another year

normally, i'm the kind of person who is highly refective. i usually post something around this time considering the year, what i accomplished, and what i'd like to see in the coming year.

i don't particularly want to do that this year.

but, i'm going to make myself do it.

2017 was a really good year. it was a year that i finally found balance and learned how to love myself and take care of myself in a way that didn't perpetuate shame for the ways i had seemingly let myself down. i learned contentment.

and then there was 2018. nothing about this year was what i expected it to be. to consider some of the goals i had set for myself: i didn't finish my thesis or theology degree, i didn't leave the country, i didn't get a new tattoo. i did, however, launch a private practice (sort of), lose 20+lbs, knit a harry potter sweater, and i have almost written a book (though it is not the one i had in mind when i set the goal).

again, i am reminded that much of what i have accomplished is not specifically measurable, so i suppose i should consider the second set of goals i had for the year:

love well and as much as possible learn always stop being an awkward mess spend more time with hella queer people chill the fuck out

i think i accomplished these. it wasn't easy. in fact, it was magical, holy, scary, heartbreaking, and painful. and i'm still not sure where i stand. at this point last year, i was very sure of my footing and ready for whatever was to come. this year, at this point, i don't feel so steady. which is simply to say that given how the year progressed, it is not ending how i thought it would. given where i stood at this point last year, i am not where i thought i'd be.

in many ways, i have taken leaps forward this year. and in some ways it seems i have to catch back up to the person i was at the end of 2017. i'm trying to hold those two things together.

next year, i'm keeping two goals: love well learn always

nye2017

so i didn’t accomplish all of my goals for this year, but i’m happy with what i did. it was not a great year for the country as a whole, but personally it was a banner year after a few that were not so great. highlights include going to queer camp, getting a new tattoo, and returning to Scotland.

i started this year solidly in recovery mode, and i can honestly say that i have made it back to (mostly) fully functional and happy. i feel pretty good about the work i have done, the space i am in, and what’s up ahead. it is so good to feel this way again.

the best ways i have cared for myself this year included travel, reading, and working hard to finish school. i am incredibly privileged to get to visit other places in the world, to learn from them, and to get outside of myself in that way. i am incredibly privileged to have access to books that are fun, teach me things, and keep me growing. in this spirit, here is my year in books and cities:

2017 in Cities

Los Angeles/Redondo Beach, CA
Vancouver, BC, Canada
London, England
Edinburgh, Scotland
Inverness, Scotland
Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland
(And numerous Scottish towns in between)
Sacramento, CA
Salt Lake City, UT
Tombstone, AZ
Silver City, NM
Austin, TX
New York, NY

2017 in Books

Outlander - Diana Gabaldon
Dragonfly In Amber - Diana Gabaldon
Voyager - Diana Gabaldon
Drums of Autumn - Diana Gabaldon
The Fiery Cross - Diana Gabaldon
A Breath of Snow and Ashes - Diana Gabaldon
An Echo in the Bone - Diana Gabaldon
Written in My Own Heart’s Blood - Diana Gabaldon
Kindred - Octavia Butler
Parable of the Sower - Octavia Butler
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - JK Rowling
A Ring of Endless Light - Madeleine L’Engle
A Wrinkle in Time - Madeleine L’Engle
A Wind in the Door - Madeleine L’Engle
A Swiftly Tilting Planet - Madeleine L’Engle
Many Waters - Madeleine L’Engle
Between the World and Me - Ta-Nehisi Coates
Time Lord Fairy Tales
The Fifth Season - NK Jemisin
The Obelisk Gate - NK Jemisin
The Stone Sky - NK Jemisin

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here are my goals for next year.

graduate again
launch a private practice
leave the country (to visit, not move...yet)
get a tattoo
lose 20lbs
join a soccer team
finish writing my book
read one book per month (for fun) - all new books written by queer/trans or POCs
write a thesis
create one piece of art per month
visit the family
finish knitting a harry potter sweater

i learned this last year that a lot of what i accomplished wasn’t quite as measurable as the goals that i had made for myself, so in that spirit, here are some general things i’d like to accomplish this year as well:

love well and as much as possible
learn always
stop being an awkward mess
spend more time with hella queer people
play more video games
chill the fuck out

here's to 2018!

coming out, catching up, filling in the gaps

this post is intended to cover a few details from the last couple years that i have slacked on the posting. and to celebrate asexuality awareness week. i wasn’t sure what would come out when i sat down to write, but i feel such a sense of release after letting this out.

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i have had this blog in various iterations for over fifteen years. sadly, i haven’t written in over two years, and i find that most unfortunate because i think the most has changed in these two years than any other period of my life. not simply circumstantial change, but soul-changing growth.

sometimes i go back and read through old posts to remind myself how far i have come. more recently though, i don’t recognize myself in the words that i read. i am not proud of all of my words or everything i did. but this is me. i want to figure out how to hold all of the parts of my story.

i am the same seven-year-old who would rather play baseball than barbies.

i am the same thirteen-year-old full of angst who just wanted to know that i matter.

i am the same twenty-two-year-old who would leave everything for the chance at adventure.

i am the same twenty-seven-year-old privileged theologian completely oblivious to what’s around the corner.

in the last two-three years i have experienced a major depressive episode, gone on medication, been ready to die, gone off medication, and found peace. i let all of the spinning plates fall down around me, and i learned that i will survive, and still be loved, when i fail. i became a therapist, traveled to Europe, turned 30…and came out as queer.

the funny thing is, this isn’t a new process and it isn’t new information. i was discovering my queer identity when i was four and when i was fourteen. when i turned seventeen i became a christian, and queerness became (implicitly and explicitly) not okay. i quit queerness cold turkey.

for a long time i tried to fit the model of womanhood that the church and society idolizes. i tried to care about makeup and dresses. i convinced myself that my goal in life was to find a husband, get married and have kids. i tried. i unwittingly deceived myself.

and then at some point something switched. it started with processing the bullshit social construct called "virginity." believe it or not, theology dragged me through the next few steps, as i internalized my inherent worthiness - whether or not i met societal expectations. theology also opened my eyes to patriarchy, white supremacy, and privilege. and i couldn't pretend anymore.

i don't like labels. ask me if i identify with something and i will probably take a deep breath, look thoughtfully into the air and begin with a "weeelllll......" but there is one i will own: i am queer.

i love this term because it is non-dualistic. it is specific, yet open. it implies imagination and invites flexibility. i love it because it hopes you will ask me more. i am queer.

i hope your next question is "what does that mean for you?"

for me queer means that i balk at societal expectations of what gender is supposed to be. i love the feminine and masculine aspects of my personhood and i express whatever feels true to me to express at any given time. it also means that i can feel beautiful even though i don't look like people who usually get this label.

for me queer means that sex is not the most important thing in the world to me. sexuality is bigger than what genitals come together - or don't. connection and intimacy is meaningful to me, and i experience that in myriad ways with many and multiple people.

queer means that i imagine possibilities for the fullness of life that cannot be imagined in racist, misogynistic, or closed systems. and it means that my existence is a form of resistance to these systems.

queer also means that i belong to a community of the marginalized. it means that i experience discomfort, disrespect and sometimes fear in public spaces where people are close-minded and ignorant. it means that i experience hurt from people who are close to me who don't try to understand where i'm coming from or how heteronormativity is damaging to all of us. it means that i am alienated from cisgender, heterosexual circles - intentional or not.

i am queer.

i would not be at this point today without the journey i have been on. i cannot throw away my queerness or my theology. and yet, there are few places where i can hold them both together. for me, this is the personal task at hand: to integrate queer and spiritual identities. i know it is possible, and i am so ready for it.

i hope this marks a return to writing for me. this has been good for my soul.

Resolved

Hello all. I have been feeling like I need to write things down, to update, to celebrate.

Some of you saw my list of things I would like to accomplish this year on FB. If not, here it is:

January - posture training February - "Of Poetry and Protest" read one poem per day out of this anthology March - try a new church every Sunday April - daily yoga May - new tattoo June - finish writing my book July - create one piece of art per week August - practice forgiveness September - leave the country October - do one thing for someone else per day November - no Netflix for one week December - read one book per month

I reserved the right to make revisions, and I will do so. First, rather than associating things with specific months of the year, I'm just making a list of 12 things I want to accomplish.

1. Posture training
2. Read "Of Poetry and Protest," one poem per day for one month
3. Lose 20lbs
4. Join a soccer team
5. Get a new tattoo
6. Finish writing my book
7. Create one piece of art per week for one month
8. Graduate
9. Leave the country
10. Do one thing for someone else every day for a month
11. No Netflix for one week
12. Read one book per month

I'm updating because I have already made a lot of progress on these goals!

-I have been posture training since January. It is slow going, but I'm doing it. -I read "Of Poetry and Protest," and was blown away by the voices of oppression and the way they use their art to speak truth. -I joined a beginners soccer team! -I visited Vancouver in February, and I have trips to Scotland and Spain planned for later this year. -I have read almost 12 books so far this year! I haven't read like this in ages. I hope I can keep it up all year long!

It isn't just exciting that I'm accomplishing goals. The really exciting piece is that I feel good. I feel good for the first time in a long time. I'm healthy - mentally, physically, spiritually. I'm happy.

how goes it with your soul?

oh, how i miss hearing that question every week. i miss the vulnerable encounter of speaking one's deepest truth and being met with grace in the soul of another. i miss the curiosity that followed, the honest desire to understand and to commune with one another in whatever space we found ourselves. at the time, it seemed tedious. no one was content with trite answers, and i couldn't get away with my normal tactics of deflection and vagueness. but it was so good for me.

because for as much as i advocate for deep, vulnerable and authentic relationships, and for as good as i am at inviting vulnerability for others, i actually quite suck at it.

i have had relationships in the past where we just don't talk about difficult subjects. i have had people respond to my deepest truths by trying to convince me that i am wrong for thinking or feeling what i did in the moment. and i have had people completely disengage from our friendship when i was honest about what was going on with me. i have learned that being my truest self is not safe. i have learned that i am too crazy for most people to know what to do with.

i am trying to fix this. it is like learning to walk. sometimes i fall flat on my face by saying something that is unintentionally hurtful or just not appropriate for that particular moment. sometimes i don't know what i want or need. sometimes i know, but i don't know how to ask for it. sometimes i just need to get back on my hands and knees and crawl for a bit.

so, the rest of this blog is my attempt to articulate what is going on inside of me. this is me trying to make sense of what feels like an overwhelming deluge.

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fall quarter brought a lot of change. that wasn't surprising, i was anticipating all of it. it appears, though, that i did not set myself up for success in these changes, or at the very least couldn't anticipate the way these changes have affected me.

leaving my church has been so difficult. in different ways than i articulated when i posted about it previously. my theology has been growing and changing so much in the last year that leaving my church has equalled something more like stepping off of solid ground onto a skateboard for the first time. i do not have my balance. i don't know where my beliefs fit, and what's more is i don't know where i fit. for as much as my church was spiritually unsatisfying for the last couple years i was there, it was familiar. i didn't attend any service for three months, and the result has been that i do not have my feet underneath me, spiritually speaking.

i also started my internship in the fall. it is affecting me in ways that i would not have anticipated either. i swing wildly back and forth between feeling competent and feeling utterly overwhelmed. people's lives are in my hands. perhaps that is an exaggeration, but these people are looking to me for help, and i am not so sure i can give it. i wonder whether i can handle this for the rest of my life. i wonder whether this is really what i want to do, or even what i am good at. for the most part, these feelings are normal. but eventually they are supposed to go away. eventually you are supposed to get the hang of things. this hasn't happened for me yet. i don't have my professional feet underneath me yet.

i left california after my little christmas stint with my family feeling a strong need to further differentiate myself from that life that i am in some ways very invested in, but in most ways entirely separate from. i don't fit there anymore.

my family also had a health scare over the holidays. between that and a few other situational things, i find myself facing the reality of the way of living that i have chosen for myself. i choose to be single and celibate. i enjoy my life. but at the end of the day, that choice leads to certain conclusions. for as committed as i am to those i love, there is always the possibility of something less from them. likewise, i am no one's number one priority. no one considers me when making decisions. because of these things, i will always end my days alone. this is a hard realization to come to. my choice to be single affords me a lot of wonderful possibilities. but this is the difficulty of the other side of the coin. i am forced to face the reality of at least a small amount of perpetual uncertainty when it comes to my relationships.

no part of my life feels safe, secure, or firm. i don't feel as though i can set my feet on anything to get my balance. what's more is that i don't know how to talk about what that is doing to my soul. i don't know how to say that i am more anxious than i have been in 5 years, towing the line of panic attacks, reminding myself every moment that i have to breathe. i don't know how to say that i don't want to get out of bed in the morning, and that i cry more days than i don't. moreover, i don't know what talking about it would accomplish. i don't know what would help. i don't know what anyone could do or say to give me comfort. but i know that i want to be seen, heard and held. i don't want to have to pretend that i am okay in order for people to love me. i want it to be okay that i am not perfect.

i want to know it is safe to be real.

on endings and beginnings

i have not blogged well or consistently this year. i wonder whether that is due to a lack of words to say, or the fear of putting words to what is happening inside of me. maybe both.

2014 has ended, perhaps one of the hardest and most wonderful years of my life. and 2015 has begun, and i am inching ever closer to the fulfillment of my goals, to some form of the achievement of "success," and the deep and abiding fear that comes with it.

fall was difficult, to say the least. i am a therapist now. i have clients, the stakes are higher now than they ever have been. i have not found my footing. i question myself, my desires and abilities, and wonder if i will ever feel competent. some days are better than others.

fall was also a time of spiritual space. as in, i took some from church. i did not attend services on sundays between september and december, save one to support a friend. this has taken a toll on me, though it has felt necessary. come this sunday i will make my return, in a new environment, and i will begin the task of relearning what it means to worship corporately in a sanctuary. i am somewhat nervous for this, as it has been quite some time since i can recall being truly worshipful during a sunday morning service.

perhaps because of this space, and the way that i have encountered god in it despite being disconnected from a worshipping community, i have joined a group of people called the well who are committed to prayer, scripture, worship and fellowship. i feel called to this space, but i am still learning what it looks like for me to be a part of it. for example, i have failed at being in scripture daily, because scripture and i have not been on speaking terms in nearly a year. i have encountered god far more intimately outside of it than inside, and i have questioned the role it plays in a life of faith. at the same time, i feel the desire to reconcile with scripture, to encounter the Word in the word, and to actually figure out what i believe its role to be. so i am going back and beginning with the gospels, to hopefully encounter the jesus who shifted my being so solidly as to necessitate the break in the first place.

i feel simultaneously incredibly full and incredibly empty, and i don't understand how that can be so. i am filled by the beauty of those i hold dear: the ones who will cry and laugh with me, sit in broken spaces with me, and whose little giggles and cuddles lift me high. and i am emptied by the sense of perpetual change that exists in my current state of being, by the fear that despite the familial nature of the company i keep i will always be alone, and awareness of the razor thin edge of the line i walk between success and failure in my career.

so, deeply i inhale the beginnings of this year, breathing in the animating presence of the one who is with me and you and us. remembering this breath is the same presence that names, calls, moves and sustains.

on bearing the weight of our humanity

we cannot do it alone.

nor are we meant to.

all of the beauty, joy, laughter, hope, is meant to be shared.

and so is all of the brokenness, pain, despair.

because each moment holds a little bit of both of these kinds of things. and trying to bear the weight of all of this alone is very nearly impossible.

we are better together, being held up and held by each other. we need other voices around us to keep us from getting stuck in our own heads and hearts.

fear keeps us isolated, because while we cannot do it alone, we also tend to do it imperfectly, making mistakes and hurting people as we go. it is easy to fear the potential pain that vulnerability to others opens us up for. but with the courage to love boldly in the face of that fear, it does not win. love wins, and love is always worth the risk. and we learn and grow along the way.