Being Christian and Queer-Revisited

I’ve examined in some of my posts how I’ve missed my church since my whole debacle began. As I’ve alluded to, two of my biggest stumbling blocks to returning is (a) being around a group of people [thanks to my borderline personality disorder-BPD] and (b) how to explain my continued absence since being involuntarily committed due to my suicide attempt seven weeks ago.

When I attended a previous church, also an Assemblies of God, it was inherently homophobic because it preached, as they say, the full gospel—meaning that the Bible is the word of God chapter and verse. I was new to my relationship with God, and under the pastor’s teaching (at this point I had not been hit with those legendary homophobic clobber verses) I watched my relation with God grow immeasurably: it was close and personal—something I had never experienced before. My heart and spirit was full. Having been raised as a Roman Catholic when I was a child and teenager, I never got this.

I am not a theologian, but as I began to read the Bible, when I got to Leviticus 20, I continued to read all those laws set forth by God. So many of these “laws” had since been dismissed as we migrated to modern times [e.g., verse 10: “If a man commits adultery with his neighbour’s wife, both the man and the woman who have committed adultery must be put to death.” (NLT)]. I read that with a grain of salt as today adulterers are merely given a pass for a divorce. So, when I got to verse 13 “If a man practices homosexuality, having sex with another man as with a woman, both men have committed a detestable act. They must both be put to death, for they are guilty of a capital offense.” (NLT) I took this verse equally with a grain of salt. I am a lesbian and did not feel compelled to fall upon my sword, as it were.

Then this particular preacher, one Sunday, spent his whole sermon on why homosexuality was the worst sin in the bible. I was truly taken aback by his statement. Aside from quoting the verse in Leviticus, he did not proffer any specific verses that backed up what he said. I was enraged. After the service, I challenged him. I asked him to refer to the specific scripture that said that (because I never read that despite reading through various translations). He wanted to avoid this conversation with me totally, but I countered with reminding him that he always said that the Bible would prove its own truth. Again, I challenged him to point out where in the Bible was that specifically quoted and he hemmed and hawed. I told him, according to the Bible in Revelations 21:8 “But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.” (NKJV). Nowhere did it say that only the homosexuals would burn in this lake of fire, and even pointed out that the sexually immoral were not even listed first! He could not respond and just walked away and greeted other members.

Well, my identity as a lesbian was then outed and I was essentially shown the door unless I repented of my sins and turned from my evil ways—translation: become celibate. That only harkened back memories of the nightmares I had read on reparative therapy where there were retreats gays and lesbians could attend to be “cured” of their homosexuality (Exodus International comes to mind). Being a lesbian is who I am, not what I chose to be. I did not have something from which to be “cured.” I was incensed that there was this organisation whose primary focus was to brainwash these unsuspecting attendees.

As a result, I left this church. I also remember being angry with God for allowing His word to be selectively be taken out of context on this one particular verse. If the other verses throughout Leviticus had for the most part been dismissed as being a product of the times (e.g., not mixing clothes of mixed fabric and all of the dietary laws), why was this solitary verse being held accountable? As the times progressed and gay rights became the new poison pill upon which many political platforms were based (the new litmus test as abortion rights were before then), I saw how the war against gay rights was being funded and waged by so called Christian fundamentalists. Gay rights (or the lack thereof) were being slammed left and right from statehood amendments on same-sex marriages, employment discrimination (there are 29 states where it is legal to fire someone who is gay), to housing statutes, and economic parity through health insurance, not to even begin to mention how partners are treated when one of them is in the hospital and are denied visitation rights or not allowed to carry out the final wishes.

I became an ardent political activist lending my voice where it counted to fight these so-called arbitrary arguments. I live in the buckle of the Bible belt where churches are like gas stations—there is one on every corner. I had plenty of opportunities and venues to lend my voice to counter these fundamentalists. I still remember how I was treated in a discount chain store while wearing my equal rights t-shirt on the banner of the rainbow flag. I was bible-thumped from quite a few people (“shame on you,” “your kind will burn in hell,” etc.). I would not be reduced to their fanaticism and merely walked away from most of them. I was, however, trapped while standing in the cashier’s lane. The couple behind me started preaching to me to repent of my evil ways as all eyes were on me. You could hear a pin drop. At first I was not going to say anything (anything I could have said would only fall on deaf ears anyway), but the cashier smiled at me and said, “You aren’t going to let them get away with that crap, are you?” So I looked at this couple and calmly said that, while I respected that they had a right to their own opinion, this was one area that that we would have to agree to disagree—no rhetoric on my part. However, that did silence them.

During this intervening time, I met my then partner and I continued to wage my war. I was quite surprised to learn that she went to church. I asked her where could she possibly go without encountering what I had experienced and she told me all about the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) that primarily caters to lesbian, gay, bi-sexual and transgendered persons (LGBT). Sorely missing my connection to God and the community of fellowship, I eagerly started attending with her. However, my spirit was not fed here. It was static and ritualistic and there didn’t seem to be any room for the Spirit to move. I continued to go with her for the duration of our partnership, but when that ended, I no longer attended.

I moved to a different area of town and laughingly I noticed there was a church right across the street from me. Being new to the neighbourhood, one of my neighbours left a beautiful potted plant on my front porch with a nice note welcoming me to the neighbourhood. This level of hospitality, I thought, had all gone the way of other pleasant Southern ways with everyone too busy with their jobs and lives. I walked over to thank her and we had a nice conversation. There was no doubt that I was a lesbian when we met from the bumper stickers on my car to the t-shirt I was wearing, but that did not seem to phase her. Then she cordially asked me if I attended a church (my warning signals were piqued at this point) and told her no and recounted my experience with my first pastor. She thought that story was horrible and invited me to attend their church’s fall picnic. When I reminder her that I was a lesbian, she didn’t care, said that her pastor was open-minded, and that I would not be judged. Therefore, I told her I would attend with full expectation to talk to the pastor at the outset and inform him that I was a lesbian. He didn’t seem to bat an eyelash and told me that I would be welcome at his church, but he did say this one thing, that he did preach the whole Bible and said that he did think homosexuality was a sin. But I was welcomed just the same as in “Whosoever….” We agreed to disagree and he told me that his congregation wouldn’t judge me.

At this point, I had missed my relationship with God, not because I had walked away in the intervening years, but I had missed hearing God’s word being preached and the fellowship of other believers. Being the butch that I am, when I dressed up for church I wore a coat and tie even amidst those that wore blue jeans and t-shirts. I liked his style of preaching and everything he said resonated deeply within me. I felt for the first time that I had found a church home. There were times after the services where the pastor and I would get involved in conversations about my homosexuality and he just smiled and told me that he always appreciated my honesty, and felt that I had contributed to his knowledge base as he had never had the chance to really get to know someone who was gay, and thought that our conversations were refreshing for him—a chance to learn something new. I respected him greatly and considered him a friend, a friendship that continued to grow over the three years that I have been attending.

Then something happened to me. While I was reading the Bible, I came across an important passage that became the cornerstone upon which I wanted to live my life. It was Romans 12:1-2: “(1) And so, dear brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all he has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice—the kind he will find acceptable. This is truly the way to worship him. (2) Don’t copy the behaviour and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” (NLT).

I thought long and hard what these verses meant to me. I came to the conclusion that I wanted my close personal relationship with God more than I needed my identity as a lesbian (however skewed that logic may seem to you). I felt by choosing to be celibate was my living sacrifice, and that turning my back on the gay community would be no longer conforming to customs of the world. This was a decision that did not come easily as it was fought with much prayer. Nevertheless, it was a decision that I felt at peace with at the time. I never denied that I was a lesbian, but like an ambassador without papers. I lived my life from that perspective for two years.

Well, politics raised its ugly head with what was up for grabs both in Congress and at the statewide level during this year. My hackles were raised again and my anger towards this massive inequality subjugating all LGBT persons to second-class citizens put me on fire. I became politically active again renewing my passion to see true justice served. I was truly saddened to see how forthright and mean-spirited the Christian fundamentalists had become since the previous elections, not to mention the incredible amounts of money they raised to fund their own political agenda (what ever happened to the separation of church and state?).

Unforeseen by me, my personal life became a disaster as my bipolar and borderline personality disorders (BP and BPD) reared their ugly head pushing me into a downward spiral that led me to my aforementioned attempted suicide. There was so much conflict swirling within me. When I was discharged from the hospital after 11 days, I couldn’t face going back to my church having done what I had. After my continued absence, what would have I told everyone, “Oh yeah, by the way, I tried to commit suicide.” I didn’t think that would go over well. I had a long talk with my pastor and told him of my renewed passion to fight for LGBT equality. In one post to this blog, where I bemoaned how miserable my life had become, someone commented “Even though you have turned away from Him - He still loves you and wants you back. Your dilemma is trying to hold on to both worlds. It's not possible. God wants you to choose to lay down your old life and allow Him to make you totally new. He has a peace waiting for you that you've never known (but are desperately seeking)- You've never known this peace because you've never fully turned your life over to Him.”

I couldn’t believe what I read. For the first time I was being judged, and I was accused that I had never fully turned my life over to God when that couldn’t have been further from the truth considered the sacrificial decision I had made only two years before. I was torn. Knowing what I did now, could I ever be welcomed back into that church under the circumstances of how I was living my life as a queer political activist. I was hurt because this church and its people meant so very much to me. I was filled with the Spirit at this church as I had never known before; the pastor’s teaching had always deeply affected me. A subsequent conversation with this person helped me understand the spirit it which the comment was made--not to judge, but wanting to reach out so desperately to me. Can I return and just let the chips fall where they may, or do I want to search for another church that is gay-affirming, not knowing if I would be filled and fed in the same way? My heart wants to return to this little church, but at what expense.©2009

For Melanie—

Melanie, in your comment on my post below, you’ve touch upon a subject that concerns why I am beginning to have problems about the Bible…its translation. Full Gospel preachers will preach that it is the inherent word of God—that these words were divinely inspired. Yet, to whom were they inspired? Men of a far different cultural time than now. You cited a good example of sexism—women were treated as chattel (“an item of personal property that is not freehold land and is not intangible. Chattels are typically movable property). Women were not viewed as persons in their own right. This model had not changed until the 1920s with the 19th Amendment allowing women the right to vote. Up until then, men did not believe women had the wherewithal to have an opinion, much less speak in public. That is only the situation in the United States. Look at how many cultures (e.g., the Middle East) still actually treat their women as property. Anyway, I digress…

I also agree with your statements about Paul being sexist. Paul espoused the notion that men should stay single and devote their lives to God; however, if they could not remain single (subtle inference on my part here—if men could not do without sex), then be married, but it is much better to remain single (1 Cor 7:1). My interpretation: women were only good for one thing, satisfying men’s sexual urges (one caveat here, Paul also said the same for widows as well, though). Here’s my conundrum. I am a lesbian, therefore an abomination; however, if I choose to remain single (celibate), then it is better (so am I still an abomination?). So that forces me into a life where I will never have any relationships—a pretty sad state of affairs, don’t you think? Our current government has deemed that same-sex marriages are forbidden (under DOMA). If I could be legally married, then I would not be a fornicator, yet the noose around me is that I am still queer, so therefore still an abomination.

If the Bible is the divinely inspired word of God, then who is to say that by the time the words were captured on papyrus, the men so divinely inspired did not interpret it as they saw fit according to the times in which those words were inspired. I have already mentioned in my post below how we have since dispensed with certain passages as biblical rule, but to this day, no one will even suggest that homosexuality be dispensed with at the same time because through the ages, religious zealots have seen fit to propagate the belief that homosexuals are perverts (it’s become a strong-held belief, I believe, because people saw this as “different” from their own experiences, therefore immoral). Slavery was supported in the Bible. It is no longer allowed. Interracial marriages were not approved, but only recently have the courts deemed this as racist. No one wants to touch on the hot ticket of the day which has become the litmus test for all politicians, much like abortion was in previous political battles.

Your desire to read the true translations as you study other languages may prove interesting, especially as they may show wide differences across today’s various translations. In some churches, only the old King James version is considered THE Bible. I personally have found that the NIV is more homophobic across the board than others. Good luck with your studies and thank you for taking the time to share with me your thoughts.©2009

Outpatient Therapy, Day 7, the Gift Bag at My Door, & My Attempt at “Radical Acceptance”

I do not have much to say about today’s session. The therapist is concerned that I am not eating except a small snack to take with my Geodon. She is also concerned about my insomnia. I did not have much to share. Not much had changed from Wednesday, but I was able to report that I was not having any suicidal ideation Thursday night. Very depressed, yes, but I was able to leave it at that. She pointedly asked me if I could remain safe through the weekend and I could only tell her that I have demonstrated successfully one tool, and that was all I could promise her. I also told her that my psychiatrist has requested me to call him for a check-in call on Saturday and Sunday. She seemed rather pleased with that.

In actuality, my blogging has actually helped me with the ideation Thursday night. I spent a good deal of time writing, reading others’ blogs, and keeping up with my LGBTQ-oriented Facebook account (OK, a translation for you straight folks: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered, Queer/Questioning), along with my Twitter feeds.

Something weird happened at break. One of the folks in my small group came up to me and wanted to know why I ignored her after trying to say hi two times. I had to honestly tell her that I really had not noticed her (remember me; I am all about blinders around other people). She started crying and I did not what the hell to do as she did this in front of everyone. Then everyone stared at me. Well, I am sorry that I must have hurt her feelings (I can recognize that from classic BPD symptoms), but I am not responsible for her feelings, only my own. I felt, with everyone staring at me, that I at least had to apologize. I really didn’t want to have to interact with her at all, but what was I to do? It is not as if I go around intentionally trying to hurt someone, or be rude or uncaring. I just simply want to be left alone. Soon enough, break was over so I went inside where both groups join and found my seat on the far wall. I also asked the therapist if I could crack open the emergency door right beside me in case I had to leave the room (I do not want to make a spectacle of getting up and walking by everyone to leave through the normal door). She said that was fine (no alarm attached to the door)

I came home and found this gift bag by my front door inside my porch. Curiously, I picked it up and brought it inside. The attached note said, “For your walks around the neighbourhood…a few things I thought would come in handy.” It was signed from the only church member (outside of my pastor and his wife) that I had been relatively honest with about some things. Evidently she has been reading my blog and noticed my entries concerning with my dissociative states while walking or driving. Inside the bag was some pretty neat stuff. It contained an atlas with very detailed set of maps of my city along with a street index finder. I found my house (conveniently already marked with an icon as there is a large city fire department up at the corner. Nevertheless, I am going to put an X right where my house is anyway because with a past dissociation, the fire department’s presence did not mean anything to me. I’ve even post-noted my relevant pages). It also marks subdivisions and schools—things I pass by on a regular basis. In addition, there was a device with a red blinking LED visible to one km with a range of 180˚. It came with a strap and three batteries. I can attach this to myself to make me visible when I take my late-night walks. There was also an LED pen light with a magnifier lens that only weighs 38g and has a metal clip attachment. The last thing in the bag thrilled me to no end—a new tool. This seven-in-one tool is only 12cm long. Get this—it contains an LED light, compass, thermometer, clock, safety whistle, safety mirror and a 2X magnifier. It comes with a lanyard I can wear around my neck. Now I can be all decked out in LED!

OK, time for an honest reality check here—my perception vs. my reality. This person does want to be close to me—not because of the gifts, but because of the intentions behind them. I wrote her a long email thanking her (I did not feel prepared enough to actually talk with her at that point). In the same email, I told her everything. I even attached two documents on bipolar and borderline personality disorders to help her understand the effects these have on me. She responded with such a kind email; it gave me some contact with another person who now knew me the way I wanted her to know me—no pretence about anything. She let me know that she clearly knew what my boundaries were and that she was not going to be in my face, but essentially would let me make any contact. Fearing that I would lapse into my normative state of isolation, I told her that it was OK to call me, but if I felt I was not capable to talk, she could leave me a vm. I was OK with that, so after reading the email, I actually felt better prepared to call her. I am trying so very hard to reach out, but I can only take baby steps. I fear rejection; I fear abandonment.

Now, onto my next hurdle—trying to use “radical acceptance.” The principles are 1) solve the problem, or, 2) change how you feel about the problem, or 3) stay miserable, or 4) accept the problem. It takes away the “judgements” and removes the “shoulds.”

The hurdle—all of the anger and resentment I have felt toward my pastor for placing the 911 call and coming by the house to show the police my text message. My perception? That he was disappointed with me, angry because I did not call first and ask for prayer before I got in that state, and that he would think less of me. Therefore, I took a very deep breath and wrote down everything I wanted to say before I called him so I could focus and concentrate on what I really wanted to say.

I called his house and thankfully, he answered. I am not really sure what I would have said if his wife had picked up instead…I wasn’t prepared for that scenario. I told him who I was not knowing if he would recognize my voice. Then I told him I had something to say and would he listen to me without interrupting me until I was done. I asked him if he would meet me because there were some things that I needed to say to him alone, that we could meet in a public venue of his choosing as long as I would not be seen as making a spectacle of myself if I got emotional, and it had to be a place where I could smoke (damn these city ordinances banning smoking to even include many outside venues). We settled on standing in the church parking lot (right across the street from me) for this Tuesday at 1630. When I finished what I said, he asked if he could say a few things. I hesitated momentarily—this wasn’t a planned two-way conversation. I wanted to say what I had to say, set the time and place and get off the phone, but I ended up saying OK. He helped fill in some more of the blanks. Evidently there were already three or four police cruisers and the EMS there across the street in the church parking lot before he arrived (I had been told earlier by one of the first responder cops that they parked there with no lights flashing on purpose so as not to alert me in case it was a situation of “suicide by cop”). The cops asked him who he was and he explained that he had placed the 911 call as a result of my text message. They asked to see the text message, but they would not let him cross the street to my house at any point. He told me that the only reason why he came over was that he was very concerned and worried about me. He said he had tried to call me after receiving the text message and I did not answer. Again, the problem with my perception vs. reality.

Am I ready for this conversation? I do not know. I have to find a way to let this anger and resentment go. While it is by no means my only trigger, I have obsessed over this a lot—primarily because I have always respected him. He is a WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get for you non-computer geeks) kind of guy—shoots straight from the hip with no guile. From the very beginning, he has accepted the fact that I am a lesbian and never has judged me. I owe him the same respect.

Well, I still have two days to process this. I am also going to discuss during my group therapy session on Monday. I also have my second appointment with my individual therapist on Monday afternoon as well. My question is am I sufficiently prepared to handle this type of conversation at this point so soon after everything has happened? I need to protect myself and not set myself up for failure. I am trying so hard to reach a point in my life where everything is in balance, but I have to put my needs first—a concept that never existed in my “I don’t give a damn” mode.©2009

This Should Be Classified as a Hate Crime!

ATLANTA POLICE DEPARTMENT RAID THE ATLANTA EAGLE

“On September 10, 2009, Atlanta Police illegally detained and searched dozens of patrons at gay bar without a Warrant, Reasonable Suspicion, or Probable Cause.” (see here for the full accounting.)

This is a personal account of someone who was there (listen to all of it even though the clip is about ten minutes) It visibly reveals the incredible impact this incident had on this patron:



This has not just affected people locally in Atlanta. Here is an example of a reaction from a global perspective:



I am outraged beyond description that something like this has occurred. This is NOT Stonewall, and it is NOT June, 1969. Folks, this is happening NOW. The fundamentalist Christian Right has decried our efforts to obtain our rights as citizens of the US. They say that we are asking for “special” rights. They say that allowing these rights (legally recognized marriages and all of the economic benefits associated, protection from discrimination in the workplace, the acknowledgement of inclusion as any abuse to be considered a hate crime, the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, etc., etc., etc.) will only erode and undermine the family values of the American institution (the last time I looked, I lived in Amerca!). There are bans in many states forbidding LGBTQ couples from adopting children. You can only imagine the underlying thought process in this discrimination. Yes, most recently, Obama finally signed a hate crimes law. Congress proceeds to discuss ending discrimination in the workplace. But none of the “big ticket” items are being addressed. We are so far from where we should be.

What will it finally take for us to be truly treated as equal citizens? It’s been 40 years since Stonewall. Yes, I have seen some positive changes along the way (more open-mindedness, some states passing the right to marry/civil unions—however with the caveat of DOMA—nothing is sanctioned at the federal level, and a little more public tolerance). However, the religious right is determined to have their way. They browbeat Washington with their powerful lobbying efforts (e.g., Focus on the Family’s James Dobson, et al. have made it their driving focus to rid America of the “gay agenda” and they have exerted their significant influence upon many in Congress). The “gay issue” has become the litmus test for all politicians.

What happened in Atlanta IS a hate crime. Will the Atlanta City Police Department ultimately be held accountable for their horrendous actions, or will this, as with so many other incidents, be quietly swept under the rug? The LGBTQ community is completely exposed as long as there is tacit permission for any organization to be able to act as the APD did. I fear the end result, if all of the gay bashers have their way, will be retreating back to the pre-Stonewall days. I’m proud of who I am; I don’t shrink from my responsibilities to speak out and take a stand when necessary (to include righteously speaking out to the snide comment made behind my back while standing in a cashier line while someone loudly announces their ignorance just because of a t-shirt I may be wearing displaying the fact that I am a dyke).

Folks, we’re not going anywhere. We are not going to be passive and silent. Change must come now.©2009

Joy in the Face of Circumstances?

Well, I did not throw up and I did go to church. I was sweating bullets through Praise and Worship while standing; I had no energy whatsoever and was hanging on to everything I had just to be there. My exhaustion is so overwhelming.

Pastor preached on maintaining your joy despite whatever circumstances you are going through. I’ve been there before. After I was laid off, I knew in my heart that the Lord would provide for me and just pressed onward. Sure, there were many times when I was curled up like a baby on the floor of my bedroom in utter agony not knowing what the next day would bring, yet I was still able to focus on all of the good things with which the Lord had already blessed me. That focus brought me the strength I needed to endure the unknown at the time. And that strength was my joy. Sometimes it was just enough to know that I could trust in Him to make it through.

The scripture referenced this morning was found throughout Philippians 4. Key points: 1) learn to avoid comparisons. There will always be others that fare better than you. This will inevitably spawn the “fairness” questions back to God. One comment that hit home is that the mortality rate for the human being is 100%. So, what do we do with ourselves in the meantime? What do we set our eyes upon? 2) It is a myth that I must be liked in order to be happy. Well, that’s a hard one with which to grapple. I am alone. I am unhappy. No, not everyone I will come across will like me. Truth be told, I easily piss off most people. And you’ve read my rave reviews I’ve received from my immediate family in Birthday Cards. Pastor said that all I should be concerned with is that I please God. Well, I’m in trouble here. I acknowledge that I am a lesbian (albeit celibate, although I’m not sure if that isn’t just splitting hairs). Certainly that isn’t looked upon as being pleasing (no, I’m not going to drag all the biblical references to prove that one). I also run right smack into the two verses that I have really tried so hard to pattern my life after. So, where am I really as far as the conforming and the transforming? Am I really just a poser? 3) Pray for what can be changed and accept that which cannot be changed Phil 4:6-7. Again, another sticking point. I don’t believe being queer is a choice, so what can be changed there? Also, what about the whole bipolar shtick? It’s not something to be cured. Do I believe that God has the power to heal? Yes, I do. Will He cure me? Who knows? All I do know right now is that I am bipolar which drives to the very heart of so much that is wrong with my life. 4) Learn to accept God’s power in that there are circumstances that I can’t face alone 2 Cor 12:9.  5) Learning to allow for God’s provision Phil 4:18-19.  Both points 4 and 5 I’ve experienced first hand. I have seen God’s fingerprint on my life in such a way that it defies all other explanation (see My Own Personal Miracle elsewhere in this blog). 6) God will give you all you need if you put Him first in your life Matt 6:31-33.  This point comes with that great caveat: IF you put Him first. Do I? I am consumed with the by-products of being bipolar. I am consumed with wrestling with the concept of being Christian and queer. Am I just wrestling with the concept of being queer? Is it internalized homophobia? No, I don’t think that’s it. If anything, all of my life I’ve been a radical, in-your-face butch dyke.

If I try to follow my heart, I know His word tells me that so much of what I am internalizing are just the lies of the devil, but the bipolar keeps getting in the way. I can’t keep all these racing thoughts straight in my head. So, I end up not knowing what’s real and what isn’t. It’s information overload. I am drowning in the sea of “oughts” and “ams.”—who I should be vs. who I am. Am I who I should be? Why can’t I answer that question?©2009

My Head in a Vise

So far, since being off my meds, my sleep pattern hasn’t been too off-kilter. The only time it appears that they are affected is when I am experiencing my short-acting manic phases, which, I guess, is a good thing. The “good” part in that the manic phases are short. I thought I was back to rapid cycling, but this time I am not too sure. My manic phases approximate a 36-hour interval between anything else—anything else being the rapid descent into hell, where it seems I am now having the wonderful fortune of spending greater periods. Given my options, despite the personal drawbacks, I’d much rather be manic.

The kicker, sleep-wise, has been the depressed phase. Ordinarily, while it doesn’t amount to anything close to refreshing, at least I do spend some time asleep. However, in the last three weeks I’ve noticed a new wrinkle. Every morning, far earlier than when my alarm normally goes off, I suddenly awake with a bone-crunching headache. The pain is searing and tears spring to my eyes. At this point, despite however exhausted I still may be (whether I’ve had three or even five hours of sleep), I simply cannot roll over and turn off the light. I’ve tried popping a few Exedrine (the one OTC that usually works), but, of late, it hasn’t made much of a dent. Due to some relatively recent oral surgery, I have a few Vicodin laying around, so I tried a couple of those. Mixed bag of results: the headache eventually wears away; however, I am left feeling rather drowsy which is often compounded by the fact that the quality of sleep I did experience wasn’t great. That won’t do during the work week. Can’t log onto the network if I can’t first log into myself!

I don’t normally experience headaches, so I am rather concerned at the turn of events. I also don’t appreciate the nauseous feeling I end up with after taking any meds so early in the morning on an empty stomach. I even tried eating a few Phenergan with either the Execdrine or the Vicodin, but that just compounds the ensuing drowsiness—hard to look sharp as a tack at work if you can’t talk without a thick tongue!

I don’t think it’s anything organic. My last major BP crisis in 2005 resulting from a failed suicide attempt that landed me in a psych ward for quite some time resulting in some rather uncommon after effects. This admission bought me a new diagnosis to add to the BP: borderline personality disorder. Oh goodie, yet another tag. Didn’t know so much about it at the time, but after doing some research, it sure did explain why I was so heavy into the self-mutilation for a while, even at the later years of my life. One new symptom I began experiencing (not that I hadn’t already—it’s just now that I know what to call it!) was states of dissociation. One particular incident brought EMTs to my house, ones I evidently called myself according to the taped recording of my 911 call.

I don’t remember most of what happened (hence the dissociation). I have fleeting memories of being on the floor in my living room trying to reach for the phone. That’s it. The next thing I can remember is getting into a taxi after being discharged from the ER the next day (according to 911, I called around 0200 in a panicked state mumbling something about passing out after bouncing my head off my heavy glass coffee table). When I got home, the house was a wreck. There were pieces of pizza all over the floor between my kitchen, dining room and living room. When I got into the kitchen, after following the trail of pepperoni and mushrooms on the floor, I found what appeared to be the dough from a frozen pizza tightly bound into a mangled ball. Whatever happened had been extreme…I just can’t remember any of it.

The ER did a CT scan that proved no injury. All of the medical notes from the intake nurse to the doctor’s comments proved inconclusive. The ironic part is that they all referenced having a normal conversation with me in that I did not appear too distraught and was able to answer questions. Mind blowing to me since 1) I can’t remember any of it, and 2) what the hell threw me into such a frenzied state in the first place that resulted in attacking a frozen pizza…a frenzied state that must have lasted a long enough time for the frozen dough to have become malleable enough to shape into a crumpled ball while traipsing through three large rooms of my house resulting in passing out and hitting my head on my coffee table. The level to which I attacked this pizza is mind blowing enough in and of itself.

The next day (or maybe it was two days later), armed with my medical records from my ER visit, I went to see my doctor. It was then that I began experiencing some dizzying headaches. My cause for concern was that the CT was clear, so why the lingering headaches? I was referred to a neurologist is fairly short order and over the next two weeks MRIs and EEGs also proved inconclusive (however, during this time period I evidently had a single-car accident which I cannot remember, although the front end of my Civic will tell you otherwise, so something was still going on).

To make a long story short, nothing organic was ever proven. After consulting with my p-doc, I decided to transfer from my current mode of therapy, CBT (cognitive behaviour therapy), to DBT (dialectical…a story in and of itself). I learned more of the impact of borderline personality disorder while now learning to handle these fugue states of dissociation—each event always accompanied by extreme panic disorder according to the wreckage evidenced in my house at a later time along with a headache and, of course, the absolute memory loss. The one precursor to the dissociation was the headache, and then easily handled by the Exedrine. After months of DBT, I never got anywhere with learning the cause-and-effect of the dissociative periods (the memory blackouts were distraughtful enough), much less anything BPD- or BP-related, so I quit. The dissociative states, after a while, disappeared (no, the memory loss is still permanent) and the lingering headaches eventually did as well.

OK, so now it’s 2009. No more dissociation (at least no evidence of it!). But, now, I’m being jolted awake with these piercing headaches. The quality of my sleep has lessened; I always awake exhausted even if I am lucky enough to have six hours of it. My almost-regular popping of Exedrine while I bolt down my morning hot tea helps me orient somewhat to my workday, but now I am beginning to question the headaches, their causation. I thought about going back to see my regular doc, but I’m not sure where that will get me. While I’ve never presented myself with drug-seeking behaviour, I certainly wouldn’t want him to think I’m just hitting him up for more scripts of painkillers. No point in pulling in another round of neurologists—that’s already proven useless and far too expensive. There are no other underlying processes going on to further define this malady. It’s just damned inconvenient and, truthfully, quite bothersome. So, now I face my bleak spiraled-down states of depression with a constant state of exhaustion. It’s truly as if I haven’t had any sleep whatsoever. Yes, my depressive states are always associated with exhaustion, but the state of exhaustion has worsened suddenly with the onset of the headaches.

This morning I have only enough energy to drink my hot tea, sit here, and write. In a few hours, I will go through the motions of getting ready to go to church, but even this morning I question why I will go. My mind won’t be where it ought; it hasn’t been for a couple of weeks. Yet I still feel compelled to go. I can’t escape the fact that God has blessed me quite graciously when I was laid off earlier this year. Regardless of what anyone wants to think, I know the circumstances that took place that resulted in my new job—to me, personally, is nothing short of miraculous, say whatever you will. But, my focus is shifting. My attention is drawn to the BP that is consuming me along with all of the questions suddenly surrounding me of who I really am. The queer question. The Christian question. Right now, I just don’t give a damn. My head hurts, I feel like I am going to throw up, and I just want to crawl back into bed and shut out the world. If only all these racing thoughts in my head would just shut the fuck up.©2009

Queer-Who Dares to State That This Is a Choice?

I am so tired of right-winged Christian fundamentalists decrying that being queer is a “lifestyle choice.” Watching this video should only further convince an intelligent person that this simply is not so. I have to ask…Why in the world would people CHOOSE to live their life knowing that its very being would pit themselves up against the potential for attacks in any form. Everything was different pre-Stonewall. It was all behind closed doors, yet as the times changed and more lesbians and gays ventured into their underworld to meet together among themselves, they only faced dire retribution from local police departments that had nothing better than to raid these establishments where the sole intent was to beat and humiliate the patronage. These weren’t merely situations where the cops raided only to “rough up” or scare the queer patrons. The focus was to cause pure physical torture. The cops took delight in trying to catch anyone in drag (there was a stupid rule on the books about the minimum number of “female” clothing pieces a woman had to be wearing at all times). If she was dare caught dressed in drag, she was violently yanked from the assembled, pulled into the house and stripped by the cops, often ridiculed, but more often raped by their batons to “teach” her a lesson. Males dressed in drag were treated with equal torture. This was allowed to go on with the complicit knowledge of the police administration in an effort to “clean up the streets.” Queers were beaten and tortured within inches of their lives to the sick pleasure of the police. I’ve place the link from Wikipedia that clearly captures the culture change leading up to the Stonewall Riots and its aftermath http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stonewall_riots.

I encourage you to read this to glean a true understanding of what we have all gone through and where we have arrived.  Such as it is, we are all still fighting for the very simple right to peacefully co-exist and have access to the same rights and privileges of straight couples—rights and privileges often mandated by protected legal rulings (health benefits, pensions, tax credits, recognition of family status, death benefits, the list is endless). We are not asking for special rights, merely equal rights currently being denied under the guise of the Christian right-winged fundamentalist’s push to decry that queer couples openly defy the word of God, and by that very statement, must be denied any rights conferred upon what is automatically given by virtue of a marriage license. I won’t exhaust all of the arguments that have been far more eloquently argued elsewhere, but suffice it to say that this country’s categorical stance on Family Values (thanks in part to the horrific diatribes by James Dobson of Focus on the Family with his queer-bashing campaigns over the many years), is tearing at the very fabric of what makes up more than 10% of our population. You can’t read that link or the video above and still come away with the idea that to be queer is a choice.

While a few states have enacted their own rulings that would confer upon same-sex couples certain rights and privileges as straight couples, there are still only a few (see those listed below). Almost as soon as some individual states began seeking same-sex partnership status of some fashion (civil unions, marriage, etc), other states quickly jumped on the bandwagon to place laws into effect acknowledging marriage as existing only between one man and one woman, thus disavowing the ability of one state to accept with full faith and credit any rulings and legal decisions made by other states. Moreover, you still have the Federal DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) hanging over our heads. No matter what a state may decide, it is not accepted at the federal level. Therefore, while I might qualify to file a joint state return with my spouse in Massachusetts, I cannot file a joint federal return (or reap any federal benefits).

1. 10/10/08: In a 4 to 3 decision, the Connecticut Supreme Court overturned the state's ban on same-sex marriage, making it the third state to allow legal gay marriage.

2. 6/15/09: The D.C. Board of Elections and Ethics rejected an effort to hold a referendum on whether Washington should recognize same-sex marriages performed elsewhere. The move is a victory for gay rights advocates. If Congress, which has final say over laws approved in Washington D.C., doesn't weigh in on the city council vote in favor of same-sex marriages granted outside of the District by July of 2009 the measure will become law.

3. 6/3/09: New Hampshire became the sixth U.S. state to legalize same-sex marriage. The legislation includes a provision that allows churches, their employees and religious groups to decline to officiate at same-sex marriages. The law takes effect January 1, 2010.
4. 10/25/06: New Jersey lawmakers were given 180 days to draft a bill that would give same-sex couples equal rights of marriage. The mandate from the State Supreme Court was clear, but lawmakers were challenged with what to actually call the new gay unions- marriage or an equivalent term with the same rights. Less than 60 days after the landmark ruling, the New Jersey legislature approved a bill that will create civil unions for same-sex couples. Democratic Gov. Jon Corzine singed the bill, making New Jersey the third state to offer civil unions behind Vermont and Connecticut. The law took effect February 19, 2007.

5. 5/13/09: The New York State Assembly passed a bill on Tuesday with a vote of 82 to 52 in favor of same-sex marriage. The vote is one of two needed to legalize gay marriage in the state. The bill must pass the Senate, which has a slim Democratic majority.

6. 5/6/09: Gov. John Baldacci signed a bill legalizing same-sex marriage in Maine, making the state the fifth in the U.S. to allow gay and lesbian couples to marry. The bill authorizes marriage between any two people rather than between one man and one woman. Gov. Bladdacci previously opposed gay marriage, but switched his position citing fairness and equal protection for all citizens in Maine. However, this November, there is a question o the ballot that in part will read, “Do you want to reject the new law that lets same-sex couples marry?” Maine faces a potential problem with their new bill being voted out.

7. 7/15/08: With the repeal of Bill 1913, which prohibited out of state residents from marrying in Massachusetts, both same-sex couples that reside in Massachusetts and out-of-state couples can legally marry in the State of Massachusetts.

8. 9/1/09: A new statewide same-sex marriage law took effect at 12am, making Vermont the fourth state in America where gay marriage is legally recognized.

9. 4/3/09: The Iowa Supreme Court made history on April 3, 2009 with a unanimous ruling, making Iowa the 3rd state to allow same-sex marriages. The state county attorney has stated that he will not seek a rehearing. In the case, Varnum v. Brien, the court says, "state laws prohibiting marriage on the basis of the partners' gender are unconstitutional." Tom Head over at About: Civil Liberties gives the top questions and answers about the same-sex marriage ruling in Iowa.

10. 8/3/09: Gay and lesbian couples began registering for domestic partnership in Wisconsin, granting them 43 rights associated with marriage including hospital visitation and estate planning. The measure was included in Governor Jim Doyle's biannual state budget that was approved by lawmakers. Voters banned same-sex marriage in Wisconsin in 2006. August 21, 2009: Wisconsin Attorney General John Byron “J.B.” Van Hollen said he would not defend the state's gay-inclusive domestic partnership registry, calling it unconstitutional. Wisconsin Family Action (WFA) and the Christian-based Alliance Defense Fund (ADF) have asked the state Supreme Court to strike down the law.

11. 5/9/07: Under Oregon's domestic partnership law, signed by Governor Ted Kulongoski, gay and lesbian couples are eligible for all the state-wide rights and benefits of marriage. The law went into effect on February 4, 2008, after a court delay. Oregon also outlaws discrimination based on sexual orientation.

12. 4/15/09: The Washington State Legislature expanded domestic partnership laws to cover "everything but marriage." 4/21/07: Washington's domestic partnership bill, State Registered Domestic Partnerships (SRDP), was signed into law. The measure succeeded by a vote of 65-35 only a year after the state Supreme Court upheld Washington's Defense of Marriage Act banning same-sex marriage.

13. 5/26/09: The California Supreme Court upheld Proposition 8, reinforcing the ban on same-sex marriage, but ordered that the marriages of the 18,000 couples married prior to the gay marriage ban be recognized.

14. 8/24/09: Same-sex couples began pre-registration for domestic partnerships in Nevada for a period of one month, as announced Secretary of State Ross Miller. Registered domestic partnered same-sex couples are granted limited rights such as hospital visitation rights, estate planning and shared responsibility for debt. However, employers are not required to offer health care benefits to same-sex partners.

15. 9/17/09: A group of Congress members introduced a bill this week in the U.S. House that seeks to repeal the federal ban on same-sex marriage. U.S. Rep. Jerrold Nadler (D-N.Y.) introduced the Respect for Marriage Act in the U.S. House Sept. 15 along with 91 cosponsors, including openly gay lead sponsors Reps. Tammy Baldwin (D-Wisc.) and Jared Polis (D-Colo.), making this the first time legislation has been introduced to repeal the Defense of Marriage Act since its 1996 passage.

So, help me understand that word “choice” again?©2009

The Queer Rollercoaster Ride

I spent a good deal of time thinking about where my life was even only three or so years ago. I was a hard-living, radical, in your face, out and proud Dyke, an absolute butch from the word go. I was as politically active as I could be. At that time, there was an amendment up for vote that year to recognize marriage in this grand southern state of SC of being only between a man and woman. Never mind that DOMA already exists at the federal level. No, SC has to insert its Bob Jones spin all on its own. This amendment would also deny any rights conferred upon queer couples from other states. Yes, the amendment passed on a landslide scale (no surprise there). Yes, folks, I am so proud to be living in this bleeding red state.

I’m back to my state of unknown identity. Who the hell am I? I have been butch all my life. It’s how I have always seen myself—how I’ve always presented myself to the world. Now, I feel like I’m back in this no-man’s-land. My struggle to reconcile being queer and Christian rears its ugly head today. One day, I can so clearly seem to make a decision on what I want to do about that, and yet today, I do a full 180. I miss who I was, my friends, my politics. And there isn’t a soul who could possibly understand this conundrum. Anyone I knew back then has already told me that they thought my decision to turn my back on my queer identity would only cause me grief…a true forewarning, to be sure. To hear “I told you so.” is not something I want to face. I knew they were all right then, and now, look at me, they still are.

One dear friend back then, my closest political ally, looked me right in the face and warned me that if I didn’t stand firm and embrace my queer identity, I would only end up back where I find myself right now. I wonder what she would tell me now. Was my choice to turn away from my queer identity in order to accept the mantle of my Christian beliefs only fueling the BP? Now, mind you, this isn’t the first time I tried to make this decision. The only other time I walked away from the queer community, my identity, my everything in order to accept of what I believed to be the tenets of the Christian way of life I believed to be right and true only landed me right into the psych ward, BP in full-blown mode, with a suicide attempt under my belt.

I just can’t sort out who I am anymore: a lesbian? someone with BP? A Christian?

Despite how some of my previous blogs have reflected what amounted to having finally made up my mind regarding who I am, this morning, the questions rear their ugly heads once again and I feel as though I am back to square one. In utter honesty, I grieve over the loss of my butch identity, my place among my gay social networking group, and yes, even being able to explore dating once again.

After doing exhaustive research online, and recalling conversations with other Lesbians, every queer person I’ve known or read about publically affirms their Christianity. They believe that they can have both. Why can I not arrive at the same decision-making process that allows me to conclude the same position?©2009

Queer? Christian? Both??

After spending so much time online this weekend, I first thought that I was only more confused than I already was. I’ve read multiple blogs, sampled many YouTube videos and felt I could not come up with a solution that I could live with in my heart. But, it actually took putting this all down in words to more firmly cement the decisions that I’ve made with apologies to no one.

I read and listened to the gay community’s input that one can be Christian and queer, inclusive of maintaining their relationships with their partners. Many churches are gay affirming that embrace the whole person.

I spent equal time researching the Christians’ input. Their position holds that the bible is the inherent word of God, and as such, accepts the passages that decry homosexuality as a sin. (Let me clarify right now that I did not give any credence to Focus on the Family’s James Dobson’s diatribe on his vitriolic exhortation that we as Americans must protect “our family values” as his lead-in to a treatise on gay bashing).

All Christians, gay or straight will also say that we are all sinners, that none of us lives a perfected life free from sin.

I am a lesbian. I am also wholly committed to seeking after God with all my heart and soul. To that end, I am still human, still a sinner. I have that glorious opportunity to seek after God for the redemption of my sins. But, this brings up the wrinkle for me. I hunger to live my life as holy as I can which speaks to my ability to place obedience to God above all else. This is where the concept of repentance comes in. God expects us to ask for forgiveness of our sins but also to repent (“I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." Luke 5:32). Repentance can be defined as consisting of (1) a true sense of one's own guilt and sinfulness; (2) an actual hatred of sin (Ps. 119:128; Job 42:5, 6; 2 Cor. 7:10) and turning from it to God; and (3) a persistent endeavor after a holy life in a walking with God in the way of His commandments. Having this knowledge tells me that it is not acceptable to continue to repeat sins continually and then always asking for forgiveness every single night knowing that we are going to be committing that same sin tomorrow.

I personally do believe that the bible is the one true word of God—all of it, not just the passages that I can swallow. For me, it’s an all-or-nothing precept. Yes, the Evangelical fundamentalists take the same stand and that is why I cringe when they use particular passages to damn us all to hell. God loves me, provides for me, protects me and makes a way for me. And yet, at the same time, this very same God is a just God. The time will come to pass when we will each be held accountable for our actions. God does not expect us to be perfect, but he does require obedience. Being obedient is to follow His word. I always keep coming back to two verses that became life changing for me. “1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. 2 And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” (Romans 12:1-2).  These verses became my measuring stick by how I live my life now. I hunger to hear God tell me, “well done, my good and faithful servant.”

To that end, I made a very difficult decision in order to honor the concept of repentance and live my life according to Romans 12:1-2. Yes, I am a lesbian. There was no choice to be made that defined me as one just as there is no choice to be made to be straight. I accept that sexual sin defined in the bible speaks of all sexual sin, gay and straight. As a result, I am presenting my body as a living sacrifice to God by choosing to be celibate. I’ve also sacrificed my entire social network. I was a very radical, out-in-your-face dyke. To willingly walk away from all that which identified who I was before I came to know the Lord meant losing my community, my friends, and my relationships.

I have been scorned by many in the gay community. I have been accused of casting judgment upon them just because of a personal decision I made for myself. Did I undergo reparative therapy? Absolutely not. I still identify myself as a lesbian, but more like an ambassador without papers. I will never be straight for all that this label means. It will mean that I will live the rest of my life without being in a loving, committed relationship with another person. That’s my sacrifice back to God. My one true desire is to live my life according to God’s will for me, wherever that takes me. This year, the one big lesson I learned was what it means to truly lay everything at His feet and to trust in Him alone. My family values are just fine. After all, I am a child of God.©2009

A Stupid Decision, Yet a Decision Nonetheless

Well, I have done the unthinkable yet again. I’ve had to wean myself off all of my bipolar medication. I have lived with this disease for more years than I care to remember; I know full well what the upcoming consequences will be. I will begin rapid cycling once again. To tell you the truth, I’ve missed the manic highs. No one seems to get that. I feel on top of the world. I feel like I can do anything. And sleep? Who needs it? I am always at my creative and productive best while manic. Everything seems so perfect.

Nevertheless, not too far away is the downward spiral that, for me, is catastrophic. We’re not talking about just dipping down to a depressive state. For me, I become totally intractable. I cannot function—the world ceases to exist. I pull so far inward that I see nothing that is going on around me. I completely disconnect from the outside world. While my job performance is at its peak while manic, the destructive forces that drive me when I hit rock bottom can seriously threaten my job.

Do I care? Certainly not when I am in this state. I lose all hope; I withdraw from everything completely. Last night I took the last doses I had left. I knew this was upon the horizon; I did not stop suddenly. I carefully measured out the dosings starting six weeks ago and carefully began weaning myself slowly. It was the best of choices knowing that I only had so much medicine left.

Medical insurance? Sure, I am covered through my employer. Once I meet the deductible, it’s a great policy—it covers 90% of most everything. The prescription part of my plan kicks in and I can obtain my medications at a reasonable rate. The only kicker here is that damned deductible. Mine is $1150. I am a very healthy person. I’ve had no need to see my own medical doctor in almost two years. Since I am so healthy, I will never meet the deductible. The nasty part is that I receive no discounts or caps on my prescriptions until that deductible is met. Just one of the three medications I take costs $800 for a 90-day supply. I simply don’t have that. Sure, one could argue that if I’d just pay the at-cost price of my medications at the beginning of the year, the deductible will be met, but the total for the three meds for a 90-day supply is close to $1800…and get this…it’s not like they charge me full price until I hit that $1150 ceiling and then start capping the remaining scripts left when I first send them in. I have to shell out the full at-cost price. Even if I sent then in separately, no one drug costs the $1150 deductible, so as long as there is any amount remaining towards my unmet deductible, I will be charged the full price. So, yeah, I have medical insurance, but what good does this policy really do me? I just plain don’t have enough money to shell out for the upfront retail price of the meds.

I’ve not even bothered to see my shrink. I already know what he is going to say to me—trust me, been there, done that. Besides, what’s the point? It’s not as if he’ll be able to do anything about it. Sure, he can give me some samples, but certainly not enough to underwrite all that I need.

So, here I sit just waiting for the cycling to begin. I can tell that I’ve actually started as the levels in my system have slowly decreased when I started weaning six weeks ago. I’m getting by with about fours of sleep each night. Soon enough, there will be no sleep and then I’ll kick into high gear.

And the really cruel function of my bipolar is that I can be in a mixed phase. I can be manic and feel suicidal at the same time. That’s not fair. I should be able to enjoy the manic side for its duration, then just hunker down when the spiraling begins. I’ve already begun withdrawing from everything. I’ve cut myself off from everyone. I turned off the voicemail feature of my cell phone and turned off my answering machine at home. CallerID is such a fantastic feature, isn’t it? The sad part is that I really don’t many calls anyway. Since walking away from the Gay community (discussed many times in previous posts), I’ve left behind my entire social structure. And I don’t have a relationship with my family of origin (think about that phrase—family of origin—I think that phrase was coined at the same time as the phrase “dysfunctional family”).

So, I’m left with pretty much nothing.

Oh, I have a good relationship with the people I know at my church. They have stood right beside me when I have gone through the darkest of hours this year when I was facing potential unemployment. And I know that I could reach out to any one of them if I needed to and they would be right there. But, in reality, everyone at my church are all coupled families. With the exception of one recent arrival, I am the only single person in this church family. While they welcome me with open arms, I feel as I am standing on the sidelines watching. I’m really not a part of everything. They all have their own lives they live and I never interact with any of them outside of church. When I was in the midst of the worst crisis I’d experienced, a few reached out occasionally. Nevertheless, when all is said and done, I’m the one who initiates any of the phone calls. I can’t remember when someone called me up just to say hi. I know they care for me, I really do, but I can’t escape this feeling of a separateness there that exists. I have nothing in common with anyone. There are no shared experiences. They all know that I’m a lesbian, even though I’ve walked away from that life, yet I can’t help but wonder if that might have something to do with it. I feel as though they just can’t possibly understand exactly how walking away from that life utterly took away from everything I knew to be true about myself—everything that defined my identity. It’s ironic. I can be at the church on Sunday and go through all of the motions of the usual greetings and pleasantries, but that’s as far as it goes. They don’t really know who I am. Moreover, I don’t think they have a clue as to how being bipolar defines me. The vast majority of the world looks at it as if it was just a bad case of having a bad hair day. They can’t see its crippling effect on my life.

I will admit that I have played a part in this feeling of isolation. They have home groups twice a month as a potluck gathering on Sunday evenings. For the most part, I couldn’t always go because I would end up staying past my bedtime and altering my carefully scheduled medicine dosing. But, truth be told, on the few occasions I did attend, I felt so out of my element. I would stand apart emotionally watching everyone interact and I just felt like I didn’t belong. I had no common thread with anyone. Moreover, I know that they have no clue that I feel this way. I mean, what would I say?

I know this isolation is a function of being bipolar. And I guess this is how I know I am entering into my crisis stage. It’s so easy for me to isolate. I work from home, so when I get off work, I simply walk out of one room and go into another. Aside from going up to the post office and picking up my mail or going grocery shopping, I can go weeks never leaving my house. I have nowhere to go, no one to visit—my castle without a drawbridge. My church is literally right across the street from me. And I am finding that I am coming through the door later and later just to avoid interacting with anyone, and at the end of the service I just pray I can get out the door without anyone stopping me. I am once again perfecting my façade of “Hi, how are ya doing, I’m fine, it’s great to see you, OK, have a great week, see you next Sunday.” Yeah, I’m beginning to cycle. I can see the signs.

How is it going to show its ugly face this time? How long will I be manic? Will it be a continual mixed-phase process, or will there be defining moments of absolute mania followed by abject despair and pain? There is nothing I can do to prepare myself. The last thing I am going to do is tell anyone about it; the deeper I fall, the more the charming façade when I cannot escape being around others. Yet, I’m not going to let this keep me from going to church (at least I am saying that right now). My purpose for being in church is personal, not social. I have the opportunity to praise and worship God where, during that time, it’s just Him, me, and no one else. I also want to hear the pastor preach. I am always fed by hearing God’s word, and I can always see an application to my life by what is being preached. During the week, I have my own personal time with God throughout the day, when I’m praying or reading His word. Most of the time it’s just the two of us having a continuing conversation. Yet, I still have the need to be in that church on Sundays. The praise and worship segment of the service is so very special to me. I wish they would sing more songs. Everything seems so scripted…4 songs, requests for prayers and praise reports, receiving the offering and the sermon. Sometimes I think the pastor is more time conscious than he should be. I don’t care how long the service lasts. I am there to meet with God. I wish there was more freedom during Praise and Worship. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if the Holy Spirit just wanted to take a service and spin it on its side…would there be room for that? There have been so many times when I just wanted to keep singing my praises.

My eyes are open and I’m gearing up for the battle I’m beginning to fight. While I have some shred of sanity at the moment, dare I wonder how it will end this time. The last time I went off my meds I ended up in the hospital (certainly not voluntarily. Had I refused, it would have been court ordered. That’s just because the person I was living with at the time came home far earlier than she was supposed to and found me unconscious. And I was so close that time in finally succeeding. Waking up in the ER certainly was not part of the bigger picture then).

My living arrangements are different now and are quite conducive to a successful final solution. I live alone. No one ever stops by my house to visit. No one ever calls me. Because I work from home, seeing my car parked in the same position in front of my house for long periods of time would raise no questions. No one has a key to my home. My neighbor has just move out and I am going to make sure I don’t get to know whoever finally does move in. And I don’t know any of my other neighbors. What a perfect situation. My absence will trigger no alarms with anyone. I like the way that sounds.©2009

Utter Confusion

Once I found solace in my work routine
An opportunity to escape from the isolation at home
But the seclusion from home is carrying over to the office
My door stays shut and spurns all spontaneous pop-ins

The customary workload has not changed
But the depression is not alleviated by the focus
The lines between home and work has become blurred
I fear the impact this will have on my performance

This depression has become the driving force of my day
I can’t help but wonder if it’s in the weaning from Zyprexa
But this drug’s propensity to cause me to gain weight
Has become an equally driving force to be taken off the drug

It’s been a frustrating road to travel
The drug, especially at the higher dosages, proved reliable
As I continue the weaning process, I see a marked decrease in my stability
And I am left with quite a quandary as to the best treatment

This lack of interest in my time focused on my career
I fear will carry over to my overall effectiveness
I am so drained by battling this itinerate depression
A depression that is becoming more the norm

I listen to others’ advice in combating the seclusion
But all of the offerings require energy levels that cannot be summoned
Instead of looking forward to coming into the office to escape the trappings of home
I instead prefer the desolation experienced at home—a familiar territory that exists

Will my bipolar ever come under control?
Am I doomed to be classified as treatment-resistant?
It has often been said that I never do anything half-assed
So why should this experience be any different?

I am grateful I have a door to shut in my office
Passersby are less inclined to pop in with the commonplace news bites
I find myself leaving my headset on to deter the would-be drop-ins
Leaving the impression that I am occupied on the phone

I’ve become the clock-watcher all of a sudden
Eagerly looking forward to the forlorn environment of my home
At least here, there is a comfort zone that is all too familiar
Despite the fact that the environment is far more bleak

When forced to attend social gatherings lest I appear noncommittal
I have become the master of the great façade
Where, once at church I decided to be real without the mask
Even there I find the ease to retreat inward

I’ve been informed that God works on his own timetable
And encouraged that when the time is right, He is always on time
But I grow weary of all the distractions that bring me down
What is considered “Right on Time”?

And it isn’t always circumstances that spawn the depression
I can wake up after a night’s rest and only want to stay curled up in my fetal position
It is most difficult to have nothing to blame the despair
What was once an ephemeral occurrence has become the norm

I wish wholeheartedly that Zyprexa was not such a weight-gainer
But after losing 250 pounds I am unwilling to give any ground
It’s enough that I’ve gained 25 pounds in an eight-week period
Which just fuels the depression with an incendiary force

Along with the depression I’ve managed to entertain the mania once again
Hence my ability to be creative once again with my words
To the world these poems my appear weak and without form
But it is I who derives the benefit from such expression

I am not tottering on the brink of suicide, at least at the moment
My focal point has been isolation and introspection
It is within this self-inventory that further feeds my segregation
A vicious cycle I am doomed to repeat relentlessly

In a perfect world, I would never need to leave my house
I would be devoid of all human contact that only drains my energy
The internet has opened up sufficient portals to conduct all my business
Even contact with the outside world, but at my choosing

I have one fatal conundrum that conflicts with all that I have expressed here
I am realizing that I do not want to have to face the rest of my life without companionship
A partner that I am equal to that can share my innermost self
However, with this self-imposed seclusion, chances are slim to none

I have been out of the closet for more years than in
I’ve enjoyed a rich life replete with partners that complemented my life
However, with the outrageous and heart wrenching end of the most recent
I sought solace wherever I could find it

For a while I forged this relationship with God
And came upon a peace I had yet to experience
But this was the same time my bipolar meds were most efficient
So, what was the source of this peace—God or the cocktail?

So, just who exactly am I at this given moment?
An answer as elusive as a butterfly’s dance
Will I ever know who I am, and if I did, would I like what I see?
Only time will tell—a concept and reality that I have in abundance.
©2007

Can A Queer Person Become Straight?

If you listen to the right-winged fundamentalist Christian organizations (Focus on the Family, et. al.) you’d be given the impression that there are, indeed, programs that exist which can “cure” someone from being queer. Exodus International is what first springs into my mind when I think of these organizations. Moreover, the lingo “to cure” makes it sound as if being queer is a disease from which someone suffers. In fact, there are quite a few generalizations that are made on behalf of the straight community that simply resonates their ignorance toward the entire gay community.

Another term that I deplore is “lifestyle.” When I think of lifestyle, I think of Robin Leach’s Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. A lifestyle is a manner in which someone chooses to live. “Gosh, Penny, I’d really like to decorate our back porch along the lines of a Bahamian theme.” And that also brings up the very next word that sends chills down my spine: choice. Now, where should I start?

Being queer is not a lifestyle which assumes a choice is made, no more so than being straight. As I have said to many well-intentioned queer bashers, “When did you wake up one morning and decide to be straight?” It wasn’t as though I was bouncing around this lifespan and suddenly it occurs to me, “Hey, I think I’ll be queer.” Why on earth would someone ever choose to live a life doomed to perilous subjugation on the part of the majority of the population (it is said that approximately one in ten persons is queer, although, in my own humble opinion, I think that is quite a modest figure—may one in ten are out of the closet). Why would I choose to be yelled at, spit upon, most certainly, in some cases, physically beaten beyond recognition, and yes, even killed just because I am queer?

Theories abound regarding what makes one straight and another queer. Are we born this way? Is it a matter of social and environmental influences? The whys are better left for another diatribe, which I choose not to address here at this moment. What I want to spend time discussing is whether someone who is queer can become straight.

Being queer is inherently a part of someone’s make-up (no pun intended against my friendly queens!). There have been a number of studies that observed children over periods of time that addressed gender identity. In our culture, sadly to say, little girls and boys are conditioned to “become” rather than be accepted for whom they are evolving into. It isn’t OK for little girls to display masculine traits (tom boys). I wonder how many parents, upon seeing little Suzie trying to keep up with her older brother or the other boys in the neighborhood as they play cops and robbers, scurry down to the local toy store and buy Barbie dolls and the such to attempt to veer Suzie away from this form of social interaction? And isn’t there hell to pay if little Johnny gets caught playing around with Mommy’s make-up and clothes. Maybe Suzie really can kick the crap out of most of the boys in the neighborhood and Johnny has a real fascination with colors and textures (most of the high-end haute-couture houses are headed by men).

There is an actual fear among parents that their children will grow up and become “that way.” Well, what “way” is that? Being queer? What is so damn wrong with that anyway? About the only thing wrong with being queer is what 90% of the population has to say about this subject, all of which is negative. Did you realize that the suicide attempts among queer teenagers is at an all-time high? OK, so there is a difference of opinion that may exist. Parents may have a valid concern that their child may grow up queer if that concern is based upon the fear of the type of life to which he or she will be subject. If I were a parent of a teenager trying to find his or her place in this world and has discovered that he or she is queer, then my first concern would be one of safety. Why would I want my child exposed to ridicule and hatred? Instead of affirming the reality of the situation, most parents try to bully their children into being straight. I wonder how many boys are threatened with military boarding school. In my case, I had the luxury of going to an all-girl’s Catholic high school—if the nuns only knew what I learned there!

OK, so back to my original premise—can a queer become straight? I can say from personal experience that I truly believe that this answer is a resounding no. I have been through a reparative therapy course in which counselors attempt to convince queers of their wayward ways and brightly introduce them to the happy and fulfilling life being straight can bring them. These groups are all faith-based initiatives that derive their value on Biblical teachings. I can’t speak for the entire group I was in session with, but I can say with absolute certainty, there were a few of us who never did make the switch. And later, I learned that those in my group who “chose” (a word carefully adopted here) to go straight, get married, and have children ended up being in a miserable life—one in which they had no experience. Hormones are basic biology and sexual attraction is hard-wired into the brain. Trying to veer away from that is equally as harmful to one’s self-esteem and natural expression as bullying children into being “proper” little girls and boys.

Can a queer person choose to walk away from the gay community? By that, I mean, turn their back on the way one has been living his or her life with a same-sex partner and go it alone. There is quite a price to be paid here emotionally, but I do believe that this can be done. Why on earth, you might ask, would someone want to make this choice (and here, choice is exactly what is being made). During the course of my entire life (minus the minor dalliances with the Junior-Senior Prom date) I have been queer. But, at the same time I also considered myself a Christian. I did not see these two ideals as being mutually exclusive at the time. I even attended the local Metropolitan Community Church (MCC), which is a Christian organization that affirms the gay community. Sitting in an MCC service, to me, was no different from sitting in any other Christian service. There is an invocation at the beginning, the Word is read from the Epistles and the Gospel, communion is served, and there is the final benediction.

Ironically, it was during a Bible study class entitled “What the Bible Really Says About Homosexuality” that started the wheels turning in my head. Perhaps part of that was being exposed to a fundamentalist environment at one point in my life during that reparative therapy group. It occurred to me that you couldn’t take just pieces of the Bible, declare it OK, and leave other pieces out because you didn’t like what they had to say. The Bible either is or isn’t the inherent Word of God. It’s an all-or-nothing concept. Sure, it was written a few thousand years ago by quite a different culture by man; but the Christian supposition is that man wrote this book based upon the movement of the Holy Spirit. Those organizations that affirm the gay community have their spin on what the Bible says just as much as the fundamentalist Christian organizations. However, I will be the first to say that I never once heard any passages that spoke against homosexuality preached in an MCC church.

Ultimately, my heart ruled my decision. I decided, after quite a grief process, that I could no longer reconcile being the Christian I felt being called to be and queer. This now became a mutually exclusive dilemma for me. Therefore, I did choose to turn my back on the gay community, but I will be the first to tell you that I have not become straight. I guess I am like an ambassador without papers. I will always be a lesbian, but that does not mean that I have to live within the confines of what that entails. I choose not to have a same-sex partner, but my sacrifice is that I will live my life alone. I have lost many friendships over this decision by queers who simply either don’t understand why, or feel I am doing more harm to myself than good. It boils down to the fact that I do believe in my heart that the Bible is the Word of God (both the Old and New Testament) and I have to take all of what it says as my truth for me as I see it. Maybe it’s my political activism that wants me to keep hold of my identity as a lesbian, celibate though it may be. I may no longer be active in the gay community, but I will never be straight.©2007