as I walk

the journey to becoming me

ugly

I’m going to try to go for complete and total honesty with very little self editing.  Probably the first honest statement is that I don’t want to be honest- not about this anyway.  Is it pride?  Is it self denial?  Is it self preservation?  I don’t know.  But something has got to give.  I decided Monday evening that I would make an appointment to see a counselor.  I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to find one.  I have one major stipulation (and then a few bendy ones)- that they be a Christian.  I’ve found with therapists/shrinks in the past (like 12 years ago) that they tend to not see my issues as that big of an issue.  They were more interested in getting me to be happy with the issue than fixing the freaking thing.  I need someone who gets that my brain does not jive with my spirituality.  That means that I am wicked conflicted all the time.  So- I need someone who can help me fix my brain (not my spirituality). 

Now that I brought it up- I remember one of my former therapists (I had tons) – gosh what was her name… Karen I think.  Anyway… the only thing I remember her telling me (besides that I was a danger to myself- (I was a cutter)) was that I should do nice things for myself- like take a bath.  Really?  That was her advice to me.  A bath.  I was a messed up bi-polar, PTSD suffering, social anxiety ridden, cutter- and she suggests I take a bubble bath.  So, I guess another must have stipulation be that the counselor isn’t an idiot.  God healed me of all that stuff- that’s now a non-issue.  What is the issue… the thing that makes me feel conflicted, confused, and often times… dirty… is this attraction to chicks.  Again, I’m not actually attracted… but I am… I can’t explain it.  I’m just tired of it.  I’ve given it to God so many times… yet nothing happens.  I’m starting to think that He’s giving it back to me- so that I can do this another way.  He miraculously wiped out my mental diseases- in one night- gone.  Maybe He wants me to fight for this one.  Maybe this is a learning experience.  Maybe I’m not really giving it to God.  I think I am though. 

At the Good Friday service, there was this really cool worship art/last words thing… I wanted to participate.  I wanted to write that I want this to die.  It just seemed too ugly to go there.  I felt like it would taint everyone else’s.  So I stayed in my seat. 

I’m tired of keeping my head down at the gym afraid I’ll see something that will spark something… not good.  I’m tired of feeling all awkward around chicks.  One patted me on the leg… I almost lost it.  My brain definitely forgot I was in church.  I think that was what spurred me on to look into some form of therapy.  So, I emailed a friend who is a therapist asking for a recommendation- because all I could find online were… well… I couldn’t find anything online.  How is it that I can use the internet to find the guy that hit my car (including his picture and that he likes fountain pens) – yet I can’t find a stinking therapist?  Now I’m rethinking the idea of therapy (this rethinking thing happened like 2 seconds ago).  How would telling someone this crap fix it?  Can it even be fixed?  Why doesn’t God just wave a magic wand and set me free from this? 

I’ve often thought about instant weight loss -why God wouldn’t help me lose weight super duper fast (like 30+ lbs a week).  The reasoning that I always got back was that if it was too simple… there’s a greater likelihood of falling back into those old habits and patterns that got me fat to begin with.  So the slower weight loss is actually part of the training process to be a better steward of my body.  Then it stands to reason that maybe this is a training process to be a… a… non-conflicted? person. 

So here I am in this painful learning process that I feel like a floundering failure.  I’ve tried denial, covering it with pink shirts, prayer, posting it online (geez what am I thinking?) – and nothing is working.  So yeah, even if talking about it doesn’t seem like it would make sense, I’ve got to try something- something different.  I will say though, if whoever it is I end up seeing says that I should take a bubble bath- we’re done.  

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