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mysterierants · 3 years

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Dating Apps... We all know how they can suck.

Yes, I've tried them. No, I haven't gotten anywhere. Yes, I've tried just chatting with people face-to-face.

I've come to the realization that for people like me, those apps, sites, and other attempts at dating just aren't worth it. What kind of people, you ask? The kind that are shy, socially awkward, don't know how to flirt or start a conversation, etc. We aren't the kind of people that are strictly in it for the sex. Sexual acts or intercourse really isn't something we're into; it just doesn't get us "going". That said, going on a date or meeting at a social event is something that's more our speed. We're more of the "old fashioned" type. The type that are more interested in a long term, romantic relationship that has substance.

I can't tell you how many times I've been hit up, on dating apps mostly, for nudes, one night stands, or for being "fuck buddies". To me, that whole concept doesn't make sense nor does it seem useful. I mean, I understand the core ideology of the concept. It's the concept of only knowing each other and meeting up for sex; nothing else. The 'why' doesn't make sense to me. Are you a nymphomaniac or something?

Unfortunately, with modern dating, its customary to have sex after a period of time. To me, that period of time should be determined when both parties are ready to partake; not just one. One side pressuring the other to have sex isn't acceptable, in my mind; it shouldn't be for you either.

Now that, that explanation and ideology is out of the way, I can get on with this rant. YAY!

One app that I've been drawn to, for some ungodly reason, is called Chat & Date. It allows you to find people whether you're there for a hookup or just there for a decent conversation or anything in between. Turns out, there's a few features that you have to pay for, after a while. Nah, I'm not going to pay from them. I'm too cheap.

Are there some guys on there that pique my interest or that I find attractive? Yes. I've tried talking to them and after wasting a bit of time, they ask for sex, nudes, or both. It fucking sucks. If it weren't for the last casual conversation that's going on, I'd just delete my profile and the app; I'm that done with it. I've just had it with the "Oh you won't sleep with me? K byeee!" stuff. What happened to good old fashioned romance?

It's not much of a secret that in the summer of 2016, I had a major medical crisis. However, it is a bit of an unknown fact that I've suffered from Medication Resistant Epilepsy ever since. Life and cardiac arrests can bite you in the ass REALLY hard, too. So yes, Karma is real and she's an absolute bitch. I also suffer from the side effects of the medications that previous neurologists have put me on, but that's besides the point.

I've gone through several seizure studies and have to go through at least one more before they decide what part of my brain is the best to have surgery on. I'm so done with all the seizures, injuries from the seizures, meds, pity, and hospital stays that I'm completely game for surgery no matter how dangerous. At this point, death even sounds like an option.

Why? I've been having at least one Grand Mal seizure, a month, for 4 years now; they're getting worse and longer, too. These bitches need to go.

Now that you know this, you're probably asking where the dating comes into play.

It's not a "final wish" or anything. No. It's a support thing. The entire time I've been fighting Epilepsy, I've had to be the strong one. The shoulder to cry on. The one constant in people's lives. It's finally wearing me down to the point of no return. The last guy that let me lean on him, for support, left me when I was in the hospital, the third time, durning summer 2016. That was a low blow, asshat.

It would be nice, no, comforting to have someone to lean on and love (romantically). Someone that I can talk to without having to watch what I say, but hopefully not share the stress. I hope they could relieve some of the stress, too. Yeah, okay, I do have friends and family that I could talk to, but I have to watch what I say; I have to keep quite a few things from them. It gets frustrating, actually.

That's some of the reason I made this blog.

Trying to find a decent guy, that's around my age, has become frustrating as well. Yeah, on these apps, plenty of guys have "okayed" me or flirted. It mostly seems like they do this because of my looks. Not cool, dude. There's a couple of key qualifications that makes them get turned down, and this is going to sound racist but isn't meant to be. Ya ready? Well, we're going anyway:

1. Age. I'll admit that I do say age doesn't really matter; its personality that does. I mean that with predominantly friends. I mean, at the time that I'm writing this, I'm 25. I'm not going to be into dudes that are 40-60 years old. I mean seriously, what the fuck.

2. Color. This is the one that I said may sound racist, but really isn't meant to be. In any other context, like friends, I don't give a flyin' flippity fuck what you look like. All that matters is your personality. But when it comes to dating, I prefer white dudes that have even the slightest bit of tan. This can potentially come back and bite me in the ass, too, cause I am part Native American; just not as dark most of the time.

3. Looks. Yeah okay, I'm not much for the superficial junk, but I've noticed that this does have a slight bit to do with it. I think it's mainly 'cause it helps me figure out their personality and how they truly are. You may be curious about how this helps exactly, but that will be talked about later.

4. Speech. Wait, wha-? Yes, word usage, speed, and how they speak does matter to me. It not only tells me their amount and type of intelligence, but also helps with personality. Speech also helps me learn what some of their priorities are. This has helped me to decipher whether or not the guy is just talking to me for the sole purpose of getting me into bed or for legitimately getting to know me. It has saved me from inadvertently getting into trouble, too.

5. Swagger. Like the slang, right? No. I'm talking how a guy carries himself (walks), talks, dresses, and stands. When I say this, I'm not talking 007 or Tom Hiddleston swagger. Nor am I talking about how fat his wallet is. A dirt poor man can have that absolutely sexy swagger. It's more of a mindset and the amount of respect he gives others. Well, I guess Tom does count. You get my point, though.

I'm probably missing a thing or two, but these pretty well cover it. Out of 'em, I couldn't tell you which matters most, though.

These are some things that people can fake on dating apps. Chicks are notorious for this; they give the rest of us a horrid name. I hate it. The guys can also act all 'big 'n' bad' behind a screen and make you think they're totally badass and sexy. Then you meet them in person and... BOOM! Less funny Don Knotts with tiny metaphorical balls. I've met some guys that have smaller balls than I do and I'm a chick! The hell?! You remember the speech and swagger I was talking about? Yeah, that's where this comes into play.

Anyway, this pretty well concludes my rant about dating apps.

Welp, see ya next rant! Bye my lovelies. 💜

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amandacarleton · 5 years

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My Journey of Faith and Self-Discovery

I don’t exactly know where to begin, so I guess the beginning is probably the best place to start. When I was young (4 or 5 maybe?) my mom and I went to church, but stopped going a few years later. I started going to church again the summer before my freshman year in high school. My friend, Annie, invited me to go with her and so I did. I started going regularly and getting really involved. I went to church on Sundays and youth group on Wednesdays. I went to a youth bible study. I eventually joined the worship team and became a youth leader. I got more and more involved, “committed” as I would’ve put it. Youth group and church were non-negotiables. I bought into and abided by all of the rules.

I’m a rule-follower at heart, so give me some rules and I’ll follow them. But if I broke one, dare say I watched an R-rated movie or made out with a boy (because hormones and he’s cute 🤷🏻‍♀️), I confessed it to my youth pastors because that’s what you did/had to do to be absolved of the guilt (that church culture creates, but I digress.) But those “sinful” incidents were few and far between; most of the time I didn’t even think about watching R-rated movies or swearing or drinking. (I did think about making out with boys because I was a teenage girl, duh.) I believed what I was told. I trusted my youth pastors, pastors, and leaders. I followed the rules. I toed the line.

This lasted 10 years. Through high school and into adulthood. Through singleness, dating Brandon, and getting married. A lot happens in 10 years. But one thing that didn’t really change (or change much) was my mindset on what being a Christian, a “good” Christian, entailed. Church was my life; it was all-consuming. I became more and more entrenched. And towards the end of those 10 years, I was exhausted, burnt out. I was working a full-time job. Brandon and I were newly married, and we were at the church building easily 4-5 days and/or nights of the week. We were essentially working two full-time jobs (one paid, one as volunteers). It was soul-sucking.

I remember the one-day-at-a-time-ness of it. We’d wake up, work, do churchy things, and fall into bed at night thinking, “Welp, we made it. Now to sleep and then wake up and more or less do it all over again.” I don’t remember where I heard it or who said it, but this saying stuck with me: “Jesus died for the church; you don’t have to, too.” Yet, here I was (we were) running myself (ourselves) ragged and fully being taken advantage of. Boundaries didn’t exist; they were inconvenient. And I wasn’t self-aware or self-confident enough to know that I could say “no”.

See, my value was so wrapped up in what I did and how much I was contributing. As a perfectionist, I understood that and bought in without question. Maybe I was naive. Maybe I was too-trusting. No one around me said, “Maybe you should take some time to rest; this seems unhealthy and unsustainable.” And I didn’t even think to ask for time to breathe so I could enjoy life again.

Brandon and I had been married about a year and we were both burnt out. We were both doing so much: youth group leaders, running the college group, worship team members, Brandon and I worked in the cafe making coffee drinks before service, and I led the “tween ministry” (5-8 grades). We were in church (the building) a lot, but we were rarely in church (the service/a part of the community). Brandon floated the idea of leaving one day and I wasn’t super receptive. Change is hard for me, even leaving sucky situations that I don’t like (because what if what’s next is worse?!). But I think I knew deep down that it was the right thing to do. And “stepping back” or “taking a break” wasn’t an option; we knew we sucked at saying “no” and would just get pulled back in.

So we decided to leave. It was a really difficult decision. Leaving felt like a really nasty divorce. I had spent my formative years there. So much of my identity was wrapped up in my churchy titles and roles; I really didn’t know who I was without it all. And it became more and more apparent that the people I looked up to and trusted believed my worth and value was in how useful I was to them and how much I served.

I’m sure that was always right underneath the surface, I just couldn’t see it. My proximity to them and position, which I viewed as a great honor and privilege, were because I was willing to do and listen and follow and obey without question. Leaving knocked the rose-colored glasses off of my face. It took time, but I began to see things, so many things, in a different way. And it caused me to second-guess and ask a lot of questions. I’d heard it so many times as a teenager and as an adult. Hell, I’ve probably even said it. “You have to make your faith your own; there are no 2nd-generation Christians.” And I believed that I’d done that. But I hadn’t, not even close. I had literally taken what my youth pastors (mainly, as I interacted with them most) told me was right and just believed the same thing. My thought process was all of, “Well, they said it so it’s obviously true, so that’s my belief/stance on that.”

When we left the church we’d been so heavily involved with and in which so much of our sense of self, our identity, was wrapped up in, the doubts and questions started to arise. I felt like the youth pastors at the church didn’t have our best interests at heart (although I don’t think they were consciously making decisions to hurt us), and I trusted and believed in them so what else wasn’t as it seemed? I, in a way, wiped the slate clean of my beliefs, as much as I could of course, and evaluated them almost as if for the first time. Why did I believe what I believed? What did I even believe; did I know?

I realized I had become this person that I didn’t really like; I apologized to a couple friends for being a bad friend because I was so consumed with being a “good leader” (which I now don’t think is possible, to be a good leader and a bad friend, I mean). I started reading books and listening to podcasts by people who were blacklisted by many pastors I knew. And I had a lot of conversations with Brandon as he was going on a similar journey and was a bit ahead of me (and still is, I feel). My approach was and has always been “whatever is true is true” so if I “get rid of” a belief that’s true, I will find my way back to it after my searching and discovery. But this approach isn’t really championed or even encouraged.

Luckily, I haven’t had too many messages from “concerned” pastors and Christian friends who are worried about me, but maybe this blog post will cause me to receive more. Many Christians get nervous and uncomfortable when someone believes something unorthodox; I’ll admit I did. I’ve been there on the other side feeling like I’m watching someone make bad decisions, changing their beliefs, but my sadness was coated in a thick layer condescension. I had it all figured out until I didn’t. I was told that I needed to make my faith my own, but when I actually did that I was met with a lot of “Well, not like that.” I was told that I needed to make my faith my own, but what that meant was to end up at the same conclusions as my pastors and youth pastors did and have the same beliefs as everyone else in church. And surprisingly, my rule-following, line-toeing self wasn’t having it.

I had been on this journey and had uncovered so many new, beautiful, healthy, and healing things. Sure, there were still some things I believed that were the same as before, but I also believed some different things as well. And I’d discovered so much about myself in the process. I realized I was acting; I was who I thought I was supposed to be, playing a role, and I hadn’t even known I wasn’t actually that person. I’m way more introverted than I thought. I’m compassionate and I feel things deeply, so many things. I love to read. I enjoy intellectual, philosophical, and theological conversations. I’m really into the news. And I’m better at self-care now. I’m still a perfectionist. I’m still funny; I still love to laugh. I’m still me. But I’m a me-er me.

I definitely don’t write all of this to say that I’ve gone on this journey of deconstructing and reconstructing my faith and now I have everything all figured out. This isn’t about right and wrong beliefs or who’s in and who’s out; it’s not about keeping score at all. I also don’t write all of this to place blame. I have taken time to heal, forgive, grow, and discover. And I’ve come to realize that the dysfunction I’ve experienced is indicative of Western Church culture, especially in the U.S.; the more I share my story, the more I find that others have similar experiences. I write this to say I’m in a healthier (for me) place than I was 5 years ago. I’m an adult and have a pretty solid intuition. I’ve learned to listen to myself and trust myself. I’ve been through hard things, but they’ve helped shape me like the Colorado River shaped the Grand Canyon. It was a process that was difficult and took time, but the results are beautiful.

Mary Oliver wrote in her poem “The Uses of Sorrow”:

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.

This has been the story of one of my boxes of darkness, which I’ve come to see as a gift. I’ve come to know disappointment, suffering, grief, and all shades of darkness are parts of life. We are all on our own journeys. We all have boxes of darkness, some we’ve been given and some we’ve found on our own. I think we should allow people to go on their own journey, to be in process as we all are, without judgment.

We might not understand or agree, but we can still support and love one another along the way. And if big feelings come up about someone else’s journey, may we stop and ask ourselves why before chastising them, questioning their actions, or sending a condescending message. May we remember that the darkness we see in our own life and the “darkness” we perceive in someone else’s life are gifts. Without them we would not be the people we are.

#religion #christianity #church #burnout #journey #deconstruction #reconstruction #faith #self discovery

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connectionqc · 5 years

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My Journey of Faith and Self-Discovery

I definitely don’t write all of this to say that I’ve gone on this journey of deconstructing and reconstructing my faith and now I have everything all figured out. This isn’t about right and wrong beliefs or who’s in and who’s out; it’s not about keeping score at all. I also don’t write all of this to place blame. I have taken time to heal, forgive, grow, and discover. And I’ve come to realize that the disfunction I’ve experienced is indicative of Western Church culture, especially in the U.S.; the more I share my story, the more I find that others have similar experiences. I write this to say I’m in a healthier (for me) place than I was 5 years ago. I’m an adult and have a pretty solid intuition. I’ve learned to listen to myself and trust myself. I’ve been through hard things, but they’ve helped shape me like the Colorado River shaped the Grand Canyon. It was a process that was difficult and took time, but the results are beautiful.

Mary Oliver wrote in her poem “The Uses of Sorrow”:

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.

- Amanda

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