Vacation in Paradise

I'm currently on vacation and it feels good. I get to do all the things that I wouldn't normally do. For the first time in years, I got to take a real bath. I forget what it's like to be around normal people and do normal things. We've gone to a flea market, played cards, and took care of an 8-month-old baby. My girlfriend's family has been really nice and open with me.

Maybe after this I'll feel more centered. I've been feeling stuck inside my apartment's walls, even though I'm really not. It's just that whatever I want to do takes planning and has to fit inside my aide's schedules. I hate having that constriction (Is that even a word?). Being around a baby has made me want one even more, which is bad news for my girlfriend and my hormones. Hopefully the upcoming activities will help distract me.

"Excuse me, Sir."

I get that a lot. Whether I'm outside taking a walk or in a restaurant, I get mistaken for a man. I'm not a girly girl. I don't have earrings, I don't paint my nails, and I don't wear makeup. I actually think it's quite funny when someone mistakes me for a man. I don't get offended by it. But my ability to laugh toff the confusion wasn't always there. Like most girls, I struggled with body and self-image. The difference was how I dealt with it. I kept everything inside and told no one. Self harm came easy to me. I never left any scars, so there is no evidence of it.

When I was in my teens, there was a woman who came to work with my family. She was fresh out of California and always told everyone to shut up (when she was surprised by something). By now my self harm had gotten to be almost daily, and I was drowning in my own pain. We got to be pretty close, and I learned a great deal from her. But the most important and beautiful thing came when she decided to chop off all her hair. That was the greatest lesson in “beauty on the inside” that I've ever seen.

Up until then I was dumb enough to believe that beauty was on the outside. I did my nails, and my mom spent many tortured hours doing my hair. I had always hated the beauty rituals, but believed they were necessary. Now I knew they weren't. Of course the change for me didn't happen overnight. I still painted my nails for a few years (the guy who did my nails was really good!), and I didn't chop all my hair off until I got to college. But that chopping her hair off was a defining moment for me. Slowly, I began to appreciate myself. I began to see myself for the beautiful human being I am today.  

Simon

This is Simon. He represents everything good about my life as an MK. He was given to me on my 10th birthday by a friend's mom. I guess she didn't want me to feel left out because it was my friend's birthday. We often celebrated our birthdays together because we were only two weeks apart. My family and I lived in a suburban area on the southernmost island. I was an only child for thirteen years, and I was isolated and socially awkward. This family accepted me as one of their own. We met when were seven, and I bonded with the older boy quickly. The younger one I teased mercilessly, which I regret to some extent.

We watched endless hours of Star Trek episodes. We watched The Princess Bride. We geeked out over our favorite books. We played board games.  We spent holidays together. They showed me cool new games on their Mac computer. We shared our love of Japan, and moaned over homeschooling. I wonder who on the mission field thought I was going to marry the oldest one? When my family moved to the States, we kind of lost touch for awhile. But it didn't matter. When the oldest one came from Tokyo to visit me while I was in Japan, it was as if we'd never left. I will cherish those memories forever; they are like my brothers.

Man, I miss them.

Why I Left the Church

Again, I don't how to start this post. Again, I have no hard feelings against anyone who chooses to walk away. That is my disclaimer. Growing up as a missionary kid in Japan, I was expected to go to church every Sunday (itchy dresses and all). I loved the community aspect of church. I was surrounded by adults, because most Japanese kids didn't go to church. It didn't matter much. We got to share our lives, and build each other up

When I got to America, I was saddened by what I saw. Churches were deeply divided by opinions and gossip. People acted no differently in the church than they did outside it. Church was not a community, it was a status symbol. Everything was governed by ritual, not by faith. I'm not saying there are no decent Christians; there are plenty. I'm not saying all churches are bad either. I'm just saying that the mainstream approach to the Christian faith for the majority of people gave me culture shock. I didn't like that feeling.

For the next few years, I scrambled to find a place where I fit. I was a Sparks Leader for three years. I thoroughly enjoyed working with the kids, but that didn't help me much. I was consistently being given unspoken cues that I didn't dress right, eat right, and my opinions didn't matter. Most of the times the people who were giving me these cues didn't know they were doing it. And I didn't speak up. So perhaps it was partly my fault. Whatever happened, it made me question my faith and withdraw even more.

Then, a miracle happened. I found community with a group of differently-abled kids who I loved. I didn't have to work hard to be their friend. They accepted me completely and wholly. Of course I did not tell them everything, and maybe I should have. But everything changed when the accessible van started to break down. My Sunday School teacher looked at me and said, “You're too heavy for me to put in to my car.” My heart broke and a knife went through me. I was a burden, and that was my last attempt at going to church. I was done.

Since then, it's been a journey to find healing. I'm not going to go into my religious beliefs here now because I believe that is the one thing that is most sacred and personal. But I will say that I am a more tolerant, open-minded person. I celebrate Channukah with with my Jewish friends and Ramadan and Eid with my Muslim ones. And I'm finally at peace.

It Gets Better

Things have definitely changed around here. The air is sweeter, and I'm off to new adventures and a new life. I have recently had some friends step up and help me to get out more. I just went to the VMFA, and next on the docket are the Science Museum of Virginia and the Richmond Holocaust Museum. I also have some out of town trips planned, which I never thought would happen. 

I just wanted to say to those of you with or without disabilities that are struggling: It does get better. I've been out of the hospital for almost a year, and I want to keep it that way. No more cutting or suicide attempts. I promise whatever is bothering you, you can take a giant sledge hammer and smash it. And if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here

The Secret

I have no idea how to start this post. The idea of a blog is to share your life experiences with others. I haven't been posting on this blog a lot. The main reason is because I've been struggling with what to share and what not to share. The conclusion is I have no answer. Whatever I put out there is going to make me vulnerable. 

You see, I've been keeping a secret for many years from a lot of people. It has caused me to lose sleep and contemplate suicide. I've spent nights on my knees praying. But I'm now at a point in my life where I'm happy and it shouldn't have to be a secret anymore. I am gay. I have been since the age of 15 when I finally admitted it to myself. I know that I may lose friends over this. I know there are many who believe it is a sin. I understand that. I have no hard feelings against anyone who chooses to walk away now. 

Let me answer some questions first. Yes, my parents know. Yes, I have read the Bible. But I firmly believe that God has made me this way and I stand by it. I choose to do this now because, however selfish it may be, I am tired. Tired of the guilt, the shame, and the fear. Tired of wanting to end my life rather than live it.