I’ve been teaching now for about fifteen years. I have two kids myself, but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second grade classroom a few years back.When I was a kid, I loved show-and-tell. So I always have a few sessions with my students. It helps them get over shyness and usually, show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never, ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it in to school and talk about it, they’re welcome.Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very outgoing kid, takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater.She holds up a snapshot of an infant. ‘This is Luke, my baby brother, and I’m going to tell you about his birthday.’‘First, Mom and Dad made him as a symbol of their love, and then Dad put a seed in my Mom’s stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for nine months through an umbrella cord.’She’s standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I’m trying not to laugh and wishing I had my camcorder with me. The kids are watching her in amazement.‘Then, about two Saturdays ago, my Mom starts going, ‘Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh!’ Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans. ‘She walked around the house for, like an hour, ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ (Now this kid is doing a hysterical duck walk and groaning.)‘My Dad called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn’t have a sign on the car like the Domino’s man. They got my Mom to lie down in bed like this.’ (Then Erica lies down with her back against the wall.)‘And then, pop! My Mom had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like psshhheew!’ (This kid has her legs spread with her little hands miming water flowing away. It was too much!)‘Then the middle wife starts saying ‘push, push,’ and ‘breathe, breathe.
They started counting, but never even got past ten. Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff that they all said it was from Mom’s play-center, so there must be a lot of toys inside there. When he got out, the middle wife spanked him for crawling up in there in the first place.’Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat.I’m sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, when it’s Show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder, just in case another ‘Middle Wife’ comes along.
I was never treated delicately like a flower, but rather I have always been tossed about, picked at, pulled at and thrown away like a weed. And in harsh environments I thrive. Like the weed I am neglected, stepped on, forgotten only remembered as a nuisance. I am fun only for a moment but never cherished or treasured like a beautiful flower. Maybe I am admired from afar because at times I have beautiful petals, and because I am rooted firmly into the ground, but when it is discovered that I am nothing but a common weed I am despised. And in harsh environments I thrive, in bad relationships, with cruel treatment I thrive and unlike a flower that wilts I stand strong.
This is for women that have been abused and now struggle with self mutilation, eating disorders, flashbacks, those like myself that suffer with obsessive thinking…
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I am not one to comment on “celebrity” stuff but in this case I felt compelled to.
By now I am sure that most people have read about the Joshua Duggar scandal. I read his letter of apology not only to his family but to his fellow Christians as well. I would hope that as Christians we would all show this young man grace. This scandal is one of two that have followed the idealized Christian Duggar family.
Instead of seeing failure, shame and hypocrisy I see human beings. Christians are humans too, and like everyone else we sin. Like everyone else we struggle with sin. I have heard people condemn Josh Duggar, and question his salvation. Josh Duggar suffers from a human condition that we all suffer with, something innate in us from the day that we are born. Sin. The potential for sin is in all of us, Christian and non Christian alike. We all have the potential to steal, to lie, to be a glutton, to fornicate, to practice homosexuality, it is in us. For those of us who know better because of our parents or because God Himself has convicted us we must remember to show grace because it through grace that we have been saved.
I am a Christian. But for almost a decade of my life I struggled with sin. If you have read my blog you may know that I was involved in a casual sex lifestyle. I used to tell my partners about God. I was a hypocrite but hypocrisy is part of the human condition at one point or another we are all guilty of it. I prayed and prayed for years for God to help me because there were times I wanted to stop. I prayed and I prayed, I read my bible but I still fell back into sleeping around. My transformation was not overnight, it was not an instant fix. It was a long and arduous journey. It took time and I am still a work in progress. As the song says “Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me I once was lost but now am found was blind but now I see.” Only God can take someone like myself so broken, ugly and damaged by sin and transform me into someone whole, beautiful and complete in Him.
God can turn this situation around for Josh Duggar. God can use him as a vessel to testify and to help other men that struggle with infidelity and pornography. This ugly situation can be transformed and that is our hope in God. I hope in a God that makes the impossible possible. I hope in a God that came to save the likes of me a very sick woman, that of Josh Duggar and countless of others.
If God can take the apostle Paul, a man who persecuted Christians and turn him into a stalwart of the faith, just imagine what God can do for you. With this post Christian or not I hope that in your life you will practice showing others grace.
“What can wash away my sin,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus,
What can make me whole again,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus,
Oh precious is the flow that makes me white as snow, Oh,
No other fount I know, Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”
The title might sound a little dramatic to someone who hasn’t lived a casual sex lifestyle. But for me it was a decade on and off of casual sex. I have since then “repented of my ways” and now I am in a long term, serious relationship.
Has casual sex affected my relationship? It most definitely has. I met my boyfriend through a casual sex encounter. Why him? I don’t know. But when I had sex with him for the first time I cried and I believe that it was my human tears, the expression of a human being and not an object that bound us together. And after meeting him all the times I relapsed into sleeping around with random strangers casual sex just was not the same.
I have not posted in some months. I have been in school and sorting out get off anti depressants. But I feel like myself again. Life after Casual Sex will be a new category featured on my blog where I discuss my journey after leaving the casual sex lifestyle. I will continue to share my story and educate women about casual sex without the camera lens and the glamour. Again I want to thank my followers and supporters and also those of whom are new to my blog.
Happy Blogging and Happy Reading!!
I started a new blog focusing on women, image and sexuality. I want to celebrate the multifaceted beauty of women. An image can be more powerful than words at times.
I am not much of a reader, more of a writer. I saw this image and barely browsed over the long train of words that followed after it. Instead, I was fascinated by the picture. It speaks for itself, “The pain of motherhood”. Her scar is permanent like the permanent string that will forever bind mother and child together for life.
Motherhood is the perfect symbol of strength. Women have the ability to carry a life for nine months as their bodies stretch and become distorted. Then they deliver this new life painfully into the world only to have the responsibility of keeping it alive for a decade, or even two. The breasts her husband once groped are now sacs of milk that provide food and nourishment for her baby. Her body is sprinkled with stretch marks and sometimes her taunt skin becomes loose and saggy. Her vagina, the object…
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Love is Sacrifice. Love is uncomfortable. Loving someone can be a long and arduous journey. Its a bed of roses alright, a bed of of roses full of thorns in them. Ha! Can you weather the storms of life together or will the raging winds force you apart? I can say it was worth it now but ask me again in a few years when life gets even harder.
Casual sex was my comfort, my defense, sex was a tool that I used, the action that brought dopamine to my dopamine deprived brain. Casual sex did not make me depressed, instead for me, it was a symptom of my depression. Back then I probably looked like a shallow slut to my peers but It was my bandage. I needed it to feel good, my teenage mind could not understand that I was harming myself. And like smoking a joint , or drinking too much, it just added to the longevity of my depression and when those minutes, hours of “fun” were over the things that plagued my mind were still there.
I went from casual sex, to drinking, to smoking, to cutting, to doing all those things simultaneously. I am the master of self-medication, unfortunately. I missed out on learning how to soothe myself in a healthy way, self comfort for me is always self destructive. Hurting myself comforts me even at my age, I feel pathetic admitting this but I am just being honest.
I got into a serious relationship, a long distance serious relationship, and casual sex, drinking and smoking all went out the window, and cutting remained. I always say that it has been the one constant source of comfort in my life which saddens me, it grieves me. I am in anguish to feel that taking a blade to my skin soothes me, but it does, it delivers the dopamine to my brain, the dopamine that I need. It is a coping mechanism that I wish I never tried. A malady that after 7 years I cannot rid myself of. When I cut myself I can see better, I am seeing from eyes that are not my own, I automatically snap out of whatever kind of emotional meltdown I am experiencing, I can focus better, I can rationalize better,like someone chasing their first high I think if I cut some more maybe I will feel even better, it is a terrible addiction, you do not want to deal with this and I do not wish this on anyone.
I was on antidepressants but my feelings were monotonous. Life is not meant to be lived in one note there are ups and downs its learning how to manage those ups and downs is what counts.Being an unfeeling zombie that is constantly gaining weight or starving oneself and self mutilating? You choose? Since I have gotten off my medication I went back to starving and cutting, starving and cutting and thoughts of suicide. And I wonder if I was not in a relationship would I have gone back to casual sex too?
I am caught in the cycle of self harm and depression. I just substitute one behavior for another.
I cut myself this time, recently after over a year of being cut free. This time I disassociated while cutting, I saw myself cutting my wrists and I did the oddest thing I took the blood on my wrists and smeared it across the walls of my bedroom, and I am watching myself do this odd behavior and thinking, “this is not normal, why are you doing this” but I could not stop. As I did this I saw flashback of that nine year old child, I was her sitting on the floor scratching at her legs for the first time I felt like her, I saw her and it scared me. Yes what I just wrote is disturbing but it does not make me any less human, or any less lovable, or less than the next person that just cries or copes with stress in a healthier manner.
Despite my struggle (and believe me when I say every bleeping day is a struggle) I fall on the ground and curl up into a ball and cry sometimes because I feel like I don’t have the strength anymore but I keep picking myself back up. Starving, bleeding from cuts, dizzy from lack of food I still pick myself back up. Life is a journey with many winding roads, you will fall maybe more than those around you but what matters is that you keep picking yourself back up, you tried. Keep trying, fight to live, life is a gift so keep fighting to live.
People may read this and tell me I need help, saying that to me is counterproductive because I know that I need help.I am blessed that I am able to function and no one knows unless I tell them, I’m like that functioning alcoholic that does everyday things. Of course I know my behavior is unsustainable.I hope people read this and thank God that they have a sound mind, its a sad thing to watch yourself deteriorate, relapse, or be sick mentally. It is sad when you can see it but you are unable to stop. I never will be 100 percent healed or perfect because I am only a mere human. But in my imperfection I can offer and give you my story so you know that if you are struggling like me you are not alone, or if you have someone you love going through this maybe it will help you understand them better.
I am a Christian and I suffer from these maladies of the mind, it does not mean that God loves me less. God is with me in those time of depression, He sees me, He cares for me, I’m sure His heart is grieved, with His strength ,mercy and His unconditional love to want to love me in this state, He is my hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
I hope this inspires you to live, fight to live.