Maybe I should have just kept pretending to be a Christian. You know, for the rest of my life. Because lying forever can’t possibly go wrong.Read More
This is a conversation I don’t know how to have.
How do I write about no longer identifying as a Christian in a way that won’t turn my entire world upside down?
I guess I’m doing it something like this. But I’m not holding onto hope for keeping my world aright.
The language of Christianity is still my mother tongue. The culture of Christianity is still my hometown. I don’t know anything else.
This is a strange place for me to be.Read More
There is so much I want to say. So much I want to talk about, share, unload from the heaviness of my heart and dredge up from the murkiness of the swirling waters of thoughts in my head. There are people who have contacted me that I want to respond to.
But all I can really muster is silence.Read More
You don’t have to be okay.
You’re allowed to be sad.
You’re allowed to cry.
You’re allowed to be overwhelmed.
It’s okay. Really.
Not being okay is okay sometimes.
You don’t owe happiness to people when you don’t feel it.
You don’t owe happiness to people at the expense of your emotional and mental and spiritual health.
It’s okay to take care of you, and sometimes that looks like not being okay.Read More
These cultures, these systems of thought, are pervasive. Good people with good intentions perpetuate these systems unknowingly without understanding the consequences.
But these systems do have consequences.Read More
Neither being fat nor being female is shameful. My feminine body doesn’t have the magical mythical ability to strip away the logical thought-processes of men, making them into helpless hormone-driven apes. My fat body is still my body, and it’s my vehicle in this life. It doesn’t belong to anyone else for their commentary, critique, or approval. It belongs to me. It harms no one.
These concepts may seem really simple and obvious. But I’ve struggled with them subconsciously for all of my life. And as I sit here in my skinny jeans and fitted top, for the first time in my life I am fat, female, and unashamed.Read More
What’s so wrong with attention? Does my wasting body not tell you about my wasting soul? Do the scars on my arms and legs not tell you about the scars on my soul? For the girl with the words, the girl who was going to write books some day, I never ever had the words for the pain. And I still don’t, even though I’ve long left the starving and cutting.Read More
Trigger warning: sexual assault, rape.
When someone tells you that they have been sexually assaulted, harassed, molested, raped, or anything of the sort, the proper response is to say, “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault. What happened to you was reprehensible, and no one should be forced to go through that. What can I do to be there for you? Do you want to report it to the police? I will be with you every step of the way, no matter what you do. You’re not alone.”
If you have any doubts about whether or not they are telling the truth, the proper response is still the same as the above. Do not voice your lack of concern. Do not voice or otherwise show your incredulity. Be nothing short of supportive.Read More
Remember the days where I wrote on here somewhat regularly? I mean, they were the early-to-mid 2010’s, and blogging has certainly gone by the wayside as of the past…like…what is it, 3 – 4 years now? I didn’t stop writing because the trend began dying down, though. I stopped writing because of TRAUMA *throws glitter bomb* While I do still post on…Read More
Welcome to the new site in all its work-in-progress glory. Let’s talk about some stuff, like why there’s a new site in the first place and what you can expect from me moving forward.Read More
This Saturday, April 22, I will turn 30 years old. (Want to help me celebrate?)
Frankly, this terrifies me.
All my life, I never envisioned myself living past the age of 28. I figured that either the rapture would have occurred, or I would have killed myself. So you’d think 29 would have been my all-out panic year, but I spent 29 dealing with a lot of other things.
Now, with 30 at my doorstep, I’m caught in its headlights, awaiting its impact with an ever-increasing sense of dread.Read More
I’ve been sitting here for a good 10 minutes, just staring at the screen. Occasionally typing a sentence or two, then deleting. The words I want to say aren’t words I feel I can say yet, and so I choose to be silent. Much like I have most of this year, if you’ve noticed. On January 18, I left my husband. There’s much that…Read More
My brain is spinning with thoughts and conversations over the past weeks, the culmination of almost a year’s worth of introspection and mourning. “I looked through the journal section of your blog and noticed you haven’t really written lately,” a friend noted. No. I haven’t. I’ve been afraid, frankly. With some good reason and probably with some over-reaction.…Read More
I’m spending a lot of time just sort of sitting with myself. What do I want? What do I think? What am I willing to give, or ask for? Why? Am I just trying to placate others for my own comfort and ease of anxiety, or is this something I’m genuinely willing to agree to or compromise on? If so, why?Read More
I could explain my thought processes for every step of these various journeys. I’m very prone to explaining and dissecting and hoping beyond hope that I can just <i>make you see why and how,</i> make you see cause and effect, connect dots for you, connect dots for me. I want to feel justified, validated. I don’t want to be The Bad Guy. I don’t want to accept that to so many, I am petulant and over-sharing and running away from problems that could be fixed if I would just try harder. But I can’t change, even if I tried. Even if I wanted to.* And so…here I sit. The Bad Guy. It’s not comfortable. I don’t like it. But if this is who I have to be in order to be <i>me</i>, then so be it.Read More
These are such small things. Such little victories. What right have I to celebrate them?
The same right I have to celebrate the victories of all of my friends and family who deal with chronic illnesses, physical and mental. Small victories are victories. Medication that allows me to escape the never-ending cycle of panic is useful. Wrapping myself in soft, warm cloth is calming and soothing. Touching my skin and putting makeup on with gentle, loving hands is crucial on days where I struggle to love myself. Such a short amount of time of my day, and yet now I am calm. I can think. I am okay.
Celebrate the little victories. Always, celebrate the little victories.Read More
You are so young. I am so young. We have much to learn, you and I, twelve years apart and still growing.
But in the face of all of the unknowable, unsearchable future, let’s you and I promise to always choose love — for ourselves, for others. We’ll find our way from there.Read More