Small pleasures

Around a week ago, Ben Patrick Johnson posted some pictures and tweets about enjoying the simple pleasures in life. I was inspired to write something, but I couldn't get the words to flow until today.


It is so easy to forget to enjoy things you see every day. Taking people and places for granted is very very simple and only when they're gone can we see what we had. As a person born and raised in a first world country, it is also very easy for me to take things like running, drinkable water, three meals of fresh food per day, and clean clothes for granted. However, yesterday, I was met with the most awe inspiring experience I've had in months.

Yesterday was moving day. I left my home in Sweden and set off from Gothenburg to my new home in Dublin. Now, I easily get motion sick, so I wasn't looking forward to the flying in itself. I was very excited about seeing Boy again and experiencing a whole new city and country, but I was not looking forward to the flight.
To say that I was happily to be completely wrong would be an understatement. The medical gum I bought worked perfectly and the flight was calm and relaxing. The food was great, the crew was amazing, and the scenery was absolutely breath taking.

While chewing on a piece of still-steaming hot bread, I was suddenly struck by the sheer joy of looking out at a view no one had seen before the Wright Brothers managed to get their flying machine working.

It was perfection. Fluffy clouds, tainted in pink and white and gold, passed over a silver ocean dotted with cargo ships and a lone sail boat. On the horizon, pillars of blinding white clouds reached towards darker heavens, surrounding the blue and silver in a massive frame.

And it hit me that I was sitting in a can, cruising at 12000 meters above the North Sea, watching this amazing view on my way to see the love of my life-so-far.

Finally being ably to hug him again, after four months apart, was so nice. Just a hug made my heart beat faster and I didn't even mind the rain.
The best part of landing in Dublin was just snuggling down in a warm bed and doing nothing, after meeting the two great people we're sharing apartment with, and after a pint of Guinness at a kind of cute pub down the road.

Being stressed out over a hundred big things makes me really appreciate the small pleasures where I get them. Just spending the morning in bed, talking to my parents on Skype, touching Boy whenever I feel like it, and just feel good.

Show appreciation and enjoy life, especially when "nothing is happening". You never know when that calm will be over and you'll long for it again.

DFTBA

BPJ Inc: Cheshire's Land

Appropriate tattoo is appropriate.

      I drew the concept, the artist made the final version. The quote is from Bruce Dickinson's "Darkness Be My Friend"

Sometimes, I wake up to one of those days, when everything seems like the world is just a coat of paint away from being Wonderland. I can never be entirely certain if it's good or bad, but it's always interesting. For a while, I wasn't sure if it was my medication, my over-active imagination, or if I was going completely mad.

Yesterday was one of those days. I woke from a weird dream about my boss being angry because Boy and I was late for tea at a cafe at the North Pole. Then I realized that the phone was playing "The Ship's Going Down" by Voltaire for the third day in a row (my alarm shuffles through the songs on my phone and picks a random song as alarm signal. Well, it's supposed to.)

Went to work after being followed around the house by my sister's dog. He's a cutie, but he's as bad as Boy's grandma when it comes to actually using words to express what he wants.

Then there were Ben Patrick Johnson being goofy about twitter recommendations, which nearly made me spray my work computer with coffee. Female pornstars and cats. Sure, why not.
My co-worker was her usual, not quite there self. I love her dearly, but she gives life to the saying "The wheel's spinning, but the hamster is dead."

And then tortoise in alcohol.  Seriously, tortoise in alcohol. Why is there a tortoise in alcohol, BPJ?

Eyelash batting, pussy power (Cats! Mind out of the gutter!), and multiple Ben's, oh my! I have yet to try drinking wine in the shower, though I have tried mixing Powerking-And-Moonshine with MMORPG. It gets really interesting when suddenly- two screens!

And no, I'm not drunk, though that is an idea. Trust me, I can get a lot weirder than this without getting drunk. Just ask the Elementary School children subjected to the impromptu duet of HIM's "Join Me" me and Jackson performed, or the rewriting of "Rudolph, The Red-nosed Reindeer" also, courtesy Jackson. Also, I have work tomorrow, and I would rather not add a hang-over to bored-stiff.

And so, my really weird day ended with an extended rant on body shaming.

I think my point with this post is that you should allow weirdness into your life. Be childish and weird and goofy. The world is not fair and life is a serious thing, so make it more interesting by being random. People will stare, but so what? Should the pettiness of others prevent you from living life in a great way?

DFTBA

Rant me a river

I don't like to write posts when I'm angry, but this time I will. It's about body shaming, which is a nasty thing and so infesting our culture that this post will most likely piss a lot of people off.

Background

I am fat.
There's no getting a-round that (see what I did there?) I am 173 cm tall (5'8" for non-metric people) and I weigh 120 kg (265 lbs). This means that I am fat. Over-weight. Obese. Rotund. Tubby.

WHATEVER.

1. My body is in great condition. At my last check-up about five months ago all levels where in the normal range, even my blood pressure. I can run up four sets of stairs without getting winded, and I have asthma. Now, imagine lugging 50 kg on your back up four staircases and not get winded.

I can swim 3 km in under 40 minutes, and this after not being a competitive swimmer since I was 13 years old. I can walk 7.2 km in under an hour. Before I moved to my parents' house this past Friday, I rode my bike back and forth to work every day, Monday through Friday.

But apparently, I am unhealthy because I'm fat. Apparently, I need more exercise and I need to loose weight to get healthy. Apparently, I am lazy.

2. I shower every day. I can't use perfume, because of my asthma, but I use a perfume free deodorant. I am always chewing sugar-free gum, because I am very conscious of my breath. 

Yet, when I go shopping, I can see the store clerks look at me in disgust. When they see me, they see a fat woman, and they assume I have bad hygiene. I have seen looks of surprise when I pass them and they scent no BO. Just soap and the almond scent of my body lotion. Yes, I know this is the case, because I am apparently just not smelly, I am deaf too. I've heard the clerks discussing their surprise at my lack of nasty smell.

3. I aced my national tests. I have an IQ of 115. My high school grade was a B+ average, even though I didn't open a single book my senior year. I can find connections and co-relations in basically any subject. I read Ancient Civilizations, astrophysics, and watch Numberphile because I think it's fun.

Yet, I have had people offer to help explain things to me for the most basic of assignments. I've had people talk to me like I'm an idiot, patronizing the hell out of me, while pointing to whatever I asked for. I've seriously had a librarian say "Are you sure? That book might be too difficult for you" when I asked for a book by Stephen Hawking. Bitch, I can read a 300 page novel in a DAY! Why would a book be too hard for me, when I specifically ask for it?

Boy and I on our wedding day.

Actual Topic

OK, I'm calm now.
The point of this post is this - Do NOT judge people before you get to know them. Body shaming helps no one. All bodies are beautiful. Skinny bodies, fat bodies, medium bodies. Tall bodies, short bodies. ALL Bodies Are Beautiful. The shape of the body does not equal health, fitness, intelligence, or hygiene, as shown by the studies linked below (Yes, I did my research).

Every time a child is born it is a miracle. The odds against life in the Universe are literary astronomical. At any moment, an asteroid can slip past Jupiter's pull and hurdle straight for Earth.
Only one in four attempts at getting pregnant is successful. Carrying a child to term is very hard on the body and miscarriage is always a possibility. Just reaching the age of one year old is a hardship in most of the animal kingdom, including humans.

To see an adult human being should be associated with awe at the stubbornness of life, not with disgust, shame, or prejudice. That human has faced the odds and survived them to encounter you, who also faced the odds and conquered them, at that moment in time. Meeting someone is just awesome!

DFTBA

Important links

BMI
Exercise is good, y'all.
Genetics
Fat warning, *legasp*
Because SCIENCE

The road goes ever on...

In five days, I will be leaving Swedish soil and make my way to a new life in a new country. For four months now, I have been preparing myself for this - packing, throwing away things, donating other things. Paperwork and re-arrangements. Cleaning out both cupboards and memories.

By all accounts, I should be either freaking out or feeling separation anxiety, but I just feel excitement. True, I am not looking forward to flying. I get so ill when I fly and if it's one thing I really really hate, it's being nauseous. However, the wanderlust in me is like an over-happy puppy, bouncing around and wagging its tail.

It's so very hard to explain why I don't feel sad about leaving.
I have really good friends here. There are places in this town and in the neighboring townships that I love with a burning passion. And yet, I feel no sadness waving goodbye to all of that. I will miss my friends, that's for sure, but somehow I have this feeling that they won't be gone even though I won't see them every day. Maybe it's because of my mental compartmentalizing. Maybe it's because I'm used to saying goodbye and/or not having close friends. JerkBrain is trying to shame me with "You just don't care about anyone but yourself"and I do feel bad about not feeling bad, but then I mentally shrug and go back to being excited.

I have never really had one place that I call 'home'. Where I've lived either have painful memories attached or have just been temporary. I have felt like I'm mid transfer all my life, always moving towards somewhere else. This is the first time I've ever felt that I am going to move home, and it has nothing to do with the place and everything with seeing Boy again. Everything here is so familiar that it is a part of who I am. Boy is someone who is not a part of my past. He is not a part of the hurt and the frustration.

This town holds memories, both bad and good. Dublin is completely new to me, and I live for new adventures. Going to Dublin is like running out on a diving board, jumping to gain momentum and height, then flying in a perfect arc before diving into the water, body sliding like a knife through the water surface.
Leaving is just like stepping out of a cage to feel warmth on my face.

BPJ Inc: Forgiveness

If you haven't understood it already, this blog doesn't really have a common theme other than "This is interesting. Let's talk about it". so I hope not too many people will be surprised as I turn from spanking and BDSM to the concept of forgiveness.

Backstory

Nah, I'm not doing this this time. People (yes, me too) can be ass hats. End of story.

Actual Topic

Forgiveness is a very abstract concept and something that has been debated for millennia. Punishing those who have wronged us is part of one of the earliest finds of recorded text in history. All religions have some law or story about forgiving those who have wronged us and punishing those who are evil. All countries in the world have laws about how to behave. All communities have norms and moral values.

Apologizing for something you've done that caused someone else pain can sometimes be really hard. Apologizing sincerely and without putting pressure on the injured party is even harder. (See this video for reference on how NOT to apologize). Forgiving someone who has not apologized to you is seen as impossible by many.

Forgiving someone is not about the person apologizing, though. It is about how the injured party feels.

When I find it in me to forgive those who have hurt me, I let go of resentment and bitterness. Forgiving someone is like slamming a door in their faces and saying "You no longer have a room in my mind, my heart, or in my life." A recently published study in the SPPS even links health benefits to forgiving others.

HOWEVER, forgiving a person does not mean you forgive what they did. I have forgiven those who bullied me for five years, but I will NEVER forgive the bullying. Forgiving my bullies meant that I let go of the bitterness I held towards them. I will always take a stand against bullying, because abuse is always wrong. 

Thinking about apologizing as taking responsibility for my actions also removes any shame I might feel about the act of apologizing. I hurt someone, intentionally or not, and I am strong enough to admit my misdeed and apologize for what I did. Remembering that I can't demand forgiveness also drills home my responsibility I have when it comes to my words and actions.

Be kind, be considerate, and remember that only you is exactly like you. You will unavoidably hurt others and you will be hurt. It's life. How you react to it decides how you will live.

DFTBA

BPJ Inc: Nibblies

I am not wigging out about flying to Ireland in about a week!! *obscure Eddie Izzard reference*


Today's topic over at Ben Patrick Johnson's twitter is about playful spankings, and what a person might do to earn that fun from their significant other. Now, I have mentioned my BDSM preferences in the past, but some people might not be as obsessive about reading back logs as I am, so let's start with that.

I am a masochistic submissive with a mischievous streak a mile wide. This means that I am usually on the receiving end of any spankings handed out.

...Don't need to use too much to convince me that handing out spankings is a good thing... Just sayin'

- Boy

Boy and I met in 2006, at another mind-numbingly boring thing the employment agency conjured up to make the statistics look better. That time it was different classes meant to improve our chances of landing a job. At the time, I was still recovering from getting rejected by a love interest, but Boy and I immediately became friends and most likely made life very... let's say 'interesting'... for the people trying to teach us things. Two months of hanging out in class and being goofs during breaks, we became an "item". We got engaged on Dec 31 2006 and we got married on Sept 13 2014. April 9 2015 was our 9 year anniversary. Which brings me to Today's Topic.

On April 9 2006, I called Boy and asked him if he wanted to come over and hang out, maybe watch a movie, or something. He came over, he said Hi to my parents, and we went to my room (I was 20 years old at the time, as was he). We talked, goofed around, and I popped Moon Child into the DVD player. At some point during the movie, I decided to start tickling Boy, and things kind of escalated from there. Turns out Boy is -extremely- ticklish. Turns out that I -really- like strong hands restricting the movement of my arms.

Most of what I know about my sexual preferences have come from tickling Boy and him trying to get away. Leaving crumbs in the bed, tickling Boy, or just being a tease can earn me a spanking. Spanking, and other similar things, is a game for us. Both of us like it and it's pleasurable. Having fun and gaining pleasure is the core of BDSM for us.

BDSM stands for Bondage Discipline Dominance/Submission Sadism/Masochism. Spankings would fall under the DSM parts. It can be playful, naughty, and a game. It can be intimate, a way to push limits, and to "punish" a sub in a Scene. Spankings can be used to warm up the skin for heavier play or a way to put all Scene participants in the right state of mind. 

Some like punches to chest and thighs. 

Some like open hand spanking, some prefer tools. Tools can include paddles, canes, crops, whips, floggers, and belts. Most of those sting. A flogger has more of a thudding impact, while the pain from a whip depends on the number of tails. A single-tail stings more than a nine-tail. 

If you use an open palm to spank a partner, remember that full hand impact stings more than grazing with just fingers. An impact with just the meat of the bottom of your palm is more like a punch.

I guess if you want to be a tease, use your fingers to spank with. It gives an impact, but let's the person sit down without cringing too much. Slapping someone's butt right before dinner with the in-laws is just evil (but fun). Yes, I speak from experience, and yes, I was on the receiving end.

No matter what you prefer, remember to always make sure it's ok. Spanking a stranger is creepy and wrong. Spanking your partner can be sexy.

DFTBA

BPJ Inc: Let's Talk

  SEX

Now that's out of the way, let's get to the topic of today. As you might have guessed, today's BPJ Inc is about sex. I know many of you are uncomfortable with this subject, so I hope you're using your judgement in matters like these. Also, please refrain from reading this if your laws prohibit it. I can't stop you, but it's on your heads if you get offended or in trouble.

We good? Let's get started.

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First of all, I want to give some advice on getting together with someone for the first time. When you have decided that you want to do the horizontal folk dance and both/all of you are consenting, there are really only three things to remember.

1. Use protection. 

2. No, seriously. Use protection!

3. STIs are no joke. Be safe.

STIs can also be transmitted orally, so do remember to protect your tongue and mouth as well.

If a penis wielding person claims they're too big for a condom, walk away. You can pull a condom from your toes to your knee without it breaking, like so.

If they're too big to use a condom, they're too big to fit inside you. Remove yourself from that situation before you get hurt.

When you've decided to get sticky, remember the lube. Condoms can tear if there's too much friction. Either get that foreplay action going and/or get some condom safe lube. You can never use too much lube. Many a bad situation can come from a torn condom. You do not want that to happen to you.

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Actual Topic.

The topic over at Ben Patrick Johnson's twitter was "What do you like about sex?" so now that the impromptu sex ed portion is over, let's get to that part.

I like sex. It feels good. The intimacy with my partner is amazing. The post-coital cuddling is really comforting. I like to cuddle any time I can, but there's something special about cuddling after a mind blowing orgasm.

I love how sex can make me forget social rules, norms, and regulations. Sex with Boy makes me feel beautiful and sexy. The look in his eyes during intercourse makes me feel like the most important person in the world, and looking at him makes me forget everything except the moment and the gorgeous man I'm with.

"But... you don't like sex. Aren't you asexual?" I don't feel like going into this again. Repeating myself gets boring. Go here instead. It's a great Q&A about being ace.

Kissing, hugging, cuddling, and being so close to someone I love is amazing. 

There's also the mischievous part of me who enjoys talking about sex, especially with my mother. She was a midwife for her entire career and normally has not even an inkling about what shame is when it comes to intercourse and procreation. Growing up, The Talk consisted of my mom dumping a box of condoms in front of me and saying "You know what these are for. Use them." Finding ways to make my otherwise shameless mother blush when talking about sex was a goal of mine. I was 18 or 19 when I finally found it. BDSM. Also, telling all members of my FoO to not ask me questions they really don't want to know the answer to amuses me greatly. They tend get so awkward and flustered.

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Final comment

The point of this thing is that sex isn't scary, nasty, sinful, or dirty. Experienced between consenting adults, it can be beautiful, peaceful, and pleasurable. All humans are different and experience intimacy differently. I love being touched. It doesn't matter if it's in a platonic or sexual way. Some people don't like being touched at all. Some people crave sex and some don't want it at all. Celebrate the differences, cherish the varied experiences, and communicate what you want.

And stay awesome.

BPJ Inc: Helping...

....Or the value of coping tools.

Background (or my experience)

Before I start, I'd like you to try something.
Sit comfortably and close your eyes.
Gently- GENTLY- press your palms against your eyes to the point right before it starts to hurt.
Now hold that pressure for a minute.
Seeing sparks and flickers in your vision? Let go, open your eyes and try to focus on something.
It's hard, isn't it?

Now imagine experiencing that kind of out of focus life for 15 years straight.

That was my life. I couldn't focus on anything. I walked around in a constant daze, with no idea what caused it or what to do about it. I looked at my hands and they didn't feel like my own. I looked out at the world and felt like I was looking through a mask. My peripheral vision was compromised and my focus was not happening.
When I talked about getting help, I was met with disbelief and sometimes even hostility.
"You don't need that."
"Just snap out of it."
"Have you tried to not be so gloomy?"
"You'd feel so much better if you stopped being so emo."

Things didn't improve a whole lot after I got help. To say that I've been to see some absolutely stupid mental health care professionals would be an understatement. (Yes, I am aware that I obviously haven't found a therapist that works for me, and the methods of the therapists I've met just didn't work for me. I call the people I did meet stupid because of their absolute lack of willingness to change their methods, even after they noticed that what they were doing wasn't helping, or even working.)

I slammed head first into a mental and emotional breakdown on a Saturday in March 2013. The stress and pressure to perform at more than 100% (full time studies and part time work) all the time got to be too much and I couldn't take it anymore. I did nothing but lay on my bed or on the sofa, crying, for two days. I had troubles breathing and my pulse was either frantic or barely noticeable. On Monday, I went to the doctor's office and was immediately put on sick leave. In May 2013, I started on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication, and suddenly, I could see again. The world became so beautiful as I could focus. In connection with this sick leave, I was diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder, chronic Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Borderline Personality Disorder (so many pretty names, right?) 

Actual Topic

The problem with mental health and mental disorders is that all humans are different. Our brains are made of millions of electric pathways firing at different times and because of different reasons. The levels of neurotransmitters and hormones in each person's brain differs from everyone else'. Because of this, I can only use my own brain as an example. I can't generalized other than when describing the definitions in DSM-5 (mental health handbook).

The one thing I have learned is the importance of two things - access to coping tools and asking for help when you need it. These two things are difficult for different reasons, but can be very important, especially when your mind is turning on you and the JerkBrain is chanting its message of self-hate to you.

Firstly, coping tools.
These can be anything, really. I made a box of items that help me stay grounded and calm. A collection of classical music, a plush toy that's been with me since I was 6 months old. A sketch pad and pencils. Notes from friends telling me positive things they think about me.
I also have an arsenal of mental coping tools I use, for example breathing patterns (breathe in slowly, hold my breath while counting to 8, breathe out slowly) and creating a mind scape of calm and peace (helps if you can conjure images in your mind at will, but not necessary). I had some very bad coping tools in my past, and I DO NOT recommend anyone to use pain or danger to get through distress.

Which brings me to the second thing - asking for help.
Admitting vulnerability can be like digging a ditch with a teaspoon. It's very, very hard to admit that we need other people. Society dictates that the individual has to be independent and self-sufficient. However, admitting that I need other people have given me a sense of independence I've never felt before. The hard part for me is that I don't want to inconvenience my friends and family. It took me years to internalize that they actually WANT to help me, but that they don't want to bother me. Asking for help when I need it makes both them and me feel useful and significant. As someone living with BPD, the fear of being abandoned if I am a bother has in the past prevented me from seeking help from family and friends, which in turn caused a brain meltdown. Remember that most people in your social circle like you for who you are and want to be there when you need them (just remember to return the favor when you're able).

Every human alive is a miracle, if compared to the grand scale of things. We are tiny in the universe and that makes our very existence a miracle of epic proportions.


DFTBA

BPJ Inc: Made to pass

In the first post , I mentioned how the topic splintered into a multitude of other subjects, each very interesting. One of these were the issue of "straight-acting".

The phrase in itself seems innocuous enough, but when you look at it more closely, a slew of red flags pop up, at least in my mind. Since I love list type presentations, I will be doing one, focusing on three main questions.

What is "straight-acting"?
Any sub-categories?
Why is it an issue?


What is "straight-acting"?

Wikipedia defines straight-acting as not adhering to what is typically seen as gay mannerisms, effeminate and feminine/butch and "manly", that is. This includes male-identifying homosexual people who do not act in a stereotypical feminine way, and female-identifying homosexual people not acting in the stereotypical "butch" way.
Straight acting focus on the stereotypes of hetero-normative male and female roles, as well as the stereotypes connected with lesbians and gay men. 

"Some gay men want to achieve hegemonic masculinity to overcome gay effeminate images" - Shinsuke Eguchi, 2009. Eguchi, along with Tim Berling, also proposes a possible connection to the phenomenon of sissyphobia (the fear of presenting oneself as effeminate).

Sub-categories

Urban Dictionary mentions Lipstick Lesbian as a possible sub-category to Straight Acting. According to the Dictionary, a Lipstick Lesbian is a feminine presenting lesbian, usually interested in make-up, clothes, flowers, and lingerie. A Lipstick Lesbian does not adhere to the stereotype of a lesbian as a butch female.

Why is this an issue?

Anytime something is there to perpetuate a stereotype, we need to approach it with care, but make sure that the stereotype is questioned. When it comes to the term "straight-acting", not only one stereotype is used. This one term is making use of the hetero-normative stereotypes of male and female roles, as well as the social stereotypes on how homosexual individuals should behave. As with all stereotypes, defining an individual based on a single, socially constructed idea ("butch", "bull dyke", "flaming", "queen", "sissy") can be extremely damaging, so of course there will be people who want to rebel against simplistic categories. Sadly, fighting one stereotype by adopting another just pushes the problem in front of us.

On the other hand, the use of straight-acting can be just a way of describing a desired attribute, both in oneself and in a partner. Straight-acting dot com challenges the idea that acting more masculine as a gay male or more feminine as a lesbian  is somehow trying to deny who you are. "Don't discriminate against people that express their preference!" - StraightActing.com
Questioning the "acting" part may also cause pain if it's done without consideration. "Men who use the expression 'straight-acting' may express resentment that critics claim the term implies they are acting and not being their true selves." - Jay Clark

Ending thoughts

In a world in which covering is prevalent in all kinds of media, in a world in which children face persecution by their peers for not adhering to stereotypical mannerisms, it is a logical thought to want to hide at least parts of who you are. However, we, as bystanders, do not have the right to make judgements or question someone else' presentation of self. Who are we to criticize? We can't know if someone is acting to fit in or if it's their personality. We do not have the right to decide what is right or wrong for someone else.
All we have the right to do is offer support, generosity, and kindness. 


DFTBA

Memories

I firmly believe that each day is an opportunity, not only for growing and seeing the world's beauty, but to learn new things. The day my curiosity is sated is the day I will fade away, because I am no longer needed. Seeing as the Universe is what it is and human nature is what it is, I don't think this thirst for knowledge will ever be satisfied.

Example - Yesterday, Boy and I were discussing the possibility of progression of time at a point in which space time was not yet solidified. Two primary thoughts came from this, both of which I tweeted (see what I did there?)

1. If space time was not a thing until after Big Bang, how can we tell how old the known universe is? Or how big the whole Universe is?

2. Try to imagine a point in which everything and nothing, all time and no time, is the same. Makes me feel insignificant, and like a miracle.

But these thoughts are for another post. I just wanted to give an example of why I love learning new things.

Today, I want to write about the power of memories.

Sometimes, what I learn makes me feel awkward, sad, or physically ill. The other day, I learned that old memories can have this effect on me. Going through boxes I haven't opened in almost six years, I find items intricately bound to memories. Some memories are really good, some hurt because they remind me of loved ones I have lost to time and aging. And some are just a punch to my chest, a hand of barbed ice crushing my heart.

Two days ago, I dug out a small book bound in black leather from one of the more banged up boxes. As soon as I saw it, I started to feel sick. In the back of my mind, a small voice was screaming for me not to open the book, but I ignored it.

It was just a simple note book, filled with words. Every line of every page was filled with words, hastily scribbled in a messy font. My handwriting. My words. Some pages had titles at the top and some had dates at the bottom.  None of the words held any meaning on their own, but together they formed an image of a person who even in a book meant only for her, she carefully weighed her words, making them equally light and dark. A balance of neutrality.

I threw the book in the pile of items I will burn as soon as I can, then I had to fight waves of nausea the rest of the evening.

Memories are just electric paths formed in our brains by repeated exposure, like paths traveled by deers in a forest. Yet, these paths trigger all kinds of responses in our bodies. Memories shape who we are, experiences carved into our minds and bodies. The rhyme says that "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." I call bull on that. I look at the scars littering my arms and legs and feel nothing. No shame, no remorse, no pain. I read words I wrote as a lost child age 15, and I have problems breathing.  

My brain is a bit odd. My ability to compartmentalize is absolute, sometimes in ways that spook people I talk to. It is almost a self imposed fugue state, separating the states in my mind in order to keep a clear head. (I am well aware that I am not suffering from dissociative fugue. I am not trying to self diagnose. Fugue is just the best way I can think of to explain how my mind works.) I guess I developed this way of compartmentalizing memories to save myself from pain. This way, I can pick out any memory I want and look at it, enjoy it, then put it back.

Memories make us who we are. They shape our personalities, our thought processes, and how we see the world. Memories have the power to hurt us, but also to lift us up.

In the words of Shane Koyczan:

but our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain

and more to do with beauty

                                    - To This Day

DFTBA

BPJ Inc: Kindness and community

I follow this guy named Ben Patrick Johnson on twitter and with some regularity he throws out a question or a topic for his followers to discuss. Surprisingly, the discussions do not devolve into name calling and hostility. Unfortunately, 140 characters is just too short to express coherent and in-depth thoughts.

So, I've decided to make another series called "BPJ Inc" in which I take topics I find fascinating and expand on my thoughts on them (while trying to get at least some people to go check this guy's feed.)

Kindness and community

Yesterday's discussion started with an article posted at medium dot com, but it quickly moved in about a hundred different directions while still sticking to the subject of kindness, community and inclusion vs exclusion.

My thought on the matter is simple:

Treat everyone with the respect, dignity, and kindness they deserve. If you can't do more, at least treat others the way you want to be treated. If you can, see to their needs and treat them as they would be treated.

Someone replied to me with the sentiment that if we give out kindness and honest compliments too freely, we become desensitized and being kind becomes as commonplace as a "good morning". I'm not sure this is entirely a bad thing. Imagine a world in which kindness and respect is no longer an extraordinary experience, but so common in your everyday life that you not only take it for granted, but CAN take it for granted because it will always be there.

Sadly, I was reminded that we don't live in that world yet. Every time someone is called a predator because of something they can't control, every time someone is accused of misdeeds without any evidence, we slip further away from a future in which humans can be humans without social stigma.

No one chooses their sexuality. Saying that sexuality is a choice is as stupid and ignorant as saying that eye color is a choice. And really, if it was a choice, why would anyone choose to be part of the LGBTQIA community? Why would anyone choose constant ridicule, humiliation, and bullying? Why would anyone choose social stigma and hatred?

I was the target of relentless ridicule and humiliation long before I discovered my sexuality. I prayed every night to be normal. Why would I pick a sexuality that puts me in the fringes of an already stigmatized community?

Bisexuals are not predators.
Homosexuals are not pedophiles.
Trans* people are not confused.
And neither are queer people.
Asexuals are not broken or damaged.

We can all stand to be more accepting and kind to each other. Then maybe, one day, we won't be divided into categories and pitted against each other. Then maybe, we will all be just Human. As humans, we all have great potential to do harm, but also infinite potential of generosity, caring, and curiosity.


DFTBA

New prospects

At the end of this month I will be moving to Dublin. This will be the first time I move to another country for an extended stay without any plans of returning to Sweden.
Sure, I have spent time abroad before.
During the school year of 2003/04 I lived in Las Vegas, Nevada, which was one of the best and most rewarding experiences of my life.
In 2002, I spent a month in Southern Africa, which taught me more about myself, my privileged life, and the world than I ever even imagined was possible.
However, I always knew that I would be returning to Sweden after the end of the stay. This time, I don't know when, or if, I will be returning to Sweden.
Boy got a contract with Hewlett-Packard of at least a year. HP is already talking about promoting him. IBM is fighting to hire him. Boy is an IT architect and finally got a foot in at a junior level.

The prospect of migrating to another country is in equal parts exciting and anxiety inducing. I go from ecstatic about New Thing to nervous as all hell about moving and packing and papers and flying and New Place-New People-New City.

Maybe things would be easier if I didn't already live with all the wonderful effects of distress symptoms, depression, general anxiety, and social anxiety. I work my hardest to not let those things have too much of an impact on my day-to-day life, but it is a fact that I get exhausted rather quickly. Moving to a new place with a lot of Unknowns is racketing up points on the Anxiety Scale at an alarming pace and I am using all tools I have to keep from having a panic attack. Right now, my life is exceptionally strictly planned in order to keep me sane. Any and all changes without prior notice upset my balance and make me feel the ice cold tendrils of anxiety.

Anxiety is not "feeling nervous". Anxiety is not "I just need to calm down". For me, anxiety is the inability to think, inability to plan ahead, and inability to come down from stress. It's the weeks of sleep deprivation, of too much energy while being absolutely exhausted. It's adrenaline and nor-epinephrine shooting through every nerve and leaving me feeling exposed, lonely, and raw.

Don't get me wrong, I am so very excited about moving. I've been wanting to visit Ireland for many many years and to be able to live there is filling me with happiness. The new opportunities I see before me makes me want to bounce around in joy.
The moving in itself is the hard part. Packing away, throwing away, and selling eight years of accumulated stuff. Sorting out what I want to bring and can bring, and things I want to bring, but have to ask my parents and/or friends to bring at a later time. Going through things I once thought I couldn't live without, but now are of no use at all.

Depression is not "I feel sad". Depression is not "life really sucks right now". Depression is not "I deserve something better than this". For me, depression is the crushing feeling of being irrelevant to the world. For me, depression is not having enough energy to feel any kinds of feelings or even get out of bed in the morning. It's the thought that nothing has enough purpose to be bothered with. It's not making my bed, because I'll just sleep in it again anyway. It's eating bread without butter or toppings, because meh can't be bothered.

And in the midst of this Don't Care whirlwind there's the eye of the storm that is DUBLIN! A fresh start and all those cliches. The opportunity to let the past pains be nothing more than memories that shaped the person I am.
A new place with people who will only know the person I am now - strong, confident, and independent, not the frightened, lonely girl I used to be.

22 days to go.

Staking my claim on myself

I am a feminist.
I believe in this crazy notion that all humans, regardless of gender identity and/or gender expression should have the right to go after their dreams, to enjoy life their way, and find happiness and forge meaning wherever possible, as long as it doesn't harm anyone else.

This is why I completely do a flip-table (seen "Thor"? Yeah, like that) when so-called feminists bash down my ways of forging meaning and finding happiness as "pandering to patriarchy" or "too compliant".


Open letter to the so-called feminist who decided to shame me,

You need a better hobby. You thought that calling me a slut would make me less inclined to follow whoever I want on twitter, talk about whatever I want on this blog, and less inclined to call out stupidity as I see it.
I guess you are disappointed now.

This whole thing started when this woman decided to call me a slut and a whore, then go into a rage about me being too lenient about my sexual freedom (yeah, I know). Unfortunately, none of my four sexual relationships have made me any money. I don't even know how to respond to the slut part, except... Really? You call yourself a feminist and yet you find it prudent to slut shame someone?

I have had four (4) sexual partners in my 29 year long life. HOWEVER, even if I had had 40, 400 or 4000 sexual partners, it would be NONE of YOUR BUSINESS. As long as all partners are safe, consenting, and above the legal age, why should it be anyone else' business who you have sex with?

And then you rage at me for pandering to patriarchy when I tell you I am not attracted to people sexually. Ever heard of asexuality? Yes, it's a thing. Learn to use a search engine.

You might want to sit down for this part. I am about to shock your closed off little mind (see what I did there?)

I am a consenting sexual participant.
I am sexually submissive because it gives me pleasure.
I take pain and I relish in it, because I FUCKING LIKE IT.
I submit my will and my control to Boy, because I trust him to not abuse that trust. The experience of having that trust rewarded is better than any adrenaline high I've ever had. The look of absolute adoration, pure lust, and undiluted love in his eyes when he takes what I give and returns it is total bliss for me.
I let him tie me up and take a crop to my body because the blending of pain and pleasure in my mind is a rush not unlike laughing until my jaws ache.

I beg him to push my limits past the point of fear, into a state of pure peace and tranquility, because to me, there's no other sensation like it. Perfect clarity, being absolutely present in the moment, in the space I inhabit.
Every sensation amplified into a brilliant kaleidoscope.
Add an orgasm to that state of mind and there is NOTHING but harmony.
Nothing but pleasure, touch, connection, and harmony.

How DARE you try to make this into something dirty? How dare you try to make me question my own ability to consent to something I enjoy? Something that feels so damn good?

You claim to stand for women's right to be who they are, but you would have me deny myself what I want, because it doesn't fit your comfort zone? You claim to promote the right for women to find happiness and forge meaning, yet you want me to step away from something that gives me pleasure and happiness, because I happen to like being submissive to my partner?

Fuck. You.

Sincerely,
Johey.

OK, so this turned out a bit more frustrated than I had hoped. It just really pisses me off when people who claim to be allies, advocates, or a part of something turn out to be total hypocrites.

Never let anyone make you feel ashamed of who you are and what you like.

If it harm none, do what ye like.

DFTBA

Hiding in a rainbow

I am a outspoken and loud advocate and ally of the LGBTQIA community. I believe that one day, all humans will be a part of something larger than themselves. That one day, we will not let our own minds make up limits and boundaries and borders between cultures and people and communities.

About a year ago, I found my own sexuality. I found that magic understanding of who I am, and I wanted to shout it to the world. But I hid and I kept hiding, disguising as "I don't care" and "It doesn't matter". I kept lying to myself over and over until one day, I couldn't do it anymore. I came out to my mother and five minutes after, I regretted ever telling her.

Because coming out as asexual hurt. My parents readily accepted my sister being gay, but accepting that I am asexual seemed to be too hard.
It might be, as Boy put it, because my parents have seen the pain and suffering my sister has faced, struggling with her identity, her sexuality, and a society which, while publicly accepting and welcoming, sneers and boos at everyone who isn't like everyone else, and they don't want me to go through the same.
What my parents couldn't have known is that my experience is vastly different from my sister's.

The understanding for gay persons is growing every day. Being gay is not the same mythical beast it used to be, even as gay people are still persecuted all over the world. We hear about Gay Pride, Gay Bars, Gay Porn. We discuss same-sex marriages and same-sex rights. It's amazing, the way diversity can be celebrated.

Sadly, in this celebrating, we tend to forget other groups of individuals.

We don't discuss same-GENDER relationships. We don't discuss trans* relationships. Trans* rights are rarely in the news. Hate crimes against gay individuals are seen often. Hate crimes against trans* and queer individuals are rarely seen.

Discussing asexuality is like trying to discuss fur colors of unicorns.

Even within a community like the LGBTQIA community, which has faced discrimination and hate for so long, there is discrimination against others. There are so-called ally groups that refuse to acknowledge trans* people, bisexual, asexual, and queer people. Like being gay is the only "other" sexuality. Like there are only two genders among humans.

To these people, I say, learn to use a search engine. Learn to listen and see. If you can't open your mind the nice way, maybe bashing your head against a brick wall might prove productive.

This site is a great guide to LGBTQIA terminology.

And here's a great guide to how to be an ally to asexual people.


DFTBA