On Learning to be Lonely

They say every woman's dream is to find her true love. 

I don't know how true (or false) that might be, but for me, it was definitely true.

My greatest desire was always to marry and raise children.

In part because I believed that it was the best way to serve God - as a Stay At Home Mom - but mainly because I love children, and I am an incurable romantic.

My dream prince was tall and handsome with blue eyes and either blonde or black hair - it didn't really matter so long as it was wavy - and well let's just say someone watched too much Disney growing up!

I grew up eating, drinking, and breathing romance, princes, princesses, dragons, knights, damsels in distress, and the ubiquitous "true love".

I don't remember quite how old I was when I realized it was all untrue.

After all, what Disney princess do you know of - who finds her prince and a happily ever after - that isn't white? And has gorgeous blonde hair? Or short black hair? Or curly red hair?... You see my point? It doesn't happen. Tiana is an exception, and no one really considers her part of the core Disney trio anyways.

I also figured out that it doesn't really matter what a girl's character is like, so long as her skin is fair. She could be a complete airheard, or she could be an absolute snob, but so long as she is white and pretty, it doesn't really matter. Plus, I've never been good at the whole 'meek and quiet' thing.

But through a series of events far too involved and lengthy to go into in detail here, I have learned that pure, upstanding, clean cut men do not fall in love with girls like me. Good homeschool boys marry other good homeschool girls.

They do not marry volatile, wounded, damaged, self destructive, scarred, short, curvy brown girls with a history of pain and heartbreak. They do not fall in love with girls who are not pure, or who have done things which even the most liberal Christian would gasp in horror if they knew. They most certainly do not love girls who look a fright first thing in the morning, and need three pounds of makeup in order to look even semi attractive. They do not marry girls whose skin color instantly brands them "sexy" and "exotic". They just do not.

They marry tall pretty blondes. Or short vivacious redheads. Or brunettes. But not dark girls. Never dark girls.

I guess in a way, this realization is a relief.

I am too damaged to be loved, too complicated to be understood, too intense not to frighten away anyone who dares venture underneath the happy fairy mask which I display to the rest of the world.

My past, in addition to the fact that I am not white, forms a rather compelling case against falling in love with me. Especially if you are a good Christian homeschooled boy - you know, the kind that my dad wouldn't immediately run off the premises with a shotgun. ;)

I want children but I shall never have them, because I would not willingly inflict my depression upon an innocent child.

I want love but I shall never have nor accept it, because I could not expect a man to put up with my volatility, hurt, scars, and past. Neither could I truly believe that the love of a man can be true.

Therefore, I am learning, slowly but surely, how to resign myself to a future in which it will be just me, and perhaps a few friends. No marriage, no children, no husband. No one to kiss me awake, or make lunches for, or sing to sleep.

And it is a rather terrifying prospect, looking down the years, and knowing that what you wish for more than anything will never come to pass, but perhaps it is better this way. For all concerned.

I am learning to be alone.

I am learning to be lonely.

A Letter to the Director of Insurgent ;)

Dear Director of Insurgent,

You just had to take out all my favorite parts in the book and replace them with trite, mostly meaningless babble, didn't you?

I mean, Uriah doesn't talk to Tris on the rooftop, and Tris can initially fight off the truth serum and she chooses to confess that she killed Will.

You swapped Tris and Tobias' roles, too, because in the book Tris doesn't trust Evelyn, and Tobias does.

Peter is a sadistic psychopath who only saves Tris' life because he can't stand the thought of being indebted to a "Stiff".

And Caleb betrays his sister with no remorse at all, at least, not until well into the third book!

Plus, it's "thank you for your honesty", NOT "thank you for your candor". And yes, there is a difference. Plus, they whisper it.

You left out the part where Tobias beats Marcus with his belt, and the exchange between him and Tris where he throws down the gauntlet and tells her that he cannot love a Tris who insists upon destroying herself.

Whatever happened to the scene where Tris climbs to the top of the building and almost throws herself from it, because she can't handle the pain anymore?

Or the fact that she promises Tobias she won't sacrifice herself, and then does anyway?

I also don't understand why Tris and Tobias had to have implied sex! In the book, the whole point was that she wouldn't be with him that way if she was just using him to make her feel better, and that was beautiful and noble. You lost that in the movie.

And what on earth was that cube? That was nowhere in the book! The whole simulations thing was completely screwed up and inaccurate.

I mean, don't get me wrong.. I did love the movie, and the special effects were splendid! And I adored Tris because I could absolutely relate to her, what with the nightmares, and hurting the ones she cared the most about, and pretending to be brave when you're anything but!

By the same token, however, I sorely missed my favorite lines from the book, and how Tobias refuses to coddle her and insists that she is strong enough to live, and the way he tells her not to apologize when she says sorry for everything, and I guess I was just looking forward to something slightly more accurate to the book.

Therefore, I was disappointed, in comparison, because of the absolute failure to adhere to even the basic plot line of the book!

I do think it matters, and I adore the book so much that it saddened me how much was cut out.

You didn't completely screw everything up, but I will just have to think twice before reading a book just prior to watching the movie.

My mistake....but you made plenty too. ;)

On Being Happy

I had a conversation yesterday with a friend I haven't seen in quite some time, and the topic of suicide came up. She mentioned a mutual friend of  ours who had completed suicide a few years ago, and as we both reminisced on his death, she commented that she would never have guessed he was suicidal since "He was always so happy!"

I must admit, I saw red for a moment there.

For the one hundred millionth time, if someone is depressed or suicidal or self harms or has an eating disorder, then they are the most accomplished actors and actresses that you will probably ever meet. They have been taught - oh so painfully - to keep their walls up and not let anyone in, because not only does no one understand, but after a while, people get tired of hearing of your problems and just dismiss them out of hand. Therefore their smiles are the most convincing, and their laughs are the most genuine, because it is a constant mask that they are forced to maintain for all who see.

But comments like that make my blood boil because we are so quick to believe the smile - so willing to believe the laugh - that we fail to look past that and truly understand what others are going through. There is a difference between sad and depressed. Sad is visible. Depression isn't always. In fact, it usually isn't.

And once more, I wish to God that people would stop believing the fake smile, and actually take the time to look into the eyes of those who are hurting and care enough to listen and understand without judging without being put off by the "I'm fine".

I can't tell you how many times I've told people 'I'm fine', and they just willingly accepted it as perfectly legitimate. And these were people who knew about my struggles, knew about my issues, and still believed me when I said I was fine.

*Here's a hint: fine is never fine, especially if a girl tells you she's fine*

Seriously, though, please I beg of you, do not assume that fine means fine. And do not assume that simply because someone smiles, they aren't depressed or suicidal or self harm or have an eating disorder! Smiles can be so deceiving. The mirror can lie. And the happy facade is usually just that - a facade.

So, quite frankly, always seeming happy in public, or when you're with other people, doesn't mean a damn thing.

It's how you are behind closed doors when you don't have to put on the mask for anyone, that truly matters. When you break down, and don't wish to live anymore.

And unless you have seen that side of a person, please don't assume that they're happy.

Just don't.

Spiritual Depression?

The first time they tried to exorcise me, I was ten.

I'd been depressed for as long as I could honestly remember, but circumstances had worsened the depression to the point where, if I got out of bed before noon, it was a remarkable occurrence. I had lost all motivation, slept all the time, was intensely suicidal, and had tried to run away quite a few times already. 

My great aunt, Jeji, was living with us at the time. She was straight from India, and considered herself somewhat of a prayer healer. Her mentor was the self-styled 'Prophetess of Nandayal', a woman sought out by her community, for prayer, healing, and blessings. They both firmly believed that all illness, mental or otherwise, was purely Satanic attack, and needed only the prayer of faith and the binding of Satan in order to be dismissed. Therefore, upon being confronted with my obvious depression, my great aunt determined that I was possessed and in need of serious spiritual help. 

So, I was repeatedly roused at night by her marking the sign of the cross over me, sprinkling (and soaking) me with holy water, and commanding the demons to depart in the name of Jesus. 

Granted, hiding under my blankets, crying and screaming at her to get out of my room because "I hate you!", probably didn't do much to dispel the notion that I was possessed.

This continued for six terrible months, until she returned to India, leaving behind bottles of prayer water and further instructions for my exorcism. I hated her, and she, I believed, hated me. 

My mother was convinced that Jeji could do no wrong, therefore, she and my grandmother took to praying against the perceived demonic influence which I was under, almost nightly. 

I remember waking up countless times to hear my grandmother praying against the evil spirit she believed inhabited my body. She dragged me in front of the TV every single time a faith healer claimed to miraculously heal an audience member, reminding me in a trembling voice that if I simply cried out to Jesus and if hands were laid on me in prayer, I would be cured. Or, at the very least, unpossessed. 

I tried. 

I tried so hard. I did everything I thought they wanted.  

I was baptised. I tried to pray constantly, and rededicated my life to Christ at every opportunity. My reading materials consisted of my Bible, The Journals of Jim Elliot, and every single book on being a godly woman that I could lay hands on. I beat myself up over the smallest sin, and tried to adhere to a set of legalistic rules in order to earn Gods love and freedom from what I was told was demonic posession. I covered my head in church. I tried to convince my dad not to send me to college. I wrote stifled journal entries to and about God. I even went through a phase of wearing skirts only. 

I tried to do everything right, and please God, thinking that if I just grew closer to God, I wouldn't be possessed, right? 

Wrong. 

Instead, my depression worsened with every attempt to hide or dismiss it. By the time I was sixteen, I had become an expert at hiding it, and pretending to be normal. My parents thought their prayers had worked and I was no longer under demonic influence since I had learned to mask the visible signs of my depression in order to avoid being labelled "possessed". 

I remember the first time I learned what depression was, and that it was the result of a chemical imbalance in my brain, and had nothing to do with possession by demons. 

My first reaction, I'm ashamed to admit, was disbelief. I dismissed it under the thought that secular science couldn't be relied upon to tell the truth. 

The conversations I had with my parents during that year didn't do much to reassure me. The few times I had tried broaching the subject, I was met with a united front telling me that depression was a spiritual sin, failure to stay in communion with God, and could be cured by constant prayer, Bible reading, and positive affirmation. 

It didn't help. 

Their reactions, when they learned I had been self harming, confirmed my worst fears. Besides just not understanding, they repeatedly asked what occult forces I had been dabbling in that had made me think that slicing my own skin was even remotely okay. Their first thought was that I had turned into a Satan-worshipping, blood-drinking, demon-possessed, emo cult member. 

Because. Normal people - unpossessed people - don't cut their skin. Right? It must be some demonic force driving that action. Such as in the story of the possessed man in Mark who would cut his skin with sharp stones while living out among the tombstones. 

There's even names for these demonic forces. I've heard so-called healers pray against the spirit of depression or the spirit of suicide or the spirit of anxiety. 

So, when I landed myself in the hospital due to a failed suicide, my greatest terror was how my parents would react. 

And although they blew my minds with their willingness to accept the real physical ailment I was suffering from, the lingering mentality remains. 

Like my fathers insistence that the medicine they prescribed wasn't what changed things. What changed, he believes, was that I started reading my Bible, and began to want to live. And how do I explain to him that even now sometimes I do not wish the pain of life yet I refuse to allow myself to be sucked again into the darkness. 

Like my best friend telling me that all mental illness is spiritual, and accusing me of wanting to believe in chemical imbalance so that I don't have to take responsibility for my depression. And part of me fears that she is right - that I don't want to believe that somewhere along the years, somehow, I opened the door to the occult. 

Like her older sister's attempts at helping, which basically entailed grilling me as to whether or not I had ever checked my horoscope, touched a oujia board, dabbled in witchcraft, or attempted spells. And then sending me verses on 'returning to the Lord' and cleansing yourself of anything with possible negative spiritual implications in order to be healed. 

Like being sent a sermon on Nebuchadnezzar and the direct link between sin and mental illness which claimed that chemical imbalance is an unproven, unscientific opinion, and therefore illegitimate. And how I sat in my room crying, desiring nothing more than to hide away from the cruelty of the world and yet at the same time feeling unbearably selfish for my anger towards the person who sent it to me. 

Like women's group last night, where moms friend brought a lady who claimed that the spirit of The Lord resided in her bedroom, and that if she prayed for someone for only five minutes, whatever ailed them, be it depression or suicidal thoughts, or cancer, it would be cured. Because, "everything can be cured with five minutes prayer". Any failure to be cured is a lack of faith. And words failed me to explain to them that God is not boxed in by a formula of five minutes prayer and sometimes he doesn't work that way and that's alright too. 

Like crying to my father that night, asking if my depression was just a lack of faith, and he responded by attempting to find a starting point for the depression, an event which triggered it, and insisted that if I kept reading my Bible and remaining close to The Lord, there was no guarantee I would be on medication long. And I was choked with the terrifying though of what if I spend the rest of my life on medication? Will he assume I have failed to adequately draw close to God?

I don't know. 

I just don't know. 

I want so desperately to believe that I am not possessed, and my depression is simply a result of living in a fallen world, much the same way diabetes or cancer would be, that it frightens me. 

And I can't help wondering if, perhaps the very fact that I want it so badly to be true, means it is false. 

I just don't know. 

I don't know and it scares me. 

The Courtship Culture Commandments

1. Thou shalt prize thy emotional, spiritual, and physical virginity above all else, as it is a special gift to be given to thy spouse on thy wedding night. 

2. Thou shalt never be alone with thy intended, for, as Jeremiah remindeth us, "The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked." Therefore, thou shalt not be without the supervision of a chaperon. After all, everyone shall act the same when alone with thee, as they did in front of thy family. 

3. Thou shalt not hold hands, kiss, or hug (other than a brief side hug) for that may spark desire, and lead thou and thine into unforgivable sin. 

4. Thou shalt not have crushes, nor enter into a relationship with one whom thou will not marry, for if thou dost so, thy heart shall be irrevocably compromised, and shall not be able to adequately love thy future spouse.

5. Thou shalt adore, revere, and worship thy father and mother, since they are the direct voice of God in thy life 

6. Thou shalt utterly spurn any male who doth not first approach thy father to discuss his interest in thee. 

7. Thou shalt always treat thine intended as thy brother or sister in Christ in all purity, forgetting not that any desire for physical relations with thy betrothed is sin. 

8. Thy body belongs to thy future spouse, therefore, thou shalt not defraud him/her, through any means. 

9. Thou shalt loudly proclaim that God is capable of restoring the damage done to thy emotions/heart/body, done when thou didst not know any better, yet vehemently declare any person who doth not live up to thy laws to be damaged goods. 

10. Thou shalt always remember that Emotional Purity + Biblical Courtship = Godly Marriage. 

11. Thou shalt carefully screen thy son/daughter's future prospects, and pressure them into the match which thou determinest to be the fittest for them. 

12. Thou shalt look down upon those who, through worldly influences and corruption, allow their children to date. 

13. Courtship is to dating what homeschooling is to public schooling - the obvious Godly choice for thy house, and to be followed if thou desirest to say 'As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord'. 

14. Thou shalt attend purity balls, wear purity rings, and claim thy father or thy Lord as thy spouse in the interim. 

15. Thou shalt feverishly work on thy hope chest, learn traditional tasks done by thy gender, in preparation for the traditional western gender roles which thou shalt assume after thy nuptials. 

16. Thou shalt not become close friends with an individual of the opposite gender, for doth thou not know that it is emotional adultery? 

17. Family knoweth best. Always. Thou shalt have no private communication without their knowledge and screening. Thy brothers art thy guardians. 

18. When asked by strangers whether or not thou dateth, thou shalt always reply that thou escheweth such a worldly form of relationships, and passionately proclaim the wonders of courtship. 

19. Thou shalt save thy first kiss for the altar on thy wedding day.

20. Thou shalt be committed to a virtual stranger, during thy courtship. 

21. Thou shalt hold thy intended to the high standard of Fitzwilliam Darcy, and loudly bemoan the lack of "real men" in thy generation. 

22. Thou shalt marry the first person thou courteth, for otherwise thou shalt have given away an irreplaceable piece of thy heart. 

23. Thy heart hath only so much love to give. Squander it not. 

24. The man is the initiator. Thou shalt not, if female, express interest in one who has not already expressed interest in thee. 

25. Thou shalt always, above all, GUARD THY HEART/ 

Harvey and Jesus

"And those seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music"

                        - Japanese Proverb

I don't know if any of you have seen or heard of the play Harvey, but I saw it for the first time recently, and was instantly struck by a bizarre comparison. 

Harvey reminds me, in a lot of ways, of our relationship with Jesus. 

Now for those of you who haven't seen either the play or the movie, let me explain. 

The story line revolves around a middle aged man, Elwood P. Dowd, whose best friend is an invisible 6'3" white rabbit known simply as Harvey. Elwood and Harvey are inseparable. They do everything together: go to concerts, play poker, frequent bars, and Elwood insists on introducing Harvey to everyone he meets. Needless to say, this penchant of his is met with suspicion, alarm, and outright hostility on the part of those around him. The entire town is convinced that he has gone insane. In fact, his own sister tries to get him admitted to a psych ward! 

Quite frankly, there are probably some who will read this and think the psych ward is where I should be for even attempting to make this comparison. But bear with me. 

See, there's a beautiful passage, where Elwood is depicting an evening spent with Harvey, and this is how he describes it:  

"Harvey and I sit in the bars...have a drink or two...play the juke box. And soon the faces of all the other people they turn toward mine and they smile. And they're saying, "We don't know your name, mister, but you're a very nice fella". Harvey and I warm ourselves in all these golden moments. We've entered as strangers - soon we have friends, And they come over. They sit with us. They drink with us. They talk to us. They tell us about the big terrible things they've dine and the big wonderful things they'll do. Their hopes, and their regrets, and their loves, and their hates. All very large, because nobody ever brings anything small into a bar. And then I introduce them to Harvey. And he is bigger and grander than anything they offer me, and when they leave, they leave impressed. The same people seldom come back; but that's envy, my dear. There's a little bit of envy in the best of us". 

And it struck me: This is how our relationship with Jesus should be. 

It should be the kind where, when people gravitate towards us to pour out their life stories, we simply introduce them to Jesus. 

Since He truly is "bigger and grander" than all else, and has the ultimate answers to life's questions, who better to lead people to? 

But, as with Elwood and Harvey, not everyone is willing to acknowledge the existence of what is unseen, and more often than not, they will leave, never to return. However, there are a few, few and far between, who will not only stay, but return for more.

As for those who leave, Elwood says it best. "That's envy, my dear."

Because nothing can come close to Christ's splendor, and to simply rest in Him without worry for the future, is enviable, and something that most people can't achieve on their own. 

So, I vote that we learn a thing or two from Mr. Dowd, and, simply keep introducing people to Jesus. Whether or not they care, whether or not they think we're crazy, whether or not they never come back again. 

There can be no greater task. 

Whether We Are White or Copper Skinned?

I never realized what an anomaly my family was at homeschool conventions or homeschool co-ops until recently we ran into another Indian family at one. The first I have ever met. And they were only looking INTO homeschooling. They weren't even homeschooling yet! 

See, my family is not your typical homeschooling family. We're brown. But more than that, we're Indian. Like, from India. 

And we are still the only Indian homeschool family to date that I know. 

For years I've felt like an outsider at homeschool conventions because I would look around and every single other person was white, with either brown or red hair neatly tucked into a bun, a traditional jean jumper or skirt, and a nicely demure aura, and there I was with my brown skin, long straight black hair hanging loose, jeans, and gauzy shirt. You can imagine the looks I got. 

And here's where it gets personal. 

Race is a very big thing in the homeschool community, I've discovered. Douglas Wilson has been skyrocketed into the spotlight for his classic white supremacist views, and his book excusing slavery in the American South, but before I even read his book I started having problems with a class I was taking at the time: Gileskirk Christendom, based on the beliefs of a certain Dr. George Grant. He portrayed Western Civilization, and, most notably white people, as the "greatest flowering of Christianity", and descrys the rest of the world as pagan, primitive, and ungodly. 

It's as if Christianity equals White. 

When I was 12 and 13 I had a mad crush on a young man who was a personal friend of our family. I thought he was fantastic. I adored him pretty much. But he was a good 7-8 years older than me and never realized my hopeless obsession. Before long I realized that there was no way he would ever fall for me, and I remember my mom telling me that it was hopeless because his mom would decide who he courted, and the girl he married would have to be white. (His mom was just that kind who read all the "white supremacy couched as christian" homeschool literature, and raised her kids on Westerns where white = good and dark = bad).  

After all, good upstanding white Christian homeschooled guys want a "clean" girl. They want someone with white skin and brown hair, who's tall and fair and a poster child for homeschooling. They don't look for shorty curvy brown girls who have way too much passion and poetry in their veins. 

And believe me, I'd read all the books. On how you had to be meek and quiet and not rebel or listen to secular music; and all the books made a white southern lifestyle seem equatable with Christianity. You know, where you didn't go to college, and waited for the perfect Prince Charming. What particularly impacted my view, though, was that the books said that being seductive or sexy was "the sin of Bathsheba" therefore it was considered taboo. 

Now, one considers white skin inherently "seductive" or "exotic", yet those are exactly the stereotypes which come with having copper colored skin. I was convinced that had I only been white, he may have cared for me and it broke my heart and plunged me into extreme self hatred. 

I can remember writing a teary-eyed journal entry begging God to make me white because if I was white, then he would love me. Well, he turned out courting a girl who is just that: white. tall. fair. with brown - blonde hair and who's pretty much perfect. 

And while we all have ideas of what our first heartbreak will be, little did I think that it was my skin color which would break my heart. 

I came across a small homeschool pamphlet on courtship yesterday which listed a number of factions which would disqualify a person as a potential spouse. One of them was entitled "race".  

My eyes filled with tears and I threw the book across the room. 

It's just that mindset which is so contrary to the Word of God which says that in Christ there is neither "Jew nor Greek" and that God is no "respecter of persons", that frustrates me so much. 

Perhaps because I personally have experienced it, and i know firsthand the destructive consequences. 

It has taken me years to see anything beautiful in my skin color. It's still a struggle. There are days I'm ok with it, and days I hate it because it's so.... brown. 

If race is something I have no control over, then what makes a white girl more christian simply because she, through no superiority or fault of her own, was born with less melanin in her skin than me? 

And after years spent with SPF 100, whitening creams, etc. I give up. 

I'm me and that has to be enough. 

But I can one hundred percent assure you that those books aren't helping anything, and that it's stupid to hold one skin color up as "better" than another. Because in the eyes of God we are all equal, no matter, and it's about time the homeschool community discards the religious baloney and heads back to Scripture on this one.