6/29/2021 0 Comments Where is God?I just paused the song “Ancient and Brave” by John Mark McMillan. The first chorus just played and the words “where’s God at a time like this, where is God?” are ringing through my head. It’s in so many ways such a simple question, but it really is a profound one. One that so many have asked throughout the ages. One often asked in a desperate, depressed and/or sad state. It’s a question one asks when they feel abandoned. It’s one I have asked many times. It’s one that I often don’t have an answer to, because if I’m being honest, I’m not always convinced in the existence of God, or to be more specific, in the existence of Yahweh at the very least. I definitely believe in a spiritual realm. I have had too many spiritual experiences to not believe that there is something spiritual out there that we can’t physically interact with or see. But, where is Yahweh, the God whom I am supposed to serve? The one who supposedly created me? I remember asking that back right after conversion therapy ended. The first time I hit rock bottom. I hated life so much that I was literally praying to God to kill me. I had no hope for life even one bit. I just finished two years of hell. Two years of having no other option to hate myself for being trans and being forced to “man up.” I remember just asking God “where are you?” I felt that God abandoned me. I felt that it was because maybe because the therapy didn’t work, because I was such a horrible sinner that I remained trans. I prayed for death, waiting for it to come. That’s the first time I can think of asking that question. I probably asked it before then, but that’s as far back as my memory will allow at the moment. I remember having no hope. I remember thinking I was a failure. Everything was collapsing in my life, especially my mental and emotional state. My mental health after conversion therapy was so bad I genuinely paranoid. I remember being too scared to go to sleep because I was genuinely afraid that my family was waiting for me to do so in order to come in to rape and kill me. That’s how bad of a state I was in. I was paranoid, dehumanized, and felt completely alone and abandoned, especially by God.
Lately I have really been thinking a lot about the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. One of the most impactful moments for me in all of it is the moment when Jesus cries out from the cross: “Father, why have you abandoned me?” God the Father abandoned His own son, Jesus in His weakest moment. God straight up abandoned Jesus. Our own Savior knows how we feel. Heck, He understands it to a deeper level than I could understand. For me, this might be the most amazing moment in the whole crucifixion and resurrection story. The God who created me understands how I feel. The God I cry out to “where are you?” felt what I feel. Not saying it makes everything ok. It doesn’t, but it does help me feel slightly less alone. “Where is God” is a question I have been asking a lot of lately. I haven’t been feeling much hope for now or the future. In many ways right now feels very similar to when I first exited conversion therapy. I feel as if God has left me. I feel that I can do no right. I feel quite alone. I find death appealing. Ever since I was a child I wanted to die young. I knew even back then I could never live life as a man, so if I couldn’t be a woman, I would rather be dead. That was my thought process as a mere child. As I got older and my gender dysphoria only got worse, suicidal tendencies got added to the mix. Then I started to have to reckon with the fact that my parents were abusive and I couldn’t handle the abuse anymore. It became firmly embedded in my mind that a young death was desirable, preferably before age 25. Today, it still stands. My numerous physical problems (I got all the bad genes in the family), my severe trauma, and so many other things have only contributed to a strong desire I currently feel for death. To die in my sleep or something like that. Just pure hopelessness. Dreams that have been shattered. Having to have been my own parent growing up. Constant dehumanization. Lack of any prospects for a future life. So many things. Earlier I mentioned that it was nice knowing that God understands how I often have felt over the years. Now, I turn the table and realize that I understand, to a small degree the hopelessness He almost certainly felt at that point. The despair. The loneliness. In many ways it makes me love Him all the more. What other god can you share the same emotional experiences with like that? A god who has experienced despair like that? Help me to believe dear God. Help me to have hope again, like I did as a child. Hope that everything will be alright. Hope enough to not wish death upon myself all the time like I do. Be my provider. Jesus. Be there for me, especially when no one else is. Help me to trust and believe.
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6/27/2021 0 Comments June 27th, 2021I have a mutual on Twitter named Shari Smith (Her Twitter: https://twitter.com/faithandcoffeee?s=09) and she has started this weekend to attempt take over a hashtag, #ModestIsHottest. The reason for this is a song and video (the video has since been taken down) by Matthew West who wrote a song titled "Modest is Hottest." Personally, I haven't been able to submit myself to that kind of torture that would be listening to that song. I listen to enough shitty Christian pop as it is (I'm still recovering from the crime against humanity that is MercyMe's newest album. It was so bad I haven't been able to bring myself to listen to any music at all in the last few weeks since listening). That said, I have seen and heard enough to get the gist of the song. It's toxic. Basically, it promotes the old misogynistic trope that women must cover up to protect boys from themselves. But, because Matthew West is a woke misogynist he frames it as covering yourself up completely and showing no skin is actually a lot hotter than, God forbid, showing a little cleavage or a shoulder. I can't even how much trouble it must be for some guy to keep it in his pants if he sees a female knee or upper leg. Will someone think of the poor boys? Obviously, I'm being extremely sarcastic at the moment. So, let me move beyond my trademark mockery and sarcasm and attempt to behave myself more than I do on my podcast and actually be serious (shameless plug, I know: https://anchor.fm/trans-ramblings). So, for a very brief background if you have no idea who the hell I am, I, Anna Hudak (pronounced "Who-Doc" not "Who-Dak" like most people pronounce it) am a trans woman. I was assigned male at birth and started transitioning to female 15 months ago. I grew up in a very fundamentalist church. The church I grew up in, girls and women wore long dresses and skirts every Sunday and boys and men wore, at the minimum, button-down shirts if not suits and ties (I hated ties with every fiber of my being so I never wore them unless I was forced to). Male modesty, of course, was never talked about. When it came to guys, the only things we were ever talked to about was how girls were a walking and talking sexual temptation for us and it was our duty to keep it in our pants until we married one right out of high school then we could fuck our brains out, and do it on demand because women are sub-servient to men. We also learned in indirect ways that rape happened because women dressed too inappropriately, so if a rape happened, it was a woman's fault. Because of all this, I remember when I was little, my sisters and mom always wore dresses or skirts while out in public. NEVER pants. It was considered scandalous and we would look down in judgement upon all the women wearing pants in public. I even remember when we would go swimming my sisters in addition to their bathing suits had to also wear shirts and skirts over the suit, to, you know, make sure they weren't tempting any boys. Meanwhile, as someone assigned male, I could go out merely in swimming shorts and no shirt, heck, I was expected to (which I rarely did before puberty and never did during puberty thanks to gender dysphoria, and therefore always covered up, heck, I tried to convince my parents to let me wear pants into the pool because of how dysphoric my legs made me). I remember being looked down upon for wearing a shirt while swimming, because apparently, I wasn't taking full advantage of all the privileges that being assigned male afforded me. I also remember looking up to the Duggar family. We were hooked to their TV show and idolized them for their "modesty." Our family saw them as role models. Not only for covering up but also requiring courting instead of dating in a romantic relationship (another toxic fundamentalist belief pushed on me, and one I admittedly, haven't deconstructed yet, mainly due to being aromatic and asexual). So, these are the things I remember growing up. The purity culture lessons I learned. As I got older things changed. My sisters and mom could wear pants in public. I learned that women weren't asking for rape if they went out showing some skin. Yet, purity culture prevailed. I continued to be taught that sex before marriage is one of the worst sins one could commit (the Bible isn't anti-fornication and I will die on that hill) and therefore my sisters were given purity rings. My dad called my youngest sister a slut for wearing shorts that went above her knee by about a centimeter. I watched these things as a gender dysphoric teenager going through male puberty and taking all these lessons in. I can only imagine how these lessons only made accepting myself as a woman only that much harder. Being taught that women were lesser than men and needed to cover themselves up to hide themselves from the "male gaze." So, now we're in the present. I'm transitioning and openly living as a woman, and now, all these years of purity culture is affecting me more than ever. I have been shopping for women's clothing and while I have finally mostly figured out what all the different types of clothing are and am figuring out my style, I find myself repulsed when I try something on that shows any skin, because of all the ingrained lessons. Last year, one of the very first outfits I bought was a long shirt and leggings. I thought I looked really cute in it, but, those leggings though. So immodest! Sure, they didn't show any skin and aren't completely form-fitting, but still! So immodest! No self-respecting women would ever go out wearing those! Well, I did buy them anyway, but have been terrified to wear that outfit in public. I did it once at a friend's request, but that was it. It was scary, and the thought of doing it again is scary. Doing so goes against every bit of programming I was programmed with. Then, there's a dress I bought for myself this year. It's a long dress that has no sleeves (sin #1) and is a v-neck (sin #2) that is low enough to show cleavage (sin #3), though in my case isn't an issue at all because quite simply, I don't have a cleavage at all (thanks to the HRT gods hating me and despite having taken stuff to grow breasts a year even before transition, they're still stupid small). I love the dress, but am terrified of actually wearing it in front of anybody because well, I have been informed quite simply that it's immodest. So, while I have not gotten over my purity culture programming, I'm on the road of doing so. I have started on my way, as scary and long as it is. Hopefully someday I can gain the courage to go out wearing a dress that makes me feel pretty that shows my non-existent cleavage. So, please, if you're so inclined, take a pic of yourself with an outfit showing some skin and post it with the hashtag #ModestIsHottest. Let's beat back purity culture in any way we can. Let's take over this hashtag from the fundies (and Matthew West) and get out this good message.
P.S. I was thinking about this post and re-reading it and realized I actually had a bit more to say. Purity culture is not only misogynistic but anti-queer fundamentally. Many an article and book has been written about how misogynistic purity culture is, putting the blame for men's inappropriate behavior on women, making women think lesser of themselves, and teaching men that women are nothing more than sex objects. But, it also works to work against gender variance. I genuinely believe that purity culture helped make it harder to accept myself as a woman, because, purity culture leads to one seeing women as lesser than (in addition to everything else in society). Then, once one transitions, they have all those lessons ingrained in their heads and even if you have deconstructed all those beliefs from a male point-of-view, you still never needed to do so from a female point-of-view. Now you are the one expected to live out purity culture and have to fight against it. Before, as a guy, I could learn that it was wrong and just move on with my life. Now, as a woman, someone this is pushed upon, I can't anymore. I have to unlearn these lessons from a more personal view. Before I saw it all from a macro view, now it's from a micro-view. These are the things no one prepares you for when you transition, and it's a major shock. Living as a trans woman has allowed me to experience purity culture as both a man and a woman, (aka, an observer and later as someone who it personally effects in a obvious way) and as someone who had previously gotten out of purity culture, or at least, thought I did, as a man, only to be thrown back in as a woman. I understand how harmful it is to both men and women, I have experienced it's harms for both. Almost makes me wonder if I will ever actually escape it to be honest. Anyway, back to my earlier point, it was another thing in my life teaching me that not only were women less than, but trans people are lesser than. So, if trans people are sub-human, and women are sub-human, then we are left with the notion that trans-women are the most sub-human of them all (which unfortunately, is a notion widely pushed with the narratives that trans women are predators and pedophiles. Heck, I know of Christians who actually argue that trans women are worse than pedophiles). It instills in a trans woman that not only is she bad for having such desires, but is degrading herself by living as a mere temptation. Remember, men are taught in purity culture, even sometimes explicitly that women are just walking and talking sexual temptations for men. So, by transitioning, as the logic would go, I would be reducing myself to a walking talking sexual temptation for "real" men (and even worse, because since I'm apparently "lying" about being a woman, I'm apparently trying to trick some poor man into having gay sex, which is even worse). So, anyway, I just wanted to point out just some of the ways purity culture affects trans women as gender queer voices on this discussion are pretty much unheard of. Maybe sometime I will come back after thinking about all of this more deeply, as this is something I decided upon to write about on the spur of the moment. One final note, I wonder how this affects trans men who grew up under purity culture. I can only guess, and I would love to hear from trans men who grew up under purity culture how they dealt with all these teachings. I really would love for more of a queer presence, a queer voice in these discussions as many of us have different perspectives and different interactions with purity culture due to just being queer. 6/19/2021 0 Comments June 19th, 2021So, one of the things I have struggled with the most since transitioning is having to cut off anti-trans friends. While I have never had many friends, there were two in particular who I was actually friends with for years. One of them was my best friend. A guy that I loved, and do love like a brother, which has made it all the harder to cut him out. To be honest though, I do over-state how little experience with friendships I have had mainly because of my former best friend and the pain of cutting him off, it just makes it easier to cope (that said, I still don't have much experience, but I do have more experience with having friends then I make it out to be, like, I did have friends, including a best friend). Anyway, he made his views on LGBT people, especially trans people, known a few years ago due to a negative experience with several other trans women. Over the next few years he became more and more bold in anti-LGBT rhetoric. So, when I went homeless and it got to the point that I had to go completely open as a woman, I had to make the painful decision of cutting him out of my life. To be honest, I never even told him. I never told him I was trans, and I didn't tell him I was cutting him out. I simply blocked him on everything. My phone, Facebook, Instagram, and maybe my gaming platforms as well (maybe). Anyway, the reason I did it that way was because I was already struggling with being homeless and my dysphoria was forcing me to be completely public with my transition. I had to have everyone call me Anna. I had to change my social media accounts to Anna. I knew he was going to reject me. He had made it clear his stance on LGBT people, especially trans women. I didn't have the emotional energy or strength at the time to deal with any of that. Cutting him off silenty was hard enough. I love him dearly. I hate how this all ended. While I am very much a woman, and am quite happy with being a woman and have no interest in being a man, I am not going to lie when I say that sometimes I wish I could have been a cis-guy just so that the friendship didn't have to end the way it did. That's the only reason I would ever want to be a guy. That said, 99.999% of the time I am quite happy as a woman and have no interest in being a guy. Seriously though, I regret how the friendship ended. I mean, it's not like we were talking that much by that point anyway. Can't even remember the last time I saw him. We barely talked, saw each other even less, but there was still a bond there. We still cared for each other. I still loved him as a brother. I miss him. Greatly. I miss playing "Call of Duty: Black Ops 2" multiplayer and zombie mode with him. I miss playing "Tron: Evolution Battle Grids" with him and all of his family and mine taking turns in futily trying to beat him in "Super Smash Bros Brawl." I miss playing football with him. I miss staying up all night talking with him. I miss reading comics with him. I miss our inside jokes, especially "can I have a bar," and "Nicklybear" (yes, my old branding that I used as a logo for everything on all my accounts is an inside joke). I still remember how both were created quite well. I remember being at a Bible Quiz Meet (Bible quizzing, in short, is where you study several chapters of a book or two of the Bible and compete to be first to get the chance to answer a question based off of what you studied by jumping off a bench with triggers that lets a judge know who jumped first), it was his first one ever, and it was the start of my second year. It was one of the best days of my life. We got in a lot of trouble, such as getting chased across the church property by several people from our church who we were spying on with my youngest sister. Just saying, they were asking for it. A teenage boy and (a rather obviously hot) girl all alone in a dark room that was locked and had almost no windows and they were seated in a place that was almost impossible to see from the window behind them, yeah, they were asking for us to spy on them. They caught us and chased us around until they caught us. Would do it over again in a heartbeat though. Anyway, the inside joke comes from the very beginning of the quiz meet. The church we were at had some breakfast foods out, which was nice considering that it was not long after 8:30 and we had driven two and a half hours to get there. They had a good sized bowl of "Nutri-Grain" bars and we sat in the eating area and he ate a few, then grabbed another one on the way out. He ate it within a few minutes and asked if we could go back so he could get another bar. We did, and a few minutes later he asked if he could have another one. The cycle continued for quite awhile. He ate an impressive amount of Nutri-Grain bars. That's where our inside joke of "can I have a bar comes from." In regards to "Nicklybear," it comes from camp. He loved singing the song "Dumb Ways to Die," especially the line "poke a stick at a grizzly bear." I hated that song. So, one morning we were in the eating area and he was singing it to annoy me and I was in a particularly grumpy mood and didn't hide my grumpiness. Now, it make sense of this, you must know my dead-name is "Nicholas," but pretty much everyone except for old people called me "Nick." So, that morning with how grumpy and combative I was, he, with biggest, dumbest grin on his face changed the line to: "poke a stick at a Nicklybear." I just about killed him. I hated it at first, but over time it grew on me to the point of making it my whole branding for awhile. Even to this day my Tumblr blog's and Twitter username is Nicklybear. That's where I got that. Anyway, all this to say, I miss the guy. I love him dearly, and pray nothing but the best and I hope it works out between him and that girl he has loved for several years but has been too shy to admit to anyone but me (but everyone else knows it, and apparently she really loves him but doesn't recognize it herself. Seriously, why do people who love each other not recognize it? It makes no sense and is so dumb. Seriously, know yourself). I hope he is successful in life. He made quite a bit of money, more than I could ever dream of seeing. Love you man. May God bless you.
6/13/2021 0 Comments June 13th, 2021I have been slowly learning how true it is that whatever your relationship with your parents is like is a reflection of your relationship with God. I don't trust my parents and I don't trust God. I don't see either as good. My parents are abusive, and in the same way I see God as abusive. Those have already been established. Tonight I also realized that because I have always felt like a burden to my parents, I feel like a burden to God. I am terrified to ask Him for anything that's not extremely small. I don't want to be a nuisance. Plus, I am just used to going it alone. I believe I have to do everything in life completely alone or I have failed, because my family was never there for me growing up.
Just as I have always been scared of my parents, I am scared of God. Just as I have always been a let down to my parents, I consistently feel as if I am a let-down to God. If I am being honest, I don't believe His grace extends to me. Everytime I fuck up, I feel as if I have let-down God. I don't believe He could ever forgive me. Whenever I fucked up growing up I hid from my parents, because they never handled anything well. Now, I am attempting to hide from God because I am terrified of his wrath and punishing me in unfair ways. I don't believe God is good or just. I genuinely believe He hates me. Just as I always believed my parents did. Why God do you have to present yourself as our parent? An image that is so harmful? My parents never listened to me. They never were available, or, should I say, claimed to just "not have the time" for me, so I feel that God isn't available for me. I don't believe God will ever be there for me. I always feel a distance between me and God just as I always feel a distance between me and my parents. I don't believe God is there for me. He may be there for others, but not for me. I don't believe at all that He has my best interest in mind. I don't believe even remotely that He loves me. I don't view Him as the good shepherd, searching for the wandering. I view Him as the shepherd who left me to the wolves. In all honesty, I believe He hates me, just as I hate Him. All I feel in my heart is anger and bitterness. Anger and bitterness towards my parents and God. Mostly God. I have one cold, black heart. When the roll is called up yonder, I don't believe I will be there, at all. If I were a betting woman I would put all my money on spending eternity separated from God. I don't know what to do. What to believe. How to love. How to move on. I hate this bitterness and anger. I hate not believing that God loves me. I hate feeling like a nuisance to God and all these things. I just don't know how to change. The more I try to change, the worse everything gets. 6/11/2021 0 Comments June 11th, 2021Recently my mom made a comment to me on the lines of that she couldn't understand why me and my younger sisters couldn't see our own value. All three of us have no self-worth and have no confidence in ourselves or abilities. Mom didn't understand why. I know why, but I didn't say why. It's because of parental abuse. Mom, but mostly dad, abused all three of us kids growing up. Heck, my youngest sister is still being abused by them. My parents treated me the worst (that's agreed upon by my two sisters) and only got worse after finding out I'm trans (conversion therapy, wanting to send me to an all-boys school, and so many more terrible things) and required me to run away and be homeless for them to treat me with any respect at all. I won't even go into the abuse my sisters got. While I may be the most abused, some of the stuff my parents did to my sisters is so beyond abhorrent I sometimes try to forget about it for my own mental health. And this is stuff they did to my sisters, not me. It finally got to the point where in 2019 I literally almost murdered my dad in cold blood because I could handle the abuse anymore, and last summer on one night my dad was abusing my youngest sister so badly I almost murdered him again I was so beyond angry with what he was doing to her. I remember as a small child dreaming of getting away from my parents because I knew they didn't love me. They were never there for me. I remember trying to talk to them and get much needed emotional support as a kid, but they just apparently never had time for me. So, I learned that I didn't matter. I learned my emotions not only didn't matter but were bad and needed to be hidden away and never expressed. So, that's why. That's why neither me or my sisters can see our own self-worth. I don't believe I have any. I genuinely believe that when I die no one will care because I didn't do anything to make a good impact on anyone's life. I don't believe I'm capable of doing anything. I have no confidence at all. I'm completely worn down and broken. And yet my parents refuse to acknowledge any of their abuse. I mean, they have literally gaslighted all three of us kids at once to our faces before. I genuinely remember our dad lying to our faces claiming he never said something he absolutely did say and us kids going into my room afterwards and asking each other, "are we crazy? Are we just imagining things?" Even when brought to their attention examples of abuse, they have two responses: 1) deny it ever happened or claim we're exaggerating how bad it was, or 2) admit they did it and then ask for forgiveness and then start abusing us even worse shortly afterwards. Another thing that is so rich that my parents are doing right now is pretending that they always accepted me as trans. They genuinely act as if they were always accepting. As if they never sent me to conversion therapy, or almost sent me to an all-boys school in hopes it would make me "man up," or make me do a bunch of manual labor for months on end for the same reasons, or sit there for hours preaching to me why the Bible says being trans is wrong (and always conflating being trans with being gay, because you know, they're clearly the same thing. Yes, that was me being sarcastic. Just needed to make that clear so I don't get angry messages from people thinking I actually believe that). So, that's why. And of course, this lack of acknowledgement is why I can't grow closer to my parents. We do have the best relationship I ever had with them at the moment, but it's not that great of a relationship to be honest, because they refuse to own up to the fact that they seriously fucked us kids up. They just pretend they never abused us. Until my parents can acknowledge that and literally turn from those abusive ways, our relationship can never grow beyond what I consider to be a "passable" relationship. It's good enough that I will see my parents twice a week, but not enough for me to confide in them much or to ever move back in with them. I'd rather sleep in the streets than live under the same roof with them.
6/4/2021 0 Comments June 04th, 2021I don't trust God. I keep failing Him. He gives me great opportunities, but because I'm a fearful idiot, I turn them down. I have honestly stopped asking Him for anything for me. If I pray, which is getting more and more rare, I only pray for others. I don't pray for myself anymore. Why should I? I never take advantage of any of the opportunities He presents me either out of depression or fear. God shouldn't give me anything. I keep squandering His grace. That, and I keep failing Him in every other way as well. Bitterness and anger are constantly taking over my life. I always allow my cynicism to turn into bitterness and anger and start dreaming of violence and wishing death on people I can't stand. I'm not loving. I'm not loving at all. I don't live a life that looks anything like Jesus. I can't. I know so many, including people around my age who when you meet them, you just feel the Holy Spirit. You know there is something different about them. You feel the love and grace they have just being in their presence. Then there's me. I always allow myself to fall into hatred and fear. I allow my doubts to win. I have no strength anymore. I don't trust God. I don't even go to Him for anything anymore. I shouldn't even bother asking Him for anything, because I won't take advantage of it. I'm a failure. I'm a horrible Christian who can't love. I'm a Christian who can't trust God. I can't even understand what love even is. I can't even get myself to read the Bible. I let fear win. Maybe I am nothing more than a vessel prepared for God's wrath. That's what I assumed I was years ago before accepting myself as trans. Maybe I was right, but not for the reasons I assumed. Back then I assumed I was just a vessel of God's wrath because I was trans. Now it's because my life is the exact opposite of everything in the Bible, heck, the exact opposite of what I even preach. To be honest, I don't practice what I preach. Most of what I preach I just say in hopes that if I put it out there publicly, I'll start living that way. But, I have no accountability at the end of the day, so I don't change. I feel no connection to God. It feels as if there's a wall between us. Maybe because I have no connection with the rest of the body of Christ due to bitterness and fear. I don't know how to change. I want to. I don't know how. I literally cannot live with myself the way I am right now. I have been desiring death so much lately because of how bad my life is right now. All I feel is intense shame. If I'm being honest, I don't really even know if I am a Christian anymore. If I am not practicing anything I preach. If I don't trust God, and don't love, am I a Christian? Just from what I have read in the Bible, I don't think so. Just fucked up too much. I don't know. I don't know anything. If I am being honest, I wouldn't even know what to pray for anymore. I have nothing left. Just my pride, my cynicism, my bitterness and anger. My brokeness. My shitty life. My lack of faith. God, if you are out there and love me… I don't even know. I wish I could talk to you. But, how? Even if I could understand how, what do I even say? Shouldn't I have all this figured out by now? All I guess I can say is: please forgive me, though that's probably the very last thing I should ask for. I don't deserve any at all. All I do is fuck everything up. Please just forgive me God. I used to ask you to use me. I used to ask you to be my provider. I don't know how I could ask you for those things again when I was always so ungrateful and fearful. Just please forgive me God. Even if I am eternally damned. Just forgive me for my lack of trust, at least. I've got nothing left God. I won't even ask for strength. I don't deserve any and shouldn't have any. I will just squander it. That's all I ever do.
Oh, and God, one last thing. You know that situation that is going on? The one that literally no one else knows about except you and me? The one in which I know what the right thing to do is, but am too scared to do so because it could cause further divisions between me and my parents and my parents are all I have right now? Like, why would you give me such a moral dilemma? My parents are all I have God, you know that. We don't have the best relationship to start with, but they are all I have. I don't have anyone else I ever get to see in real life. They are the only people in my life who are family, even if they're not much of a family because of how abusive they are. You know I don't have a chosen family to spend time with. I don't have a spiritual family to be around. Why would you ask for me to do this thing that could cause a division? Sure, this thing wouldn't end a relationship between us by itself, but it could be just another fracture that leads to a completely broken relationship someday (as opposed to a pretty broken relationship now). I have to keep my parents. They're all I got and I left them once. I don't have the strength to cut them out of my life again if this just leads to more fracturing. I just wish I could talk about this. Why did you give me such a dilemma that I had to carry the burden of alone? It's times like this that I hate you, if I am being honest. I know it's wrong too. Hate is a sin, and you are the creator of the universe. Heck, you created me. The only reason I breathe or think or type plant of this out is because of you. Yet, sometimes, I literally hate you, such as when I think of this moral dilemma. Help me dear God to not hate you. |
AuthorHi! I'm Anna, a currently transitioning transgender woman! I started my blog "Ramblings of a Trans Woman" as therapy for gender and identity issues and abuse from my parents and church. Hopefully, someone else out there can get something from this. If you want to talk, just get in contact with me, there's plenty of ways how and we'll discuss the best way to talk! Archives
June 2022
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