Hope. Support. Love.

To the GLBTQA youth of North Carolina:

Yeah, it blows. I was bawling so hard last night when I heard the news and I'm a few states away. I can only imagine your hurt and fear and grief right now.

I know you have good allies there. I hope you've seen the news where people are disgusted by this Amendment and vow to overturn it. I hope you've been able to hear one person say, 'this is so wrong.'

Cos it IS wrong. They talk about moral values and they preach about the bible and somehow, I don't think they get how ironic this is. I mean, people sure like to quote certain passages in the bible about how being queer is a sin and you'll burn in hell but they sure don't like it when someone points out to them that they shouldn't play football. Or wear cotton-polyester. Or have a tattoo. That's called hypocrisy and it's a fancy word for people who don't like having their own words proven false.

Here's something I want you to know. You have more people who care and support and Love you than you even know. Seriously. There's a whole country, wait, a whole WORLD full of people who understand and accept you just as you are. We think you're pretty amazing brilliant fantastic the cat's meow you name it, that's who you are.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You don't need to be fixed. You don't need 'straight therapy'. You certainly don't need someone making your daily life a living hell. hah. They say, 'you'll burn in hell??' I bet you want to say, 'can't be any worse than what I go through every day of my life right now.'

And I'm really sorry. I'm sorry that you are being hurt like that. 

And to me, you are the bravest people I know. Being a teen can suck on a good day. Being an out GLBTQA teen can make those days a picnic at times. But there you are, being you. If I could, I'd hug every single one of you. 

I know you've read about the Civil Rights movement and that time where people united together to end segregation. It was a hard, scary time. People were murdered and hurt and called names....dogs and fire hoses were used...and the brutality was just awful. But they did it. They didn't stop and they kept on until finally, equality was law.

And it'll happen here, too. It's a hard, scary time. People have been murdered and have been hurt and been called names. There has been brutality and it's been awful. But we're not backing down. We're united and we're going to keep going until it truly is equality for all.

I know it hurts. And I know it's tempting to give up hope and to think no one cares and no one understands and you're all alone. And unloved.

But hey....hey, that's not true. 

Don't give up hope. Don't believe those who tell you you're unloveable or unwanted. They're liars and they should be ashamed of themselves.

It might take a little longer...but the tide is turning. Change is happening. Trust me.

Hold my hand. Tight. I won't let go. I promise. Let's keep fighting, ok? Hate never wins. Love has always always overcome.

I Love you, don't forget that, no matter where you are, big city, little town, countryside or seaside...

Never forget that, ok? And remember this, too...

Love is Love.

 

K.

The day after, my thoughts become clear...

So yesterday, North Carolina (well, 60%) voted to approve Amendment One which basically screws over ANYONE who is not married. Oh, and not heterosexual. This amuses me cos the fine print apparently wasn't read and people didn't realize that this meant domestic partnerships and civil unions and ANYTHING that isn't stamped 'MARRIED' is null and void.

I raged, I admit. I raged, I cried my eyes out (ten minutes which meant I had these horrid mad dog red eye Hound of Baskerville eyes). Then, I calmed down. Keep me angry, mon chats. Me being angry is a lot like The Hulk on a rampage. Lokis better run. But me calm? Now we're talking his alter ego and Dr. Bruce Banner is one scary smart man.

Thank you to the 40% who voted against the Amendment. I forgot (as did a lot of people) that not everyone was for this travesty. There were a LOT of people working their hearts out to try and defeat this. I have some dear friends who live in that state and let me tell you, they are NOT happy. And so, to you who support my queer ass, thank you. I <3 the hell out of you, every single one of you.

Thank you to the 60% who voted for the Amendment. See, what we all forgot was that North Carolina is NOT the first state to pass something like this. We have 30 (count them THIRTY) states who have added amendments banning same sex marriage. This just isn't a North Carolina problem. This is a problem in our United States of America. North Carolina helped provide the focus but let's not forget we have 29 other states who are on the same page.

And ya'll can talk about democracy. And ya'll can tell me that the times will change. And my response is going to be a very soft reply (cos otherwise, I'd scream it): And it's too bad that our GLBTQ youth who commit suicide and are being bullied and being beaten are paying the price until then.

I live here in Minnesota and this November, our state is gearing up for its own Amendment vote. I never thought I'd see the day. This state which was the pride of liberal openness and acceptance, which had the great Hubert H. Humphrey and the fiery Paul Wellstone as our senators...this state which for quite some time was the keyword when it came to tolerance has become a state I don't recognize anymore.

And so this November, I'm going to go to the polls, and I'm going to vote NO and I'm going to tell everyone I know that they need to strike this Amendment down. I'm telling my friends that they need to volunteer with United For All Families cos they're working SO hard to talk to everyone they can reach and tell them, 'this is who I am. I'm not the boogie man. I'm not someone to be afraid of. I'm just like you.'

I'm just like you. I go to school and fret about tests and homework assignments. I work part time and worry about money. I enjoy reading science fiction and fantasy. I love to get together with friends and hang out and talk. I have two amazing sons who I Love Love Love...I live with mental illness and have good days and bad days. I have an amazing husband who Loves me for me and my sexuality has never been an issue with him. 

My sexuality is a part of me, just like it's a part of you. It doesn't make EVERYTHING about me, just like it doesn't make EVERYTHING about you so why does it have to be front and centre? For goodness sake, it's really none of your business just like your sexuality is really none of my business and aren't there more interesting things to know about a person?

I'm hoping that our country is reaching a turning point. Just like it did in the Civil Rights era. People want to move forward, not stay in the past where GLBTQ folk are discriminated against, are not seen as equal citizens like heterosexual people, are concerned for their lives and the lives of their friends and those they love.

I'm hoping that there will come a day where GLBTQ youth will be loved and accepted for who they are.

I'm hoping that people remember that Jesus taught us to Love one another as we wished to be Loved. To cast no stones. To treat others the way we wish to be treated.

Love is not hate. Love is not what I've seen these past few years.

I believe we can turn this around. 

Faith Hope and Love and the greatest of all is Love.

 

I should be sleeping...

I should be but I'm not.

I find it difficult to sleep when I'm stressed out and worried and depressed and worried and scared.

Did I mention scared?

What I need/want/like is to be held tight so that I can barely wiggle...and told I'm Loved.

I imagine the hyperventilating will calm down, eventually.

It depends, though. I don't always like to be touched. And it depends on who the person is.

I'm going to try and get some rest. I hope that tomorrow is going to be less stressful.

Just scared and stressed.

Not the best of combinations.

Keeping the child alive or why I have a YA book in hand...

So there was this opinion post written by a gentleman which has caused quite the furor amongst those who read. He says that adults should stick to reading adult books cos it's not kosher to read YA books.

I'm trying to figure out if he's trying to pull the other one cos after reading it myself, I went, 'really??'

OK. So.

Not like I want to throw fuel on the fire or sound like a troll but I figure, my initial reaction ought to be entertaining.

My first thought was: what an arrogant ass.

Then, I thought about it some more, re-read his post, and decided it would be best for me to write it out. Like I was writing an adult novel, dig it.

As some of you know (ok, most of you), I'm a HUGE Harry Potter fan. I also am a huge fan of YA books as well. I am amazed at the selection that is available nowadays in the book stores for young adults. I didn't have even close to that when I was that age.

I have read the 'adult' books and frankly? I couldn't finish half of them. There is only so much self-awareness I can handle and bad writing and posturing that has me wanting to throw up in my mouth.

Look, some of the best books in the world have been written for young adults. 'The Outsiders', 'Are you there god, it's me, margaret?', 'The Wind in the Willows', all of the Narnia books, 'Deerskin', 'A Wrinkle in Time' and I have to stop there cos otherwise, it's going to read like a who's who of awesomeness.

I didn't care for Twilight, myself but I know there are a lot of people who really like the books. I haven't read 'The Hunger Games' yet but my sons have all three books and I'm sure I'll kipe the first one just to see what all the buzz is about.

By the way, Mr. Stein, your synopsis of The Hunger Games was either you trying to be twee or you being clueless. Either way, puke...just sayin'.

And here's the thing, lads....Young Adult books are gateway books. Yes, yes they are. Cos when you read books that capture your imagination and won't let you go...then you want to find MORE books like that. You fall into the worlds and love and hate the people in between the pages and you have this honourary passport to all the worlds and countries listed within the books that have touched your heart and mind and imagination.

Why, I alone count myself as a proud traveler amongst many worlds and places. As a young reader/young adult reader, I whetted my appetite on books. Books helped me get through some pretty dark places and reminded me that I'm not alone.

And the thing I really like about YA novels and that I suspect why other 'adults' like them as well is cos they are so REAL. The emotions and the story and the people...it's that comfort of knowing that I'm not the only one who's been ostracized or who has had to make hard choices or who just doesn't give up even though the odds are against them. I will be 60 years old and I will choose to read YA novels cos it reminds me that I have so much in common with the younger people who read them. I don't ever want to forget that I was younger. I don't want my emotions and my thinking to become old and stagnant. My love of YA novels ensures that won't happen.

I'm not afraid of growing old. I know that my hair will become grey and that my body will slow down. This is a natural part of life. I am afraid of losing that child like wonder and awe at every day and not so every day things. I don't want to forget those emotions that run so strongly through me and so close to the surface. I don't want to become trapped in a rut, in a groove, in some stagnant pattern that strips away the essence of me and ages me in ways that are horrifying.

So I'll keep reading the YA novels that appeal to me. I'll re-read my old favourites. I'll go to movie adaptations with my boys (and maybe, someday with my grandkids)...I'll introduce my favourite novels to my boys and hypothetical grandkids so we can all talk about them and walk in those worlds for a while.

I read plenty of adult books, thanks. There are some good ones out there, too...but I owe it all to YA novels that enticed me and befriended me and helped me step from that path to the other.

If you see me in the YA aisle at the bookstore, don't assume I'm there to buy a book for someone younger....if you see me reading a YA book, don't think I don't have the chops to debate literary archetypes....when you smirk at me cos I've got a battered copy of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' or 'The Silver Chair' (one of my favourite Narnia books), I'm going to give you a cool stare back.

I'm not ashamed of my YA roots and I'm not about to give up my love affair with them cos it's 'not adult' enough. And I'm really really glad that my sons aren't ashamed of me for wanting to share their favourite YA novels with me. It's drawn us closer and we happily spend time discussing the big themes within them and why we like them so darn much.

So, I'm an embarrassment to people who have eagerly shed their childhood skin and consider themselves 'adults.' Eh. Whatever. Have fun with that.

I'll be over here perusing the YA section in the book store.

When the Darkness comes a calling, I hold on tight...

It's taken me some time to write this but I figure that being a coward hasn't ever sat well with me.

This past week has been me gripping the wheel of control with both hands, white knuckled all the way. I haven't had the luxury of relaxing. I'm still not as the ride isn't over yet.

Suicidal depression is such an odd beast. I have been on school break and one would think it wouldn't show up then, demanding my time and attention but that wasn't how it played out.

I've had dreams of loss and grief and hurt every night. I wake up and it's about all I can do to get out of bed, get into the shower, get dressed and pretend to be a functioning human being when it's all I can do to breathe.

Last Wednesday, I called in and came in late. I needed more time to pull myself together. I was too blown apart to even move.

My spoons, as the analogy goes, were in disarray and I had about four at my disposal. Maybe.

Facebook isn't much help. I am invited out to do things. Friends I know are having health issues and are doing their level best to kick ass and take names. Then there are the statuses that are all, 'be happy you're alive and get out there and live life!'

It's been like hot pokers in my eyes, to be honest. It's been me feeling ashamed and small because I'm holding on as hard as I can until I can feel somewhat sane again and I know I shouldn't feel ashamed because I'm fighting my own demons but there it is.

What I have to remind myself is that my own chemical illness is just as much a health condition as any one else's health issues. I may not have cancer or heart disease or a tumor but I'm trying to beat the odds just like everyone else. I know people might not understand. All I can say is that when my chemistry isn't fucked six ways to Sunday and I'm not fast talking myself to stay away from the sharp things in the house, I'm fine. I have the strength and presence of mind to enjoy life and to do All The Things. And I do.

And the truth of the matter is, I'm more often not fine than I am. I pretend really really well. It's when I can't pretend is when I slip and can't go places and do things and see people because I can't concentrate on more than one thing, maybe two.

I have made a promise to my sons that I would not leave them and I intend to keep that promise. This means that during the times when that voice, that Darkness tells me I'm worthless and I'm useless and no one Loves me and no one wants me and I'm better off dead and why don't I just DO it all ready because I'm fooling no one but myself and I'd be doing everyone a favour if I killed myself...when I am curled over myself about out of my mind because I can't stop that from talking to me no matter how I distract myself and books don't help and music doesn't help and I don't want to be around anyone...when the knives and the blades start looking like something good...I am no good around anyone.

I am exhausted. I dream about loss and I dream about boundaries being broken and I dream about being told I'm no good and I'm a failure. I can't escape even in my sleep and I wake up and I about want to just end it. Fucking call it.

Here's the secret, here's the thing: sometimes, sometimes it seems as though killing myself is the only control I have over all of this when it's too much.

At least (in that part of me that wants to end it) at least *I* made the decision. At least, I said, 'I'm done.' and walked off the stage on my own fucking terms.

I realize that the Darkness is a lie. I realize that when I'm feeling strong and the Darkness is but a murmur and I can shut it out, killing myself is the last thing I want to do.

So this entire past fucking week of shit, it's been the Darkness speaking and cajoling and finally, screaming at me non stop to do it.


I was supposed to go out today but I couldn't. I couldn't be around people and have them worry about me. I couldn't be around people because I couldn't hide what I'm struggling with and my eyes would be dead as I smiled and I...I wouldn't do that to anyone. Sides, going to a birthday party for a sweet one year old baby girl with the thoughts of suicide and hurt running a continuous loop in my brain is not something I want to be a part of. That's no birthday present. So I stayed away. Even though I absolutely wanted to see her...it will have to be another time when I can smile with my eyes and my heart.


It's hard to write about this because I do NOT want anyone's pity. Nor do I want people to think I'm weak or worthless or anything like that. Nor am I particularly interested in talking about it. I'm too damn busy shutting the Darkness down to talk a whole lot right now.

But writing about it hopefully lets people understand how fucking awful mental illness is and how it can affect a person and how deep it goes. It helps family and friends understand that it's not about seeking attention or playing around or whatever stupid bullshit assumption is brought up. No, I'm not here for anyone's entertainment, does this LOOK like it's fun?

I'll get by. I understand that it's the week before my Moon cycle and each month, I go through some variation of this. Some months are harder than others for some unknown reason. I've been going through this for a good 20 years so it's not like it's anything new. It just gets rather tiring after a while.

Here's the thing, lads. It may be that tomorrow, something in my head 'clicks' and the chemical imbalance tips back to where it should be and I feel a calm, a clearing of the fog, and I'm fine. I can push back against the Darkness with ease and tell it to shut the fuck up. I can be around people without feeling like I'm rubbing against barbed wire. I can smile and my eyes look alive again.

It may be tomorrow. It may be a week from now. All I know is that I hang on, I persevere, I remind myself that I will get through this...that I'm not going to listen to what the Darkness is telling me.

For now, though, I keep to myself. I drink tea and keep my sons and my husband close to me because they are the ones I Love so very much and have promised to stay with and I spare as much strength as I can...

It will pass.


K.

Coming Home

When I was a growing up, I went to the Catholic church in my town. The ritual of the service was wonderful to me. Singing the songs and partaking of Holy Communion was the highlight for me.

One thing I had wanted to do was be an altar server. Since I went to a Catholic grade school, my fellow classmates took turns to serve at mass. I wanted to do that, too. They got to wear long robes and carry candles and the book that the priest read from, and even helped with the bread and wine at Communion. How awesome was that??

Except, of course, that all my classmates who helped out were boys. This was back in the day before it became altar servers and was altar *boys*.

Me, being who I am, went to the priest I liked and pleaded my case. Surely God and Jesus would understand that I wanted to help out just like my friends got to. I was a good girl in class and my behavior in church was pretty good. (except, for that part where you had to hold hands during the 'Our Father' and I'd giggle a little with my guy friends while we held hands)

To his credit, the priest said he'd look into it. And he did. And the final verdict was that the bishop of our area said that girls couldn't be altar servers. Because, you know, it's altar *boys* and because Jesus had 12 MALE apostles.

No, seriously. This was the logic that was given to me. I couldn't be part of the mass because I am a girl. I'm not even going to get into the whole Eve and Garden of Eden thing and whatnot.

I was crushed. I had tears in my eyes. I couldn't understand why I was denied this just cos I didn't have a penis. I didn't say that, of course. I thanked the priest for his help and that's when the beginning of my break with the Catholic church began. (the coup de grace was the whole GLBTQ thing...you know, where people like ME are abominations and deviants and whatnot and are not welcome as real sexual human beings) But I digress.

I wandered a spiritual path that has included paganism and wicca (not necessarily the same, ya'll). I have studied some buddhism and taoism. I've looked at shamanism and in the end, I've called myself spiritual. Not necessarily religious. But spiritual? Yeah, no doubt about that.

A couple of months ago, I joined a church here in the Cities. It is the first GLBTQA church that was founded by GLBTQA people, here in the Twin Cities. It is a warm, loving, close knit community and I have felt welcome from the very first day. My spirituality is what matters and if it's a combination of this and that and whatever...who cares? Not the other church members. And not Pastor James.

Pastor James called me this past week to ask me if I'd be a co-celebrant with him at a service. At THIS church, the members help in every part of the service. Not only as communion servers and readers but also to celebrate the mass along with Pastor James. Me, remembering that crushed girl of 12 years old, was thrilled to see this. Women in this church are honoured and asked to be part of the service and the community and to be more than just the usual 'foundation' that the Catholic church allows. So much more.

I am deeply honoured to have been asked this. I accepted and this Sunday, I will co-celebrate mass with a man who I've come to admire deeply and respect greatly. I'll be in front of a community who cares about me and accepts me as I am.

Honoured and a little terrified (it's a little intimidating to do that sort of thing the first time around and the wonder involved will never wear off, no matter how many times I'm asked)....and also, I feel vindicated.

One church told me I couldn't because I am a woman. THIS church tells me I CAN because I am me....a woman. a queer asian activist who has felt something heal that has hurt inside for all these years.

It's especially fitting that we're celebrating the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. at our service. He was a man, a human being with faults, just like the rest of us...but he was an activist, an African American who was murdered because he dared to dream for all of us.

Pastor James thought it was fitting for me to do this because of what I'm doing in the queer community as well as throughout the Twin Cities. I'm just blown away with the comparison.

So, this feels like coming home to me. I have a home now....a place where I can grow in my spirituality. A place that feels safe.

I am blessed in so many ways. I have an embarrassment of riches in my life with my sons, with my husband, with my Chosen family and with my friends.

This is just the icing on the cake.


If I could have told my 12 year old self who was wiping at her tears that this would be my future...if I could tell her, 'it's OK. Because in the end, you WILL be validated', I would.

It does get better. In so many ways.


K.