Another One of Those Days

Today is one of those days.

I got some blog post ideas that I've been trying to work on, but they're not going anywhere. I have my suspicions as to why (gloomy weather, lack of self-esteem, anxiety over coming out and wondering if it was a mistake), but knowing why isn't helping anything. My blog posts (asides from this one) aren't getting written. They're just sitting in my damn Google Drive, unfinished, which irks the hell out of me.

I want to be useful. I want to do something with my life. I'm tired of being the stupid little kid who's really shy and ends up slurring her speech when she does actually end up talking, therefore sounding like the biggest idiot ever. I'm tired of having anxiety. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of people using me as a doormat, then playing victim when I scream at them for stepping on me and hurting me. I'm tired of being ostracized and ignored. I'm tired of feeling like I'm nothing. I'm tired of being stupid and useless.

So yeah. There you have it.

Queer in Christ

I wish I could say that I was completely comfortable in my own skin. I wish I could say that I’m not utterly and completely terrified to have my Twitter profile as “This odd combination of a writer, dancer, and a SDA homeschooled teenager who posts bits of faithfullyLGBT stuff here. Yeah, it's weird. #queerinChrist”

I trust that one day, I’ll be able to say those things.

But for now, I’m scared. Really damn scared. To be out to my mother is one thing. To be out to people in my church is another. It’s not that I’m walking up to them and saying “Yo, I’m queer.” My tweets and Twitter profile will tell them all that they need to know.

Call my new Twitter profile a rash move. Maybe it is. But there’s something frustrating and depressing about hiding. It’s not always “need-to-know” information, but when I’ve had people that I thought truly cared about our friendships suddenly cut them off because of this. And that really fucking hurts. So if there’s a chance people are going to leave me over this, I want to get it over with instead of forming deep, platonic emotional attachments to them.

Because there’s something really hurtful when a friend of 5+ years calls me “dishonest” because I never told her about this stuff in the first place.

In a way, there’s something relieving about being upfront and honest about everything. But that doesn’t negate the fact that making myself vulnerable to people’s possible harsh criticisms and questions. After what former friends have done, I won’t allow myself to hope too much for positive reactions (i.e. them not breaking off our friendships.)  

The only thing I can do is pray, rely on the support of my amazing Twitter friends, and hope that I can handle whatever happens. I can’t control people’s reactions and whether or not they’ll have a Christ-like attitude. All I can do is keep up a Christ-like attitude towards them no matter their reaction. I won’t stoop down to the level of those who choose to reject me and say ridiculous, untrue things. (“I can never hope understand why you changed or why you lived a lie to my face, but I do understand that our friendship can't go on. I don't know you, the girl I have called my very best friend for almost 7 years.” “The Kelley I know was loving, kind, honest, and loved God. But the real Kelley is bitter, angry, and hates God and everything that you once stood for.” “God is waiting for you to turn to Him. He never left you, and He never will. Never forget that.”)

No matter what, I know that God doesn’t make mistakes. They love me just the way I am. I’m queer in Christ and it’s beautiful.

Love Thy Queer Neighbor

(KJV) Mark 12:31 And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.

While browsing the internet back a couple of months ago, I ran across someone by the name of Steven Anderson, a pastor in Arizona. Someone had uploaded a video of his sermon from November 30th 2014 called “Pastor calls for killing gays to end AIDs”

Despite the scary title, I was intrigued and watched the video anyways. This is one of the things he said:

“Because if you executed the homos like God recommends, you wouldn’t have all this AIDs running rampant.”

There’s a lot of problems with this so-called sermon (especially with that quote), but the one I want to address is love. Or rather, lack thereof.

In the NT, Jesus preaches a lot of love. Lots of love. Lots of forgiveness. Way different from the OT.  He gave us an example to follow, yet how many of us actively work to emulate His example? I’m not saying we’re going to be able to maintain that example 24/7. We’re only human. But I think that for those of y’all that are in leadership positions within the Christian ministry, y’all need to work extra hard. You’re in a position where you’re (supposed to be) representing God and Their Word. You need to be thinking real hard about your sermons. What sort of message are you sending out to the world? What image of God are you giving others? (Non-believers included.)

Because I personally don’t see how demeaning people by throwing out slurs and telling them that they should be stoned in order to have an “AIDs-free Christmas” is going to bring them to God. And for those of us who are both gay and Christian or bi and Christian, how do you think we feel? Some of us are still struggling to accept our intersecting identities as gay or bisexual Christians. Your hateful (and frankly, quite frightening) rhetoric isn’t helping matters. If anything, we feel even more rejected and lost. By screaming for our deaths, you’re not bringing us any closer to God. Why? Because the only attitude you’re exhibiting is hate, and since you’re a man or woman of God, then God must also hate us. Or so we think.

I’d like to ask pastors like Steven Anderson to consider what they’re saying, and maybe, hopefully, seek out some civil discourse with those in the LGBT and LGBT Christian communities. See what our side of the story is. See that we’re not really all that scary. Some of us profess the same faith in God that you do.

And above all, follow the words of James 1:19-20: Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.

"Are You Okay?" No, no I am not. (TW: Suicide...)

I'm going to be honest. 100% honest. I'm not going to downplay anything anymore. I'm going to tell it like it is, no matter how much it hurts. 

I'm hurting. I've been suffering from urges to self-harm and the occasional suicidal fantasy. There are some people around me right now who've treated me in a negative way because they don't like me since they know the truth of who I am; my identity, what and who I'll always be. Only two people who know the truth are still my friends and are still willing to treat me the same way they did before they figured out the truth.

My dad died 42 days ago. I keep dreaming of him. I miss him so much.

My relationship to my mother is breaking down more and more. I'm tired of fighting with her. I'm tired of her wanting me to be something I'm not. I'm tired of hearing that she told my siblings that she doesn't want them going through the same phase and path that I'm going through. I know what she's talking about. And it makes me upset. Not all of my choices in the past year have been negative ones. Becoming my own person and not a mini-her isn't a bad thing.

My best friend left me earlier this month because she discovered my sexuality. And yes, for those of you who don't know, I'm bisexual. For my real life Twitter buddies, if you didn't know this, well...I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. It's no one's business unless I decide otherwise. Right now, I'm just going to come out and say it so we can get any drama over with: I'm bisexual. If you have a problem with it, just go. I'm tired of being treated like I'm the bad guy for hiding this from people.

So for those of you who've been asking if I'm okay....here's my answer. And it's no. I'm sorry I haven't been more honest and said that I wasn't, but I'm trying to be a brave person.

That brave mask has cracked.

Memories of My Dad

For the sixteen years that I had the privilege of being with my father, I always knew him to be a quirky, funny, and lovable guy. In 2005 after what I like to call "the incident" (some of my closer friends know what I'm talking about), he got post-traumatic stress disorder and became disabled within a few years due to the back injury accompanying "the incident". Even so, he still loved me and my other siblings and spoiled us rotten despite what little income we had. He never took out his anger on us, despite how awful his PTSD and depression was. There were few times when I saw him truly irritable, and those times were because the pharmacy wasn't giving him his Cymbalta refill. But even then, he'd ask for some alone time and step outside.

That man possessed a divine patience that I can only hope to one day have.

When I was 14 years old, I was struggling with my own issues (depression, SH urges). He was always my listening ear. Without complaint, he just sat there and listened. Then, when I was finished, he'd offer me advice and I calmed down. He could always rationalize things with me. I learned a lot from him. I learned how to cope, how to see things in a different life, and for the most part I learned how to accept that there were some things that I just could not change.

All my life, he was there for me. He made it to every dance performance (or rehearsal if he couldn't make the performance for some reason) up until this year, when he started chemo. There was never a time where he complained when I needed to talk to him. He'd exhaust himself doing whatever my siblings and I wanted and making sure our needs were met.

I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss his guidance, his wisdom, and his laugh. Dear God, his laugh. These past three years, I rarely heard him laugh, but when he did, everyone started laughing. We treasured his laugh.

But he's at peace now. The Stage 4 bone cancer was the worst part of the cancer. I don't think it was as painful when it was in his lungs and liver. The bone cancer had gotten to the point where it kept him bed-ridden, moaning and twisting into different positions to alleviate some of the pain. :(

As much as it hurts to have him gone, I know it's for the better. He's pain-free and he deserves nothing less. <3

Thoughts on My Dad's Oncoming Death

My dad is dying, and I say that I'm okay with this, that I've accepted this because he'll finally escape the hellish pain that's been wracking his body for the last month due to the cancer spreading to his body.

But I am not "okay". I'm losing one of the few people in my life who was always my listening ear and always there for me. He is selfless, he is kind, and he loved me. He never yelled at me, raised a hand to me, and he is so forgiving. So very damn forgiving. I never deserved his seemingly endless forgiveness.

I am hollow inside. I've had enough struggles with depression in my life and it's flaring up again. It's been hard for me to eat and be motivated to do the simplest of tasks, like brushing my hair. Sometimes I don't want to do anything at all. It doesn't seem like it'd be worth it.

My dad and I had so much planned. We were going to repair our Jeep, for starters. It was the vehicle he taught me how to drive in and I love it. But now, we'll never get to work on it together. I'll have to carry out our plans and dreams for it by myself.

I'm going to miss him. But somehow, I'm going to have to go on without him.

My dad is dying....

                                                                 -Timeline-

June 1st: My mom broke the news to one of my sisters and I that Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer sometime in April.

July: He becomes more and more immobile. At one point, he collapses coming inside but manages to keep conscious and crawls over to his chair.

Somewhere at the end of July: Complains of chest pains and is rushed to ER. We think his heart stopped for a moment and his defib implant kicked in.

August 4th: Admitted to hospital for debilitating back pain.

August 5: Bone cancer discovered, hence the lesions on his spine. Radiation treatment starts.

August 15th: He comes home, claiming he "wants to die in his bed instead of in a hospital."

August 16th: I meet the Hospice nurse.


It's been crazy since that night on June 1st. We've had our good moments and our bad, but we've managed. We always have. But coming home on Saturday to hear my mom crying and telling us that my dad was dying wasn't what I expected. I never expected him to come out of the hospital worse, or for his cancer to progress so quickly.

Eventually I found out about his liver cancer, but at the time it didn't have too much effect on me. I was told that the chemo was going very well and that one of his tumors were gone, which shocked his doctor (in a good way). But they only just discovered the bone cancer and there's not much they can do for that, from what I've heard.

It's been hectic here and honestly, I'm exhausted. I woke up this morning and wanted to pretend that everything which happened yesterday was just a nightmare. That my dad would continue to defeat his lung and liver cancer.

But I can't ignore reality. He's dying. We're never going to repair the Jeep together like we planned on, he's never going to see my end of the dance season recital again, and he's never going to see my first child. And that really, really hurts to think about.

It hurts even more to think about my siblings, though. They're younger and God only knows how they're managing. The four year old knows that Dad's dying, but she's morbidly calm about it. Yet I can't stop thinking about the fact that she's going to grow up without her daddy. He won't see her recitals either, and that hurts to think about, because I love her and I wanted that for her. I know how good I felt seeing my dad at my recitals and competitions. But she won't have that anymore.

I keep reminding myself that I can't focus on what we were going to do with him in the future, though. I need to embrace the present and make the most of my final days with him. As much as it hurts to say all that, I can't ignore it or make it anything less. It is what it is. My dad is dying. And I'm going to miss him.

He lived a good, long life which he spent helping those in need, from whistleblowing on a prisoner abuse situation at a prison he worked at to helping those financially in need. And he always did it cheerfully. I hope I'm like that even as I face the uglies of adulthood in the next few years.

And even if he doesn't make it to his 61st birthday and 25th wedding anniversary next month, I know that he'll at least be pain-free. He deserves nothing less.