journeying to the cross

Missing in action....

2010-11-13T13:27:00.008Z

So, it's been quite a while since I've posted here, so I thought I'd post some photos of what I've been up to in the meantime...

New Day Christian Youth Event - August 2010

The Huntington Gardens, California - September 2010

Coventry Cathedral, October 2010

Launde Abbey, November 2010

So that's what I'll be doing with the free newspaper this week...

2010-07-21T23:28:00.004+01:00

Jessica Jones from How about orange... has a step-by-step of how to make gift bags from newspaper. It looks quite simple; I might even have a go!

More Picnik...

2010-07-16T17:08:00.004+01:00

Picnik

2010-07-16T13:30:00.009+01:00

I really like all the stuff you can do on Picnik for free (and it makes being creative so much easier for those who can't grasp Photoshop!) I've been playing around with a photo I took yesterday. Which effect do you like the best? (You might need to open the full size photo to get the full effect). The first one is the original.

It's a beautiful day...

2010-07-14T14:48:00.003+01:00

I've been awake less that two hours and I've already lost faith in this day being any kind of success. I got up feeling pants but thought I'd probably feel better if I had dinner so I made dinner (that sounds more accomplished than it was; I microwaved dinner) and then managed to throw it all over myself, my bed and my BlackBerry. So dinner was nachos and coffee, I have to change the bed sheets and I have like, third degree burns because, turns out, chicken fricassee is HOTTER THAN THE SUN. If my BlackBerry stops working I'm just going to leap right over the line and go insane.

Yesterday wasn't any better; in fact, I'd go as far as to say it was worse. This medication needs to get its arse in gear because there are fifteen days until I need to return to work and hit the ground running and that involves being able to get out of bed. I'm worrying that this isn't the withdrawal or the new meds or any of that, that this is just me. Scary thought.

There's stuff I am trying to get my head around at the moment to do with needing other people. My opinion is that I shouldn't, my therapist's opinion is that I should and my Christian friends' opinion seems to be that I should but not as much as I need Jesus. That clears that up then, because Jesus seems to be MIA right about now. I feel like there's some magic formula to being a Christian that I've not found yet.

My head feels like it's going to explode.

Crisis averted!

2010-07-12T12:47:00.007+01:00

Well, I just about lost the will to live when earlier today I updated the layout on my blog and lost all of my links in the process. I tried to rebuild my blogroll from memory but I knew there was stuff missing and it was driving me mad! Luckily one of my friends had an old version of the blog open on her computer and could send me a list of my beloved blogs... peace is restored, for now :)

2010-07-11T14:37:00.000+01:00

(From Grey's Anatomy, Season 2 - Episode 15)

The one where this lesbian falls in love with the doctor with the kind eyes...

2010-07-07T20:54:00.009+01:00

Yesterday, my friend Sarah was wrapping some of her daughter's birthday presents at my flat. Obviously, this meant that Alfie had to get involved...

First, Sarah shows Alfie what he's meant to be doing...

Next, it's time for him to have a go by himself...

That's not a huge success, so it's time for the "hand over paw" technique...

You know what's simpler and a lot more fun? Sitting in a carrier bag.

2010-07-03T00:06:00.003+01:00

I think Seroxat withdrawal is making me manic. I don't have a bi-polar diagnosis and I've never before done mania in a big way (i.e. enough to be worrying) but I'm noticing it increasingly at the moment, and I don't feel in control.

SSRIs are not recommended for people who have manic tendencies. The drug I'm withdrawing from (Seroxat) and the drug I'll be starting next Friday (Prozac) are both SSRIs. It may be that as the mania is withdrawal induced, Prozac won't exacerbate it, but it might be worth mentioning to my psychiatrist.

I really hope this is withdrawal induced and will go away with all the other withdrawal stuff. I really don't want a bi-polar diagnosis.

I am the Son

2010-06-26T21:43:00.009+01:00

In my sleeping I felt your arms
lift me up and carry me
to the mountain where you laid me
washed away the blood and tears

I heard a voice cry out I'd died
to save a billion souls from pain
but I heard you whisper through your tears
"Father let him live again!"

They say I lay within the tomb
alone and cold for three long days
I remember the heat of pain
from where the nails were torn away

And I cried
for fear I'd died
and never see the sun again
or feel the earth beneath my feet
and smell the wet grass after rain

And on that third day, so they told me
Angels rolled the stone away
all I know is in my death sleep
suddenly a bright light came

I tore the sheets from 'round my head
and saw the sun and felt the breeze
and I stumbled to my feet
and walked into the bright new day

And all my life it seemed had led
to that moment in the sun
when I stood, the Word revealed
filled with light and born again

and I am the Spirit
I am the Father
I am the Son.

This was written and performed by Mark Arthur, whose wife is a friend of mine. You can find out more about him and his work on his YouTube channel or on his blog. Many thanks to Mark for giving me permission to re-post the video and his lyrics on this blog. I think this song is absolutely awesome.

A mixed bag of beautiful things...

2010-06-24T23:29:00.007+01:00

EDIT: You might've noticed that I already posted this once already, took it down and have now reposted it without the video. This is because I wanted to make sure that the author and his wife are OK for it to be reposted on this blog. Also, his wife has now provided me with the lyrics, which means that if I do get permission to post it, it really does deserve a post all of its own :)

I thought I'd follow in Sue's fancy pants "taking photos into the sun is really artistic" phase and I'm quite pleased with this! It wasn't a difficult shot to get... I happened to be lying on a bench at the time :)

This girl is seriously talented. Click on the picture to go to her blog.

'Everybody Loves a Lesbian'

2010-06-18T16:26:00.007+01:00

I've done my very best to transcribe the lyrics to this but there's a few lines that I'm not sure I've got right and a few others that I can't fathom at all so if anyone can correct/advise me that'd be super!

CASSANDRA: I think you’d make a really excellent lesbian.

KALI: Oh… right, well, cheers.

CASSANDRA: And think of the benefits. For one, you’d make a lot of new friends!

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

If you’re uncomfortable with coming out,
Just listen to what I says-bian.
Whatever anyone thinks of gays,
Everyone loves a lesbian!

Everybody loves a lesbian honey,
Norton’s passé, Ellen’s funny,
Let those Baptists think what they like,
There’s nothin’ – no nothing – quite like a dyke.

It’s so wrong when you see boys kissin’,
But girl on girl? See what you’re missin’,
Lindsey Lohan never stopped traffic,
‘Til she rode Sam Ronson and came out Sapphic.

Everybody loves a lesbian baby,
You shout yes during sex not maybe.
Camp is cliché, lezzies have class,
You’ll never find us cottagin’ for George Michael’s ass.

So what if our haircuts make us all look the same?
At least we don’t give the Catholic church a bad name,
While gay looks great in a girly frock,
Our ladies look lovely in a strap-on cock!

One more time!

Everybody loves a lesbian baby,
A muff-diving, rough-driving, car-fixing lady,
Come on out, join us in heaven,
We’ll soon be eating brunch off Pam St. Clement!

Woo-hoo!

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

KALI: Hmm… could I be the butch one?

CASSANDRA: If you like.

KALI: Still no.

Seroxat

2010-06-15T00:31:00.005+01:00

Seroxat is the brand name in the UK for the drug Paroxetine Hydrochloride. It is a Selective Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitor (SSRI); essentially, an anti-depressant in the same group as Prozac.

It is a powerful drug, one that I have been taking for six years since the age of 17. At the time it was first prescribed to me, there were still uncertainties about its effects, although there was certainly enough known about the dangers of Seroxat for me to now question why they ever prescribed it to a minor in the first place.

Without being specific about what has happened to me, it is now widely known that Seroxat can cause (or significantly increase) suicidal and self-injurious tendencies in its users, particularly adolescents. I would not consider this a desirable effect in an anti-depressant. It has also been widely criticised for the severe symptoms that can accompany withdrawal from the drug. This is the situation which I currently find myself in.

Withdrawal from Seroxat is something that I have chosen to do for two reasons. Firstly, because it no longer has a therapeutic effect (six years on the same drug will do that) and I would like to switch to something that does. Secondly, when the time comes, it will be far easier to completely withdraw from another SSRI than from Seroxat, and I do intend to be drug free at some point in the next few years. I started the withdrawal process at a point in my life where I couldn't have felt stronger or more confident, yet the withdrawal symptomology has been extreme. If I didn't know better I would think that I was becoming severely mentally ill again; despite the fact that I do know better, it's still hard not to think it sometimes. Case in point: I got lost coming home from work on Wednesday. Additionally, the physical effects are akin to having the flu.

The goal date is July 8th. This is the date at which I will have reduced Seroxat enough to be able to start taking Prozac alongside it. I've been told to expect that the Prozac will take at least a month to start having any effect, although anecdotal evidence from friends has indicated that it might be sooner than that. Either way, I think that reaching this milestone will have a positive psychological effect just because I've made it through the other side of a heinous six weeks.

Until then, I'll continue to fall over, get lost in familiar places and tell you the same story six times. It's a good job I have good friends :)

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive
characters are seared with scars.

Kahil Gibran

2010-06-07T22:13:00.006+01:00

Hell yeah. Made my day :)

2010-06-04T21:52:00.005+01:00

Tonight I've been watching Stephen Fry: The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive, which was aired on BBC4 as part of their Out of Mind season. This has comprised of the aforementioned programme (in two parts), a programme called She's Been Away (which my Freeview recorder decided not to bother with), a documentary called Sectioned (which was interesting but not gripping) and Mental: A History of the Madhouse, which I'm yet to watch but have high hopes for. The programmes were aired between 17th and 26th May but I am watching them gradually and when I'm feeling stable because otherwise they all have the potential to be triggering.

The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive is not available on BBC iPlayer, which is a shame because it's impossible to get hold of and those who missed its screening on BBC4 probably won't get a second chance to see it. (EDIT: I've lied - it can be bought through Amazon). I absolutely love Stephen Fry, and I admire his candour regarding what he has been through. Bipolar disorder (or manic depression) is one of the few diagnoses I don't have(!) but it was still an interesting watch and there were still things in there that rang true for me. In particular, they were following the story of a girl (whose name I forget) who had been a student at Cambridge when she had her first breakdown; she now can only work part-time due to the severity of her illness. While my story has a happier ending, this phrase from her therapist struck a chord:

She had grown up being seen as exceptional and she felt the illness had taken this away from her.

I have got a cheery weekend planned, involving food, friends and hopefully plenty of sunshine. Hope you all enjoy the weekend whatever it has in store!

2010-05-29T12:25:00.003+01:00

This morning has been quite interesting already! I'm on my way to Twickenham to (hopefully) see the Tigers crush the Saracens!

I was up at 9am as I needed to head off to feed my lovely friend Sue's kittens while she wades in mud at Glastonbudget! However as I was leaving the house I saw this hedgehog.

A quick check on Google confirmed that it really shouldn't have been doing this, so after a call to the RSPCA it was decided that he needed to be taken to the vet. So it was off to Sue's to feed the kitties, off to the vet to drop off the hedgehog and then back to mine to give my kitten his second breakfast via McDonalds to pick up MY breakfast!

Now on the M1 south. Go Tigers!

Those with father issues, look away now...

2010-05-07T23:44:00.001+01:00

I saw this advert on TV last night and it melted my heart. I know it's corny, I know it's unrealistic, but I absolutely love it!

2010-05-07T12:53:00.000+01:00

... Many of those who read this book feel burdened and incapacitated by the weight of their own sins. Let us be quite clear about this. We cannot stand shoulder to shoulder with Jesus... while we are unhealthily obsessed with our own shortcomings...

God hates sin because it has ruined his relationship with the world he loves, but at the risk of incurring thunderbolts, I would say that in the case of many of his followers, he is less concerned with their sin than with their priorities. And this brings us back to the idea of that ideal place of trust in Jesus, the place where there is no shore in sight, no prospect of success, occasional waves of sin and a sense of absolute safety in him. That place where all the demands of God, however extreme, are not just possible but highly likely to happen.

Adrian Plass - Jesus: Safe, Tender, Extreme
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange

2010-05-02T23:56:00.001+01:00

God does not hold grudges. We think we know that. But do we believe it as well as knowing it? If, like so many of us, you have done a Jonah and you now want to get back into the will of God, bear this in mind. It will be business as usual almost before you have time to take a breath, and the past will be just a bad dream. How good that will feel.

Adrian Plass - Jesus: Tender, Safe, Extreme
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange

Election Prayer

2010-05-02T22:22:00.002+01:00

I saw this on my friend Sally's blog, Journey Through the Field of Life. It's from the Diocese of Exeter's website and I liked it so much I thought it was definitely worth re-posting.

As we move towards casting votes that will affect future decision-making in our society,
let us reflect on what we do:

May we choose for the sake of the Earth,
not just the sake of the Constituency
May we think long-term and for future generations,
not for ourselves today and tomorrow
May we decide according to principles and policies,
not personalities and prejudices

Let our deliberations express a commitment to extend
and deepen our participatory democracy
Let our choices be influenced by what is best for the common good,
not for personal advantage
Let us vote for those who are voiceless and marginalised in a world
marked by injustice and inequality

Might we elect for peaceful solutions to situations of conflict, violence and war
Might we decide not only for what we can measure in our lives
but also for those aspects of life which are non-measurable
Might we seek a transforming politics built on respect,
integrity, accountability and hope

May we become part of the solutions which we advocate
Might we express solidarity with those who have no choice
Let peace be in our hearts and in our voting.

2010-04-30T13:56:00.000+01:00

Gary McFarlane is a Christian counsellor who works for Relate, a secular charity. He was fired from his job in 2008 because he refused to work with same-sex couples, saying they were 'sinful'.

As part of his job was to provide sex therapy to couples, I would be interested to know whether he provided this to unmarried same-sex couples. I'd be willing to bet that he did.

The Bible tells us that all sin is equal, but in Christian circles the apparent 'sin' of homosexuality seems to be considered worse and is pounced upon by some Christians to parade their morality. The reality is that the Bible speaks about the sinfulness of sex outside of marriage far more than the sinfulness of homosexuality.

Faith is such a beautiful thing. It's such a shame man got his hands on it and turned it into religion.

Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange

2010-04-25T10:03:00.003+01:00

This morning the news headlines were dominated by the comments made by the Foreign Office about the Pope. Everyone seems to be scandalised and everyone in central Government looks set to spend the next week grovelling and scraping themselves with broken pottery. (Just thought I'd throw in some Biblical-style grief there, given the subject).

The thing is, I've found it slightly amusing. It should never have happened, least of all from the Foreign Office, but it is a stark reminder that the Pope is becoming an object of ridicule to many, even those of faith. That a man should be able to stand up and condemn homosexuality to such a degree is sad, but it is the reality of a free world. Which means that those who think he's an outdated bigot should also be able to speak, unless your department is the one who is organising his trip to the UK in the first place.

2010-04-14T08:34:00.001+01:00

This is the first blog post I've ever sent via e-mail so let's see if it works!

God spoke to me yesterday about my attitude at work. Three (at least!) of the people I work with drive me nuts because of their attitude; not working hard enough or just not giving a damn. Then I spend my whole time watching them and grumbling because I'm busting my ass and they don't give a damn.

God made me realise just what I look like when I do that, and furthermore that it makes me stressed and grumpy to do it while the others carry on!

Time to 'be still and know He is God'.
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange

2010-04-03T21:21:00.007+01:00

It is possible that something interesting may happen tomorrow. Specifically, it is possible that History Maker by Delirious may top the UK music chart, making a Christian song UK number one on Easter Sunday. That would be pretty cool.

After watching Rage Against the Machine become Christmas #1, it became clear that a concerted effort aimed at achieving a UK #1 on a specific date was possible. Which meant that when I originally heard about this campaign, I was skeptical. To me, it seemed like Christians manipulating the UK charts to make it look like Christian music was capable of achieving that kind of mainstream popularity.

However, after thinking about it more, I realised that it's not actually about creating an artificial view of Christian music's popularity. What it's about is (hopefully) bringing a Christian song to the ears of millions of people across the UK on a day that is all about Jesus, not chocolate. I like that idea. (I also, for the record, like chocolate. A day that's all about Jesus *and* chocolate is fine by me).

Although I already owned History Maker, I've downloaded the two versions released specifically for this campaign (there's a live version and a studio version) as apart from anything else the money goes to charity. It helps that I love this song; it was popular (in Christian circles) around the time I became a Christian and reminds me of a very specific period of my early Christian life.

After tirelessly campaigning for the last week, the man behind it all has announced today to be a day where we stop asking people to download the track and instead spend our time praying and handing it all over to God. I'm excited to see what happens tomorrow. Even if History Maker doesn't achieve #1, it's likely it's going to be in the Top 10 which means airtime on all the radio chart shows.

Happy Easter everyone - He is risen!

2010-03-28T17:18:00.004+01:00

How do you like the new layout then?

This weekend has been very nice with very little achieved. On Friday night I went to a murder mystery party when I played the part of Queen Beth, then on Saturday morning I took my car to be MOT'd - and it passed! I spent the rest of the day cleaning and then today have done pretty much nothing but search for a new layout for my blog and watch Will and Grace. Tonight I'm going to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D - I've been wanting to see it for ages, I love Tim Burton! I heard that it'd had a lot of bad reviews, but the friends I've spoken to who have actually seen it said that it was fantastic. I'll let you know what I think tomorrow.

2010-03-03T20:20:00.004Z

While I was driving home today, I was listening to this podcast from Jesus Metropolitan Community Church. It's called 'My Authentic Self' and is based around Jeremiah 1:1, 4-10 which contains the famous verse

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
Before you were born I set you apart".

I have read that verse dozens of times, and had it quoted to and at me dozens more. It always seemed to be used in the context of placating me that I am who God meant me to be. That, on the surface, seems fine but it always made me a bit annoyed at God because there was a lot there that I didn't want to be there, that was caused by pain and hurt by other people.

In the podcast, Jeff Miner looked at it in a different way. He said that God knew us and formed us to be the people that he wanted us to be, but then our souls got wounded, often in very small ways but many, many times. And over the years, that meant the person God created became someone else entirely. Would God recognise that new person in the street?

This part practically grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me until I listened:

These are the ripple effects of the decisions we do and don't make. What is true for me is equally true for you. Your calling is not my calling, my calling is not Jeremiah's calling, but what is true of all of us is that we are spirit beings, we are eternal beings that God has very carefully designed and deployed into God's grand scheme of things for very specific purposes on important spiritual missions.

And what you do and who you become (and I'm talking about this holistically, not just occupationally) the events that you are supposed to participate in, the people that you are supposed to impact in life, how you are supposed to react in certain situations as you move through life - all of that is carefully, carefully calibrated and designed, and what you do and don't do will have ripple effects across God's eternal scheme of things.

If you don't summon the courage to be the you that God "knew", what will we do without you? How will we ever replace you?

2010-03-02T14:22:00.003Z

Courtesy of What Up, God? via LGBT Laughs

2010-02-26T15:24:00.001Z

I'm not usually one for these kind of pictures, they always seem a bit too twee... but when I saw this today it met with a kind of yearning that I've been experiencing recently.

2010-02-25T19:54:00.004Z

"When depression wars against us or some unaccountable sorrow wearies our soul, we should read Psalm 102 (O Lord, hear my prayer, let my cry come unto Thee...), the 37th (Fret not thyself because of evildoers, nor envy them that work iniquity...), then Psalm 27 (The Lord is my light...), and Psalm 91 (He that dwelleth in the help of the Most High...)

If we read these three times a day in the name of the Holy Trinity and with humility and zeal, giving ourselves over to the all-good Providence of God, then He shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light and thy judgment as the noonday. Submit thyself unto the Lord and supplicate Him (Ps. 35:6 - 7). It is useful also to read Psalm 40: With patience I waited patiently for the Lord, and he was attentive unto me."

Elder Ambrose of Optina

2010-02-20T22:45:00.004Z

Gena Dry was a former patient of Derek Gale, a therapist who was struck off by the Health Professions Council following testimony from Ms. Dry and five other patients (all women) about prolonged abuse he subjected them to. I say was, because she was found dead on a railway line last Thursday, believed by police to have committed suicide.

The detailed account of the hearing by the HPC is horrifying; what is even more so is that Derek Gale can continue practising. He has only been struck off as an arts therapist; there are many other titles, such as "psychotherapist" and "counsellor" that he can practise under without any professional regulation.

It sickens me that someone she went to for help took advantage of that and contributed to her distress. All psychotherapeutic posts, however they're named, need to be regulated by a professional body and soon - before other people are harmed as a result.

2010-02-20T13:03:00.003Z

I've not been tres inspired throughout yesterday and today; this could be explained, at least in part, by the high proportion of time I have spent asleep ;)

The lovely Tractor Girl over at Wibsite posted some fantastic Lent ideas last year, and I was pleased to see that she'd posted them again this year. So in the absence of any inspiration from me, I'd recommend heading over there and having a look. I shall most likely be stealing some of her inspiration in the weeks to come anyway :)

2010-02-18T23:08:00.002Z

I have always loved this piece of music. It reminds me of someone who I loved very much, but it also has the most beautiful harmonies and takes me to a place that I can't describe.

Thank you God.

2010-02-17T21:25:00.003Z

I've decided that during Lent I'm going to try to write regularly, (daily if possible) about the ways that I experience and have experienced God. I know that my non-Christian readers might think it's going to be a boring month or so, but I'm not writing from a Christian perspective (although there will be Christian elements). So give the posts a once over a least ;)

That said, today has been quite a day, so I've not got the time or the inclination to try and put together an at least half-decent post. Instead, I decided to post something that I wrote back in 2006, which I felt was and still is a pretty authentic description of how I perceive God. Obviously it's couched in Christian terminology, but there's something there for everyone, I'd say :)

Lord, you are the magic moment in my life
The 'catch your breath' feeling
When you experience pure beauty.
My God, I love you.

You breathe your spirit into me
And it's like drinking sunshine.
I breathe my worship back to you.
My King, I adore you.

There is no other like you
Who can give me everything my heart longs for.
You transform me, shape me, mould me.
King of my heart.

Abba, Father, you cradle me in your arms.
Hold me still while the world rushes by.
I am chosen; chosen by the Lord of heaven!
Abba, Father, you are my all.

2010-02-14T18:31:00.004Z

The kind of therapy that I'm having at the moment is called Transactional Analysis. Probably one of the most well-known books about TA is "I'm OK - You're OK" by Thomas. A. Harris. If you really want to know more I suggest you read it because I'm only about 28% awake right now, and that's not enough awake to even begin trying to explain how TA works!

The main difference that I've found between TA and the other kinds of therapy that I've had is that this one involves my childhood a hell of a lot more. Whether that's more about the therapist than the therapy I don't know, but I was reluctant to go down that road at first. Not because anything traumatic happened, in fact, precisely the opposite: I didn't want something making out of nothing. However, over the fifteen months that I've been having TA, I have found my therapist to be nothing but trustworthy, which means that about eight months ago I felt happy to discuss my childhood with her without fearing that she would somehow demonise innocent events and people and make them the reasons for my illness.

The last few weeks, I have been feeling quietly hopeful about how things are going, and right now, I don't want to say any more than that, for fear of speaking too soon.

California

2010-02-08T21:38:00.006Z

I'll admit that these aren't the most inspiring pictures of California, mainly because there was little time for seeing the sights in between all the stuff I packed into the few days I was there. But they're photos that bring back good memories. I plan to return to Southern California from September 14th to 28th this year. I was hoping to be able to book my flights last weekend but I didn't have enough money left after paying for my car to be serviced, so I have to wait until payday - 17 sleeps!

Absobloodylutely can't wait. Sun, sun, sun and lots of good friends :)

Perfection vs. A Job Well Done

2010-02-06T21:52:00.003Z

I know that I bang on about perfection quite a lot, but it's because trying to be perfect rules a lot of my life and is something I spend countless hours trying to get over. Recently I've been reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which talks a lot about 'quality' and doing things well. This actually caused a major shift in my thinking: Perfection is an ideal which is impossible to attain, but the idea of doing something with quality is attainable by anyone, since the definition of quality and having done something well differs from person to person. I might not be able to maintain motorcycles but I'd take a gamble that I can play a flute concerto better than most mechanics. However, if I decided to have a go at maintaining motorcycles, although my attempts would undoubtably be ham-fisted compared to that of a professional, if I truly did the best I was capable of then I would have done the job well.

I must say that the idea of quality and doing something well comes dangerously close, at times, to the consolatory, "You did your best". That phrase carries connotations of nothing but negativity and failure and growing up, I hated it with a passion and still do. If I wasn't the best then doing my best was nothing to celebrate. However I do feel that this concept of 'quality' differs subtly from this, although I'd find it hard to put the reasons into words. There must certainly be some difference, because I can accept the 'quality' line of thought but resent the other.

However, it's got me thinking about how I define doing things with quality, and when am I satisfied that I have? Yesterday morning I went tearing into work 30 minutes late, not having had time to do much more than brush my teeth. It crossed my mind that this wasn't doing things with quality, this wasn't doing my best - and I was annoyed with myself. What I found hard was trying to redeem the day, having started so badly. Surely the whole day was now tainted and I might as well go home and go back to bed? It's this mentality that I fight pretty much daily, and goes along the same line of reasoning as the perfection argument used to, which is that if I've not done something perfectly/well then I've spoilt the whole day/project/week and need to 'reset'.

So the 'quality' thing might seem like a epiphany, and in some ways it is, but it's also a very familiar wolf disguised in sheeps' clothing.

2010-02-03T20:11:00.002Z

Introducing my boy, Alfie! I got him on Friday. He's five months old and the new love of my life =) He settled in instantly and is so affectionate, to the point of not wanting me to sleep so I can pay attention to him... Yeah, that's already starting to get old. When I was up in the middle of the night trying to tire him out so he would sleep (and let me sleep!) I realised that perhaps it's time to teach him that it's OK to not be with me all of the time... by 'encouraging' him to sleep in the other room! (Shutting the door seems to be all the encouragement he needs... bless him!)

In other news, it's been quite the week. Decisions need to be made (by me, unfortunately) with regards to what my next step is mental health-wise, especially with regards to coming off medication. There are lots of options at the moment, which means I need to decide whether to a) come off them very (and I mean very) slowly or whether to b) go into hospital for a few weeks and come off them completely cold turkey. Neither is particularly attractive and consequently I'm continually vacillating from one option to the other.

Either option is going to mean a referral to a Consultant Psychiatrist. The appointments are usually in the outpatient part of the acute inpatient unit at the hospital, which is not a happy place to be. Which leads me on to the problem with b), which is that Leicester's mental health inpatient services are shit and unreliable. My therapist is looking into whether I can get a referral to a therapeutic community in Birmingham that she knows is good because she did a placement there. The difficulty is that it's expensive and I would have to convince Leicester PCT to fund my stay there.

Oh, and whatever I decide, I need to juggle work around it. Time to go back to sleep I think!

A funny exchange

2010-01-30T00:24:00.001Z

Last night I was at my parents' house and was sorting through some books with my mum. Her cat came into the room and I picked her up and gave her a cuddle, met by many miaows of distaste as she's just not that kind of cat.

My mum: Put her down!

Me: But I love her...!

My mum: I know, but love isn't about holding onto things so tightly that they can't breathe.

Wonderfully funny, made all the funnier because my mum wasn't intending to be profound :)

The Wisdom of No Escape, by Pema Chodron

2010-01-27T05:08:00.004Z

I stopped reading this book a while ago and I've been meaning for a while to update on here with the quotes that I particularly enjoyed. So seeing as I awoke naturally at 4.30am and am in a fairly good mood about this (now I've got my coffee!) I thought it was time.

The Wisdom of No Escape is written from the talks the author gave at a Buddhist retreat. Consequently, the chapters are each quite short and punchy, and cover one particular topic. I didn't really like this writing style because I prefer to go into detail about ideas and concepts, whereas even if the author did go back to an aforementioned topic, there was always the feeling of interruption like they'd just been for tea.

Nevertheless, there were a few quotes that I found particularly insightful, and here they are:

"Meditation practice isn't about trying to throw ourselves away and become something better. It's about befriending who we are already."

"Our brilliance, our juiciness, our spiciness, is all mixed up with our craziness and our confusion, and therefore it doesn't do any good to try to get rid of our so-called negative aspects, because in that process we also get rid of our basic wonderfulness."

"The problem is that the desire to change is funadamentally a form of agression toward yourself."

"... The basic point of it all is just to learn to be extremely honest and also wholehearted about what exists in your mind - thoughts, emotions, bodily sensations, the whole thing that adds up to what we call 'me' or 'I'."

2010-01-26T16:50:00.002Z

Discovered via Rhea at Hubbaduh, I absolutely LOVE this! I particularly love the guy at 2:15 who is like "I wasn't aware I had any flaws" :)

2010-01-23T13:46:00.002Z

The last few days have been particularly trying. I've spent far too much time in my own head, wandering about shaking my head and tutting at all the things that aren't perfect about me. The concept of perfection is something that continually dogs me, because I need to be perfect and if I'm not then I deserve to be punished, or at the very least I deserve the mess that I perceive my life to be in.

I'm currently reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintenance (which I stole from wonderful Sue). It's the kind of book that I'm going to have to read at least five times to get the majority of the meaning, but nonetheless I've had some wonderful insights even on my first read.

The author doesn't really touch on the concept of perfection, considering it an ideal which is unattainable. However, he has a lot to say on the matter of quality and doing things well. Here are a couple of my favourite quotes with regards to this:

I notice things about the cabin too, which I point out to Chris. The windows are all double-hung and sash-weighted, The doors click shut without looseness. All the moldings are perfectly mitered. There's nothing arty about all this, it's just well done and, something tells me, is all done by one person.

He saw that when Quality is kept undefined by definition, the entire field called esthetics is wiped out.. completely disenfranchised... kaput. By refusing to define Quality he had placed it entirely outside the analytic process. If you can't define Quality, there's no way you can subordinate it to any intellectual rule. The estheticians can have nothing more to say. Their whole field, definition of Quality, is gone.

The thought of this completely thrilled him. It was like discovering a cancer cure. No more explanations of what art is. No more wonderful critical schools of experts to determine rationally where each composer had succeeded or failed. All of them, every last one of those know-it-alls, would finally have to shut up. This was no longer just an interesting idea. This was a dream.

I'm very tired, and consequently not very erudite. But it seems to me that even the author struggled (or didn't want to) define quality. But to me, it represents a freedom from the pursuit of perfection. Perfection is an impossible ideal that is constantly moving the goal posts in elusion of its pursuant. To do something well, with quality, is achievable by every person on this planet. Knowing that you have done something with care, consideration and to the best of your ability is the fulfillment of the pursuit.

By the way, Sue, I owe you a copy of this book. I've written all over it :)

Fragmented musings on the Nazis...

2010-01-17T01:54:00.004Z

At the moment, I'm reading The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Not something I would've chosen, ordinarily, but I've joined a book club and that's what they're going to be discussing at the next meeting. I'm glad, because it's fantastic. It describes life in Nazi Germany from the point of view of a young girl, and is narrated by Death. Certainly different.

I recently spent some time in Austria, a country that suffered considerably at the hands of the Third Reich. There's a lot to see in Vienna that serves to remind you of this. This is a photo of the memorial of the children of Spiegelgrund. Between August 1940 and June 1945, at least 789 handicapped children were murdered at the Spiegelgrund clinic as part of the Third Reich's eugenics program. They were poisoned with high doses of sedatives until they died of pneumonia or other infectious diseases.

This is Otto Wagner-spital, also known as Am Steinhof, the hospital in whose grounds the Spiegelgrund clinic stood. This is the view as you enter the main gates. When I was there, we were approached by a man who obviously had learning disabilities; one of the patients. He sang us a German Christmas carol in exchange for some money for coffee. Am Steinhof is still a psychiatric hospital but, thank God, has clearly adopted a different approach since 1945.

The War Against the "Inferior": On the History of Nazi Medicine in Vienna is a very interesting, if disturbing web site, about the events that took place at Am Steinhof and in Vienna as a whole during these times.

Photo journal

2010-01-10T21:40:00.006Z

I'm going to post more about my goals for 2010, but one of them is to keep a photo journal. I'm going to try to take a photo every day, although today didn't happen as I stayed in bed until 4pm. Anyway, here's yesterday...

Me and Marc braved the arctic weather to go bowling. Marc was unenthusiastic.

I then showed Marc how it's done on Guitar Hero.

Resolutions, of a sort

2010-01-09T05:42:00.004Z

I really don't like making resolutions at New Year, generally because I've broken them all by January 9th (at the very latest) and then they just become another reason to feel crap about yourself. Another thing is that they always seem to be "Stuff I should do but don't really want to". I'm not psyched about losing weight or stopping smoking. In fact, new for 2010, I actually started smoking.

I discovered 43 Things last year, when I basically wrote down everything that came into my head for fifteen minutes, no matter how bizarre. I think I achieved about 11 things out of 100, which isn't bad considering some of the things on the list were downright loony. Here are the goals I achieved in 2009, admittedly some of them are a bit banal!

Have a tattoo - A rainbow, with the words "God has promised" underneath, done by the lovely Yvo in Anaheim, CA in January.
Start a scrapbook - That's just what happened. I started it. I did not continue. Oh well :)
Start recycling
Get a plant - I now have two. Talk about exceeding expectations.
Start an online journal - You're on it!
Watch a rugby match - Did this is May and enjoyed it so much I'm now a season ticket holder.
Get a new job - Became a Housing Options Officer in June. Woohoo!
Go on a retreat - The Gay Christian Network's European retreat in July
Have a piercing - I had another piercing done at the top of my ear at my sister's birthday party in May. Unfortunately I changed the ring in December and it went manky so I had to take it out.
Photograph more
Go to Peterborough more - This is not some weird affinity with the city of Peterborough, but the fact that my cousins live there and up until about October, I seriously didn't see enough of them.

This post was actually going to be about what I want to do in 2010, but it's long enough already so I'll save that for next time.

Happy 2010 everyone - live your dreams!

I'm back...!

2009-12-24T00:55:00.003Z

Actually, I've been back for the last 48hrs or so - and what a 48hrs it has been!

First, due to EasyJet being arseholes and cancelling flights out of Vienna/into Gatwick long after every other airline had started flying again, I had to spend £150 on another flight home just to be sure that I would actually be home before Christmas.

If they'd cancelled the flight I was meant to be on, I would've got a refund, but they didn't, they just took off ridiculously late. Meaning I would've missed my coach home, so it's better that I did take another flight.

Then this morning I got up early to go for therapy, got in my car and found that it wouldn't start. Fucking wonderful. I did what anyone would do in the circumstances and went back to bed.

Upon awakening at 4pm, I discovered that the freezer had stopped working and therefore I had to cook everything that couldn't survive once defrosted. I ended up inviting my family over to help eat everything (and also jump start my car!)

I've spent the last four hours trying to put my holiday photos onto a CD so that they can be played on a DVD player. I've done this many times before but for some reason, my laptop didn't want to do it AT ALL, and my parents' computer only wanted to do it for the first 99 photos.

Ho ho holy fuck, is it over yet?!

The inevitable post about this place where I once worked.

2009-12-05T14:39:00.003Z

So, Borders is closing. The news broke about a week ago, and all of a sudden Facebook was full of status updates from career booksellers expressing something akin to mourning. I wondered whether perhaps I should be similarly affected by this apparent tragedy. But at the end of the day, it was a place where I worked. They paid me very little and although I met some great people, I also met some awful ones. No, I decided. I'm not bothered.

A couple of days later, I went to the closing down sale at the store I used to work at. It was horrendous. Borders used to be a classy place to shop; mostly tidy, with good music and interesting books that you wouldn't find in Waterstone's (or, shock horror, WH Smith). What I walked into on Monday was a shambles. It was like TK MAXX on a bad day. Shudder. The worst thing were the tacky posters hung all over the shop saying "Closing down sale!!!! Everything must go!!!!" Too many exclamation marks and clashing colours for my liking.

There were books everywhere. There was a particularly hideous display of Barbie dolls (since when did Borders even sell these?). I came to the conclusion that Borders had given up. Booksellers were no longer being instructed to "merch", "flush" or "alphabetise" and this was the result. However, it started to become apparent that something more sinister was afoot. Borders was actually trying to be crap. The music had been changed - it was no longer classy and browsing friendly but instead much louder and far more annoying. The original section headers, that used to say "Fiction" or "Philosophy" or "Sport" in Borders-esque lettering had been removed and replaced with paper signs stuck up with blu-tack. What possible reason could they have for doing this!? It's hardly like they rented the damn things.

The slightly sad part was that the store was far more full than I had ever seen it before. It was like watching the place being looted, like mourners after a funeral who have been invited to "take what they like" from the deceased's house and do, even though they never really liked the person and certainly wouldn't have sent them a Christmas card.

I walked away shaking my head, and went to Sainsbury's.

The Way of the Peaceful Warrior, by Dan Millman

2009-11-29T10:36:00.006Z

I've just finished reading this and I found it wonderfully refreshing. I made some notes while I was reading it, so I thought I'd share a few of the things that jumped out at me...

Even when you get exactly what you want, you still suffer because you can't hold onto it forever. Your mind is your predicament.

Stress happens when the mind resists what it is.

Everything is a lesson. Trust your life.

It is better for you to take responsibility for your life as it is, instead of blaming others, or circumstances, for your predicament. As your eyes open, you'll see that your state of health, happiness and every circumstance of your life has been, in large part, arranged by you - consciously or unconsciously.

Anger is stronger than fear, stronger than sorrow.

Feelings change. Sometimes sorrow, sometimes joy. But beneath it all remember the innate perfection of your life unfolding. That is the secret of unreasonable happiness.

You are rich if you have enough money to satisfy all your desires. So there are two ways to be rich: You earn, inherit, borrow, beg or steal enough money to meet all your desires; or, you cultivate a simple lifestyle of few desires; that way you always have enough money.

Old urges continue to arise, but urges do not matter; only actions do.

Once you make your choice, do it with all your spirit.

Fear and sorrow inhibit action; anger generates it. When you learn to make proper use of your anger, you can change fear and sorrow to anger, then turn anger to action.

Meditation consists of two simultaneous processes: One is insight - paying attention to what is arising. The other is surrender - letting go of attachment to arising thoughts. That is how you cut free of the mind.

You don't have to do anything except to stop seeing the world from the viewpoint of your own personal cravings.

Just as there are different interpretations of the past and many ways to change the present, there are any number of possible futures.

2009-11-28T22:12:00.002Z

Today started off with my sister making me a bacon sandwich and bringing it to me in bed, which I personally think is a cracking way to start off a Saturday.

Then I met up with my cousins to go and watch the Leicester Tigers match. This was where things went a bit awry. We got into a discussion about how employers recruit people, and the opinion of my cousins was that people with mental health problems are 'damaged goods' who are a 'risk' to employ.

Hmm.

I'm not going to say any more about my cousins, because despite their faults, I do like them and clearly they have never experienced mental illness. But it does leave me feeling like screaming at how, even as the first decade of the 21st century is drawing to a close, there is still so much stigma and misunderstanding surrounding mental illness.

An average of 800,000 people commit suicide every year. Depression isn't a character flaw, it's a fully blown illness that takes lives.

I don't know how much more we can say to get people to understand. Because despite the endless campaigns by mental health charities and celebrity supporters, people seem still so ignorant. Depression means you wake up and something inside you has died. You are no more able to function normally than you'd be able to if someone had removed your kidneys during the night. It is one of the more difficult illnesses to treat because pharmaceutical accuracy is well, inaccurate. There is no predictability about how a mentally ill person might respond to treatment, pharmaceutical or otherwise.

Many people with mental illnesses are seen as being a burden on the state. Perhaps if more employers were willing to take the time to understand and support their mentally ill employee, this problem would all but disappear.

2009-11-26T19:36:00.003Z

How time flies when you're panicking about Christmas! I fly off to Austria in less than three weeks, to return on Christmas Eve. Then it's off to my folks for Christmas Day, a few days of pretending to be a civil servant and then off to my cousins' for New Year. Before we know it Easter will be upon us and I'll have broken at least 50% of my New Year's resolutions.

2009-11-17T21:41:00.002Z

Today has mostly seen my sitting at my desk with my hair tied up with an elastic band like a crazy person. Shouting such as things as, "OH MY GOD, I can't find..." and then seconds later, "Oh wait, I've got it". Rinse and repeat.

Tomorrow I have my probationary interview with my line manager, to see whether they still actually want to employ me. And then next week I have an interview to see whether they want to promote me. Something in that strikes me as slightly illogical, but I shouldn't expect anything else from local government.

Nobody's bid on those handbags yet :)

2009-11-16T22:50:00.004Z

Things that are running through my brain today (not necessarily in order of importance):

My job - which I really fucking enjoy despite the fact that it means I work for The Man ;) I have a interview coming up for a promotion (haven't got a clue when) which I've been playing cool about, but actually really want. And not just for the money either. I want the self-importance too :)

Designer handbags - Ciccia, specifically. If I get promoted, I'm buying a handbag. If I don't, I'm still buying a handbag. The only difference will be in which piece of plastic it gets purchased on.

Friday - I get to leave Leicester for the whole weekend and spend quality time with Good People, drinking good wine. Yessir, I'll work a 60hr week if it means I can leave at 4pm on Friday.

I think I might be having a manic phase. LOVING IT. Fireproof :)

2009-11-15T00:29:00.005Z

My bathroom is dismal. I was moaning about it to my mum while I was on the phone with her tonight, and to my surprise she seemed quite enthused about helping me do something about it.

My only stipulation is that we are absolutely NOT, under any circumstances, repainting. I hate painting so much. I need to get some gloss and touch up part of the skirting board, but otherwise it can stay as it is.

The walls are cream/coffee coloured and the skirting boards are chocolate brown, so that pretty much means the colour scheme is brown/red/orange etc.

I've just found this shower curtain on eBay that I'm going to buy. I've spent too much time already Googling "shower curtains" and the majority are blue in colour scheme, so having found this, I'm going for it ;) Me and mother are off shopping on Wednesday night to get some more bits, and at some point we're relaying the linoleum on the floor. THAT should be interesting!

2009-11-13T18:40:00.001Z

Ciccia handbags are my new love. They are just the most beautiful things ever. Created by the designer who used to work for Radley. Boasts a similar price tag. I'm currently watching six on eBay, all of which I can't really afford but really NEED!

Impairment Related Sick Leave (IRSL)

2009-11-11T22:09:00.005Z

The idea of IRSL is part of the Disability Discrimination Act (DDA). The DDA states that employers must make "reasonable adjustments" to allow a disabled employee the same rights as a non-disabled employee. So IRSL is considered to be one of those reasonable adjustments, the idea being that a disabled employee shouldn't be penalised under the sickness absence policy because of their disability. IRSL means that absence due to disability (or impairment) is counted differently to regular sickness.

So that's the idea, in an ideal world, i.e. the one that most trade unions live in. I have always viewed it as the kind of thing that companies have to adopt in principle, but in practice will get you out the fucking door so fast you can barely say "P45". (For my American friends, that's the tax document you're given when you leave a job).

The thing is, if the time I'm off sick for mental health reasons was counted differently to regular sickness, I'd be a model employee. It'd be like getting a golden ticket! I'd pushed it to the back of my brain, though, because I just didn't think I had a chance in hell of actually getting IRSL. However, I was talking to a colleague yesterday who's been with the city council for a number of years. She said that they do actually recognise IRSL and that she had been allowed it herself.

This has made me quietly hopeful. I have an appointment with occupational health in the near future, which my colleague actually said should be a good thing, because they would be able to recommend me for IRSL. I downloaded the city council's IRSL policy from the intranet and that seemed promising too. However, a quick Google search brought up a thread of mostly negative experiences that people had had with getting IRSL, including those employed within the civil service. That made me kind of less hopeful.

The bottom line is this: I have missed out, time and time again, on the things that should've been mine, and I've missed out because of my mental illness. I don't for one minute want this to sound like I feel like the world owes me something; rather I feel that I would've achieved so much more if I'd never been ill. I never made it to university and I've never progressed far within employment. If my mental health sickness was counted separately, it would be ABSOLUTE FUCKING FREEDOM.

Oh my God, I hardly dare hope, but it would be just fantastic.

2009-11-10T18:36:00.001Z

The swine has arrived.

2009-11-09T18:53:00.004Z

I am ill :( It started off with what seemed like dodgy asthma, and then has progressed. Now my limbs hurt and I'm getting that horrible feeling when you turn your head and the rest of you catches up a couple of seconds later.

All sick days have been exhausted (rather like me) so after a bijou meal of macaroni cheese (out of a tin of course), I am retiring to bed with a lot of medicine.

If anyone wants housing advice tomorrow, they probably shouldn't call me!

2009-11-07T12:53:00.002Z

This is wonderful Sue's cat, Sasha, relaxing in front of the fire after one hell of a week (for Sasha *and* Sue!)

2009-11-07T12:38:00.006Z

Yesterday I was doing a quick tidy up of the interview rooms at work. This is where we do more in-depth interviews with clients who are homeless, or at risk of homelessness. I noticed something written on the wall, and looking closer saw that someone had written,

"A little help wouldn't go amiss".

Fucking brilliant! We, as a local authority, are obviously doing our jobs well.

2009-11-04T23:43:00.004Z

Time is limited tonight because I have spent a wonderful evening with wonderful Sue. Still, I wanted to make a mention of TWLOHA because I am inspired and empowered by their vision.

To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

The vision is that we actually believe these things…

You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters.

You need to know that rescue is possible, that freedom is possible, that God is still in the business of redemption.

Tomorrow, I intend to have a friendly yet informative conversation with my line manager about self-injury. What it is and what it definitely isn't. Education needs to happen, stigma needs to be eradicated.

2009-11-02T21:23:00.006Z

The last week or so, my head has been full of random musings, rather than anything that could be developed into even a full-blown thought, let alone an entire post. Consequently, this blog has been cast adrift, floating, like the Marie Celeste of the interweb.

Or summat like that, anyway.

My boss is referring me to Occupational Health. It's his way of trying to help, but I had a tantrum and told him there were enough fucking "professionals" in my life. I may not have actually said "fuck", but I'm saying it here 'cause this is my blog and I want to. Fuck. Off. Anyway, with any luck I'll be able to pull myself together by then and convince them that I'm completely normal.

As I was getting out of the car tonight, I saw the moon through the trees and thought, "That looks nice, I must take a photo". I did. It came out terribly.

I hate it slightly less than I did before I cropped it, but only slightly. With the flash, the trees just looked too, well, bright, and without the flash there was nothing to actually see...

Creativity

2009-10-25T01:16:00.006+01:00

So, I am trying to be more creative. It's something that I always really want to do, but I end up giving up because I'm not meeting some crazy perfectionist ideal that I've created for myself.

Anyway, last week my wonderful friend Sue said that I should start a blog, and when I informed her that I did actually have one, she suggested that maybe I should actually, like, write on it. That's deep stuff.

So anyone who actually reads this might've noticed some increased activity lately. What can I say, I'll try to keep it up. Just blame the perfectionist demons if it doesn't happen.

In addition to imparting me with this deep wisdom, wonderful Sue did another thing that was just wonderful. It's why she's called wonderful Sue, in fact. She gave me not one, but TWO notebooks! I'm willing to bet that there are few people in this world who get as excited about notebooks as me and wonderful Sue. They pretty much made my day. "One is for your writing, and one is for your drawing," says wonderful Sue. (She's pretty wonderful!) I'll admit now, the drawing one hasn't really gotten off the ground yet. I'm very much enjoying the writing one. It's now filling up thick and fast with scribbles unintelligible to most. Including, sometimes, me. It's definitely getting the ideas flowing, although the downside of this is that I'm awake at 1.30am with a head full of ideas!

The other thing I've started doing is carrying my camera with me wherever I go. (Thank God I'm not one of those lesbians that won't carry a handbag). I'm starting to see photographic inspiration everywhere, most notably in a lot of flowers (so far, at least!) Some have noted that maybe I have a future at Hallmark. I'll freely admit that it's not the most inspired subject, but I'm enjoying myself, so bugger inspiration! In fact, enjoying myself so much that I have actually taken a deep breath and attempted to make sense of Paint Shop Pro, which for some reason I have on my laptop. (I'm pretty sure I didn't buy it, but I'm not complaining).

It started off with me doing some basic photo editing on Picnik, which is a fantastic resource if you haven't got a clue what the hell you're doing. I haven't.

One photo that I'm particularly proud of is this shot of Calvary at Mount St. Bernard Abbey.

I did entertain the idea of trying to edit it on Paint Shop Pro, but I'm still completely clueless so Picnik did the trick just nicely.

It's fantastic, but it's a pain in the arse to have to keep uploading everything you need to use. (I think if you subscribe to the Pro version this probably isn't such an issue). However, I'm definitely going to be asking Santa for "Paint Shop Pro for Dummies" this year.

Oh, by the way, did I mention that Sue's wonderful?

2009-10-20T15:10:00.003+01:00

This isn't the most imaginative blog post, but I'm in this video (for about a microsecond!) Can you find me?

EDIT: I've just noticed that I'm in the video twice - that's right, two separate microseconds of coverage! And I'm wearing the same bloody jumper both times. And it's the same jumper as I'm wearing in my blog profile pic. Time to throw it away, I think!

2009-10-18T00:09:00.003+01:00

Recently, I've started to enjoy listening to audiobooks on my iPod as I'm going to sleep. Some might say this amounts to me still wanting a bedtime story at the age of 22. I would concur, but also add that I retain my coolness by listening to them on an iPod...

Anyway, I started off with Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I got to the part where Hagrid meets the new Hogwarts students off the Hogwarts Express and takes them across the lake to the school. He bangs on the wooden doors to be let in with the students.

It reminded me of something I was told recently about a ritual in Orthodox churches when a catechumenate (student of the faith) was received fully into the church. They would be baptised at night outside the main church, and then led there by the priest, who would bang on the doors and shout, "Let me in, I have the catechumen!"

I liked that story. It had just the right amount of drama and ceremony, in my opinion. I've wondered more than once whether J.K. Rowling had this in mind when she wrote this part of the Philosopher's Stone. So many people have made a huge uproar about the Harry Potter books being demonic because of the magical elements, but I reckon there's a lot in them that mirrors the principles of the Christian tradition too.

I mean, look at how Quirrell (and ultimately Voldemort) couldn't hurt Harry because of how much his mum loved him, and because she died saving him. Jesus, much?

In Loving Memory

2009-10-16T22:55:00.014+01:00

Leonard William Allen
27th April 1920 ~ 15th October 2009

Into the freedom of wind and sunshine
We let you go

Into the dance of the stars and the planets
We let you go

Into the wind's breath and the hands of the star maker
We let you go

We love you, we miss you, we want you to be happy.

Go safely, go dancing, go running home.

2009-09-09T21:46:00.004+01:00

2009-06-04T20:07:00.004+01:00

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world [C.S. Lewis]

It is interesting to me that I am unable to comfort, or even like, my inner child after spending time with my family. My mother reminds me frequently that I was never treated any differently to my sister. I do not accuse her of anything of the sort - there seems to be some defensiveness about me being in therapy.

But if I was never treated any differently, then why is my sister a normal, generally happy seventeen year-old who is doing well at school and has plenty of friends? Why has she not been on anti-depressants since she was fourteen? If my parents never treated us any differently, then I have an inherent problem that she doesn't. And that makes it very difficult to like my "little one", because she is a walking timebomb.

Work Around Your Abyss

2009-05-25T16:21:00.005+01:00

There is a deep hole in your being, like an abyss. You will never succeed in filling that hole, because your needs are inexhaustible. You have to work around it so that gradually the abyss closes.

Since the hole is so enormous and your anguish so deep, you will always be tempted to flee from it. There are two extremes to avoid: being completely absorbed in your pain and being distracted by so many things that you stay far away from the wound you want to heal.

It is worth noting that Nouwen wrote all of these imperatives in a private journal, and therefore was writing to himself alone. I like this because it sounds like he is speaking directly to me, especially as so much of what he writes resonates with my own state of mind.

I am very good at extremes, and very bad at middle ground. To me, there is no point in healthy eating; either don't try or stop eating altogether. It is not so much my decision to think like this, more that this is just how I seem to think. If something's worth doing, it's worth doing to the extreme until you've crushed every last inch of life out of it (and yourself). Ce n'est pas?

So it is with my journey, even the nature of which I find it difficult to describe. A journey to sanity? Not quite so. A journey to self-acceptance? Partly, but more than that. St. Irenaeus of Lyons is quoted as saying, "The glory of God is man fully alive". Now that, that's what I'm aiming for.

But in doing so, two extremes commonly appear. The first, as Nouwen says, is of the wallowing variety. This is one that I slip into easily when having had an in-depth therapy session. I become so wrapped up in the pain and trying to analyse myself that I inevitably crash and burn. I am far better at avoiding this than I used to be, but the danger is still ever-present. There is something inviting, in a macabre kind of way, about "owning" all of this pain for yourself and choosing to shackle together an identity from it.

The other extreme doesn't appear as frequently as it used to either. This extreme would be the Happy Balanced Christian Girl. She takes a lot of energy to keep alive, a lot of chosen ignorance, a lot of false optimism. This girl has nothing wrong with her because she's a child of God. In fact, she might stop taking her anti-depressants too. Even though it might not seem like it, I think this extreme is equally, if not more, dangerous than the first. The mind is a powerful thing and if you can convince yourself you don't need therapy and medication then you're not really onto a winner.

The middle ground... now this is out of my comfort zone. What would be the middle ground here?

I think the first step for me is to acknowledge the support systems I have in place, and acknowledge the reasons why they're there, and the reasons why they need to stay there. These are things that I need to keep going, regardless of how I feel. The main ones for me are therapy, medication and church. This is not to say that going to church is just medicine that I will one day not be in need of. Rather that there are very few times when I truly desire to go to church, and yet I know it does me good.

A second step would be to learn how to switch off from "the search". As of yet, I don't know how to do this. For me, the search is ever ongoing - it is in my therapy sessions, it's in every book I read, it's in conversations with friends. I am unable to switch off from looking, looking, looking, everywhere, for the answer, something that will refresh me and enlighten me. Even in my dreams I am searching, and then when I wake up, I frantically analyse my dreams to see if they hold anything of importance.

I am tired, and desperate for rest from "the search".

2009-05-25T16:10:00.005+01:00

Today, I picked up a book by Henri Nouwen called The Inner Voice of Love. My Dad lent it to me some time ago, and until this morning it has sat unopened on my bookshelf.

Last night was a bad night. (Emergency therapy on Thursday, holding on until then). This morning I woke up feeling disappointed with myself and with my mind screaming insults at me. I have spent the day ignoring the insults; unable to muster the energy to banish them completely, I am simply trying not to listen.

Anyway, back to Nouwen. He wrote the Inner Voice of Love at a time when he was going through a breakdown, and it basically consists of spiritual imperatives that he wrote to himself while he was going through this time. This may sound like another list of "things to do" but isn't. It is, instead, refreshing.

I began thinking that there are worse ways to spend your Bank Holiday Monday than by starting to meditate on Nouwen's imperatives. As always with me, I have no idea how long this new venture will last, but my soul is thirsty and Nouwen speaks as someone who has very much Been There.

Mediation One will begin above.

Fail?

2009-05-24T00:59:00.003+01:00

And I was yesterday. And the day before that. And a few days before that too. How long does can it go on before you can stop blaming it on PMS (pre and post)? Is it that, is it the Microgynon, is it the therapy session?

Thursday was a very dark day. Scarily so. The rest of them haven't been like that, just sad. Just wanting looking after, protecting, cherishing.

My therapist is on holiday this week. At the end of my last session she made me promise to call if I needed to. Oh, I want to. But is it weak? Does it make me "too much" if I plague the poor woman even when she's on holiday? I have a feeling I'll have made the call by the time the Bank Holiday weekend is over.

2009-04-29T12:20:00.003+01:00

Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me,
You know when I sit and when I rise,
You know how I take my tea and how much I enjoy angel cake,
You know how I long to be cared for by another,
You perceive my thoughts from afar.

Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.
You know how much I say "uh huh" since I got back from the States,
You know the travesties I have committed by speech,
You know the things I long to say but never dare to.

You hem me in, behind and before,
You have laid your hand upon me.
You protect me from myself and surround me with yourself instead
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
Too worthy for me to attain.

Where can I go from your spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there,
If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I hide away from you in a bad relationship, you are there,
If I shun you in anger when things don't go my way, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
If I settle on the far side of the sea,
If I cloak myself in pretence and act as if I can survive on my own,
If I run from you because I don't believe you can help me.
Even there your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast.

(With thanks to Psalm 129!)

2009-04-18T17:35:00.004+01:00

I've spent part of today catching up with the goings on over at Queerish, and it got me thinking about how I identify and what "my story" is. Last night I was on the phone with Justin from GCN and he too asked me about "my story". And I was like oh hell, because I don't really have a story. I have a feeling that this post is going to wander, but heck, not all who wander are lost.

I honestly don't remember the first time that I considered that I might be gay. Throughout school, I developed attachments for several teachers, almost exclusively female. But there were some that were male and through therapy I've realised that developing attachments is what I do, so I don't think that was part of the "gay thing".

In 2004 I moved out and lived with a friend from work for about 18 months. It was during this time that I gave more thought to my sexuality and started to identify as a lesbian. I was quite matter of fact about it; came out at work and to my church (not met with the best reception!) and thought "well that's that then". The thing was, something didn't fit. I tried to live the lesbian lifestyle as best I could: had my hair cut, wore mens' clothes and read Diva magazine. It's worth mentioning that I was 17 at the time, but I thought that this was how you had to be if you were a gay woman, and quite frankly, it wasn't me.

About 2 years later, I got deeply involved with a large, charismatic, evangelical church in my city. I loved how present God felt when I was there, and I felt that here I would find my transformation. When I told the leaders that I was gay (or that I thought I might be), they were unconvinced that what I was feeling was real, and believed that they could "pray me straight". To be fair to them, I let them. I wanted to be straight because I didn't fit into the gay community either, so I was all for it. Unsurprisingly, the transformation didn't happen (at least, not in that respect), and disappointed in myself, I left the church.

For the next 10 months or so, I drifted between rejecting Christianity altogether in favour of living the gay life, to rejecting my sexuality as a sin and a abhorration before God. During this time, I discovered the Gay Christian Network. I explored the site with some reserve, as I "wasn't gay anyway" so there was no point in me looking at it. I did join in the early days of this drifting, but I would leave and go back depending on where I was with the whole debate. I used to feel guilty for looking at it. I felt like anyone who claimed to be a gay Christian must have a very vague theology.

Finally, around Christmastime of 2007, something seemed to break through. Again, I don't remember a particular "aha" moment or anything like that. But I had gone back to GCN and gradually, God began to unite my faith and my sexuality. I became more and more involved with the community there and was shown love, acceptance and understanding that I had never experienced in such an unconditional way before.

In January of this year, I flew out to California for the GCN Annual Conference. It was an amazing experience, deserving of a post of its own. But while I was out there, I had this tattoo in honour of the work God has done and is doing in me to reconcile my sexuality and my relationship with Him.

Lord of my soul!

2009-04-12T23:55:00.004+01:00

I was baptised on Easter Sunday in 2003. I thought it would be good to share parts of the testimony I wrote the day I experienced God for the first time...

... Towards the end of the talk, he said that we were going to pray for the Lord to give us compassion. We closed our eyes, and prayed, and all the while, he was speaking, praising the Lord, and asking him to fill us with compassion. People from the church were walking around and laying their hands on people, and praying for them individually. John came to me and laid his hand on my head and prayed to the Lord for me, and as he was doing that, I was filled with the most amazing feeling – the Lord was filling me with the Holy Spirit. John then laid his hand on my shoulder and said "More Lord, more Lord. Thank you Jesus." It was the most wonderful feeling ...

... Edward asked me what it felt like. I said that it was like I was able to see everything clearly again and that I was no longer alone. Edward asked me whether I had ever asked the Holy Spirit to come into my life, and I said that I had prayed and told Him that I wanted to become a Christian and that I wanted to love Jesus. I said that I understood that Jesus was the Son of God and, had died for me ...

... Louise, in talking to Lindsey, put it into words perfectly: "We both had encounters with the Holy Spirit" ...

... Then Lindsey hugged me, and I held onto her for what seemed like a lifetime. I told her why I was crying and she said that I had so many friends at the church that loved me so much. She said that I had a lot of love in my heart and that I wanted to share it with other people. She said that He has got so many things planned for me ...

... She also said that it was no coincidence that I was here today – God had meant it to happen like this ...

... I realised that, out of the year that I had been coming to church, I had never felt before how I had felt that morning ...

2009-04-01T16:14:00.004+01:00

If I have to take time off work because I'm sick, I struggle tremendously with guilt. In fact, most of the time I make myself worse because I'm worrying so much about what my boss/co-workers think of me, whether I'm going to lose pay, whether I'm going to be disciplined... The list goes on.

At the minute, my sickness record isn't brilliant - I think it's something like fifteen days in the last year. And I spend a ridiculous amount of time beating myself up about it. Comparing myself to people who drag themselves into work half-dead, who haven't had a sick day ever.

I've realised though, that I'm not really being fair to myself. A lot of those sick days are because of my depression, which is very real and very disabling. If I had something like M.E., or another chronic illness, I'd look back and think, "Fifteen days in twelve months isn't doing too bad". After all, I'm sick, right?

2009 ushers in my 8th year of chronic mental illness. And after all those years, I'm finally ready to admit to that, because I am ill. Not always to the same degree, never in a way that is dangerous to others and certainly not in a way that means I am somehow due less in life. But in a way which means I do get sick more often than most people, and that unfortunately means sick days. But it doesn't mean "person of less value".

There's a couple of things that this realisation is not. It's not a license to take time off work whenever I feel like it, or to use my illness as an excuse. Neither is it an admission of "giving up". I work hard to improve my mental health and I believe that this is one step forward.

I'm simply sick of pretending it's not there in the hope of it going away - it doesn't. It just adds to the guilt - because why I am feeling like this if I'm not sick?

The One Where I Quit My Job

2009-03-29T17:02:00.003+01:00

I had already moved back in with my parents and I was working in a crappy job that I hated, and that I hated myself for staying at. I hated the people I worked with, I hated the situation I'd got myself in, and I hated that I couldn't see any way out. My parents gave me a lift into work as usual, and as we were driving into the city I felt wrong, somehow. Or right. I felt like something had to happen that day, something had to change. I texted a colleague, the only guy I really liked there. I can't remember what I said but I think it might've been "I think I'm going to die today". All hail the queen of self-inflicted drama.

I got to work and had a couple of hours alone on the shop floor to shelve books before the store opened. My boss was the only other person there and he was upstairs in the office. It was stupidly early in the morning, probably about 7.30am, but I decided to call my psychiatrist's office. I can remember it vividly; I was in the fiction section, letters M through S, crouched down in the corner (in case my boss came downstairs) with my itsy bitsy pink mobile phone.

I knew that my psychiatrist wouldn't be in until 9. In fact, he wasn't even my psychiatrist any more. I'd been seeing him for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, so I got 10 weeks and then was sent on my merry way. But he was the only person I could think of to call. Another psychiatrist answered the phone and told me what I already knew: Dr W wouldn't be in for another couple of hours. He must've sensed the tone in my voice because he said, "You know what to do if you're in crisis?" He promised to get Dr W to call me back.

I seem to remember that not much time passed before Dr W did call me back; he must've been in early. He told me that he could see me that morning if I could get off work. The previous few months hadn't held the best work attendance for me, because I was seeing Dr W and because I was sick a lot. But I had to see him that day; I had to do something to make my life better. So I went to my boss and I told him that I had to see my psychiatrist. It was pretty much the last straw for him. To be honest, we'd never gotten on particularly well anyway, but to be fair to him, I was probably the shittiest employee he'd had for a while. To be fair to me, I was ill. There, we've been fair to everyone now.

I'd never even told him that I was seeing Dr W. Every time that I had to get off work to see him, I told my boss I was going to the hospital and left it at that. So that morning when I dumped on him that I had to see my psychiatrist, I think he was a bit thrown. He took me into his office and gave me a telling off, although it wasn't really that bad. But it was too much for me to take and I told him I was quitting. He said he wanted a week's notice and I told him he could have it but I was taking it as sick. Then I went and emptied my locker.

By this point I was sobbing to the point at which I could hardly breathe. I made my way downstairs onto the shop floor and there was Pearl, the cleaner. I'd always liked her, and she came straight over to me and asked me what was wrong. I told her I was leaving, and because my boss was there neither of us said any more than that. She hugged me and I left.

2009-03-27T22:02:00.003Z

Over the past week or so, I have been trying to allow myself to be creative again. I struggle horribly with trying to be perfect and when I realised that in making music and painting I couldn't be, I pushed creativity out of my life.

When I was in high school I was never happier than when my handbag was full of paintbrushes, although music has always been my gift, my true north. I've played the flute from the age of 7, been in numerous orchestras, taken the exams, did A-level music. I can sing and play other instruments like the clarinet and the piano, but I've always been best at playing the flute.

A couple of weeks ago, I went out and bought a sketch pad and some pencil crayons. So far, they've sat on my desk unopened; I just can't bring myself to take the plunge. I'm doing better with the music. I got my flute out for the first time in probably four years, and really enjoyed looking through all my old music. For the first few days I drove myself nuts trying to get it perfect.

I'm just about - just about - able to accept now that music doesn't have to be perfect. It actually makes me crazy to say that because I so want everything to be perfect. But I really hope that actually this might be a step towards me letting that go. And who knows, maybe by the end of the weekend, I'll have cracked open the sketch pad.

Then Joseph said to them... "Tell me your dreams".

2009-03-21T12:50:00.003Z

I dream a hell of a lot. And remember them too. I know some people who put great trust in dream interpretation, and some that think it's absolute rubbish. I tend to believe that our dreams are frequently indicative of what's going on for us (or at least mine are) but I've never looked into interpretation in much depth. I don't really think that the dream dictionaries you can find in most book shops are of much use. In the store I used to work in, you'd generally find them in the bargain bin, being sold off for like £1.50. Enough said.

Anyway, for the first time in my life (that I can remember) I've been having recurring dreams. Recurring in the sense that the theme is the same, if not the details. Basically, in these dreams, I'm late for something, and I'm trying desperately to rush to get there but as hard as I try, I just get later and later. This started off as being late for work, then included being late for therapy, and most recently included being late for meeting my Dad. A friend looked up lateness for me in a book of hers (yes, I know, I'm a hypocrite, but it couldn't do any harm!) and this is what it said:

Being aware of being late in a dream suggests that we are not totally in control of situations around us. Psychologically such a dream represents the search for perfection and the feeling that we have, or maybe will let someone down.

Last night I had dreamed that I was trying to escape and I couldn't move. My legs were just heavy and moving at a fraction of their usual speed. This relates closely to the lateness dreams because often in those I would find that I couldn't move as quickly as I wanted to.

I've decided that I want to look more closely at my dreams. It appears that it's not really my therapist's thing, which is fine because she's awesome anyway and there's plenty else for us to talk about! But I do think they're worth looking at because what it said in my friend's book did seem to hold some significance to what I've been working on in therapy recently. I think that there's a valuable resource to be tapped here. And I spend enough time asleep - I might as well be making use of it!

2009-03-05T16:16:00.002Z

I went to my doctor today. It's pretty much a monthly ritual because some of my medication I can't get on repeat prescription. The last few months, part of the ritual has also been for me to beg him to increase my anti-depressants or put me on something else, and every month he says my anti-depressants can't go any higher than I'm currently taking and it'd be too dangerous for him to change them. Today was pretty much the same and this time he said that he would refer me to a psychiatrist that would be able to change my medication. I'm not really sure how I feel about this. Practically, I know that it's far safer for a psychiatrist to be in charge of my medication, but for me it triggers a fear that I'm moving in the wrong direction. I'm supposed to be getting better now, not being referred to *more* mental health professionals.

I last saw my therapist on Tuesday evening. I've been seeing her since just before Christmas, and I really like her. I think she's really helping too, because things are moving in a different direction than before, so I don't feel like I'm just going over the same stuff that never solved anything the last time. She thinks that we're starting to get somewhere, and that I'm feeling awful because of all the stuff that's coming to the surface at the moment. That makes sense to me, even if it doesn't make me feel better! She said it does make me high-risk though. We had a pretty dark conversation on Tuesday night, and she asked me to provide emergency contact numbers in case she couldn't reach me. She also made me promise to call her if I needed to.

My hope is that she's right, and the misery of the present will be replaced by something far better, once we've worked through stuff. A friend of mine said that it's probably not coincidence that God's led me back to church at this particular time. And that actually, having someone who is skilled in prescribing anti-depressants might mean that I am given something that suits me much better.

My fear is that this is all cyclical, and that I'm never going to be fully free of its shadow. That thought scares me more than anything else, because you can endure a lot if you're certain it'll end, but the thought of spending my whole life with this as my "lot" makes me despair. I *want* to believe my therapist, I really do. I wish I could somehow trick my mind into believing even though I'm not sure of it. I feel like my mind is almost unbearably heavy at times. It's almost a physical sensation, it's so real.

I want to end this on a hopeful note. In the words of Missy Higgins:

This is the day that everything changes
And your worlds collide
You know in time you'll wake to find you're...
A little unbroken.

2009-03-02T16:04:00.001Z

I've always loved this poem, and I used to have it memorised and recite it back to myself when I got overwhelmed. I just think it *really* applies to my life right now!

"If" by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Blessings!

2009-03-01T23:04:00.004Z

So today, I went back to my old church. I had an early night and was up before my alarm! While I was eating breakfast, I suddenly started having awful thoughts like the pastors might just ask me to leave or something. The imagination is cruel sometimes. I spent some time praying and writing in my journal and then I couldn't take it any more so I just went and drove slowly :)

As soon as I walked in the building, Pastor Mary saw me, came over and hugged me. She told me my hair looked beautiful and asked how I was doing and about work, etc. I said to her, "I'm so glad you're not cross with me" and she said, "Oh no, darling, it's your life". She hugged me again and then went.

I sat on my own during the service but I liked that, and a couple of people came over and introduced themselves to me (thinking it was my first time). In the middle of the service, they have a short time where everyone goes around and talks to each other, and during that time a guy called Everil came over to speak to me. He'd actually spoken to me the first evening I ever went there and I'd really liked him then. He encouraged me to go back to my cell group. That's something I want to wait a while before thinking about, but it was nice that he was interested in me.

I just loved being there and being back in that atmosphere again. I loved the exuberant worship, the speaking in tongues, the readiness to pray for people. I loved seeing Mary and being welcomed back without question. I wish I could show you a picture of her because she is *the* coolest pastor in the world, with her funky glasses and jewellery and clothes.

While I was there, I just kept thinking "I want to be a part of all this. I want to be a part of this family". My problem is that I want it *now*. (I've never really grown up in a lot of ways!) I get stroppy because I'm not as favoured as some people, or whatever, but I forget that those people have been part of the church for years. So right now I'm trying hard to remember that this is the beginning of my journey at this church, that taking it slowly isn't a bad thing in any kind of relationship.

Lord, please take my anxieties from me. I'm unable to manage them myself.

Hungry for love

2009-02-28T17:06:00.003Z

For a while now, I've been considering going back to my old church. Probably since the GCN conference, at least. Trouble is, every time I decide I'm going to go back, I've changed my mind by the time it gets to Sunday. A bit of background...

I had been churchless for over a year because I'd left my previous church in October(ish) of 2006. (Mostly to do with the gay issue, but looking back I realise there were other reasons I was unhappy and although it might not have been for the right reasons, I think that leaving was the right thing to do). So I'd been looking for a church (sometimes more energetically than others!) when in March(ish) of 2008 I visitied a church that had been recommended to me by a friend, but that I'd ironically neglected to visit because I thought it didn't sound like my kind of thing! (I don't consider myself to be any particular denomination but I like lively, Spirit-filled churches). This one was Pentecostal and I just loved it and stayed.

A month later, I met the woman who was to become my (now ex-) girlfriend. Early on I told one of the pastors of my church that I was gay, because I really liked it there and I wanted to get the revelationary bit over and done with so I could settle down properly. Mary (for that was her name!) was, from memory, very loving, and said that I was welcome there, although she said that she didn't believe it was OK. I was nonetheless immensely grateful for her love and acceptance, and felt that it was still the right place for me to be.

Over the next few months I developed a close relationship with Mary, and felt blessed by being part of the church. I truly believe I experienced God there, and it felt like home. At the same time, I was going through utter *shit* in my new relationship. It was complicated, let's just say that, and I did a lot wrong. Throughout, I was trying to desperately justify what we were doing before God and basically wanted telling that what we were doing was OK, even though everything inside me told me it wasn't. It was in this immensely healthy mindset that I went to Mary and told her I was sleeping with my girlfriend. (Incidentally, this wasn't the thing I was feeling most guilty about - there was more). I guess that somehow I needed to hear from her that this was OK, and no-one will be surprised to know that this *isn't* what she said! Again, from memory, I still remember her being very loving but telling me that I knew from the start that she would only ever speak the Word of God to me.

From what I remember, I walked away from this encounter with Mary thinking that she was bloody right and I needed to clean up my act. It really didn't cross my mind to leave my church because in my thinking, it wasn't even the issue of me being gay that mattered to her at that point - she would've said the same thing if I'd told her I was sleeping with a boyfriend. That afternoon, my girlfriend came over and I told her about what'd happened. Me and Mary had also spoken that morning about me changing to a different cell group (which I wanted but she was opposed to) and I think that'd put my nose out of joint a bit, rather than anything else that'd happened. Anyway, in the conversation with my girlfriend, she suggested that maybe I needed to leave and I ended up agreeing. It wasn't like she made it happen, but somewhere in the conversation I moved from a position of humility to a "how dare she criticise me?" point of view. Always good, eh?

So basically, I never went back. And since then, I have succeeded in finding a church that's OK with the gay part, but I never felt the presence of God again like I had at that church. I think back and I remember telling Mary about my mental illness, about my self-harm, and her telling me that the church would look after me, and I needed to let them. I remember her anointing me with oil and kissing me. I remember going to the New Wine summer conference and her being there, her hugging me when I crashed my car whilst there...

Part of me feels guilty in the eyes of gay Christians for choosing to go to a church that openly doesn't accept my gayness. But I hunger for the presence of God, and I know that I found it there. I know that I found love from Mary even though I knew she didn't agree with homosexuality. And I know that if I truly believed God wanted me to give up women (oy!) then I would. I just don't believe He does. But I need His presence more than I need acceptance. I have the acceptance of hundreds of Christians on GCN, of my friends, of my family, of God!

Is it treachery to return?

Well that's not me!

2009-02-26T12:34:00.003Z

While I was at the GCN conference, a speaker called Evelyn Schave came to speak to us on the last morning. (She was awesome - I can't even begin to describe her). Part of her address spoke about the passages in Scripture that are traditionally used to condemn homosexuality, and that if we actually looked at what was being described in those passages, we wouldn't see ourselves. Heck, I can't even begin to describe her but my friend Nate's got a good description of that day here.

With that in mind, we continue. Last night, I was reading the passage in Genesis 19 about the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. There are two angels staying at Lot's house, when this occurs:

Now before they lay down, the men of the city, the men of Sodom, both old and young, all the people from every quarter, surrounded the house. And they called to Lot and said to him, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us that we may know them carnally.”

Well, I mean - I've never done *that*! The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah has long since been linked to their homosexual immorality. This passage is part of the canon of "clobber passages" that are used against homosexuals by their own churches. People defending the cause might say that Sodom's sin was inhospitality. (That always makes me laugh, like they maybe didn't offer the angels cake and a cup of tea...!) I say look again. Seems to me that Sodom's sin was that her people turned up at the house of an important member of their city (Lot), in force, surrounded the house and demanded sex with its visitors.

I, and most gay people I know, have never done this!

I mean, saying that Sodom's sin is homosexuality is about the same as labelling all teenage boys as murderers on the basis of Columbine. Look at what was actually going on here - it wasn't normal homosexual behaviour that we see in everyday people today. Those people in your churches who are gay - how many of us fit into that description? Of the gay Christians that I have met, every one of them is gentle, loving and God-centred. The tragedy is that through the misinterpretation of passages such of these, we are made to think that we are depraved human beings such as the ones that brought about Sodom's demise.

Instead, we need to be told just like our brothers and sisters in faith, that we are beautiful, valuable human beings, perfectly created and adored by our Father, the Living God.

Who gets blessed?

2009-02-22T22:33:00.004Z

The story of Cain and Abel is well known. The first murder. "Am I my brother's keeper?"

Now Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived and bore Cain, and said, “I have acquired a man from the LORD.” Then she bore again, this time his brother Abel.

Now Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground. And in the process of time it came to pass that Cain brought an offering of the fruit of the ground to the LORD. Abel also brought of the firstborn of his flock and of their fat. And the LORD respected Abel and his offering, but He did not respect Cain and his offering. And Cain was very angry, and his countenance fell. So the LORD said to Cain, “Why are you angry? And why has your countenance fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin lies at the door. And its desire is for you, but you should rule over it.”

Now Cain talked with Abel his brother; and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and killed him. Then the LORD said to Cain, “Where is Abel your brother?” He said, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” And He said, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground. So now you are cursed from the earth, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you till the ground, it shall no longer yield its strength to you. A fugitive and a vagabond you shall be on the earth.”

And Cain said to the LORD, “My punishment is greater than I can bear! Surely You have driven me out this day from the face of the ground; I shall be hidden from Your face; I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond on the earth, and it will happen that anyone who finds me will kill me.” And the LORD said to him, “Therefore, whoever kills Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold.” And the LORD set a mark on Cain, lest anyone finding him should kill him.

Many people have questioned why God accepted Abel's offering but not Cain's. It gives me difficulty too, particularly because I automatically empathise with Cain. Sometimes I try to find favour in God's eyes and don't feel like I have. But others seem to have; others who sometimes haven't even tried as hard as me! I know, in reality, that it's not about the trying. But it does raise the question of why some people seem favoured and others don't.

And that's why, actually, I feel sorry for Cain.

Well you could've said!

2008-11-28T01:54:00.006Z

Tonight, whilst listening to this podcast from Jesus Metropolitan Community Church I was blown away by a reference to a passage from 1 Peter that I'd never heard of before. Here it is:

Christ suffered for our sins once for all time. He never sinned, but he died for sinners to bring you safely home to God. He suffered physical death, but he was raised to life in the Spirit.

So he went and preached to the spirits in prison - those who disobeyed God long ago when God waited patiently while Noah was building his boat.

1 Peter 4:18-20 [NLT]

This passage really grips me because my understanding is that while Jesus was dead, He descended into hell and actually rescued souls who had been condemned there. Y'know what? Listen to the podcast. Jeff Miner does it a lot more justice than I do.