Wednesday, April 27, 2011

..."let go in small doses..."

I don't know what will happen with this.  I hope you'll stay with me, as this mess unfolds, and I hope it will become something profound for both of us. 
If not, I apologize for the cluster-fuck you are about to endure...

For the love of anything and everything sacred, don't dull yourself out. 
You are something so marvelous, so spectacular, so stellar.
You know whether or not you are sitting in stagnant water.  You know whether something inside you is crying out, and you know whether or not you fight to hush it every day. 

I can't recognize the person I have become.  Sitting behind this magic box for a few hours every day, banging out marvelous prose in secret, scribbling away in notebooks that get locked away in a safe in a dark closet.  Pretending to be empathetic and "in touch", and all the while, knowing what an unpleasant wretch of a woman I have slowly become, because I am nowhere near where I imagined I would be, or where I know I could be, because I have constantly silenced the thing inside me that cried out. 

Because I have settled. 
Because I have lent myself to people who were embarrassed by me, rather than fed by me. 
Because I have tamed myself for those people, rather than shrugged off their insecurities as just that...their insecurities.  I have embraced them as my own, and now wear them as armor. 

I am not me.  I am "Krystal and..."  Nothing is left of the fantastic and miraculous soul that existed in me to start. 
I can't digest how people survive this.  How a person's heart doesn't just stop...
I want to discover every corner and every hidden place inside of him.  I want to turn him inside out, and memorize him, to never stop discovering, and yet he is simply uninterested in learning any more about me...and often even embarrassed by the flamboyant and grandiose person I can be.  How?  And it isn't because he's "bad."  It just is.  And I know it was from the beginning.  And I hate admitting that I saw it, and knew it from the beginning.  I hate knowing and admitting that I ignored it.  That I tolerated it.  That I allowed it.  That I lived with it.  I hate that I let someone throw water on my fire, and that now I'm just wet ash. 
I can't believe that the sun will come up tomorrow. 
I can't digest how people survive a person's heart doesn't just stop...

Don't die.  Sweet gods, don't dull yourself out.  Don't give yourself over to someone else to mold.  

And if you do, you have no one to blame but yourself. 

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Holly Lou Yeah.

I have two kids. 
They are imperfect. 
I adore them. 

They make messes that are never-ending. 
And I adore them. 

They challenge me, my perceptions, and my patience. 
And I adore them. 

They test my boundaries, they test each other, they push my limits.  Every day. 
And I adore them. 

I love them beyond measure.  Bigger love than anything I know. 

I would never dream, imagine, fathom, of testing that love.  Of tempting that love.  Of trying that love "just because."  

I would never dream of putting them in a situation to push the limits of their love, simply to see if they'd continue to return to me. 

Never in a million years could they do or say anything that could render me incapable of forgiving them, incapable of welcoming them home. 

Rob a bank.  Push an old lady down the stairs.  Kill someone.  Kill each other.  Be gay...(gasp, gag, heaven forbid, *sarcasm*) love and forgiveness is great and infinite. 
And I'm not god, I'm just their mother. 

Yet I'm asked every day, in some form, to believe that some god, somewhere, is incapable of the same infinite forgiveness.  I'm asked to believe that god will "test" us.  Just because? 

That god you are asking me to believe in is supposed to be greater than me.  And you're telling me in the same sentence that he isn't even capable of an infinite "welcome home"? 

I'm capable of that.  Am I greater than your god?

The Deity that I know must be out there somewhere does not need some flimsy book to speak for him, or her, or it.  It just is.  It is in everything and in everyone.  And if I need to know something, it will be placed within my heart, and I will know it.  I won't need some big man in a dark robe at a pulpit to shout it at me, to shame it at me.  I won't need someone holier-than-thou to look down upon me, and to tell me that I'm bad, and wrong, and full of sin and shame, and that I must humble myself for all the terrible things I have done, before I can be "good" enough to enter his secret Utopia. 

I've been told that it's not ok for me to just "do the right thing, and (try to) love everyone" because that might lead me to the "wrong" path, without a good, solid text to guide my thinking.  I've been told that I must not practice certain holidays, because it shows worship to false idols that draw attention away from the lord.  I have been told that being gay, "even for a second, in thought" will cast me straight into eternal damnation. 
I have even been told that it's ok to be a complete selfish prick my entire life, because Jesus has already died for my sins, and all I have to do is ask for forgiveness and "accept him" and I'll go straight to heaven.  And if those are the kinds of people that are allowed into heaven, hasn't anyone else stopped to wonder what kind of dude is running the joint?  I mean, is Larry the Cable Guy in charge up there??

I can't believe I'm greater than whatever is out there.  I can't accept that the "laws" in this book are the true and final word.  Shudder in your seat if you must, but it is what I feel.  Pray for me.  I won't roll my eyes, or become enraged, or even burst into pagan flames.  Regardless of my complete lack of religious structure, I am a good and decent and kind human being.  I don't shove small children in front of oncoming traffic, and I don't host orgies in my living room while my children roll doobies (just to prove my point, I had to spell-check "doobies.")  We are a wholesome, albeit moderately liberal family, who have just left that "organized" part out. 
When those questions arise, we answer "some people believe...

...I think this way... will be up to you to decide how you feel." 

Any god, any "parent" of mankind would be incapable of having all these children, having such a powerful love for them, and still being capable of casting them into some fiery pit of torment and despair for eternity, and still be greater than me.  I know this because I am not capable of that.  Nothing my own kids could do could make me want to see them tormented even for a second, let alone a fucking eternity, while I remain unyielding to their pleas.  Impossible.  God is greater than me, and yet my capacity of forgiveness is greater than his? 

Yeah, yeah, I know, "the bible says..." 

What if god him/her/itself showed up at my door right now, and told me that the bible wasn't finished.  "I need you to write the additional texts, dude."  (Hey, it's my world, and god says "dude.") 
"There's still some debate over that "Leviticus" section, and I need to clear that stuff up.  Tell the world that I hate gay people, and that everyone who is gay is a big fat dummy, and I want them all to stop it right now.  Ten pages.  Single spaced.  Comic Sans, just for shits and giggles.  Go forth, and type, dude." 

Now there are a hundred people on my lawn, asking me what god wanted.  (Assuming god is a big fiery glowing white entity, surrounded by clouds and crap, it would be hard for the neighbors to miss.  Stay with me...) 

I have to give them something, but of course, I'm not going to want to tell them what god really said.  Why would I?  It's not in my best interest to tell them that god's a big homophobe, and that the crazy Westboro people are right...god does hate fags. 

What's to stop me from penning those extra bible pages to suit my own tastes?  Not a thing. 
What stopped the original authors from penning those pages to suit their own tastes?  To manipulate and sway the masses?  To promote the behaviors that were deemed acceptable at the time?  Not a thing. 

And if you still aren't with me...
Are we truly to sacrifice animals, stone witches and sell our daughters, all in the name of the fucking bible?  In the name of god?  

If that is genuinely true, then pass me my patchouli perfume, because I have some naked pagan moonlight dancin' to do. 

Tuesday, April 19, 2011


A year ago, I knew everything I needed to know. 

I knew that cancer was for "other people." 

I knew that my food was safe. 

I knew that my shampoo was safe. 

I knew that my drinking water was safe. 

I knew that I would always be codependent and needy, that it was just who I was, and that it was ok.  

But that was a year ago, and now I feel like I don't know anything anymore. 
I'm scared, and I just want my blissful ignorance back.