Done with the Executive Chef - So Can I REALLY Be Done with Men for Awhile?

A lot of people tell me they're worried about me. My sponsor in alcohol recovery doesn't; she doesn't buy into the drama. She's also a mindfulness practitioner, highly spiritual, and extremely intelligent, having almost completed a Master's degree in Psychology with an emphasis on Borderline Personality Disorder.

Other people though, they get scared I'll actually kill myself. I'll tell you right now; that's never gonna happen. I've had periods where I've legitimately wanted to cease to exist more than anything on Earth, but God didn't take me, presumably because I have a six year-old son left to half-raise. His dad is dying of congestive heart failure, so pretty soon that responsibility will fall fully on me.

But yeah, I need to stay away from guys. It's the common theme of the past over-four years since I left my husband of ten years (my son's dad). (We were together ten years and only married for the last three of those, but fuck technicalities.)

(And actually, we're still married. He does have life insurance, so I'm glad I never pushed the divorce through...)

Anyway, I just got out of yet another relationship, this time with my boss. Did I really fall in love wth him? I don't know. Am I capable of loving anyone, even myself? I don't know. Did I take his power away because he was a colossal dick at work and I had to neutralize him somehow? Damn right.

But did he try to cheat on me twice to my knowledge, stay a night in jail for a DUI, drink heavily every night, sneak around outside of work and not tell me where he was going or what he was doing, and make up stories and lies that he couldn't even keep straight? Yeah. Did he want to live in my apartment rent-and-bill-free so he could support his drinking and his smoking weed? Yeah. Did he offer my six year-old son a beer as well as provide a TERRIBLE human example to a kid who's like a sponge and started imitating him, cussing, while also telling me, "Mom, I don't like Bernard. Break up with him. I don't trust him"? Fuck, yes.

So I finally did it. I had tried a few times before; back in October when I found out about the cheating attempts through text messages on his phone between him and one of the waitresses at work, and he was pissed at me for going through his phone but he had all ready been lying to me (and it takes one to know one), I said, "You know, if you're gonna try to cheat on someone you should probably lock your phone." We had a big fight which culminated in our first "I love you"s and we didn't break up - in fact I thought it brought us closer.

But then recently he has been exhibiting the same behavior - lying about where he is outside of work (we work together but don't have the same schedule) - and I found out he had locked his phone, because one night when he was drunk he was trying to get into it, and couldn't remember his own damn password. That, and he and his buddies were talking about the other day that he hung out with them, "But don't tell Adora!" Bernard said. He didn't know I heard.

So I was just finally done.

Okay, lesson learned this time? Who fucking knows. I had been keeping the piercing fetish guy updated throughout my relationship, so when he found out about my breakup, he wanted to come over last night. I forget the fictitious name I gave him but you can check the column on the left. Vicente or something, I don't fucking know.

Before he came over, when he asked if he could, I said, "Sure, but I'm not fucking you, and no needles."

Goddamnit. We did fuck.

So what's next? Today I'm going to church, going to go see my son, and tomorrow I have to go back to work at the restaurant, although I don't have to work with Bernard until Tuesday. I informed the restauranteur of the break-up; he was worried I was going to quit and desperately texted me, "You can't quit! I choose you over Bernard! Please don't quit!" Because, again, Executive Chef Bernard is a colossal dick (even though he has a tiny one) and no one can actually stand him. I wanted to see through all of that into his precious human heart - and I did, briefly. Mostly I was swept away by his culinary skills - but you know what? 

I've lost my appetite.

I'm back...

After not one, but two other blogs that I've started using my real name, I've cracked under the anxiety of people knowing what I'm thinking and doing, and I'm back here, safe under my little pseudonym.

I'm going to copy those posts from those other blogs and add them here, keeping their post dates. So...here goes...

"No Labels...just Life" blog: Turning It Over

I guess I just needed to vent with my last post and rehash everything. None of it really matters. Today I should be doing laundry - I've had laundry finished in the washing machine for hours while I go back and edit and re-edit that last post obsessively...and I've realized I got myself stuck.

I need to finish the laundry. I need to do the dishes. I need to get on my knees and pray to God and trust Him to work everything out, one day at a time. I need to work towards my future goals but not expect everything to change over night.

I texted my son's dad yesterday letting him know I had the day off and that I wanted to come down and see Louie for the afternoon. But hours later he finally replied that he had plans with Louie that he didn't want to cancel.

Legally, I still have majority custody. I'm supposed to have Louie during the week, and his dad is supposed to have weekends.

In reality, I see my son on Sundays. Then on my other night off during the week, I've been wanting to spend the afternoon with Louie, but his dad won't "let" me.

Instead of letting all this get me down, I have to just turn it over to God and do the next indicated thing. Laundry, dishes, clean the apartment, get ready for work. Be grateful for my job. Be grateful my son is healthy, happy and alive. He wants to see me more - all three of us this past Sunday talked about how great it would be for me to come see him during the week...but then that day came, and his dad had "plans".

Honestly, I'm suspicious that his dad was drinking or on drugs. I'm supposed to be making him get random drug tests once a month, and I'm supposed to make him get breathalyzed every time I pick Louie up and drop Louie off. I haven't been holding him accountable.

I've still just been in survival mode myself.

I feel like a horrible mother.

But...okay....again....this is where I turn to God.

God, help me. My Creator, I am now willing that You should have all of me, good and bad. I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to you and your fellows. Grant me strength as I go out from here to do Your bidding. Amen.

Most people wouldn't put this stuff online, and I know I'm risking judgment. But I'm okay with that. It helps me more than it hurts me. People used to write letters, keep journals. Me, I just don't want to be alone with it all, even if I don't know who's reading it.

"No Labels...just Life" blog: Moving Forward as a Multipotentialite (Finally, a Label I Like)

Sure, being in bed is great, but it's not really where I want to be (I have today off from my close-to-minimum wage job where, thank God, I am employed over 40 hours, although that's still barely surviving in California). The thing that's been on my mind constantly lately is, "I should be making more money...but how?"

After a childhood of abuse and poverty, a ten-year marriage (and baby) with a guy who had lots of Indian tribal gaming income but who was an abusive alcoholic/addict, and three years of post-separation "trying to find myself" (I did find myself in the rooms of a recovery program that gave me new wings), I was still "failing" at life last year. I was a full-time single mom trying to make a living at multiple jobs in various disciplines while still trying to get a degree...and also trying to land another guy...but...after a string of failed relationships and one-night stands, jobs where I was being paid below my worth, an inability to make a decision regarding my academics, all while trying to co-parent with the first love of my life who just couldn't "get his shit together" (either) - the shit, for me, hit the fan, and I fell into a suicidal depression.

My best friend had killed herself a year prior after she and I had made a "no-more-men" pact together (we were on day 42 when she left). First, of course, I had been angry with her and grieved her something fierce. If you have any morbid curiosity, like me, I recorded myself grieving. Warning: Graphic content.

 


A year later, I found myself envying her. The only thing that kept me from actually taking myself out was remembering how much it hurt - and sometimes still does - and I couldn't do that to my then-five-year-old son. He would have to deal with losing his mother entirely for the rest of his life, and, maybe he'd be raised by people who "had their shit together," but, they'd never be able to take the place of his real mom or dad. 

The abusive childhood in poverty, the abusive marriage, the divorce, the low-paying jobs, the custody battle and single motherhood, the failings with the opposite sex, the taking-way-too-long-to-finish-my-degree-because-I-couldn't-pick-a-career, the recovering from my own bout of alcoholism, my best friend committing suicide...none of that even held a candle to what came next. 

The depression really began to take hold when I took out a restraining order against the guy I had met at church (where I had been hired to sing in the summer of 2013 for $15/hr, 6 hrs/week; music is one of my majors) and to whom I had gotten engaged after becoming a baptized Christian in January 2014 (I chose to be saved by Jesus shortly after the video above, because I needed Him). At 25, though, the guy I decided to marry, as a Christian, had gotten too old to be on his parents' health insurance, had lost his job, stopped seeing his psychiatrist, went off his bipolar/anxiety/OCD/sleep meds, starting smoking weed all day, and physically attacked me. God bless his heart and soul...but I couldn't marry him after all. 

My next relationship was with a guy who had a piercing fetish. 

Ugh.

Being with a guy whose sole purpose was to see me in pain really deepened my depression. I had met this one at my other, 18-hour/week, $12/hour job doing online and print publicity and creating programs for the performing arts department at a community college (English was my other major). 

Two pretty nifty part-time jobs doings things I loved, but two crazy dudes (when Margo died, I gave up the no-more-men thing). So, when my junk car broke down, I went ahead and just left all of it behind.

I had already left school to try and better single-mom my Kindergartener (it's crazy how much homework they have in Kindergarten these days; he really needed my help, and I didn't have much time to do mine). So now I had nothing but my tax return, struggling to parent a five-year-old with a life that felt like it was in shambles; I dropped out of eveyone's life, got off social media, changed my email addresses and phone number, and begged God to just let me just die. 

But He didn't, of course.

The tax return ran out, God blessed me with a roommate to help with rent, and I started applying for jobs again. I got turned down to be the cow mascot at Chick-fil-A, and that was a huge blow to my self-esteem. I wasn't a specialist at anything - despite how "smart" I was - and had had a very eclectic part-time career while trying to get my degrees (double-majoring and going to school only part-time wasn't helping, either), from assistant-managing restaurants; to tutoring Geometry, English and Physics at the high school and college levels; to singing at a church and for memorial services; to being a sheet music librarian; to grading English essays for high school teachers; to photographing weddings and events; to publicizing and marketing for a performing arts organization as well as for individual performers; to building websites; to delivering pizzas and newspapers...but...I hadn't stuck with just one thing for long (two years at a time, max).

Whatever job I had, I threw myself into it, completely and whole-heartedly, giving it my all. But then I couldn't even be hired to be a cow mascot making minimum wage? Don't they realize what an amazing cow mascot I would be? I got to the point where I was so desperate for money that I was looking on Craigslist and chose to try some modeling; it seemed like a good way to make $200 in an hour. That, and I got paid ten bucks to write a fake Yelp review for Mossy Nissan. That was a dirty experience; never trust Yelp.

I was going down, fast. I got to this guy's house in Carlsbad for the "avant-garde, tastefully costumed" photo shoot for his "professional photography portfolio," and long story short, I was blindfolded, gagged, tied up, and raped.

The police wouldn't do anything to help me because I didn't fight the guy off of me or scream for help (he was a former Air Force pilot and way bigger than me, muscular, and I wasn't going to risk actually dying - finally, ironically, I really wanted to live). Plus, I didn't stop him from sticking the money in my purse when it was over while I was getting dressed. (And also, the police officer who interviewed me was a young rookie idiot and even flirted with me - but we all know plenty of cops shoot people for no reason, so...I got off easy). 

It was April 17, 2015, on a Friday while my son was in school; the rapist understood that I had to leave to go pick up my son, and that's why he finally let me go - after he showed me photos of his own kids on his iPad, nevermind the 15 or so other tied up women that popped up, one of them covered in blood. Actually, I might have been too traumatized to even go to the police had it not been for those other women and their sad, sad eyes. I knew that not all of them had to have consented to what this mother-fucker did. I couldn't be the only victim.

He also had bragged about his orgies with "20 chicks and 6 dudes," so now I was dealing with the prospect of possibly dying slowly of AIDS. When I told my friends, no amount of, "Oh, don't worry, they have great medicine for that now" helped.

In the days following, I found myself paralyzed. I could hardly move except to grieve on the floor. Finally I enrolled myself in some mixed martial arts to empower myself. Then, my grandma died, and while sitting there next to her body, suddenly I remembered who I was. I was Rachel Fawn Jones. I play music. I sing opera and classical arias. I write. I edit. I tutor. I photograph. I love science, and art, and history, and philosophy, and God, and spirituality, and helping people in need. And I'm a single mother superhero.

People are assholes - I have way too much experience with assholes that one person should have, probably - but I found a job helping non-assholes, because I knew it would help me, in turn. People with autism have such innocent souls; it was such an amazing opportunity to be a support specialist for adults with disabilities. God put me right where He wanted me, that's for sure. Problematically, though, it was only $11/hour (minimum wage is $9), 30 hours/week, and my car was about to break down again (I had gotten it fixed, but at 238,000 miles, it was still on its way out). I didn't want to end up broken down on the side of the road with these three awesome 22 year-olds who were now in my care from 8 am to 2 pm every weekday, so I needed a newer car. I got the newer car, but it was a $450/month car payment because of my horrible credit (from my marriage ending and being broke with many credit cards in my name after having that five-grand-plus monthly income for nearly a decade...but nothing but debt to show for it). 

There was no way I could afford the car payment and bills, gas, groceries etc. unless I got another job on top of the one I had, so...I figured I'd get a weekend job delivering pizza (which I tend to fall back on in times of desperation, IF there's something available - the tips are good).

My son's dad had put some sobriety together, and Louie wanted to spend more time with him, so over the summer we decided to let him stay with his dad while I worked. I didn't find a pizza delivery job, but I did find one making pizza at an amazing new restaurant in town. But, suddenly I found myself working 70 hours, 7 days a week. The weekend job turned into a full-time gig (I'm really, really good at making pizza - I told you, I throw myself whole-heartedly into everything I do). Now I could pay for the car and everything else just fine, but I had no time to see my son at all, whom I was used to seeing every single day.

I had to do something. The pizza job was earning me more money than the other job, and even though the guys with autism and all my coworkers raved about how amazing I was as a support specialist, I was so tired that I was getting cranky with those innocent, beautiful guys, and I no longer had the energy I needed to perform the job functions required. Working 8 am to between 10 pm and midnight was taking its toll...so I quit my day job, hoping that if I kicked ass at the restaurant, maybe I could earn the schedule I wanted.

But, see, in the restaurant business, sales occur mostly at nights and on weekends, so I'm still hardly seeing my son at all (he's still living 60 miles away in Chula Vista with his dad after these five months, attending first grade down there). So, as I'm writing this from bed on a Tuesday morning, I get the feeling that this just isn't where I'm supposed to be.

But what I've learned in recovery is the relationship between acceptance and change - that that's where serenity comes from. I've turned my life over to God, but what does that mean? It means I accept what I can't change, because it's probably part of His will for me, but, I pray for the courage to change what I can, while praying for the knowledge of His will for me, and the power to carry that out.

Blogging about it is a way to help spur me and hold me accountable; I'm not very good at being direct with people, or honest in "real life" - so much of my self-worth is wrapped up in others' opinions of me that I dare not speak the truth in person - but here, I feel safe. I guess it doesn't quite matter what your opinion is over there on the other side of the screen, because I'm not having to deal with you face-to-face, desperately trying to please you so I can feel like I'm worth something. Although, with God as my Director, my fear of people is starting to leave me, and I feel like I can begin to accomplish great things.

The other day, I re-applied to Cal State University, San Marcos, and as long as I get back in, I'll be going back there to finish by Bachelor's degree over Fall 2016. I only need four more classes, and two of them are Spanish, so on November 20 I'm enrolling in the first Spanish class to take at a community college over Spring 2016, and I'll take the other over Summer 2016.

I still don't know what I want to do for my "career" yet, though. I was searching TED.com for videos regarding "Truth" while I was on a becoming-a-polygraph-expert kick (I hate the act of lying - it's how I ended up being raped - so the idea of polygraph tests fascinates me). And as always with TED talks, I found something amazing that blew my mind. It was kind of how I felt when I discovered Robert Wright and his writings and talks on evolutionary psychology (I'm a Christian evolutionist, which people don't get...but anthropological evolution and natural selection have really helped me understand myself and others).

Despite my aversion to labels, hence the name of this blog (I've been labeled and diagnosed with so many things at this point, it fucks with my identity a little, and I just want to be "me"), I actually appreciate the monicker that Emilie Wapnick has given people like me, people who are interested in a ton of different things - and good at whatever they try - but aren't specialists of any one thing: multipotentialites (I've called myself a philomath: lover of learning). I've always felt - and been told - that it meant that something was wrong with me.

I still don't really know what I want to "be" when I "grow up." At 32, it eats at me that I still have so much growing up to do, and I feel anxiety from not having picked and followed a clear career path. I need to make money to provide for my son, but, I do get bored once I've mastered something, if there's no upward mobility or more challenges at the job - that, and, I need to not work so late into the night and on weekends (or at least find a balance that allows me to make money but still spend time with my son). 

I've begun taking pictures in addition to making pizzas and letting the restauranteur use them for publicity, and it's earned me a raise. I've also offered to update the restaurant's outdated website (I do websites, too). I still get to make a special pizza each week, so that's exciting and challenging still.

I miss my son like crazy, but I'm glad I at least have a job while I finish my degree - more doors will open to me once I have my bachelor's, I'm hoping, and I may even pursue further education after that. But what will I "be"?

I subscribed to Emilie's newsletter after watching her TED talk, and I'm excited to join her community to see where I can go with this.

Hi [Adora]! So you're one of us-- a multipotentialite. Welcome home. I think you'll find that, while your drive to pursue many things may have seemed like a foreign concept (or even a failing) to those around you, in this community, we're all right there with you. We all know what it feels like to think we've found our "calling," get totally immersed, and then become bored a few months or years in.  We know the crushing feeling, the sense of loss of an identity, the worry of judgment from others who tell us to "stick with it" and "commit," not taking us seriously when we try to express just how excited we are about the next passion that has piqued our curiosity. We know what it feels like to struggle, balancing all of our projects and we know the challenges of describing "what we do" to people or selling ourselves in interviews. We get how hard/impossible it is to "choose a niche" for our businesses and wish coaches would stop beating this idea into our heads.  Not only do we understand all this, but we share the belief that your multipotentiality doesn't have to be a curse at all. Once you learn how to use it, you'll find that it can become your biggest asset and help you stand out and shine. The Way this Works Here's the plan for the upcoming weeks: Once a week, usually on a Wednesday or Thursday, you'll receive a fresh, written-that-morning email from me. When it comes to "newsletters," we do things a little differently from what you might be used to. For one thing, I rarely re-post blog content. If you want to keep up to date with what's happening at Puttylike (and you should because it's always really fun), you're going to want to check out the links to the blog posts at the end of each email. The emails I write to you are often about the personal stuff. They usually consist of whatever imperfect, unpolished thoughts I happen to be having the morning I write the email. Sometimes it's hard for me to share what I'm going through, but I always try to be brave and open up.      Resources for Newly Self-Identified Multipotentialites The "Start Here" Page - A collection of the most popular and important articles on Puttylike. The Puttylike Terminology Page - What is a Multipotentialite? Feel free to send this page to friends and family members who don't understand. However, keep in mind that the "specialist" mentality is so ingrained in our culture, that it still may not do the trick... in which case, check out the next link. How to Deal with the Jerks and Naysayers Who Think You're Just "Indecisive" - How to control the impact that other people's opinions have on you How To Make Money as a Multipotentialite - 4 approaches to making a living as a multipotentialite I'm a Multipotentialite!...Now what? - How to start embracing your multipotentiality and integrating it into your life Why Some of Us Don't Have One True Calling (and Why We're Better Off that Way) - A good intro to the misinformation out there surrounding multipotentiality. Is "Multipotentialite" a Real Thing? Is it Really Okay to Be this Way? - My response to a reader who wasn't convinced that being a multipotentialite is okay. Why It's Good To Be A Multipotentialite - Just in case you're not convinced, this post outlines some of the benefits of multipotentiality! Finally, welcome to the Puttylike Community! I'm so thrilled that you've decided to join up with your peep, and I can't wait to get to know you better. Look out for the first email in the "IdeaSmoosh" series coming to you in the next couple days. And if this is your first exposure to the idea of multipotentiality and you're going through the "HOLY SHIT, MAYBE THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME AFTER ALL" phase, congratulations!!! That's huge. Also, feel free to hit reply to any of these emails if you have any thoughts or questions you'd like to share with me. I always love hearing from other multipods. Your pal and fellow multipotentialite, Emilie

4110 SE Hawthorne Blvd. #105
Portland OR 97214
USA
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"No Labels...just Life" blog: Orange Sky, Blue - Choosing Recovery

Here's what "mental illness" is like: Even though the sky looks orange to you, every one around you is telling you, "No, that's not orange, that's blue." But you think every one ELSE is crazy, and you keep insisting that it's orange, no matter what they say.

Here's what recovering from "mental illness" is like: You surrender. You stop insisting that the sky is orange. You acknowledge that you're wrong, and you apologize to every one for all those times you yelled at them, telling them that the sky is orange, not blue, and that they were crazy for thinking otherwise. Every day when you see that orange sky, you remind yourself, no, that's not orange, that's blue. Sometimes you still want to scream at people to tell them that the sky is CLEARLY orange, and sometimes you even do...but then you hurt people again, and it's not until you're in more pain yourself that you're willing to concede, once again, that, FINE, okay, the sky is blue. You acknowledge that you're wrong again and make more amends and try to clean up the wreckage you left this time when you started believing what your "mental illness" made you believe, again. 

Most people don't understand. They have their own lives to worry about, and eventually, you're such a pain in the ass that they just don't want anything to do with you. People who aren't close to you don't really know what you're like, so, you have plenty of acquaintances: fair-weather friends that you can hop around between, latch onto, maybe, for a little while, until you wear out your welcome. But you pretty much always do.

Ultimately, it's a lonely existence. BUT... you may be blessed enough to find a few select people who will love you forever, despite the fact that you see an orange sky when every one else sees blue. These are special people who see deep into your soul, past the "mental illness;" they know there's a human being in there, and they can't imagine life without you, even though, again, you can be a TOTAL pain in the ass.Try to love those people back as best you can, and appreciate them, and let them KNOW you appreciate them. It's hard, because you're "mentally ill." You don't know how to love yourself, much less, love others. Try to remember that it's hard for them, too. 

But EVERY one has it hard, in one way or another. And in the end, it doesn't really matter whether the sky is blue, or orange, or pink, or purple. What matters is that there's someone there to look at it with you.

(But it IS blue, damnit - so stop being such a pain in the ass.)

"No Labels...just Life" blog: China Ends One-Child Policy - Can Population Control and other Human Behaviors be Explained (and even Changed) by the Study of Sociobiology (a.k.a. Evolutionary Psychology/Behavioral Ecology/Darwinian Anthropology)?

China Ends One-Child Policy: https://www.yahoo.com/news/china-ends-one-child-policy-xinhua-105107793.html

I was shocked (in a good way - like when you hear a choir singing a sustained high Do together, with lots of vibrato)...until I saw that they changed it to a two-child policy, and only because the guys who made the policy are now old and dying and don't have kids to help them not die.

Suckas.

Ah, sociobiology. I wonder how many humans out there are keeping an eye on how we're affecting our own evolution? I know Robert Wright is one, and I'd like to see who else is. The act of humans not letting other humans live (forced abortions...can you imagine?)...that's an interesting one to me, and it manifests in all kinds of ways. I lean towards thinking that we would want new thinkers in this world to help solve the problems we older folk have created, but, I suppose if the little ones are using up "our" resources, evolutionarily speaking, I can see why people would resort to population control. But then, why not control the way we consume our resources? Why not preserve enough resources - even add resources - so our kids aren't left with a barren planet, and we can actually let them live - and they can take care of us when we're old and dying, the way humans have done for so many years?

When our own selfishness (not judging, just using the word) and trying to survive in our youth ensures our own death as we age...it's a problem. Or is it...?

And I just realized I need to watch some Star Trek....

But first, I want to rant a little more. Or maybe a lot more (hold on there, this could be a long one).

Kids are the future...and they'll evolve to handle whatever we leave 'em with. One key difference between humans and animals is that, because of our ability to choose to live in a way that's counterproductive to our own survival (not that we always do, just that we clearly have the ability to make that choice, with suicide as the most obvious example), we can change the course of our own evolution: we can mete ourselves out via the choices we make. But isn't that the opposite of what we're "supposed" to do? Animals seem to tend to stick with the program; nature follows its course whether they want it to or not...well...because there's no "wanting" for anything other than what they've evolved to want, which is survival and procreation. But...we're different from animals...aren't we?

Before we say whether population control is "bad" or "good" (well, okay, I was leaning towards "bad," but, as a scientist, if I'm wrong, it doesn't bother me - we just like to know what "is")...let's take a look at a disclaimer that Robert Wright, author of The Moral Animal: Why We Are the Way We Are - The New Science of Evolutionary Psychology uses at the beginning of his book. Wright poses that, when speaking of evolution, first we should separate the "ought" from the "is"-- and he's using an "ought," of course, but that differentiates a human and the science that explains the human. When we begin to explain our actions as a species, sometimes it may seem that we're using that explanation to excuse our actions as a species. And this is why evolutionary psychology, or any of its interchangeable nomers used as euphemisms, has received a bad rap, from ideas like "social Darwinism" as put into practice by people like Adolf Hitler (besides also having seemingly anti-religious implications, but I'm going to have to save that for another discussion; I'm a Christian Evolutionist, and that freaks people out).

To quote Wright, "[N]ature isn't a moral authority, and we needn't adopt any 'values' that seem implicit in its workings -- such as 'might makes right.' Still, a true understanding of human nature will inevitably affect moral thought deeply and, as I will try to show, legitimately" (10). 

There's more. But speaking of evolution, typing out quotes from the book in your hand is so old-school. Evolution, technology, digital photo, *poof*...

When Robert Wright makes the case for evolutionary psychology as a legitimate science by saying, "Hey, understanding this can help us as individuals, and as a species," he's playing upon our very instinct of survival itself...and for me, it's worked. But he wasn't even the one who introduced me to the idea. My last boyfriend, who graduated with his B.A. in Psychology, gave me the book (well, let me borrow...and then broke up with me...so I'm keeping it :P) after I had presented him with my own ideas about it. The very study of evolutionary psychology, I'm convinced, is one of the things that's saving my life right now. My survival instinct is causing me to read about survival instinct. Makes sense, really. But will it work?

To what extent are humans able to change their ways? To what extent are all of our choices already governed by the laws of biology and sociobiology? 

For example, both addiction and mental illness are fascinating phenomena, especially through the lens of sociobiology (again, interchangeably, evolutionary psychology). Are some of us simply programmed to kill ourselves to carry out natural selection? And in the case of murderers and rapists - those who take the survival and procreation instincts so far beyond their (seemingly) necessary purposes - is there something in their genes that, evolutionarily speaking, just needs to be passed on? 

I began pondering the implications of evolutionary psychology and how natural selection applies to humans when I, a recovering alcoholic/addict diagnosed with borderline personality, bipolar, and anxiety disorders, experienced a 6-month suicidal depression that ended only after I was brutally bound, blindfolded, gagged and raped in April of this year when I answered a Craigslist ad that was misleading. It was supposed to be a modeling gig, and yes, maybe I should have known better, or made a better career move, but I'm less concerned with judging the whole thing as good or bad than with examining it scientifically. And maybe that's my programmed way of dealing with the trauma so I can continue to survive...unless natural selection just really has it out for me.

After the rape, I went into intensive therapy, picked up mixed martial arts, and got a job helping disabled people, all of which empowered me as a human being. And one morning while I was practicing my Kenpo, Tai Chi and Wing Chun behind my apartment complex (I did say "mixed" martial arts, lol), after I had happened to read the first few pages of Darwin's On the Origin of Species as a bedtime story the night before, I thought to myself,

"Why was my brain trying to kill me for six months? Am I not useful to the species, or something? And why did that guy have to rape me? He was certainly an alpha male...top Air Force rank...rich...Carlsbad mansion...is he just hard-wired to pass on his DNA at any cost?"

I thought of the juxtaposition between alcoholics/addicts/the mentally "ill" and rapists/murders (who should probably also be labeled "mentally ill," if you're willing to slap that label on people who don't murder and rape...just sayin'). I thought to myself, "To survive or die, to procreate or not...what if every single choice we as humans make leads to one of these ends, and what if it's all decided by natural selection?"

I meditated on it while feeling my body's fluid, slow movement, keeping every muscle in my consciousness as I held two full glasses of water in each hand, blindfolded, taking the far-reaching, balanced steps that I had learned as part of the "Kenchunchi," my thighs burning with an intensity that called for constant concentration...except my mind kept wandering.

"How are human addiction and human instinct linked? Could biological evolution be responsible for the immutable 'addictive nature' in certain humans, who are bodily and mentally different from their 'non-addicted' fellows? Might the 'addictive nature' be an adaptation or a variation working towards the aims of natural selection, either for a human's survival, or against it? Since humans have the psychological ability to make choices either aligned with or that conflict with their natural instincts, either leading to the survival of the individual and species, or, against it (leading to death), how does this ability to choose shape human evolution differently than the way adaptations, variations and natural selection shape evolution in the rest of the animal kingdom?"

I was on a sick one, lol. And I kept going...

"Does the phenomena of addiction and obsession occur only in humans, and not in the rest of the animal kingdom? What part does the variation of addiction and obsession play in natural selection among the human species? Since choices can be made to redirect addictions and obsessions (i.e. alcohol, sex, love, food, etc.) towards other 'objects' or avenues (i.e. work, spirituality, or altruism), if 'properly' redirected, can these unalterable conditions work to ensure the survival of the individual? Futhermore, could addiction, when applied to survival, then be a variation naturally selected to further the species? If so, in what ways? Or, are non-addictive/obsessive types the ones naturally selected to further the species, beyond human choice? Are addictive/obsessive types less valuable to the human race? More valuable?"

Obviously, I'm the obsessive type...obsessing about obsession...

My final question brought me full circle.

 

"What if every single choice a human being makes is pre-determined by evolutionary psychology?"

Phew. That's a big one.

I had taken up self-defense after the horrific experience of being tied up, gagged, and forced into. It was my instinctual reaction - I wanted to protect myself. After the rape, when he was letting me dress myself, before he let me go, he bragged about his upcoming orgy with 20 women and 6 men, even inviting me to come, and he showed me upwards of 15 photos on his iPad of women whom he had similarly tied up the way he did me, except a couple of them were covered in blood. My survival instinct told me not to struggle - to stay calm, to pretend like nothing was wrong; I didn't let him know he was insane, just hoping if I fooled him into thinking I was on his side and it was no big deal, I'd get out of there alive. Because look what happened to the ones who did.

 

I went to the cops, but not until the next day, when I was no longer paralyzed from the PTSD - it took everything I had, and I screamed and cried the whole way there - and they said they couldn't do anything because I didn't struggle, and, because yes, I had showered first thing when I got home - so no, they weren't going to bother. The cop was a dick to me, too...he was even hitting on me in the interrogation room. No evidence, just my word for it which apparently isn't evidence enough in this country - yay, let's protect rapists. Obviously I'm still working out my resentment from the experience. But one of the things that helps me with that is realizing that these men are propelled by instinct...and so am I.

 

But for the six months prior, I had wanted to die. So I was actually grateful that the experience brought me out of my suicidal depression. Suddenly, when faced with that real possibility of death, and the mental illnesses that had taken hold of me no longer held sway over my survival instinct, natural selection wasn't gonna take me out - not this time.

 

And I'd really, really like for it not to, if I can help it.

"No Labels...just Life" blog: My Poor Son

My son is growing up with a slurry of men in his life. I left his dad and then one, two,  three, four boyfriends later, I'm hoping that this relationship sticks. 

Maybe it's because I just say yes to whoever will have me. Actually, I think that's pretty much it.

Until I'm with a guy - then I latch on like there's no tomorrow, no yesterday...only right now, this...

My poor son.

I feel like a terrible mother.

I left.

I was the one.

I broke his father's heart.

And now his father is dying of congestive heart failure...

With a six-year old boy the only one to take care of him...

Because mom is off with her boyfriend.

"Which one is it this time?" his dad will ask.

Actually, that's a lie. His dad doesn't want to know any more. He just wants his son safe and happy.

So do I.

"No Labels...just Life" blog: Surviving Mental Illness - and the Stigma that Can Make it Even Worse

I watched an amazing show last night on TLC with my boyfriend and saw this guy who hadn't left his house in like ten years because of PTSD. (Click here for full episode.) My situation isn't as extreme as his, but, I have a lot of PTSD from my abusive childhood and the abusive relationships I've been in, and, I deal with social anxiety on a daily basis. I've also recovered from a suicidal depression that lasted from October 2014 to April 2015. I don't talk about it much because there's a huge stigma associated with mental illness. There's a tendency to blame and fear the sufferers, and there's the idea that these people are merely shells of human beings that will collapse under the weight of life at any moment, so it's best not to invest much time in them and to keep your distance. And maybe that's true, to some extent. I know I collapsed earlier this year and I've been slowly - but surely - getting back up again. 

Because of the stigma, I hid my depression from almost everyone. When I disappeared in March from family, friends, jobs, and church - changing my phone number, email addresses, and deactivating all social media - some people were angry with me, some were worried about me, some were both, and some didn't even notice. I do want to say I'm sorry to those of you who care for me and just want to see me thrive, even though my brain convinced me that I had nothing to offer this world and should just leave it. I also want to say I'm sorry to those of you from whom, even now, I try to hide my mental illness with the hope that you'll think I'm just a badass human being. Yes, there's a stigma, but letting you know about it is better than blind-siding you with it when I start experiencing symptoms, because there's no hiding it then. 

I'm doing the best I can - with lots of help - not to act on symptoms and function and thrive in society. It's been a year since my suicidal depression started and five months since it ended; I'm proof that you can survive and recover from any mental illness, no matter how you feel - even if, every single day, you don't want to exist any more, with no end in sight - you just have to hold on and get help (I promise, there's at least one person who's been through it and understands). And then that beautiful day comes, maybe after months, when you realize, "Hey, I've made it, and I have a purpose here on this Earth after all; I'm not finished yet." 

I didn't work at the restaurant today (I'm so grateful to have found a job making pizza, because it's simple, I'm great at it, and it's so perfect for someone like me). So, to continue to thrive as a human being, I updated my website: [deleted] (I'll purchase a new domain name in a few days when I get paid). It's simple for now, but I'm hoping to catch some work here and there using my many talents, like I was before the depression hit, and eventually it'll be full of all of the amazing things I'm doing. :)

For now, though, I'm going to do laundry, put clothes away, put dishes away, vacuum, clean the apartment, cook something, and make this a nice, relaxing place for my hard-working, amazing boyfriend to come home to. I can't believe I'm in a relationship with someone so spectacular - so I want to nourish that, too.

"No Labels...just Life" blog: Oh Yeah, I'm a Photographer...

Disclaimer: I'm having font issues. I think it has to do with starting these posts on Facebook on my iPhone and then editing them on my Blogger app and then editing them on the Blogger website (all using my phone). Okay, now that I've explained why there are so many different fonts intertwined (if you even see them, like I do), here's my post:

It's funny; I'll start to post on Facebook and then my status update turns into a paragraph. I'll never forget that friend who commented on a post of mine who said, if a post takes me twenty minutes to write, it belongs on a blog and not Facebook. It's not that I had to heed her criticism, but, little did she know, every status update has always taken me twenty minutes, lol. So, maybe that's not "normal" Facebook activity, and maybe she was right.

So, now that I'm transitioning from Facebook blog posts to actual blog posts, here's the Facebook status update I was writing just now, copied and pasted and edited to be even longer than the paragraph it originally was (and one of these days I'm going to have to thank her publicly for getting all this started, but, for now I'll keep her anonymous since there's clearly still some passive aggressive resentment, lol):

Days off are sometimes weird for me, if I have more days off than I've asked for, but, I'm an intelligent woman, and I understand that when business is slow, in order to stay in business (i.e. make money), the restaurant has to cut costs. Restaurants aren't places where cooks are supposed to be able to make a full-time living unless you're the manager, an assistant manager, the owner, the chef, or the sous chef. That's why, even though it freaked me out when my hours when cut at first, at this point, I don't take it personally. I love my job making pizza, and my bosses know that, so I'm no longer worried about my hours or my wage. I figure everything'll work itself out as long as I keep doing a good job. But on my days off, when it's not the day I have off to be with my son, I do get to thinking, "Hmm, so, I'm not making money right now...if I don't like that...and if I want to change that...how am I going to change that?" 

I've decided today is photography day. Yep! Many of you know I'm a photographer but stopped when I got steady work elsewhere, even though I had only just gotten started after taking photography at Cal State. It's time to pick my camera back up and start shooting again. Well...before that, it's time to pick up my Wordpress website-building skills and build myself a new website so I can market myself so I can start shooting again. :P

I'm brilliant, and I have so many talents - marketing, publicity, websites, photography, music, writing, editing - I could easily be making money with all of those when I'm not on the clock at my "real" job. All I have to do is actually do it. Maybe my letter to Work Ethic is being answered. Or, more accurately, my prayers...don't let me leave God out any more! 

I'll even say it again:

My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, both good and bad. I pray that you remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to You and my fellows. Grant me strength as I go out from here to do your bidding. Amen.

So...let's be useful!