On The Day I Left Calvary Chapel

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.--- Lao Tzu

It was a Sunday morning like any other in the months of intensive delving deep into the world of all things Christianity and recovery, from Sunday services to bible studies to Christian recovery groups to various self-help groups, my life had been, was, at the time all about getting healthy.  That was my job, in fact, and it was full time.  A few years previous to that fateful Sunday, I had been diagnosed with Bipolar.

That Sunday started like any other Sunday.  I got up for church, with a tinge of anxiety that I had been battling based solely on my recent church history connected to not one but a few Calvary Chapels. Looking it back, it seemed to come from the almost enforced decree that the members come to every service possible, serve in every way possible, give until it hurts, and then maybe feel some sort of acceptance from God, the church, and also had something to do with my finally starting to realize that and feeling the opposition from the church leadership.  Something along the lines of, 'Hey, that girl seems to be thinking too much.'

So, I drove the 45 minute drive to the Calvary Chapel I was attending at the time.  I sat through the worship service, sang the songs, listened to the pastor teach his lesson on whatever book in the bible we were dutifully slogging through, based on his choice, what he thought we should be taught at the time, being hit over the head with the doctrine of not the Bible, not Jesus, but the truth as Calvary Chapel sees it.  I see that now, anyway, then it was any other day.

Except that I was miserable.  And lonely.  And only starting to see it.  In a sea of my church family, I felt lonely, disconnected, as if I didn't really belong, in fact, had never belonged.  

After the service, I walked around and tried to chat with some of the people I had called friends at this specific Calvary for the last two years, tried to make some connection behind the aimless chatter and forced uncomfortable laughter that always left me more wanting, more empty after the encounter.

Finding none, I headed to the church coffee shop, where due to the church not wanting to shell out the money to buy coffee mugs, they had asked us all to bring along our own to have while at church.  I walked straight to the shelf where my mug was, the same I had been given by a friend when I had graduated college, and I picked it up.  I said, not to myself but not really to anyone else, "I just want to take this home for awhile", and stared around, no one had noticed.  No one ever really did, ever really had.

I slowly walked to the back door.

As I made my way towards the exit, I had no clear idea what I was doing, only that it was time to leave, for the day.  Only that I probably wasn't going to enter either the front or the back doors of this church again, but that was buried deep within.  What I really knew through and through, if I had been completely honest with myself, was that I was suddenly and completely no longer comfortable there. That I had been fighting for almost five years through at least three different Calvary Chapels in the area to feel at home, find some friends, feel accepted, comfortable with myself, to discover God and who I was, find forgiveness, healing, a family...and that hadn't happened no matter how I had tried to bend myself to their will and their beliefs.  

I came to the back door and pushed the door open, getting ready to step outside, walk down the alleyway towards the gate that led to the parking lot.  Did I look back at all, hoping that a friend would call out to me, want me to come back? They didn't, I don't think I looked back either.  

I stepped outside.  Clutching my purse and my mug, with my keys at the ready, I made my way towards the back gate.  At the gate, I paused.  I actually paused.  I felt some sort of guilt for just leaving, so much of my freedom to choose had been swallowed up in the church rhetoric and control.  I did have the freedom to choose when I left the church, but I had always come back before.  Deep down, I knew I wasn't coming back anymore, even if I had yet to admit it to myself.

I pushed the gate open and let it slam behind me.

And, then I was outside, truly outside, of Calvary Chapel.

I had no idea what was to come after that.  I didn't know then how angry I was, how angry I would be for years to come, angry that something that had seemed so beautiful, so full of love, was actually so toxic.  That made me sad too.  Very sad too.  I didn't know that I would also be heartbroken for years over the loss of the friends I had lost by leaving.  I didn't know the journey that would come by taking that first step out, not just away from them, but back to myself.  That by leaving that behind I would finally and truly find myself.

I didn't know that after I walked that journey away, toiled through the years of a difficult marriage, healing from the abuse of my life, sorting through it all, that I would find freedom, freedom to love again, to love my Calvary friends who no longer call and that I would forgive them for that, for all of it, to love and reconnect with the family and friends I had pushed away during those years, find the freedom to love myself fully and completely, and find the freedom to truly know and love the Divine, and be loved by the Divine truly in return.  

I didn't know any of that then.  I just knew I had to leave, that it was time.  Then, I just took the first step.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. ---Lao Tzu

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9ayN39xmsI

Not Another Blog With Biblical Scriptures

"Forgetting what lies ahead and straining towards what is ahead, I press on..."--Philippians 3:13

Basically, I don't see anything wrong with this verse, as moving forward from the past is the only path we really have in this life.  Time on this earth is linear, we move forward into the future and as of yet time travel has yet to be accomplished.  

So, I get it.  Its healthy to not linger on the past, to forget what is behind in order to continue forward towards your goals, in order to achieve your dreams.  Good idea, sounds reasonable.  

On the surface.

But, when I read it, a whole plethora of memories not so good floods up at me.  A painful realization of a time in my life when pressing forward was more important than honoring, remembering, and cherishing the past.

During my time at Calvary Chapel, I spent most of it in Sonoma County, the place of which I grew up.  In its belief that they had the final say on the literal translation of the Bible, Calvary put an emphasis on this verse.  And, in the place where I had memories from before, old class-mates, childhood friends, and the like, it became a pit of an emotional disaster.

As I mentioned previously, Calvary was very exclusionary in their world-view, not just towards the Non-Christian or Non-believer, but even going so far as to exclude other similar minded churches from being called " Truly Christian".  In addition to that, as I have mentioned before, emotions, intellect, advanced education, reading other books besides the Bible or those not dictated by the leadership was strongly discouraged, even frowned upon.  Your spiritual walk and obedience to Christ was questioned if you partook in any of the above activities.

What this resulted in, I have discovered, is a loss of understanding of self and identity as well as the inability to think for yourself.  

From some thorough examination, I have discovered Calvarys heightened focus on the "forget what lies behind" part of this verse to be disastrous to one's understanding of self, identity, and life purpose, even one's own spiritual walk.  For at Calvary, we were persuaded that any outside relationships with non-christians, whether past friends or current, were to be dealt with in the light of "bring them to church and get them saved", for there could be no closeness with someone who did not walk with Christ, at least in the Calvary worldview.

What this resulted for me, and I think for others, was a depreciation for the experiences and relationships of childhood friends, classmates, camp friends, even families.  Now seen through the eyes of what the church taught, my past memories with these friends were skewed by the judgment of the sins committed.  You were forgiven but it was constantly, by the church, drudged up about all the bad stuff you did in your BC (before Christ, for those not familiar with the lingo) days.  Thus, you were constantly in a state of shame for these past indiscretions.  What were you to do then was to move forward to heal.  The only way to change was to forget.

But, that is not possible.  Healing from the past never works if you try to merely forget.  We all have our past issues, pains, and grievances.  Stuff we carry around with us that color our understanding of our current relationships and situations.  Not dealing with that leads us to continue the cycle of destruction over and over again.  Perhaps that's Calvary Chapels true motivation, keeping the people submissive is easier if they are constantly in a place of shame.

During my time at Calvary, I had my breakdown and subsequent diagnosis with Bipolar.  The only thing that really healed and helped me was therapy, both group and individual.  Real therapy, not Christian where you read the Bible, studied some verse, and felt better.  No, that's band-aid therapy, that's almost a kin to doing a drug to cover the pain.  Very much like, in my opinion.

During my years of therapy, I did not dwell in the past or live there.  In actually, the years I spent trying to forget I dwelt more, whether living in regret over past mistakes or reliving old hurts.  In short, I didn't move forward no matter how much I said I did.

Therapy brought about true healing and forgiveness for those wrongs and hurts I caused and had done.  Through extensive therapy, I looked back, re-wrote the past, and then released it.  

However during my Calvary years pre-breakdown, I cast aside the childhood friends I care so much for.  After the breakdown and the therapy, I sit face to face with them, remembering the lovely times of our shared pasts yet cheering each other on as we move forward to our glorious futures.

Its those long-time friends that, despite my treatment of them during the Calvary years, that have remained with me.  Its the Calvary friends that have now cast me aside, choosing themselves to continue to "try and forget".  I do so hope that works for them and if not I pray they find true healing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wBDDAZkNtk

Healing Dream

I had an amazing dream right before I woke up where I had a conversation with one of my abusers, the pastor that mentally & emotionally abused me.

We were in a movie theatre & somehow I ended up sitting next to him. At first, it was somewhat amicable but then I started opening up to him about my new life.

Me: (handing him my license with new identity) See.

Him: I do not accept this person. This is not how you were created when you were born. God doesn't make mistakes.

Me: I didn't say that. But it is who I was created to be, inside. Who you knew before was just a cover.

Him: I do not accept that. I cannot be your friend anymore. You are not right with the Lord.

Me: I feel like I'm being judged by you, without you really listening to me. My whole view on life has been transformed, who I am is transformed. The way I view life and spirituality has grown. I'm open-minded--

Him: Oh, that's a red flag. You shouldn't be that. Its of the enemy--

Me: See, that's a problem with the Christian right. They have their view of certain words, without stopping to listen to what the person is saying. In fact, they never really start to listen to the person they are "trying to save". They have their script & they stick to it, based on their impressions & preconceived notions taught in their own little world of how the world is.

Him: I cannot be a close friend of yours. I can still be happy having only a exterior only connection to you. You are not right with the Lord, you are in sin. You have wandered from the path. When you were walking with the Lord, you were so happy.

Me: Actually, I haven't. If you really wanted to listen, I would tell you that, I have truly found myself, I've truly discovered & keep discovering all that it means to be spiritual, I finally feel whole, I have finally found my life purpose & my calling, my true vocation. Lastly, when you knew me then, I was not happy at all. I am happy now.

I woke up with that last comment.

Who is God, to me?

In my past life, I was a fundamentalist.

I mean, past life in the sense, of the chapter of time prior to moving back to Oregon, the marriage, the divorce, and the name change.  I mean, fundamentalist, not in the current meaning or even in a slanderous way for my more conservative minded friends, but more in the state of emotional being I was in, wound up in striving to be perfect and spiritually impressive to those around, in short, better than the rest of them, all while feigning happiness with a plastered on smile.

In actuality, I was miserable inside.  I was miserable because I was too caught up in what others thought of me and seeking to please those around me, above me with "power over me", meaning the church.  Ultimately, I was miserable because I wasn't honest with myself, who I truly was inside, who God(ess) had made me to be but was trying to be who I was supposed to be: the good little Christian woman who teaches Sunday School, doesn't swear, goes to daily prayer meetings, and uses all the popular Christianeze lingo.

What was I not honest with myself about, ashamed about even, and what I strove so hard to hide from others was myself.  Sadly, I hid from myself even more than from others.

I've spoken about my "bisexuality" leanings.  In truth, I've spent years trying to figure this part of me out.  Would I ever truly want to have sex with a woman? The answer comes back to a resounding no.  But the fact of the matter is, I am still attracted to the women.  This isn't inherently wrong in itself.  I've spent years trying to come to terms with that.  (At one point I was, until I "found Jesus" and was suddenly more conflicted with myself and my sexuality through the influence of the controlling force that is the church.)  Ultimately, I think the new term, or rather new to me, is the concept of pan-sexuality.  No, that doesn't mean one who has sex with pans but rather one who believes that love is possible with more than one gender.  Then, it follows that I am pansexual with a preference towards that male species.  (To be completely honest, I wish that I could be a lesbian at times, merely because women these days seem so amazingly strong and awesome, but alas, its men that attract me.  I think, perhaps, its because their minor awesomeness needs my overwhelmingly powerful degree of awesomeness to seem even remotely as awesome as me, well, maybe.  Maybe, its just that I like cock, who knows?)

But, I digress...

I think also I was trying to hide my heart's desire for choice of career, choosing than to force myself into the pigeon-hole of acceptable women's role as a teacher.  This, as previously mentioned, led to my mental breakdown.  Now, that I have found my life calling as an actress, singer, and performer extraordinaire, I have found the true happiness and sense of self I always knew was there but could never fully grasp.  In short, I am living the life I always wanted but never dreamed possible.

And finally, I am not in need of anything; I am completely at peace with myself.

I think that comes from being completely honest with myself, with the Divine Spirit, and with others.  I do not wish to hide any part of myself and have no real reason for that.  I strive to be the same person on the street, out and about, as I am in my own living room.  This is a lofty goal but a worthy one at that.  I seek to live a life of love and laughter, to love my friends and family, and to make a difference in as many people's lives as possible in the short amount of time I have on this swiftly turning planet.  I desire to be remembered not only as an amazing actress but more importantly as an amazing friend.

I have reached a point in my life where I do not regret any part of my life.  Any of it.  Not one bit.  Not the fundamental crazy years, not the "sex outside of marriage", not the druggie years, not the mad mad bipolar years, not even the abusive marriage ending in divorce years.  Not any of it.  It made me who I am and I can say that I have truly tried to be real and honest with every person that played a part in those chapters of my life.  I can honestly say that to the best of my ability at the time, I sought to "live truthfully" in those circumstances (not just on-stage.)

I have truly loved, truly lived, and laughed a lot along the way.  And cried.  I have found that it is truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.  I feel very blessed with the knowledge that the depths of life I have gone through (good and bad) may be more than what others have experienced, but they have made me richer and more real.

And now, I come to the part where I answer that question, "Who is God, to me?"  I think that that is a question we all must come to at some point in our lives.  Not what the church, our family, or society tells us to believe, but who the divine is to us.  That is the prayer of my heart these days for myself and for all of my friends, regardless of backgrounds and religious leanings or lack thereof.

I never felt completely comfortable addressing God with the masculine because I honestly always believed God to be genderless, or rather, above gender.  But, I have come to the realization that at one time I needed to address God in the masculine in order to heal my "daddy issues" as it were and find a positive father figure.  Now, it seems I am drawn to "her".  For this reason, I now say (s)he or merely pray to the divine feminine.  This now I think to heal any issues I have with my mother and to finally understand my own self worth as a female.  I see this time that we are living as the time of the sacred feminine.  In my journal and prayers, I address the divine as "Lord, God, Jesus, Spirit, Goddess, Universe" and end my prayers with "in the name of the divine".  This is merely concurrent with my own new spiritual discoveries.

It comes to this.  I am happy and finally at peace.  I truly finally believe that (s)he, the Divine Spirit, is not angry with me with my past, present, or future choices.  S(he) wants to aid in my creative endeavors and continue to guide me on the journey s(he) has destined for me.  I trust in her/his will for my life completely.  I know that s(he) knows what is best for my life and more than that has a path of abundance and prosperity laid out before me.

In this, I trust.  In this, I rest.  In this, I have peace.

The Heirarchy of Togetherness

A few years ago, in California, I attended a small Calvary Chapel.  Looking back what I remember is how much of a hierarchy there was in what was professed to be a unity of believers.  All members of the congregation seemed to, in a sense, worship the pastor.  They'd repeat his jokes and repeat all  his commentary on spirituality as if he had the final final word on God.  There was no individual thought process, as far as I could see (and yes I admit even in myself) but all that was spoken by him was regurgitated out of the mouths of the "face-less,identity-less flock."

In comparison to this, I have found in my community theatre work out a real sense of camaredie as the title professes, a "hierarchy of togetherness".  With the exception of my lovely room-mate, no one obsesses over or worships the artistic director (see our fearless leader!).  We are all, in a word, in it together and for the long haul, producing in equal parts of effort united in reaching our goal of creative excellency.  (Or at close to that as we can achieve on a limited budget!)

This is in definite contrast to the church I attended in California.  While the church invited everyone to attend, it was with an exception, you must, in a sense, drink the kool-aid, in my humble opinion, not what Jesus meant when Heg said, "All are welcome".  Yes, you can join our church, if you think, act, and dress like us.  I've hinted at this before and in so many words I profess my firm belief that Calvary Chapel is a cult.  (I hear now express that if any readers are members of Calvary Chapels that they remove themselves immediately.  The pastors and leadership are not what they seem.  I can speak personally of psychological damage that has been caused by their influence.)

Not so at the Randall, we produce something that draws all manner of people with our efforts at creative passion hoping that it will reach in a more meaningful fashion than that of any church or religious affiliation because we allow for freedom of thought, beliefs, and individuality.  In my opinion, we offer something of real value.  While some have called us a clique, I concur that we are, in fact, the uncliqueish clique out there, because we accept all into our fold with the express desire that they only be their true selves.

Here's to the crazy ones...if you are, you are welcome!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SswMzUWOiJg

What's on the Inside?

The ol' meme tells us: "It's not about what's on the outside, it's what's on the inside that matters." --As of this, truly is what keeps our minds from the superficial.

Until recently, I believed myself wholeheartedly that I followed this form of thought.  Until I met someone and found myself not attracted to the physical, insomuch, as to who I perceive they are inside, the beautiful person and passionate creativity that inspires me, touches my soul, and, in a sense, gets me.  I didn't allow myself to admit this attraction because admittedly I was hung up on the exterior, an idea that I discovered in myself to be humbling.

Strangely though, I have discovered, of recent, friends that value me not for my exterior but for the who I really am inside.  In past relationships (primarily with men), I felt objectified by my 'barbie-doll' physique and made to feel unintelligent.  With women, I was immediately seen as a threat to their relationships as soon as I walked in the room and before I even opened my mouth.  Because of this, I strove to hide the blatantly obvious physical, masking it with a sarcastic, sometimes witty, sense of humor.  It often didn't work: guys, at least my assumption says, saw me as not only sexy but funny!  A win for them, I guess.

Fast forward a few years when I started going to church where I was seen as some kind of seductress because of my figure (one that I inherited from my lovely Grandma).  I would walk up to my male "brothers" of the flock to have a friendly conversation and be looked at as if I was trying to jump their bones.  This made me feel so low for the way God built me that I began trying to cover up so much of my body that I was practically wearing a burka and started massively dieting to an extreme so that my body would become more childish, in affect, I would lose my sexuality.  No matter what I did in the church, men saw me as sex-object and thus the enemy.

Until recently, when I started acting and hanging out with the crazy theatre folks, did I begin to accept how I look and finally allow my whole self, the inner me, the real me to emmerge.  And, it is in that that I find healing and acceptance.  You would think with a bunch of actors and theatre folk one would have to be more superficial yet strangely this is not the case.  With my circle of theatre and film folk, I feel as if I am really being looked at, not examined as a possible lay or an immoral enemy, but for the truth of my heart and soul.

For this reason, I am thankful that not only can I finally achieve a healthy sense of mind, heart,  and body but through that I can express myself through creative expression and emotion.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFRm2srRC64

Day Seven: God The Healer: Holy and Blameless

                                                                      Day Seven

                                   "that we should be holy and blameless before him."
                                                                     Ephesians 1:4


Well, I hope that all of you have been finding one thing to praise God about, something I admit I have been wonton to do.  True, I pray for my own heart to be surrendered and for God to put a muzzle over my mouth that I may not speak out of turn, but I seem to always forget to praise him so hold on one moment while I do that...what I just praised God for, was for the fact that not only is he healing me and us, but that in his heavenly perspective, in the future tense, we are healed and we are complete.  And yet that he is not done with us, I praise him for that, and that he will complete the work of healing that he has done in us.

I praise God for the message of today, that he calls us to be holy and blameless before him, that that is in fact a spiritual blessing that he imparts to us.  Before I set aside time to praise God, I was going to write this long epistle about how we should clean up our acts to become holy and blameless, and for the most part this is the case.  We have things we need to lay down, all of us, that get in the way of a real relationship with our Lord, however, I don't think this is what this is saying.  I believe this is saying that we are already holy and blameless.

So, yes, if you have been a faithful reader, I have an anger problem and have lashed out in the past towards people to Calvary Chapel Healdsburg, my kids at the elementary school, my old boss, and now towards my husband's friends and even sometimes my husband.  Well, if you are a faithful reader, I want you to know that through constant prayer and diligence for healing, I have been able to slowly rid myself of that anger.  And, you who read this, no doubt struggle with some vice, whatever the spiritual milieu, and I hope that through your own practices you can lay that down.  But, despite our work at ridding ourselves of our negative coping strategies, we can praise God that he already sees us as a complete work and that through our pain, trials, mistakes, he imparts to us the gift of holiness and blamelessness before him.

So, I dedicate this to all of you, no matter what the spiritual practice, willingly offer yourself up to the one who cares, for me the Father of Lights, for he sees you as that perfect and complete creation and he loves you for who you will be.  In his eyes, you are holy, blameless, clean, perfect.  In the Christian sense, Christ cleans you up by his blood when you come to him, you need not try to do it on your own.

Be blessed and find rest in God's gift for you today, and let that be the healing balm that comforts your heart.  No need to journal today, unless you need to, but I simply ask that you share what you learned today about God's gracious gift of personal holiness with someone else today.

In his Son's name, I pray for your continual healing and dedication to him.

"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."
Ephesians 2:10

Only those who obey can believe

To start out, I don't want to sound to preachy or to Christian with this edition of my blog.  I am just reading these amazing books.  I have been busy with interviews and auditions and such; so I took extra time to read three spiritual books I have been reading, plus the bible, plus worshipping through song, and plus a time in my prayer journal.  So, in this entry, I will attempt to impart the jewels that I am gleaning from each of these books.  For starters, two of these books are not, shall we say, necessarily Christian books, one of them is, and, of course, the Bible is what it is.

In an earlier blog, I wrote about standing up for what is right and fighting in my own quiet way for a better America.  To further this point, I read in 1 Timothy this morning, "I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we lead a peaceful and quiet life"...before I start to ramble about the various conspiracy theories, that I believe in fact are true about our government, I hope that I can drop to my knees in prayer for those in authority above us, that they will change their ways and commit themselves to the mighty hand of God, and come what may accept what he (or she) doles out to them.  Next, it goes on to say that living in this quiet, prayerful way is "good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth".  Before you get your panties in a bunch you nonChristians, I must share what I read in "Love without Conditions" (not necessarily of a Christian background but simply professing to be of Christ's origin) about truth: "Truth is a door that remains open.  You cannot close this door.  You can choose not to enter.  You can walk in the opposite direction.  But you can never say, "I tried to enter, but the door was closed."  The door is never closed to you or anyone else."

My desire for my family, friends, and dear readers is that all may seek after something beyond this world and find that what is true to them.  In my own searchings through scripture and spiritual practice, I have prayed that I will be a servant to all and I pray that as I recount to you, merely what these texts are teaching me, that I will in turn remain a servant to you.  In my heart, I desire to "pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness.  Fight the good fight of faith" to whatever capacity that I can attain while on this earth.  One of which is to fall to my knees, to bow my head, and to strive to be better in my prayer life.  Also, to be humble in my own understanding and discernment of others suffering; to use it as an opportunity to pray.  After all, Jesus told us not to do our good works before men, but in secret.

One thing I have learned today from the book "The Feminine face of God" is that we must often leave what is comfortable to seek out deeper meaning and spiritual growth.  This happened when I was forced to leave Calvary Chapel Healdsburg behind and set out to find some other way to fulfill my longing for God.  As I said earlier, I was without church.  I had to learn that my faith should be deeper than what I learn in a building or with others, its more than warming a spot on a pew, or memorizing a scriptures.  Its when you get alone with God and realizes that deep down He is all you need.  As I said before, because of the shattered pieces of my broken mind, I was like a child...but it is Christ that welcomes those to him as little children.  The Feminine Face of God ends the 2nd chapter with this: "it is the need for honoring the purity and openness of a child's mind.  Perhaps someday, as the Swiss psychoanalyst Alice Miller writes, we will come to "regard our children as not as creatures to manipulate or to change but rather as messengers from a world we once deeply knew but which we have long since forgotten who can reveal to us more about the true secrets of life, and also our own lives, than our parents were ever able to."  It is my desire whereever I end up teaching that I see children more as teachers for my own wellbeing than my own imparting what I need to give them.  That in fact, it can possibly be an open mindedness give in take between child and myself.

In closing I want to share something that speaks mostly to me, which might turn readers away from this blog, for all intense and purposes I mean not for that to happen.  This writing today is only to share what spoke to me in the various books I spent almost four hours reading and studying and praying over.  About a month ago, I wandered into a local bookstore and found this book with a simple cover that read "The Cost of Discipleship".  Because of its simplicity, it spoke to me and also because it was 6 bucks I bought it.  What I put here is merely for my benefit as I develop in my faith and I apologize if it does in fact convict you.  I am truly deeply engrossed in this book and there is so much insight there that it is hard to pick and choose what to share.

First, I must insist that it is a book about following and obeying Christ; that obeying is the essense of true faith.  As Bonhoeffer writes, "this situation is therefore not the consequence of our obedience, but the gift of him who commands obedience.  Unless we are prepared to enter into that situation, our faith will be unreal, and we shall deceive ourselves.  We cannot avoid that situation for our supreme concern is with a right faith in Jesus Christ and our objective is, and always will be faith, and faith alone."  Furthermore, "Only those who believe obey" is what we say to that part of a believer's soul which obeys, and "only those who obey believe" is what we say to the part of the obedient which believes."

What I want to share that is for my own personal development as a believer in Christ that goes beyond that of cheap, superficial faith is something that is so convicting that it may turn away all readers, I hope not.  Give me the benefit of the doubt, this is is more for me, than for you and yet it may speak to you, that is not my intention.  But, at the risk of losing your friendship and support, I include:

"You are disobedient, you are trying to keep some part of your life under your own control.  That is what is preventing you from listening to Christ and believing in his grace.  You cannot bear Christ because you are wilfully disobedient.  Somewhere in your heart you are refusing to listen to his call.  Your difficulty is your sins."

In other words, as it says in Love without Conditions, ""You are all masters at taking the truth and inverting it.  You have the creative ability to make anything mean what you want it to mean.  You can take yes and make it no, wrong and make it right.  That is how strong your beliefs are."

My intention of this blog was not to step on any toes but merely to show what these books, in their own ways, have speaking to me.  Please glean from then what you will and let the rest fall by the wayside.

Here are the books I am reading:
Love Without Conditions by Paul Ferrini
The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer
The Feminine Face of God by Sherry Ruth Anderson and Patricia Hopkins

Remember, my beloved friends and readers, you are in my heart.  If you need prayer, don't hesitate to ask.  I love you all and thank you for your support.  Whatever you decide to do, if you turn away from these words because I appear to Christian ( I cannot hide my true faith), then I hope all will work out for you in your path.  If you decide to continue to read, I can only pray that my words will continue to heal, to inspire, and to bring hope.

With endless love, I close this entry.

No Matter Where I Go, There I am

"Get the fuck away from me! I want nothing to do with you!  Go away! Go away!"

Those are the words I screamed at God those ending months of the year 2007.  I felt alone and wanted it that way.  I didn't want to feel the pain or remorse anymore.  Sleep wasn't coming so well.  I would lie awake with my skin crawling like that song "I just want to feel safe in my own skin" by Dido.

Randy and I played the cat and mouse game.  One of us, usually him, would call wanting sex, seduce the other, and then get really guilty and say never to call again.  I know what most of you have heard if you around then, that I was the one doing the calling.  But, in actually it was Randy!  Randy is insecure and wants to appear super spiritual so he told everyone, "look, she's crazy and obsessed with me, she won't stop calling me and trying to get me to have sex with her."  When actually, he would call me all horny and depressed and me being as depressed and heartsick and lonely would go along with it, well, then he would say, "oh i got to get off the phone, call me back in twenty minutes."  So, I would call him back in twenty minutes, and since he told everyone I was the obsessed one, his sister or someone would answer and tell me never to call again.  I would get depressed for this and just as a week was going by when I was starting to feel better, I'd get another call from Randy and the whole thing would start all over again.  In the end, Randy went to the Pastor at our church and friends and told them how manipulative and seductive I was being and how he was the victim.  Well,  now, the truth comes out, Randy, you are a victimizer as much as a victim...and definitely not a perfect Christian saint.

Finally, that died down and I started dragging myself to churches again.  But, I had new found sleep disorder.  I would take my med, which supposedly would cause sleep, and not be able to sleep for two hours or at all.  So, I tried there prescription meds but still nothing, just wide awake staring at the wall for two hours...so I gave up and started drugging myself with over the counter sleeping pills...All I really wanted to do was sleep and not feel.

My psychiatrist took me off a med at the time that had made me feel fat and lethargic.  I was very hesitant about this because well, I had had such a breakdown so recently I was afraid it would happen again.  But, she explained that the drug itself might cause heart failure, diabetes, etc, oh, and prolactin, which is women who aren't pregnant producing breastmilk, so I decided why not go off of it?  When I was on it, I had gained a substantial amount of weight.  Okay, I was 134 but I had never weighed that much.  And that really isn't that much except my stomach just stuck way out and I had a mother that constantly told me "yeah, you need to lose weight", "looks like you have picked up some extra pounds" or whatever slanderous rude remarks she could make about my weight.  (In reality, 134 is not that fat, its not that healthy either, but its not worth ruining your self esteem over, which is just what happened to me, what my mom did.)

So, I went off this med and since I had been dieting and working out incessantly, I started losing weight.  I dropped 18 pounds in two months.  I felt great at 115.  You would think I would have stopped there but I couldn't.  The emphasis on me that I had gotten so fat freaked me out that anything that had a calorie count above 90 was considered dangerous.  I started skipping meals, eating less, counting calories...no wonder I couldn't sleep at night.

Meanwhile, the emergency med they put me on was on such a high dosage that it literally backed me up and made me nauseas when I ate.  So, why eat if it makes me sick?  Its helpful when you don't want to eat when you can't eat too.

I tried many churches during that time.  The first of which was an Assembly of God.  It was a very strange experience.  Very friendly bunch, I was definitely the youngest.  They all dressed up for church and played the organ.  But, I remember listening to the music and seeing Jesus kneel before me with his arms around me, singing to me...

In the car after church, I prayed and cried and told Jesus that I loved him and he, remember I had yelled at him, said, "I always knew you did."

I didn't really go to church that much during that time but stayed home and sulked.  The Bible was still the hardest thing to read.  I even bought a child's bible because that is where I felt my mind could understand.  I was praying desparately.  I remember lying in my bed, crying, imagining a spiritual Frank Peretti style battle going on about me...Angels and demons fighting for me and God speaking to me softly through it saying, "cast them off."  Over and over again, I'd almost succumb to the darkness of my evil mind and very Frank Peretti of me even see the little demon gently stroking my hair saying, "join us, join us" and then at the last moment, I would cast him out.  You know, God does always get the victory.

My Cradle-Catholic Grandma got me to go to church.  Its a tradition since I was a child that this set of grandparents take me to church.  Well, before my grandpa died and then I became a Christian and neither of them could drive, I would drive them.  Well, this thanksgiving my Grandma came and the two of us woke up and drove to the little Catholic church that could in Asti, California.  It was there that through the hymnals the Lord met me.  Never again will I say that Catholic churches aren't spirit-filled.  This one moved me to tears.  I cried out all my pain and realized the faithfulness of the Lord.  How desparately I needed to hear that message that the Lord is forever with me.

The next month, right before Christmas, Randy came back into my life.  And yes, we played that game again for a few months until right before President's weekend (February 2008) when he went and shall I say, blabbed to all "his" friends what I seductive crazy ex I was being and that he was the victim.  But, keep in mind, he was doing all the calling.  Even Pastor Chris believed him.  I also sent a major breakthrough email to my friend Carol, Pastor Chris, and Randy detailing how I had made the choice to go home and take care of myself.  In the email, I outlined three choices.  I was describing how suicidal I was and how I wanted to die.  The three choices were to go to Calvary Chapel Healdsburg to talk to Chris, throw myself to the mercy of the sharks off the golden gate bridge, or go home, have dinner, and go to bed.  I chose to go home and go to bed.  Anyone can see now that was a major victory.  I chose to take care of myself.  Well, Pastor Chris read what he wanted to read and called me "manipulative".  He read it and failed to see that I hadn't come to the church at all.  Here I was explaining a major breakthrough in my recovery where I took the initiative to take care of myself, and he called me manipulative.  The next day I went to therapy with him, where he and my therapist talked about how manipulative I was and he looked me in the eye and said, "I can't be your friend right now."  And, all of this over a misunderstanding.  At the moment, I had not the words to explain myself and probably wouldn't have been listened to anyway.

A few weeks later, my therapist of a year, who I had grown to love and trust, labeled me antisocial and told me to find another therapist.  Well, I couldn't afford another therapist and I was stuck going to Kaiser, because that's what my parents wanted.  See, I was on Cal-cobra with the school, when the school switched to Kaiser, I wanted to do state insurance so I could stay with my same psychiatrist but my parents advised against saying that would bring too much shame on me later on in life.  So, I miserably went to Kaiser.  Kaiser therapy sucks!  I had a therapist for a couple months on and off.  I would go to her and want to start talking about what was going on in my life and then she would just say without letting me finish my sentence..."just do this."  My psychiatrist was all right though but since have realized that she put me on a combination of meds that actually counteract each other.  She thought she did a lot of good for me and I really do appreciate the time I spent with her.  But, it was me buckling down, doing the work, fighting the fight, and keeping the faith that got me through.  (Oh yeah, I kid you not, she looked like Doctor Ruth!)

For along time at Kaiser, I had no diagnosis.  I had no idea what I was or what the fuck was wrong with me.  I talked to my psychiatrist who claimed that she didn't diagnosed.  I knew in my  heart of hearts that I wasn't antisocial and prayed to God that that wasn't it.  Antisocials are sociopaths, they have no conscience.  Everyone I was talking to told me, yeah, I believe you have a conscience.  I mean, I thought I wasn't sleeping at night because of the damage I had done to those at Calvary Chapel Healdsburg.

Also, at that time, I became homicidal.  According to my husband, he remembers me telling him that I thought about killing people back 8 years ago when we dated before.  But, this was more serious.  I actually believed that this girl friend of mine from church had stolen Randy from me and I wanted to kill her.  I had a plan.  I was going to buy a gun, sneak into the church on Wednesday night Bible study, make her strip off her clothes in front of everyone (cuz if he fucked her, why can't i?), stick the gun up her vagina, and then pull the trigger....and then if that didn't work...I would put it to her brain and kill her that way.  Pretty sick, huh? I told my psychiatrist, who called Pastor Chris, who told the girl...and yadadadada the police have me on file for crimininally insane.

I had to get out of town.  I was obsessed with Scarlett O'hara at the time and I pictured myself running into the church office exclaiming to the pastor, "i must get them back.  how can i get them back?  I know, I'll go home, home to Ashland (Tera), and I will find someway to get them back....after all, tomorrow is another day".


So, I drove to Ashland.  With the alittle bit of money I had left from teaching, I actually rented a room at the Columbia Hotel.  See, that's a big step forward.  I was so proud of myself.  I didn't sleep on a friend's couch.  I actually rented a room.  (That's ten points for me, Malaenuh!)  Of course, I ended up spending all my money in Ashland and going broke but I learned one thing...I still got my Jesus Seekers, God would forgive me and take me to heaven even if I had done these horrible things, and I found a magnet that got the recovery ball rolling:


"What would you attempt to do if you knew you would not fail?"


I read it and said, "Well, I'd get better."  So, I bought it and it hangs on my refridgerator to this day.

Driving home was painful but there was a little bit of that ol' college try that Julia always seemed to hang onto.  That Ashland magick had gotten into my blood and I knew there was nowhere to go but up from now on.  I also knew from that trip to Ashland that there was no doubt about it, I was going to move back there.

I started reading everything I could get ahold of; every recovery book, every autobiography.  I started going to church again at a foursquare church in Windsor.  Lovely people but everytime I sat through a service my mind kept racing and thinking about what was going on at Calvary Chapel Healdsburg so I missed out on the entire message and would cry to different supportive individuals all the time.  But, I started doing this Beth Moore "Step Up" bible study.  From that Bible study, I remember God writing a promise on my heart, specifically, "I will awake you every morning with love."

For the strangest reason I was stuck in the Apostle Paul's books.  I kept trying to go other places in the Bible but the more and more I got drawn back to Paul.  I kept asking God, why, Paul?  And I think it was because, in essense, I, like Paul, had persecuted Christians so whatever valuable lessons he had learned and was sharing on grace, I needed to learn.

I developed a deep appreciation for grace and mercy.  I believe grace is a land of freedom and mercy is the freedom from the places we deserve to go to.  I started admitting I had an angry problem and I started praying this prayer, as much as I could..."Lord, I bring that thought into captivity into the obedience of Jesus Christ.  Help me to give out grace."  I also started biting myself when I would scream or do something wrong.  So, between the time of prayers or biting, some good stuck.

But, one scripture of Paul's, among many, stands out and has been the emblem of many throughout these years:

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."  2 Cor.  1:3-4

Throughout all the suffering, I knew that God's love, grace, and mercy would see me through; that, literally, what didn't kill me would make me stronger.  So, that's what I did, I got stronger.  I learned to stand on my own two feet.  I learned not to be afraid to be alone.  I learned more importantly how to give and give and then when to say no and step back and let the Lord do his work.

And through it all, there have been the faithful friends and family; friends that I could not even imagined I could have done it without...and yet, the story isn't over yet...I have a few years to go...but quickly, a thank you to Tony Fleisher, Scott Stanford, Malaena Taylor, Will Richey, Jim Degan, Koiwu Beyan, Lj Millick, Luke Frechette,Matthew Ledoux, Crystal Frechette, and all those Calvary Chapel Healdsburg who are no acquaintances who remain constant prayer warriors...thank you, and as the song goes, may I return the favor...

the adventures of 12 step begins tomorrow...

Too Much Coffee on a Saturday Morning or Early Afternoon

Yesterday, I told you about the start of the Bipolar experience.  Today, I continue the journey.

I started the school year well.  I had fun setting up my classroom and picking out lots of colorful pictures, posters, and teaching tools to help aid my students learning.  However, a lot of good that would come when the teacher became unable to teach due to an overload of emotional turmoil.

The Lamictal and lexapro were a perfection combination and the stressload went well.  The kids were angels.  I would give them work and they would excitedly get to work.  I'd turn on a little music and they would sing quietly as they worked.  I had a wonderful aide who helped immensely.  Everything was going well.  Even Karissa and I seemed to be picking up the pieces.  She came by once after school and we went out to the Starbucks after school.  (Yeah, I know all you Oregonites how Starbucks is the evil empire, but for some reason CC goers love their Starbucks!)  So, we went, we prayed, and we shared our hearts.  It was a really sweet time of friendship and we seemed to really connect.  About that time, I told my psychiatrist that things were going so well and her advice "time to change the med."

Looking back on it, it seemed like the craziest thing someone would think to do, I mean, why change a good thing?  But, we cannot foresee the future and I didn't think anything would come of it.  After all, doctors know best, right?

Right about that time, the school lost some of its funding and had to let go of my aide.  I pretended everything was okay but I was frantic and the loss of the antidepressant left me desparate.  I could no longer hold it together anymore.  I cried on the way to school every morning, cried during breaks to my boyfriend, would climb underneath my desk after school to hide, couldn't control my anger outbreaks in front of my students...yet, however, the students continued to love me, I have no idea why.  Maybe, its because deep down they saw that I really cared, that deep down that's what anyone that loves me sees, that although I may have the biting and quick temper, I really have a heart of compassion and really want to do what is right.

This ended up in putting me on an leave of absence from work for health related reasons.  Up to that point, I was in denial that I couldn't hold down a job.  After that, things went to hell in a hand basket with Randy when one day at church I tried to race away from church and he stopped me by standing in front of my car, of course, it looked like I tried to run over him.  He decided that he wanted to step back from the romantic part of our relationship but the problem was, he still held my hand, still bought me little gifts, still paid for meals, and even some time would tell me he loved me.  Then, when I would return the expression, he would step back and claim, "Look, we are just friends."  I wish to God in retrospect that he had broken up with me then because it confused the hell out of me and I believe made things worse in the long run.  But, to his credit, I think he was just scared that I would do something dangerous if he officially called it off.  Yeah, I guess he was just protecting me.  But, at what cost to both of our psyches?

I did the manipulative thing many a time and would tell people I was going to kill myself.  Part of me really meant it and was a cry for help but after doing it so many times, people stopped trusting me.  Also, after calling them up and screaming at them, sending angry emails, people started distancing themselves...more and more and more...until I was alone, but are we ever really alone?

In April, my sister and her new boyfriend were coming from Australia.  I looked at her life, how successful she was, and became very depressed.  When my parents went to pick them up at the airport, I took two aspirin, called my pastor, and before I knew it the firemen, police, and emt were banging down my door.  I was carted off to the hospital because of a suicide attempt but really if I had explained to anyone what harm could two pills do.  See, I got scared.  The thing about me and suicide is, I have this thing about suicide ambilivance, or had.  I have a fear of life but a fear of death.  I don't really want to live but what does death hold for the suicide victim.  I remember asking my pastor what happens to people if they commit suicide.  He had no clear answer for me.

The visit to the hospital left me with a huge ambulance bill and a ER bill.  However, my dad being a doctor got the ambulance bill knocked down to zero because hey, he's a good doctor.  If only they knew what he is like at home!

The angry writing began.  I started thinking of ways I could freak out my ex boss and sort of ex/sudo boyfriend.  Picking him up at work and driving him to the school and slitting my wrists in front of them.  I wrote over and over in my journal:

I want to die!
I want to die!
I want to die!
I want to die!
I want to die!

During that time, I turned 29 and remembered as a little girl when my friend, Michael Jean Tovani turned 8 on her 8th birthday and called that her golden birthday.  Then, recalling at such a tender age that I would celebrate my 29th birthday in that way.  29 on the 29th.  Lots of people showed up, except for Karissa, who really wanted to come but who I had emailed and specifically asked  not to come...yeah, I was a bitch.  And when my other best friend, Suzanne, was late, I called and left a mean message about how rude it was to do that to me.  She showed up right away.  Also, a manipulative bitch.  Why did these people even give me a chance?

Things went well at that party, except for the fact that I wanted to get drunk.  But, we played party games and ate cake and laughed and everyone had a good time.  Pastor Chris prayed a specific prayer for me.  How lovely!  I guess he really cared.  Go figure.

A few days after that, I called the school and told them that I would kill myself in front of my former boss.  The police were called and I ended up with my stuffed pig, Piggy, at Northridge; the emergency mental illness facility in Sonoma County.  They talked to me for awhile and let me go, seeing as I was fine.  I just would have these little breaks, I call snaps, where I lapse into poor judgment and on an impulse say or do things that get me into trouble.  This got me a restraining order.

Being the good little Christian girl, I had been taught that sex before marriage was a definite no no.  However, my elite university boyfriend and I had had sex, Bill and I had had sex, and so on and so forth.  I had always repented and moved on but never forgot the feeling of illicit sexual acts.  I remember when I thought about dating a good Christian virgin man, thought that when we got married and had sex first the time, would he even know to go down on me or would he be so experienced that he wouldn't even know how to come inside....and me, trying to be good, would I be too embarrassed to explain?  Anyway, I started having sexual fantasies about Randy, about Will (the counterpart to Bill from the Oregon cafe days, only the one I didn't love).  Yeah, I seduced Randy.  We had sex and it began this cursed romance of come a little closer, guilt, repent, guilt...until finally he broke it off two days before our second annivarsary on guess whose birthday...Bills!  I remember thinking what the irony, my supposed second love broke up with me on my first love's birthday.  But, why in the world did I remember Bill's birthday anyway?  I had gotten over him, hadn't I?

The depression deepened to an almost unbearable level.  I was looking for work and this was just at the beginning of the unemployment crisis so was getting a lot of rejections and not taking them so well.  To add insult to injury, my favorite grandpa, who taught me the value of a good joke, died of complications of alzheimers that very month.  I kept calling Randy, I kept sending out emails.  I was hallucinating.  In college during the trying times of theater major years, I would see blue feathers everywhere that meant danger on every side.  Well, now in this time of intense darkness, the feathers returned...with a vengeance.  There was this blue feathered eye, pure evil, that lived inside my heart.  It exploded and blue feathers floated all over my body.  They forced me to say and do to things that I didn't want to say.  I didn't know what to do.  I tried to tell my therapist who just explained, feathers are protective.  What the fuck?  These feathers were going to kill me.  I imagined surgeons doing heart surgery, finding this eye, contemplating it, and then putting it back in there.  Help me, help me, I am drowning.

Around labor day, I sent out this email to sabotage a bible study.  A few years before at CCH, when things were going well, I had helped start a college and career age bible study.  I knew it was going to start that night so I sent an email around telling everyone that the Pastor and his family had had a death in a family and needed time to mourn.  Crazy, but I thought it would work.

The Pastor was shocked and the next day asked me not to return or contact anyone from the church indefinitely.  The pain overwhelmed me and I decided to numb myself with three xanaxs.  I didn't want to feel.  I drove to work and on the way home, almost a sleep at the wheel, I got arrested and put in jail.  Coming home, I had been given a DUI and had my license taken away.

Things weren't going to be that bad.  A few days before the email, I had gone to see my psychiatrist and she listened as I told her about the emails of hate, the blue feathers, the immense feeling of dread, the incessant crying "please put me in a hospital" (to which my parents ignored), and she put me on a drug that is labeled "emergency only"...so after the fall, after the DUI, my head suddenly cleared...but after suffering with such agony, my brain was fried and I was like a child.  To top it off, I felt far from God.  I had no friends and felt separated from God.  I started screaming at him, telling him to leave.  He would say, "You are pushing me away too, it won't work, I can take as good as  you can give."

So, more tomorrow on the slow progress of recovery...