darrin was falling in love. Normally this would be a good thing, except that Samantha was the type of person who liked beautiful Gina's more than she liked nice Darrin's.

Weeks went by. Samantha made several dating suggestions for Darrin. He was an agreeable sort and took her suggested dating advice. Samantha had a roommate named Karen. She thought Karen and Darrin would make a lovely couple (and it had nothing to do with the fact that their names rhyme, since both of the names in this story are pseudonyms). So during the day, Darrin and Samantha were inseparable, and at night, Darrin and Karen went on dates.

As time went by, Samantha became very happy having Darrin with her. She missed him when he was gone and looked forward to seeing him every day. One night Karen wasn't available for a date, so Darrin and Samantha stayed home and spent the evening together. Samantha was sitting close to Darrin, and thinking about how much she liked spending time with him, and Darrin had his arm around her (Samantha has no idea what he was thinking), and it occurred to Samantha that if Darrin continued to spend time with Karen, he might marry her. Then she realized that Darrin had become her absolute very best friend in all the world. And she knew that if he married someone else, he would probably not be able to be her absolute very best friend in all the world. So she asked Darrin if he'd marry her. He said he wished she was serious, and to Samantha's surprise, she found that she was.

So Samantha and Darrin got married.

And today, millions of years later, it's Darrin's birthday. So as is my tradition, I am posting ten things I love about Darrin:
1. There has never been a time, in the millions of years we've been married, that Darrin has not supported me in any part of my life. He believes in me and always tries to help me succeed.
2. He is a wonderful father. He loves his kids with all his heart and always wants to do more for them.
3. Nothing seems to phase him. He's just easygoing and loves being along for the ride.
4. He has a wonderful sense of humor. Sometimes, its just fun to sit with him and laugh.
5. He's good at building/fixing things--even though sometimes I complain that he takes it to extremes (sometimes I think the best way to fix something is to throw it away).
6. He likes to shop for anything.
7. He pretends to love the music I play.
8. He thinks I'm beautiful--and he makes me feel that I'm beautiful, too.
9. He goes on walks with me even though he hates it, just so he can spend time with me.
10. He buys me flowers because he knows I love them.

Happy birthday, Darrin. Being married to you has brought me incredible joy. I love you.

See you in September

This time last year I was skipping around the Queerosphere, leaving comments (sometimes snarky, sometimes sympathetic, always profound...okay, maybe not), and getting to know people. I left interesting impressions wherever I went. For example, I was a frequent visitor to Pinetree's blog (I still am), but he had decided that I must be a drag queen. Smurf seconded his opinion...until I contacted him on a personal matter under my real name and he googled me, did some really good math, and figured out who I was online. However, it still tickles me that they thought I was a drag queen. I made tons of new friends, many of whom I still talk to today, and even organized a sort of reunion at, of all places, THE EVERGREEN CONFERENCE.

We had a wonderful time (at least I did), ditched the Friday night barbecue to meet even more blogger people and have a semi-elite dinner together. Then they humored Smurf and I and played Hugger Mugger with us (and no one else liked the game, but there's no accounting for tastes), and we stayed up too late and it was FUN!

But then I had to get all self-absorbed and serious and I no longer talk much on anyone's blog, and dangit!! I'm funny!! What the heck is going on here???

So I hereby decree a new era of Samantha-isms. I'll be visiting you, and even if your post doesn't interest me I'll say something irrelevant just so I can see my words in print. If you don't like it, you'll have to delete me. And occasionally I might say something serious, but don't count on it. We all just need to lighten up! Okay, maybe it's just me that needs to lighten up...I can take my own advice, provided it's good.

That being said, I hereby invite any interested party with spare cash lying around to come to the Evergreen Conference this year. You can see how much it's benefited me--look Ma! I'm straight!!! And I promise to bring plenty of neon sticky notes, plan lobby floor conferences, take the stairs not the elevator, laugh my guts out, and maybe even learn something--but as long as the company is good, I don't really care about anything else.

So--if you want to meet at the conference, let me know. Last year we made a private commemorative blog, because some of us had never seen each other before--we probably don't need to do that this year. However--some of you offered to dress in drag and accompany me to the women's classes (but didn't follow through), and this year, I'd really like the company. Come on, you guys!! I went to your classes last year and I learned all about "sex-o-clock", and "raging erections". Surely if I can do that for you, you can reciprocate...imagine what the ladies talk about...tempting?

Okay, enough! I am finished with this post!

Coming out to my children--yes, they all know. Part last: Tabitha and the end of the story

This post is dedicated to Ambrosia, iwonder, and Jason Lockhart, and you should go to their blogs and say hello to them--please leave a comment, otherwise your visit will show up on their counters and they won't know who you are, and it's very rude to visit someone and not introduce oneself. And just for Jason, because he asked, I have "supersized" this topic and will write about it in more than one post.

After talking with DJ, I received a late phone call (which isn't necessarily unusual at my house). I was talking in my bedroom, when DJ came in and started messing with things on Darrin's dresser. I said, "Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping--go to bed." He answered me: "Okay. But I thought you might like to know--that talk we just had? Well, Tabitha was still awake and she's upstairs crying."

I quickly said good-bye to my caller and went to Tabitha's room. Sure enough, she was in bed sniffling. I sat down next to her. She crawled into my lap and sobbed. I waited until she calmed down a bit, then asked her if she wanted to tell me what was bothering her. She nodded, but didn't say anything. I asked if she'd heard what DJ and I were talking about. She said, "A little bit," which in Tabitha language means she heard everything. I asked why it made her cry. She said, "Mom, I don't want people to find out about you and Sully and say mean things about you. I don't want them to hurt you. It's not fair."

I told her that everyone gets hurt, and that, no doubt, if lots of people found out about Sully and me, there would be those who were unkind. But I told her it would be okay, no matter what was said. I asked her if she had any questions. She said she didn't, but asked if I would just hold her and talk to her a little while. So I rocked my twelve-year-old daughter to sleep, while we talked about the upcoming school year, new friends, how she'd like to have her hair cut, whether or not she'd like to play on the volleyball team...

When she started to doze off, I tucked her in and kissed her.

Then next morning, assuming that Adam knew about Sully, Tabitha spilled the beans because she wanted to see what he thought about everything. Adam and Sully had made arrangements to go to a movie that afternoon, so I had Adam call and ask Sully to come 30 minutes early, at which time I let him know of the Stevens family confidence breach. To my relief, Sully laughed and said he was glad the whole family knew. He and I chatted for a few moments alone, then invited the kids to join us. The were allowed to ask any questions they had (they had very few) and Sully and I again let them know that this was not something they could share, but that Sully and I would like to choose who was told. They agreed.

It's been a week now. Adam has had another conversation with me, in which he tried to make his 13-year-old brain understand how gay mom has sex with straight dad:
Me: I can explain, but I don't think you'll understand.
Adam: Give it a try?
Me: Okay. But it might be awkward. Most kids don't like to think about their parents having sex.
Adam: Try anyway?

So I tried. I explained in the most basic of terms that because Darrin and I love each other and because we've worked together for many years, that we now are able to express physical love without being distracted by my orientation. I explained that even though I'm not necessarily attracted to him, he's attracted to me, and I love him deeply, so having that physical relationship is joyful because sex between two people who love each other is something wonderful. I really did try to explain...

Adam: I'm not going to get this, am I?
Me: I don't think so. I'm sorry.
Adam: Can we try again when I'm fifteen?
Me: Of course. In the meantime, don't worry too much about this, okay?
Adam: Okay.

Anyway, today is pretty much life as usual, and that's a good thing.

Coming out to my children--yes, they all know. Part two: DJ

This post is dedicated to Ambrosia, iwonder, and Jason Lockhart, and you should go to their blogs and say hello to them--please leave a comment, otherwise your visit will show up on their counters and they won't know who you are, and it's very rude to visit someone and not introduce oneself. And just for Jason, because he asked, I have "supersized" this topic and will write about it in more than one post.

(By the way, before I begin the post--thanks to those of you who have identified yourselves either through comments or email in the past week. I love getting to know other people, reading their blogs, and learning more about them. And if you haven't said anything yet--there's no time like the present.)

DJ has always been a listener. He talks when he feels comfortable, or when he has something to say, but mostly he just wants to be with people and hear their stories. There's a warmth about him that people are drawn to, and for me, well, he just makes me feel happy when I'm with him. Sully and DJ have become very good friends over the past couple of years, which is a good thing for me, because I absolutely love Sully. We've had him come to our home often, and he celebrates most holidays and birthdays with us in some way. And just in case you're wondering why I'm bringing Sully into this post--it's because it was through him that DJ learned about me.

Before he left for school, Sully had written notes to each member of our family. He had spent an evening with us, and after he went home, I sent the kids to bed and cleaned up the kitchen. An hour later I opened his note to me, and saw at the bottom a postscript which read: In my letter to DJ I told him that I was gay...

It was nearly midnight. I walked up to DJ's room and listened. I could tell that he wasn't sleeping. I turned on the light and asked if he wanted to talk. He nodded, so I sat beside him on the bed and asked him what he thought of the things Sully had told him. DJ said he wasn't really surprised. He had wondered about it and thought it might be true. But to have it written out and confirmed was sort of disconcerting. He wanted to know why Sully came to me. I told him Sully really hadn't come to me, I had come to him. DJ wanted to know how I knew Sully was gay without him telling me, and why I would want to talk to him about it. So, I told DJ that I was gay, as well, and that I knew how it felt to grow up thinking that I was the only one--at least in the church. And I thought that Sully might need to talk to someone who kind of understood how he felt. And besides that, I loved Sully and wanted to support him as he learned more about himself which can be really scary. DJ had a few questions about me, but none about Sully. I gave him the same reassurances that I'd given Adam, and also made it clear that he must keep confidential the information Sully had given him. He gave me the, "well, duh!!" look, but I told him I just felt it needed to be said. He said he would never tell anyone, of course.

I asked DJ if he had any other questions about me or about Sully. He said he didn't because we have talked about homosexuality openly for many years. DJ shares a birthday with my cousin, who is gay, who came out when DJ was about five years old. So when he heard conversations about the person who was born on the same day as he was, DJ had lots of questions about what was happening. We answered them.

Our current conversation continued:
Me: DJ, Sully's been through a lot in the past couple of years, but I think he's much healthier today. He definitely seems stronger. It's okay to worry about him, because he's your friend, but Sully is a really wonderful person, and I think he'll do what's necessary to stay healthy and strong.
DJ: I know. I'm really not worried.
Me: Really?
DJ: No.
Me: Why not?
DJ: It's because of you.
Me: But I worry about people all the time.
DJ: Yeah, but you also have taught me for my whole life that even if people mess up, it doesn't change who they are. Even if they think or believe differently from me, I still love them. You just taught me that I can care about people and let them live their lives without deciding what they need to do. You always say, 'Other people's lives and choices belong only to them. Your job is not to tell them what to do, but to love them no matter what.'"
Me: I do?
DJ: All the time. I've heard it for as long as I can remember.
Me: Wow. I had no idea I was so preachy.
DJ: Yep.
Me: I'm sorry.
DJ: Mom, you know I'm kidding. You don't really preach, you just let us know that everyone is very special. And I believe that.
Me: Why do you believe me? You're a teenager, you're supposed to deny everything your parents have taught you and go be rebellious with your friends.
DJ: Maybe someday.
Me: Warn me first.
DJ: Of course. I'll write you an email and bake you cookies.
Me: Good idea.
DJ: Can I tell you why I believe you?
Me: Oh, yeah, I asked you a question.
DJ: I believe you because I've watched how you care about people--and I see that they love you, too. It's real. You're not loving them because it's a calling, or because you think it's right, but because they're really important to you. I've seen you cry when one of your friends is hurting. When they're in our house, I've watched you laugh with them. And it makes you happy. I want to be like that.
Me: DJ, you often surprise me.
DJ: Well, I'm just pretty awesome.
Me (laughing): No question about it. Will you sleep now?
DJ: I think so. I'm pretty tired.
Me: Be sure you respond to Sully's letter. It's a really important thing to tell someone what he's told you. Just make sure you let him know how you feel about him.
DJ: I'd already planned to email him in the morning.
Me: And please, ask questions, if you have them. I think Sully would love to answer them, and you know you can also ask me.
DJ: I know, but I really don't have any questions right now.
Me: Okay. Sleep well, and I love you.
DJ: I love you, too. Mom? I'm really glad you're my mom.
Me: DJ, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Good night.

How about that? My teenager listens to me occasionally, and in his eyes, I'm an okay mom.

Funny

This made laugh so hard (but what else would one expect from the "Spawn of Satan")!

My Dad

I finally talked with my dad today. I explained to him the problems I'm having with current therapy assignments--specifically the fragmentation of my person that I've created. We talked about the different feelings each fragment is experiencing in reference to parents, abuse, and God/Christ. It was a difficult thing to do, but had some rather marvelous results.

Number 1: My dad loves me. He always has. He said he hasn't always been the greatest parent, but he hopes I'll forgive him someday. Regardless, he loves me--every part of me--even the fragments I've created. He loves the child that read when she was three, learned her times tables at four, and beat him at chess at age five. He loves the desperately sad, angry eleven-year-old who wonders why he didn't save her. He loves the confused teen who cut and starved herself to relieve pain beyond anything she could imagine. He loves me--the me I have built as an adult.

Number 2: My dad believes the wisest course of action at this point is to see if Therapist will continue to let me work with him. The distance seems a little extreme, but my dad thinks it will be worth it. So--contingent on Therapist's caseload and willingness--I may get my wish to see the love of my life once again (I have so many of those!!).

Number 3: My dad doesn't think I'm crazy.

This is my 100th post. It feels monumental to me in so many ways.

Just in case you were wondering.

Dear DJ,

"Felunica", "horfa", and "fwic" are not words. It does not matter if they "roll off the tongue" well. If you continue to use them, you will keep losing at Scrabble.

Love,
Mom

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I experienced something prior to my 12th birthday which left me feeling bereft of anything human. I was angry, sad, and alone. Any belief in God that had been instilled in me during my childhood was gone. I stayed in this state for many years. I attended church, as it was a requirement--I was active in YW activities (again, required)--I spoke in Sacrament Meeting when assigned, using many wonderful scriptures mingled with the words of Thoreau, Kafka, Sandburg, and Dr. Seuss. But I had no belief in what I said. The talks were as well-crafted as I could make them, but far from spirit-inducing--although I'm certain there was thought provocation.

At age 17, I left my home. I got a job and worked until I entered college, at which point I stopped attending church. I went occasionally when a roommate suggested it might be fun, or when there was a social reason to attend, or when someone I knew left on a mission. I watched people worship and wondered what the point was. I was touched by nothing--ever.

However, at one point, perhaps by accident (I refuse to speculate), I encountered James E. Faust. Being an avid reader, and thoroughly familiar with the folklore surrounding his last name, I was somewhat interested in him. Enough to read some of what he had said. I researched his writings (secular and spiritual), I read about his life, and somewhere inside me a connection began to form. He seemed real. I felt that if I met him, he wouldn't care that I fell in love with women, that my body had been battered and used beyond that which it was capable, that I didn't go to church or believe in God, that I was filthy and beyond redemption. I felt, somehow, that he would love me--all of me--that he would allow me to stay with him, even knowing that I was unworthy of his presence, and that there was a possibility that he might even enjoy my company.

I know--how bizarre to fantasize about a church leader. I have nothing more to add to that particular sentiment.

I suppose all this came about because I loved what President Faust had to say. I loved the way he presented it. I loved his words. For the first time in my life, someone spoke to me in a way that made sense. I never felt that I was condemned if I didn't believe him. On the contrary, I always felt that he was challenging me to prove or disprove what he said, to question, to research, to find out for myself. In time I realized that my testimony was built primarily through looking for more and more information based on talks and books by President Faust. He spoke logically. I didn't have to rely on blind obedience. And that was okay.

President Faust died today. I have always felt when older church leaders passed away that it was the natural course of events, not to be mourned but simply something that happened. This particular death feels different to me. I feel a sense of loss, because in two months he won't be speaking to me one more time. I won't feel the rush of love and gratitude when I see him at the pulpit. I'm going to miss him--a person I have never met--I'm not sure how that happens.

Speaking of Darrin's demise...

I was talking with a friend (married) on the phone a couple of nights ago. We were discussing what we would do if we ever found ourselves spouseless--for whatever reason. He said he wasn't sure he could ever get married again. I told him I was going to, for sure. He was surprised and said he couldn't see me married to anyone but Darrin. Then I explained that I would find some sad, lonely man who enjoyed going out to dinner, seeing movies, playing games, taking long walks and talking, but wasn't really that interested in having sex. He said such a man does not exist. Now I'm completely bummed. Darrin just better not die--ever.

Or if Darrin ever does die, I told another friend I'm moving to a cave with my snakes and piano and I'm never coming out or talking to another person ever again.

Somewhat extreme, I suppose, but it won't happen for another 25 or 30 years, and by that time my blog will be obsolete, I'll have been replaced by a younger, more vibrant (who knows, perhaps more male) Queen of the Queerosphere, The Great -L- will have grown too old to leap tall buildings in a single bound and come to my rescue, and everyone else will have such compelling lives that they will have forgotten I exist. Which is, I suppose, the only available option in life's inevitability. However, on the off chance that you still love me, I'll post directions to my cave when I move into it.

I'm a loser magnet.

I did not want to go to the store yesterday. Bad things happen when I go to the store when I don't want to.

Bad thing number one: A large man (I swear he was seven feet tall and equally as wide) rolled my direction and asked me if I knew where to find the "vitamin pills". As I was headed that direction, I showed him in a very nice manner, whereupon he asked me where to find the condoms and asked which kind I prefered. Being unhappy that he asked, I pointed them out to him and suggested it might take awhile before he could find a place on his body on which to attach it, then I left him with his mouth hanging open.

Bad thing number two: A woman was standing next to me in the haircare aisle. She admired my hair and asked if I used something special to attain its thickness. I muttered something about genetics. She woefully indicated her thinning locks. Being in a hurry, but not unsympathetic, I mentioned that it must be frustrating. She turned nasty in a second and said, "Just what do you mean by that?!" I blinked at her and said: "Frustrating: 1. Discouraging by hindering, 2. Preventing realization or attainment of a desire." She said, "What??" I said, "Good luck with your hair. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful." and walked away praying that she doesn't abide in the same town in which she shops.

Bad thing number three: A child kept following me. I took the child to the service desk, whereupon the young lady informed me that they didn't provide childcare services. I tried to explain that the child wasn't mine--she took a phone call in the middle of my sentence and kept making shooing motions with her hands. The child with me began to imitate her--which had the unfortunate effect of infuriating her. I heard her say something to the person on the phone about parents with rude children. I waited patiently, then said, "Listen to me carefully. This is not my child. He has been following me. I don't know where his parents are. I don't really care if you provide child care, but I think it would be in everyone's best interests to find his parents at once." I will admit to saying this rather loudly. People were sort of staring. The flustered employee said, "Why didn't you say so in the first place!" and declared a "code Adam" or whatever. Crying mother was found, child and mom were reunited, I left to finish shopping.

Bad thing number four. I had an argument with the weird 30+ old checker man. He said, "Hello, beautiful lady. Did you find everything you were looking for?" I picked up my stuff and headed for the self-check without answering. He said, "Hey, sorry." I said, "Yes, you are." I finished checking out, and as I left, noticed him keeping pace with me. "I'm on break," he said. "Do I know you?" I said. "No, but I wish you did." "Leave me alone. I'm married," I told him. "No ring--that's kind of unfair--how's a guy to know?" he said. "You know now. This is a place to shop, not pick up on people. And at your age, well, maybe you should think about a college degree. Wal-mart checker isn't bound to land you a person like me."

Okay. I was rude. I was disgusting. I should not go shopping when I don't want to. But I ask you, what in heaven's name causes people to approach me like that? I need to stop smiling in the store.

Activities to help one stay awake while driving 5-hours, round trip, to the airport

1. Do not talk on the phone to Tolkien Boy until 1:00 a.m. the night before.
2. Be upset at geriatric father-in-law for scheduling his flight at 9:00 a.m., requiring a departure from home at 5:30 a.m. in order to get him there on time.
3. Take 12- and 13-year old offspring along on the drive.
4. Do not listen to geriatric father-in-law's stories for more than 15 minutes at a time.
5. Try to ignore odd smell of geriatric father-in-law. Spray Febreeze in car-size bottle (which makes me so happy) every 15 minutes.
6. Sing. Don't worry if the words are correct. Just sing. Don't worry if singing bothers geriatric father-in-law. Just sing.
7. Enjoy incredible rush of joy as geriatric father-in-law is dropped off at the curb.
8. Talk with 12- and 13-year-old on the way home. Don't get too upset if the exit to the freeway is missed and one ends up on Tape Avenue.
9. Turn around and search for correct exit.
10. Stop for breakfast.
11. Hug and kiss 12-year-old when she shuts finger in car door.
12. Play the shouting game. Rule: randomly shout out everything you see. Laugh at self for being too tired to make mouth say the things that are seen.
13. Try to make words out of letters on license plates. This will not work if the license plate has only numbers.
14. Remember when 12- and 13-year-old fall asleep that they were up at 4:00 a.m. to deliver newspapers. Resist urge to sing loudly or play the shouting game.
15. Do not close eyes when within 3 miles of home. You will not open them.
16. Go into house and fall in bed. Sleep for four hours.
17. Thank the Lord that a smashed finger was the only casualty.

Dr. Seuss read the New Testament

1 Corinthians 12

"If the foot shall say, Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body?
"And if the ear shall say, Because I am not the eye, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body?
"If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where were the smelling?
"And the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you."

Books by Dr. Seuss inspired by above scripture passages*:

The Foot Book
The Tooth Book
The Eye Book



*Of course I made this all up. But what else is there to do during a boring Sunday School lesson. "Left foot, right foot, left foot, right...Feet in the morning, Feet at night..."

Sex-ed with Tabitha

Warning: If you are not a parent, if you are a male who experiences SSA (read "gay"), if you are uncomfortable talking about sex (especially from a female perspective), my advice is to walk away from this post. There is a possibility that it will not make you happy.

Tabitha and I had the opportunity Tuesday night, to spend a night alone. We booked a hotel room in Utah, and stayed up reading Harry Potter and talking. I've never spent a night with just Tabitha before. We had a very interesting conversation:

Me: This is fun. We've never had a night to ourselves.
Tabitha: No. And actually, I wanted to ask some questions that I've been embarrassed to ask with the boys around.
Me: Ask away.
Tabitha: It's about sex. Is that okay?
Me: Yes. What can I tell you?
Tabitha: Well, I'm confused about how it can happen. I don't understand.
Me: Why don't you tell me the things you do understand, and we'll go from there.
Tabitha: Okay. We've talked about body parts. I understand that the man's penis goes into a woman's vagina. But Mom, I've changed my cousins' diapers. Everything is floppy. How does it happen? And why do people like it?
Me: Let's start with the second question, and I think it will answer the first. How much do you know about your genitals?
Tabitha: Not very much.
Me: Okay, so let's talk about that. I wish we had pictures!
Tabitha: (giggling) Mom!
Me: Sorry. It would make everything easier to visualize, though. Anyway, you know where your vagina is, right?
Tabitha: I think so.
Me: Its the opening between your legs that's about the same diameter as your index finger.
Tabitha: Yes. Mom, how do people wear tampons? It seems like that would hurt.
Me: Not everyone finds that comfortable. Some people have smaller vaginal openings than others.
Tabitha: Do you wear tampons?
Me: No, I've never been able to do that.
Tabitha: So I don't have to?
Me: Nope. Do you have anymore questions about that?
Tabitha: No. Go on.
Me: Well, just in front of your vagina is your urethra--the place you pee. Both of these openings are enclosed by folds of skin made of tissue similar to the inside of your mouth, called labia. These folds of skin protect the vagina and urethra, and are also filled with nerve endings that are sensitive to touch. At the top of your genitals is a small, firm spot called the clitoris. This, too, has many nerve endings that feel nice when they are touched. People like to have sex because it feels good. Does that make sense?
Tabitha: Yep. So, tell me the rest.
Me: All right, now let's talk about boys' genitals.
Tabitha: Okay. Because that's what I'm confused about.
Me: Right. You know what a penis is. Behind the penis is the scrotum which holds the testes, which produce sperm. When boys become mature, their penises become larger and longer. The penis has something called erectile tissue in it. When a man becomes aroused, meaning he feels like he wants to have sex, that tissue fills with blood and the penis becomes larger and firmer. That allows him to insert it into a woman's vagina.
Tabitha: Because it's not floppy anymore.
Me: Yes.
Tabitha: And the parts of us that like to be touched, men have that too?
Me: They do. Sex feels good to them, as well. Tabitha, sex is really a good thing. The reason we tell you to be careful only to experience it with your husband is because during sex there are lots of hormones, special chemicals, released by the body that cause people to feel bonded to each other. This is especially strong for women. Imagine, if you feel very close to someone, you feel he belongs to you (which is what bonding does), and he leaves. Can you see how that would be harmful to you, emotionally?
Tabitha: Yeah. So it's not just about diseases?
Me: No. That's part of it, of course. But mostly, we advise you to be very careful with sexual emotions and touching because it places you in a position where you can be easily hurt. You want to be as certain as possible that you are with a safe person who loves you and will stay with you throughout your life before you have sex with him. That's why we tell you to be married first, and to be very choosy about the person whom you marry. Once you've made sure that the relationship is secure, safe, and long-lasting, then you should have sex as often as you and your husband would like to.
Tabitha: You said you and dad have sex because it helps you stay close to each other, it helps you express love in a way that only you two share.
Me: Yes.
Tabitha: I like that.
Me: Me too.
Tabitha: Do you think that's why Heavenly Father says don't have sex or do sexual things before you're married? He knows about those hormone things and he doesn't want us to get hurt?
Me: I think so, yes.
Tabitha: Okay. We should go to sleep.
Me: I agree.
Tabitha: I love you, Mom.
Me: I love you, too, Tabitha.

A Day Off

Today...
...I will not think about feeling.
...I will not worry about analyzing myself.
...I will not acknowledge things that hurt.
...I will not cry.
...I will not worry about nightmares.
...I will not stress about friendship.
...I will not measure my inadequacies.
...I will not worry about aches, anguish or distress.

Today...
...I will smile.
...I will play with my kids.
...I will take a walk and notice all that is beautiful.
...I will count the ways in which I am blessed.
...I will love without restraint.
...I will laugh whenever I wish to.
...I will ignore the things that haunt me.
...I will be me.

And if you've only met the person who wrestles with inner demons, who is immersed in her own troubles, who can't let go of the past and live in the present...well, today would be a very good day to come visit me. I think you'll like the person you meet. She's a lot of fun and has a wonderful sense of humor. I enjoy her immensely.

Non-sexual Touch

I've been researching this for a few months. It was an assignment Therapist gave me before he left. It's something very difficult for me to read about. I don't like the importance I assign to the topic as it applies to my life. I don't like my need for it. I don't like to even think about it. However, as is my custom, I have finished the task and am posting my research and my conclusions about its application to me.

Lesley Karen Lobell, MA (Specializing in Relationships Therapy):

"Many people are afraid of their need for physical closeness. They fear their need to be touched, and try to deny it. Many people think that, other than with a lover, to demonstrate or receive physical affection is a sign of weakness.

"Many people", so this is not exclusively my fear. And I am afraid of it. I don't like it. Apparently my perception that this need is a sign of weakness is not uncommon either.

"Physical contact is a prerequisite both for a healthy individual, and for a fulfilling, mature, loving relationship with a partner.

Okay, and I understand that in context with my relationship with Darrin. However, I don't seem to be able to comprehend that same need outside my marriage. But perhaps this comment is exclusively aimed at couples who are sexually intimate, and I'm fallaciously globalizing it to include close friendships which have no sexual component.

"Our bodies require touch: it relieves stress; it makes us happier and healthier. In our fast-paced lives, however, we often forget the importance of giving and receiving affection through physical touch. We deprive ourselves of this very basic need."

I've never felt that touch was a requirement. Because I don't like to be touched unless I deeply trust the individual from whom that touch comes, it's difficult for me to assign importance to physical affection. Perhaps that's one reason why I feel incredible stress when the need for non-sexual touch asserts itself.

John Gray, PhD

"As children, both boys and girls want to be cuddled. When boys hit puberty, the desire for sexual contact becomes stronger than for non-sexual contact. Women, on the other hand, may never lose that strong need to be held."

Not exactly a hopeful statement for me to read. Somewhere inside me, there is a desire to fill the need for non-sexual touch in one installment, say that it's done, and never feel the need again. I'm guessing that's not how it works.

Linda Marks, MSM

"When people are touch-deprived, they become numb to the fundamental need to touch and be touched. They become touch-phobic, holding a hypervigilant tension in their bodies, keeping others at an emotional distance, operating from the head for protection while disconnected from the body and heart."

Yes, I can certainly see how that can happen. More than that, I submit myself as living proof.

Sarah (found on a blog):

"With old friends, a physical relationship can spring up. It’s acceptable to give girlfriends hugs, backrubs, stroke their hair. Once a relationship has been founded, physical gestures are not as surprising. But it takes extreme trust before this level of a relationship is reached. Many people never even find a friend like this. They simply go through life at arm’s length, trying to connect through words. Is this physicality necessary for a society so intellectually advanced as ours?"

Naturally, given my orientation and the fact that I'm married, there are probably times when the above mentioned contact is inappropriate. Perhaps that explains why I'm more comfortable allowing/seeking touch from men, specifically SSA men. I don't know. I find this confusing.

Aline Zoldbrod Ph.D:

"The benefits of receiving good touch are lifelong and profound. Children who are appropriately and lovingly touched will feel profoundly loved; they will feel they deserve only good things; they will grow up to experience their body as attractive; they will feel lovable; they will grow up to be able to self soothe; their self esteem will be higher; they will feel safe in the world; and they will feel comfortable expressing their own loving feelings to others through touching. Memories of good parental touch last every minute of a child's life, and these visceral, tactile memories of being so cared for can be called up during times of loneliness, stress, or illness.

Wow. I could go on for hours. I'll just say, I was not a child who received appropriate, loving touch as I should have. I did not experience, and still struggle with:
1. Feeling profoundly loved--by anyone.
2. Feeling I deserve good things.
3. Caring about my body (as shown by my need to use self-harm and my eating disorder).
4. Feeling lovable.
5. Ability to self-soothe (again, I resort to running, overwork, etc.).
6. Self-esteem (this is tricky--I know who I am and what I'm good at, but my self-esteem falters when I try to apply it to how others perceive me).
7. Being safe.
8. Expressing love through touch (if you've had a moment of prolonged touch with me, I trust you and love you very much).
I have extremely few memories of good parental touch. This is something I find incredibly regrettable.

"While you can take courses in massage, (even in erotic massage….), there aren't any courses to teach you how to touch your children as they go through different developmental phases and ages. Yet what could be a better legacy to leave your kids? The simple pleasure of routinely being gently bathed, splashing and having water play, then being tucked into bed, hugged and kissed by a mother or a father is more powerful than a million dollar inheritance.

I have nothing to add to this. I can't change my past.

"My own memories of good times with my parents are heavily weighted to times of verbal and physical affection, and they are vivid. My mother generously linked verbal praise and touch. I recall standing in my house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania as a teenager, wearing a new pale blue flocked dress which set off my green eyes. I was preparing to go out on a date. My mom came up, faced me, took me in her arms, hugged me, and said, "Oh, my angel child." My mom is dead, yet that 40 year old memory still vibrates with feeling. And I always feel beautiful in that color. My father expressed love more by touch than by words. He and I had a ritual of back scratching which lasted throughout our lives. He woke me up for school by scratching my back for years and years. One of my last memories of him, when he was dying of cancer, is lying next to him in bed and scratching his back. The association of back-scratching with love and pleasure and connection permeates my life, and is now a part of my relationship with spouse, friends, and my kids.

Again, nothing to say, except that she was incredibly blessed, in my opinion.

"If you came from a neglectful or abusive home, it can be painful to get in touch with what you didn't have. But it can be a growth point, a way of opening yourself up to feeling more. Think about ways to reach out physically, and pick one which doesn't intimidate you. Handholding, for instance. Then just try it. And even if it feels awkward at first, feel good about yourself for persevering."

Okay, I have a phobia about touching hands. It takes a lot for me to do that, and I'll even avoid a handshake, if possible. It's not about germs or cleanliness. It just seems to be something that I can share only with a person I truly love. In reference to that paragraph, as a whole, I have to say, I am trying. It's a slow process. It takes me a very long time to build the trust necessary to allow someone to touch me, and it takes even longer for me to want to reciprocate that touch. Hugging is not included in this. A hug lasts just a few seconds, and there is relatively no skin-to-skin contact (I love clothes), so I'm able to give the impression that touch has no impact on me when I meet people, since I will usually offer a hug over a handshake.

During a moment when I shared touch with a friend recently, my hand brushed his jaw/cheek. I am interested in how vividly I can recall the sensation. Skin contact is still something I have to steel myself to allow. The aversion comes not because it is distasteful, but because it inspires fear. In the above example, I did not move my hand, but allowed the contact to persist--waiting, I suppose, for the fear to subside, which it did. Perhaps there is hope for me after all.

I suppose to someone who feels less stress in learning about this topic, I seem neurotic and odd. I'm sure they're probably right. I wish I could discuss this with Therapist. I miss him.

It's not about appearing perfect.
It's not about having to be right.
It's not about pleasing people.
It's not about competition.

It's about being afraid.
It's about the feeling that if I lose control someone will take advantage of me.
It's about feeling intense love for others, but having no understanding of how that can possibly be reciprocated in my direction.
It's about hanging on for one more day, doing everything in my power to make sure one good thing happens, being too busy to die inside, and praying for sleep when night comes.

And now you tell me that I must let all that go?
What will happen then?
Must I find out alone?

Tolkien Boy told me that there is One who can take my load, if I will give it to him.

My problem?

I don't care if he knows how I feel.
I don't care if he's suffered all that I've suffered.
I don't care if he can now give me rest.

I wanted him to protect me--and he didn't. I wanted him to stop the abuse--and he didn't. I wanted him to help me somehow--when everything was happening--not millions of years later...

Grown-up Samantha knows how wrong I am. She knows how to have faith, and loves Him with all her heart. She accepts his beautiful sacrifice and understands how it applies to her.

Child Samantha trusts no one. She vividly remembers how much she was hurt, how frightened she was, how sad and lonely... She has learned that she must take care of herself, and never allow anyone to get too close. She does not know how to allow someone to help now, when he did not help when she really needed him.

I am Sam. Both of them. What do I do next?

Tired

There are times when I feel so tired.

This week I made yet another trip to Utah. I took my Father-in-law (who has been visiting us) to see his son-in-law who has been in the hospital in the ICU unit. I left him with his daughter and went to stay with my sweet sister who has allowed me to crash on her couch countless times during my trips to Utah. I love her.

I was tired when we left home. I got more tired as I listened to the stress-filled voices of my in-laws (especially the one belonging to my mother-in-law, who suggested that life would be easier for everyone if her son-in-law just died), so I stayed at my sister's, visited with AtP and Tito, said hello to Ren, spent time with my daughter (who accompanied me), and finished Harry Potter.

I'm still tired after a long drive home (arrived five minutes before I had to leave for a counseling appointment), but at least I'm home. And some of my garden flowers decided not to die. That was a nice surprise to find waiting for me. I love flowers.

Things that are good for me but not easy to do

1. Sleep beyond 5:30 a.m., even if I didn't go to sleep until 3:00 a.m.
2. Breathe while running the seventh mile.
3. Practice two hours of Bach.
4. Stop working before 10:00 p.m.
5. Tell people how I feel, especially when I know they would rather not hear what I have to say.
6. Continue a difficult conversation.
7. Shop with my daughter.
8. Make eye contact with men while conversing with them.
9. Shake hands with people, even if it makes me feel sick.
10. Eat.

Welcome, Welcome, Sabbath Morning

1. Stupid talks in Sacrament Meeting (I'm going to Hell)--the fourth Sunday this month that the topic was America the Beautiful. And while I understand the point of being patriotic occasionally, this is overkill and I just have to say that there are a lot more relevant things to talk about in Sacrament Meeting, like, oh, I don't know, The Gospel of Jesus Christ...or something like that...
2. My son told me it was irreverent to draw stick figure cartoons during talks and said he wasn't going to give me any gum if I didn't stop.
3. My daughter patted my hand and suggested I sit still for a few minutes because I was making her crazy.
4. My other son suggested I go to the bathroom and get a drink of water.
5. I went to my car and slept through Sunday School because something about the teacher makes me want to misbehave in his class.
6. My daughter came to get me for Young Women--except it was the fifth Sunday, so I had to go to Relief Society instead.
7. We talked about pornography in RS. Some stupid man said, "We've done without the internet for thousands of years. We can keep doing without it. There is no reason to have the internet in your home." Stupid, stupid, insane man. I pity his children. They probably won't have electricity or cars either--we've done without them for thousands of years...
8. I told all the pious brothers and sisters that they could put all the locks and safeguards they wanted to on their computers, but if someone in their family wanted to find pornography, he/she would find it. I was booed and hissed.
9. I told all the pious brothers and sisters that people they knew and loved, perhaps even they, themselves, were viewing pornography, and if they thought otherwise they were blind and stupid. More boos and hisses.
10. I told all the pious brothers and sisters that pornography probably would be a little less enticing if, instead of telling their children not to have sex, they talked about things like arousal, orgasms, foreplay, and other sexual body functions, and the ways those wonderful activities are used to draw two people closer together. People reached for the nearest stones.
11. I told all the pious brothers and sisters that men are not the sole viewers of porn and that women are not the sole "victims". Many women view pornography on the internet and if they have daughters, they should be aware of that. It was very quiet in the room. I decided I should probably shut up.
12. I saw my friend from the mentally deranged ward of the hospital. We were happy to see each other and exchanged fond reminiscences of our unfortunate incarcerations.

All in all a pretty distressing Sabbath. Yay.

Phone Call

Jen: Hey Sam, this is Jen.
Me: Wow, I didn't recognize your number. I'm glad you called. It's been awhile.
Jen: Ummm... not that long, really.
Me: Well, it seems a long time.
Jen: You're sweet. Anyway, I wanted to say something about what we were talking about.
Me: Okay, but first, how are you?
Jen: Fine. It's not that big of a deal, really.
Me: How are the kids? Your oldest in is Junior High now?
Jen: Is this Sam?
Me: Yes.
Jen: Samantha Miller?
Me: Oh. No. Is this Jennifer Sims?
Jen: Oh. No.
Me: Wow, sorry. This is weird.
Jen: Yeah. What are the odds?
Me: No idea. Have a nice day?
Jen: You too. I love you.

Long pause....

Me: (giggling) I can't believe you just said that.
Jen: (giggling) I can't either. Well, even if you're not my friend Samantha, I think you'd be a good one.
Me: I think you'd be a good friend, Jennifer, too. Call back anytime.
Jen: I just might do that. Bye!
Me: Bye!

Wrong Answers

For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.
--Henry Louis Mencken

1. My experience is similar to yours and you'll feel better if I tell you about it.
2. In a while you'll be able to put everything behind you and get on with life.
3. Homosexuality is simply an addiction like that of drugs or alcohol and can be dealt with in the same way.
4. Everything in life happens for a reason.
5. You were given trials so you could use them to help others.
6. If you don't dwell on the negative aspects of abuse you'll find the positive.
7. You were abused as a child so that you could be a better parent.
8. In time you'll understand why God let you suffer.
9. You're strong enough to endure whatever challenge you've been blessed with.
10. Only you can decide what your attitude will be and how you will use your pain to bless the lives of others.
11. Nothing is meaningless.
12. You just need to try harder.
13. I'm sure your cousin was hurting as much as you were, in his own way.
14. It probably wasn't as bad as you remember. Otherwise you wouldn't be so well-adjusted.
15. You really are suppressing a vital part of who you are. The day will come when you have to express it and your whole family will be devastated. Your choice to have a family was unwise.
16. You use your belief in God as an excuse to conform to archaic societal norms. You're not helping anyone in doing so, least of all those of us who are trying to affirm who we are and bring about a better way of life and equal rights for those who are gay and lesbian.
17. If you really believed in the Lord and in the atonement, you would no longer feel the pain of your past.
18. You just need more faith.
19. You should confront your cousin and work things out.
20. Your relationships with single men, even if they're gay, are inappropriate. You're married and should concentrate on building that relationship instead of seeking out opportunities to be close to other men.

I appreciate the fact that you believe you can make my life better with your advice and judgments. I must state unequivocally that you are ignorant, insensitive and incorrect.

Final Seminary Moment

I just finished cleaning out my seminary room. I was overwhelmed with memories of joyful mornings with beautiful young men and women, wonderful talks about things spiritual and secular, silly mishaps, fun trivia about each student, sunrises, and breakfast parties. I miss them. Funny thing--it made me cry.

Things that made me laugh today

1. Tabitha made enough oatmeal for everyone in the entire Queerosphere, then insisted that she would eat all of it. I've never seen anyone look quite as sick as she did thirty minutes later.
2. Adam owned up to not changing his underwear for three days because he really likes the color of the pair he's been wearing. And even though I find that horribly disgusting, I also think it's kind of funny.
3. I went to a movie with Tabitha and Annie and slept through most of it. Okay--that made them laugh first, but then I woke up and laughed with them.
4. I ran down a very steep hill. I have no idea why this makes me laugh exultantly, but it does--every time I run down it.
5. Four people called today for George's plumbing. I didn't play with them, but I did laugh when I hung up the phone.
6. Tolkien Boy told me he was not attracted to me. I have no idea why I find this hilarious. Nor do I know why it makes me incredibly happy.
7. I stood outside while it rained softly--it was joyful and delightful--and it made me laugh.
8. Darrin told me the bed was much nicer with me in it. That's just funny.
9. I got some junk mail advertising a sex instruction manual and video--in Spanish. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps it was time to learn how to have sex in a foreign language...I don't even know what that means...
10. DJ hugged and kissed me while I was fixing dinner, and he said he loved me. That's not really funny, but it made me laugh anyway. He laughed with me.

Bugged

1. A couple of weeks ago I started receiving mysterious letters from the IRS. Now, while I'm scrupulous about my clients' tax deadlines, I will admit that last year I filed my return late. I owed money and I was feeling a little unhappy about paying it, so I procrastinated preparing my own return. However, I did file with a nice fat check for the IRS, which they promptly cashed.

About seven letters later, I finally called the IRS to find out what the heck was going on. After two hours on the phone it became clear that whoever was responsible for data transfer at the IRS clearing house in Fresno took the data from my 2005 return and transmitted it as data on my 2006 return (which kept getting rejected when I tried to efile it--now I know why). So now I "owe" increased penalty and interest on the return that I already filed (although I'm going to fight that one, because, after all, they did cash my check), and I have to refile my 2005 return and amend my 2006 return. And I was very calm and collected while talking to the stupid IRS phone rep who couldn't understand line numbers, until he suggested that next year I might want to get some help from a professional tax preparer, at which point I laughed hysterically and said, "I am a professional tax preparer who happened to send in her return lamentably late. The data transfer mistake rests solely with the IRS, and you might want to check the "Occupation" line of the return on your screen before you insult someone for your mistake. And while I understand that you didn't, personally make the first mistake, only you can take credit for the ignorance of the second one!" And while he fumbled around, trying to decide what to say next, I hung up on him.

Three hours later, I have finished my scathing letter to the IRS (which they will most certainly disregard, but which also makes me feel vindicated), amended and finished the paperwork for the stupid re-submissions. Ick!

2. Three weeks ago I planted my garden (thank you all for your wonderful suggestions). This morning it looked gorgeous and smelled wonderful. We planted various flowers, herbs, and tomatoes. I planned to take pictures this afternoon when I had finished working on the tax fiasco. I am posting them here:


Unfortunately, while I was doing the paperwork, a freak storm blew through. Nickel-sized hail, heavy flash flooding, and wind stripped my plants clean. One lone tomato clings to a leafless vine. So much for my garden. Wish I had some "before" pictures. It really was beautiful.

3. My father-in-law is staying with us for a couple of weeks. He has a "treat" that he enjoys daily: Ritz crackers crushed up in coffee with sugar and cream. It looks and smells completely nauseating. He insists on showing it to me each time he makes it. I smile and pretend it doesn't bother me, and hope I don't puke when the smell reaches me.

On the bright side, this morning I ran forever while I watched the sun rise. It felt wonderful.

Things I saw before I went to bed tonight

1. A red fox. It ran across my path while I was jogging. I watched for a few moments. I love foxes.
2. A Mountain Canary. They're so beautiful.
3. A pink and purple sunrise.
4. An incredibly blue sky.
5. A Bald Eagle. There is something amazing about watching them fly.
6. A half moon, haloed and glowing as it floats through black clouds.
7. My children and husband, sleeping.

Something I wish had not happened

1. My bishop met with me for an update on my mental health. I assured him I'm not as crazy as my doctors say I am.
2. He told me that my non-acceptance of the RS president calling last year was one of the best things I've ever done for the ward. Thanks, Bishop.
3. He told me that he was sure I'd continue to make progress toward putting everything behind me. Funny, I didn't know that was the goal. If I had, I never would have entered counseling in the first place. I've been "putting everything behind me" for many years.
4. He told me that one day I'd be grateful for all that I've gone through and would see a great purpose behind it. Then he made the unfortunate mistake of comparing my experience to one he had years ago, in which he lost much of his right hand in an accident. He kept talking about how painful that was, but how he's had so many opportunities to help others because of what he learned through the misfortune. The metaphorical application, in my mind was inaccurate and insensitive.
5. I became angry. When I could no longer listen to what I felt amounted to denigration, I finally told him that he could be right. Someday I might get over the fact that when I was eleven and helpless, an older person raped me repeatedly, night after night, with more imagination about how to cause pain than one person ought to have. I said that when I finally finished paying for his acts--monetarily, because I was never able to carry a baby to term, physically, because my body will never be normal, and emotionally, because obviously, I'm still working through the aftermath--I might consider how the crap I've been through will be helpful to others, if I'm not dead first. Then I told him I wasn't even close to considering a mission in sainthood because for years I didn't believe that God could exist--because no God would allow a little girl to go through what I went through, no God would allow her to be hurt and tired and confused, and yet left alone to change and wash herself and clean up the mess left behind--unknown fluids mingling with her own blood--so that at some point she would be able to sleep...
6. I cried. I've never cried before in front of him.
7. I've never seen him look so horrified.
8. He apologized for being insensitive and for making me cry. He said he had no idea how much I'd been through, or that the abuse had been so extensive. I said that even if it had only happened one time, even if he considered the abuse "mild", each person heals at his/her own rate. It was not up to him to issue a time-table or to tell that person how to feel about the abuse in the end. He apologized again and thanked me for "setting [him] straight."
9. I feel terrible that I screamed at my bishop, who was only trying to help me.
10. Somehow, it seems that no matter how much I talk, no matter what I say, the people around me view this whole thing I'm going through as a tiny step that I'm afraid to take, but that when I finally stop being a coward and take it, all that bothers me will disappear in a puff of smoke, and life will be perfect.
11. One day I will be able to look at my past without feeling that I'm being strangled. One day I will be able to talk about what has happened with the knowledge that it does not make me less of a human being. One day I will be able to manage emotions, not avoid them. One day people will love me even if I never forget, don't "put it behind me", but instead, learn to live my life beautifully while accepting the fact that something horrific and life-shattering happened to me, and I survived.

Shopping with DJ

DJ: SICK!! That guy just checked you out and smiled at you!
Me: Yes, so?
DJ: SICK!! You smiled back at him!
Me: DJ, people look at each other and smile at each other all the time. That cute girl over there just checked you out.
DJ: SICK!! You're not supposed to notice that! You're my MOM!! Besides it's okay if she checks me out. I'm kind of hot.
Me: Okay. But remember the source of half your gene pool, oh Hot One.
DJ: Well, even if you're half as hot as I am, that guy is way younger than you are. By the way, he's still looking at you--stop smiling at him!
Me: DJ, this is not a sexy smile, this is a friendly smile, and I smile at everyone.
DJ: SICK!! You said sexy in public.
Me: You know, DJ, this kind of thing seems to bother you more as you get older. I think it would bother a normal person less.
DJ: Normal people's moms are different from mine.
Me: I'm going to pretend that's a compliment.
DJ: SICK!! That guy that just passed us just checked you out! And you smiled at him, too! I can't take you anywhere!
Me: Fine, I'll drive next time.
DJ: Okay.

Taking care of business...

My counselor instructed me to journal about my experiences as I allow myself to feel emotions. She told me to be explicit--to talk about the things I think about, the connections I make, the feelings and resulting responses. So I am doing that--but not here. In that journal, I will discuss things that can be uncomfortable, things that not everyone will want to read. I want to keep these things separate from this blog. I want them to be in a place all their own so that only those who wish to will encounter them. If you are one of those, I have placed a link on my sidebar (compulsive whining) which will take you to my journal.

This is an interesting step for me. Normally I would place these things in a super-secret blog and allow no one to read it. My counselor suggested that I might feel better if I stopped hiding the things that embarrass me or make me uncomfortable. She said that, regardless of whether people respond or not, and regardless of whether such response was positive or negative, I would feel that I have shown myself as I am, and that I would worry no more about presenting myself as people expect me--while at the same time being afraid that they might discover who I really am and reject me.

So, I'm taking her advice. We'll see what happens next.

Humility

Yesterday I made my decision. I will do as my counselor has said.

I met with a couple of friends and had a long talk with Darrin. I suppose my hope was to build some sort of physically present support system. I think the results were as good as can be expected. One friend indicated that she was supportive and empathetic--then she helped me understand that her life was fairly busy right now, but she was sure if I gave her some advance notice she could pencil me in if I needed to talk. The other friend said that she felt what I was doing (i.e. allowing myself to feel the emotions from my past) was a really good step, and that I'd find it wasn't really a big deal. She said I'd probably not need any support, because feeling emotions was a natural thing--everyone does it. Then she listed all the things I do well, and said she was certain this would be a breeze for me. Then her phone rang and our conversation was over. Darrin was concerned that the timing for this is bad. He's right. My Father-in-law is coming for a 2-week visit on Tuesday night. Darrin also has reservations about the necessity of doing this at all and is concerned that I might become overwhelmed to the point that I can't cope. He also indicated that he's not sure he can be available for me when I need him.

So my support system is "iffy" at best. It really doesn't matter, however. I've decided that I'm tired of living each day, carefully watching for something I might feel that will make me uncomfortable, and using all my efforts to push that away. I'm too tired to do that anymore. Some of you who have been with me in the past two weeks have been the recipients of inappropriate comments I've made in reference to being raped by my cousin. The comments have been unsolicited, compulsive, random, and rude. I'm realizing that my ability to suppress my feelings at any given time is diminishing, and that at some point I will express them in some way. If I don't deal with my need to work through the feelings in a positive way, they will expose themselves unexpectedly and without my permission. Regardless of convenience, it's time for me to do this.

If you were unfortunate enough to chat with me last night and early this morning, I probably asked you to not talk to me about my feelings over the next few days. My thought was that I really don't need anyone. I can acknowledge the feelings, analyze them, give them permission to stay and even cry about them without help. And there's nothing anyone can do anyway. If I'm miserable, that's sort of the point--to allow myself to feel miserable without devaluing the feelings causing the pain or insisting those feelings leave. And in my case, misery truly does not love company. I feel a deep need to be very private about this. I suppose part of that stems from knowing that if someone asks what I'm feeling or what I need, I won't be able to give adequate expression to help them understand. But probably the most honest reaction I'm feeling about going through this fun exercise, is that I'm embarrassed that I feel the things I do, because it makes me feel tremendously weak, and I don't wish anyone to know about that.

I was up most of the night last night establishing a framework for what will come. I was envious of those of you enjoying your midnight Harry Potter parties. That would have been much more fun. I practiced analyzing the emotions of a few with whom I was chatting, until one of you pointed out that it's a little uncomfortable for you when I do that. Then I apologized to the others (at least I hope I did). But I learned a lot about how you allow emotions to stay, how you feel them, and it was interesting that many of you don't think twice about the emotions and rarely, if ever, qualify those feelings in any way. So I beg your forgiveness, once again, but also thank you for sharing with me. It was helpful. It's from that information that I was able to understand the methods I use for shutting emotions down, and I think I can circumvent the process now.

Things I must do in order to allow the emotions to stay:
1. Acknowledge what I'm feeling--name the emotion.
2. Notice if there are other accompanying feelings.
3. Decide if the emotion is related to a present or past event.
4. Understand if the feeling is directed toward a person, and think about why I would feel that way about him/her.
5. Do not qualify the emotion in any way.
6. Allow any physical response that may accompany the emotion, to take place.
7. Write about the feelings. Create a tangible record.
8. Allow the feeling to be resolved. This may take several occurrences of the feeling before catharsis can happen.
9. Do not use the feelings to define anything about me. Remember that they are normal responses to events or people.
10. Pray for all the strength I can get because this is really gonna hurt.

At about 4:30 this morning I recognized that there are some things I wish for, in conjunction with this "feelings" thing, that won't happen. I wish there was a person who would be able to sit with me while I cry, who won't feel helpless or feel a need to make things better. One who will understand that it's okay for me to feel awful right now. I wish I could go through this without crying at all, because I hate that--but my counselor pointed out that I need to allow myself to cry and I suppose she's right. I wish I didn't feel alone.

So I'm rescinding my request. If I asked you not to talk to me about this, please pretend I didn't. I still may not be able to answer you. I may not be able to say anything at all. If I don't answer, I'm not avoiding or ignoring you. But please talk to me anyway, because I think I might need some help--even if it's just expressed interest from people I love. So I suppose I'm asking for anyone who loves me to just help me understand that what I'm doing is okay, and it won't make you think less of me if I ache and cry. I guess I'm saying that I need you and I don't want to be alone. And I'm really, really scared. And this sucks.

I hate this.

Her: Would it be safe to say that you feel, no matter how much work you've done, you keep ending up in the same place?
Me: Maybe.
Her: Why do you think that is?
Me: Because I'm a masochist.
Her: Try again?
Me: I know why. I don't want to say it.
Her: Why?
Me: Because it sucks that I'm still here.
Her: Saying what the problem is won't make that any worse.
Me: I know. I still don't want to.
Her: Okay.
Me: Look, I've done this. I been over and over the abuse crap. I don't want to do it anymore.
Her: I believe you've done a great deal. And you're right--it sucks and it hurts. But you're not finished.
Me: Why? I want to be finished.
Her: You keep saying that. It's not something you just choose. When you talk about things that hurt, sometimes you cry a little, but you don't allow yourself to stay there. You shut it down, laugh a bit, and try to move forward. That's what's holding you back.
Me: The fact that I'm trying to move forward? That makes no sense.
Her: Because you believe you can solve this while avoiding anything that makes you uncomfortable. You've been avoiding emotions, fairly successfully, I might add, for most of your life. But they're still there. And they're tired of being ignored.
Me: I really don't understand what you're saying.
Her: Partly because it makes you uncomfortable. But you've made some good observations today. You didn't admit, in the beginning, that you actually told your cousin to stop hurting you. You didn't admit that because in your eyes, it made you feel weak. Only now, when you've accepted the fact that, physically, a tiny girl has no defense against a well-built teen, especially one for whom she felt friendship and love, are you able to admit that he ignored your efforts to stop him. But as you speak of this, I see many emotions flowing from you, and you stop them before they are expressed.
Me: I don't know how to express them.
Her: Sometimes you just need to allow them to be. Tell me one of the strongest feelings you experience regularly, but shut down because it's uncomfortable.
Me: I don't want to.
Her: Okay. I understand that even talking about it can be stressful.
Me: I suppose loneliness. But that's stupid, because I'm the last person in the world who should be lonely. I have a hugely supportive and present husband, my kids are also very supportive. I have people online or in person who will talk to me. I have no reason to feel lonely.
Her: Good. So when the emotion comes, rather than telling yourself that you have no right to feel it, I think you should try letting it just be.
Me: No.
Her: Why?
Me: That's miserable. I have better things to do.
Her: Emotions are interesting things. They usually bring some sort of message to us. It's good to try to figure out what our emotions are trying to tell us.
Me: I don't know how to do that.
Her: Well, this might sound silly, but some people write a letter to the emotion: Dear Loneliness, I'm feeling you more often lately. When you come I also feel (name emotion) and (name any other emotions that might be in attendance). Another time I felt you in my life was when (describe event)....
Me: (laughing) No.
Her: Too abstract?
Me: Definitely.
Her: Well, the more practical way to do this is simply to pick the feeling apart. Talk about contributing factors, accompanying emotions, past events that brought forth the emotion. You can even chart it if that makes you feel safer. But the point is that you need to notice that you're feeling it and then give yourself permission to feel and to try to understand. Pushing the emotion away will only ensure that it reasserts itself repeatedly.
Me: I don't want to feel these things.
Her: I know.
Me: I have to do this?
Her: At some point, yes, I think you do. You can choose if it's now or later. But you also keep saying you want to be finished, as if you can just leap from the starting point to the finish line. That's not how it works. There are no short-cuts.
Me: It's going to hurt.
Her: Probably. But you're very strong. I think you can do this.
Me: I think I'll go now.
Her: Okay.

Recommended reading: The Courage to Heal, Bass and Davis

Concerned Interest

I have a counseling appointment today.

I've been trying to understand why I don't like this therapist. I thought at first, that I was unfairly comparing her to Therapist, but I'm realizing that's not it. Tolkien Boy said something to me today that helped me understand what bothers me about visiting with her. He said: I'm... interested in how you're feeling. There is no further involvement in this post pertaining to Tolkien Boy. I'm saying this because the following remarks have nothing to do with him, my feelings about him, or our friendship. He simply made a comment that helped some things I've been wondering about click into place.

Interest--this is what bothers me. I've often had people interested in me. Clinical interest is good and proper, especially in a therapeutic setting. But my problem is that I think I've had enough. The therapist is "interested" in things that are deeply upsetting and personal to me, and I'm tired of sharing those things with people who barely know me, who will forget about me five minutes after I leave their offices, who are only interested because I pay them by the hour to tell me what a bad lot life has dealt me, and then tell me to carry on doing the things I've been doing because they don't know what to tell me next. I don't want "interest" anymore.

I want someone to say (s)he cares about how I'm feeling. I understand this is completely inappropriate in a therapy session. But I always felt that Therapist cared. I knew he didn't. I was very aware that I was deluding myself. But it felt like he cared. It felt as though what I said was important. I was willing to share anything with him because I knew it would help me find peace--but mostly because I felt that he really wanted to hear what I said because he cared about me. I know, that was a silly thing for me to feel. Nonetheless, I made more progress with Therapist than I thought possible, and I believe it was because I felt safe with him, and because I felt that I was more than a science project, social anomaly, or favorite pet.

So, today I get to go sit through another hour of verbal dance with my new therapist. And I'll walk away wishing I hadn't gone. I'll wish I could trust her. I'll wish I dared to really tell her what's hurting me. I'll wish she could pretend to be more than just interested. I'll wish that she could care about me...

So, if you ever ask me a question, and I dodge it, now you know why. I'm not sure if the question is asked in polite human interest, or if by some miracle, you care--not about the answer, but about me.

I really don't want to go to my counseling appointment.

What's For Dinner? - The Muppet Show

A departure from the norm

WARNING: Possibly sexually explicit (probably not, but when I post that warning, I find the Google searches that show up on my visitor stats rather hilarious)

A long time ago, my favorite superhero of all time, The Great -L-, asked me if I was "THE ONE." Naturally, I said yes, because I truly do believe I am "THE ONE." However, as it turns out, he and I were speaking of completely different things. Had I read his blog (Keep Changing: A Gay Mormon Journey--have you noticed, -L-, how many times I've plugged you here? And I know the answer is "NO" because you never visit anymore), I would have realized he was speaking of the gay person who has become straight, "THE ONE" who has become fully attracted to the opposite sex, "THE ONE" who wishes only for platonic same-gender relationships. Although I still firmly believe that I am "THE ONE" in my own context (i.e. the most friendly blogger, the most fun Scrabble player, the person who can chat the longest, the youngest looking eighty-year-old, the best memorized-recipe-cookie-baker, the best ex-seminary-teacher-tax-preparer-financial-advisor-bishop's-wife-musician-therapy-junkie-non-blue-food-eater...come on, you guys, admit it--you think I'm "THE ONE", too), I had to concede in my most humble way, that I was indeed, not "THE ONE."

I admitted to a friend this weekend that I thought a mutual friend of ours (whom we had both just met) was absolutely adorable (and if you're reading this, no, it's not you. I purposely chose for an example one who would never read my blog). She was funny and cute and...okay, the purpose is not to go on and on, simply to note that I thought she was adorable, which I've already done. However, the point is that while I still feel attraction to other people, I don't feel overwhelmed by it, nor is it a super-human effort to avoid fantasizing. In fact, I would say that after years of practice, I acknowledge those whom I feel are "adorable" and move on. There are several reasons for this:
1. I love and respect Darrin with all my heart. Regardless of any natural inclinations, he is my husband and my partner. I would never betray his trust or demean his love in any way.
2. It's way too much trouble for me dwell on things I really don't want, especially when having those things would mean the sacrifice of so many things that make up my value system and, well, me (which, of course, contributes to the fact that I believe I really am "THE ONE", even if that means something different from what the resident superhero believes it means).
3. I have true love. I have someone who wants to be with me forever (I know!! Absolutely mind-boggling!! But true!!), and the cool thing about that is that I want to be with him, as well (those of you who have witnessed us together just can't imagine me without him, can you?). Why would I ever give that up?? The truth: I never could.
4. Sigh...I'm well beyond my prime. No adorable woman wants someone my age, and I know that (but I will love Beautiful Swan forever and ever and ever, for saying that I'm beautiful and alluring--and I really don't care if that's coming from a gay guy! I intend to believe he was being sincere).
5. Bottom line--I have what I want. And I never want to lose it.

Okay, I admit that there might be something I'm missing. I admit that sometimes there are things that only a woman can understand about me. I admit that sometimes I hate wishing Darrin's mustache didn't poke me when I kissed him--HOWEVER--I also admit that I love being with him every night (Darrin, I really missed you when I was in Utah), that he's one of the best dads in the whole world, and there is no one else who allows me to be who I am in any instance, loves me in spite of me, and still wants to have sex (HAH!! the warning is hereby justified!) with me even though I'm ancient--and I think he'll probably still feel the same way about me when I'm 20 years older and almost dead. And the bottom line is that no marriage or coupling is perfect, which is sort of the beauty in all of it. You get to work together to make common ground and learn to love each other every day. I really like that.

So...no, I haven't changed my orientation. I'm not "THE ONE" in the context of my favorite superhero. But I am "THE ONE" when it comes to Darrin and he is "THE ONE" for me. And this post is also "THE ONE" because it is cheesy sentimental drivel, which I so rarely write. Enjoy it, because it may the "THE ONLY ONE" I ever write.

By the way, even if -L- disagrees with me, I'm still believing that I'm "THE ONE." I don't really know what that means, but I refuse to be dissuaded.

I've come a long way, baby...

Last night I was supposed to check into a hotel and come home this morning. For whatever reason, around 10:30 last night, I just wanted to go home. I didn't want to stay in a hotel or sleep in someone else's home. I wanted to be with my family. It was stupid. About 15 miles outside of Evanston, Wyoming, I started feeling ill. I'd been having blood sugar issues the whole day, but didn't feel like addressing them. At that point they refused to be ignored. I started feeling faint, so I pulled over and waited for that to pass. Instead I was overwhelmed with nausea. I emptied my stomach of the one meal I'd eaten and lay in my car until I could drive again. I made it to Evanston, checked into a hotel, lay down in my room and I have no other memory until around 6:00 this morning. At that point I woke up feeling much better, fed myself, went for a run and got ready to drive again.

Whenever I travel alone I have lots of time to think. I realized on my drive home that there are still many things that I avoid thinking about. I tried to decide what the biggest reason is for avoidance. I came up with these:
1. They make me feel sad.
2. They make me feel weak.
3. They make me feel vulnerable.
4. They frighten me.
5. They make me feel abandoned, rejected, lonely, or horrified.
I believe these are all very good reasons to avoid thinking...but then I realized that the most honest reason for avoidance is that I'm still ashamed that I have a past which includes the events I'm trying to forget. After all this time I still feel guilt that they are there.

It aggravates me that I still have to work to get past the feelings of shame. It was difficult when I was working toward resolving past events in which I was abused. Logically, I could see that I was ultimately not responsible, but it still took some time for that logic to work its way into my heart. But now I'm dealing with the feelings and deficits that remain, and it seems harder not to assign blame to myself because I somehow believe that if I don't take responsibility for what I feel, I will lose control of my life.

Also, there are too many parts of my past life that I wish I could change. I know I can't, which simply adds more frustration.

In spite of all this, I'm also realizing I actually have made progress over the past year, and given time, I can make my way through the newest appearance of yuck in my life. I don't want to, of course, but for whatever reason I'm feeling stronger today, and I think I'm going to be okay. Someday I want to be able to look at the events that still haunt me, the deficits in my needs, the things that make me feel less than human, without shame or guilt. Someday I want to be able to talk about them without feeling that I'll be abandoned and rejected. Someday I want to be stronger and better, and I really want to stop hiding. Until then, bear with me...at least today I know what I want...I'm miles ahead of where I was this time last year...

For Attempting the Path

I found AtP's blog in April 2006. I read for about a month, then I finally began commenting. In general, if I comment more than once on your blog it's because of at least one of the following reasons:
1. I like your writing style.
2. You've commented on mine regularly.
3. I'm interested by what you have to say.

If I haven't commented on your blog, but one of those reasons apply it's because of one of the following reasons:
1. I'm backed up at work and am not currently browsing blogs.
2. I haven't decided if I'm comfortable with you yet.
3. Everything I wanted to say was already said by another commenter.
4. I'm pretty sure what I say will be offensive to you.

AtP's blog was unpretentious and largely conversational. He has a way of making you feel that he's actually speaking to you. There's little editing and the occasional typos that find their way in seem to add character rather than annoyance. Also, you can tell a lot about a person if you analyze their typos.

I was charmed by what this young man had to say, so when he began reciprocating my visits, I was somewhat alarmed. At that point my blog was uncensored and had many extremely personal posts about my counseling visits, people I know, even my sex life. I was sort of amazed that he was able to read through those and not only emerge unscathed, but still continued to visit. As time went on and more people began visiting, I moved many of the posts to a different blog and closed it.

AtP and I began emailing in early July of 2006. I was even more charmed by him as our personal correspondence evolved to the chat venue. By August I knew I wanted to meet him, and in September I finally did. He has the distinction of being the first blogger/online friend that I have ever met in person (Well, technically, I met Smurf and Pinetree first, because AtP and I ate at the restaurant where they worked. But I didn't really meet them until the next day). I have the distinction of being the oldest blogger/online friend that he has ever met in person. One might think we would have nothing in common--and I suppose that's possible--all I know is that I have loved being with AtP from the first time we met for dinner, and that his presence and friendship bless my life. I love him.

Tomorrow is AtP's birthday. I am leaving for another trip today, so I am posting this a day early because I definitely want it to be on my blog when his day arrives.

Ten things I adore about AtP:
1. He can laugh at just about anything.
2. Sometimes he reads my mind.
3. He has an amazing smile.
4. He gives really wonderful hugs.
5. He has empathy for others.
6. When he tells me he loves me, I believe him.
7. He listens even when I'm being dramatic and unreasonable.
8. He doesn't seem to understand that I'm ancient.
9. He lets me be myself. When I am with him, I can be spiritual, silly, serious. It's all good.
10. He brings beauty to my life because he is beautiful inside and out.

I love you, AtP. I hope your birthday is wonderful and memorable--just like you!