T.M. Shannon

Hi everyone,

Well, I’ve decided to start blogging again, and this time making an effort at it. So, goodbye Blogger, and Hello (again) WordPress. It has been quite a while since I dropped off (2 years!), with life getting in the way, some blocking, writing Three Ways to its now-forgotten conclusion. And so, I’ve decided to take this up again and be a little more, well, present.

The WIP is doing well. I’m mid rewriting now, and having been stuck on progression, have cut all the third-act additions I tacked in there, and I’m ready to go keeping focus on the main three characters. Not sure what the timeframe is, if pressed I can get three chapters a week, but I’m having some anxiety out of that. Probably the amount of fixing?

But I’m okay with that. I was getting in the mind of doing a sequel anyway, so the excess will make it there. But the original ending and subplot as intended? Let’s just say pointedly S.H.I.T. feedback answered my questions on that. But again, I’m okay. Hello future WIP!

So where does it leave me, bi, ex atheist, bipolar going to Church more than a couple of days a week, with an addiction that has been throwing me around a bit with withdrawals for a couple of months now, which has me ducking back into reconciliation sadly with some frequency?

First off, you don’t have to worry. I’m not getting whipped or flayed, the priests I go to are beautiful confessors with understanding and gentle penances. I am settled, if a bit rattled, in a 12 Step fellowship and being more open with my fellows. Above all, I’m not taking it out on myself.

But I had an odd thought the confession before last. Probably inwardly confounded, I did my penance, had a moment of silence, then heard the most horrible words .“You don’t deserve this.”

Was it my own doubt sown in a moment of despair? The wounded inner child otherwise known as my addict? Uncle Sates from downstairs? Forgive me thinking the latter, but I didn’t feel it was my voice at all.

It now has me thinking. Perhaps it’s solely about Church, but I’ve had a lot of doubt in my life, undeserving, unbelonging, related in self-deprecation like passing off compliments as just being who/what I am, or saying, “It’s okay,” to situations where it certainly wasn’t.

It now has me remembering. I’ve had the thought in Church before, in God’s company alone. I’ve had the thought about recovery (though that may be as I was in a fellowship that wasn’t quite me). Looking back, I’ve felt it in relationships, had it from a parent who rescinded a birthday gift.

They seem like points for just my brain, possibly my addict, but the tone was cold, ominous. But I did something different. I told that voice that I did deserve this – the Trinity, the Holy Mother, the Eucharist, healing.

And I deserve many things I now have in life. Recovery, and especially the gift of sobriety even if I’m stumbling now. A loving, supporting, partner I built a healthy relationship with. A Roblox-obsessed teenager. A holistically-felt sexuality/romanticism that I use to fuel my all-comers compassion. Being able to use my writing to explore my reality within the confines of a marriage and the set of Church rules.

But this raises new points.

Do I deserve to be part of the community, choosing a religion and community that still has a lot of derogatory and hateful things to say about the community and its people, in spite of many lessons contrary to cruel behaviour? (And let’s not forget my partner is a cishet she).

Am I welcome in queer spaces, even though believing Love Thy Neighbour to its fullest, no desire to preach where it’s not needed, have my rainbow flag and, “I swing both ways, violently, with a sword,” pin? (Thank you, darling partner of mine)

Honestly? I don’t know. I’m not community involved. That, however, I want to change, and shared in the Ally training at work along with an unfortunate experience of bi erasure on Wear it Purple day of all days.

Small steps maybe, and maybe they need to be small so I’m not overwhelmed (Hi bipolar, how ya goin’?). As with understanding that one particular withdrawal slip is a world away from my active addiction, I’m a world away from physicality in a places I used to go to.

It’s a weird thing feeling on the outer of two communities. But I’m always Kinsey 3 in things – bipolar, bisexual, and bi-communal. And while some in the last on both sides may disagree/ proselytise/hate where and what I am/will be, as I said in my last confession regarding recovery, I’m not giving up on my journey.

And as I haven’t forgotten to say, have a good one!

T. M.