June 16, 2020

My Tin-Foil is Showing

I am such a paranoid and suspicious person by nature. Whenever anyone young and attractive shows me any attention my immediate response is “what do you want from me?” Or if anyone ends up following me longer than 4 blocks my “logical” response is that they’re after me. (I have had someone legitimately follow me because I had taken a picture of his house for my job.) So, whenever I witness something out of the ordinary, in a pattern, I begin to panic.

My husband, lately, has had balance issues. Bad ones. He’s fallen a few times, one in which gave him a concussion. To me it’s getting worse, but for him it’s getting better. And that deeply concerns me. Primarily because it makes me think of my mother (in the descent of dementia) who will tell me the same thing and I want to respond with “no it definitely is not.”

This trump ramp/water glass thing initiated my husband to remark “he looks like what I have.” And I agree. It does. But it also looks like what happened with my dad. And that ended up killing him because he fell at the wrong place and wrong time.

Another factor that concerns me is that he, his mother, and I have had similar symptoms where we are dizzy or light headed. She had vertigo the other day and I start to get lightheaded if I scroll through my phone too quickly. All of this plays into my paranoia/suspicion that we are all suffering from the same sort of “disease.”

This is where I really put on a tin foil hat and I know that. At least I am aware of how crazy it sounds but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re all suffering from something we’ve contracted. Maybe even my mother. And I include her because she entered this at the snap of the fingers and while she is seeing things and all around kind of kooky at times, her memory is sharp as a tack.

My insanity really jumps out when I think that my husband has had 8 MRIs and still has no diagnosis. But it is VERY obvious that there is something wrong. Unless of course he’s putting on a show, but he isn’t that good of actor nor is he a liar. He’s annoyingly honest at times. So, these symptoms with no diagnosis even though the examination and study has been don’t, is all the more concerning.

This is all just drivel and I’m about 40% serious in what I write, but it’s freaking me out. Everyone I know or love has some sort of physical failing. Especially my close inner circle. (Thankfully they boyfriend doesn’t have similar symptoms.) And all I can ask is “am I next?” (Side note my knee has now started giving away inexplicably. So. Fun.)

June 12, 2020

“Looking out a dirty old window…”

There was an article I read once that said that we tend to rewatch movies and tv shows we’ve already seen because there are no unknowns and in that knowledge it brings us a sense of comfort. I subconsciously knew that before I had read the article but it was nice to get confirmation. My whole life I’ve rewatched the shit out of films. I would drive my father crazy with how many times I viewed Jurassic Park or Beauty and the Beast. “How can you watch them so many times?” Because they’re awesome, dad.

Lately things have been rough. For everyone unfortunately. And some more than others. Today I had had enough with twitter. I can’t take all the news, the protests, and the outrage. It’s exhausting. (And I understand that’s coming from a place of privilege.) So, I took a step back today from the social media platform for the foreseeable future or whenever I get the urge to be angry again.

Lately my rage has been off the charts. My husband is scared what it’s doing to me and to him. He’s concerned that I’m a rageaholic and he’s not wrong. I relish the power it gives me, even if it’s fleeting and makes me look and sound insane. I am by nature a control freak. I took that old adage of “if you want something done right…” very seriously to heart. And right now I have NO CONTROL over the world and where it’s going. Everyday it’s something new and more upsetting/terrifying than the moment prior. Twitter, unfortunately, magnifies this, which stands to reason that stepping away lessens its hold.

Tonight as a way of coping I jumped onto Netflix and rewatched one of my all time favorite movies, Clueless. The moment the music of “Kids in America” crescendos through the speakers and I hear the first pieces of Cher’s dialogue I was overcome with peace. I found myself quoting it even though my last rewatch was when I was 14. (I’m 34 btw.) It brought back so many memories of my youth, a time I wish I could go back and recapture.

I was once again hooked.

As the bright neon end credits consumed the screen, to the tune of “Tenderness,” all I wanted to do was watch it again. Immediately. Which I did.

The bizarre thing was, as it started back at the beginning, I began to devise ways to have this movie constantly playing in my orbit, like a slow drip morphine of nostalgia. What I devised was to use my work’s WiFi and just have it playing on my earbuds, as I type up my reports. I’ve seen it so many times that I don’t even have to look at the screen to know what’s goings on. I see the movie in my mind’s eye.

If you’re struggling right now may I recommend taking a moment to watch an old favorite movie or show. Don’t concern yourself with your phone and just sit in the presence of your chosen film and all that comes with it.

June 8, 2020

A Need to Belong

In the wake of everything that is happening it’s difficult to maintain a positive outlook. I try by finding it in the tiny moments of my life; in little pleasures like video games, TV, or books. It’s like mental balm for my aching brain and heart. However, of these things nothing soothes and cures more than companionship.

When I say that I don’t exclusively refer to romantic relationships, although it is obviously included. I mean that I reach out for another through intimate moments (conversation or physical contact.) I truly believe humanity, by nature, are social creatures (even the introverts.) I think that’s why things like social media take off because it widens the net in which we can find camaraderie. The thing that hinders this human need is the idea of “tribes” or someone not belonging because they don’t match the criteria we’ve been taught needs to be “met” to “belong.” (And we all want to fucking belong.)

I hate how fiercely tribal we are, and I am NO exception. Such instinct was was born out of necessity for survival in our ancestral days dating back to primates. However, then it was from predators, not from our own species, although that does play a factor too. (More so now I’m afraid.) As we grow as a society and learn more on “what it is to be human” there are those who refuse to learn and grow, because it’s either exhausting or they can’t wrap their brains around it. And it is true, that at times, it can be overwhelming. But we must lean into the pain if we are to move beyond; and some just flat-out refuse.

I truly believe if society rid itself of “teams” we would all try and help each other. (Insert eye-roll here.) But that will never happen. Even if we stripped away current concepts of belonging we would boil it down to another, because it takes energy to welcome new people and trust implicitly. We want to be able to look at someone and know immediately that “I don’t need to fear, they’re ‘x’.” And that is fighting millennia of evolutionary learning and survival. Which, frankly, fucking sucks.

My ideas are sometimes too utopian. I guess I just want to believe. Unfortunately, it would require everyone to 1) admit fault, wrong-doing or failures and 2) be open to learning. Only then can we move forward as a society.

Until that revolutionary day, I will seek out the comfort and embrace of my “tribe,” because in their presence is where I don’t have to fear and I immediately know that I am safe. And in this time of unrest, it is the best medicine.

May 27, 2020

A Three Step Process to Disbelief

Damn… I have attempted this blog post from multiple angles but for whatever reason none of them have “sparked joy.” So, I deleted them and started again, not looking back. But with each new iteration more personal story came bubbling up to the surface and I felt compelled to continue on.

I was inspired to write because I had read an article about the lead singer of a christian band revealing that he no longer believed in god. It was inspiring and very touching, and some of his words mirrored my own thoughts. Except the journey to how each of us arrived at our conclusion was very different.

His was a lingering sense of the bible not being true, whereas mine was revealed to me step by step until I arrived at the peak of this new way of thinking.

When I met my husband I had lived a very religious life. Up until that point I had even still believed in god, even though I was gay. It was just me carrying the bonds of my former imprisonment. (Brainwashing is hard to undo.)

My husband was the one who shook my faith. He asked me questions, and the one thing Christianity hates is inquiries into the validity of belief. And the answers that are typically offered in response to most are nonsensical and unending self-prophecy. Where the one giving the answer has this overwhelming sense of accomplishment for these “spiritual attacks” and doesn’t see their own bullshit. Except, most people who ask such probing thoughts are not my husband. He is the most antagonistic person I have ever met and has a way of driving you crazy with his interrogations. And to say he made me angry in those early days is an understatement. I truly do not understand how I stuck around or didn’t murder him. Yet it was these mental exercises that put deep cracks in my religious foundation.

The next big step was silly and kind of pathetic looking back…

I was a biblical literalist. I believed that everything that was mentioned in the bible factually and literally happened. It wasn’t meant for interpretation or was used as allegory. It occurred. And so, when I realized that if you could see a man sunbathing on the roof of a building with Google earth, you’d most certainly find a flaming sword guarding the entrance to a mythical garden from whence all life sprung forth. That revelation truly made me doubt everything. Dumb… I know.

The thing that inevitably killed every ounce of lingering faith within me was my mother’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. I couldn’t understand why a woman who had devoted her life to this mystical entity, acted as a “true christian” should, was just given the worst death sentence. My brain tried to comprehend it, like was this a punishment for letting me be faggot? And if that’s so, why would he use my mother as a device to torture me? One of his most faithful. These thoughts led me to my ultimate conclusion that there couldn’t be a god and if there was one he was the biggest asshole, one who didn’t give a shit if you tried or not. He just wanted to know that he could, much like the one in the book of Job.

The last thing I ever told my father, before he died, was that I didn’t believe in god anymore. I outlined the reasons above and he just looked at me silently, with his appraising eyes. He didn’t respond. I wonder now if he started to question it also. At the time, he was in the thick of my mother “losing her mind,” before getting leveled out by medication. I can’t imagine what he felt. (Sidenote, I really do miss him.)

Now I am a staunch atheist. Life to me is just one big accident filled with a lot of cruelty, lacking any reason. It just is what it is.

The lingering religious thoughts come to the surface and said “well that doesn’t seem like a good way to think of life.” And my response to my own ridiculous thoughts is, yes it is. It removes this belief that I have to have my life mean something, or that it’s some sort of test to get to enlightenment, acting all on “faith” that it even exists. So why would I waste the time I have now chasing some figment of imagination. I’d rather just live my days trying to be a good person because it’s the right thing to do, and not because I will receive some awards in the afterlife.

P.S. I also don’t believe in an after life.