Belief, Faith and Suspension of Disbelief

Any religion that demands that I ‘check my brain at the door’ is not for me. God gave me a brain and expects me to use it to the best of my ability. The brain is for more than basic needs. If it weren’t then it would not be as it is and we would not have been blessed with self-awareness.

This is not to say that I avoid faith or belief or even just the suspension of disbelief. All of these are very different than turning your brain off.

How about I explain…

Checking your brain at the door, to me, means you don’t question. You don’t question what you read or what is told to you by those in “authority”, either here on earth in the form of Pastors, Priests, Rectors, anyone in authority, or in Heaven. You don’t ask questions and you NEVER ask why. You are told to take everything that is given to you “on faith” or you are not a good Baptist, Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist, Mormon, whatever the flavor is. (I am limiting this to “Christian” beliefs because those are what I have personal experience with) You are told that if you question you are sinning and sinners go to hell.

The suspension of disbelief, to me, is where you do ask questions. Many questions. When sometimes you get the answers, you may not be able to believe them. However, you know somewhere deep down that they are true. You choose to suspend disbelief or you choose to believe (different things if you think about it) but, you are not asked to swallow information based on blind faith and no thought.

Growing up I made the mistake of asking a lot of questions. This did not please the pastors and priests that I interacted with. Some of the questions were the standard “why do bad things happen to good people” some were a bit more esoteric but all got the same or similar response. First would be a simple answer to the question, such as, “because there is evil in the world” answer to the bad things to good people question. If I pressed further I was actively discouraged, if I did not listen to the discouragement then I was told that I was a “girl and what did I know of these things.” Well, I knew what I didn’t know and that was why I was asking the questions.

Round and round I went, till I fell apart, and began the process of falling together.

I spent the better part of 3 years angry with God. Angry does not quite capture how I felt. Rage. Rage is a good capture of how I felt during that time. I was pissed off about the bullshit answers (or non answers) I got to my questions, great and small. I was pissed off at the abuse I had suffered all in the name of “god's will” and casting out evil. I was pissed off at the condemnation of who I am. Both the questioner and the orientation aspects of myself. I demanded to know why God created me this way but then condemned her creation. “Fuck you” was said to God a lot during that time. Sometimes I even embellished it with “and the horse you rode in on.” I even turned my back to her for a short time when I ran out of words but couldn’t stand not screaming something at her.

The entire time She just waited. Waited while I hurled insults, anger, pain her way. All the while being silent. The good kind of silence, the waiting kind, full of love and understanding. After about 2 years of this, She spoke and asked me “is it me you are angry at or is it my self called ‘followers’”? I had to rail for another 3 months before I would answer that question. I did finally answer it and spent the next 3 months angry that She did nothing to stop all of that from happening.

“I had a purpose in letting it happen”

“Fuck you!”

“I will tell you sometime what the purpose was, then you will understand”

“Ok but can you tell me soon”

“You will know when it is time”

“FINE”

Much later I did get the answer and now I am actually grateful for having gone through my past. If I had not, I would have no true understanding of the suffering of others.

So, to wrap up.

Belief that God would not strike me dead was what allowed me to be angry with God.

Faith is what allows me to hear her voice and understand what she is saying.

In order for me to be where I am today I needed to suspend my disbelief that God would allow me space to work through my anger.

Hope that cleared up my perception of the differences between those three.

But, I digress...

Sums it up

This entry from RuachX pretty much sums up the whole thing...

http://ruachx.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-more-moment-of-stupid-thats-what-i.html

Forgotten

I just had to look up an old boss of mine from 2002. No big deal. Couldn't really find her. So I called a coworker who was here at my company at the same time. She mentioned a few things that made me realize something.

Because of my drinking there is an entire year that I don't remember. An... entire... year.

Out of the whole of 2002 I remember seven events.

Someone dear to me's broken ankle
A fight someone dear and I had on the phone one night
Being in the hospital for 3 weeks.
The last time someone dear and I spoke on the phone
4th of July party
Going to the National PowWow
spending my 30th birthday in the hospital

Out of 365 days I remember 7 things.

Seven.

When I got sober the following year, I did not think my drinking had gotten that severe. After all, I still had a job (barely) and a place to live (thousands in unpaid rent).

This... this of all things makes me realize how bad the drinking had really gotten.

There are times when I wish I could be numb for a little bit. Times when things are so overwhelming I feel as if I can't take it. That is when I wish for just a bit of numb.

I was apparently numb for all of 2002.

JESUS CHRIST!

What did I miss that year? What conversations did I have with someone dear that I DON'T REMEMBER? What did I say?

Fuck, FUCK, FUCK!

Time that is gone... wasted time.

I will cry about this later. After dinner with a friend who I am certain will not understand.


What I am learning these days...

is that the hardest person to forgive...

is me.

Love your neighbor

Time to take back our country.

Not just in the form of our government taking our rights away. I propose that we take our country back in the form of helping our neighbors.

Check out this link. http://www.komotv.com/news/9907767.html This is a story from Seattle, WA about a family that was targeted for hate because of being Jewish. Their cars were spray painted with swastikas. The police are investigating this as vandelism until they can prove the intent of the shits that did this. When they prove it, then it becomes a hate crime.

Meanwhile

This family is in shock and horror. They are nervous that the next time they come out of the house in the morning the will find more shit to deal with. More peace lost.

I read this and the usual anger came up. "What the FUCK is WRONG with people?!?" A question I am asking all too often these days. Then the next question comes up. "What can I do about this?"

I suggest that (with the permission of the family) the "neighbors" of these folks start taking turns camping one person near their house to keep watch and make sure they are safe. The police are not able to do this due to staffing shortages and needing to respond to more urgent crises. I get that and agree with that. So, it is up to us. Not in a "gonna get those sonsobitches" kind of way. In a "I see someone sneaking around their house gonna call the cops" kind of way.

Better that then waiting till someone tosses a moletov coctail through the front window.

Cause you know that is where hate ends up. It doesn't stop with spray paint or burning crosses.

It would be even better if before it got to the spray paint stage, we talked to our neighbors. Saw them as truly human, not just "others." Different, yes, but beautiful because of that difference.

Black, Brown, Red, White
Fag, Queer, Straight
Male, Female, Male-to-Female, Female-to-Male
Old, Young
Rich, Middle, Poor, Poverty
Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Wiccan, Agnostic, Athiest

All of us. We are all one. If one hurts we all hurt.

Walking into the back room
to where all the broken memories and dreams lay

"Wow, this really piled up other the years" I say.

You say "Yes but, we can get through it"

The bookshelves were other things
Surface things
Yes, they needed to be organized

However

It is time (I guess) to go and sort through all the...

Clutter

Mess

Junk

I am getting ready to move after all

Who wants to take all the broken stuff
I would rather sort through and take the meaningful stuff.

Leave the rest

This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.

Perhaps that is why I felt the need for a break.

Could I feel this coming?

The change in venue is appropriate. Perhaps I was getting into a rut, with the safety of similarity.

Change is good.
I am starting to believe that.

The view is better
Higher
Good analogy.

"Come on up, the view is amazing. You should see this."

I am beginning to.

and

I am looking forward to the view from farther along.

Even though the rocks I will climb look terrifying.
I know in my head that the ropes will hold.
My heart isn't quite so sure.

I just need to put in a few more anchor points.

You know, just in case.

Dude! Where's my Country?!?

Finally, something to do about the insane bullshit going on.



http://shutitdown101707.blogspot.com/

What would I say...

I just found out that you just got married. Congratulations.

I think.

We were together for such a short time. 3 years isn’t that long.

What can I say. You were one way with me and now another. Which one is true.

Or are they both.

I’m not understanding. I am missing a piece. A Five year piece. Time to change. I know I have.

You wouldn’t recognize me now. The hair is similar, with some added gray. The weight is similar, with the recent loss. The clothes are even similar, with additions of things more in my style and less what others expect.

You wouldn’t recognize me now. I am sober. Four years in fact. I am calm. This one is newer. I am serene. This one is newest of them all. I speak clearer, think clearer, and have opinions that are my very own. I take advice from loved ones and don’t from people I don’t respect. I have trust in my instincts. Didn’t know I had instincts huh? I didn’t either till a little while ago. I have faith in God(ess) again and still go to the Episcopal church you introduced me to so long ago.

How have you changed? Based on the notice that I found by accident, a lot. And, not that much.

You said you would go back if we broke up. I didn’t really believe it then (or didn’t want to). But you did.

Interesting.

Were you both when we were together but couldn’t admit it to yourself then? Were you one way with me and then another with others. What is the truth? The base truth.

I found mine. Did you find yours?

So, many, questions. That I won’t get the chance to ask you.

Even if we run into each other someday.

Which I hope and dread all at the same time. Today, more dread than anything else. What would I say…

Will you look the same? Do you limp from the shattered ankle all those years ago? I doubt it. You were too strong for that.

You were my first true love and I still love you. I will always. But not the same way. I will always wonder if you are happy. Or even just content.

Do you wonder about me. The last thing you said in the apartment before you left stays with me still.

The last thing I said to you in the old apartment just popped back in my mind. And brought a smile. I hope it came true. You need someone to make you laugh, and dance, and think. Things I didn’t give you enough of.

But back to today.

I am the same and so vastly different than when you knew. Or could have imagined. I bet you are wildly different too.

The shock today was from looking at you from long ago. 6 years ago. Too long ago to hold you too.

Time to say goodbye now. More later I am sure.

a small field in pennsylvania

is where my brothers and sisters died.

They weren't my brothers and sisters in life. They became my brothers and sisters when they charged the cockpit of an airplane. I believe that when someone dies to protect you that makes you related. Don't you think?

That day, while firefighters in DC and NY were battling fires caused by hate, my brothers and sisters were on a plane headed west. After some of the crew were killed they called loved ones and heard that they were not alone in their fear.

What they did with their fear is amazing.

We made heroes of the firefighters in NY. I think that is true. Takes courage to run into the flames and try and get people out. Takes more courage to run into a building that is a tall ass death trap.

I think we forget about another batch of heroes.

We forget that the firefighters and police of New York signed up for this. They knew when they went to training that on the job death was a possibility. A reality.

The people of flight 93 were average. Just going on a flight. On a trip. They were all just like you and me. Average people with average lives.

No training.

No equipment.

Just them.

They heard from their loved ones that they were dead. Or gonna be. They knew that when they died that the plane they were on was going to be used as the weapon to kill others.

They waited till they were over unpopulated areas to try and take the plane back.

They didn't know that at that same time I was in a building in downtown Washington, DC. This building was 5 blocks from the White House.

My apartment was 5 blocks from the Capitol Building.

My friend was working in the Heart Senate Office building 1 block from the Capitol grounds.

Because my brothers and sisters died in Pennsylvania, Eric and I were spared.

And others too.

I think sometimes about what I would have done in their place. I like to believe that I would have been right along with them, trying to pound my way through the cockpit door.

Truth is, I don't know what I would have done. I have in the past jumped in to help when it ment danger to me, so I suspect I would have been right up front.

But

I have not been in that situation and we NEVER know how we will react. I bet those folks, when they got on the plane, wouldn't have believed what they were able to accomplish.

So

Here's to you, my brothers and sisters. Your loved ones live on.

Six Years Later

Six years later I still can't get used to the skyline of New York without the landmarks.

Six years later I still remember what it was like to stand in the plaza and look up.

Six years later and they are still gone.

In response to a request for a donation

I got a request from MoveOn.Org for yet another donation to end the war in Iraq. Here is the response I posted in their feedback section on their website.

I sent the following in response to the "Fighting Back" email I just received.

"I am not this optimistic. The Democrats tossed the Service Members under the bus the last time they had the opportunity to end this.

The political parties may change but nothing else does...”

I would like to add this to the above statement.

It appears that MoveOn has become quite the champion of the Democratic Party. While I at one time agreed that the Democratic Party was better than the Republican Party in protecting rights for the underprivileged, I think that recent events have proven that belief incorrect.

As a Lesbian I have long been accustomed to Democratic candidates saying what the queer community has wanted to hear in order to get elected, then once in office selling out. At that time I deluded myself into thinking that perhaps this was just an issue that was too hot to handle or it was too difficult to pass the legislation.

When the Democrats took over the House and Senate on the “out of Iraq” and “Hold Bush Accountable” types of promises I got my hopes up. I believed that change was possible. However, now I see that my beliefs about the GLBT issues were misguided. It appears that ANY issue is too difficult for them to deal with. From what I have seen come out of the House and Senate since they took over it is the same old story. Say anything to get elected, do anything else while in office.

I have lost my faith that it will ever improve. Or change for that matter. I have decided that from now on I will not be donating my money to political causes; I will instead be redirecting that money towards the people who are making a difference in America, the social service, homeless shelter, youth, and victims of domestic violence organizations.

Thank you for allowing me this space to say my piece.

What am I holding for you?

was the question my therapist asked me one day.

I didn't have an answer then.

Well I do now.

What is she holding for me?

Answers in questions.
Guidance in silence.
Dances with words.
Clarity in haze.
Revelations in waiting.
Encouragement in confusion.

'You should see this! The view is amazing. Worth the hike up the mountain.'

Gonna do some more hiking soon. Just got to gather some things together first...

You ever have one of those moments where you realize how well you really are doing?

I have BiPolar disorder and have for a little while now considered myself high functioning. High functioning with a caveat though.

I hold down a job. In fact I have been with the same company for 6 years now. I have a consistent routine that works really well. I get to work and other appointments usually on time with a few exceptions for circumstances not always under my control. I have a close group of friends that I would be lost without and a very supportive partner. I have not had a major episode in over 2 years.

The caveat being that I don’t usually remember to pay my bills, finish things that I start, or do some of the simple life maintenance things that “everyone else” does and that are usually humiliating to ask for help remembering.

I have been beating myself up for a long time about the caveat.

Till a few minutes ago, when I went on the About.com webpage looking for information on reasonable accommodations for BiPolar disorder to give to my new boss. I came across a checklist for Daily Maintenance that someone had put up. I read through it and decided that it would be a good idea for me to start using this.

Then it hit me…

I figured out how to do some of the things on the list on my own, that I have been doing them for a while now. I paid for a truck before taking ownership so that I worked with my limits instead of giving myself an excuse to beat myself up. I just made sure that instead of borrowing money to last till payday, I earned enough money to last till payday. I have my work back under control to the point that I can sit and write this on my lunch break, instead of working through lunch just to keep up. I am learning healthy boundaries and have become more comfortable in them.

These are all things that I have a hard time with and could not take into account that these are more difficult for me than most. Equivalent of swimming the English Channel with about 5 or 10 pounds of extra weight strapped to each foot. I had, up to this point been comparing myself to everyone else, the so called “normals” out there.

It just sunk in that I am doing fucking great!