#safe_space

📌 إخلاء مسؤولية: هذه التدوينة مخصصة لأغراض التوعية وتقليل الضرر (Harm Reduction) فقط، وليست ترويجاً لأي منتجات طبية. هذا المحتوى لا يغني عن استشارة مقدم الرعاية الصحية المختص.

This is the story of Justin Fashanu

Life is so busy!  I have not had any time to write on my blog, so forgive my absence.  Instead of a specific topic, I’ve been thinking about a certain word lately.  That word is “normal.”  I’ve been hearing this word a lot lately, and I’ve been wondering what exactly that word means.  When I was 12, I was bullied because they (the bullies) said I was not “normal.”  As a kid, I knew that it meant that I was different from others, but I always heard that word used in a negative connotation.  It was not until I went to college that I realized the true meaning of the word “normal.”  There are way too many ways to define “normal,” so I am not going to even bother trying.  Instead, I will tell you a little story.  While in college, I met a lot of different people.  Some preferred following the status quo, and others did not.  I used to believe that it was a bad thing to be different, but then I realized how stressful and boring it was to even attempt to be “normal.”  I met an awesome group of friends that were most definitely NOT “normal,” and they did not care one single bit.  When I hung out with them, I was free to be my awkward, anti-social, introverted self.  I did not have to worry about being different because we all liked being different.  Having differences was what made us such great friends.  Not too long after I met them, my mom and I get into a disagreement.  To this day, I cannot remember exactly what the fight was about, but I do specifically remember my mom asking me an odd question: “Why can’t you be normal?”  I answered her with the best way I knew how.  I replied, “Define ‘normal.’”  She has never mentioned it again.  Ever since that day, I thrive on not being “normal.”  Honestly, there is nothing about me that is considered “normal,” and I prefer it that way.  Being “normal” is just plain boring.  If I were “normal”, I would not be able to get away with laughing like a hyena, or wearing a bunny rabbit onesie to class, or even arguing about the current Harry Potter fanfiction.  Weird.  Abnormal.  Dork.  Geek.  Mutant.  These are all words that I would use to describe myself, and it disappoints me that these words are still seen as something negative.  I am outrageously happy that I am not “normal.”  I’m not going to lie, it is hard sometimes to not be self-conscious when people around me tend to stare with a disapproving look on their face, but then I remember what it was like to try to be “normal.”  I ended up stressing myself out to a point where I ended up in the hospital, but that’s a story for another day.  My point is that being “normal” might be fine for some people, but if it stresses you out, don’t bother trying.  Be yourself.  Don’t try to be someone you are not for the sake of “fitting in.”  It will only cause you pain and sadness in the end.  Tell me what you think the word “normal” means.  Do you prefer to be “normal,” or do you like standing apart from the crowd?  I want to know, and be free to tell me how you feel.  This is a safe space; please, feel free to speak your mind.

I’m new to this whole blogging thing, so this is what I am doing.  I am going to pick a topic to write about every day.  Anyone who reads this can respond if they want to, about the chosen topic. Today’s chosen topic is divorce; a topic that impacted my life.  I was 8 years old when my dad left.  It never occurred to me that my  parents were divorcing permanently until Christmas day, 2004.  That was our last Christmas together as a family, even though we did not get to stay the entire day together.  When the snow hit that Christmas Eve night, I actually had hope that my parents would stay together forever.  I went to sleep waiting for Santa Claus, hoping that my dad would be there in the morning.  Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, my dad decided to take my brother and leave, and we never had another Christmas  together again.  The one thing I can remember is constantly wondering why my dad left on Christmas day.  Why did he decide not to stay?  My dad didn’t know God like he claimed to.  As a 10 year old, I tried my best, but I felt like he needed to put in some effort as well.   Although I felt it, I was not responsible for my parents’ relationship - they were.  I was not responsible for my father’s choices.  He was the example.  He should have made better choices, but he ran away to avoid his own discomfort.  He should have chosen to man up and be a father anyway.  Growing up I was always told to call my dad. I was practically forced to.  My grandpa wanted me to talk to him as much as possible, but it didn’t help that I had to be the one to call, and not my dad.  Since I didn’t have a cell phone, I had to use my mom’s phone.  The only way my dad could contact me is when he called my mom and talked to her first.   I was tired of making all the effort so I stopped calling.  Part of me felt like it was my fault my parents divorced.  The other part of me was angry at my dad for leaving in the first place.  I was so angry I didn’t want anything to do with him. I would wonder why my dad would seem to love another woman instead of my mom.  I was confused.  I didn’t fully understand how love worked at that time.  I had read in the Bible that couples stay together and loved each other for their entire life.  That was their vow.   As hard as I try to bring back our relationship, my stepmom continues to interfere.  I call and leave messages, but he never receives them.  I don’t know for sure what the problem is, but I think she could possibly be erasing his messages from me.  This was confirmed when I called my dad on Father’s day to have his “wife” answer his phone.  She told me he didn’t want anything to do with me, and I shouldn’t bother calling again then she hung up the phone.  She’s as lost as he is.   She’s not as wonderful a woman as my dad makes her out to be. I believe that she is insecure with her relationship with my dad.  Deep down, she knows how much I mean to my dad, and out of fear and jealousy, she interferes. Divorces are tough and painful not only for the adults, but also the kids.  When you are as young as I was, not a lot of things make sense.  You might ask yourself, “What is going on?  Why is Mommy crying? Where did Daddy go?”  These questions went through my mind constantly.  Even though the divorce was painful, I personally believe my story has made me a stronger Christian woman.   Through faith, I realized that I did have a father who would never leave me.  He was always there even though I couldn’t see Him.  He would never leave me for someone else. He would never divorce me.  He is always by my side.  That gave me hope that I could grow up to be stronger than anyone ever thought I could be stronger than my biological dad thought I could ever be.  My dad once told me that if I lived with my mom, I would never be able to have the life that I deserved.  That was a complete lie.   Through God, I have learned that my life is exactly how God planned it.  Whether I completely understood His plans or not, everything that happened was for my benefit.  Anyone who has gone through a divorce in some way, shape, or form is not alone.  The road is rough and bumpy, but because of God's never-ending love for us, we are all over-comers.   When it comes to school, things can get tough.  You could have multiple assignments and various tests along with your own personal problems.  This can get stressful, but no matter what life throws at you, God can help you back up again.  He is always right there when you need him even for the littlest thing.   I call myself an over-comer, because that is exactly what I have done in life.  I have over come many difficulties, and it has only just begun.  

TONIGHT! IM PLAYING SOME SONGS AT ALONGSIDE @graffititech & @dylijens ! WITH LIVE PERFORMANCES BY @nagchampadc & @creatorsinfinite #SAFE_SPACE 241 DRINKS! COME FRUUU