Acceptance

It’s Pride in Newcastle, today: “a community LGBT festival for the northeast UK”

Why do I care? Well, I care for several reasons, some of them personal, but mostly because I think it’s really important for people to be able to say ‘this is who I am.’ Whatever your colour, whatever your religious beliefs, whatever your sexual orientation: you have the right to be accepted and treated equally. Yes, even if you choose to wear a fur-suit and Yiffy it up.. I may smile, but I won’t treat you any differently.

I know many people have issues on sexuality on religious grounds, that’s fine, but I do not think anyone has the right to cast judgement on the relationships consenting adults have with each other. If you truly believe God (whatever you perceive him/her to be) has a problem with it, I’m sure God can handle it in his/her own way. Pray for our souls, if you like, but keep your criticism to yourselves. This goes for a lot of things, actually: the most important thing in any belief system should be to honour the person.. ‘love thy neighbour’.. any hate-filled attacks in the name of missionary work smack of simple prejudice. I’m wary of people who use their faith to justify their own beliefs, it’s pretty easy to do, what’s more impressive are people that use their faith to reach out and understand things they may not be wired to understand. It’s a beautiful thing.

Acceptance is a beautiful thing. I should know, I’ve had to ask loved ones to accept a great many things about me lately, things known only to a handful of people. I try not to adopt labels because I feel I have no right to, yet. I’m cautious of appearing ‘trendy’ by pinning my colours to the mast of something yet untried. But, in my mind, I have labels pinned neatly to my breast.. and, finally, I admitted this to a family member, and the relief at expressing them out loud to someone I never thought I’d tell was amazing. As was being accepted, unconditionally. It’s the biggest gift we can give to another person. And to become the person we truly want to be, we need to accept ourselves.

I’m bi. (Not just bi-polar, though I suspect that too, but that’s a post for another day!) I’ve known for.. ooh, 11 years, but I’ve also been married that whole time, so there was no intent to act on it. So I’ve avoided the label because I can’t ‘prove’ it. As many of you know, my marriage has ended.. I’ve been separated for nearly a year now, and it’s been nearly two since it was clear it was heading this way. My husband knew I’ve been attracted to women, it wasn’t an issue. He might be surprised by my declaration, but then a lot of people are surprised by my moments of ridiculous honesty.

So, now you know.. those who choose to read this.. am I a different person to you now, I wonder?

Hope

I'm tired, itchy and irritable.. but I'm still here. I want to talk about hope today - the things that get me through the days and quieten the inner voice that tells me just to give up.

I don't want to bring religion into this, particularly, as it's a difficult topic for me to address and not one I have the strength for right now. I'm just going to say, simply, that the universe provides - or at least it seems to - if you are willing to listen. I remember railing out at the world not long after Christmas (my first ever one alone).. 'give me something to live for!' Not long afterwards I received an email via a website I had forgotten I'd joined to come try out for a band. The band I'm singing with today. I've always loved to sing, but had very little confidence in my voice. Still, I harboured a desire to give myself a chance to have some part in an actual band. I don't have a very strong voice - I can't do power ballads or party songs, the things desired by a lot of commercial bands. And I didn't feel I had enough of a distinctive voice to be in an original band - hell, I don't play an instrument well or write my own music. Still, I signed up to a website that connects local musicians, I even approached a couple of people, with no luck, and then I forgot about it. Until the email arrived.

So, now I'm with a small group of guys who want me as their lead singer, who actively encourage me to write lyrics (and, to my amazement, I have been) and who don't make me feel like I need to be glamorous or petite to be a lead singer (good job, cos I'm really not). I'm doing something I've always wanted to do and never thought I would. We're not perfect, by any means; we've yet to gig (we're aiming for our first next month) and there have been too many days when my moods have wanted me to give it all up. But, somehow, I've stuck it out because I figure if the universe will answer my plea the least I can do is work with what it provides.

And, this isn't a one off, albeit the most dramatic and easiest to describe. I rail at the world, demanding, pleading, hoping for something to get me through the next week, day or hour like a child in a tantrum. I can't think of a time when I haven't been answered, somehow. It doesn't have to be a big deal - just enough, just a hint that life is worth living and fighting for. A few words - like last week when my sister told me she was proud of me. This meant more to me that I can possibly describe. I can't remember the last time someone told me they were proud of me, and certainly not for fighting a condition that the majority of people can't even understand and the situation she is in herself makes it the more poignant. I felt lifted up.

I forgot all this, as I always do in the darkness, when I wrote my post yesterday. I screamed out into the void because I needed someone to listen to me and I didn't think anyone was left that would. I should know better: into my inbox dropped an email from a complete stranger. Someone was there, someone was listening - a simple gesture of kindness that got me through the rest of the day. I'll always be grateful.

This is what it's all about, what I've wanted to blog about for so long and haven't been able to: there is so much to live for, so many people willing to reach out to one another. But you have to be willing to accept it when it comes - to work with the universe, embrace the little things, recognise the hope they offer and let them have a positive impact on your life. And then, take your own opportunities to give the same back - it's important. It's easy to think when you have depression that you have nothing to offer anyone, but that really isn't true. I think we tend to focus on the big gestures that we don't have the resources to make but it really doesn't take that much to help someone else: a smile, a greeting.. an email out of the blue. Just because you can't always see the impact it has on someone's life doesn't mean it hasn't had one.

I'm going to edit this later, and add to it as my first proper post on the new blog. Until then, I just want to utter another thank you to a random stranger and to the universe.

So, I wasn't going to post here again. But I don't want to write this on my new blog - I can't - I added family there and I really don't want to worry my family. The website is special to me, too: it's the better me, the 'whole' me.. well, the flashes of her that I sometimes get. That's probably why I've slowed down with it now it's come to writing content. I want to write happy, insightful things. But it's hard to write happy insightful things when all you can think is aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggh. Still, screaming's good for you, right?

I literally don't know what to do. I'm working so hard at being 'well' but I'm not even sure I know what well is. There's a bit of a family crisis going on, at the moment, I'm not going to go into details but it's not good. And it is more important than my depression. So, I tell the people involved that I'm fine and not to worry (although they still do). And I AM fine, comparatively. But, God, if I don't type these thoughts out I'm going to explode. It was dad's birthday yesterday, or would have been if he hadn't died nearly three years ago. I wasn't good the night before and was too close to self-harming. I was prodding at myself with scissors. See, my left wrist had been throbbing all day, it has been for a while, nagging to be cut. I had that before I started burning: the compulsion. I didn't do very well at fighting that, I'm doing better at fighting this thanks to the meds. But even as I'm typing this there's a constant dull ache to do it. But I didn't then, and I won't now, I painted - the thing I'm the worst at in the whole world. It was therapeutic and dire and distracting enough to calm me so I could sleep. Yesterday, the day itself, was actually better. I made myself go out, armed with a camera and the walking, sun and hours editing later left me in a better place.

So what the fuck is wrong with me today? Death is heavily on my mind: dad died a month to the day after his birthday and the aforementioned family crisis could be resulting in another one soon. I need to be strong, but I don't want to be strong. I saw the docs a week ago, mentioned I'd been suicidal - she asked me if I'd act on it. I won't. It would destroy people I care about. I said I didn't feel like I was staying alive for myself. I'm not sure how true that is, actually: I enjoy the good days, I take pleasure in the small things I do to occupy myself. It just isn't enough. I don't want to live with this constant feeling of emptiness, hoping and wishing things will change. I don't want to feel like a constant whining burden when I know so many people suffer more than I can even imagine. I'm tired of feeling half coshed and half agitated all the time, I'm tired of not having anyone to talk to about it. I'm sick of listening to myself moan.

I just don't know what the point is, at all.