Gays, drunks and the Catholic Church
My beloved church says that homosexuality is fine, just not the act. There are various biblical reasons for this, but basically it seems that sex is for procreation so everything else is deviant. This includes oral and anal sex and very definitely gay sex. Seeing that most of my male friends are screaming fags you would think I would have a problem with what the church teaches. I don’t.
See, I always look at the KC perspective, how can I have someone else’s? So, I am an alcoholic. Fact. It’s either genetic or conditioning, but there it is, regardless of cause. Does that mean I have to drink? No. So, does being born gay mean you have to act on it? No.
Doesn’t mean I am drifting around like a judgmental preacher. The many gay people I know and am close to, often feel ostracized by their church. Yet, I know one who was in a Catholic seminary studying to be a priest he has been in a long and loving relationship for about 15 years with a Buddhist. Yet he still goes to Mass and has none of the issues others do with his faith.
As an alcoholic, I also face extreme censure from the church. We don’t do divorce, but discovering your husband or wife is an alcoholic is grounds for annulment. The church believes you have the seeds from childhood and treats like a mental illness/evil.
I think peace needs to be made with whoever you are and the God of your understanding. Many people turn from their church when they find something in themselves that is not compatible. Yet if you were brought up in it good luck finding another God that works for you. Haha. Not easy. I have watched enough people try. The church teachings may be hardcore, but the structure of the church is of forgiveness and tolerance. Some parishioners are not. My alcoholism or someone else’s gayness is not, in my mind, a good enough reason to turf the whole thing. Does that mean that gay people define themselves only by their sexuality? Shame.
I chose Catholicism, after an atheist upbringing. I chose it, despite who I am, what I am and what I have done in my life. I have broken all bar one of the ten commandments and I have been guilty of every one of the seven deadly sins. Yet, I chose this thing and in it, I have found something very beautiful and ugly at the same time.
I cheat and kill….
I need to tell you something I have not yet shared. You know about my booze problem, sex (or lack of it), relationship stuff, work stuff, kid stuff- sheesh you guys probably know more about me than I do about myself. Yet, here is a deep dark secret:
I love games and I cheat at them.
Not card games and stuff. PC games. I am currently thoroughly addicted to Purple Dot’s Sims 2 game. Before that was Warcraft, Starcraft, Caesar (I can always play those old city simulation games) the list is pretty long. I cheat. I get online and I google a cheat for money, each and every time. What does this say about me?
Not good things I suspect.
The crappest is when I have a game like Age of Empires and find the cheats, to discover I can have flying rainbow hippos that annihilate everything. Then I lose all interest. It is just the money I want. Loads of it.
I do play console games but only if in a pinch. We have an Xbox 360 and every game available, but they just can’t get RPG and adventure games right. Those games suck. You can’t cheat. Then I get all excited because something like Ninety-Nine Nights comes out and it looks so damn sexy. Then I get it in the machine and the monsters are so lame ass you want to scream. I hear Halo 3 will be cool, but I am reserving an opinion here.
Artist gave me the ‘I don’t play games’ talk. Well, we got that Xbox and it was like I was widowed for three weeks. Some racing game. Dinner chat:
Artist: ‘I bought a Ferrari today-’
KC: ‘That’s nice.’
Anyway, back to these pesky Sims- This is the reason I am not online at night much. I am Simulating. I wish I could watch them fuck though, instead of this sad fireworks and toes thing I see in the hottub when they get it on. They are essentially Sim Trust Fund Babies cos I found the money cheat. So all they do is laze about, fuck and play computer games. The female one, I am sure, is having an internet affair cos she loves that email, man!
I have killed a few too. Make them shower and immediately change lightbulbs- *bzzzt*. The best is building them into a fenced garden area and watching them die. Eeek more psychosis than I thought there. Then they haunt your house-.
It’s an old game, but they keep making new builds. Can’t wait for the pet one. I will torture some dogs and see if they get tombstones and ghosts.
I wonder, if I build two into a little fenced off area with no food, will they eat eachother? Sim cannibals? Hmmm….
My Sims are calling-.
Tot siens.
Holy Mass and eyebrow crabs
Mass is a biohazard. I don’t do the blood of Christ, cos actually, it is booze. Transubstantiation is all well and good, but I ain’t putting alcohol in my body. Then there is the germ factor. I understand that it is alcohol and therefore the germs from hundreds of people will be killed, but hang on- didn’t they say it becomes blood? Baffling huh? The body, well, let’s just say I hope to God the priest washes his hands before touching the bits of Christ that stick to the roof of my mouth for about 40 minutes. Fecal matter on my body of Jesus is not too cool a thought- What currently has me worried is the Holy Water, however.
Picture it, we are all there to confess sin. Sin frequently involves the use of hands. Most common sin? Probably wanking. Come on, most of us are guilty of that. Or sex. Did you know that something like 60% of people don’t wash their hands after peeing? If that’s the case, how many people don’t wash after a quick jerk-off? Disturbing huh? My head does this thing where I can picture tenacious vaginal fluids or semen, being comingled with the holy water on the way in to Mass. We Catholics do the holy water as we go in and go out. What if I get herpes on my forehead, shoulders or chest? Can you get eyebrow crabs?
Or does the fact that it is all blessed stuff mean it is entirely germ free and harmless?
More importantly, why did God give me a brain that works like this?
When I am not me
There is a brief moment when I am not me, a moment before all the history and facts of what I have done falls into my awareness. The building blocks comprising me lock into place and I know who and what I am. Where do these pieces of me go when I sleep? Why can’t I leave some of them behind upon wakening?
Some mornings I come crashing in on myself, but the ones when I wake up on my own, leaving behind the dream… those days I emerge slowly. A soul putting on the clothes, item by item, of its human existence. Until there I am. Full of memories, hurts, joys, fears- loves. Given a choice I would leave the fears and insecurities behind.
Most days, the blocks, the clothing, leave me feeling strong and prepared. But there are other times- When the me that comes together is not so light. These are mornings when my first conscious thought is a massive fear, or destructive self-loathing. Somewhere, in the place they went to, the blocks and garments become jumbled some days. All I can do then is try not to live that day wearing those clothes.
In those mornings I need to spend more time with God than my cursory daily ritual of ‘Your Will, not mine.’ In those days I have to do a mental gratitude list, proper prayers and maybe read something uplifting.
I work hard to clean up my thought processes, make peace with the things I have not liked about myself, or my actions, during this human experience. Yet, wherever it is that I go when I sleep, something there can rearrange them at times and make the blackness stronger than the light when I come together as I wake.
Today is such a day.
The day I decided looks wouldn’t cut it.
(I am so undecided about posting this particular blog here amongst you vicious piranhas. Done it twice and deleted it immediately. Oh well. Let’s see.)
I was about eleven years old. The local high school was having a beauty contest for kids and we were allowed in our age group. To this day I cannot remember what on earth made me do it. It is unlikely that I really thought anything about it other than that it was an adventure. I was still making bombs with my brother and setting fire to empty plots at that stage. Or playing with Cindy dolls. Yet, there I was, dressed in a red, white and blue frock, off to the beauty pageant. I dragged my best friend Sharon along too.
My dad spoke to me beforehand. He said: ‘I may be biased but I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world.’ Armed with these words I went, feeling positive after all, dad was still on his god-like pedestal in those days. If he said I was beautiful then I must be.
My gran had bought me the frock. A word I detest, but it really, honestly and truly was one. We all lined up off stage, after handing in our names and been given instructions. We were to walk out of the furthest wing, across the stage, to the front and then down the steps where we would wait and watch the others.
I did my thing, smiling cheerfully, walking in my best way. My mom was big on posture so I knew I had that right. Sharon joined me shortly after, flicking her usually blonde, but now green from the chlorine, hair happily.
We watched the other girls all pretty much as confident and yet awkward as us. Then on walked Samantha.
At eleven years old, that girl slinked. She tossed her hair and gave a very un-childlike swivel of her hips. She was in a gold dress. Her brown skin sort of glowing. Her hair all streaked from lots of days in the summer sun. I was milk-bottle white. I have a skin that has never and will never develop an adequate tan. She was 11, but she was sexy.
Samantha won. Of course she did.
That afternoon I sat at home and looked at myself in the mirror and decided, emphatically, that I was plain. I never once thought again that I was attractive or beautiful. Instead I got caught up in being thinner. Maybe that would make the difference. It didn’t, instead my mom threatened to put me in hospital if I didn’t start eating and stop weighing myself 15 20 times a day.
So I just got more and more heady. And weirder. The kid with the spiky hair and black clothes? That was me. The odd one. Somewhat extreme huh? I didn’t win. So what? It wasn’t even like I cared in the first place. I must have been kind of nuts back then even to have taken it the way I did.
I always knew my brain functioned so I took refuge in that.
I have very unusually blue eyes. I was about 18 before I even realized it. I also realize now that I am in fact attractive. It’s only been the past couple of years that I have been able to look at a photo of myself without wanting to destroy it. I have never, since that day, compared how I look with anyone else.
People tell me I am looking great. So I have chosen to just believe them. I can’t see it. Genuinely. I can post my pic up on blog now without feeling like some sort of troll. I have a close friend who I trust that tells me I look good on any given day. I know I dress well. I have good taste and I buy good clothes.
So, what happened? I didn’t suddenly get beautiful. I just became a lot more comfortable in my skin. This is who I am. This is what I look like. It’s called having a sense of self and some modicum of self-esteem. I still have off days. When I look in the mirror and don’t want to do the day. I still feel fat, so I need the scales to reassure me.
I had forgotten that stupid little beauty competition until I watched Little Miss Sunshine. What an impact it had on me though.
An agnostic alcoholic catholic….
I get quite a bit of flak for this Catholic thing. So I thought I would have a stab at explaining why it is not at conflict with me based on the way Alcoholics Anonymous works, and has been working for me for more than four years. AA is not allied with any religion, sect or denomination. It is based on spiritual principles. It always intrigues me that people can be so judgmental over a Church and teachings I get blah bah, sin in the week and confess on Sunday blah blah- hypocrites blah blah- People are the problem not the church. Which is why all churches are designed around forgiveness. Forgiveness has been integral to my recovery from alcoholism. I take nothing from the church that I cannot reconcile to what I have learned and experienced in AA. By the way, there are people who come to AA and after a while get judgmental about how there are people who are not perfect- We are a bunch of ex-drunks, how perfect can we be expected to be? So how is it that the Catholic Church could teach stuff in line with something that saves a bunch of drunks?
The twelve steps of AA are designed with one purpose in mind: they lead you to a spiritual awakening. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s a tried and tested formula. These are not easy steps. When you are a fucked up drunk, this process is quite damn hard.
Here are the twelve steps within my own context:
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol–that our lives had become unmanageable. (so this was my life. Unmanageable. Emotionally anyway)
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. ( it took no great wisdom to accept that I could not get sober on my own, or even control my drinking. So, to start with my higher power was the fellowship of AA itself)
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him. (my understanding of God was limited at this time. God and higher power are easily substituted, so I just did what the group told me. AA works for all people, whether agnostic, atheist, hindu, jewish, muslim we do not proscribe any particular God.)
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. (I did this. It’s very similar to preparing for confession. It’s a list of resentments, which are then examined and the root cause found. For me the root cause was fear of some sort)
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. (tada confession in a nutshell. I didn’t do the first step five with a priest. I did it with another AA member. Those things left me as a result of confessing them. As in GONE. Another person had kept on liking me despite my shit. The burden of this stuff was gone. I laugh when people get all twitchy about the priest being able to see them. I don’t care. The freedom experienced when you do confess your defects/sins whatever is so freeing I could tell anyone and experience the same thing)
6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. (this stuff hurt me. I needed to ‘go forth and sin no more’. By the time I reached this step first time round, I had some vague and nebulous understanding of God as an imaginary friend. I don’t see this as being problematic. The Catholic teaching of sin is just another way for me to see the defects. However, if I use the word sin in an AA meeting I will be in trouble. We use the word ‘defects’)
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. (easy huh? When you can see the stuff that hurts you, why not ask God to take it away? I find that if I don’t ask God, I get worse, not better. Will power fails me.)
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. (this is difficult. I needed help. I had a lot of ex-lovers listed but my sponsor told me that my behavior towards them was done with their full knowledge we were consenting adults.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it. (this is a daily practice. A look over my day- what did I do that was not pleasant. Where was my selfishness or defects of character running rampant? Thank God for cellphones. I make a lot of last minute apologies via sms. It’s not so bad anymore, but I need to do the step every single day)
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. (this means different things for different people. I know some folk who don’t pray, they only meditate. Me, I am a prayer. I like praying. My meditation takes the form of reading spiritual books like AA’s daily reflections or something.)
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs. (this is service. Vital in life.)
The key word in step 11 is SOUGHT. I am an agnostic. But if I am not seeking then I am being an idle bugger. Then I am waiting for God to step in and say ‘hello Miss Chasu, God here.’ What are the chances? I have to seek. I see no other purpose really.
One New Catholic: Me.
Bar a few swearwords and impure thoughts, I am currently sinless. There is not much chance of this state remaining. But having been covered in holy oil and almost drowned by my priest last night, I am feeling pretty squeaky clean. Spiritually.
It was great, actually, lots of candles lit and burning of palm leaves- then we all filed into the lemon squeezer for the real ceremony. It was long, and I wanted a cigarette. My friends and family came along. About 14 of us were due for confirmation and only three for baptism. I still smell of incense.
Baptism was easy- lots of saying ‘I Do’ to the creed and then a promise that I believe in the Church and that everything it teaches, professes and proclaims to be given from God. Which I do. I may have core faith issues around Jesus and the Bible but boy, I love that Catholic church.
The priests all looked so pretty in their sparkly celebration outfits. I swear he wet me more than anyone else. They don’t do full body submersion with adults. Too much like a wet T-shirt contest. Not entirely fitting for the Holy Roman Church.
Confirmation was a bit more trying. I had to kneel down around the altar on marble, my knees hurt like blazes. But, weirdly, once the priest was talking, I lost focus on the physical discomfort.
I got to light a candle off the Easter candle. My candle had the words Courage and Right-Judgment on it. I could do with more of that, so it seemed appropriate.
So, there I am kneeling down and the priest is confirming all of us- my candle in my hands. I nearly set his robes on fire. Well, I would have if he hadn’t forcefully made me move the candle.
Anyway, humour aside, here I am. A largely sin-free catholic girl. Woman. Whatever. And it feels pretty good.
I have never ever in my life wanted to belong to anything. I never have belonged to anything, other than AA and my scuba club. I am a firm subscriber to Groucho Marx’s view on any club that would have him as a member. So, this is a first and it’s very interesting.
What happens when you actually enjoy your sins?
My first confession is going to be a corker. Maybe the Catholics will change their minds about baptizing and confirming me on Saturday night. ‘Sorry, Ms Chasu, but we just can’t have your sort-’
At catechism last night we all got handed these leaflets which are how to evaluate and categorise one’s sin for the purposes of confession. I am not new to this concept and believe it is spiritually sound. Step Five in Alcoholics Anonymous goes: ‘Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.’
It worked, I don’t feel burdened by the drunk K Chasu’s actions, words or inactions. They are done and dusted. I have been sober for four years and leading, comparatively speaking, a clean life.
Anyway, back to the leaflet. There are some minor infringements to do with charity, mercy etc that I need to confess. Imprudent with money um, ya. But the real stumbling block is Purity.
Do I have impure thoughts and take part in impure conversations? Well, ya. And I kind of like it.
Do I take pleasure in porn? Sometimes- I particularly like manga and erotic fiction. I can stop that though.
Do I ever commit impure actions alone? Yes, I frequently masturbate. Do I intend to stop? NO. I like masturbating. Not to an unhealthy extent- but what the hell is wrong with the occasional fiddling with myself or my battery operated boyfriend? Do filthy text messages with someone other than the person I live with count? Apparently so, he specifically mentioned electronic communication and the Internet as sinful if used incorrectly. Bugger!
Do I use others for my own personal pleasure? Um is this not what sex is about? No, I suppose not. But what he means is do I get physical pleasure from anything other than straightforward baby-making sex. YES! Big brownie points are scored in K Chasu’s world by a man enthusiastically going down on me.
Am I faithful to my husband? What husband? I live in sin. And see earlier point about filthy sms. Is it a sin to commit sms-adultery when I am not in fact married or is this all some nasty ball of sin that I am hell-bound for?
Have I been responsible for an abortion? Tricky line this. Catholics believe the contraceptive pill, condoms, etc are all abortive. If I am not on the pill, then I am only doing oral sex- see my point above. Oral sex is a sin. So is anal, or fingers.. ok. I am not going there this morning.
So, as you can see, this is very shaky ground. And I am supposed to confess before they confirm me etc. Maybe I can just lump it together under “umbrella sins”:
‘In the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, amen. Bless me father for I have sinned.’
Priest blesses me.
‘This is my first confession. These are my sins: All of the seven deadlies- about 75% of the Ten commandments. That covers it.’
*sigh*
Should be good for about four hundred Our Fathers, Hail Marys and Glory Bes.
But the problem with confession is that it requires true penance and resolve to go forth and sin no more. Bloody hell. I am in more trouble than I thought.
Are you an alcoholic?
Alcoholism is a disease of self-diagnosis, unless your liver explodes and a doctor ends up having stern words with you. So, part of this self-diagnosis is the 20 questions of Alcoholics Anonymous. When I was about 19, my mother presented me with these questions. I was deeply offended and outraged. Nevertheless, if I was absolutely honest, I answered yes to about four of them. By the end of my drinking it was about 14 yes responses. The tricky part of this is that if you answer three questions in the affirmative, there is a high chance you are one.
Here is the link: http://www.soberplace.com/20questions/
Again, it is about self-diagnosis.
Tip – only alcoholics have black outs. These are not the same as passing out. A black out is a patch of time that is simply gone. You know you were around because you wake up in your own bed (hopefully) and the car is in the driveway. Or your friends call you and say something like “fuck – do you know you puked on that woman’s dog?” and you have zero recollection. I had black outs pretty much from the beginning of my drinking. The memories never come back. Thank God! There are some things I just don’t want to know.
Anyway, have a look if you think you have a problem. Even if you don’t think you might have a booze problem, it can be enlightening.
