El Shaddai - The Breasted God

Once upon a time, a woman knocked at my door who wanted to share her faith and I invited her into my apartment. "I'll listen to you talk about your beliefs if you'll listen to mine," I said and she agreed. She told me what type of Christian she was,-I don't remember what kind anymore-what she believed, and how wonderful it was. Then it was my turn. I talked about being a Feminist Christian and how my way of following Christ was wonderful for me. I told her that one of the main differences between her and my church is that we are all inclusive, even down to our language about people and especially about Godde.

 "Sometimes we refer to Godde as He and sometimes we refer to Godde as She, as we recognize that Godde contains aspects of both genders," I said. This seemed to blow her mind.

 "But the Bible only refers to God as He!" she said.

 "Ah, but the Bible refers to God in the third person and the people who wrote the Bible used He, because they lived in a patriarchal society," I said.  "But Godde never refers to herself as He or She, because that would be weird. Godde does refer to Herself as "I AM," which is gender neutral. You see, it is men who decided that Godde must be male, not Godde, Himself."

 "Hmmmm..." It was like I could see the gears in her head turning and then she brightly smiled. "Well, I am glad that you are a Christian and it was nice talking to you," she said, and then departed. I was awestruck as I closed the door, for I realized that I had just been a part of a miracle-that is, two people who normally would think of each other with fear, dread, and anger put aside their differences and talked calmly about their beliefs. Y'all, this does not happen often in the South! I was expecting to be told that my kind of Christianity was wrong and she was probably expecting me to slam the door in her face. We had had an experience that is rare in our culture-a discussion, or to put it in more scholarly terms, a dialogue. It seems to me, at least from what I have observed from interactions on Facebook to the politicians on television, that our society argues a whole lot more than we calmly discuss. What would our country look like if we actively listened to one another instead of trying to change one another? I think there would be a whole lot more peace and acceptance, for it is true that the only person that one has control over and can make change is one's self.

 But back to her assertion that the "Bible only refers to God as He." I didn't know it then, because I didn't know as much about the Bible in 2005, but the Bible actually does refer to Godde as She quite a lot. I never knew it, because until very recently the translations of the Bible to English removed most of the references and so only the scholars that studied the Greek and Hebrew knew the truth. Now I have not studied Greek or Hebrew, but I do go to a church that includes aspects of the feminine into how we worship the Divine. I have learned that ancient Christians referred to the Holy Spirit as "Sophia." Sophia is also the name used for Wisdom in the original texts. Yesterday, as I was reading from The Inclusive Bible, I found another wonderful feminine surprise-it was translating El Shaddai not as the Almighty, but as "the Breasted One:"

The name El Shaddai is usually translated "the Almighty," under the assumption that it derives either from the word shadad,which means "burly" or "powerful," or from shadah, which means "mountain," making the name mean "God of the mountains." There is growing opinion, however, that Shaddai may derive from the word shad or "breast"-thus El Shaddai may be a feminnine image of God meaning "the Breasted God." Then again, since mountains are frequently shaped like breasts, these two interpretations are not mutually exclusive. (12)

Study these verses with the new interpretation:

When Abram was ninety-nine years old, YHWH appeared and said, "I am the Breasted One. Walk in my presence and be blameless. I will make a covenant between you and me, and I will increase your numbers exceedingly." Gen. 17:1-2

In this instance, saying Godde is the Breasted One makes sense to me, because She is promising Abram that She will increase his numbers-in essence, She is promising him fertility and what better sign for fertility is there than the breast, which becomes full of nourishing milk as the baby is about to be born. Breasts are a comforting pillow and Godde's promise of fertility is a comfort to Abram and Sarai. I like this image of Godde-a nourisher, a comforter, and one who gives life. I have looked at several other verses that contain the phrase "the Breasted One" and they seem to always be used when Godde is connected to the Israelites. The Israelites, as the story goes, were Godde's chosen people and Godde gave them nourishment to grow as a people. This view of naming Godde nourishes and comforts me, as I prefer to think of Godde as the source of my strength, but in a nourishing way-not in the destructive power-over-another way that the name "Almighty" sometimes implies.

 BTW, when I first read that passage in my Bible, my immediate reaction was to laughingly sing to myself Amy Grant's song, "El Shaddai": "Breasted God, Breasted God, El-Elyon na Adonai, Age to age You're still the same, By the power of the name." I betcha won't hear it the same way again!

I'm going to start something new!  Since I like to read blogs and I love to share, whenever I write a blog post, I'm also going to post the blog posts I've read lately that are worthy of my recommendation.

First are three posts about a new game at Disney World that unfortunately stigmatizes fat children.

Red no. 3 – Disney’sWonderful World of Fat Shaming Earlier

This isn't about the bad habits at all. Its training children to adopt the socially dictated bigotries around fatness.

Dances with Fat – Deeply Disappointedin Disney

Do we really want to create more fear of being fat when we know that there is a 112% increase in the number of hospitalizations for kids under 12, UNDER TWELVE, who have eating disorders?

Life with Bliss – Why WouldDisney Teach Kids to Bully Each Other and to Feel Bad About Themselves?

In our culture, with the War on Childhood Obesity, where we focus on children's body size, we are teaching discrimination based on the physical characteristic of body size.  This teaches our children to discriminate against each other and that they are entitled to bully each other.

Then, Dances with Fat writes about weight loss medications in It's About My Heart.

[...] fat is not a diagnosis.  It’s a descriptor.  Obesity is not a disease, it’s a ratio of weight and height.  There are perfectly healthy obese people (and very unhealthy thin people).

 Excitable Gurelle (The Queen of Bipolar) gives thanks for science and medicine in It's Medication Time!

Imagine my life and health if this was fifty or more years ago. I doubt I would even be alive let alone comfortable most days. Where would you be if it was 1950?

          Tonight I am grateful for science and medicine.


BUT, if you only read ONE of the posts that I recommend, then read You're Cured Right Now by Womanist Musings!

As a disabled person, I am constantly encouraged to rise above.  The super crip narrative is absolutely universalized.  What rarely gets discussed is the fact that when disabled people do actually push themselves and rise above, it is taken as proof that a disability no longer exists, and that accommodations no longer need to be made.

Happy reading! 

A Quote, A Recipe, and Lots of Fatshion Fun

Without God, we are completely determined by our past. ~ Monica A. Coleman, "Making a Way Out of No Way"

Without God, we would be doomed to always repeat our mistakes, to never learn, to never grow, because I believe Godde is the force that continually urges us to a newer, better, more lovely way. Godde is Love and Godde is Hope. It is not that our past is so bad, but that our past should only be a part of who we are-not our totality. There should always be hope that life can be better than it currently is.

 Just a few years ago, I did not enjoy cooking, because all I could think of was the fat grams and calories that I was about to consume. Now I love to cook! A few nights ago, I made Mandarin chicken for dinner.

Mandarin Chicken Skillet Dinner

Ingredients

• 1 cup fresh broccoli florets
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 2 pounds skinless, boneless chicken breast meat - cubed
• 1 1/2 cups sliced fresh mushrooms
• 3 teaspoons all-purpose flour
• 2/3 cup water
• 1/3 cup undiluted, thawed orange juice concentrate
• 2 cubes chicken bouillon
• 1 (11 ounce) can mandarin orange segments, drained
• 1/4 cup sliced green onion

Directions

1. Place broccoli in a steamer over 1 inch of boiling water, and cover. Cook until tender but still firm, about 2 to 6 minutes. Use a Zip'N Steam bag.  Drain, cool and set aside.
2. Heat butter in a large skillet over medium high heat. Saute chicken in butter until browned. Remove from skillet and set aside.
3. Saute mushrooms in skillet for 1 minute; remove from skillet and set aside. Stir in flour, water, orange juice concentrate and seasoning.
4. Heat to boiling, stirring. Simmer, stirring, for 4 minutes. Return chicken and mushrooms to skillet; stir in orange segments, green onion and broccoli. Heat through and serve.

I didn't use mushrooms, because I didn't have any.  But don't let that stop you-mushrooms are great!

Serve this dish atop rice, like I did.  Everyone liked this light, citrus-y, sweet dish.  It's very easy, especially since my visiting aunt chopped up the chicken.  I love mandarin oranges and I think their color makes any meal look festive.

Something I also never used to do before I started blogging was to take pictures of myself.  Why would I?  In my body-hating opinion, looking at a picture of myself was simply an excuse to gaze at my flaws.  I would scan the picture looking for instances of body fat and other perceived flaws.  I just could not be satisfied with myself.  And if I did want my picture taken, I would passively wait for someone else to offer to take my picture.  If no one did, then I would silently wallow in self-pity for the fact that no one could read my mind.  It was proof, I thought, that no one liked me or thought I was important.  It was not true, of course, but what was true was the fact that I was passively letting other people control my life.  I still do this sometimes, but now it is something I am working on letting go.  And if I want my picture taken?  If I think I look good?  Then I'll take the damn picture myself, just to be sure I've got one!

Here are some pictures I have taken of moi in the past couple of days.  It's Fa(t)shion February and I just had to join in on the fun!



I really like this picture of me!  I am wearing my "holiday party" sweater-you may not be able to tell, but the smaller lines are sparkly.  The sweater and the pants are from Torrid.  The cami is from Target and the shoes are from DSW.













This is what I was wearing when I was cooking the mandarin skillet dinner.  I just bought the shirt last week on clearance at Torrid!  The shrug is from Marshall's, I think.  I have no idea where the leggings are from, but the shoes are from Rack Room.
This is my most recent outfit and I really like it.  Jeans are from Torrid, the shirt is from Target, the sweater is from JCPenney, the shoes from Rack Room, and my parents bought me the necklace for my birthday at an arts festival last year.
"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul"  This is one of my favorite necklaces, as it contains a line from one of my favorite poems, by one of my favorite poets-Emily Dickinson.

It's sort of funny, but the time I hated myself the most was the time when society thinks that I would love myself the most.  I was already suicidal when I was skinny and I was sure that I would kill myself if I ever got fat.  I'm not proud of this, but in my mind, fatness equaled being out of control, wild, and unloveable.  I would look at a fat person and think to myself, "I would kill myself if I looked like them."  I thought a lot about killing myself in those days...  I am ashamed that I was so judgmental and that I believed society's lie.  I actually thought that it would be impossible for a person to be fat AND happy and that if I ever had to gain weight, that I might as well give up on living.  It sounds shallow, but it was really more about my need for feeling in control.  Now, because of my medication, I am fat.  And I love myself.  And I am happy, at least most days, lately.  And I have self confidence and I even have sex on occasions.  My fatness has not slowed me down and now I know that if I start thinking about killing myself, then I need to see my doctor and my therapist right away.  Losing weight will not fix my problems, but losing the expectations that society tries to shove down my throat will be many steps in the right direction of my recovery.

BTW, this post by The Fat Nutritionist about feeling fat is fabulous.  She should be required reading for anybody in recovery from an eating disorder.

All Bodies Can Be Sexy!

I was watching the new show, Smash, the other night, which is about a musical being written about Marilyn Monroe and the two women that want to have the leading part. One of the ladies was bemoaning about how hard it is to get called back from auditions and was hypothesizing that she was too skinny and not sexy enough. "I wish I were fat," she moaned. The audience, of course, is supposed to understand that fat people are never sexy and that this woman-I don't remember the character's name-is seeing fatness as an escape. "Oh, if only I were fat, then I would never have to worry about my looks-there'd be no use!" I call this bullshit. Being sexy is all about being comfortable in one own's body. It's about self-confidence and chemistry-only fools think it's purely about size. I should know-I am fat and I am sexy! I'm sexy in the times when I feel good about myself and I take pride in my body. I don't feel good about myself all the time, but when I do, I am hot and captivating. So are you to at least someone, no matter what your weight is. I took these pictures several months ago on a day when I was feeling good and sexy about my body.


Aren't those leggings fun?  I wish I knew where my mom found them!  I got the shoes from Goodwill.

On a side note, it's hard to feel sexy and to take pride in one's body when one is in the clutches of mental illness.  Whether the illness is depression or anxiety or schizophrenia, taking care of the body just doesn't seem that important when one is striving to take control of one's own mind.  Now that I am feeling better, I have noticed that I am wearing lipstick and styling my hair more often.  Hell, I am showering more often!  Perhaps there will be some more recent pictures of me soon...

January Books 2012

Patternmaster by Octavia E. Butler - This is a good book, but it's not my favorite in Butler's Patternist  series.  It's the semi-typical story about a hero on a journey to prove his manhood, which is a little unusual for Butler.  But then again, this was her first novel.  Butler is a fabulous character writer and I did love her character, Amber.  I especially appreciated the fact that Amber is bisexual.  It is so refreshing to read a science fiction book with a bisexual female character and not feel like the reason for her addition is to please the minds of men.  It was also refreshing that Amber was the one to teach Teray how to defend himself.  I love strong, complex female characters and Butler is the best author I know that provides them.  I might just have to reread some of her other novels for more!

Mental Health Awareness Week-Surviving Suicidal Impulses is Living into Recovery

**Trigger Warning-Self-Harm and Suicidal Thoughts Discussed**

Well, it happened.  In my last post, I wrote about being full of gratitude, because of not being depressed and yet I knew that the depression would eventually return.  Here is what I wrote:

I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it, because I don't want to be too disappointed when a day of depression comes again.  One undoubtedly will-depression, as one of my therapists keeps on telling me, is a recurring disease.  He keeps telling me that, so that when I start feeling depressed again, I can work towards staying in peace instead of totally giving into depression. 

Actually, it wasn't so much the depression that came back, but the anxiety.  The horror started gradually-I had wonderful, depression-free days, but at night I had a lot of trouble sleeping.  As I lay in bed trying to sleep, my mind would just obsess about made-up scenarios.  My thoughts raced around as my frustrations would build.  On Wednesday, I made an appointment with my doctor for Monday, but that wasn't soon enough, because all hell broke loose on Friday...

Friday, I woke-up at 5:30am in the middle of a panic attack.  It was horrendous.  Panic attacks are only supposed to last around ten minutes, but this one continued for hours.  Panic attacks are terrifying, because I feel like I am losing my mind and fast.  I called my doctor as soon as his office opened and then I called my mother.  We tried to think of coping skills that I could use and I decided that I would take a shower to try and calm myself.

It worked too well.

As I was standing in the shower, hot water hitting my face and thoughts still racing around my brain, I thought to myself, "I don't want to do this anymore."

My world fell silent and it seemed that I separated into two people-a person that still wanted to live and be in recovery and one that only desired to kill the other.  The second, suicidal self answered the thought with another, "I don't have to."  Now I wasn't trying to survive the panic attack, but my urge to kill myself.

I struggled with wanting to call someone to tell them the "good" news that I had discovered the answer to my pain and that that answer was to end my life, but I knew that they would not see it from my point of view.  I knew the person I called would want to keep me alive and the recovery self called my sponsor.  There was no answer and the suicidal self stifled my cries and hung up the phone.  "She won't call back, " I thought.  "I'll be able to do it after all."  But I didn't.  I took a knife and held it in my hands and stared at it longingly, but I didn't.  And as I was pacing the room, about ten minutes later my sponsor called back.  I don't remember much of what was said, but we talked for about thirty minutes and the talking stilled the suicidal voice in my head long enough for me to see my doctor.

By the time I saw my doctor that day, I was rational enough that my doctor did not understand just how dangerously anxious I was.  He told me to go to Ridgeview's access center and see about getting into their night PHP program, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.  I knew that if I went to the hospital that I was going to be admitted and that my suicide would not be successful.  I went anyway.  My recovery self won.

I spent six days inpatient, four on precautions, which is the side of the unit where suicidal patients are kept.  It took several days for my medications to start working and I am embarrassed to say that I self-harmed by scratching my wrist with sharp objects I found in an effort to lessen the emotional pain.  Despite my self-harming and my suicidal thoughts, there was a part of me that wanted to live, because I always told on myself shortly after starting to self-harm and gave up whatever object I had been using.

By the sixth day, I was feeling much better and I am continuing to improve.  My new medications really seem to be working the way they should-I am no longer feeling depressed OR anxious.  I am seeing my therapist twice a week and she is going to start teaching me coping skills to deal with depression and anxiety for people with Borderline Personality Disorder, called DBT or Dialectical Behavior Therapy using a workbook.

The thing is, the whole time I was at the hospital, I kept on hearing talk about how to keep the patients out of the hospital, as if being in the hospital is a bad thing.  I think that kind of talk though is stigmatizing.  We don't chastise a cancer patient when they have to return to the hospital for treatment, so why does that happen to mentally ill ones?  Let me ask you this: Was I still in recovery when I was feeling so suicidal?  When I handed my pen cap to the counselor, because I wanted to use it to scratch myself?  When I shouted at the weekend doctor that I wanted to slit my wrists? Yes!  Because I had not fully given up-I was getting the help I needed, so that I would stay alive long enough to learn how to thrive.

Some people think that a person in recovery never needs to go to the hospital, but unfortunately that is not always so. A person in recovery gets the help they need and never gives up.  I am tired of the stigma of the hospital that prevents some people from getting help.  Two weeks ago, I got a standing ovation by one of my support groups for going to the hospital and getting the help I needed.  This week is Mental Health Awareness Week and I urge you not to further the stigma.  I wish all patients got a standing ovation for going to the hospital.  I wish the emphasis was not on making this the person's last hospitalization ever, which inadvertently heaps shame and guilt unto the patient, but on comforting, validating, and loving the patient as much as possible.  The most important thing in recovery is to never give up-holding on to the slightest of hope always brings better days in the end.  

Five Days and Not Counting...

This is the fifth day in a row that I have not been depressed!   Not that I'm counting or anything...  I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it, because I don't want to be too disappointed when a day of depression comes again.  One undoubtedly will-depression, as one of my therapists keeps on telling me, is a recurring disease.  He keeps telling me that, so that when I start feeling depressed again, I can work towards staying in peace instead of totally giving into depression.  Not that that's easy at all.  But for today, I am not depressed, THANK GODDE!!!

Yesterday, as I was marveling at it being the fourth day in a row without depression, I thought to myself, "Today I am not depressed, but I don't know what tomorrow will hold..." and I smiled.  I was surprised at my smile!  Usually at the end of such a thought, I would have frowned, as I would have started to worry about the next day.  Soon, that worry would start tearing up the good parts of my day until all I was left with is negative energy, which would edge me closer and closer back towards the dark hole of my depression.  But yesterday, I smiled instead and with that smile, I gave thanks and decided to live in gratitude for today.  In fact, I almost laughed, because in that moment of clarity I realized that this was not my normal reaction to such a thought.  Perhaps, by appreciating my good mood, instead of anticipating a bad one, I can foster more goodness.  It sounds so easy, it's almost too easy.  It's the kind of advice that I always mocked before, because I felt like it minimized how awful I felt.  

Why was I able to utilize this truth when I wasn't able to before?  I think I have been more open to life's possibilities and truths lately than in previous times.  It's like ever since the mysterious time on Tuesday when I realized that I was not depressed anymore, the resulting gratitude has opened a door in my soul.  I don't think I could have learned that truth about living for today when I was extremely depressed.  That's not an endictment of my character, but a powerful testimony at how horrible depression is.  Depression is utter darkness, total aloneness, and emptiness that goes on like an endless ocean.  To experience the truth of gratitude, I needed to see the crack of light under the door.  What happened to my spirit between Monday and Tuesday?  I think the "crack" of hope for me this time was an increase in my medication, and an increase in sleep.  These two things led to an increase in my ability to persevere.  The result after persevering in my battle with depression?  Gratitude.

Take a minute and smile with me now in gratitude.

December 2011 Books

Vampire Kisses 8 - Cryptic Cravings by Ellen Schreiber - This book was okay.  Raven is excited that Jagger and friends are going to build a gothic nightclub in her own club, but she's afraid that it's going to attract unwanted attention to Alexander.  I know what her concerns are, but frankly, I found her to be a worrywort.  I just wanted Raven to have fun and enjoy herself, but she kept worrying about her boyfriend.  Actually, this book concerned me as I am afraid it promotes a devotion that is unhealthy for teens to emulate.  It is unhealthy to be so devoted to one person at age sixteen or seventeen when there is so much time left to make a decision, especially when it seems that she is a little conflicted between her love for Alexander and for Travis.   It was very frustrating for me to read, because whenever she would start to think romantically about Travis, she would then tell herself that she is really devoted to Alexander.  I wanted to shake her and tell her to have more fun, to not be so serious, and that this blind devotion is extremely scary, as it usually leads to abuse.  I just hate young adult books where the leading character has a flaw that is painted as a desirable trait.

Sometimes I Act Crazy - Living with Borderline Personality Disorder by Jerold J. Kreisman and Hal Straus
Do you remember how I promoted the book, "I Hate You-Don't Leave Me?"  I take it back!  I have come to the conclusion that that book is too old to be much good for most people nowadays.  "Sometimes I Act Crazy," is written by the same people and this time I do heartily promote the book.  Written over a decade later than their first book, they now have a lot more information both in the disorder itself and in how to cope with it.  Each chapter explains one of the nine symptoms of BPD by using an absorbing case study and at the end of each chapter are direct ways that loved ones can help the person with BPD and ways that the person with the disorder can help herself in dealing with that particular symptom.  I thoroughly appreciate this book, as it gave me an understanding of my illness that I did not have before and just as importantly, it gave me a new vocabulary for describing my symptoms.  Finally, this book is much more optimistic than their first book and the authors rail at the insurance companies that continue to discriminate against those with BPD.  I heartily recommend this book to anyone who is connected to BPD and this time I will not take back my recommendation!


The Woman's Bible by Elizabeth Cady Stanton
This book is a free classic work on Kindle and I read it on my SmartPhone whenever I had time over several months.  Writing this book got Stanton kicked out of the suffragist movement, because most of her suffragist friends thought that by writing this book, she was creating too much division.  This book is one of the first feminist theologies and for that it deserves to be read.  Stanton and her committee of 26 women used this book to address all the passages in the Bible that concern women.  Sometimes the commentary is absolutely fabulous and makes my feminist heart flutter and then in other times, I get frustrated, because the commentary seems to be lacking a lot.  This is not incredibly serious, scholarly theology, but is more of a platform for feminism.  This is not totally Stanton's fault-she could not find enough theologians willing to put their careers on the line for a controversial, feminist theology.  For anyone interested in feminist theology or in first-wave feminism, this book is a must read.