I just got to the end of the new series "When We Rise," based on Cleve Jones' book. Perhaps it's rather cliche for me to begin writing just after having seen a gripping film, but here I am again, affected by an idea, by a whole host of ideas, and contemplating my own existence as a result. I'm overwhelmed and awestruck at the immensity of how my life has been affected.
the new series "When We Rise," based on Cleve Jones' book.
Just a year ago even, it was all so fresh for me, so new. When DOMA (the Defense of Marriage Act) was overturned in the supreme court, I don't even think I realized at first. It was just another day. I was in Canada, I was about to leave for Europe, and I had pushed my own queer-ness to the back of my mind for the time. I wasn't ready to go back and work through it, even though I'd known so many years before. But what I didn't realize on June 26, 2015, was that just one year later I'd be planning my own queer wedding to the woman who is now my sweet wife.
I remember the day that British Columbia got gay marriage. 2003. I was just 11 years old, and I was told that it was a very dark day. I didn't understand what that meant at the time, but, apparently, equality was not considered a blessing. In 2005, all of Canada had legalized same-sex marriage. It took another 10 years for the United states to make that decision.
What I didn't see before today was the immensity of the struggle it took to get there. The marriage of two women was made legal just in time for us to make use of it. And we walked down the aisle and chose to love each other.
Still.
I may never have marched on Washington. I may never have been stabbed in a back alley for my sexual orientation. I may never have felt the stinging separation between lesbians and gays. But that does not mean I have been immune from the sting of discrimination or hatred. It does not mean that we have not spent long, dark nights crying, begging for things to be different. I was thrown out of college for who I love. I endured harassment, hate mail, and deceit because I am different. I lost a lot.
But while choosing to be honest about who I love has been difficult, I have also gained so much. Not only that, but I have grown immensely. My faith has been challenged and endured. Their attempt to thwart my future has only been met with my finding out even more of who I am (I'll be more than they dreamed I could be).
I'm not giving up.
Sunday, March 12, 2017
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
Journeys of a Question-Asker
It began with me loving nature. And I think the question-asking sprung from there.Everybody has a story. Why don't we listen more? Today I'm thinking about mine. I heard someone else's. Now I'm left with bigger questions, but I'm grateful for them.
Why am I here? Where will I go? How is it that I'm still riding this river, this journey that flows through peaceful channels and over turbulent, cascading waterfalls. I've been a Christian much of my life. But I've also been a Pagan, a Wiccan, a Hindu, a Buddhist, and always a Question-asker.
So I ask those questions. I won't feel bad for it.
“There is so much deep contradiction in my soul. Such deep longing for God - so deep that it is painful - a suffering continual - and yet not wanted by God - repulsed - empty - no faith - no love - no zeal. Souls hold no attraction - Heaven means nothing - to me, it looks like an empty place - the thought of it means nothing to me and yet this torturing longing for God. Pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything. For I am only His - so He has every right over me. I am perfectly happy to be nobody even to God. . . .
Your devoted child in Jesus Christ,
Mother. Teresa”
Why do I worry over my questions when I see, within the chaos in this world, so many beautiful answers. So many beautiful moments. So many terrifyingly incredible waves of catastrophic glory. So I am left here wondering, reveling in the chaotic masterpiece of my soul and the souls around me.
Let's listen to the masterpiece for a moment, let's stop to hear the sound of the beauty in the hypocrisy of our own hearts. Maybe those questions will be the most beautiful sounds we have heard in a long, long time.
Sheila
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Bulimia Update: One Year Later
Trigger warning: ED behaviours.
Today this memory popped up on my facebook feed.
Bulimia Update, January 17, 2016.
It's been a whole year. It's bizarre to realize how far I've come and how much has happened. At the time I said that going 4 days purge-free was common, that I'd even had a couple purge-free weeks. Now it's weeks and months that are common. In the past 3 months it's happened once. It's no longer a daily struggle. Yes the thoughts do enter my mind, but I've learned how to deal with them. It doesn't mean it is never a struggle. There are days - especially those alone days.
Still - most of the time, I'm fine. Why? First of all, I've been on medication for almost 2 years, and that has helped enormously. I've also been in therapy on and off, and that has also been a huge blessing. I learned more healthy coping mechanisms. I came out. Let me tell you, the amount of stress and pain from being closeted is absolutely monumental. Unspeakable! So while there was a lot of pain and struggle that was born of coming out, it was the beginning of the end of the constant inner pain.
So today, I press on, learning more about myself, my world, grateful for the progress I have made because, to quote myself a year ago,
"I'm making progress. Yes, there is hope. It is possible to overcome. But it's a journey, it's not just a single step."
Another step has been taken, and I'm so grateful.
-Sheila
Today this memory popped up on my facebook feed.
Bulimia Update, January 17, 2016.
It's been a whole year. It's bizarre to realize how far I've come and how much has happened. At the time I said that going 4 days purge-free was common, that I'd even had a couple purge-free weeks. Now it's weeks and months that are common. In the past 3 months it's happened once. It's no longer a daily struggle. Yes the thoughts do enter my mind, but I've learned how to deal with them. It doesn't mean it is never a struggle. There are days - especially those alone days.
Still - most of the time, I'm fine. Why? First of all, I've been on medication for almost 2 years, and that has helped enormously. I've also been in therapy on and off, and that has also been a huge blessing. I learned more healthy coping mechanisms. I came out. Let me tell you, the amount of stress and pain from being closeted is absolutely monumental. Unspeakable! So while there was a lot of pain and struggle that was born of coming out, it was the beginning of the end of the constant inner pain.
So today, I press on, learning more about myself, my world, grateful for the progress I have made because, to quote myself a year ago,
"I'm making progress. Yes, there is hope. It is possible to overcome. But it's a journey, it's not just a single step."
Another step has been taken, and I'm so grateful.
-Sheila
Friday, December 9, 2016
Christmas Presence
Yet, amidst studying for finals and probably the toughest university courses I've ever taken in my life, I am remarkably happy and ridiculously blessed. I am married to the most incredible person in the world - I have her by my side, and Christ as our centre. What could be better? This Christmas isn't the kind where we'll have a big pile of gifts under the tree - our tree is about a foot tall and I bought it at a thrift store for $2, but it's sweet and I love it. Our gifts? A few new clothes we've bought this fall for new jobs and such, and going to Canada for a week. Christmas day? It will be spent traipsing through airports and squished into airplanes, but we'll be together.
It's been the most difficult year, and yet also the most blessed. I married my best friend. We live simply but we're together. We are pursuing life - and right now that means college, and minimum wage, and tiny thrift store Christmas trees. What could be sweeter? My heart swells every time I see a red bow or a wreath - it's like all the light of Christmas and the blessed Christchild who came is bursting forth out of every decoration. Christmas isn't about the gifts or even the traditions - for this year is almost entirely without either, but it is about the joy that comes through Jesus Christ, and His work in each life to fulfill His purpose, even if it means going through the yucky stuff in the meantime.
So we are grateful.
Monday, September 5, 2016
Dance of Soul
I need to write so badly. I don't even know what will come out from my fingers, but the world around me spins ever faster, and sometimes I feel like I'm caught in the eye of the storm, watching but not feeling, and then all at once, all the joy and the pain descends like a great cloud. I would be lying, however, if I did not say that it was an immensely beautiful cloud, multifaceted, with many colours.
Recently I got the chance to dance. And if I'm not mistaken, I'll be dancing again very soon. I've been a musician pretty much all my life, even if I haven't been quite as active in the music world the past few years. Music still runs in my blood. Rhythm. Movement. Creation. Newness made from antiquity.
So I danced - at least, I moved. And then I was moving with another human I had never met. And we were creating beauty, and I felt, of a sudden, a depth and strength I hadn't felt since the height of my musical 'career.' I felt a oneness with all of the world around me.
That was when the cloud hit me. The emotion of the year, the chaos and beauty, the feelings pent up in the souls of those in the room around me, the campus, the nation, the world, all one great painting of soul and colour - all of it was wrapped up in a moment of movement outside of time.
And as find myself slipping in and out of time, giving in to the stresses of the lines and borders of this physical reality, I also see, through a misty blanket, that world of inner movement, the rainbow of the soul, and I realise that my problems pale in comparison to the Life I'm given and the Love that exists.
I can't figure everything out, and I can't solve all the problems. But I can find the worth in what has meaning and what doesn't.
<3 Love to all.
Sheila
Recently I got the chance to dance. And if I'm not mistaken, I'll be dancing again very soon. I've been a musician pretty much all my life, even if I haven't been quite as active in the music world the past few years. Music still runs in my blood. Rhythm. Movement. Creation. Newness made from antiquity.
So I danced - at least, I moved. And then I was moving with another human I had never met. And we were creating beauty, and I felt, of a sudden, a depth and strength I hadn't felt since the height of my musical 'career.' I felt a oneness with all of the world around me.
That was when the cloud hit me. The emotion of the year, the chaos and beauty, the feelings pent up in the souls of those in the room around me, the campus, the nation, the world, all one great painting of soul and colour - all of it was wrapped up in a moment of movement outside of time.
And as find myself slipping in and out of time, giving in to the stresses of the lines and borders of this physical reality, I also see, through a misty blanket, that world of inner movement, the rainbow of the soul, and I realise that my problems pale in comparison to the Life I'm given and the Love that exists.
I can't figure everything out, and I can't solve all the problems. But I can find the worth in what has meaning and what doesn't.
<3 Love to all.
Sheila
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Mental Health and our Spiritual Selves
I am not less spiritual because my mind is broken. I'm not sure where to begin with this, but it's an observation I've seen over and over, particularly within the Christian community. As a Christian, it has never crossed my mind that my mental struggles, no matter how they have played out physically, would affect thatat all. Honestly, my struggles with EDs and depression have caused me to run back to the Lord more than I ever would have, had my life been closer to perfect.
Perhaps the misconception comes from the idea that a mental health disorder has a spiritual root. This is the concept that a person's lack of spiritual health has lead to their mental demise. Although prevalent in many circles, this idea has several flaws.
Firstly, what does cause mental health disorders? What causes eating disorders? What causes depression? No two people are the same (hence the term 'individual'); we are all snowflakes. Yet there are some common threads that run through this huge family of individuals with mental health disorders. Genetics (yes!) and abuse (of any kind) are two of the most common culprits as roots for these kinds of struggles. Spiritual deficit is never the root.
Does our spirituality affect our mental health? Absolutely! Should we be praying for those who struggle with mental health issues? Without a doubt. Yet is the connection causative in nature? No. There is no more correlation between an eating disorder and our spiritual nature than there is between that nature and cancer. How the cancer is dealt with from within and in the community surrounding it changes greatly depending on how we cope spiritually.
As I struggle with this disorder, as it sometimes eats me up from the inside (both literally and figuratively), I have no choice but to bring the fight before God on a daily basis. Sometimes it means bringing Him with me into the dark places. Sometimes it means curling up in the palm of His hand afterward. Sometimes it means leaning on Him as I struggle to push off the desperate urges within me, begging for mercy this time.
Yet my seeking God for help cannot be done in isolation. Disorders of this kind, just like cancer or any other ailment, require treatment. For cancer, we immediately think chemo and radiation. For an infection, antibiotics. For a tumor, surgery. Mental health is no different than the health of the rest of the body. The mind needs medicine and therapy just like the arms and legs when they are injured. So I pray and I am prayed for, I lay my weary head in Christ's lap, and I take the steps in the physical world to do my best fighting with God's help.
But I do not have bulimia because I didn't seek God enough. I am not depressive because of some great sin. We fight diseases and disorders because something caused it - an event, a genetic influence, a microscopic organism or a traumatic event. Not because of the absence of spiritual commitment.
Perhaps the misconception comes from the idea that a mental health disorder has a spiritual root. This is the concept that a person's lack of spiritual health has lead to their mental demise. Although prevalent in many circles, this idea has several flaws.
Firstly, what does cause mental health disorders? What causes eating disorders? What causes depression? No two people are the same (hence the term 'individual'); we are all snowflakes. Yet there are some common threads that run through this huge family of individuals with mental health disorders. Genetics (yes!) and abuse (of any kind) are two of the most common culprits as roots for these kinds of struggles. Spiritual deficit is never the root.
Does our spirituality affect our mental health? Absolutely! Should we be praying for those who struggle with mental health issues? Without a doubt. Yet is the connection causative in nature? No. There is no more correlation between an eating disorder and our spiritual nature than there is between that nature and cancer. How the cancer is dealt with from within and in the community surrounding it changes greatly depending on how we cope spiritually.
As I struggle with this disorder, as it sometimes eats me up from the inside (both literally and figuratively), I have no choice but to bring the fight before God on a daily basis. Sometimes it means bringing Him with me into the dark places. Sometimes it means curling up in the palm of His hand afterward. Sometimes it means leaning on Him as I struggle to push off the desperate urges within me, begging for mercy this time.
Yet my seeking God for help cannot be done in isolation. Disorders of this kind, just like cancer or any other ailment, require treatment. For cancer, we immediately think chemo and radiation. For an infection, antibiotics. For a tumor, surgery. Mental health is no different than the health of the rest of the body. The mind needs medicine and therapy just like the arms and legs when they are injured. So I pray and I am prayed for, I lay my weary head in Christ's lap, and I take the steps in the physical world to do my best fighting with God's help.
But I do not have bulimia because I didn't seek God enough. I am not depressive because of some great sin. We fight diseases and disorders because something caused it - an event, a genetic influence, a microscopic organism or a traumatic event. Not because of the absence of spiritual commitment.
Friday, July 8, 2016
A Love Letter
Dear Body,
Hello there! I don't talk to you very much these days, I know. I'm sorry. But look at what you've accomplished! Look at what you've been through! Normally when I talk to you, it's bad things, and I don't even want to repeat them here, because this is a love letter. Today I feel good about you. No, nothing has changed - you're not more tan or more buff, you're not thinner or stronger and your skin isn't clearer, but you are my body, and the only one I'll have on this earth. I'm grateful for you. Shall we reminisce?
See those little poke-holes in your elbow? That's from when I gave blood over and over and over again - every chance I got! I gave it because 21 people gave blood for my Mama just after I was born, and because of them, she's alive. 1, 2, 3 on each side, and a couple of them are doubles. I'm going to keep giving, because her life is worth so much.
Oh, that spot where the hair always grows in! Ouch, hey? I know, it's a bugger. But it always happens, right there, no matter what, and it's just a part of this body, a tiny flaw that makes it this body, special and mine alone. Remember how every year as a kid I'd pick a 'special' leaf in my big leaf maple tree and visit it every day of the summer? It was always flawed in some way so it was special and mine. A tiny hole or misshapen edge made it special!
Oh that line on my legs where my favourite shorts land. Guess it shows I've been enjoying the summer just for me, not specifically to show off a perfect tan. You're beautiful even with tan lines, dear body.
There's that little triangular scar on my hand from when I worked at the organic farm when I was 14! I was cutting beautiful flowers in a hurry, do you remember? What a beautiful summer that was - and it was my first job! I learned so much there about food, plants, and the earth.
The two little scars on my face from chicken pox, those are on you from when I was just 4 years old in Switzerland. Kind of ruined the last couple weeks of vacation, but it made for some pretty cute pictures of a red-spotted little girl in the Swiss Alps with the cows.
And lookie there, the slightly in-turned toe that developed from walking all over campus getting an education. It was a challenging time, but such a good one, developing amazing relationships and stuffing my head full of incredible facts and learning what I am capable of.
You're beautiful, dear body.
There are the scars, the real ones that show, the ones I keep trying to hide by wearing skirts with my swimsuit. They weren't there last summer. I haven't known exactly how to feel about those scars on my leg. The ones on my shoulder, too. But body, you carry them well. They are evidence of pain and conquering, that I didn't give in to the depths, that Jesus held me in the darkest moments.
Funny, not all the things to look at are on the outside, are they, lovely body? Throughout the day I feel the effects of the challenges you've had to weather with me. Sometimes my throat burns hours after eating - my tummy just doesn't always stay as shut as it's supposed to, does it? But the more we practice, the better it gets. I'm sorry for the headaches you've endured and the bloodshot eyes, and the swollen glands that have come with my eating disorder. I promise I'm continuing to work on making that happen less and less.
You have bumps and lumps and callouses and moles, soft spots and hard spots, a knee that clicks when it's not supposed to, and arms that flare up in pain after the smallest exertion, but you are mine. You've carried through good times and bad. And I'm so grateful that I still have you, and that God has let me live in you, this beautiful, wonderful, perfectly flawed body.
Love always (I promise. Even when I don't show it),
Sheila <3
Hello there! I don't talk to you very much these days, I know. I'm sorry. But look at what you've accomplished! Look at what you've been through! Normally when I talk to you, it's bad things, and I don't even want to repeat them here, because this is a love letter. Today I feel good about you. No, nothing has changed - you're not more tan or more buff, you're not thinner or stronger and your skin isn't clearer, but you are my body, and the only one I'll have on this earth. I'm grateful for you. Shall we reminisce?
See those little poke-holes in your elbow? That's from when I gave blood over and over and over again - every chance I got! I gave it because 21 people gave blood for my Mama just after I was born, and because of them, she's alive. 1, 2, 3 on each side, and a couple of them are doubles. I'm going to keep giving, because her life is worth so much.
Oh, that spot where the hair always grows in! Ouch, hey? I know, it's a bugger. But it always happens, right there, no matter what, and it's just a part of this body, a tiny flaw that makes it this body, special and mine alone. Remember how every year as a kid I'd pick a 'special' leaf in my big leaf maple tree and visit it every day of the summer? It was always flawed in some way so it was special and mine. A tiny hole or misshapen edge made it special!
Oh that line on my legs where my favourite shorts land. Guess it shows I've been enjoying the summer just for me, not specifically to show off a perfect tan. You're beautiful even with tan lines, dear body.
There's that little triangular scar on my hand from when I worked at the organic farm when I was 14! I was cutting beautiful flowers in a hurry, do you remember? What a beautiful summer that was - and it was my first job! I learned so much there about food, plants, and the earth.
The two little scars on my face from chicken pox, those are on you from when I was just 4 years old in Switzerland. Kind of ruined the last couple weeks of vacation, but it made for some pretty cute pictures of a red-spotted little girl in the Swiss Alps with the cows.
And lookie there, the slightly in-turned toe that developed from walking all over campus getting an education. It was a challenging time, but such a good one, developing amazing relationships and stuffing my head full of incredible facts and learning what I am capable of.
You're beautiful, dear body.
There are the scars, the real ones that show, the ones I keep trying to hide by wearing skirts with my swimsuit. They weren't there last summer. I haven't known exactly how to feel about those scars on my leg. The ones on my shoulder, too. But body, you carry them well. They are evidence of pain and conquering, that I didn't give in to the depths, that Jesus held me in the darkest moments.
Funny, not all the things to look at are on the outside, are they, lovely body? Throughout the day I feel the effects of the challenges you've had to weather with me. Sometimes my throat burns hours after eating - my tummy just doesn't always stay as shut as it's supposed to, does it? But the more we practice, the better it gets. I'm sorry for the headaches you've endured and the bloodshot eyes, and the swollen glands that have come with my eating disorder. I promise I'm continuing to work on making that happen less and less.
You have bumps and lumps and callouses and moles, soft spots and hard spots, a knee that clicks when it's not supposed to, and arms that flare up in pain after the smallest exertion, but you are mine. You've carried through good times and bad. And I'm so grateful that I still have you, and that God has let me live in you, this beautiful, wonderful, perfectly flawed body.
Love always (I promise. Even when I don't show it),
Sheila <3
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