The Magical Third Strand

When I got married two and a half years ago, I had a lot of pre-conceived opinions. I knew marriage wasn’t going to be easy, but I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were going to make it. My confidence came from the belief that my fiancé and I had a special secret weapon against the trials of marriage: we had God. God was the third strand that would keep our marriage together, no matter what. I believed that my marriage was inherently stronger than those of non-believers. After all, God gave us superior insight and patience. God had gifted us with stronger and more powerful feelings of commitment. God had promised us that our cord of three strands would not be easily broken. I knew that my marriage was better than your marriage because God was supernaturally holding us together.

Imagine my surprise when I faced reality for the first time. We had been married for about 6 months. I was deep in post-patriarchy depression and I cried myself to sleep almost every night. My husband and I prayed together every day, but still I could see the toll my struggles were taking our marriage. I didn’t know how to feel better, and he didn’t know how to help me. I often thought of how much better off he would be without me. As I began facing my childhood for the first time, I developed a visceral reaction to anything that felt restrictive to me. I remember the exact moment when I first realized the magnitude of my “till death do us part” commitment.

I was sitting on my bed in our tiny apartment folding clothes. I started to think about the rest of my life. I was 19, and already the biggest decisions of my life were behind me. I would be folding these same socks and underwear every week for the rest. Of. My. Life.  I suddenly felt trapped, claustrophobic in my own life. I had committed to this marriage before God, and now I couldn’t leave. Ever. My chest constricted and my breath came faster. “I can’t do this.” I thought. “I can’t do this.”  

I imagined packing my things and leaving right then. My heart swelled with hope at the idea of being truly free for the first time in my life. Those thoughts terrified me, and in that moment I felt betrayed by God. “You promised that I wouldn’t have to feel this way!” I prayed through the tears. “You promised you would hold us together!” I felt cold and naked as I realized that there was no supernatural power keeping me here in this apartment with this man. There was no safety net protecting our marriage. There was nothing but our own desires, and I didn’t even know what I wanted.

What first felt like betrayal, turned out to be the most freeing realization of my married life. I examined my heart and gave myself permission to think about what I wanted. I gave myself permission to pursue the things that made me happy. I made a lot of changes in my life, like going back to school and moving to a new state. The biggest breakthrough of all was realizing that I wanted to be with my spouse. He makes me laugh, his personality compliments mine. He believes in me even when I don’t believe in myself. He does not “complete me,” but I cannot imagine my life without him. The life that I have is the life that I want.

The love we have for each other, and the commitment we made to each other is stronger and more profound than it has ever been. Many people question the strength and validity of our marriage because we are “unequally yoked” or too egalitarian. I used to do the same thing. The idea of stepping into a lifelong commitment is substantially less terrifying when you think you have a supernatural shield around you and your spouse. But how much more beautiful is a wedding where two flawed humans commit to one another, fully aware of the challenges they will face? How much more powerful is a marriage where two people stay together because they want to?

There is no magical third strand holding my marriage together, it’s just us. We promised each other that no matter what happens, we will never stop working on our marriage. We promised that no matter how our feelings change, we will never give up on our love. I mean it, and know that he does too. And that’s good enough for me.

Anti-Birth Control or Anti-Women?

During my engagement, my fiancé and I received a call from another young couple we knew. They had been married for about 5 years and already had 4 small children. I had mentioned in a previous conversation that I was considering some kind of IUD to prevent pregnancy for our first year of marriage, so I was not surprised when they revealed that they wanted to talk to us about birth control. “Any birth control besides a barrier method is basically an abortion” they told us. “We will come visit you tonight (it was a 15 hour drive) if you’re really serious about using BC, we feel that strongly about it.”

I took their passionate response as a sign from God: birth control is murder. They gave me the same argument I grew up hearing, but in more detail. If you haven’t heard the argument, it goes something like this: Birth control pills work by thinning the lining of the uterus. If your birth control fails to prevent ovulation (this happens in 2-10% of cases) and an egg becomes fertilized, the uterus will reject the egg, thus causing the “baby” to die and be expelled from the body. The argument continues by saying that millions of babies are murdered by birth control every year.

Some of you may have seen this video circulating on the Internet. It’s the one that claims birth control is responsible for adultery, homosexuality, divorce, murder, and a slew of other “evils.” I won’t even begin to address the dozens of lies and misleading statistics in the video. I just want to address the issue at the core of the anti-birth control. Namely, that birth control is murder.

  

Now, this whole position is ridiculous if you don’t believe that a zygote is a baby. Most people hear the anti-birth control argument and shrug it off. There are some, however, that believe life begins at conception. For those people, hormonal birth control seems to be completely out of the question. However, the anti-birth control crowd leaves out one very important fact: a woman’s body naturally rejects at least 18% of fertilized eggs. This means that if you have unprotected sex that leads to the fertilization of an egg (30% chance or successful fertilization), the resulting zygote has an 18% chance of being rejected by the uterus. The human body naturally performs “abortions” almost 20% of the time. So does taking birth control actually increase the chances of zygote abortion, or does birth control actually reduce the chances of this occurring? Let’s do the math.

Without Birth Control:

Out of 100 fertile women on birth control, 100 of them will ovulate in any given month.

Out of those 100 released eggs, 33 will become fertilized.

Out of those 33, 18% will be rejected by the uterus.

In a group of 100 women not on birth control: 6 zygotes will “die”

With Birth Control:

Out of 100 fertile women on birth control, around 6 of them will ovulate in any given month.

Out of those 6 released eggs, only 2 will become fertilized.

Out of those 2, 100% will be rejected by the uterus.

In a group of 100 women on birth control: 2 zygotes will “die”

So let’s get this straight, taking birth control makes a woman’s body LESS likely to dispel fertilized eggs. If you believe that life begins at conception, shouldn’t it be your moral duty to reduce the number of zygote “abortions?” If you believe that a zygote is a human, you actually kill more babies by refusing to take birth control.

How has such a massive flaw gone unnoticed all this time? Did anti-birth control advocates really just “miss” these obvious facts, or could it be that they like the result of this misconception? Denying women rights to their own reproduction is the oldest weapon in the war on women. Even if you believe that a zygote deserves the same rights as a full grown human, there is still no reason to oppose birth control other than to control women.

 I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of the “personhood” smokescreen. Let’s call the anti-birth control message by its real name: anti-woman.

Conservative Christian Speaks out Against Misogyny

A few months ago, Reverend Jesse Lee Peterson posted a video on youtube in which he blamed women for all of societies problems. "It's unfortunate that men are so weak that they allow these women to just run wild, and screw up everything, including their souls, and their children." He said. "And if you speak up about it, Satan got it set up, through the women, that you're going to be punished in some way." From behind the pulpit, he insisted women are incapable of leadership, and that they should not be allowed to vote. Think I'm kidding? Watch it for yourself here. When I first saw the video, it was all I could talk about for days.

About a week ago, Peterson was on the Hannity show on Fox News. I didn't see it because I don't watch Fox News. But my husband, who is a staunch conservative, watches regularly. Kirsten Powers was on Hannity at the same time, and she interrupted Hannity in the middle of a segment and asked Peterson to explain his misogynistic youtube rant. Neither Hannity nor Fox news saw fit to address the subject and the whole event was swept neatly under the rug.

My husband, who generally shrugs off my feminist tirades, surprised me today by writing a letter to Hannity, calling him out on his choice of guests and friends. He sent the letter to Fox News, Hannity himself, and the station that broadcasts the Hannity Radio program. 

Dear Mr. Hannity,

I am a 21 year old married college student and a lifelong  advocate of conservatism.  I appreciate what you have done and continue to do to advance the cause of freedom in our Country. Recently an exchange on your show between Reverend Jesse Lee Peterson and Kirsten Powers piqued my interest.  I soon found myself watching a video in which Mr. Peterson delivers a sermon filled with indefensible comments about women, including that they should have never been granted the right to vote and that women are responsible for the introduction of all the evils we face in the modern age. I do not toe the line that there is an organized war on women, and for that reason I believe a statement like this must not go unrecognized. As a Christian, I understand that every man, woman, and child is born with original sin. To suggest that women are disproportionately guilty of bringing evil into our world is not only cowardly and self serving, but poor theology. Frankly, Mr. Peterson is not fit to be on local TV network, let alone a show with your reach and influence and preaching the Word of God.  I implore you to at the very least make a statement condemning a painfully obvious example of sexism (fuel for the "war on women" argument) that originated from a conservative contributor to your very show. If you choose not to address this issue then I understand that either this man's friendship means more to you than the credibility of your show and the conservative movement, or that you yourself agree with the egregious statements made by Rev. Peterson.

Sincerely,

--------------------

 [Enigma's Husband]

 Let's see if it goes anywhere, after all, I'm sure Fox and Friends will listen more closely to a Conservative Christian man...

Let my Soul Heal (Spiritual Journey Part 2)

The healing process is not easy. Long suppressed feelings are even more painful when you experience them later in life. There were times I walked out in the middle of conversations with friends or family to avoid shouting or bursting into tears. Long conversations with my older sisters gave me courage to keep pressing on. Blogging has also been Instrumental in my “recovery.” Hearing from other people with similar struggles is incredibly encouraging! 

Husband kept expecting that my rest period would end with some sudden realization or conversion. But I knew that this journey was only just beginning.

I always assumed that Husband’s faith was just the same as mine, stubborn and unfounded. The more disillusioned I became with my faith, the more I started thinking that maybe He was brainwashed too, especially when nothing I could say would sway him. But the more we debated, the more I realized he really did know what he was talking about. At some point before becoming a Christian, he had done his homework. He knew both sides of the creation/evolution argument. He knew the tenants and philosophies of every main world religion. He even had experience with people from almost every walk of life. All I had was what my parents gave me: the ability to reason, and a thorough brainwashing. I had never studied other religions, I knew nothing about the evolution, and I had limited social experience. He could argue circles around me no matter what we were discussing. I was frustrated with some of his conclusions, but also shocked to discover he wasn’t nearly as hard lined as my parents had been. He didn’t believe in female submission, or spiritual headship. He didn’t think Catholics were going hell, in fact, he questioned whether hell was really the burning torture chamber I had learned about. He loved rock music and thought I looked nice in a bikini…

 I realized I could never make an informed decision on religion until I was actually informed.

I started browsing the documentary section at the library and brought home a number of different DVDs on subjects ranging from Ancient Wicka to the Galapagos Islands. Husband watched them with me sometimes and listened to me talk about what I’d learned with patience and interest. I’ll list a few of my favorites here.

I watched a documentary called “in the name of God.” It was made just after 9/11 as a look into various religions and their take on violence, war, and where “god” fits in. It was beautiful and refreshing. I teared up a couple times throughout the film as my heart celebrated the goodness of humanity. It also helped me silence my inner conspiracy theorist. Religion isn’t all bad, it’s not all evil, it’s not a tool used by the government to control the masses. Religion comes from the hearts of people seeking truth, happiness, and greater good; there’s nothing inherently sinister about it.

Another of my favorites was a PBS documentary called “The question of God.” In this film, Harvard Professor Dr. Armand Nicholi examines the questions of faith and belief. He and a panel of prestigious psychologists and philosophers look at the lives and works of C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud. "It may be that Freud and Lewis represent conflicting parts of ourselves," Dr. Nicholi notes. "Part of us yearns for a relationship with the source of all joy, hope and happiness, as described by Lewis, and yet, there is another part that raises its fist in defiance and says with Freud, 'I will not surrender.' Whatever part we choose to express will determine our purpose, our identity, and our whole philosophy of life."

I continue to read and research in my spare time. I’m in Psychology 101 in college and I love every minute of it. I feel like a whole new world is opening up before my eyes. Why were my parents so afraid to educate me? As I grow more knowledgeable, my discussions with my husband get less heated and more intellectual. I love being a blank slate. I love not knowing. My healing process is slowly becoming a learning process as well.

 I’ll periodically update my blog with a post about where I am in my spiritual journey. If you’re on the same path, just know that it might take you your entire life. And that’s okay! Lets learn to embrace this journey together!  

   

Let Go of My Soul (Spiritual Journey Part 1)

I think I’ve been avoiding talking about God on my blog. I don’t want to misrepresent myself. My beliefs change almost every day. 5 years ago I was a fundamentalist, yesterday I was an atheist, tomorrow I may be a Buddhist. This journey has been painful, liberating, intriguing, and confusing, and it is far from over. Part of me wants to wait until I know what I believe before I write about it, but it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else who has ever walked this path. So I’m finally going to write about the things that are bursting the seams of my mind, and the events that led me to where I am now.

My brother in law graduated high school in May of this year. Husband and I were at the grad party late into the night sitting around the bon-fire with Brother and his friends. These guys had just graduated “Someplace Christian High School” and their conversation represented everything that upsets me. They were chatting about how they “hated fags,” and “dikes in the military.” They used inappropriate derogatory terms to describe the girls they know. I’ve spent enough time around guys to know how they talk, but some of the things these boys said were just too much. I was angry at their senselessness. The undertone of their conversation was pride. They were great kids and they knew it. They talked about everybody else they were dirt.

Obviously these boys don’t represent the entire Christian community, but their attitude of self- righteousness was all too familiar too me. I started to see it everywhere; pastors, relatives, friends, all these Christians who judged and labeled and ignored. This was when I began to see that religion and personal morality did not go together. I believe it is wrong to hurt or discriminate against people. But if I chose to be a Christian like my friends, I would be forced to ignore my belief and vote against the repeal of "don’t ask don’t tell." 

Why is God so judgmental? Why is he so cruel? It wasn’t long before words like “Holy” and “judgment” “sinner” started making my skin crawl. I was angry with God. For the first time I was able to say it out loud. I would rant at my bewildered Husband about how selfish and vile God was. As my anger died down, I began to hope that maybe he just didn’t exist…

When I first started admitting that I struggled with the concept of God, it was very hard on my husband. God represents everything good in his life, and here I was bashing Him on a regular basis. We fought about it a lot at first. He pressured me a little, sometimes a lot, I think he felt like I was running headfirst off a cliff. It hurt me more than anything to think that my struggles with God were driving a wedge between us. We spent many nights hopelessly holding each other and crying, neither one knowing how to fix all this hurt. Slowly however, I learned to be sensitive to him and not so aggressive. He learned to let go of my soul and just hold on to my heart.

In church one day, the pastor talked about growing up in a home where God is used to hurt. He talked about his own struggles with faith. With tears in his eyes, he promised the congregation that God loved them and wanted to know them. That God was patient and empathetic. I cried through the whole last 20 minutes. I couldn’t stop myself. The tears just kept pouring down my face. Not because I felt particularly close to God, but because another human being had been where I was now, and he was telling me that it was going to be okay. That day I made a deal with God. If he would be patient with me, and love me, and show me who he is, then I would listen, and I would let him teach me.

And so I made peace with my “god” and peace with my husband. And for the first time in years, I was able to rest. I read a little, I blogged a little, and I let my heart rest. I stopped trying to fight my feelings of anger and sadness. I stopped trying to ignore the things that I secretly thought were good. I stopped forcing myself to think, and finally let myself feel. Of course anyone who knows me, knows that I can never rest for long…………

…………To Be Continued

(Next time I’ll talk about where I’m at now and what has helped me get here!)

 

Battling Depression

Anyone who has ever struggled with depression or addiction knows whats it's like to have that voice of oposition in your head. You fight against it every day just to stay sane. It pushes you towards that bottle, or away from your friends, or into the arms of you drug. I refer to this inner nemesis as "My Enemy." She is not a physical being. She is not the demon i always thought she was. She is simply everything in me that is wounded and broken. She is my depression. She is the voice of my past abuse. She is my self hatred, and she will do whatever it takes to keep me here alone.

My Enemy had built entire cities in my mind long before I learned that she was there. She used to run up and down the synapses in my brain, shouting and screaming in a voice just like mine. I thought she was me. I trusted my own voice. For so long time I thought that the things she said were true.

She used to scream at me for eating that extra cookie. She cheered me on every time I cut my wrists, and I secretly hoped I would cut too deep. She had me thoroughly convinced that I was ugly, and stupid, and awkward. She could say anything she wanted and I would eat it up, take it to heart, memorize it…. My Enemy owned me back then.

About a year ago, I was newly married, working two jobs, and trying to fit in in a new city. My enemy capitalized on my stressed body. She grew stronger than ever before. Vividly I remember that chocolate cupcake. I made it myself, with mounds of vanilla butter cream frosting. I had one with my friends, but when they left I couldn’t stop thinking about the last cupcake. My Enemy whispered that Husband would never know who ate it. “You could have it and be done. You know you want to!” But as soon as I took that first bite, her voice grew angry, disgusted, and ferocious. I ate the whole thing in three huge bites, with tears of shame pouring down face. The cupcake churned in my stomach and my Enemy churned in my mind. Before I knew what was happening I was crouching over the toilet, straining, retching, vomiting every last drop out of my stomach.

I sat on the floor outside the bathroom, hugging my knees and staring into the growing darkness. I was scared. I had promised myself I would never do that. I didn’t want to turn out like my aunt, with boney fingers chapped from the back of her throat. My Enemy promised me that it would all be okay. “This is the start of something great for you!” she promised. She showed me pictures of a thinner me. She showed me how easy it would be. No more guilt, no more consequences! The images faded to one my aunt....

 ...I was 11 years old, at a birthday party. I climbed up on the roof of our house to suprise my cousins who were playing in bedroom. As i crawled along the shingles under the bathroom window, i heard a noise, like someone pouring water in a pool.  I peaked in the window and saw my aunt there, doubled over the toilet throwing up. Her shirt was folded neatly on the counter to avoid being splashed. I could see her ribs poking up through her skin. My aunt, strong and beautiful, was here alone on her knees....

That forgotten image came flooding back into my mind. My aunt was not free from guilt. She was chained to that toilet for an hour that day. I knew then that my Enemy was lying. She was bitter, she wanted me to be alone. For the first time, my mind rebelled against her. For the first time, the foundations of her city began to shake. 

When Husband came home from work that night I was buried deep in the covers, wide awake. He kissed me held me in his arms. If he could have seen the battleground in my mind, I think it would have frightened him. My Enemy was using all her influence to keep my mouth shut. But something within me knew that it was time to speak. “I threw up tonight” I whispered. And that was the beginning of the end.

In Which My Husband Writes a Guest Post

I thinks it's time to tell you a little about my Husband. He grew up in a semi-religious family that never went to church. His childhood was punctuated with tragedy caused by alcoholism and infidelity. When he was around 11 years old his mom found Jesus. His little brother jumped on the bandwagon, but my Husband followed much more cautiously. All throughout high school he studied and researched the subject of religion. As he searched and learned and struggled, he watched how the God began to change his family. At some point he finally decided that he believed in God. His family has been healed and He has an incredible and inspiring faith in God that i wish i could share.

Over the last few months, he has been learning about the darker side of Christianity. The side that i was raised in. He has been shocked and horrified but what I've shown him. After reading This Post By Lisa of Broken Daughters, my husband emailed me at work. It is clear by his writing that he is startled and supremely annoyed by the Fundie interpretation of his religion. I liked what he said so much that i decided to re-post it here. He is responding to the three YouTube Videos that Lisa linked to in her post.

These men are the definition of interpreting scripture without historical and cultural context.  Their entire argument is as follows; "there is nowhere in the bible that says anything about dating" and "there are betrothals that take place in the bible."  That is the same painful anti-logic that the Amish follow in order to conclude that pants and electricity are the work of the devil (but girls wearing skirts and riding horses are God's two favorite things).  What's worse is that these genius's then go on to perform a ritual betrothal that they readily ADMIT is found nowhere in scripture (but some historian says its from around the time Jesus was born so its gotta be OK).  

They look so proud of themselves when they point out that their form of "betrothal is not accepted by our current culture" but they fail to realize that there are a hell of a lot of things that are far better about our current culture than the culture that Jesus happened to be born into (see slavery, governmental oppression, racism, and sexism).  

The truth is that these men are worshiping a culture.  They are placing an inordinate amount of emphasis on the culture surrounding the time the bible was written because in areas where the bible doesn't explicitly tell them what to do, they are unwilling to use their own brains.  

There are clearly matters of biblical indifference where the bible is silent (I have yet to read a verse telling me whether or not it is a sin to deep fry a twinkie).  Rational human beings can have disagreements, Paul even addresses some directly (meat sacrificed to idols).  However there can be no gray areas for these people because if there were, then how could they claim to be perfect in EVERY aspect of their anal retentive lives?  If Jesus had come to earth yesterday and these guys were alive in the year 4011, then we would all be treated to a holographic video of perfect dad 1 and 2 telling future you and me how awful our current culture is.  If only we would have our children date like they did in Jesus' day then surely we would truly be following God...

Like i said  in my last post,  Patriarchy promotes a lifestyle that is supposedly Godly only by virtue of being different from everyone else. Of course its all old hat to me. I know all the rhetoric by heart. But it is fascinating for me to watch him hear this stuff for the first time.

His perspective is refreshing don't you think?

Walking In The Spirit

"Are you walking in the spirit? If you stay close to God, he will show you what he wants you to do."

My mom said this in an email to me last week. As i read it, i was suddenly overcome with anger and guilt. Guilt because i am certainly not "walking in the spirit." I haven't prayed in weeks. Guilt because reading the bible secretly makes me squirm. Guilt because i would rather hear God explain himself to me than beg and plead with him to tell me what HE wants. And Anger. Anger because her admonitions still make me feel small. Anger at God. Because, as usual, He's upset with me. Impatient, threatening to leave me if i don't get back to working on our relationship.

I was raised to believe that only a few were going to heaven. We were disdainful of those who believed they were saved by "works". but we simultaneously judged the state of a persons salvation based on how they lived their lives. We were told that true believers were always full of the spirit. If we were real Christians, all we would ever want to talk about would be God.
I am not exactly displaying the fruits of the spirit these days. I imagine that's why my mother is so concerned. I am not bursting with joy, my heart is often far from peaceful, and talking about God makes me uncomfortable, and sad.

Sometimes i wish i could just toss it all out and forget about religion. But I can't. Somewhere in the midst of the lies my parents told me, I caught a glimpse of God that was strong enough to make me stay. I have been comforted by God. I have seen him change lives, i have felt the joy of trusting him. But most of all, I see my husband.

My husband: The product of a broken family. Tumult and pain color the story of his past. He is analytical, He is a skeptic, and He is a christian. Strong and quietly passionate, He sees the loving God I have always searched for. His God is the calm in the storm. The peace and hope that changed his life. I have brushed shoulders with this God and been blown away by his goodness.

I want to learn about this God. If he's really who i think he is, then He has nothing to hide. I can face my demons, I can rest, and heal, and take my time. And He's not going to threaten me, or leave me, or even disapprove of me. If God is who i think he is, then he knows my heart, he understands my pain, and nothing else matters.

So mom, don't question my salvation. Don't tell me what God wants. Because you don't know and you never have. It's always just been you, attributing your human concerns and emotions to God.

  My husband tells me that God is not a human. He doesn't react like mothers and fathers do: with impatience, disappointment, and threats. I don't have to earn His love. My Husband's God IS love, and He would literally wait forever, just for me.

Independence: Trials and Choices (Part 3 of 3)

As I neared the end of my first semester, it became increasingly clear that I could not attend college the following year. I had no money, no scholarships, and no possibility of a loan. Boyfriend and I continued to grow closer and the thought of leaving him and moving back in with my parents was unbearable. It came as a surprise when a dear Friend of mine convinced her father to co-sign on a private student loan. I had not asked for help and her loving generosity still brings me to tears. The loan enabled me to pay off the $15000 i had already racked up in debt, and left me with a choice: Continue my education (as a journalist) and create $70 K in debt that i had no plan to pay, OR go to a more cost-effective institution and get a quick degree in something that i knew would pay my debt. Over Christmas break, Boyfriend and I did a lot of talking and praying. It was one of the hardest decisions i ever had to make. I never went back after that Christmas break. I had my stuff shipped to me at my parents house and i signed myself up for CNA (Certified Nurse Assistant) Training at the local community college.

We were miserable.

Boyfriend was planning on heading back out to Virginia, 13 hours away, in a week. We spent every spare moment together, much to the chagrin of my parents who thought we should be with family all the time. I guess they thought that we had just held hands up to this point. One night after a movie, Boyfriend pulled the car over at a local park and we sat watching the snow fall. He asked me if i really thought i could stand to spend the rest of my life with him. I told i couldn't stand to spend it without him. And then he asked me to marry him. I Said Yes.

Of course it was shocking to everyone. Except my parents. They took it to mean I was obeying their council. Everyone else told me i was making a huge mistake. Honestly i cant blame them. We had known each other for 6 months and were already engaged. We were freshman in college. We were poor, and we were YOUNG. But at 18 years of age, I walked the isle and spoke the vows, and i haven't regretted it for a day since. My father rambled on in his reception speech about how he had "allowed" me to marry. He even said that "(Boyfriend) started as worse than Whale Scum in my eyes, but he is slowly redeeming himself." I was mortified. That however, is the only bad memory of my wedding. It was wonderful and beautiful and everything I never dreamed of.

Husband is now studying at a State school (we left PHC) and plans to go on to law school. I got my CNA, but have decided to go in another direction. I will be starting part time school in the fall and hopefully pursuing a degree in psychology. I work full time as a receptionist to pay the bills. We are very happy with our life. My parents on the other hand continue to insist that we are not living a godly lifestyle. My father constantly mentions the fact that we are not having children and my mother often expresses her doubt that my husband is "taking care of me." I am sure they will be horrified to learn that I do not plan to home school our future children.

Anyway, now you know the basics of my life story. These last three posts have given me a structure on which to build further posts. I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading my posts! I didn't expect this and it is such an encouragement to me. <3

Independence: A Taste Of Freedom. (Part 2)

2 days after the birth of my baby brother, my dad drove me to Midway airport for my flight to Virginia and freedom. “You are never to be alone with a man at any time, not even professors”
“If a boy expresses any interest in you whatsoever, you must give him my number and have him call me before you spend any time with him”
“Remember, men are scum”
“I know this is supposedly a Christian college, but that doesn’t mean you can automatically trust people!”
I humored him and pretended like I was listening. This was the last time I’d have to hear it after all. He walked me all the way to the gate, hugged and kissed me goodbye. He was a little choked up; I was chomping at the bit. Dad had gotten better over the last year at telling us girls he loved us, but it was too late now. I was so used to not hearing it that now it all just felt so forced.
The first few weeks of college were a blur of activities, new people, and frustrations. The college was founded by leaders in the homeschooling movement, so every kid there was either a socially awkward dreamer, a spouse hunter, or a really confused public school-er who ended up there on accident. The latter describes my two best friends: Tim & Kevin. (names changed) I pretended to be just as confused as they were, but secretly I knew exactly why the college only allowed men on the security and grounds teams. I understood the theology behind shy girls with no makeup and long dresses. I silently sympathized with the blond who, free for the first time, was caught in the back seat of an upperclassman's car at night furiously making up for lost time. This place was only different from home in that I was able to be whoever i wanted. Nobody knew i was actually one of the girls sent to college only for an MRS degree. I painted myself as the tough, feminist, martial artist. My hair was boy-short and i swore allot so everybody bought the facade.


About 2 weeks into my first semester, the guy i had been dating back home started to get serious and i started to get scared. He was using the "M" word. Allot. He had been more of a stress reliever to me than a potential husband. Between "sortof-boyfriend" and the school Rules i started to feel trapped again. And the more trapped i felt, the more drawn i was to my friend "Tim". He was blond, handsome, kind, and best of all he didn't pretend to understand me. He thought i was pretty (what!?) and called me a girly girl. I found myself thinking about him all the time, ignoring calls from "sortof-boyfriend" when we were together, and smiling every time i heard his voice. When "Tim" finally asked me out, i was still technically dating "sortof-boyfriend". I said yes right away, and then dumped "sortof-boyfriend" 4 days after that.


When "Tim" (I'll just call him Boyfriend now) and i started dating, My world changed completely. He was amazing. I fought and doubted my feelings for months, but he patiently chipped away at my bitterness with honest goodness. He cared about ME. He told me my feelings were important, helped me work through the jumbled mess that was my heart. We were completely in love. Using the "M" word came easily with Boyfriend. I couldn't imagine my life without him. But still i had to keep it a secret. I couldn't gush to my Mom about how amazing he was because i knew she would tell Dad. And Dad would get in his car and drive all 13 hours just to scare off the scum bag. So of course it was a huge shock when i brought him home for Thanksgiving.


That weekend was full of screaming and tears and anger. Dad ordered me to break up with him immediately or marry him within a year. There was no other alternative. He took Boyfriend into his office and grilled him for 2 hours. "are you ready to be her spiritual head and protection?" "How are you going to provide for your family?" Boyfriend and I escaped back to school with lots of questions for each other and ourselves. I told my parents we were thinking about their ultimatum and would eventually decide between the choices. We knew we wanted marriage eventually, but we decided it was no-ones decision but our own. We would wait out these college years together and then see what happened.....

(To Be Continued)

Part 1
Part 3

Tuesday, Bloody Tuesday

My poor Husband is taking a couple killer summer classes online right now and there seems to be no end to the homework. In an attempt to cheer him up (and not destract him from his work) I decided to bake him an apple pie.
In the absense of a dough cutter, i got creative and used my hand mixer to cut the butter into the flour of my pie crust. Big mistake. I shot flour and butter chunks all over the kitchen. There was butter stuck up inside the mixer so I stuck my finger in to clean it out.
Now when i say "hand mixer" i mean the one hand type with the switchable head. I had switched to the puree head for some reason, so when i accidentaly bumped the "on" button, the super-sharp blade came whiping around and punged into the side of my finger. I remember thinking, "woah i hit the power button! good thing it didnt cut my finger!"
And then of course it started to hurt. There was blood on the pie dough, the counter, the blender, the floor, the sink, and of course on me. I immediatly put my hand under the faucet and watched the water below my finger go orange. Husband, (destracted afterall) put papertowels and pressure on the bone-deep wound and went for the First Aid kit. At this point my CNA instincts kicked in and i was able to treat myself.
After a bit, Husband went back to the couch and I went back to my pie. I managed to make an entire lattice-top apple pie with a giant bandage wrapped around my finger.

Also, I think I'm still in shock.

CrackerJack

My Husband is in Canada this last week and a half on an annual fishing trip with the guys in his family. Consequently I have been alone every day without so much as a text from him. Today i felt randomly inspired and wrote him a song. It's better with music, but I thought I'd just post the word's here anyway.

It's called: Crackerjack

Here I am, talking to myself
Nothing that i do is right without you.
Here i am staring at these walls.
I think they miss your voice as much as I do.

I probly shouldn't say "i need you"
But I do.
I could probly get along without you,
but i don't want to!

Right now i should sing about the pain, and kissin' in the the rain,
But all I really wanna say is:

Come home baby!
I'm goin Crazy!
I had crackerjack for dinner cuz i didn't wanna cook for One.

Been thinkin' lately,
My life's no fairytale.
But i'd rather have your kisses than a castle and a crown and a thrown.

So Come Back Home <3

One Less Fear

The other day Husand and i were walking through a neighborhood near our apartment and we passed a house with three little girls playing in the garage. They were wearing tank tops and flip flops and dancing to an Avril Lavigne song blasting from a stereo.

When i was a kid i used to feel disdain when i saw girls like that. how dare they expose their shoulders, how dare they listen to the music of the Devil, and what if a man was walking by and saw them!? Obviously they would be kidnapped and raped on the spot. They deserved it. those sinful worldly 8 year olds.......

As a teenager i would have been jealous. and angry. why was i NEVER allowed to be normal? why did i have to miss out on having friends? why was i still struggling to keep up with my peers? it wasn't fair that i didn't get their jokes, it wasn't my fault that i grew up in a box. How dare my parents make me into such a retard? Who were they to hide the whole world from me? Why had they burdened me with all this shame and guilt that made me afraid to dance to the music, and too ashamed of my body to ever dress the way i wanted?

As we passed the house, the chubbiest girl with curly blonde pigtails looked up at me, her huge blue eyes were cheerful and innocent, completely oblivious to my conflicting thoughts, and suddenly i didn't feel disdain, or anger, or regret, i just felt really hopeful. Someday my children will be able to dance with their friends, some day my future daughter will be 8 years old and innocent, not even knowing what disdain is. I have the power to raise my children without guilt or shame, without anger or regret. They wont have to be outsiders, or fr eeks, they can just be kids.

I read a lot of blogs. By folks who lived through the same things i did. Many had it much worse. But you live your lives and raise your children so differently. It's beautiful to see and inspiring to read about. Your stories about your little families give me hope that My Kids wont have to live the life that i did. And that's just one more fear i don't have anymore :)