At the second coming of Christ, when all
are resurrected, I imagine there will be great justice when Jesus walks up to Joseph Smith, restored in flesh
and blood, and kicks him in the crotch.
At which point, Christ will
show his great love and mercy by allowing the rest of us to do the same.
Showing posts with label retribution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label retribution. Show all posts
Friday, May 18, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
It’s Not Over Until It’s Over
So, the Internet is all a buzz over the 9th Circuit Court ruling overturning Prop 8 in California. So much is being written about its details and specifics that I don’t think I need to add anything to it.
This is such a bittersweet moment. I'm happy and I'm sad at the same time.
The talks, discussions, arguments and yes, even the insane, bigoted, demonizing rants from some active LDS members and other religious fundamentalists that I've witnessed, and had to endure, over the last few days on Facebook, all pretty much fit in with the predictable pattern of human behavior that is based on extreme religious fundamentalism such as Mormonism as they go through culture changes. Even drawing from my own experience as an angry and raging ex-Mormon homosexual who has been continually wronged by the hateful domination of my religious peers, and speaking hateful like language on my own blog towards the religions they've committed their loyalty to, I'm not completely innocent in my own rants. But what is setting me apart in this is that I’m now aware of my own reality.
I can understand where they are and I know what drives their fears, and I’m not trying to prevent them from living their religion, even if I find it misguided and hateful. I’m also aware that I used to be one of them. But now I’ve seen and experienced both sides, and I know that their fear is unfounded. But they only know the shadows on the cave wall, which now look even more threatening to them than ever before.
We may have won this little fight, but the backlash, bullying, and violence are going to swell because of this. The twisted, fear-crazed, religious fundamentalists, which includes much of the active LDS membership, right along with other fundamentalist around the nation, most of them in the south and mid-west, are going to be expressing their fear, hate, and rage in ways we've never seen before. I fully expect to see an acceleration of the continual upsurge of violence toward LGBT people as this so-called "culture war" escalates.
I know I'm considered a pessimist in this but sadly, this is just the way it is; this is reality.
It will be several decades before it's even close to being over. Even if the Supreme Court granted full national marriage rights in 2014, there will always be several generations of hateful and dangerous bigots to contend with.
It's going to get a lot worse before it gets better.
This is such a bittersweet moment. I'm happy and I'm sad at the same time.
The talks, discussions, arguments and yes, even the insane, bigoted, demonizing rants from some active LDS members and other religious fundamentalists that I've witnessed, and had to endure, over the last few days on Facebook, all pretty much fit in with the predictable pattern of human behavior that is based on extreme religious fundamentalism such as Mormonism as they go through culture changes. Even drawing from my own experience as an angry and raging ex-Mormon homosexual who has been continually wronged by the hateful domination of my religious peers, and speaking hateful like language on my own blog towards the religions they've committed their loyalty to, I'm not completely innocent in my own rants. But what is setting me apart in this is that I’m now aware of my own reality.
I can understand where they are and I know what drives their fears, and I’m not trying to prevent them from living their religion, even if I find it misguided and hateful. I’m also aware that I used to be one of them. But now I’ve seen and experienced both sides, and I know that their fear is unfounded. But they only know the shadows on the cave wall, which now look even more threatening to them than ever before.
We may have won this little fight, but the backlash, bullying, and violence are going to swell because of this. The twisted, fear-crazed, religious fundamentalists, which includes much of the active LDS membership, right along with other fundamentalist around the nation, most of them in the south and mid-west, are going to be expressing their fear, hate, and rage in ways we've never seen before. I fully expect to see an acceleration of the continual upsurge of violence toward LGBT people as this so-called "culture war" escalates.
I know I'm considered a pessimist in this but sadly, this is just the way it is; this is reality.
It will be several decades before it's even close to being over. Even if the Supreme Court granted full national marriage rights in 2014, there will always be several generations of hateful and dangerous bigots to contend with.
It's going to get a lot worse before it gets better.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
How Not To Love
I have a complicated ego. (Don't we all?) It shields me from reality, keeping me lost in the sea of its preconceived notion of itself. And then shields me from the crap that its preconceived notion emits by rationalizing it into something else. Ultimately, how I end up seeing myself is completely different from how others see me. Who gets the correct view of whom I am? Neither. Both are pretty much fucked up.
When it comes to shit like that, friendships can be, and will get, utterly destroyed. And my ego, in its attempt to take the moral high ground by attempting to not judge their responses, can't see what harm has been done to that other person. Completely oblivious really. It's so messed up.
What it ultimately comes down to is my ego butting heads with someone else's ego. And my ego will not let me see that that is what I'm doing. Yes, my battered and bruised ego, injured from decades of abuse, screams out acidic tirades in frustration, all the while telling me it's simply expressing a truth that other people need to understand. No concept of whether it's appropriate or even relevant. It's oblivious to that reality. And then my ego has the audacity to be confused and offended, if that screaming is rejected, dismissed or challenged.
So what am I going on about?
Me shoving my Dirty Laundry into other people's faces.
No one likes that shit. No one. It's a lose-lose. Always has been, always will be.
I would have imagined that in time I could open up to people. Come out of the closet about this blog. To remove the anonymity and let it stand as a connection to my past. Show how I've worked through things, and come to learn who I am. But now, I'm not so sure this blog should exist. It may need to disappear completely and permanently off the Internet. I may need to disappear completely and permanently off the Internet too.
All the plans I had, wiped out by my own arrogance and smug self-righteousness. Oblivious I was. Fucking oblivious. Patting myself on the back for all the great work I've done only to find I've done nothing but make enemies where I had none before. They had done NOTHING to me. They had been patiently putting up with my bullshit for DECADES. They had defended me and stood-up for me when I was at my most assholishness. They didn't give a shit that I was gay. They didn't give a shit I left the church. And then, I turn around and spit on them to feed my little bruised ego. What was I trying to gain from that? A reason to say, "Oh poor me. Look, see, no one really likes me." Self induced pity. This entire blog has turned into a pity party for me. What the fuck was I thinking?
I don't care if people think that they shouldn't have been offended by what I was doing. That's no excuse. Why? Because deep down I knew that what I was doing was going to offend. I may not have known why, or how or who specifically, but I did know it would offend, on purpose. I was trying to push buttons.
I have written and spoken at times about how it is not my responsibility to protect other people's view of the world by compromising who I am. I still mean it. It's just that in this case, I crossed the line and compromised myself in an attempt to selfishly destroy someone else's view of the world. That's a big difference! When my view of the world changed, it wasn't because someone was shoveling it on me. I did it on my own because I needed to do it. But then I snapped. Something had triggered my pain. I quickly forgot my experiences and selfishly expected that others needed their world view changed. Even when it was working perfectly well for them, maybe even better than the one I was currently trying to shovel. It was pure hypocrisy from a lapse of self-awareness.
I can say it like I see it but it doesn't matter if buttons are purposely pushed. They will only create conflict and close hearts, hearts that have been so willing to work with me and let me be myself. Hearts that put up with the button pushing until it became so toxic that they had to shut down to protect themselves from annihilation. Pushing to that point is poison. It's healthy to remove toxic people from your life. But I didn't realize that I would be the toxin. I lost my awareness of that.
But get this, even though I had been pushing buttons for decades, the weird thing was, only recently had I become aware I had been purposely pushing buttons. That seems odd, doesn't it? The ego was in charge, and I was oblivious. I had not understood how stupid it was. How destructive, how evil. In fact, my ego thought it was just the way I do things. I even told people in all confidence that I'm the type that needs to test people. As if "on purpose" wasn't really "on purpose". I really thought I had figured that part out. I was proud of myself. Oblivious to what it really truly was. Oblivious to what others already knew. A character flaw, personality disorder, mental illness, whatever. It is all those things but most importantly, to the unbeknown victim, it is the definition of an asshole.
But then I realized what I was doing was wrong. I understood that it was a flaw, I understood its error and acknowledged it, I even stopped doing it, or so my ego told me. No, I hadn't stopped doing it at all. I had only stopped doing it to new friends. I was still doing it to my old friends. I wasn't aware that my habitual, destructive behavior had not gone away. I was still a raging asshole. After all these years, after all I've gone through. Still, a raging asshole.
I need to forgive myself and move on. The damage is done. No amount of apology will be believed at this point. I brought that on myself. It's over. Some may forgive me. I may never know. I don't know what else I can do other than take the punches as they are returned. And they are still punching. It's their right.
I could say that I love my friends but if I really do, then I would be letting them live their life just like they have been letting me live mine. So until I can lean to do that, I'm not capable of truly loving someone. But, I want to love, so I'm going to keep trying.
You know, this entire blog was set up to air my Dirty Laundry. I haven't always used it for that but that's what its main purpose was. Why on earth would I think that anyone would want to read it? And I hope that no one finds it. Because if they think the shit I put on Facebook was offensive, most of which I don't even write, wait until they read the drivel here.
And that's another thing, if I could just fucking stop airing my Dirty Laundry on Facebook. Of all the places not to do that, Facebook would be the one. There really are places I can go which would be appropriate, for one, the therapist's chair, and here, once I make it a private blog. It will do no good to try and erase the past. The internet has made that impossible. I'll have to own up to it eventually.
I do not pity myself for all this mess, so for hell's sake don't pity me. I believe this is the essence of the human condition, to live, learn, and love. I'm doing my best with what I have and there are bumps along the way. And what I've learned so far is how not to love.
When it comes to shit like that, friendships can be, and will get, utterly destroyed. And my ego, in its attempt to take the moral high ground by attempting to not judge their responses, can't see what harm has been done to that other person. Completely oblivious really. It's so messed up.
What it ultimately comes down to is my ego butting heads with someone else's ego. And my ego will not let me see that that is what I'm doing. Yes, my battered and bruised ego, injured from decades of abuse, screams out acidic tirades in frustration, all the while telling me it's simply expressing a truth that other people need to understand. No concept of whether it's appropriate or even relevant. It's oblivious to that reality. And then my ego has the audacity to be confused and offended, if that screaming is rejected, dismissed or challenged.
So what am I going on about?
Me shoving my Dirty Laundry into other people's faces.
No one likes that shit. No one. It's a lose-lose. Always has been, always will be.
I would have imagined that in time I could open up to people. Come out of the closet about this blog. To remove the anonymity and let it stand as a connection to my past. Show how I've worked through things, and come to learn who I am. But now, I'm not so sure this blog should exist. It may need to disappear completely and permanently off the Internet. I may need to disappear completely and permanently off the Internet too.
All the plans I had, wiped out by my own arrogance and smug self-righteousness. Oblivious I was. Fucking oblivious. Patting myself on the back for all the great work I've done only to find I've done nothing but make enemies where I had none before. They had done NOTHING to me. They had been patiently putting up with my bullshit for DECADES. They had defended me and stood-up for me when I was at my most assholishness. They didn't give a shit that I was gay. They didn't give a shit I left the church. And then, I turn around and spit on them to feed my little bruised ego. What was I trying to gain from that? A reason to say, "Oh poor me. Look, see, no one really likes me." Self induced pity. This entire blog has turned into a pity party for me. What the fuck was I thinking?
I don't care if people think that they shouldn't have been offended by what I was doing. That's no excuse. Why? Because deep down I knew that what I was doing was going to offend. I may not have known why, or how or who specifically, but I did know it would offend, on purpose. I was trying to push buttons.
I have written and spoken at times about how it is not my responsibility to protect other people's view of the world by compromising who I am. I still mean it. It's just that in this case, I crossed the line and compromised myself in an attempt to selfishly destroy someone else's view of the world. That's a big difference! When my view of the world changed, it wasn't because someone was shoveling it on me. I did it on my own because I needed to do it. But then I snapped. Something had triggered my pain. I quickly forgot my experiences and selfishly expected that others needed their world view changed. Even when it was working perfectly well for them, maybe even better than the one I was currently trying to shovel. It was pure hypocrisy from a lapse of self-awareness.
I can say it like I see it but it doesn't matter if buttons are purposely pushed. They will only create conflict and close hearts, hearts that have been so willing to work with me and let me be myself. Hearts that put up with the button pushing until it became so toxic that they had to shut down to protect themselves from annihilation. Pushing to that point is poison. It's healthy to remove toxic people from your life. But I didn't realize that I would be the toxin. I lost my awareness of that.
But get this, even though I had been pushing buttons for decades, the weird thing was, only recently had I become aware I had been purposely pushing buttons. That seems odd, doesn't it? The ego was in charge, and I was oblivious. I had not understood how stupid it was. How destructive, how evil. In fact, my ego thought it was just the way I do things. I even told people in all confidence that I'm the type that needs to test people. As if "on purpose" wasn't really "on purpose". I really thought I had figured that part out. I was proud of myself. Oblivious to what it really truly was. Oblivious to what others already knew. A character flaw, personality disorder, mental illness, whatever. It is all those things but most importantly, to the unbeknown victim, it is the definition of an asshole.
But then I realized what I was doing was wrong. I understood that it was a flaw, I understood its error and acknowledged it, I even stopped doing it, or so my ego told me. No, I hadn't stopped doing it at all. I had only stopped doing it to new friends. I was still doing it to my old friends. I wasn't aware that my habitual, destructive behavior had not gone away. I was still a raging asshole. After all these years, after all I've gone through. Still, a raging asshole.
I need to forgive myself and move on. The damage is done. No amount of apology will be believed at this point. I brought that on myself. It's over. Some may forgive me. I may never know. I don't know what else I can do other than take the punches as they are returned. And they are still punching. It's their right.
I could say that I love my friends but if I really do, then I would be letting them live their life just like they have been letting me live mine. So until I can lean to do that, I'm not capable of truly loving someone. But, I want to love, so I'm going to keep trying.
You know, this entire blog was set up to air my Dirty Laundry. I haven't always used it for that but that's what its main purpose was. Why on earth would I think that anyone would want to read it? And I hope that no one finds it. Because if they think the shit I put on Facebook was offensive, most of which I don't even write, wait until they read the drivel here.
And that's another thing, if I could just fucking stop airing my Dirty Laundry on Facebook. Of all the places not to do that, Facebook would be the one. There really are places I can go which would be appropriate, for one, the therapist's chair, and here, once I make it a private blog. It will do no good to try and erase the past. The internet has made that impossible. I'll have to own up to it eventually.
I do not pity myself for all this mess, so for hell's sake don't pity me. I believe this is the essence of the human condition, to live, learn, and love. I'm doing my best with what I have and there are bumps along the way. And what I've learned so far is how not to love.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Claiming My Life
This blog isn't working for me anymore. In particular, the current format of trying to maintain my anonymity. What was this anonymity suppose to help me with anyway? It's has a good side but it's mostly been a curse.
The good side is that I was able to work out my feelings somewhat publicly and vent my real frustrations openly and without restraint and fear of retribution from someone that would take offence of what I would say. Although there isn't that much evidence that I'm in any danger of retribution. But, I certainly don't want my co-workers, relatives and friends to read a lot of this drivel. Even so, a few co-workers and family have read this blog. But then I actually went as far as inviting those people to read it. Duh!
The curse is that I feel restricted in what I can talk about as long as I'm trying to stay anonymous. I thought anonymity would make it easier but the way I see it, the situations, conversations and events that happen in my life, the ones I want to write about, are so bloody public already that mentioning them here would give me away. There are many things I would like to have posted but didn't because the events were too specific. I've tried to avoid mentioning specific people and, if I do, avoid using real names, but even that isn't good enough. I realize the chances of the wrong person finding these posts are slim, but they are not none.
But one thing is for sure, this anonymous game has taught me that I'm still in the closet. I'm still trying to live a double life. The life of how I really feel verse the life I want people to think I feel. But ultimately, it's apparent that anonymity isn't my real problem. It's just the symptom.
My real problem is that I worry about what people think. Especially if I believe it's negative. I don't usually get hurt by negative comments like I used to but I still have my moments and naturally want to avoid them, especially here when I'm trying to express my more authentic self.
Most of the rude and negative people I've had to deal with were in email, on Facebook, and in person. So, I naturally assume that the same thing is going to happen here. This is 100% public. Not limited like Facebook and email. Any crazy asshole can post here. But, it's not the assholes that worry me. It's everyone else. The ones I care about. The people that have gotten to know me here. And the ones I know in person. I care about people. I care too deeply. And I'm embarrassed because I haven't been 100% truthful. I'm still hiding myself, I'm still afraid of letting people into my life and letting them see all that I'm about.
So, part of me is bristling to shed the anonymity and bust out of my shell. The other part is still scared as hell of rejection. The more people I know who read this blog, the more I plague the course of my writing with assumptions about what I suppose people want or don't want to read. I thought by making it anonymous I was avoiding that. But it didn't matter. They didn't even have to say anything. I assumed what they were going to say before they even say it. And 100% of the time, my assumptions are wrong.
So, when the comments came, very few were negative, most were encouraging. The ones that were negative came from my mom. But she didn't post a comment; she called instead. What she said actually didn't bother me. This seems ridiculous but what she said actually didn't bother me, it was the positive comments that fed my ego.
By avoiding certain subjects or areas of my life, I could continue writing about things that would appease to get more pleasant comments, rather than go in my desired direction. I did more than keep the status quo. I started to gear it back. In one of my posts, I even made a big deal out of not taking a direction that I really wanted to take because I was afraid of possibly displeasing my readers and eliciting negative comments. I even found a way to convince myself it was what I wanted to do. Looking back at that, I am still angry with myself for copping out. This non risk-taking pattern had been building for the past three months in all aspects of my life. As I fell into the trap of not thinking for myself, the frustration and anger built up and I exploded.
Even so, the comments that I've received have meant such a great deal to me I can't even begin to explain how. Even the simple acknowledgments that I'm not alone are very rewarding. But I continue in fear that I will write something offensive and drive someone away. Hell, it may have happened a few times in the past as I've seen my followers list shrink. But then I've stopped following blogs before, and getting upset for losing a follower makes me a hypocrite. They went a direction that didn't interest me so I left, ironically the ones that have offended me I still follow. So, I would hope that they left because I'm not of interest as opposed to being offensive. Yeah, I see it as rejection either way and I hate it but I hope I'm getting better at not caring about it.
Some aspects of my self-esteem are still dependent on outside validation. And thus, I want comments. I want to know what others think. I want people to interact with me and be frank and honest. If they don't like what I say, and feel a need to disagree, then by all means I want them to. So far the only comment that came close to stating a disagreement was in green and purple's comment when he said, "I agree with almost all that you say." I'm curious what the little bit was he didn't agree with. He's right in that it doesn't matter, but still, my curiosity gets to me and ultimately the disagreements can be learning experiences in and of themselves as they challenge my ego; help me understand the holes in my self-esteem.
But, with that being said, I've started to get a sense that the comments left by readers are not always there for me. They're for the readers. As I've been poking around the blogosphere making comments on other people's blogs, I've noticed that when I've written comments I was essentially venting. That, in effect, actually helped me clarify a thought in my head. In the end, the comment was just something I needed to get off my chest and didn't matter if the author of the blog read it or not. Although, whether they agree or disagree, it's still quite satisfying when the blogger or someone responds to it or references it in a future blog post. At least it's evidence that someone noticed it.
The other aspect of all this is that I'm lonely, desperately lonely. I'm acutely aware that my desire to fill that loneliness hole, a hole that severely depresses me often, feeds my desire for comments. And that is a hard thing to admit openly because this depression and unhappiness is all some people in my life need as evidence to fuel their anti-gay religious shit and throw it in my face. If I can put on that happy face they have no case and will leave me alone with their silly "wickedness was never happiness" bullshit and how turning way from God and the church is the reason I have these holes in my soul.
It's so fucking pathetic. I'm right back to where I was a few years ago when I was a miserable, Mormon, fuck with a plastic smile so that I wouldn't make the church look bad. Now I'm a miserable, lonely, fuck with a plastic smile so I don't make the Gay, ex-Mormons look bad. Fucking bullshit! And I'm being a drama queen! Yes, it still makes me angry; I still have a lot of bitterness left in me. But I should be 100% honest, I'm not as miserable now as I was then. But still, any misery sucks and I hate it and I just want to scream.
But, as of late, not all of the bullshit has been related to Mormons or their silly beliefs. It's been bigoted and ignorant co-workers, slummy landlords, thieves breaking in to my house, distant family, shitty job, distant friends, my shrinking bank account, and no one to talk to about any of it at the end of a hard day. For the last few months I've been wondering, what I am going to do? Where am I going to go? And with all of that, there is the added frustration and anger of not finding an answer. Again, another aspect of all of this apparent misfortune is that those silly Mormons are going to use it as evidence that God is punishing me for leaving the church to have gay sex.
It just keeps coming back to worrying about what people think. And it goes back as far as I can remember. Hell, just read some of my past posts! I totally dwell on shit from my past over, and over, and over...ad nauseam. Yes, we all know now that my past sucked and I'm still not over it. Give it a rest, right? Easier said than done. Besides, I get to decide when to give it rest anyway.
I've been struggling for a long time trying to find a way to reconcile or connect in constructive ways with my past. I wanted to remember all of those times were I got misdirected so that I could change or realign the beliefs I formed around them, beliefs that misinformed me later in life and continue to do so; such as why I still care what other people think of me. But it got daunting. My past was so vast and my memory so jumbled and broken, I was getting frustrated with that alone.
A few days ago, I stumbled across a photo album that my dad sent to me few years ago. In it were miscellaneous photos of me mostly between the ages of 3-16. Many of these struck me as odd because I had no memory of the event captured in the image. Others, I had a clear memory of them and was surprised by the memory. Some were good, many were bad. But all of them invoked a thought or emotion of some kind. I realized that some of these pictures captured events in my life where a belief was forming or being exercised, a belief about myself, about the world or about life. Some were positive. Most were negative. That's probably why I had the photo album shoved deep in the back of the filing cabinet rather than on the shelf or with all of my other pictures.
I've been told that worrying about the past is a waste of time; it does nothing to serve the present moment. And exploring those moments would just be wallowing in the past. So, I've convinced myself that these moments are not important. These moments are all just shit that happens. They don't affect me now. But is that really true? I feel like I'm wallowing in my past more than ever because I refuse to accept it. All this drama I face in my life came from somewhere and the same shit keeps happening to me over and over again. Why?
So I'm going to call bullshit on the non-importance of my past. I've come a long way by looking at my past, piecing it together, and figuring out what happened. How dare anyone tell me it's a waste of time. It's bad enough that the feelings are not easy to confront, I don't need people telling me that I'm doing it wrong just because they think they know what's important to me.
Fuck them. This is MY life.
Through the course of writing this post, I continue to have moments of worrying about what people are going to think. It's always been my problem even before I realized it. I'm more conscious of it now. The anger for it has surfaced so as I move forward, I'm going to be confronting that head on, even if it means starting every post with the phrase, "This is my life, if you don't like it, then fuck off." Anger serves a purpose. I have not been honoring it and so now, it is seething. If I don't let it out, I will continue to wallow in it. I definitely know that that doesn't serve the present moment.
Because my life is so multifaceted, so esoteric and so gut wrenchingly depressing, sometimes I'm pressured to spare people the "Too Much Information" (TMI) that will eventually come. Of course, I'm only assuming it's going to be TMI mainly because I've had many people who were eager to point that out to me. Having people do that only feeds my habit of editing myself, smoothing things out or censoring things so that I can spare other people my most intimate details, the most important things to me. What I end up with is a thick layer of orange paint that covers or obfuscates who I really am. And I resent that. Orange is a nice color; it's just not MY color. This orange paint represents that nasty habit of self-deception, a habit that has managed to totally fuck up my life and continue to make it difficult. Well, no more. If anyone thinks that any aspect of my life is TMI, then they too can just fuck off.
The good side is that I was able to work out my feelings somewhat publicly and vent my real frustrations openly and without restraint and fear of retribution from someone that would take offence of what I would say. Although there isn't that much evidence that I'm in any danger of retribution. But, I certainly don't want my co-workers, relatives and friends to read a lot of this drivel. Even so, a few co-workers and family have read this blog. But then I actually went as far as inviting those people to read it. Duh!
The curse is that I feel restricted in what I can talk about as long as I'm trying to stay anonymous. I thought anonymity would make it easier but the way I see it, the situations, conversations and events that happen in my life, the ones I want to write about, are so bloody public already that mentioning them here would give me away. There are many things I would like to have posted but didn't because the events were too specific. I've tried to avoid mentioning specific people and, if I do, avoid using real names, but even that isn't good enough. I realize the chances of the wrong person finding these posts are slim, but they are not none.
But one thing is for sure, this anonymous game has taught me that I'm still in the closet. I'm still trying to live a double life. The life of how I really feel verse the life I want people to think I feel. But ultimately, it's apparent that anonymity isn't my real problem. It's just the symptom.
My real problem is that I worry about what people think. Especially if I believe it's negative. I don't usually get hurt by negative comments like I used to but I still have my moments and naturally want to avoid them, especially here when I'm trying to express my more authentic self.
Most of the rude and negative people I've had to deal with were in email, on Facebook, and in person. So, I naturally assume that the same thing is going to happen here. This is 100% public. Not limited like Facebook and email. Any crazy asshole can post here. But, it's not the assholes that worry me. It's everyone else. The ones I care about. The people that have gotten to know me here. And the ones I know in person. I care about people. I care too deeply. And I'm embarrassed because I haven't been 100% truthful. I'm still hiding myself, I'm still afraid of letting people into my life and letting them see all that I'm about.
So, part of me is bristling to shed the anonymity and bust out of my shell. The other part is still scared as hell of rejection. The more people I know who read this blog, the more I plague the course of my writing with assumptions about what I suppose people want or don't want to read. I thought by making it anonymous I was avoiding that. But it didn't matter. They didn't even have to say anything. I assumed what they were going to say before they even say it. And 100% of the time, my assumptions are wrong.
So, when the comments came, very few were negative, most were encouraging. The ones that were negative came from my mom. But she didn't post a comment; she called instead. What she said actually didn't bother me. This seems ridiculous but what she said actually didn't bother me, it was the positive comments that fed my ego.
By avoiding certain subjects or areas of my life, I could continue writing about things that would appease to get more pleasant comments, rather than go in my desired direction. I did more than keep the status quo. I started to gear it back. In one of my posts, I even made a big deal out of not taking a direction that I really wanted to take because I was afraid of possibly displeasing my readers and eliciting negative comments. I even found a way to convince myself it was what I wanted to do. Looking back at that, I am still angry with myself for copping out. This non risk-taking pattern had been building for the past three months in all aspects of my life. As I fell into the trap of not thinking for myself, the frustration and anger built up and I exploded.
Even so, the comments that I've received have meant such a great deal to me I can't even begin to explain how. Even the simple acknowledgments that I'm not alone are very rewarding. But I continue in fear that I will write something offensive and drive someone away. Hell, it may have happened a few times in the past as I've seen my followers list shrink. But then I've stopped following blogs before, and getting upset for losing a follower makes me a hypocrite. They went a direction that didn't interest me so I left, ironically the ones that have offended me I still follow. So, I would hope that they left because I'm not of interest as opposed to being offensive. Yeah, I see it as rejection either way and I hate it but I hope I'm getting better at not caring about it.
Some aspects of my self-esteem are still dependent on outside validation. And thus, I want comments. I want to know what others think. I want people to interact with me and be frank and honest. If they don't like what I say, and feel a need to disagree, then by all means I want them to. So far the only comment that came close to stating a disagreement was in green and purple's comment when he said, "I agree with almost all that you say." I'm curious what the little bit was he didn't agree with. He's right in that it doesn't matter, but still, my curiosity gets to me and ultimately the disagreements can be learning experiences in and of themselves as they challenge my ego; help me understand the holes in my self-esteem.
But, with that being said, I've started to get a sense that the comments left by readers are not always there for me. They're for the readers. As I've been poking around the blogosphere making comments on other people's blogs, I've noticed that when I've written comments I was essentially venting. That, in effect, actually helped me clarify a thought in my head. In the end, the comment was just something I needed to get off my chest and didn't matter if the author of the blog read it or not. Although, whether they agree or disagree, it's still quite satisfying when the blogger or someone responds to it or references it in a future blog post. At least it's evidence that someone noticed it.
The other aspect of all this is that I'm lonely, desperately lonely. I'm acutely aware that my desire to fill that loneliness hole, a hole that severely depresses me often, feeds my desire for comments. And that is a hard thing to admit openly because this depression and unhappiness is all some people in my life need as evidence to fuel their anti-gay religious shit and throw it in my face. If I can put on that happy face they have no case and will leave me alone with their silly "wickedness was never happiness" bullshit and how turning way from God and the church is the reason I have these holes in my soul.
It's so fucking pathetic. I'm right back to where I was a few years ago when I was a miserable, Mormon, fuck with a plastic smile so that I wouldn't make the church look bad. Now I'm a miserable, lonely, fuck with a plastic smile so I don't make the Gay, ex-Mormons look bad. Fucking bullshit! And I'm being a drama queen! Yes, it still makes me angry; I still have a lot of bitterness left in me. But I should be 100% honest, I'm not as miserable now as I was then. But still, any misery sucks and I hate it and I just want to scream.
But, as of late, not all of the bullshit has been related to Mormons or their silly beliefs. It's been bigoted and ignorant co-workers, slummy landlords, thieves breaking in to my house, distant family, shitty job, distant friends, my shrinking bank account, and no one to talk to about any of it at the end of a hard day. For the last few months I've been wondering, what I am going to do? Where am I going to go? And with all of that, there is the added frustration and anger of not finding an answer. Again, another aspect of all of this apparent misfortune is that those silly Mormons are going to use it as evidence that God is punishing me for leaving the church to have gay sex.
It just keeps coming back to worrying about what people think. And it goes back as far as I can remember. Hell, just read some of my past posts! I totally dwell on shit from my past over, and over, and over...ad nauseam. Yes, we all know now that my past sucked and I'm still not over it. Give it a rest, right? Easier said than done. Besides, I get to decide when to give it rest anyway.
I've been struggling for a long time trying to find a way to reconcile or connect in constructive ways with my past. I wanted to remember all of those times were I got misdirected so that I could change or realign the beliefs I formed around them, beliefs that misinformed me later in life and continue to do so; such as why I still care what other people think of me. But it got daunting. My past was so vast and my memory so jumbled and broken, I was getting frustrated with that alone.
A few days ago, I stumbled across a photo album that my dad sent to me few years ago. In it were miscellaneous photos of me mostly between the ages of 3-16. Many of these struck me as odd because I had no memory of the event captured in the image. Others, I had a clear memory of them and was surprised by the memory. Some were good, many were bad. But all of them invoked a thought or emotion of some kind. I realized that some of these pictures captured events in my life where a belief was forming or being exercised, a belief about myself, about the world or about life. Some were positive. Most were negative. That's probably why I had the photo album shoved deep in the back of the filing cabinet rather than on the shelf or with all of my other pictures.
I've been told that worrying about the past is a waste of time; it does nothing to serve the present moment. And exploring those moments would just be wallowing in the past. So, I've convinced myself that these moments are not important. These moments are all just shit that happens. They don't affect me now. But is that really true? I feel like I'm wallowing in my past more than ever because I refuse to accept it. All this drama I face in my life came from somewhere and the same shit keeps happening to me over and over again. Why?
So I'm going to call bullshit on the non-importance of my past. I've come a long way by looking at my past, piecing it together, and figuring out what happened. How dare anyone tell me it's a waste of time. It's bad enough that the feelings are not easy to confront, I don't need people telling me that I'm doing it wrong just because they think they know what's important to me.
Fuck them. This is MY life.
Through the course of writing this post, I continue to have moments of worrying about what people are going to think. It's always been my problem even before I realized it. I'm more conscious of it now. The anger for it has surfaced so as I move forward, I'm going to be confronting that head on, even if it means starting every post with the phrase, "This is my life, if you don't like it, then fuck off." Anger serves a purpose. I have not been honoring it and so now, it is seething. If I don't let it out, I will continue to wallow in it. I definitely know that that doesn't serve the present moment.
Because my life is so multifaceted, so esoteric and so gut wrenchingly depressing, sometimes I'm pressured to spare people the "Too Much Information" (TMI) that will eventually come. Of course, I'm only assuming it's going to be TMI mainly because I've had many people who were eager to point that out to me. Having people do that only feeds my habit of editing myself, smoothing things out or censoring things so that I can spare other people my most intimate details, the most important things to me. What I end up with is a thick layer of orange paint that covers or obfuscates who I really am. And I resent that. Orange is a nice color; it's just not MY color. This orange paint represents that nasty habit of self-deception, a habit that has managed to totally fuck up my life and continue to make it difficult. Well, no more. If anyone thinks that any aspect of my life is TMI, then they too can just fuck off.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
My First Post
Well here we are, my first post. Well, it's not really my first post. I had some posts here from last year. They were all about stupid political stuff regarding gay marriage and those crazy religionists. Oh, and Mormons too. Yeah, it was just a bit too topical. Topical equals boring times infinity.
Well I'm taking this a new direction. I'm setting out to do what I originally intended to do:
Dump my brain.
Why? Could it be because I'm a narcissistic little twat who believes that the world revolves round me and cares what I have to say? Of course not, that's just ridiculous. If I were narcissistic I wouldn't have made this blog anonymous now would I? Hell, if I were narcissistic I would have had my real name posted with 300 pictures of me posing with celebrities, a few hundred pictures of my cat, a list of my CD collection, my address and the place where I work and all 17 email addresses where you could contact me.
But I didn't do that. That's what Facebook and Myspace are for. I value my privacy just way too much. Well except on Facebook where I post all of that shit. Except for the cats. I don't own a cat. But my friends do so I borrow theirs.
No, in reality what I fear is retribution. But then if you are the one person who actually follows this blog you will come to know in time why I fear retribution. Not your retribution but the retribution of the people I talk about in this blog. However, if I got to know you by some slip of the tongue, and we were to somehow reveal ourselves to each other, chances are you would then become fodder for my blog. And your embarrassment would motivate retribution towards me. Therefore, all the more reason to remain anonymous. See how I'm thinking ahead here? Anonymous is a win-win!
Now, I know what your saying.
"COWARD!"
Ok, well shouting actually. But still, I understand. And I don't care. Keep in mind I did say I feared retribution. And whether that fear is real or not is irrelevant. The fact is I refuse to own up to the drivel I'll be posting here. So, yes I am a coward. Or as some of you shouted, "COWARD!"
But I digress. I believe I was answering the question as to why I am dumping my brain on this blog. Well, at the risk of sounding all newagey I will just say this:
Writing allows one to transcend the subconscious mind energies and open new pathways for enlightenment of the inner-child, god-self which will lift the core-person to its conscious forethoughts of spiritual oneness with the universe. Or some shit like that.
Well I'm taking this a new direction. I'm setting out to do what I originally intended to do:
Dump my brain.
Why? Could it be because I'm a narcissistic little twat who believes that the world revolves round me and cares what I have to say? Of course not, that's just ridiculous. If I were narcissistic I wouldn't have made this blog anonymous now would I? Hell, if I were narcissistic I would have had my real name posted with 300 pictures of me posing with celebrities, a few hundred pictures of my cat, a list of my CD collection, my address and the place where I work and all 17 email addresses where you could contact me.
But I didn't do that. That's what Facebook and Myspace are for. I value my privacy just way too much. Well except on Facebook where I post all of that shit. Except for the cats. I don't own a cat. But my friends do so I borrow theirs.
No, in reality what I fear is retribution. But then if you are the one person who actually follows this blog you will come to know in time why I fear retribution. Not your retribution but the retribution of the people I talk about in this blog. However, if I got to know you by some slip of the tongue, and we were to somehow reveal ourselves to each other, chances are you would then become fodder for my blog. And your embarrassment would motivate retribution towards me. Therefore, all the more reason to remain anonymous. See how I'm thinking ahead here? Anonymous is a win-win!
Now, I know what your saying.
"COWARD!"
Ok, well shouting actually. But still, I understand. And I don't care. Keep in mind I did say I feared retribution. And whether that fear is real or not is irrelevant. The fact is I refuse to own up to the drivel I'll be posting here. So, yes I am a coward. Or as some of you shouted, "COWARD!"
But I digress. I believe I was answering the question as to why I am dumping my brain on this blog. Well, at the risk of sounding all newagey I will just say this:
Writing allows one to transcend the subconscious mind energies and open new pathways for enlightenment of the inner-child, god-self which will lift the core-person to its conscious forethoughts of spiritual oneness with the universe. Or some shit like that.
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