stabLe_hips

I know I just posted, but that was when my husband was on the toilet, and I had coffee in hand, and was spending my morning in a relaxed manner.  Fast forward 20 minutes, and all hell has broken loose. Back story - Bob struggles with constipation and he's on a bowel routine.  He takes nutricleanse each morning, and if he goes three days without pooping, he gets a suppository to move things along.  Occasionally, Bob poops on day one or two, and then he feels like it always should be that way.  And in a perfect world, he's right - but in an MS world, we haven't seen that work out ver well.   This morning was day 2 - but he felt urge and wanted to try - so I gave him a suppository and had the PSW put him on the toilet - but surprise surprise - he didn't go.  He asked the PSW to leave him there, mostly dressed, and I would finish him once he pooped, which he never did.  For those of you following along, I'm off on STD due to broken ribs and am trying ...

 Today, I'm going back to the church that I was in when I heard from the pulpet that suicide, abortion, and homosexuality were all sins against god that humans could not be forgiven.    While I left the building almost immediately after hearing this, I didn't leave the organization right away - preferring to give the board some time to decide if they would reply or stand up or commit to a different way of thinking. In the end, no, they did not.  While there were some progressives in the mix, most of the tithing group was old school and did not disagree with the message.  Harm, it seemed, had a price tag.  So did love. And so I left - in stages, the building, the organization, and the faith - five years later still building and navigating my own.  So trauma-based, as it turns out, that going back to the building for an event unrelated to faith or religion feels worthy of some investigation. My "deconstruction" started when I realized I don't believe sui...

 Five years ago, I was standing in my kitchen, laptop open to facebook when I saw the message come in.  A friend's son had taken his own life - after struggling for years with mental health and sexual identity while navigating unleashed potential for singing, dancing, and acting.   At the funeral, his brother floated the idea that we were all sharing in his brother's pain, instead of his brother carrying it all - a message I reflect on five years later.  Is that what suicide is - a dividing of the pain to relieve the person carrying it?  Do I believe this, or does it just make me feel better?  Despite the best of religious upbringing and doctrination, I didn't know if I believed suicide was wrong, or a waste, or selfish, or (what I more deeply suspected) a judgement on us all for not protecting those around us. Five years ago, this young man's dad was married to his second wife - in a marriage that I thought had its ups and downs, tangled as we all wer...