What if mom sees my blog?

One of the reasons I stopped writing blogs was that I was sick of having my mom reply multiple times to everything I posted, especially that which didn't concern her and especially with replies that themselves had nothing to do with the original post.
Well, I've spent some decent amount of time away from my mother and I suppose now I'm capable of handling all of her weirdness for a short time at least. I think that overwhelming feeling of happiness should help greatly, since I can't possibly tolerate my mother and everything that comes with her on my own.
anyway, the subtopic of greatest concern to me is the fact that neither she nor anyone else in most of my family knows I was raped--or attempted-raped--last march. Now, I published my blog entry about it in two places, including that which she frequents already fully aware of this. I just know she's going to read it and freak out and want to move me to another university again. She's going to assume the role of a concerned parent and she's going to accomplish nothing. She will use me as another excuse to not be able to work, she's going to use the events as an excuse to barge into my life once again.
I also knew full well that I will more likely than not see her on Christmas eve and will probably have a fit of unhappiness. Well, it doesn't matter. She'll probably insist on seeing me once she finds out. She'll probably do all kinds of things. She'll probably tell my dad. I don't care in the least. I do, but I just keep reminding myself that the things my parents do can't hurt me anymore. And what they know doesn't matter.
The truth is, it's about time information busted out in a controversial, confrontational manner. It's about time I confronted my family about a whole bunch of bs that has occurred.
I've actually been praying for a way to reconnect with my mom in a way that might get her saved, since it's a shame to lose family forever just because they hurt me so much so long ago. It would be nice if I could be friends with them. It would be nice if I didn't want to cry whenever I was reminded of my family. It would be nice if I didn't feel a condemning thought whenever I saw a dad giving his daughter away at her wedding. The condemning thought says, "You can never have that."
It would be really nice if my parents were saved. I think I'm reluctant to try to make it happen, because sometimes I feel don't want to be with them forever, that I want them to die and pass into nothing, because they ruined so much of my life when they ruled it. I think I need most to get past those feelings that are centered on me and my sense of having been wronged. I think a lot of people in the world need to do the same.and that;s all I have to say about that.

A Love Story

a surprising recollection employing general vagueness to protect the innocent, and some guilty.
So here is a story about me, some other people, and most importantly, someone who loves me very much. Watch out, though, it's not as it seems. There are actually several people who love me very much.
The first who deserves mentioning for doing so made the fact clear by writing a story including the following passage:
"It is often the case that in a family where one parent is a substance abuser, members of the family are forced to take on certain roles. The parents are the abuser and the enabler, but in order for them to not feel guilty about this, they label the children, and place all the responsibility on them. In this case, they decided that one was the good kid and one was the bad kid. The bad kid, however, was the one who rescued both children from that horrible situation."
That last sentence made me cry a lot because it reminded me of a lot of things. First, that though we suffered, we suffered together, and second, that though I was the one refered to as the "bad kid," I managed to prove instrumental in helping save someone who matters to me. I makes me realize that without me, someone I love might still be trapped in a situation without love.
This thought brings on happiness, but it's a strange kind of happiness. It's not giddy, it's not distracting. It's like being happy in a grave, consuming way. When I first read that story, I felt a flash of that heavy happiness. But then I forgot about it. I had a mood of heavy sadness that flowed in and around and weighed down the spark of happiness until I was bare sad again. Several things had happened that had bred this overpowering despair.
For two years I have felt like an immense failure. I have felt my life's potential drop away just because I chose not to hold onto it. I gave up on many things, especially happiness. I even lost faith without even realizing it.
I thought I still believed for a long time. I thought I was praying, fellowshipping, and growing closer to the Lord. But I was not. I genuinely thought I had witnessed to and helped save a friend, and I genuinely thought he was a friend.
But several months ago he used my friendship in a way noone should, but many do. That left me sad and afraid, and more without faith than ever. I got more and more depressed, irritiable, and hopeless, thinking I couldn't possibly stop. I've been reliving the trauma more and more, and no matter how much contact I've had with fellow Christians, by last wednesday, I was feeling ready to break of my relationship with the Lord.
But on that day, a real friend told his own story:
In order to illustrate the importance of descipleship (challenging believers and nonbelievers to grow closer to God) he related his struggle last year with temptation. Before, I had always thought of him as a near-ideal follower of Christ because of the way he now lives. But less than a year ago he was fighting to the death against the pull of sexual sin. I was shocked. He told how he'd asked our adult leaders to diciple him be keeping him accountable, and that he eventually had to break up with his girlfriend, and yet the lust had continued. He admitted that he had been about to fall away from faith. The thought that someone so seemingly good had almost been lost brought tears to my eyes as I sat in a crowd hearing his story. It became truly amazing as he said, "And then, someone decipled me in a way they don't even know..." He paused, not wanting to say it. As sappy as it sounds, I knew what was coming next. "My friend was raped." After that I started weeping. "That stopped it right there," he continued, adding that he was so sorry that that's what it took to end his sinning.
And I continued crying, but not so anyone could hear or see. I talked to him afterwards to explain that though I had been crying, I hadn't been sad at all. He replied that he hadn't looked at me the whole time because he, too, would have burst into tears. I said it was totally ok that he told the story, because it really helped.
And it did. I indeed hadn't cried from sadness at all. Instead I was swept away by that overwhelming, weighty happiness. It sank into everything and made me see clearly once again. I remembered love once again.
Not for him, though. I may love him a little bit. Ok, maybe a lot bit. He's my dear brother, but I seriously do NOT have a crush on him.
I recovered awareness of a monumentally more important love. The love of someone who cares more about the both of us more than we can possibly imagine. I came to fully appreciate God's love. Somehow His love can not only overcome death, sin, and suffering, but can reshape all of those mistakes and all of that pain to help us and others.
I was greatly traumatized by failure, rejection, and later sexual assault. Yet, coming to know that my mistakes were working into the Lord's greater plan for me and were used to recover one of His precious children who would have otherwise been lost changed everything. It makes it stop hurting. It makes everything stop hurting. Nothing matters anymore except that feeling. Since last wednesday I've prayed and prayed. I've prayed to thank Jesus for this feeling, I've prayed that I wouldn't lose it again, and I've prayed that I could share this feeling with others. It wanes a little, but I pray for it to come back and it does. At its strongest I feel than in these winter nights I can't be cold, that under every stresser I can't feel anxious, that with every frustration I can't get angry. Now, I still slip back toward the world and its feelings. I still sometimes momentarily forget this feeling and get angry or cold or sad, but I much prefer this happiness. I pray for it to stay.
I hope you feel this way all the time, too.

update on that thing that happens

It's better now, it really is. I need to sleep.
My roommate tried to set me up again. We went on a happenstance double date. She, her boyfriend, his roomate and I all went out. By default I was supposed to be the bf roommate's date, but I didn't want to. I don't think there's anything wrond with not being at all interested in someone. ok goodnight.

Things I hate about sleeping

When I first stir awake, that is like my last chance to get out of danger. It's my window of opportunity to escape. Otherwise, I am suddenly washed over by a wave of thoughts I'd rather not have. And it's not just those moments of awakening. It seems whenever i am home, they start creeping up, and all my neural activity floats in the same direction, slowly. All of my idle moments can suddenly be flooded with it.
I think about those guys, the good one and the bad one. I can concentrate on nothing productive. I visualize and imagine and plan, and even when i want to stop I don't. because the other impulses are stronger and I forget everything else.
The thoughts are there before I fall asleep, too. That's why I don't like my bed. I prefer to sleep on the couch. For a while I could sleep out there and not get those malproductive ideas, but now they've snuck over there, too. It'' somehow not as bad there, though. well, anyway, that was a rambling way of saying I think about sex too much, especially in my apartment, and I don't know what it is about the place that inspires it.

That thing is still happening

I think there is some kind of continuum across which I slide depending on various factors, mainly spiritual. And of course, on either end of this continuum is one of the two guy, my two guys. The ones past which I never moved. I think about them less regularly, but still, there are so many occassions on which they spring into my mind. It's usually a memory of one, something he did that added favorably to my opinion of him. Ugh. i've finally developed an idea of why I lean toward on or the other. It's a continuum of my spiriual state.
There's the "bad" one, the more superficially interesting one. He is, consequently, the one I want in moments of weak spirit. The times when flesh rises up with its mission of destruction and short-term gratification. I don't think his appeal is exclusively to lust, but a lot of it is. I do love him, though, or at least convince myself that I do.

Then there's the other one, who is perfect in every sense except for superficial appeal. I don't meant that he's not attractive, because he is. I mean he is not dangerous or tragic like the first guy, and thus doesn't inspire me to want to help him, because he doesn't need anything from me. I don't think I conciously love him as much as I do the other one. there are just a few rare moments when it surges up, those moments of remeniscing. Those moments occur when I recover strength of spirit and think of what I truly need and deserve rather than staying in a pit of sabotage.

of course, ideally, I shouldn't want either right now, and thus the continuum shouldn't end
but should continue on to the right
so that in the rare times when my spirit is especially strong, I know better than to look for fulfilment in some man, as if that would fill up all the voids.

I like my visual.

That thing that happens

Ok, so based on the information I recently learne, I was suddenly in a unique position.
By this I mean that for once I didn't like anybody. And this is a great thing, because for once my head was cleared up and I wasn't constantly thinking pointlessly but could actually concentrate on the currently relevant. That is very nice.
Unfortunately it's bound to be short lived. In fact, it was short lived. I soon went back to being bombarded by the wrong images all over again. It gets in the way so much. Those moments when I'm trying to decide whether to get up or keep pretending to sleep, and along come those visions. They really don't help.
To be slightly less vague, the problem with those fantasy moments is that they're not real. They take a normal person, a real person that I know, and turn him into something that is not real but is dominant in my mind. And I can't relate to such a person as he is, but only as he relates to the fabricated variation of him that is in my mind. And that is no way to be left dealing with good, decent people.
And the less I see of the real versions of such people, the more the fantasy counterparts grow and take over.

Surely there's a way to get away from such a state of mind. I know there was a moment today when I was screaming in mind for it to stop. I was thinking "Oh, God, don't ever let that happen." And it wouldn't be that hard to stop it, either. I just went right back to visualizing. I felt bad for doing it, but not enough to stop doing it.

Ideally I would stop, and i would be totally satisfied with my life, rather than longing for something I don't need as if it is the only thing I need.

Now, I would like to be really happy to be satisfied with being alone for now. It bothers me a little that my roomate keeps trying to set me up. It's really nice of her to do it, but it would be better if I were ready. Unfortunately, I should at least spend a little while being ok with being without anybody before I can be ok with being with anybody.
Otherwise, I would be simply using one person to forget about all previous persons and trying to fill up some emotional void. That's not fair to those persons. That's all I have to say about that.

An unanticipated dilemma

It has come to my attention that my roommate is much more knowledgeable than I had previously assumed:

1. Despite my many nonexistant efforts to conceal the existence of my blog, she found it. To imagine that listing it under "favorites" would make it fair game. This was combined with the nature of blogs to gradually become less and less confidential while the information confided becomes more and more personal.
2. on an unrelated note I feel incredibly sick right now.
3. She is very good at extracting information by force during long lunch breaks

And I was also enlightened to the fact that certain parties have met with her in discourse of certain important matters.

Anyway, tricky little one, she is. I think we've reached one of those monumental points at which a relationship drastically changes based on the divulging of heartfelt information and individual layers of emotional chitin must be scrapped.

Based on something she said today, she has the same type of problem I do. She said something like "the way i act is totally different from the way i am." Thus I think that like me, she has a bunch of shields up against the world that serve as a good blind against strangers. Unfortunately for whatever plans bread those wall, friends encroach and invade past such barriers and sometimes knock them out entirely.

And I think that whenever significant breaches occur, relationships are forced to change. Now I wonder what is going to happen.

Truly Guilty Dream

Not to spend every moment complaining about bad dreams, but this one was really meaningful. You know how when you're awake you can fake everything, but dreams come and show you what's really on your mind? Well in this dream, is was actually worse than the lesbian dream because that dream was completely out of the park. This recent dream, however, in the moments between sleep and full consciousness, seemed possible, and I felt really guilty that I might do such a thing for real.
In the dream I eloped with some guy I had just met and I was really exited because I actually got married. It was awesome, but then as I was about to prepare for the wedding night, I remembered my friend who's been out of town most of the summer. I thought "I should tell him. I should have told everyone. Shoot. Nobody knows." And I felt really bad even in the dream for just running off, and I felt really stupid and compulsive for taking on a total stranger. I thought "If I should be with anyone right now, it's my friend." So I asked to delay everything. I was already disappointed at how unadorned the whole thing was. So yeah, that was my nightmare.
I think the moral was, don't go desperately looking to strangers for fulfillment, when you probably alreadt know the one. Toward the end I was thinking "He comes back tomorrow. I have to stall until tomorrow." I didn't know what I planned to do. I was so regretful. That dream has been haunting me all day. At least I realized some really important things. Well, I'll see my friend tomorrow. I won't tell him about the dream just yet, though. I hope some day I can.

iNFJ

I found that for which I was looking, the keirsey sorter, at keirsey.com
unfortunately, in order to stay afloat it is a business, thus naturally needs to charge for the full range of its services. I just wanted to know my "type" which I was able to get without forking over my credit card number.
As the title indicates, I am an iNFJ or a couselor. I tried to test this, wondering if perhaps I had just fudged it the first time, but my second try produced exactly the same results as before. Creepy. I'm still an iNFJ. I was hoping to see if maybe personality type can change over time, but it doesn't. Not according to the survey and certain assumptions. I assume every time I take the questionaire, it recalculates the new data and doesn't just refer to old data.

Horribly disturbing dreams

For the past two days at least i have been plagued by some messed up lesbian dreams. That's most of what I have to say about that.
I think the worst thing about it was that in the context of the dream it was ok and I was a little bothered by what was going on, but only when I woke up was I truly disgusted.
I think that's all I should have to say there.
I have to go and find something now.

Fear and Bread

For some reason I am so intimidated by the presence of food. It is as though when it is there, it has to be eliminated as quickly as possible, so I won't eat it later.
It can't possibly have that much to do with starving, because I never had serious problems with starving, even when I was very young.
I remember whenever we did have food, it was gone quickly and we went a long time before it was replaced. I remember when my lunch consisted only of two fruits and I don't remember how I did for the other meals of the day. I don't think I ever snuck as much food as I do now. I did hide what I was eating, but never to the extent I have recently.
I definately never crept around at night to nab food from the kitchen, but back then I was at home. Since then I've been under the hospitality of others. Now I buy my own food, but I still eat mostly when noone is looking. I don't know what my problem is. It's like even thought there is blatant evidence, I don't want to be caught in the act and judged, because I just want to be able to commit the act itself.
I seriously wonder why I have such a bizarre eating disorder now. I've been through every eating disorder that exists. I've been anorexic, I couldn't stand bulemia, and then at other times I've been a compulsive eater. I think that's a good title for it. Compelled to do it, even though I don't really want to.
I tend to feel really self-defeated and thwarted because I stay good whenever there are people around, but when I am alone, I fall to the compulsions, even though I don't want to
It is also as though I'm being humbled. I so proudly think to myslef I won't eat any of the food in the kitchen, and then I eat it all without being able to stop. And I get angry when it is brought to my attention that I have eating everything. I take it as a vile accusation and an insult. I get reallly offended, I don't like how the act appears. It looks selfish, it looks undisciplined. It is, really. I look like a liar, too, given my voiced intentions.
Whatever. I am trying to remember the start of my most prominent self-destructive tendency. I remember when I was a little kid and I hadn't wanted to eat what had been served for dinner, which was something like a burrito. It had been thrown out. And then later that night I had gone through, genuinely hungry, and picked at it.
I remember another time, two houses later, when I had been eating something in the living room, and internally yelled at myself with disgust and judgement, pronouncing that I would be poor and in a trailer or something, but would always have my food. And there was a third incident, I don't remember which house, still with my parents, though, and I had been trying to hide the fact that I was eating the remaining block of cheddar.
Now, I have my normal level of thought and function in which I know better. I know a lot better. I know exactly what I want and what I must do to move in that direction. However, whenever something emotional happens, the other set of motivations takes over and the most important thing is sustenance, the more destructive the better, whether the damage is to health or reputation. I can see the thoughts coming. I don't know why I don't stop them. It is necessary, absolutely. I always feel guilty after they have passed.
I wonder where the second mindset came from. I'm trying to remember where it started. I know the ideal way to get rid of it, as well. I could get rid of it at any moment. In fact, I know the method works.
I think the second mindset, that is what I call it, did something to comfort me, long ago, when i was alone and afraid and didn't even think about God. I think, though, that the more I depend on Him, the less rampant is the second. I remember the summer I read the whole bible. I was so constantly flooded with the Word, that I had no need for my protective animal thoughts so I didn't eat like a monster and I lost close to twenty pounds. That was a really good summer. I miss that feeling of ease. It's so nice to have the Spirit. It is the best feeling there is. I've lost so much confidence recently. yeah. I don't know what else to say. I've lost a lot of things.

Things that Annoy and Anger me

I am probably most annoyed by my blood relatives, specifically my parents.
I am also annoyed by matters involving money, this is closely related to my wrath against my parents.
I am annoyed that my place of education is not actually a school but a business selling degrees.
Thus I am annoyed with the actual cost of school combined with all of the paperwork and deadlines that have been falling on me lately.
The annoyance is augmented by the necessity to involve my parents. It is upgraded to genuine anger by the fact that I must cite their income and cannot consider myself an independent student simply because they are alive and I am currently under 24. There are some other requirements I don't remember, as well, all rendering me a technical dependent.
This is insulting to me because I shouldn't be considered a dependent, I shouldn't have to call up both my estranged begettors-turned-abandonors every year to beg for their compliance and I shouldn't have to wait for my dad to mail me a copy of his tax forms. I shouldn't have to fill out any dependence verification forms nor any notice of non-tax-filer status for my mom without her even being aware of my need to do so. I shouldn't have to forge any signatures just to apply for financial aid, which will be reduced even further by how much my dad makes, in spite of the fact that he hasn't provided for me at all since I was sixteen.
There was a particularly injurious moment at the financial aid office when I was asking some questions to get around having to account for my father's salary. I was asked, "which parent provided at least half of something-something--?" and I snapped "Neither!"
So I wonder, is there anything I can do to register the fact that I've been supporting myself, and before that I was surviving by the charity of friends and extended family, none of whom had any obligation to do so nor should they be expected to finance me any more than they already have.
There, that's what's bothering me. There should be some means of registering as a dependant-of-deadbeats or abandoned dependant. Otherwise, my family is expected to contribute several thousand, not including loans, and it is clear to all involved besided the U that my immediate family will not be contributing a cent.
The last time I got this concerned about university policy was right after I was almost raped and I was furious that the residence halls are entirely co-ed. There needs to be gender segregation. If I could have absolute power in that regard, there would be no males allowed anywhere near my room unsupervised, and I would not be allowed in any male's room without a chaperone, because that's how it happened. But that happened several months ago.

Fake People

I used to have a serious problem. Now it's not so bad, but it still comes up from time to time. For the longest time I didn't catagorize myself with the rest of humanity. It's not that I didn't think I was human, not consciously anyway. It was more a matter of seeing myself as entirely different from all others, in a bad way, on a much lower level.
I even tried to explain it to my best friend. I told her about how I never felt like a real person. That's how I worded it, and I explained why I didn't see myself as important at all.
Anyway, enough about that. That personal issue is only important in how I've found a way to relate it to a much a larger social situation.
I live in a profoundly crappy area. It's all full of homeless people and not at all affluent. The really frustrating aspect of living here is that despite the diversity and the up front need to face people who are different from me, I am no more tolerant of others. In fact, I've found racist, sexist, agist, classist, and any other biased tendencies are magnified. This I associate with the fact that I see every stereotype I know rendered in human form and I deal with them every day, acting just as expected.
I think that this is because of stereotypical expectation itself rather than a means of proving the accuracy of those stereotypes.
By example, I have such expectations as predicting all men to be thoughtless, self centered, and unattentive. I see them constantly proving that they are. I think they do it largely because many like me expect it, so they know no other behavior. The sdame goes for expecting certain groups of women, whether old and old-fashioned or young and spoiled, to be picky and haughty.
The worst, though, is the racially based expectation. I think it's a huge social problem that permeates a lot of the country.
I think white Americans hold the paradigm that they are the normal ones and the real people, and thus all others around them are variations on their base. This means noone of any other race is truly a real person, but more a parody of a person, and has to have a parody identity.
I think that this belief puts pressure on an average black man, telling him he's not a normal man because he's not a white man, so he can't be a straight character. He has to be some wierd comical character, so his identity becomes like a joke. In some way he must be some kind of clown.
I see examples in the young male students I know. They are perfectly capable of behaving quietly and sensibly, but instead they are loud, obnoxious, and oversexed, as though that defines who they are, because they absolutley have to be that way. And it relieves conceited people like me from having to take them seriously, because they appear to constantly act idiotic.
It's not only annoying to me, but it's wrong. I don't see why every black man must be funny to me, so be smushed to the side of "normal" onto some abnormal and not quite real personality.
That's not really a complete thought, it's just an impulse, and I sure hope it doesn't look racist, because it's not.

'Cruiter nightmare

This is almost undoubtedly the result of sleeping for only three hours last night and being highly concerned about today's tasks.
I had also, right before retiring late last night, had a long conversation with my sister in which I alluded to a couple of traumatic childhood memories. Oh, and my bed is way too hot to sleep in. I ended up on the couch, and finally dreamed there.

so anyway the dream consisted entirely of previewing today's events. I attended to my pathetic occupation, little happening. I retrieved my check from the place of my laughable profession. Some things arose, but they were so reminiscent of reality there was little worth noting.
The truly disturbing thing, however, was the appearance of my recruiter in my dream. It was by far the freakiest thing that happened. I was supposed to go into the office today for height at weight check, but that ended up not happening. That it most fortunate for all those involved, because I don't think I could handle looking him in the eye after what happened in the dream.
He had to have been a combination of other things in the dream because the avatar was nothing like the actual person with whom it was identified. It was really weird. he kept changins his clothes, to I kept freakinf out like "Eek! Nude 'Cruiter. There are no words for how much that bothers me."
ok, that's out. I feel better.

Intro

Welcome to my blog. This is totally awesome. I have another blog but I branched over to this one to avaid a certain person who kept replying to all of my posts, unwanted. Compared to my other space, this leaves a few things to be desired, but it is very nice all the same, and here I can say some things I wouldn't risk because of the certainty of that certain person reading them and commenting.
I can't think of anything important just now, except maybe that I can't stand my mother, and she's the one who obsessively monitors my posts because she has no life.