5/12 Full Disclosure At End Of This Post
This is INSANE!!! Baby Pansy is studying Things Medical to become an R.N./Physician's Assistant. While searching the internet for information on lost libidos and SSRIs re some of her studies she found THIS:
"Three psychiatrists wrote in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry that granisetron (a sexual stimulant in rats) works great in men and women, if taken one hour before sex. But the drug, available as Kytril (and labeled for chemotherapy-related nausea control), costs $50 a pill. That means it would have to be a very hot date."
GUESS WHO GETS FUCKING PUMPED UP TO HER EYEBALLS WITH KYTRIL VIA I.V. WITH EVERY WEEKLY CHEMO SESSION? hahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahhahaha! After many failures to combat nausea, Kytril is the only drug that really has slammed down the chemo nausea for Pansy. Yeh, that Fucking Pansy is SO DEFINITELY one very hot date! Why, lookie here!! She has a whole slew of them "little white pills" in her medicine cabinet right now for in between chemo sessions.....should she feel the "need". Oh, Pansy has Needs all right! OMG. This is a scream!
Which reminds Pansy of even more proof that she is the Undisputed Most Manned Up Woman In The Universe: when all other MENopausly wimmin get drugged up with Estrogen Hormone Replacement Therapy to help them through their hot flashes/whatevers......what did PANSY'S doctor prescribe for HER? Testosterone! You read that right: TesTosTeRone! hahhahahahahhaa. Only took it for about 3 weeks way back whenever and it instantly fixed everything up Just Fine With The Pansy. And, NO, it did not make her Penis huger. Hell, the world already isn't ready for how large her Penis currently is!
DISCLAIMER: Pansy denies that Kytril has changed her in any way whatsoever. Except for she throws up a WHOLE LOT LESS now when she has sex with Mr. Pansy! hahahahahhahahahahaha!
UPDATE ON 5/10/08: On 5/9/08 I took a Kytril for scientific purposes only. Yes.
FULL DISCLOSURE 5/12/08:
I bravely took a Kytril on 5/9 to "see". And, no, I was not nauseated so now you know I have misused a prescription drug. I had joked earlier with a few people by predicting that Mr. Pansy would probably go all Pure and Holy on me and refuse a Kytril himself because it is not prescribed for him. And wouldn't you know it----he actually DID say those exact words! I laughed as I tore him a new one since I am certain those susbstances he took in his college years WERE prescribed for him. Not! hahahaha!
I chose to not tell Mr. Pansy I had taken the Kytril. That way he would not be on the lookout for anything or suspect things were different, IF they were going to be different. He was the "control" group that did not know he was not getting the placebo! hahaha! The effect did kick in at about 1 hour. It was real. Nothing mental, just physical. Like there was a disconnect between my brain and my body. Not so very different from the disconnect that happens in childbirth. Your body has its own agenda in childbirth and the same with Kytril and possibly all those other drugs such as Viagra.
The sensation was one of "feeling" (your genitals are saying "Hey! Here I am! Yoo hoo!") and the feeling was "pleasant". If I were an actual man and not merely The Most Manned Up Woman In The Universe I would say the blood engorgement that occurred would have caused the beginnings of an erection.
The actual sex part was not different. It did not take a longer or shorter amount of time, the orgasm was not more or less intense, but AFTERWARDS it was not over. I only went back down to "feeling". That must be where the 4 hour erection warning begins its countdown. Essentially, it was like having a gun that has been fired but then on its own it put another bullet into the chamber and cocked (pun!) the trigger.
Unfortunately, this scientific experiment was begun at 9:45pm (took pill), enacted at 10:50pm, and afterwards it's past Pansy's bedtime so she's too tired but also can't sleep. So I got up, read, watched tv, waited around for about 1-1/2 hours, then went to sleep. During the "coming down from the drug trip" time I wasn't anxious or annoyed or all hot to trot, but I say: use these libido drugs earlier in the evening so you can find out what the ongoing effects are all about.
Another comment on the actual sex part: the drug--much like the anti-depressants themselves--changes your usual M.O. You have to be much more in the "here and now" moment. None of that wandering off into erotic fantasies or thoughts. Or, at least, you have to be more careful with them. With anti-depressants your mind/body loses its "trigger" and it is difficult to get over the hump due to an impaired libido. With Kytril there is a similar tendency, if you don't stay very "here and now", to get derailed. What that means is you are getting more stimulated and suddenly it's like someone pushed in the clutch and revved the gas pedal. All high rpms but no traction. You race ahead of yourself, if that makes sense. So you have to back off the gas pedal, let the clutch out and start anew.
To my amazement SOME internet information/rumors are, in fact, TRUE! Just to make sure I keep my Pansy Cred, I "shared" this experiment information with my daughters. They now hate me lots and are likely to sue for counseling money. hahahahhahahaha! Hey! The Baby Pansy started it. Sue her!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Pansy Had A Dream
Technically, since she was just waking up, it wasn't so much a dream as it was a "vision". But it most definitely was extremely, I say Extremely, erotic. And it wasn't even about HER getting HER rocks off. How wrong is that!? Being a demure and not very revealing person, Pansy declines to describe in too much detail herein the details of the extremely, I say Extremely, erotic scenario. But it does involve: Mr. Pansy, a 1963 VW bug (pale green), an airport, a partially dressed evidently love-starved Pansy. She got into the car and then she did.............to Mr. Pansy, who.............well, he was satisfied with his end of the deal.
Pansy calls it "Let's Play Airport". Yes, the Pansys are still finding yet more Hot Nasty things to do with each other that they have never done with each other or anyone else. If one were a RUDE reader of this report, one might be inclined to try imagining what "Let's Play Airport" involves. Well, it does NOT involve: Anything other than something so mundane as it would EMBARRASS the Pansy to reveal the details/rules of "Let's Play Airport". Unfortunately, Pansy, who likes to think she is not stupid, stupidly revealed the details/rules of "Let's Play Airport" to that horndog, Mr. Pansy. He has been all over her about the prospects ever since.
A week later Pansy is at lunch with the Portugese Washer Woman and Sexy Mexican. During this lunch Sexy says her husband got all weird on her about her latest thoughts: she would like to get a collar/leash setup. For her neck, not his. That Sexy! hahahahhahaha! Who knew? But her husband is all like "But how would I know what to do? What if I pull it too tight?" Uh, I think that part about Sexy yelling at him "You are choking me"--wouldn't that be a clue? And then Portugese says she and hubby have finally decided that they aren't destined to have another child (they have one 14 year old and have been trying) and went to appointments for a vasectomy. But first the doctor says they must test Portugese for pregnancy and the damn whore is PREGNANT! Right this very now! So, Sexy and Pansy burst into a bit of teariness at the restaurant at this great news just when 17 year old pimple-boy server comes by to see if everything is okay. Pansy wails "I'm just fine, can't you tell?" He says "I think I will just go away from this for now." hahahhaha. Of course, we must then hug each other. Can we help it if our hands slipped and found Sexy's third nipple (it's on the right side by the way) and it simply happened that we gave Portugese a bit of a pelvic exam. After the restaurant manager kicked us out we went shopping for baby shower stuff and Mother's Day stuff and all kinds of The Damn Whore Portugese Is Pregnant stuff. With periodic outbursts of teariness from Sexy and Pansy in the various stores. And that Damn Portugese Tease....she did not share HER erotic fantasy with us. Bitch. Her boobs are already HUGELY. Pansy and Sexy hope the Portugese will cooperate with the photo sessions they are envisioning.
Some people make sick and twisted word association transitions and for them "airport" led to "landing strips" which led to "tattoos" which led to those "low back but really Ass Tattoos on women" which led to concluding Pansy wants Anal Sex? WTF? That's awful. Pansy is disgusted beyond measure because everyone KNOWS those tattoos are called "tramp stamps" NOT "landing strips." And besides, while "tramp stamps" are most often seen above women's asses Pansy has seen them above some men's asses. But she thinks maybe they were gay guys. So, All Not Gay Guys who have this low-back but really an Ass Tattoo: would you please let Pansy know if those tattoos are unisex? Pansy thinks they are supposed to be a Girl Tattoo. But what does she know?
And, no, Pansy is not suddenly all hotted up about anal sex. Because we all know that anal sex, except between consenting people, is AGAINST GOD'S WILL. We know this because those holy, screw-your-neighbor's-wife-while-cruising-the-gay-bathroom-in-the-park-scene-after-scoring-some-heroin-from-that-prostitute-who-will-let-you-NOT-use-a-condom, good, God-Fearing/Loving, Right Winged jerks have declared it so from their Sanctified Pulpits (man, Pansy is going to go to hell for that rant). And, anal sex is "germy" and IF there had ever been any such activities between the Pansys it always resulted in a "rash" or "bad reaction" to SOMEONE'S man part....IF that had ever happened.....IF!!!! Which, ALWAYS gets started in the first place between hopelessly white straight people ONLY BY ACCIDENTAL SLIPPAGE resulting in a squeal (of not delight) from the female and a squeal (of great delight) from the stupidass male perpetrator. And the accidental slippage was really only because of all those beers at that rodeo followed by too many tokes of "smoke" and we all know what "smoke" does to Pansy's libido. And anal sex is just not "all that and a bag of chips" except that the gay guys the Pansys know claim that it IS "all that and a bag of chips" because of the prostate being stimulated---so at last, finally, at Pansy's advanced and elderly age she has heard an explanation for anal sex.
And did you know that Men Are Liars? Yes, they are! Pansy is shocked by the trickery of Mr. Pansy over the years. I just learned something in the past few weeks that still has me all fumey hot and not in a good way of hot. That bastard I live with told me this: a male (not necessarily him, you know....this is a theoretical mainly unsexxxed male--like all you pricks out there reading this for instance) who has a pre-awakening largesse going on is not necessarily in the mood. Said largesse can merely be due to:
(1) a not-empty bladder pressing on
(2) prostate gland which does something--constrict or increase, not certain--to
(3) blood flow which results in
(4) largesse.
All these fucking years Mr. Pansy has let me think he has a condition that needs releasement. I even said (sometimes in baby talk) "poor thing, that must be painful" to which he would bravely grimace, nod and begrudgingly accept tender mercies thereto. From now on, German Nurse Pansy intends to efficiently catheterize those stupid largesses. hatehatehatehatehahahahahhahahaha. But then, not content to leave things alone, Pansy pressed (on what she hopes was a painfully full bladder) Mr. Pansy for more information. He claims that horny largesse and pee-filled bladder largesse do NOT feel different. Just one makes him need to pee before having the very necessary and desperately needed sex. Because if he doesn't get the sex he will explode and have blue balls and all that usual blah, blah, blah that men will say in order to score their Very Undeserved Extra Sex. Pansy hates that she is so easy.
However, Mr. Pansy tries. Years ago he suddenly asked out of nowhere "Do you need more cuddling after sex?" This was just "after". What in fuck is he doing waking me up? Good god. Hey, Pansy blacks out instantly upon achieving the "after" state. Do NOT be bothering her with stupid cuddling shit. And he'd better not be trying to act all "sensitive" by asking about my "needs" just to snag some cuddling for himself either. What I NEED is for him to get my rocks off. If he happens to get lucky himself along the way, more power to him.
At about the 10 day mark since Pansy's vision, the opportunity to Play Airport arose. Actually, it was Mr. Pansy's "opportunity" that arose. Pansy went for it. The landing was a little rough. No! Not with a collar/leash! And there was nothing shoved up anyone's butt either. And she does not recall when he peed. To be more precise, finesse will smooth off the rough edges. How's that saying go? Practice makes perfect? Which Mr. Pansy has indicated he is very willing to put up with said practice. Rough as it might be. Shut up! Pansy does not mean "rough".
Fine. Okay. Pansy will tell you exactly what the vision was about: it's exactly what YOU have been wanting to do/have done to you but for whatever reasons the partner involved just would not go along with it. The difference between "Let's Play Airport" and whatever you are desiring is only in the DETAILS specific to you and your situation. So, give it another try with your partner. Ya never know. Again Pansy is forced to say "what the hell was I holding out for all this time?" Mr. Pansy had nothing to say after we played "Airport". He had blacked out. ~smiles~
Pansy calls it "Let's Play Airport". Yes, the Pansys are still finding yet more Hot Nasty things to do with each other that they have never done with each other or anyone else. If one were a RUDE reader of this report, one might be inclined to try imagining what "Let's Play Airport" involves. Well, it does NOT involve: Anything other than something so mundane as it would EMBARRASS the Pansy to reveal the details/rules of "Let's Play Airport". Unfortunately, Pansy, who likes to think she is not stupid, stupidly revealed the details/rules of "Let's Play Airport" to that horndog, Mr. Pansy. He has been all over her about the prospects ever since.
A week later Pansy is at lunch with the Portugese Washer Woman and Sexy Mexican. During this lunch Sexy says her husband got all weird on her about her latest thoughts: she would like to get a collar/leash setup. For her neck, not his. That Sexy! hahahahhahaha! Who knew? But her husband is all like "But how would I know what to do? What if I pull it too tight?" Uh, I think that part about Sexy yelling at him "You are choking me"--wouldn't that be a clue? And then Portugese says she and hubby have finally decided that they aren't destined to have another child (they have one 14 year old and have been trying) and went to appointments for a vasectomy. But first the doctor says they must test Portugese for pregnancy and the damn whore is PREGNANT! Right this very now! So, Sexy and Pansy burst into a bit of teariness at the restaurant at this great news just when 17 year old pimple-boy server comes by to see if everything is okay. Pansy wails "I'm just fine, can't you tell?" He says "I think I will just go away from this for now." hahahhaha. Of course, we must then hug each other. Can we help it if our hands slipped and found Sexy's third nipple (it's on the right side by the way) and it simply happened that we gave Portugese a bit of a pelvic exam. After the restaurant manager kicked us out we went shopping for baby shower stuff and Mother's Day stuff and all kinds of The Damn Whore Portugese Is Pregnant stuff. With periodic outbursts of teariness from Sexy and Pansy in the various stores. And that Damn Portugese Tease....she did not share HER erotic fantasy with us. Bitch. Her boobs are already HUGELY. Pansy and Sexy hope the Portugese will cooperate with the photo sessions they are envisioning.
Some people make sick and twisted word association transitions and for them "airport" led to "landing strips" which led to "tattoos" which led to those "low back but really Ass Tattoos on women" which led to concluding Pansy wants Anal Sex? WTF? That's awful. Pansy is disgusted beyond measure because everyone KNOWS those tattoos are called "tramp stamps" NOT "landing strips." And besides, while "tramp stamps" are most often seen above women's asses Pansy has seen them above some men's asses. But she thinks maybe they were gay guys. So, All Not Gay Guys who have this low-back but really an Ass Tattoo: would you please let Pansy know if those tattoos are unisex? Pansy thinks they are supposed to be a Girl Tattoo. But what does she know?
And, no, Pansy is not suddenly all hotted up about anal sex. Because we all know that anal sex, except between consenting people, is AGAINST GOD'S WILL. We know this because those holy, screw-your-neighbor's-wife-while-cruising-the-gay-bathroom-in-the-park-scene-after-scoring-some-heroin-from-that-prostitute-who-will-let-you-NOT-use-a-condom, good, God-Fearing/Loving, Right Winged jerks have declared it so from their Sanctified Pulpits (man, Pansy is going to go to hell for that rant). And, anal sex is "germy" and IF there had ever been any such activities between the Pansys it always resulted in a "rash" or "bad reaction" to SOMEONE'S man part....IF that had ever happened.....IF!!!! Which, ALWAYS gets started in the first place between hopelessly white straight people ONLY BY ACCIDENTAL SLIPPAGE resulting in a squeal (of not delight) from the female and a squeal (of great delight) from the stupidass male perpetrator. And the accidental slippage was really only because of all those beers at that rodeo followed by too many tokes of "smoke" and we all know what "smoke" does to Pansy's libido. And anal sex is just not "all that and a bag of chips" except that the gay guys the Pansys know claim that it IS "all that and a bag of chips" because of the prostate being stimulated---so at last, finally, at Pansy's advanced and elderly age she has heard an explanation for anal sex.
And did you know that Men Are Liars? Yes, they are! Pansy is shocked by the trickery of Mr. Pansy over the years. I just learned something in the past few weeks that still has me all fumey hot and not in a good way of hot. That bastard I live with told me this: a male (not necessarily him, you know....this is a theoretical mainly unsexxxed male--like all you pricks out there reading this for instance) who has a pre-awakening largesse going on is not necessarily in the mood. Said largesse can merely be due to:
(1) a not-empty bladder pressing on
(2) prostate gland which does something--constrict or increase, not certain--to
(3) blood flow which results in
(4) largesse.
All these fucking years Mr. Pansy has let me think he has a condition that needs releasement. I even said (sometimes in baby talk) "poor thing, that must be painful" to which he would bravely grimace, nod and begrudgingly accept tender mercies thereto. From now on, German Nurse Pansy intends to efficiently catheterize those stupid largesses. hatehatehatehatehahahahahhahahaha. But then, not content to leave things alone, Pansy pressed (on what she hopes was a painfully full bladder) Mr. Pansy for more information. He claims that horny largesse and pee-filled bladder largesse do NOT feel different. Just one makes him need to pee before having the very necessary and desperately needed sex. Because if he doesn't get the sex he will explode and have blue balls and all that usual blah, blah, blah that men will say in order to score their Very Undeserved Extra Sex. Pansy hates that she is so easy.
However, Mr. Pansy tries. Years ago he suddenly asked out of nowhere "Do you need more cuddling after sex?" This was just "after". What in fuck is he doing waking me up? Good god. Hey, Pansy blacks out instantly upon achieving the "after" state. Do NOT be bothering her with stupid cuddling shit. And he'd better not be trying to act all "sensitive" by asking about my "needs" just to snag some cuddling for himself either. What I NEED is for him to get my rocks off. If he happens to get lucky himself along the way, more power to him.
At about the 10 day mark since Pansy's vision, the opportunity to Play Airport arose. Actually, it was Mr. Pansy's "opportunity" that arose. Pansy went for it. The landing was a little rough. No! Not with a collar/leash! And there was nothing shoved up anyone's butt either. And she does not recall when he peed. To be more precise, finesse will smooth off the rough edges. How's that saying go? Practice makes perfect? Which Mr. Pansy has indicated he is very willing to put up with said practice. Rough as it might be. Shut up! Pansy does not mean "rough".
Fine. Okay. Pansy will tell you exactly what the vision was about: it's exactly what YOU have been wanting to do/have done to you but for whatever reasons the partner involved just would not go along with it. The difference between "Let's Play Airport" and whatever you are desiring is only in the DETAILS specific to you and your situation. So, give it another try with your partner. Ya never know. Again Pansy is forced to say "what the hell was I holding out for all this time?" Mr. Pansy had nothing to say after we played "Airport". He had blacked out. ~smiles~
Friday, May 2, 2008
WHO'S UP FOR SOME HELL RAISING?
Watch out. I have been in a real mood the last couple weeks.
I am not going to go to Hell. Except for that part about I AM going to Hell on a one-way speeding bullet. Hell, I am already in the line for getting into Hell and I can see the velvet ropes. The last time the bouncer demons opened up the Gates Of Hell they spotted me and I heard one of them yell: “Oh, Fuck! Satan! Pansy is out there and when SHE gets in Hell it’ll fill the whole fucking place up. Godammit.” Now, I know with some of you out there, well, we’re going to have to fight over who actually gets to go into Hell first. I know it will be me because I am elderly and feeble and you’ll cheat and fake me out and pull some trick hot jukey moves on me, which will make me stumble and plunge headfirst into the inferno. Don’t worry. I’ll keep the light on for ya!
But, wait a minute. Didn’t I say up there something about I ain’t going to Hell? Yep. Because I am “saved”. Yes, I are too! And because I am not totally stupid, I will agree that merely having been born hopelessly white in the United States Of America By God in whom we trust just about automatically guaranteed I would be raised, or at least exposed to, Christian teachings. No, not the Catholic priest kind of exposure! I will always have great and wonderful memories of Easter Morning sunrise services on the beach of the Texas Gulf Coast. I went to church every week until my senior year in high school. But I never really “got” religion. I still don’t got religion. I am just saved.
When I started a new job and met my Very Most Christian Friend who, upon first spying me, said “Would you like to go to a Bible study class at lunch?” I should have suspected something. I went and and my hands magically knew where to find any and all Bible verses we studied. I remembered all the names of the Bible people. My gracefulness was amazing.
Years earlier I had exorcised my childhood through secular counseling. But I had never grappled with or resolved the issue of “forgiveness” of those who had wronged me. I knew I had made a life-altering decision in that first lunch hour Bible study. Still, it took over a year but one day I realized I could and wanted to forgive. In person. So I did. I had to literally pull over halfway through the drive to pray for strength and for the words I wanted to say.
My thoughts are that one’s God/Higher Power is the best father/parent a person could ever hope to have. A father who forgives and forgets every bad thing you have ever done. You are made new and all the old is gone. Literally gone. Never happened! If God (Christian) can forgive a wretch like Paul (the apostle) and murderers and even ME, PANSY…………how can I not likewise forgive another person’s terribleness? Not to God’s level of forgiveness. But me thinking that someone else’s sins are unforgiveable due to them being unworthy of forgiveness is the height of arrogance. Yes, arrogance.
After all, what makes MY sins so special as to warrant God’s forgiveness? Aren’t I just as despicable and unworthy? And because MY sins are forgiveable, everyone’s sins are forgiveable. For humans (at least me, anyway) to be able to forgive does require the Hand of God, however. And there have been and always will be many a moment when I want to retract/take back my forgiveness. Or at the very least, I feel angry and unforgiving. But, luckily, just like accepting Jesus into my heart , I cannot unforgive. My angry thoughts/feelings do not undo my forgiveness. They are just my human feelings.
It took me becoming a parent to find the courage and then 2 years and 10 months of scorched earth counseling to begin the real and final healing. I could not do it for my unworthy self but by God I could and would and did do it for my children. And, yes, things did get extremely way worse before they got better during the counseling. But everyone involved did not go running off a cliff (though if some had, good riddance), the world did not come to an end. What happened was: the world got refracted through the prism of truth.
It took many more years to want to extend my forgiveness. And certainly only after those lunchtime Bible studies helped me to seriously ask Jesus into my heart. I don’t pretend to understand “correct theology” but I also don’t worry about it a lot. I grasp the basic concepts and I am happy to leave the details to God to sort out. Oh, dear. That sounds like some military bumper sticker slogan! Hahahhahahahha!
I don’t know how or even if prayer works but it is a good way to give something over to God. What I am sure of is that literally lifting my burdens up to God works completely for me. I actually feel my muscles pushing stuff up there. I don’t pray for a specific outcome or result. I agree to accept that what happens will be okay. And then I step off into the abyss. So far, so good.
I am just glad so much of my spiritual work got started/done before cancer. I hate to think what a mess I would be if that groundwork had not already happened. The best part is, I lost my “scorn”. Scorn is a very powerful and destructive thing. My best example of lost scorn is this:
There is a bumper sticker that says “Christians are not perfect; just forgiven.” I used to really sneer at that. When I changed sides, so to speak, I realized that phrase says it all. I will continue to sin. I will never be perfect. But I know God is working on me even if it is really starting to piss Him off.
When my counseling concluded I had the epiphany of “I can die now” because I realized I was now through the fires of counseling and confrontation, etc. And believe you me, them fires was as hot as anything that sissy-ass Hell has to offer. I even found a fine sweater with “1986” knitted into it. Obviously made just for me by some slave labor factory child in China via JC Penney. I bought the sweater so that I would never forget that 1986 was when I moved on. As if it could remotely slip my mind!
Sorry (not) if I’ve exploded a few Christian heads here. But that’s just a party bonus! Hahahahhahaha!
NOTE TO SELF: Don’t ever say “I can die now” again. Hahahahahhahha!
I WARNED YOU I HAVE BEEN IN A MOOD OVER HERE.
I am not going to go to Hell. Except for that part about I AM going to Hell on a one-way speeding bullet. Hell, I am already in the line for getting into Hell and I can see the velvet ropes. The last time the bouncer demons opened up the Gates Of Hell they spotted me and I heard one of them yell: “Oh, Fuck! Satan! Pansy is out there and when SHE gets in Hell it’ll fill the whole fucking place up. Godammit.” Now, I know with some of you out there, well, we’re going to have to fight over who actually gets to go into Hell first. I know it will be me because I am elderly and feeble and you’ll cheat and fake me out and pull some trick hot jukey moves on me, which will make me stumble and plunge headfirst into the inferno. Don’t worry. I’ll keep the light on for ya!
But, wait a minute. Didn’t I say up there something about I ain’t going to Hell? Yep. Because I am “saved”. Yes, I are too! And because I am not totally stupid, I will agree that merely having been born hopelessly white in the United States Of America By God in whom we trust just about automatically guaranteed I would be raised, or at least exposed to, Christian teachings. No, not the Catholic priest kind of exposure! I will always have great and wonderful memories of Easter Morning sunrise services on the beach of the Texas Gulf Coast. I went to church every week until my senior year in high school. But I never really “got” religion. I still don’t got religion. I am just saved.
When I started a new job and met my Very Most Christian Friend who, upon first spying me, said “Would you like to go to a Bible study class at lunch?” I should have suspected something. I went and and my hands magically knew where to find any and all Bible verses we studied. I remembered all the names of the Bible people. My gracefulness was amazing.
Years earlier I had exorcised my childhood through secular counseling. But I had never grappled with or resolved the issue of “forgiveness” of those who had wronged me. I knew I had made a life-altering decision in that first lunch hour Bible study. Still, it took over a year but one day I realized I could and wanted to forgive. In person. So I did. I had to literally pull over halfway through the drive to pray for strength and for the words I wanted to say.
My thoughts are that one’s God/Higher Power is the best father/parent a person could ever hope to have. A father who forgives and forgets every bad thing you have ever done. You are made new and all the old is gone. Literally gone. Never happened! If God (Christian) can forgive a wretch like Paul (the apostle) and murderers and even ME, PANSY…………how can I not likewise forgive another person’s terribleness? Not to God’s level of forgiveness. But me thinking that someone else’s sins are unforgiveable due to them being unworthy of forgiveness is the height of arrogance. Yes, arrogance.
After all, what makes MY sins so special as to warrant God’s forgiveness? Aren’t I just as despicable and unworthy? And because MY sins are forgiveable, everyone’s sins are forgiveable. For humans (at least me, anyway) to be able to forgive does require the Hand of God, however. And there have been and always will be many a moment when I want to retract/take back my forgiveness. Or at the very least, I feel angry and unforgiving. But, luckily, just like accepting Jesus into my heart , I cannot unforgive. My angry thoughts/feelings do not undo my forgiveness. They are just my human feelings.
It took me becoming a parent to find the courage and then 2 years and 10 months of scorched earth counseling to begin the real and final healing. I could not do it for my unworthy self but by God I could and would and did do it for my children. And, yes, things did get extremely way worse before they got better during the counseling. But everyone involved did not go running off a cliff (though if some had, good riddance), the world did not come to an end. What happened was: the world got refracted through the prism of truth.
It took many more years to want to extend my forgiveness. And certainly only after those lunchtime Bible studies helped me to seriously ask Jesus into my heart. I don’t pretend to understand “correct theology” but I also don’t worry about it a lot. I grasp the basic concepts and I am happy to leave the details to God to sort out. Oh, dear. That sounds like some military bumper sticker slogan! Hahahhahahahha!
I don’t know how or even if prayer works but it is a good way to give something over to God. What I am sure of is that literally lifting my burdens up to God works completely for me. I actually feel my muscles pushing stuff up there. I don’t pray for a specific outcome or result. I agree to accept that what happens will be okay. And then I step off into the abyss. So far, so good.
I am just glad so much of my spiritual work got started/done before cancer. I hate to think what a mess I would be if that groundwork had not already happened. The best part is, I lost my “scorn”. Scorn is a very powerful and destructive thing. My best example of lost scorn is this:
There is a bumper sticker that says “Christians are not perfect; just forgiven.” I used to really sneer at that. When I changed sides, so to speak, I realized that phrase says it all. I will continue to sin. I will never be perfect. But I know God is working on me even if it is really starting to piss Him off.
When my counseling concluded I had the epiphany of “I can die now” because I realized I was now through the fires of counseling and confrontation, etc. And believe you me, them fires was as hot as anything that sissy-ass Hell has to offer. I even found a fine sweater with “1986” knitted into it. Obviously made just for me by some slave labor factory child in China via JC Penney. I bought the sweater so that I would never forget that 1986 was when I moved on. As if it could remotely slip my mind!
Sorry (not) if I’ve exploded a few Christian heads here. But that’s just a party bonus! Hahahahhahaha!
NOTE TO SELF: Don’t ever say “I can die now” again. Hahahahahhahha!
I WARNED YOU I HAVE BEEN IN A MOOD OVER HERE.
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