Unraveling part 2: still unraveling

[seeking_brilliance]

(anyone can post on this journal, however please keep questions to things I have already discussed instead of getting ahead in my story.  I don't want to interrupt the flow in which it comes. Thank you ?)  

Epilogue:

Stories

As if ingrained into our very own DNA, it seems that humans share the common urge to tell their story. From those who write books about themselves, to those who share experiences in case it can help others of like mind, all the way to those who unconsciously share their stories through unconscious actions and metaphors. It is an unrelenting urge. It's even common knowledge that sharing your story has huge psychological advantages. It heals the mind and soul as you share your story with others. And of course you can never share the whole, largely in part because memory does not serve the whole story. So we tell them in snippets. A little here and there. The parts that serve us most in the moment. Our stories are told in snippets. Here will be a few Snippets of mine.

 

Chapter 1: The Turn. 

     I was born and raised in Southern Arkansas. A land of farms and cow patties. Of fishing in your backyard, or swimming in any pool of water you can find. There's a church on almost every street,  and my family were faithful members, eventually becoming a minister family. The town where I went to school had one red light, and everyone was excited when we got a restaurant called Sonic Drive-In. It was however a good school district in Arkansas's mediocre reputation. 

      I wasn't extremely popular in elementary school, but I had friends who came over for birthday parties and was an exuberant participant in the 3rd and 4 th grade school plays. I loved to sing. I grew up singing in church almost every Sunday in front of a crowd. I was shy about that, and sometimes about speaking to people, but beyond that I was very outgoing and carefree. Part of the shyness of speaking to people was due to a slight speech impediment that was not caused by the shape of my mouth, but my brain sometimes puts letters in the wrong place or forgets what it's saying midsentence. This led to an anxiety of repeating myself and that still haunts me to this day. This is all something that I have mostly overcome as I grew up, and it was easy to forget that I had this issue as a child. Yet  the anxiety of speaking stuck with me throughout the rest of my life. It was only further damaged in sixth grade when my life took if it's hardest turn... 

     Being a lover of singing, I I was finally old enough to join the school choir. Having sung joyfully for the Lord Almighty (?) my entire life, in the beautiful range of soprano, I of course joined choir and asked to be put in the soprano section. I loved to sing the melody, which is typically what the sopranos sing. The damage was instantly done. I became the class joke. None of the other boys wanted to sit with the sopranos because that would have made them look like girls. They only wanted to sing bass or baritone. Even when one got moved to alto section he got made fun of a little, but they still accepted him.

    But I was good, and was taken to competition tryouts. This made them jealous and fueled their ridicule against me. So between some of the popular boys in choir and the fact that there was only around 100 kids in my grade, it was not long before no one would talk to me nicely again. Once the class joke, always the class joke in a small town like this. So starting in 6th grade and up to the point where I left the school in 11th grade, I had no friends. The most miserable feeling I had ever experienced. My personality changed exponentially. I became introverted, shy, and unmotivated. Grades began to slip. Even at church I felt welcome but I was not as outgoing there as I would have been before the life change. I didn't want my picture taken. I didn't like the way I looked. Self image went to zero.  Entertainment became my new friend and has served me well ever since. (although it's fading)

In college I completely learned from scratch how to make friends, but that's another story for another day. 

Edited October 1, 2019 by seeking_brilliance

[seeking_brilliance]

 Chapter 1.5: The Turn, Revisited. 

 

    It's hard to believe that something as simple as singing soprano in choir was enough to 'ruin' my life, but as with anything, there's more to the story.
     
      Backing up a year, in fifth grade was the last time I remember feeling free. It is my defining year against the rest of my life. I remember pulling an innocent prank on my homeroom teacher and it didn't turn out well, because it scared her. That embarrassed me badly, because she went to the church that my dad just began preaching at, and I really felt like I let her down. Around this time, I had learned what being self conscious was, and that many times it happens around puberty which was beginning for me. This embarrassment with my teacher was one of my first plunges into being self-conscious which fueled my shyness and anxiety.
     
     Also this year, something very traumatizing happened at school. I had a best friend, Scott, since kindergarten. We did everything together at school and often slept over outside of school as well. There were others in our group of friends but I always considered Scott to be my best.
   
     A new kid moved to town....
    
     I can't remember if this kid hung out in our group  for a bit of time, or if he just showed up one day. What I remember is showing up for school one morning, walking to the end of the building which was our group's newish meeting spot, and being stopped by the new kid. Matthew. Tall, thin, and cute. But also an asshole as he begins to tell me that I'm no longer allowed this way anymore and to stay away from the group and from Scott.  He and Scott became new best friends until graduation and I was left abandoned.
    
      The pain was horrible. And I had no efficient coping skills.  I found another friend fast but a couple years later he too abandoned me and found himself another best friend.   The only thing that saved me in this moment was my faith in God. That there's a better life waiting outside of high school, especially for a faithful man of God, and that an eternal home in heaven by his side was waiting for me one day, since I was lucky enough to believe. 

     Jeez that's morbid when you think about it... 

      And we truly believed. That eternity has two options : forever in God's home or forever burning in the pits of hell.  And that only the ones who hear the true word of God, through the Missionary Baptist denomination only, ( although we let Southern Baptists slide through a bit), and accept Jesus christ into their hearts, will be saved from this eternal torture and live in peace in heaven. 

     Wow if they only knew they are so close so many times in their doctrines, but have chosen the literal path instead of using the stories as pointers. I suppose that's bound to happen as it appears to be a basic function of mankind. 

     I digress... Which may happen often ?. 

      There's one more instance which solidified what I'm (apparently) calling 'the turn'.  And of course there's the story of 'the turning point', or 'the re-turn' (... Still working on that ??). But alas, that's another story for another day. 
      

Edited October 1, 2019 by seeking_brilliance

[Zigzag Idiot]

According to David N. Wilkin, "The Latin Fathers translated metanoia as paenitentia, which came to mean "penance" or "acts of penance.""[4] Tertullian protested the unsuitable translation of the Greek metanoeo into the Latin paenitentiam ago by arguing that "in Greek, metanoia is not a confession of sins but a change of mind."[9] "Conversion" (from the Latin conversiōn-emturning round) with its "change in character" meaning is more nearly the equivalent of metanoia than repentance.[13]

The Greek Orthodox Church in America teaches that "The Greek term for repentance, metanoia, denotes a change of mind, a reorientation, a fundamental transformation of outlook, of man's vision of the world and of himself, and a new way of loving others and God. In the words of a second-century text, The Shepherd of Hermas, it implies "great understanding," or discernment."[19]

In his 1881 The Great Meaning of the Word Metanoia, Treadwell Walden, Episcopal priest and sometime rector of St. Paul's Church, Boston, designated cathedral of the diocese in 1912, asserts that metanoia conveys the essence of the Christian gospel. Walden holds that the meaning of the Greek metanoia is very different from the meaning of the English "repentance". He describes the translation of  metanoia as repentance as "an extraordinary mistranslation." Walden believed the meaning of metanoia as a "transmutation" of consciousness contrasted with classical Greek which he viewed as expressing a superficial change of mind.[20] Walden sought to promote the proper meaning of metanoia as "change of Mind, a change in the trend and action of the whole inner nature, intellectual, affectional and moral" over against its translation as repentance.[21]

In Repentance: A Cosmic Shift of Mind and Heart, Edward J.Anton observes that in most dictionaries and in the minds of most Christians the primary meaning of "repent" is to look back on past behavior with sorrow, self-reproach, or contrition, sometimes with an amendment of life. But neither Jesus nor John the Baptist says to look back in sorrow. For St Paul, "metanoia is a transfiguration for your brain" that opens a new future.[22]

excerpt from https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metanoia_(theology)

If you find this inapplicable or of little use please let me know and I will 'hide'it. ?

 

[seeking_brilliance]

@Zigzag Idiot  no I love it, it's a bit thick so I'll have to read over it again later...



Yes... so not only do christians pull away from truth because of the literal translations of the bible, but there are so many mistranslations of words which drastically change the meaning, especially if taking literally! Wow they really never stood a chance huh? 

Edited October 1, 2019 by seeking_brilliance

[seeking_brilliance]

Chapter 2: The escape

     In 10th grade, my dad decided that God was calling him to be a missionary to Venezuela. He quit his church that he had been pastoring for 3-4 years, and we sold our house. My brother had recently turned 18 and moved away, so I went to live with my grandma while my mom and dad toured the country, raising money from churches to sponsor this mission in a foreign country.  

    I was ecstatic. Finally, I could leave the pits of hell called High school, early no less, and go on an adventure to South America. Of course I also felt strongly that the people in South America needed to hear about Jesus so they wouldn't die and go to hell, and it was exciting to be a part of that as well. In 11th grade, we finally made the move. I finished high school with homeschooling. I skipped both my proms (which I probably wouldn't have gone to anyway) and skipped my graduation (which I dreaded attending).

     Venezuela was definitely an adventure. There's a bit of culture shock, yes, but I do think it had a huge impact on the rest of my life. I came out of my shell a little, finally being away from a peer group that ridiculed me. In fact everyone in Venezuela loved me, and that was a little hard to process. I was still shy, and unfortunately did not learn enough Spanish because I was shy to speak it with people.  We lived there for a year and a half and finally I moved back to Arkansas to go to college.

.... but that's another story for another day.

(might embellish on this later when I'm not working  )

Edited October 1, 2019 by seeking_brilliance

[seeking_brilliance]

 

Chapter 3: New Territory 

      After living in Venezuela for a year and a half, my mom decided to leave my dad and we both moved back to Arkansas. We settled in a small town (Russellville, which ironically my dad's name is Russell...), and a year or so later she sent the divorce papers. 

          I never blamed my mom for leaving my dad. He was a dogmatic, overbearing, somewhat unconsciously hypocritical man of God. With a short fuse. Once we got to Venezuela, it got worse, and towards the end before we decided to leave, I didn't even like him anymore. And to this day I bet you he feels to be the victim... (I digress...?)

        So in Russellville, I began a new life in new territory. I began college at one that is known for their graphic art programs in Arkansas. Being the good faithful Christian that I am, I immediately found a church to attend and looked for a preacher who used a comfortable preaching style. The church I found was called Calvary Missionary Baptist church, and the preacher was Danny Fudge. His style of preaching was similar to my father's : but not as much fire and brimstone and more soft, caring, and gentle. Ok, so maybe not as similar perhaps, ha.

        In my first attendance I was approached by a girl my age (19ish?), and she invited me to this place called MBSF. Missionary Baptist Student Fellowship. Wow, what an awesome place. Several guys and girls from all levels in college populated the lively halls and rooms of the MBSF. The building was nothing special really... a small, rectangular building with a tiny parking lot in the back. It bordered the college campus, right across from the football field. Inside was sectioned off into a few rooms : a hangout room, a kitchen, and a large fellowship hall in the back. For you non-churchy folks, that's a large open space with many tables where Baptists get to practice one of their favorite traditions : eating. ( Well, eating together, which is really quite nice...) And everyone gathered together under the same idea: how much we love Jesus! And it was our mission to spread his word to the campus of Arkansas Tech University. 

     Here I was accepted. No one turned me away, or ridiculed me. I began to make friends and navigated that with ease. I was very lucky for that opportunity. My life was so different now. The colors just a bit richer. The pain of having no one my age to socialize with, was lifted. It was honestly one of the main highlights of my entire life. Two years of sowing some oats, away from the zealous eyes of my father. Although at that time I was still very repentant so I didn't actually sow like very sinful seeds ??

    Then came an opportunity of a lifetime, which literally set the course of the rest of my life. Recruiters came to the school looking for applicants to work an internship at Disney World. There, I truly began this journey of self discovery....

    .... but that's another story for another day. 

 

Edited October 1, 2019 by seeking_brilliance

[Zigzag Idiot]

? All the synchronicities 

My attention is hooked. ??‍♂️

[Zigzag Idiot]

On 9/30/2019 at 1:50 PM, seeking_brilliance said:

@Zigzag Idiot  no I love it, it's a bit thick so I'll have to read over it again later...



Yes... so not only do christians pull away from truth because of the literal translations of the bible, but there are so many mistranslations of words which drastically change the meaning, especially if taking literally! Wow they really never stood a chance huh? 

I've had a long battle with cynicism.

It kept me from understanding forgiveness.

[seeking_brilliance]

9 minutes ago, Zigzag Idiot said:

? All the synchronicities 

My attention is hooked. ??‍♂️

haha I just had to call a restaurant for a reservation  tomorrow night. They answered with just a "hello", and I go, "Hi is this Synchronicity? " and he responds "well, this is Serendipity, how can I help you?".  

[Zigzag Idiot]

@seeking_brilliance ???Oh that's great! That's rich.?

[seeking_brilliance]

Chapter 4: Wilder Oats. 

       I had been to Disney World twice as a kid. Once when I was pretty young my parents took me and my brother. I don't remember much about it at all, except for the campsite where we stayed and a particular Mickey Mouse doll with a tuxedo. I loved that doll.

       The second time was with my grandparents and cousins, and this I remember dearly. Well, I guess the memories are slim but the impression of it is still strong. I was a Disney lover for my entire childhood, and Disney World to me was next to heaven.  

     In college I was presented with the opportunity to move to Florida and work in the land of dreams. I couldn't sign up fast enough. I had even a best friend, Christina (go me!) do the college program with me, and we flew in together. 

     Immediately, we were placed into different housing complexes and given jobs at separate parks. We remained close friends but she found an entire group of friends in her new workplace, and began to spend more and more time with them. She included me in much of their outings, and I grew close with one of the girls of the group. However I never felt like a true member of the group but more of an afterthought. 

     (our group called ourselves 'The Dingers'. Yes we were that dorky. Apparently one of the members would yell 'ding!' every time someone said a sexual innuendo, accidentally or not. Everyone in the group began doing the same and so it was named 'the dingers'. Although this all happened outside of my presence but..... Water under the bridge ??) 

       I really was included in alot though.... and having joined another great, fun loving group of friends since escaping public school, I was really blessed to get that kind of experience. 

       Now outside of my family's shadow, I was free to fly. I began to cuss (?gasp!). (I think some people call it swearing? ?‍♂️) I found out I was a good cusser. Before long you couldn't tell me from a sailor. It became a new language for me. A new way of expression. I don't remember feeling bad for it either. By this time I had already begun to question what I was brainwashed to believe my entire life. Silly things like that cussing is a sin. It's like... What's it hurting unless I'm using those words to hurt someone? ?‍♂️ I would never do that! (hehe... Never say never ?). Or how could such wonderful, fun loving non-Christians be thrown into the fiery pits of hell, worms crawling through their skulls and shit, just because they have never heard about Jesus correctly? I mean.... Baptists are so adamant about it that they even wrote a book about how they can trace their particular denomination back to the original church of Jesus christ. The one spoken of throughout the latter part of the New testiment. The book is called the Trail of Blood and I literally can't make this shit up. (? lol) 

 

       Also out of my family's watchful eye, I discovered something a bit more impactful than my new colorful language... 

        I discovered my sexuality. 

      ... But of course, that's another story for another day.

       

       

       

[seeking_brilliance]

Chapter 5: body image. 

 

    The story of my sexuality is long, and confusing. Many twists and turns and areas which make no sense at all. Imagine living through it... 

    I retained having crushes on cute girls all the way up until moving to Disney World. There was Samantha in sixth grade. In high school I had a girlfriend. Later on I had another girlfriend. In college another one. And then a crush on a cute spunky girl after that quickly failed. Then... Disney.

     Meanwhile throughout all of that, something deeper, and truer, was bubbling up. 

     To start, let's go back to The Turn. As I became more self-conscious while puberty began, my body began to change. Before, I was a string bean. Slim and cute with wild hair. I actually never had a second thought to how my body looks. But one summer it began to change. I was getting fatter on the abdomen. Suddenly before I knew it, there was a big spare tire of fat surrounding my lower abdomen. My chest grew fatter too, and began to look like small boobs. I spent the entire rest of my life trying to fix this (sans surgery). I mean, it wouldn't be so bad, I could accept being a chubby... There's even a niche for that in the gay world, so I'd be fine. But the 'problem' is, as my midsection grew fatty, my legs, arms and face are still lean like a string bean. I have a handsome face to boot. I am grateful for that, because it gets you places (sorry, it's true). 

     I can hide this with clothing, but I have to be real careful which clothes I wear. I would love to just be able to wear anything! (Yes, ego holds me back.) In school I preferred wearing a jacket to hide it. I pined for the cooler months so that I wouldn't look like a weirdo wearing a jacket all the time. Yet I still became the weirdo because I was one  who didn't hang their jacket up for class.  

       I spent years and tons of money trying to exercise this away. (although if you can tell by my meditation struggles, I probably wasnt doing the most effective exercising). In late middle school I asked for dumbbells and eventually an abs exerciser, because all the men in the infomercials were able to go from flab to fab with this simple machine. In my twenties I got real into walking and lost so much weight I was underweight. Sadly nothing I have done gives me a flat tummy and chest. It shrinks, yes, but maintains the curvy shape of an androgynous body. 

This obsession with my body turned into an obsession with good looking male bodies. At first starting with the good looking and popular males at school, until I discovered the glory of the internet. Now of course at that young age and being the good faithful Christian that I was, I only looked at pictures of shirtless men. But I pined over the bodies and imagined if I had one.

    All the while I still never considered that I was gay. 

And then... Disney... 

... But that's another story for another day. 

 

 

    

[seeking_brilliance]

Chapter 6: Heaven

     Heaven. As I said, Disney world to me was the closest to going to heaven. Pure magic. Not just the illusion that they put on for millions of people, but it was magical to see how things are run behind the scenes too. Of course nothing is perfect (lol?) , especially when people are involved, so sometimes the illusion is broken and the magic fades. For example, the supervisors at the park range all the way to bubbly and magical, all the way down to crabby and mean. It happens. (... funny, I run a business and that exact thing can be said about myself).

    But luckily the awesome magic of Disney world was strong enough to leave the lasting impression.

     But speaking earlier of my sexuality, this heaven was a place of freedom, and self discovery. I don't remember exactly how it began, but at some point I was on dating websites to find dates with guys my age. In fact I may have done a little bit of that back in Arkansas, in the last months prior to leaving for Florida. I remember one guy who agreed to meet me out somewhere in our trailer park.. I'm sure back then my innocent self thought we were meeting for good conversation. We sat on a log or something, and then I remember him making passes at me and it scared me and I ran back home.

      But in Florida, I was free. Free to discover. To make mistakes, and to grow. I went on a few dates with cute guys. I wanted to be boyfriends right away, and didn't understand the concept of dating around. I got my heart crushed many times, over and over. Luckily that gets easier with experience, but the trade off is suppressing emotion. 

     By the time the internship was over, I was glad to get away back to Arkansas, just for the sake of starting over with relationships, now that I had experienced and learned so much. Metaphorically, I left heaven and returned home, changed. But the worst mistakes were still to come...

... But that's another story for another day. 

[seeking_brilliance]

Chapter 7: the same, but different 

     After leaving Florida, I returned back to Russellville, Arkansas where my mom lived, now in another home than before. I tried to return back to the old life, but it never felt quite right. I returned back to MBSF, where most of the group of friends remained, which I had left when I moved to Florida. They were still very dear to me, but it didn't feel the same around them. I was holding a secret, one that I could never tell, and it burned me up inside.
    I began searching for gay guys on the internet. I was 20 now and didn't have much interest in older men... past, say, like 25. LOL.  

    I met one around 18 and we began meeting up for dates and overnight stays in motels. It was fun and sneaky, and I asked him to be my boyfriend. It lasted a couple of months, but problems arose when he started expressing guilt over it and calling me at times crying that he was doing something wrong. He lived with his grandmother, and it was hard for him to hide this from her. Luckily I had become good at hiding... 
       Around this time, my dad left his mission in Venezuela and moved to Arkansas as well.  He moved to a town an hour and half away, and I began to  drive back and forth, while also making dates in his town.  I had had plenty of time to forgive him  and was ready to rebuild our relationship. 
       At the time, I was also looking for a job. One of the guys I dated worked at a restaurant, cracker barrel, and offered to help me get a job.  I was kind of enamored with him, and took up that offer  I got the job, and moved in with my father in Hot Springs.
       Thus began the next chapter of my life...
      ... But that's another story for another day