Depression: How I Got Here

 

A few years ago, I finally had the courage to tell my doctor (at the end of my appointment that day) that I was not okay.

"I'm not okay." I said.

She put her laptop and clipboard away, sat down across from me, and said "Let's talk about that."

After meeting with her and a clinical psychologist, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, major depressive disorder, and PTSD. Yes, I know that sounds like a lot, and many people who don't fully understand mental illness will say "What, you just magically came down with all four overnight?" No, I did not. Those four disorders, along with others I don't deal with (like bipolar-1, borderline personality disorder, and OCD to name a few) can come on suddenly, or one can develop because of one of the others. A person's PTSD can initiate the anxiety disorder, which leads to depression, or they can happen in the reverse order, or in any order. The brain is such a complex thing, and we don't fully understand how these disorders develop, or how they progress. So finding a magic cure is almost impossible.

Because of that, though, and because the things affected are mental and not simply physical, these disorders are often marginalized by people who don't have them, either because they don't want to take the time to educate themselves, or because they feel the person's mental illness is something everyone deals with to a degree, and they should just "suck it up".

Example, these are attitudes I have personally experienced toward my mental illness:

"You have anxiety disorder? I get that. I get anxious too. Just count to five and breathe. It'll pass."

"You have depression? Well, I think we all get sad from time to time. You just need to count your blessings."

"Panic disorder? You don't have to be scared. Have you tried meditation?"

"You have PTSD? Where were you deployed? Was it Iraq? Oh, you aren't military? Then how do you have PTSD?"

(I'm not kidding. This is what I have had people say to me about each one.)

So let's talk about where my issues began and how they progressed. Yes, I'm opening my backpack and dumping it all over the table. If you are a "TLDR" kind of person, you may want to just close this window and go back to scrolling your feed. I won't be offended.

Many people who deal with clinical depression remember a time when they were "okay". We can think back to before depression took over, and maybe even pinpoint a time or event that triggered it. Maybe it was the death of a loved one, an injury or illness, or some form of physical or emotional abuse. Regardless, we are fairly certain that before that time or event, we were okay. We may have had bad days, like everyone does, but we were mentally and emotionally healthy.

Then the thing happened. And everything went to shit.

In my case, the triggering event was a trip overseas. I won't go into all the details, because they are personal, but in short, some words I said were misunderstood by a few people there because of language barriers and cultural differences, and the resulting snowball effect put me in forced "time out" (for my own safety) until I could return home. This place was a place I had poured my heart and soul into over the years, and had fallen in love with so many people there. This event severed most of those ties in one snip. I can never go back, because I don't know who I can trust outside of a tiny handful of people, and I can't ask them to babysit me. People on the outside of this might read this and think "You're still hung up on that? That was years ago! Move on!" but that was the beginning of my anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Try telling someone with (what you see as) a true case of PTSD that they should just "Move on." It's the same concept. Full offense. It's the same.

When I got back from that trip, I returned to find out some petty, ignorant rumors had been started about me at church by a very gossipy and ignorant deacon. I had to clean that mess up, confronting him, and having him yell at me that "He was only repeating what he had been told." Because of his actions, many people began to stop trusting me at church. A few weeks later, another incident took place there that resulted in us leaving that church permanently. The ministry I had fostered at that church for over a decade was also gone with one snip. This further advanced my depression, but like most men are told to do in life, I put up a wall and put on my boots and walked through it.

Then, a bright spot happened. I got a job that was so good for me. It helped my depression in ways I cannot even begin to explain. It was at a bookstore. My boss was amazing. My coworkers were amazing. The work environment was amazing. I felt like I had been given a new start and this place was the beginning of that. I found such joy in helping people love books and nerdy media items like I did. It was pure bliss. Sometimes I would go back in the back room and mist up because of how happy I was to work there. I knew I was going to work there forever.

Then, we had a management change. The new boss was a complete tyrant. She had zero empathy, zero people skills, a hateful attitude, and she didn't give a shit what anyone thought about how she rain things. People started crying on their break, or just plain walking out. My little place of zen was now a place of sadness. I politely and professionally voiced my concern over this to her, and rather than listening, she cut my hours. After being reduced to 5 hours a week, I gave up and put in my notice. Her response to this was to put a mark on my record with the company saying I had been a difficult employee, and that I should not be considered for rehire, ever. A few weeks later, she was fired, but the mark she put there was permanent, and in spite of my petitioning for being hired back, I was told I would not be considered because of the record she entered. So, my job I loved is gone, and I lost it by defending the company as a place to work that should foster happiness.

Whenever I go back to that store, I am struck with such a wave of emotional loss; almost like walking into the room of someone who died that you loved so much, and seeing all their things there just as you remember them, but they are gone, and you can't ever get them back.

So, to recap, I lost a city I loved with all my heart, a ministry I loved with all my heart, and a job I loved with all my heart.

"Big deal." some might say. "I lost my wife/child/mother/etc." But that's the thing, mental illness prevents you from healthily healing from those losses.

But this is already running very long, and I can't imagine why anyone would want to read my ramblings, so I'm going to call this "Part One" and stop here. In my next post, I'll tell you what it's like living with this from day to day. (Bet you are looking forward to that!) Some of it is amusing, some of it is heartbreaking, and some of it is just plain weird.

But I promise, it gets better. It really does.

Buckle up.

 

I tried on a dress...

 

Well, sort of. 

As an experiment.

A demonstration for myself and for others.

Let me explain:

As a sociologist, we are constantly searching to understand the societal constructs that make up the world. This means going beyond research on paper and diving into the real world, often making yourself part of the experiment. If you are a good sociologist, that is.

I'm a 47 year old man, cisgendered, and 100% straight. But one day, I was listening to a podcast by a woman who was transgender. She had been born male, but now was living as female. It took her 24 years to come out and begin living as a woman. She had grown up in a conservative home with parents who had no idea she was trans. She would steal clothes from her older sister and hide them in a box in the basement, venturing down there to try them on and wear them for a few hours here and there while she was home alone.

The few times she had hinted about buying clothes that weren't blatantly masculine (or neutral) as she grew up, she had been given a sharp rebuff. "Guys don't wear pink." or "Those shoes look too girly." So she gave up on this until she could buy her own clothes, usually from Goodwill, because they charged by the piece and didn't examine each item as it went into the bag.

She said--

"For those who don't understand what it's like to be forced to wear clothes that don't match your gender, and yes, I am primarily aiming this toward straight men, I want you to do something for me. Go to Goodwill, find a dress that will fit you, and go into the dressing room and try it on. Make sure you take off everything but your boxers before you do. Cinch it up or jerk it down so that it will fit as it should. Now, look at yourself in the mirror, and don't look away for a full 30 seconds. If the feeling you get when you do that is one of embarrassment, horror, extreme awkwardness, and the desire to get that thing off as quickly as possible, you have just been given a small taste of what trans people endure every day prior to coming out to the world. Also, so you can relate to trans people like myself who waited until I was an adult to make this change, imagine not changing out of it, and instead stepping outside the dressing room wearing it, and continuing to shop. If the idea of doing that fills you with terror, you are experiencing a micro-slice of what it felt like the day I finally had the courage to wear the clothes that matched my gender out in public. I had been told my entire life that the clothing I secretly wanted to wear was not what "real" guys wore, and so I developed an aversion to my own body's identity. A reverse-body-dysphoria. Not hating my body, but hating what my body needed and wanted. That was how I lived every day until my coming out, and a picture of the identity complex I had to overcome once I did."

And--

"Imagine being a woman who was in an abusive marriage where the husband made her believe that only women who are whores experience pleasure from sex. So you spend your entire life trying to not enjoy it, until one day, the asshole leaves you for another woman. Then, years later, you meet a good man. A man who wants you to enjoy it, and when you are with him, you do. But you have been made to believe that to enjoy it is bad, so you feel bad for enjoying it, and when you climax, you feel like a piece of trash. You've been made to believe that what was natural to you was unnatural, and now you have to relearn how to experience this, all while shutting out the damage inflicted by the person before. That's what this is like."

So, as I mentioned before, I tried on a dress. Well, I cheated, and only held it up against me after getting out of the shower, but as I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt the horror she mentioned. I looked like a man in a dress. A big, fat, hairy man holding up a woman's sundress against his body. I imagined what it would be like if I actually put it on and went to the store. I shuddered at the thought. I would want to wear a bag over my head and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. 

Then I tried to imagine what it would be like, if in my heart, that was what I really wanted to wear. All my life I have been trained to believe that men dress like men, and that a man in a dress just looks...wrong. I'm lucky, so lucky that I don't have a desire to wear a dress...because my brain would not be okay with it. 

And as I type this, I think, "The people who need to read this have probably already unfollowed or blocked me, so why am I even writing this?" Maybe it's in the hopes that there is a dad (or mom) out there who needs to read it who hasn't hidden me from their feed. Maybe their child is trans, and would benefit from their parents understanding this one aspect of it.

I tried on a dress.

I challenge other men who have never done so (outside of wearing one as a joke or on halloween) to do this as well. Stand there for a moment wearing it, and try to feel beautiful. This is what that trans person has been trying to do all their life.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

I'm so, so sorry.

 

I'm sorry. With all my heart. For so much of what I did and said. More on that in a moment.

The other day I was listening to a podcast, and one of the guests, a transgender guy (born female, now male) was talking about the day he came out to his parents. That morning, before his parents woke up, he went through his closet and packed all his clothes that were feminine in any form into boxes marked for donation. What he was left with was a handful of t-shirts, a couple of pairs of jeans, and not much else. He took a deep breath, said goodbye to the girl he had been expected to embody for 15 years, and went downstairs wearing jeans and a heavy metal band shirt. He asked his mom and dad if he could talk to them for a few minutes.

After pouring his heart out, pleading for understanding, and holding firm to who he was, he waited for them to respond. His mother burst into tears and left the room. His father spoke calmly, but with the intent of showing he would not back down either:

"You asked us to not say anything until you had finished, and now I expect the same from you as I tell you how I feel about this on a factual level." Dad said.

"The fact you have rejected your gender means you have rejected who God planned you to be; that tells me you value yourself more than you value God."

"You reject your gender with pride, and with a happiness surrounding this new identity. That tells me you do not feel remorse or shame about rejecting God's plan."

"You show unwavering support for others doing the same thing, and that tells me you are encouraging others to reject God's gift as well, as they see fit."

"Evidence of salvation in Christ is shown by our humility, and our recognition that we have sinned. People who are saved may stray, but they know what they are doing is wrong. You seem to see nothing wrong with what you are doing--so this tells me you are not saved as we believed and as you claimed to be."

"You have said that you have no plans to ever go back to who you were, even though I say you still are that, whether you want to be or not."

"Because you have rejected God's gift, rejected God's plan, have no remorse or shame for it, and have no plans to ever repent, it tells me you have chosen the flesh over God, and over us."

"Satan roams the earth seeking to devour who he may. You have chosen the flesh and the world over God, which means that you have chosen Satan. You embrace Satan--with open arms. And that means you are bound for Hell. And since you show no shame or remorse, it means you are likely beyond redemption."

"My daughter has chosen Hell." he said, refusing to honor his request to be called son. "She has chosen Satan. She has chosen the flesh. And she will probably die condemned. Permanent separation from God and from us for all eternity. You are bound for Hell, by your own choice."

After he finished speaking, the young man cried as he ascended the stairs to his room. Not because he believed he was bound for Hell, but because he still loved Jesus, and his father had just claimed his love for Christ and his family was a lie.

~~~

I'm writing this blog post to apologize. For years I taught children in church and conveyed to them as they began their prepubescent years that God did not approve of homosexuality and I painted images of when he incinerated Sodom and Gomorrah. I made children fear God's wrath at homosexuality, and when I taught teenagers in the church, I did the same thing. I shamed the LGBTQ+ community, and said they were rejecting God and turning to sin. I told them that homosexuality was a more detestable sin than others, and to accept it or defend it was to defend sin and Satan.

I made children and teenagers (who might have been secretly feeling they might be gay or trans in some form) feel that they were perverted and corrupt. I shamed them for their feelings, and hurt their hearts in the process. I hurt their hearts because I was a figure they trusted--someone they looked up to--and I told them that these feelings were sinful and shameful if they were having them.

I know one person on my friend list who was one of my church kids who is now openly and outwardly trans. I hope he can forgive me for what I said back then.  I hope others will as well, who I may not know, or have not come out yet.

I support you. 

I have no doubt there are people in the church who will read this and immediately go to I Timothy 4:1 and say this is evidence I have rejected God. 

So be it. I choose the love that Christ asked us to show to all, and empathy for those who have been made to feel ashamed.

I choose the hearts of those children who are now adults and young adults.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for who I was and how I made you feel. You deserved so much more understanding and support. 

I offer it now, without condition or reservation.

 

Invite Us to Things. - Day 30

 

This may seem like statement of affirmation in the image above, but don't forget that many people you seem to always have to text first are very introverted, and if you didn't text first, they might see their wanting to hear from you as them being "needy" or an imposition. You texting them every once in a while reminds them that they are important to you, and that you thought about them today.

 

Introverts are often bad about not texting back. We see your text, smile because you texted us, and then respond to your text in our heads and not with our phone. Not all of us are like that. Some of us are so happy to see you messaged us that we will drop everything we are doing just to respond to you--all over the floor.

 

We also often find that many people only text us when they want something. Money. A ride. A favor. We don't mind those things usually, but if that's the only time you text us, it makes us feel like that's all we are to you. It's even worse when the person texting starts off with small talk (when we haven't heard from them in weeks or months) in an attempt to make it seem like they aren't only texting us for that purpose. We know it's coming. We love you, but we're not dumb.

 

(Texting for advice is something we don’t mind though. We love when you value our opinion.)

 

Include us in things. Invite us to things. Please. We may not always come, but it feels so good to know we were important enough to ask. We've often convinced ourselves that we are the "oddball" and that not being invited to the party or the get-together is to be expected because we are awkward. This rings especially true when we already deal with depression, as many introverts do. 

 

Please, invite us. We're trying.

 

Keep texting first. Some of us live to hear our phone go "Ding!"

Different Colors - Day 27

 

"Someone being given rights they didn't have before does not mean less rights for you."

One of my friends from high school is trans. Born male, and now lives as a female. Her pronouns are she/her. She is pansexual, but identifies closer to bisexual on most days. I was having a conversation with her the other day online, and I asked her what was the hardest part of living as a trans woman, for her. She talked about a few of the challenges, but in the end, some things she said stuck out to me...and they were messages she wanted to convey to men and women of cisgender who, like she has experienced all too often, are critical of who she is and how she lives. I'm stealing a few of her quotes here, so bear with me:

~~~

"For men who say they are worried I will come onto them at a bar without revealing my being trans, then when we get back to their place, there I am in all my glory, let me make this clear: I paid well for my breast implants, but chose to stop there and not go any lower. I am aware I look very feminine, and I'm proud of that fact. But I have worked so hard for acceptance; way too hard to risk being hurt. Trans women are frequent victims of violence by men who didn't know what they were getting into, and to make sure I never endure that, I am honest about who I am from the get-go. Also, if you are worried about getting me home and finding out things you don't want to find out, you obviously are only interested in one thing, and I'm not looking for that kind of relationship. Thanks in advance for your understanding."

"No, my life does not revolve around sex. Does yours? If so, wow, you must be very fascinating."

"Just because I am trans does not mean I am gay. I'm bi, but not all of us are. We identify in many different ways, and if you are uncertain, ask...respectfully."

"I'm not sure if the person I marry will be male or female gendered. I do know they will be human, and that's what matters."

"My family knows about me. Those who approve are still in my life, those who don't, aren't. I don't regret either."

"I use the restroom marked women. I pee sitting down unless the toilet is filthy. Why that fascinates so many of you, I have no idea." 

"I can rock a suit, as most women can. I prefer dresses, though, because pants are annoying."

"Accidentally calling me by the wrong pronouns but being willing to learn is totally fine. As long as I see you are making an effort. Calling me by the wrong pronouns (and by my dead name) because you are refusing to accept who I am is hurtful, and mentally destructive. Please, show some kindness."

"I am a Christian. God made me how I am, therefore I am perfect in His sight. I am also so proud He finally gave me the courage to be the person he made me to be."

"Not every trans person is going to agree with everything I say and feel about me personally. We are all different, and that's what makes the world we live in both dangerous, and beautiful."

The Red Pill - Day 26

 

 

Gah, my undergraduate is finally over. I'm reflecting back now on the journey.

 

Psychology was like waking up and seeing the world around me. With Psychology, you learn why you think how you do, and why others think how they do. It takes the blissful mystery out of many things, to a large degree, such that even people who say "You don't know me; don't think you do!" are known--by you. You may not know everything in their mind, but you know how their mind works--and that's a scary thing.

But--Sociology. God, sociology is like taking the "red pill". My teacher Barbara Greene in high school said "This is going to make you love and hate people, concurrently." Then my college professor Naomi Wolfe took me to a new level with this; such that I began reading things I never would have bothered with before.

Dangerous things.

Things that explain why people react to situations and people in the way they do. Books with history-rich documentary of people responding to this movement or that person in the same way people today respond to this movement or that person. People today, of course want to say "Well that was a different time, and that person was different than me. I'm following this person/movement/idea because of this, not because of that.

Psst--that's what they said too.

I remember frequently wishing that I could magically be transported back to my childhood, but with the same knowledge I have right now. How differently I would do things. However, having the knowledge I have now would be a mental torture chamber. Knowing when and how people would die, for example, and my being powerless to stop it. That's what sociology is like. Knowing why and how people react to things that have happened before, even though they feel their motives today are "oh so different" from the motives of those people twenty, fifty, or even two-hundred years ago.

A lot of people have unfollowed me on Facebook over the past couple of years, due to a concept of psychology related to confirmation bias. It's okay, we all do it. I know I did. Because of that, though, people who used to see my blog no longer do, and that's fine. I see their posts where they are blissfully going about their lives, when actually, I know what they are trying to convey both to the world and to themselves. That knowledge is a frightening thing.

I see you.

 

But you unfollowed me, so you can't see me.

(Ha-ha.)

 

I remember reading an X-Men comic back when I was a kid, and one of the mutants had the power of future-sight as well as mind-reading. Professor X told him that his gift was both a magnificent blessing and a torturous curse. Always knowing the minds of people, but being powerless to change them. Always knowing how things would end, but unable to change them. 

 

Professor X said "The worth of the gift you have been given hinges on how you use it, and whether you always use it for good."

 

"But it hurts." he said. "I want the pain to stop. Please, make it stop!"

"I can't make it stop, but you can use it to teach others before they grow into who we have become. Join us." Professor X said.

Gah, join us.

Barbara Greene and Naomi Wolfe.

What am I getting myself into?

Graduate School - Day 25

This little guy is a Tufted Titmouse. His name is Tiny Tim. He battles daily for a spot on our bird feeder against a constant throng of house finches. 

He's a fighter.

Years ago, when I was in middle school, I was attending a Christian school--a little small town organization run by a local pastor out of his church. Kindergarten all the way up through 12th grade, but only abut 100 students total. Sixth through twelfth grade was all in the same classroom (a recipe for disaster) and there were about 30 of us.

Two of the students, Nathan and Paul, were members of that particular church-school, along with their family. Nathan was in eleventh grade, built like a brick, and he was a physical bully. He would kick you in the back as you walked down the hall, and when you fell over, he'd laugh. Fighting back did nothing to earn his respect, he would just pound you again and call you a pussy. Paul, his brother, was in tenth grade, and a verbal bully. He would find things about you that were odd, or not "up to code", and trash you in front of everyone. If you tried to shut his mouth for him, Nathan would jump in front of you and kick you to the ground. Afterward, both of them would laugh at you. You quickly learned who owned this school, because if you reported this to the teachers, no consequences were meted out beyond a "we'll have a talk with him".

(The "talk" usually resulted in you being cornered behind the building by Nathan.)

Being in Nathan and Paul's good graces were the only way you were going to survive in this school, and those brothers weren't going anywhere. Their parents were BIG tithers, and donors.

I remember one day out on the playground, Nathan had one little boy, Robbie, pinned against a tree. He'd tickled him mercilessly until he wet his pants, a dark stain now down the front of his jeans. A crowd of students had gathered, and Paul was hyping them up.

"We need a name for Robbie. He ain't gonna be Robbie anymore. Should we call him piss-pants, or faggot?" he asked.

Laughter.

"All for piss-pants, say PISS-PANTS."

Laughter, mixed with piss-pants.

"All for faggot, say FAGGOT."

The faggots won.

Audience participation at it's finest.

Some students reasoned that Robbie was probably gay, and continued to call him faggot.

......

That year, on awards night, two particular awards were given out to specific students who showed exemplary character and representation of what Christ was to his disciples--examples of leadership and compassion.

Nathan won for leadership.

Paul won for compassion.

It's easy to say "Well that was corrupt behavior by the school based on favoritism and financial interest." But there is something to be said for Nathan and Paul's popularity and influence as causality. 

Administration defended them because they were members of the church, and "we must remember that only God can judge them". Students defended them out of fear, but also, there was a level of entertainment value when you were not the one being pinned to the wall.

Christian adults defended them, even though they did horrible things. Could Nathan and Paul quote the bible? Oh yes, their parents had them at church every Sunday. But their behavior was disgraceful.

It has continually amazed me how good people defend and support bullies, then when those bullies attack, those same people say "Well you should have stood up to them." or "Oh, he's not all that bad. He's just had a rough life."

(I want no part of Christians who defend bullies' behavior. None. For any reason. If you are a Christian and you defend bullying, no matter what the reason, I'm done with you.) 

This is why I am majoring in sociology. So that I can unpack why supposedly good people defend and rationalize the behavior of bad people.

But most of all, to be a voice for the marginalized. Especially the ones who are told they are asking for "too much" or that they are "being too sensitive".

Body Automony - Day 24

 

I like hugs. 

Check that; I love hugs. I am a hugging person. (If I like you.)

But not everybody likes hugs. 

Some people are "touch-me-nots", and that's how it is.

Some people like hugs, but only from certain people.

Some people only want a hug if THEY ask for one.

Some people only want side-hugs.

And all of that is okay. 

We got this book from the library today, and it is excellent:

One day, years ago, I was at someone's house for Christmas, and a family member arrived to say hello and Merry Christmas. The family member was a man, and was obviously someone the kids recognized. He got down on one knee, held out his arms, and said "Come here!" The oldest kid, (Jenna) who was about 8, cried out "Uncle Jake!" and ran over to him, hugging him. The younger child (Jeffrey) did not. Mom, seeing this, said to the Jeffrey "Now don't be mean. Go over and hug Uncle Jake. You'll make him sad."

Whoa. 

Back the truck up.

Never, ever do that to a kid. 

You are telling that child that they are obligated to touch this person in a way that makes them uncomfortable, and that if they don't, they are responsible for that person being sad. You are making that child's desire to retain their body autonomy something to be ashamed of, and guilt tripping them into feeling violated.

Maybe at one point in Jeffrey's life, Uncle Jake touched him in a way that made him afraid of him. Maybe it was an accident, maybe not.

Maybe Uncle Jake has nothing to do with this, but another family member touched him that way. Or maybe his teacher did. Or his coach. Or a stranger did. You don't know. So by making Jeffrey hug Uncle Jake, you are adding to his trauma.

Or, maybe, like Doug, Jeffrey just doesn't like hugs.

This also extends to terms of endearment or words of affection. Another time, I was at someone's house and a female family member, the child's grandmother arrived and after she talked with mom for a bit, looked over at the child and said "Well, Nanny has to go. I love you, Kay Kay."

Kay Kay smiled and waved.

Mom said "Kay Kay, that's rude. Tell Nanny you love her."

Kay Kay lowered her eyes and buried her face in her hands.

Mom: "Kay Kay. Tell your grandmother you love her. She brought you toys last time. You are hurting her feelings."

Kay Kay started crying, but said "I love you."

Grandma extended her arms for a hug.

Kay Kay complied, awkwardly, and then went and sat back down.

When Grandma left, mom scolded Kay Kay for being mean and not "Giving Nanny loves."

The thing is, maybe Kay Kay doesn't love Nanny like that. Maybe she likes Nanny, but doesn't love her--yet.

Or maybe, Nanny has done something that made Kay Kay nervous at some point; perhaps on accident, perhaps not.

Body autonomy extends to verbal. If we teach our children that they must respond in kind to statements of affection from people, we take away their right to their outward feelings and inject the idea that their words are not their own.

Kay Kay may love Nanny, but she just doesn't want to say it.

Kay Kay may not love Nanny right now, but maybe she will one day.

Kay Kay may never love Nanny like that. 

And all of that is okay.

The Covid pandemic (for those among us who took it seriously, as they should) brought about the concept of "elbow bumps" and "air hugs". I can't help but think how many people were overjoyed at this, because now they have an excuse for not hugging or touching.

Let's keep that going. 

I myself like hugs. 

No, I love hugs. (As long as I like you.)

But not everyone does.

Don't make your kids hug people, or make them say "I love you." to them.

The end.

Uncommon Understanding - Day 23

 

I frequent a message board where people who are in the LGBTQ+ community talk about their issues and experiences. It's often quite saddening and enlightening when you discover the lengths many go to in order to do what they love and be who they are in a world that has not fully embraced them.

Today, I read a post by a man who during the day works as a FedEx driver in Detroit. He's not trans, and he's not gay, he simply came to the board to talk and not be judged for who he is and what he does.

He began by saying that one of his coworkers, a woman in her 30's, has a huge collection of stuffed animals and dolls that literally span every room in her apartment. Some are just for display, but she has a special group of them that sit on a hammock type shelf by her bed. These are her "bedtime babies", and as you can probably guess, she sleeps with them. Now, probably nobody reading this would think anything of that. Many single women (and some not single) have "stuffies" or "babies" they sleep with. Sometimes it's a teddy bear from childhood or college, other times it's a valentine gift from a s/o. Nobody blinks an eye at this, and if anything, it's cute.

The man who made the post mentioned above also has a few stuffed animals and dolls that he sleeps with at night. His favorite is a little pink teddy bear with big blue eyes and super-soft fur. He also has a doll with yarn hair, and a flamingo with long floppy legs. In all, he has 13 dolls and stuffies that he sleeps with. He keeps their hair/fur brushed and clean, and launders the ones that can be washed.

He lives alone, and from time to time he will have friends over. In the beginning, he would hide his shelf-full of babies when he had company, as his apartment only has one bathroom, and to get to it, you must go through his bedroom. He got tired of doing that, though, and so came up with another plan. He got a couple of damaged dolls and stuffed animals and put them on a table in a corner with a bag of poly-fil stuffing and a sewing kit. He would tell people that he re-stuffed dolls and bears to donate to the homeless shelter. They saw this as noble, praising him for his generosity, --not weird and creepy like the truth would have been.

Reading this man's post really got me to thinking how far we have to go in equality for all. Not just in basic human rights, but in understanding. Here we have a guy who could have simply denied himself something he wanted in order to not feel "stupid", but instead embraced it, if only inside his own mind and heart.

Why is it okay for a single woman in her 30's to sleep with a doll but not a single man in his 30's? We all know the answer to this is rooted in gender norms, and because of those norms, we are tempted to think "He says he's straight? Yeah, right." However, his sexual orientation is irrelevant to this. He says he is straight, and so that's that. What is important is the judgment we place on him.

After a couple of weeks seeing the couple of damaged stuffed animals on the table by the bag of stuffing, he became inspired to actually do the thing it portrayed. He began finding pre-loved stuffed animals at Goodwill that just needed some TLC and cleaning them up, adding new stuffing to them, then taking them to the homeless shelter/battered women's shelter. At the homeless shelter, sometimes he would offer a doll or stuffed animal to a little boy who was already "too old" for them. He thought "What if this little boy is embarrassed to ask for a stuffed animal, but if I give it to him, it's a gift he can choose to give away, or to keep?" He began pinning notes to them that read "To keep you warm at night." as warmth is something we all need, regardless of gender.

What if we treated ALL people the way he is making his own life an example of?

I'm rambling. I've begun to feel like very few people read these, as the blog site shows me how many times my posts have been read. (Some of them less than 3 views.) For the few who do, thank you. It shows I'm not talking to myself.

Day 22 - We Are So Blind

 

Don't make decisions from a place of anger. 

Many of us have done that. I've hidden friends from my feed because of political division and missed their posts about family members hurting or even dying...all because I didn't want to see another post about seemingly hating me.

So I hope not too many will miss this post, because it was a wake-up call for me about something I know we all are tired of hearing about: Covid-19.

I know a lot of people don't have a lot of faith in Dr. Anthony Fauci. He's one of the smartest and most experienced infectious disease experts in the world, but when he criticized Donald Trump a year ago for his handling of the pandemic, Trump called him a "disaster", causing many of Trump's loyalists to "cancel" him. The equivalent of me getting angry with my doctor for telling me I need to lose weight, and so I ignore everything she tells me from then on, including things that might save my life.

Dr. Fauci was discussing pandemics the other day on NPR. He had been asked about his experience back in the 80's regarding HIV and the AIDS virus. He said the first step was figuring out how it was transmitted, and where it originated. The latter was ultimately impossible, but the former would be revealed through research. Dr. Fauci knew it was sexually transmitted, but it seemed to relegated largely to (at the time) gay males. He visited the bathhouses that populated the forced underbelly of that group at the time, and saw unchecked sexual activity with no precautions being taken against infections. Since condoms were primarily used to prevent pregnancy, that form of protection was not being used. Partners were regularly swapped, even in the same night, creating a hotbed for an STI to spread unchecked. 

When Dr. Fauci and other experts reported their findings, people fell into several categories in how they viewed this pandemic:

"I don't believe HIV is real. It's a hoax."

"I don't believe it's that serious, and certainly not deadly."

"Only the sick need to worry about HIV killing them."

"I'm not gay, so I won't get it."

"I am gay, and you can't tell me what to do."

"The risk of infection is low, so I'm gonna live my life."

"Screw you, Fauci."

"La-La-La-La-La-LAAAAAA...not listening!"

Because of these attitudes, HIV became a real problem. To date, over 35 million have died from AIDS. It took years for people to actually be convinced that HIV was spread through sexual activity, and wasn't just a "gay issue". A recent survey among young people between the ages of 17 and 25 showed that only around 60% of women insist on condom usage once they have developed trust with their partner. Males, on the other hand, were at a dismal 15%. In fact, 89% of males said they actively discourage the use of condoms with their partner, even if their partner has brought one, because of "lack of sensation".** Many women relent on this to show their love for their partner, and men often see the lack of condom usage and it's subsequent end result as "claiming" their partner, reinforcing the idea that masculinity is defined by risk.

Now we are faced with Covid-19; another pandemic that is receiving the same kinds of criticism. 

"I don't believe Covid is real. It's a hoax."

"I don't believe it's that serious, and certainly not deadly."

"Only the sick need to worry about Covid killing them."

"I'm being careful, so I won't get it."

"I'm an American, and you can't tell me what to do."

"The risk of infection is low, so I'm gonna live my life."

"Screw you, Fauci."

"La-La-La-La-La-LAAAAAA...not listening!"

In the 80's, HIV was often dismissed by many people as something that would go away on it's own. Or that it was killing such a small number of people that to take notice of it and take precautions against it was overreacting. The new variants of Covid that are popping up all over the world as the virus mutates are revealing a grim possibility: That being, Covid will probably not just disappear. In fact, like HIV, Covid may be here for good, and will require you to take precautions against it...forever. This may mean wearing a mask whenever you go somewhere with a large group of people, like a concert or a super bowl party. It may mean you getting an updated vaccine every year. It may mean (God forbid) you actually have someone die close to you that had attended an event you condoned as being "I'm gonna live my life and hang out with my friends/family on Thanksgiving, regardless."

Dr. Fauci was asked if people had taken the AIDS virus seriously when it was discovered, would the death toll have been so great. He said "I can't be certain of numbers, but I know the reduction would have been significant. Possibly by as much as 90%. We would still have HIV among us, but the transmission rates would be so small in number due to precautions being taken that cases would be minimal."

I'm wondering: What if we had listened?

**NPR News [Radio broadcast]. (2021, February 4). Dr. Anthony Fauci Interview.

 

 

Day 21 - D♭ Minor

One day, I was on a long layover at the airport in Munich, and I happened to hear music coming from down one hallway of terminals. It was a harmonica; I knew that. I followed the sound and found the player, a lone man in an empty terminal just passing the time. There was no hat at his feet as to indicate he was asking for tips. I sat down and listened. He saw me and nodded as he played. I didn't know the tune, but aside from that, it didn't sound like any harmonica I had heard before. It was somber, and ominous, like it was meant to be played in mourning.   

When he finished, I said "Sprichst du Englisch?" 

He smiled "Nein, Ench." 

I said "Wie heißt sie?" (What is it called?") 

He said "Die Loreley".

 

I came over to him and motioned that I'd like to see his harmonica. My grandfather had played, and I wanted to know what was different with this harmonica. Why did it sounds so dark? As I discovered, it was in a minor key, and not just like E-flat or C-sharp, but a minor harp. (Something I did not know existed.)

I never forgot that moment, and I made a note that one day if I ever decided to learn to play, I wanted to minor harp. A few years ago, I stumbled across one, and I picked it up for a good price. I played with it a bit, and finally put it away out of frustration. I picked it up again a few days ago, and I'm actually trying to actually learn now.

Be thankful you do not live in my home at the moment. (Haha!)

A Fragile Web - Day 20

 

When I started this blog, I said I was going to be open and candid about mental illness; mine especially. That means saying how it makes you feel, even if you think you will be judged, shamed, pitied, or laughed at. As I write this particular entry, the only things that worries me more than people not reading it (after me putting this much courage into writing it) is people reading it, because of how much this one seemingly silly aspect of it affects me.

When my uncle passed away back when I was a teen, I noticed how over the next few weeks and months my aunt began to hoard things that reminded her of him. Not just photos, as you might expect, but things. These things, as I would later learn from my own experience with grief, formed a chain of memories. He was not coming back, but there were things of his that remained. But those things created another link to the chain, and another. Such that had my uncle returned from the dead, he might look at some of these things and say "What on earth does that have to do with me, Harriet?"

My uncle was gone. But my aunt remembered the two of them visiting Louisiana the year before. It was one of the last things they did together where there was no pain and worry, so Louisiana became precious to her. That was the first link in the chain. While in Louisiana, they ate at a French restaurant, and she had fallen in love with the food. So she began cooking French cuisine, because it made her think of Louisiana, and of him. She began learning French, a little bit at a time. She collected French knickknacks. She found the dinnerware the restaurant had used, and ordered it. The plates had roses on them, and she planted roses in her back yard to match the plates. She would sit out on her back patio and look at her roses, listening to French music. The roses that matched the plates from the French restaurant with the music that reminded her of Louisiana, and of their last trip together. Those roses, then, reminded her of him.

I realize over the years I have done the same thing. When I came back from Romania in 2014, knowing it would be a long, long time (if ever) before I might return, my heart was broken over it. That was when the PTSD began. On the flight over to Romania, I had read a book I found at the airport. The book was set in Germany during WWII. I began wanting to learn more about WWII Germany, because it was a connection with Romania. Germany equals that book which equals that flight which equals Romania. (I now own 4 copies of that book, by the way.) In addition to learning Romanian, I also began learning German, because German equals the airport in Munich which equals Romania. One day, I was sitting in a bookstore that sold video games and there was a game playing on DEMO mode on a TV; FIFA 15. The song playing reminded me of music in the airport in Munich, so I bought the game and began learning the mechanics of soccer. I found comfort in that store, so I applied to work there, and got hired. It was so good for me. Unfortunately, the job ended with a management change, but while I was working there, I found this rubber ball behind the counter and I would play with it before the store opened as I stocked shelves. It was a red icosagon called a Moon Ball. The ball is one thing I have left from when I worked at that store and makes me think of the friends I made there, that I miss dearly.

The Moon Ball equals the bookstore which equals the video game which equals soccer which equals Germany which equals the book which equals the flight to Munich which equals Romania. This doesn't even include all the little smaller things along the way like Jacobs coffee and a harmonica in the key of Db minor.

What results is a complex web of things that, like my uncle, if the original person knew I had collected as a result of their loss would probably be very confused. (What does that harmonica, or that Moon Ball have to do with a little city in Northern Romania?) But a chain has been formed, and unhealthy though it may be, it has given me interests that had the original trauma not occurred, might never have become a part of my life, for better or worse.

Most who were a part of my journey to Romania will probably never read this. Most have probably moved on to other areas of their life, as I have in many ways. The point is, this aspect of who I am permanently ties that part of my life to that harmonica, or that rubber ball.

Maybe in reading this, there are others who will identify with this, and know they are not alone.

Day 19 - Unity and Covid-19

 

Today, I was listening to a radio program on one of those obscure AM stations that nobody but old men listen to. At least, that's what I always have believed. I had turned on the radio and it was on AM for some reason, and the person talking caught my interest, so I listened for a bit. He was a doctor who works for the CDC, and he was talking about the pandemic and the challenges the incoming administration will be facing in dealing with it. The host asked him "What do you think it will take for America to get a handle on the pandemic between now and when we can actually get enough people vaccinated for us to be able to breathe a bit more freely, so to speak?" The doctor, whose name I can't remember, laid out five obstacles we must overcome as a people in America in order for this to work, and all five must be accomplished in some way or the remaining ones won't be very effective--like trying to make a table stand up with one of it's legs missing.

1. We must be willing to social distance and wear masks consistently for a few months, without anybody going rogue and organizing an event with lots of people unmasked. No matter how much you might want to have that family reunion or that wedding with dozens of guests, it needs to be put off until after we have this under control. That could take up to another year, even if we do follow all these guidelines.

2. We must be willing to forget conspiracy theories about Covid that downplay the seriousness or infection rates, and that's going to be difficult, because when someone believes a conspiracy theory and another person tries to show them evidence that it's false, the person embracing the conspiracy theory will likely say "Well of course, that's what they want you to believe, but this article I read (on this obscure website) says different, so I'm not gonna do that."

3. We must be willing to put the health of others ahead of our own comfort. This means wearing a mask when you go out, even if it inconveniences you or makes you uncomfortable. It also means mentally bypassing messages you've heard that say masks don't work, and just wearing the mask. The idea of "I just want to live my life and accept the risks." is not putting the health of others first.

4. We have to be willing to put aside political differences that have been unfairly assigned to the pandemic itself. We can't make our decision to wear masks, social distance, or take precautions dependent on our political platform. Covid doesn't care if you are a Republican or Democrat, and it doesn't care about your "freedom".

5. We have to recognize that the way we have handled it the past year has been inconsistent across states, cities and even across neighborhoods. We all must work together and follow the same protocols as a UNIT, from Washington State to Florida State. If we don't, millions will die, and that is a fact whether you want it to be or not.

The five points he mentioned above were steps that we, as people would have to be willing to do on a personal level.

The doctor added on afterward, that these are not the only things that must happen. Steps will have to be taken to keep businesses in business, and commerce going during the time of "hunkering down". Other things will have to be addressed, as well. International travel will have to be shut down except in the most dire of circumstances, for example. Domestic travel may have to be limited to business only, and on flights with much fewer people on board. 

After listening to the broadcast, I had to wonder: Are we willing to do these things?

Day 18 - Unmasked

Two days until the inauguration of Joe Biden as the 46th president of the United States. I have noticed a level of anger and rage across social media like never before. There is, however, a psychological explanation for much of it, and it comes down to a cognitive function of the brain that controls the pleasure sensors.

 

A child with strict parents who gets to visit a friend with parents who let them get away with whatever they want will want to spend as much time with that friend as possible. If the child's parents find out about this, and say "You can't go over there anymore.", the child will likely throw a fit. It's because a primal emotional desire they had in their heart was allowed to flourish, stimulating pleasure sensors in their brain they had never been allowed to feel before...and now it will be taken away from them.

 

Trump did not plant the seed of hatred, racism, misogyny, homophobia, and nationalism in the minds and hearts of his most ardent followers.

It was already there.

He just told them it was their right to embrace those things, and ok to display them openly without shame.

He didn't create them. He emboldened them.

And the reason so many people are enraged about his being voted out is because they believe they will have to quell those feelings again, and go back into hiding.

So when you encounter snarky little comments on posts you made about racial equality, gender acceptance, empathy, women's rights, or wearing a ******* mask as you should, know that many of those comments are tiny flames of anger, wanting to burn a little bit longer.

And they will. Dear God, they will.

 

WTF Just Happened? (Day 17)

 

Very few people will likely read this. If you did, thank you. The world is very distracted right now.

However, if you unilaterally support President Trump, this is probably going to piss you off. Be aware.

This past week the US Capitol was stormed by a mob of right-wing nutcases goaded on by the President of the United States in an attempt to overthrow our democracy. He did this with malice, direct intent, and committed treason against the USA in so doing. 

(No, I don't care if you disagree with any of those statements. My blog. I say what I want. Unfriend me if you wish; six people have already done so this week.)

In the days following, the world polarized itself even further. Most republicans made excuses for Trump's act or claimed it wasn't actually right wingnuts who did it but Antifa in disguise. Democrats demonized the right in all levels and forms. One thing was certain, to me anyway, and that was the President of the United States was having a field day. He had made people hate one another even more, a small consolation for his LEGALLY lost election. Just like the king in this cartoon:

So the pitchfork people marched to the capitol and laid siege to it. Shattering windows, carrying pipe bombs and guns and confederate/TRUMP flags, all the while claiming that the torch people were trying to confirm an election that was full of corruption.

Yesterday, on one of of my Facebook friends' pages, they had made a post calling all democrats "vile, evil people." Being a democrat myself, I asked them if I was a vile, evil person also. They informed me that I support and vote for vile, evil people, regardless of that question.

So there we are. (No, I will not say who this person is. Don't ask.)

I tried to think of words to say today, but none of them seemed to fit what my heart was feeling. What I do know, is that a lot of "torch" people are claiming Donald Trump is stupid. No, he is not. Perhaps about how a government works, yes, but not about how to work a crowd. He's brilliant at that. The past 4 years, he has been skillfully crafting a defense against an outcome that he knew was imminent.

He told his base that he was their only friend, and that he was the only one who was listening to them. When you feel small, let me tell you, having someone say they care about you and they are listening to you is a very powerful thing.

He told his base that he would tell them the news sources to listen to, and to be skeptical of all others. By doing so, he directed their preferred news sources to ones he could control.

He told his base that if they heard any news that painted him in a bad light, to immediately dismiss it as "fake news" meant to discredit him. In so doing, he made sure that all news sources other than him personally could potentially be wrong, no matter how damning the evidence.

He told his base that the world was controlled by liberals; especially the media. In doing so, he made ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, all major newspapers, and all international news sources appear dishonest, so that nothing they reported would be taken seriously by them.

He told his base that the world was jealous of America, and that any country that criticized us was an enemy. This made sure any show of scorn from anyone outside our borders would be ignored.

He told his base that his was the party of Christianity, and anyone who criticized his party was not on the side of God. By doing this, he made them feel as though they were the ones doing God's work, and the other side was the side of apostasy.

(This also ensured that any time anyone questioned their actions as being contrary to what the Bible said Christians should be, it meant that they were being persecuted. The Bible clearly states that Christians will be persecuted, and to be thankful when you are (James 1:2), because it means you are not a part of this world (John 15:19), and those who criticize you are. This often creates a false sense of pride in being a Christian, making you think "Thank goodness I am not a sinner like them!" (Luke 18:9-14)

He told his base that any republican who was critical of him was a RINO, and that made them worse than democrats. Doing this, he made sure that all inside voices of reason were silenced.

He told his base that if he lost the election, it would be due to voter fraud, and that the left would try to convince them it was an honest election to cover up their agenda. In doing so, he ensured that if he lost, he could throw the country into chaos, pitting the citizens against themselves for his own amusement.

And now, here we are. Right where he wanted us.

The war cry of "Stop the steal!" was emblazoned on the lips of his supporters. Psychology is at work, here. If you are playing cards with someone, and they cheat, you know they are dishonest, and you simply throw your cards down and the game is done. You don't play with them anymore. If they steal from you, however like grabbing your chips when you weren't looking, you will jump up and demand they return them, wrestling them from their hand if need be. Trump knew that if he portrayed this as a stolen election rather than just a fraudulent one, he could create a sense of entitlement in his supporters, so that if he lost, they would see it as them having been ripped off.

I asked my nephew (who works in DC) that if Trump lost, how long would it take the nation to heal? He said "We will be fighting them (his base) for a least a generation." (A generation is 20-30 years, for reference.)

Trump's base HATES Joe Biden. You will NOT convince them to respect him, much less agree with him. Don't even try. Trump's base is LOST and we will never get them back. The only way we will get them back is if they are willing to abandon Trump, and they NEVER will.

So what we must do as Americans is unite together in the groups that still are willing to listen to one another. We have to have EMPATHY. Empathy is not sympathy. Empathy is being willing to understand why another person feels how they do.

You can have EMPATHY for Adolf Hitler, for example, even though he deserves no SYMPATHY.

Americans have to learn empathy. We have to be willing to understand one another. This begins not by saying "What the hell is wrong with you?" to someone on the other side. It begins by you listening to them. A lot of what they believe may be incorrect, or spun in ways littered with confirmation bias and cognitive dissonance. You have to be willing to listen and disagree with them kindly and politely. It may not work, but we must try.

I am a WWII buff, specifically in the area of Nazi Germany and the Holocaust. I could write pages on this, but instead I will just share this video by Arnold Schwarzenegger, the governor of California. He is a republican, an immigrant, and contrary to what many think, he isn't just a movie star. Actors are often told they should keep their political opinions to themselves and stick to acting. The problem is that they are people like everyone else, and actually have ideas and opinions. Most are very well thought out, and all are relevant. 

As ALL people are.

Depth of Field (Day 16)

 

It's been a while since I have blogged. To be honest, I haven't had the emotional energy. Politics made me tired. School made me tired. Religion made me tired. People made me tired. But this is a new year, and I'm trying to make positive changes. One is to stop holding my feelings inside. For the past few months, I have been steering clear of talking about controversial topics in my posts out of fear that I might offend a friend or a customer. I've put myself in a "jail of caution". What resulted was almost no change whatsoever. Some friends still ignored me. Some customers still vanished. So for all my worry, the outcome still happened. So screw that. I'm going to talk about things I want to talk about, and let the consequences occur where they may.

First, a word about politics. I think most people know how I lean (heavily) on that. So I'm not going to discuss them. Period. Ever.

Everything else is open season. I'm going to blog once a week, on Mondays. So buckle in. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm a photographer, and while most of my work is in portraiture, I do love still life and fine art photography. The two images below were both taken at the same time, with the same lens:

The first image was taken with my lens set at F/2.0 aperture. The second was taken at F/22. As you can see, in the first image, only the vine in the forefront is in focus; everything else melts away into a blur. People pay a lot of money to get a lens that does that; a lens that can make the background vanish. In the second image, the vine in front is still in focus, but the vines behind it are now very much visible.

I'll admit, it's pleasant to only see what we want to see. To make believe that what we are and what we believe is the only thing that matters, or the thing that matters most. I used to believe that. I attended a church where the only Bible was the KJV and translations based off it, and any religion outside of our own was to some degree wrong. I was told that the Bible I held in front of me was in inerrant and inspired Word of God, and to question any of it, or insinuate anything might be misconstrued or mistranslated was exactly what Satan wanted. That deviating from it in any way was a sin, and that included questioning whether or not this word or verse might have more than one meaning. In short, if you question the bible, you are falling into a trap created by Satan to make you fall away from God.

I believed, for example, that being gay was a choice. I believed acting on being gay was a sin. I also believed that being a democrat or liberal meant you were a baby killer and a worshiper of the immoral. I proudly set my sights on bringing as many people around to my way of thinking as I could, because, I believed that was what Christ called us to do. I had my aperture set firmly at F/2.0, seeing everything that was behind that first vine as something that should be erased from view, or questioned harshly.

Over the years, some major events occurred in my life that made my aperture begin to see more of the big picture. I won't go into all of them in this post, but I will address a lot of them in upcoming ones. I now believe that being gay is not a choice any more than being straight. That people of the same sex have just as much a right to love one another and marry as straight people do. I am well aware that those beliefs will be seen by many evangelicals as my faith being tainted by sin, and that as a result, I may be given greater scrutiny, or even not allowed to teach in the future, which is something I love more than anything. 

I do love the Lord with all my heart. I do not believe being gay or being a liberal is a sin. There is nothing you can say to me that will change that. I had a discussion with a friend a few months ago, wherein after us talking about this for a bit said "Daniel, do you believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God?" I said I did. They said "Then are you saying that some of the Word of God is wrong?" I said that some of it may have been intentionally mistranslated for personal preference or agenda. They said that is exactly what Satan wanted me to believe, and that I have fallen into a well-laid trap. I don't fault them for saying that, because until I allowed my heart and eyes to open, I felt the same way.

I am well aware that many will disagree with me on that one point. That's fine. I've actually had people ask me if I have turned gay, and that's why I'm choosing this way of believing. I've had people unfollow me, unfriend me, and shut me out of their lives over it. I know that a lot of people who used to read my posts and blogs won't even see this one because they have hidden me from their feeds...setting their minds at F/2.0. Understand, it's not that they don't see the vines in the background, it's that they have chosen to either ignore them, or say they are in some way wrong.

It's convenient to set your mind at F/2.0. You don't have to care about as many things or consider them. In the movie "The Matrix", Neo was unaware of the world right in front of him until he took the red pill.

I took the red pill. I'm going to lose friends over that. I'm going to be told that the red pill was poisonous and that I'm being deceived. However, the friends I have gained by seeing them and loving them and embracing them are gifts I would never give back. 

I choose love. I choose acceptance. I choose tolerance. 

I've lost church friends over this. I've lost teaching opportunities. I've lost leadership roles. I've been kicked out of groups and churches and told I'm not welcome anymore. It absolutely breaks my heart, and I have dealt with crushing depression and PTSD because of it. Things I will never overcome, but yet I will bear for the sake of love.

This is already running long, and many won't even bother reading it. We have become a generation of "TLDR". (Too long, didn't read.) We'll spend hours scrolling through photos of puppies and pointless memes but won't take 10 minutes to open our hearts and minds to something new. 

However, this is what my heart has been screaming to talk about; and not just the LGBTQ+ community; so many other things. These are things I will talk about this year, with the knowledge that doing so may rob me of so much more.

As I said, buckle in. Some of what I write will be joyful, and some full of anger and pain. But it's all me.