74 days love, dammit!

It has never been a non-Christian that reminds me why I refuse to call myself a Christian; it’s always a Christian. A sermon on marriage today reveals continued institutionalized homophobia, transphobia, polyphobia, anything that is not a man and a woman in a straight binary marriage -phobia. The frustrating part is that it is dressed up in praise and worship of an institutional god that is also preached to be love. I had this conversation with god when I was in the ninth grade. God is love. God loves love. I’m not the youngest or most progressive among my peers, so my opinions may be lacking, but I try. I am human. I fall short. Its okay.

To each their own but god is love. God wants me to be happy. God doesn’t make it difficult the path for those who seek him. He says get your asses over here and love. Better yet, stay where you are, I’ll meet you there! You don’t have to be a certain way or say a certain thing. The greatest good — that’s god. It’s not about a man and a woman. We are constantly redefining what humanity is. Does god want to impede that? Hell no. Be you. Do you. Love yourself. Love and be loved. Do no harm.

Cisgendered heterosexual’s, cisgendered homosexuals, queers, trans, bisexuals, transitioning folk, sapiosexuals, polysexuals, asexuals, pansexuals, omnisexuals, gray A, kinksters, and I’m sure I missing someone or saying something wrong, but you! I mean you. You, too. Get out and love and be loved. You are worthy. Belong. Stop fitting in. Give your fear to love (god). Don’t be scared because of love (god). A wife does not submit to her husband unless it’s a sex game and there’s a safe word. TeeHee. Come together as equals and love. Put god in the middle. A loving caring god, not a list god with rules and fears and don’ts. Be free. Love freely. Give every scrap of love that you have away. You’ll receive so much back that you will never run on empty. Accept people. Accept love. Do no harm. The greatest of these is love.

If there is a heaven, do you think you are going to walk up to a pearly white gate and god’s gonna say, “Can’t sit here. You divorced an emotionally abusive ass-hat spouse,” or “Sorry, no homos allowed in heaven.” How about, “I loved your dedication to your family for 25 human years, but you chose to leave incompatibility in lieu of becoming your true self and we simply cannot have that in heaven.” “You made a human mistake in marrying the wrong person, but you should have stayed tied to that dead weight and when you died I could have received you into my heaven.” Do you really think god would say such things? Not my god. We’re destroying our children by divorcing?! Can you hear yourself? What about a childhood of anger and abuse, or silence and abandonment? This is good for the kiddos?

Pastor said today that he prayed for more young people to be in church the next time this preaching comes up. I pray for them to run the hell away and save themselves from this confusion. Save yourself. Love yourself -- no matter what. Do not judge another. Who are you? Not god, that’s who. Your opinion is simply that. Everyone has one. Spread peace, connectedness, love, joy,belonging: keep the rest to yourself. I cannot believe we are still teaching discrimination in the name of god. I bet she’s pissed.

But again, who the hell am i to say. Everyone is different. To each their own. I have a metric fuck ton of mistakes in my past. I’m proud of myself today. Proud of me, for me. It breaks my heart when someone of some kind of authority teaches and preaches discrimination, especially in the name of god. Sorry. I choose freedom.

Writer’s note: The irony of me telling you the keep your bigoted opinions to yourself while I vulnerably and irreverently express mine is not lost on me. Ah, freedom.

The 69th day of a new creation

This up-and-down of early recovery feels insane. Key word: feels. I think it’s no wonder addicts relapse. This feels uncomfortable and off kilter. I want to go back to the misery; what I know. I want to be alone in my own living room drinking and depressed in the middle of a pity party for one. What a fucked up disease this is that my head tells me that. Just quit, it says. Then no one can tell me what to do. What kind of illusion is that? Depression says pour more depressant in me to get relief. I know cognitively in my head this is all wrong. I know I must take the next right indicated action. Right now that means writing this. Not “listening” to my head. Follow directions of the spiritual guides in my life, in my heart. And tell my head to shut the fuck up. When I drink, I am at the mercy of a broken society with broken humans running it. I am not judging; I am one of those broken humans, a spiritual reflective one. A beginning thinker. God, give me one little thing at a time. I trust you.

Miracles are instantaneous and, well, miraculous. I have asked for help and it is here. It is here in the form of IKEA furniture with no instructions, but here nonetheless. So some days will be rough. And acceptance is the answer. Do not run. Face the day with God‘s hand in mine. Look to mothers for help. Mary, god’s mom, Diana, my mother, grandmother, Angie, spiritually guided women, and women in recovery. Really see them, love. Every day is a miracle. Today I will be grateful for that miracle no matter how hard and confusing it appears to be. My eyes are new. My heart is young. I am as vulnerable as a child learning to self sooth. Help me reach out to my mothers. Help me invest time in myself. The cravings will come. So will spiritual answers. Hardwork and sharp vigilance. Diligence. Patience. Consistency. Obvious results, steps backwards, and plateaus will all come and end with continued consistent work. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, but always. Keep working, love. Frustration may just be a crux. That is exactly where God is. I am already doing better than yesterday. Effort. There is hope. Why settle for just a piece of sky?

This is surrender

Don’t worry, mom, I have myself safely wrapped in bubble wrap. The room is padded and the lesbian toolbelt is stocked. The disease is pissed and pummeling me. I am used to fighting back. This has not worked for years and years. I am trying surrender. Let me tell you what this feels like. It feels like  am in a fetal position getting kicked about. Now since this has never actually happened to me, I feel unqualified to describe it like this. But again, I am not sure I have ever surrendered instead of fighting. So unqualified seems to fit. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. I am away from home and I want some comfort. “I want my Angie!” Thank god for god, extendo-rehab, spiritual beings including myself, chocolate, respect for the disease, spoken word, technology, love, emotions, tears, safety, long hair, belonging, music, and that bass. I choose life. I choose courage. And I get to choose again tomorrow. #loveholly