Sweet Salt
How I have missed ocean breezes and crashing waves. I have been away from the coast for far too long. Today I am exhausted and yet I feel refreshed. The salty air and the warm sun make me come alive. But, even more, I am refreshed by the company of friends. Not just any friends, but the ones who will be there always--even when they aren't physically present.
It has been many months since I have even managed to email Brenda, but she is a friend that will remain such forever. It has been great to celebrate with her. She and Brian are beautiful together.
It was also good to catch up a bit with Justin and Rick. It is funny that we started on the same path and now I am in such a different place than they are. In a way I am jealous. It would be nice to just have a job somewhere and to be able to "settle down". On the other hand, I would probably get bored if I wasn't running around like an insane woman trying to do eighteen things at once. Of course, boredom might be more becoming than I know. I can't really remember what being a "normal" 9 to 5-er was like. I have been doing the work/school/mom bit for too long. I am excited for next year when I can cut my roles down by a third.
And now my mind begins to succumb to my exhausted body and to desire sleep. (Despite the less than comfortable mattress of my little motel room--which, combined with spinal trauma from multiple rollercoaster rides, will leave me feeling old in the morning.) I must now get some sleep so that I can have enough energy to lie on the beach all day tomorrow! Ah, vacation is nice. If only it lasted longer.
Noises in the Night
There are always strange noises that come from the apartment above mine in the wee hours of the morning. Often I do not hear them because I am asleep (it is amazing how much older you are in your thirties than in your twenties) long before the wee hours. But, on those few nights when my brain outlasts my body and I sit up late at night I am disturbed by what sometimes sounds like music, sometimes sounds like sex, and sometimes sounds like someone put cinderblocks in the dryer just to see what would happen. The worst is when it sounds like all three going on at once. That is what it sounds like now.
When I have insomnia the last thing I want to deal with is the strange noises that come from above. But I guess the noises that come from within might be more disturbing, were I able to hear them above the noise of the upstairs apartment. Maybe the strange noises are a blessing in disguise.
Brain Scan Trauma
Tonight in class we looked at a bunch of scans that show brain activity--or, often, inactivity--in different people with different disorders. The question that now haunts me is, "what do you do when your brain doesn't work?" My brain does not work. We looked at the brain of an addict, the brain of a person with ADHD, and the brain of a person with PTSD. I am all of these people. So the odds of any portion of my brain being working at the appropriate level is slim to none.
There were big holes in the image where no blood was flowing in the frontal section of the ADHD brain. The addict brain just looked like Swiss cheese with several areas showing no activity whatsoever. The brain of one with post traumatic stress actually was too active in certain sections. If you add those together you get a big chaotic lump where a healthy brain ought to be.
So now what?
Is there hope for my brain? Apparently the answer is yes. Experts in neurology talk about the fact that the brain can adapt itself and can create new neuropathways to bypass the parts of the brain that have been adversely affected. But if that is the case, who really cares if your brain looks like Swiss cheese?
On one hand it is good to know the way my brain functions. On the other hand, I am more disturbed about the quality of my brain than I have been ever before. It is disturbing to contemplate that your brain is somehow substandard or less than healthy. And if my brain is substandard or unhealthy, what does that say about the brains of millions of people who have less education and sensibility than myself? Can a messed up brain actually be capable of achieving graduate degrees and wrestling with philosophical concepts and teaching others and proclaiming the Word of God? I suppose it must be capable of such. But if it is capable of such, is it fair to understand it as messed up in the first place?
I think that my brain works just fine. I seem to get by alright with the brain I've got, whether or not it is normal. I will not worry about it until it fails me.
More Sex
Wow. This class gets under the surface of my skin and gnaws at me. I have not felt such discontent and frustration for some time. Who knew that sexuality and gender would be such a topic of question and argument and struggle? I certainly thought it would be more clear cut than it is. And I certainly thought that the people in my class would share my progressive views--after all, it is Fuller. But I was wrong on both counts. And I am frustrated on both counts.
I don't understand why maleness and femaleness have to be such a big deal. We kept coming back the the idea of the "bell curve" and saying that this tool expresses the average norm of maleness and of femaleness. Then we took this silly test that was supposed to show us the differences between males and females. Well...If the bell curve and the tests are correct I am really a male, despite my ample female anatomy, and Matt and Andrew are really female. I cannot understand why we continue to force distinctions between male traits and female traits when a huge portion of the population cannot and will not fit neatly on the bell curve. I cannot understand why the professor of a sexuality and gender issues course refers to leadership as "maleness". If I am called to leadership then am I called to be male? I have a freaking uterus people--a working, baby bearing uterus--I cannot be male! So the idea of something other than anatomy or hormones being male makes no sense.
I reject the bell curve. I refuse to believe that some qualities "belong" to males and others "belong" to females. Yes, I am a mother and I have good verbal skills and I used to play with Barbie and I love to bake and I cry easily and often. But I also love to whitewater raft and I like to build stuff and I can preach great sermons and I like to destroy things and I can read a map without using landmarks to give directions. My daddy loves to crochet and to garden. My mom balances the checkbook and pays the bills. Did it ever occur to anyone that personal traits might not be based on gender or sex at all?
Why can't we just let people be?
One student asked what the bible says about gender roles. It is actually devoid of any specific instruction regarding gender. I think that is purposeful. I don't think that maleness and femaleness need
to be anything other than physiological and anatomical in nature. There is no direction that clearly expresses otherwise. I don't understand why we feel the need to impose roles upon gender or traits upon gender or expectations upon gender. And I believe that if we would reject the bell curve and reject gender specific traits that we would be better able to grow up into healthy and whole persons. Why should we force people to feel different and divided by devising a strange system of gender traits and roles?
I feel like I am right back in junior high. I am the strange girl who gets along with the boys and likes to tinker and who is bold and loud and unkempt. After fighting for years to gain ground and become okay with who I am as a person, I am now told by some of my fellow seminarians and my professor that I do not fit the norm and that I am too much like a boy. And then they say that is okay, but if I really am a girl who behaves like a boy, then that cannot just be okay. If I should be one thing, but I have become another, then I am not okay. By holding on to this strange idea of traits that are male and traits that are female we tell people, every day, that they are not okay. And that is a load of crap.
Being a woman makes me feminine. I don't need to prove that I am woman. That fact is evident. So why should I have to find some proof of being feminine? I shouldn't. And if I hold to the concept of the bell curve I can't prove my femininity. The bell curve only expresses my masculinity. But I am not masculine. I am a woman. And as I stated before, being a woman makes me feminine. I cannot be a male woman. Matt and Andrew cannot be female men. And, frankly, that so many people would entertain the idea that we could be such disturbs me. I will read a map and build stuff and lead and preach, but I will never be male. To believe otherwise is ridiculous.
Let's Talk About Sex, Baby
I started my second intensive course of the summer quarter tonight. It is about sex. Before class David said, "So you guys are gonna talk about sex?" and I immediately began singing the song Let's Talk About Sex. Fortunately the professor found it humorous--as did everyone else in the class.
I feel like this class is a good thing. This first night was affirming in many ways. My ideas of how the spiritual and the sexual are intricately connected were affirmed. My desire to reframe a poor idea of sexuality that I developed during a messed up time of my childhood was affirmed. And the fact that I am scared to death of starting a new relationship was affirmed.
I have just gotten to the point where I can verbalize my desire to go out with a guy I have been attracted to for a year. And that feels like great progress. To be able to say that I wish Doug would ask me out seems like great progress--and I haven't courage to tell Doug that, just people who know Doug. How long have I been this messed up? And how long will it take to stop being afraid? And what is there to be afraid of?
I already know that love requires risk and it often brings pain. That I have come to terms with. But I do fear losing my power and being sucked into a relationship that threatens to kill me, instead of causes me to thrive. Somehow I know that great guys like Doug don't do that to people and that there is no reason to fear that anymore, but deep down I remember how it felt to be treated horribly by someone you loved. And that is why it has taken me a year to come to terms with the fact that I am attracted to a man.
I hope and pray that this class can help me find a way back to wholeness. The fact of the matter is I really desire to be with someone again. And I can't let the process of finding someone to be with take fifteen years. I need to find a way to let go and become new in my relationships. Maybe telling Doug that I like Doug would be a good start. If I want to keep my power I ought not stand around acting powerless. It is time for me to move, no matter the risks I fear. I don't want to be a slave to fear anymore than I do a slave to some man. Indeed, it is time to act.
Seminary Sucks
Seminary Sucks. I cried more this week than I have in a long time. Everything is always pushing me to a deeper level. Every month I am deeper in debt. Every quarter I am more deeply invested in the process. Every cohort meeting I am more deeply involved in the lives of these 13 people who I was once forced into community with. And every class pushes me deeper into myself, forcing me to emerge from behind the walls that I have built to protect my fragile little heart.
I am starting to break open, and the real me is starting to pour out through the cracks. I can't seem to stop this from happening, and that scares me. I don't like to be exposed--out there for the world to see. I am always honest, but I never fully disclose--until now. And that sucks, because I am forced to risk failure and struggle and heartache of all sorts by letting the whole world see what is really at the heart of me.
Once again I am crying.
I don't know if I can do this, but I cannot seem to stop this. I am forced to tread down a path that leads to full disclosure. I am forced to express who I was, who I am, and who I will be without any buffers or coatings or smokescreens. I am more real and true than I have ever been, and I hate it. Seminary is stripping me bare, and it sucks.
