FILTHY GORGEOUS

June is the official month of LGBTQ Pride. This is a minority group that has a high rate of suicide. Why is this? There are many marginalized minority groups out there, but for some reason the LGBTQ community is one of the hardest hit. In fact, researchers have found that attempted suicide rates and suicidal ideation among lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) youth is comparatively higher than among the general population.

As a bi-sexual woman myself, I feel it is very important that I not only support my community, but also share the truth about what we go through on a daily basis.

I suppose it's good to start at the beginning. When I was a kid growing up, I was very confused about my sexuality. I would get crushes on boys, but I was also attracted to women's bodies. For a very long time I thought there was something severely wrong with myself. I asked my mom about "the gay" and she explained it to me. But I knew I wasn't gay. But was I straight, I asked myself. Not exactly. So for years I stumbled awkwardly through my childhood believing I must be an alien from another planet, and a very broken one at that. It wasn't until I was about 11 years old, when I was reading a magazine discussing the hit single of the time, "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover" by Sophie B. Hawkins, that a new notion dawned on me. The article talked about how this song alluded to bi-sexuality. Now, mind you, I had never heard of the term bi-sexual. But immediately, when my eyes rolled over that word, I knew the meaning of it and I knew that it was the best label to describe myself. The relief I felt was immeasurable.

But my joy was short-lived. The buzz in the 90s was that gay was a choice, it was a mental disease, it was the fastest ticket to hell. Quite literally, if you're gay, Jesus wants you to kill yourself. Most people I came out to were fine with it, and super supportive. I remember a comment my mom made about bi-sexuality a long time ago: "I understand gay people, but bi? Those people are just sick." She has since changed her viewpoint to one of total embrace and understanding of the whole LGBTQ community (as millions of others have, thankfully). But the fact remains, that millions more still want to eradicate these individuals from the face of the earth (and if they can't, the next best thing is to terrorize them to the point where suicide seems the only viable solution). There are still hate-crimes happening every day, and our current government is doing everything in its power to strip LGBTQ of their rights (thanks, Mike Pence and Co.)

So, on this Pride Month of 2018, I want to send a message to those targeted because of their sexual and/or gender identity (and yay for those super fluid mofos!). Hang in there! You are worth it! Fuck those who aren't in your crew, they are just too high on all their hate and superiority. They are actually insecure, unloved individuals themselves, who feel better when they take their hatred out on the weak and downtrodden. But we are neither of those things. We are humans, with love, fear, insecurities, hopes, and dreams. We want to be accepted by all, but we won't be. And that's ok. It doesn't diminish, in any way, our validity--our humanity. And there's good news. We have a shit-ton of straight allies. Yes, you can be straight and still stand with us. And I'd like to thank these allies, who fight for us even when sometimes we don't have the will to fight. We see you, we appreciate you, and we thank you.

Now, go out there and be fabulous!

BEEEEEEE YOURSELF 🐝

Therapy was lit today! Apparently I don't have to change; I am fine the way I am. Who woulda thunkit?!

ONCE OR TWICE

I'M THE ONLY THING STANDING IN THE WAY OF MYSELF

So I've wanted to be a writer since I was a young child. I began keeping a journal at the age of 7, and started writing short stories soon after. I used to fantasize about the titles of my books: I tried to come up with titles that were dreamy, fairy-like, and ethereal. I remember letting my mom read a passage from one of my short stories, and her critiquing me as if I was an adult (I was a little kid!). Although that deflated me a little, I kept going.

I haven't written anything in years. What happened? Life got in the way, and now when I try to write I do things that make the process almost unbearable. I edit as I write, instead of just writing freely and editing later. This slows down the work and makes it more tedious than it needs to be. I'm obsessive when it comes to proper grammar and sentence structure. As a homeschooler who mainly taught myself, I never had a formal education, so I always doubt my writing skills. When I was in college I had to write a lot of papers, and a few of my professors commented favorably on my writing, one going so far as to suggest I had a great imagination and should take a course in creative writing. But I suffer from impostor syndrome and end up convincing myself I'm a shite writer that will never make it. Also, I have dozens of stories in my head, and I have no idea where to start. I have a very short attention span, and writing a book requires a decent amount of commitment. Sometimes I feel like something horrible has to happen in my personal life in order for me to surrender and write uninhibited. I'd rather just start writing without such a depressing push. I'm just wondering if, like  J. K. Rowling, I have to be motivated by pain and desperation. I'm sure that motivates a lot of authors. Unfortunately, it doesn't always guarantee success. And yet, wise men have urged us to work regardless of the fruit of the labor, but for the work itself. Therein lies the true joy.

PREMONITION?

So I just saw that Margot Kidder, famous for her role as Lois Lane in the Superman movies from the 70s/80s, passed away on Sunday. Something peculiar happened to me either last night or the night before (I can't recall which evening it occurred). I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep after having some of my medical marijuana. I've been taking stronger doses the past few days to help me sleep better. As I was lying there, my mind started to wander as it does when I am trying to fall asleep. Occasionally the medical marijuana will cause my thoughts to wander even more than usual, and in unexpected ways. So on this night the Superman movies popped in my head: I thought about Christoper Reeve as Superman, and Margot Kidder as Lois Lane. I remembered watching those movies as a kid and was so enthralled with their relationship--how he always made sure she was safe; how he'd swoop down from the sky to rescue her from dangerous situations. I remembered  the chemistry of their kisses. I also thought what a shame it was that Christopher Reeve had died so young and so tragically, and even wondered if "Lois Lane" was still alive.

So it was very eerie seeing her in the news today, and learning of her death. May she rest in peace.

DO NO HARM DAY

Thomasina, Ollie, and Onyx would like to remind everyone that declawing is mutilation and can cause lifelong problems for your cat. Please visit The Paw Project for more info! Thanks for speaking up for cats and kittens everywhere! #DoNoHarmDay #BanDeclawing #MakeItALawDontDeclaw

WE'RE CUTTING OFF THE REINFORCEMENTS, MA'AM

So today's therapy session did not go so great, and not because of the actual therapy, but because my doctor is moving to a different location in 2 months and won't be covered under my insurance. He gave me the heads-up (which I appreciate) so that I could make the necessary adjustments when the time comes: either a) call my insurance to find out if they cover out-of-network (they don't); b) pay $80 per visit (can't afford it); or c) get a new therapist (now when I am finally starting to open up and make a remote semblance of progress). Naturally, this has flung me into my "worry, worry, worry" state, which is completely defeating and depressing. Couple that with the fact that my night terrors have been keeping me in a state of frenzied panic--when instead I should be getting restful sleep--which in turn has caused my TMJ to act up overtime. I'm done, people. I'm done.