blessedarethebinarybreakers

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A Queer Easter Vigil: resurrection after religious trauma

In the latest episode of Blessed Are the Binary Breakers (yes, it's been a while!!), I interweave my own story of deep trauma and hope of healing with Jesus' journey to the cross and tomb. After spiritual harm, how do we rise to new spiritual life?

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Above all else, crucifixion was a spectacle: The Roman Empire’s way of making a show of its brutality in order to terrorize dominated peoples into submission.

If you dared dissent, you knew what end awaited you: You would be stripped of your autonomy, stripped of your dignity, and finally literally stripped bare before a crowd, your naked, wounded flesh a warning to others to comply, or die.

Today, transgender and intersex persons are likewise made into a spectacle.

Our bodies and private medical histories are put on display for others to gawk at, pity, or judge. New laws attempt to strip us of our God-given free will, denying us the autonomy to respond to God’s invitation to participate in the ongoing creative act that is embodied life.

In school and at work, at home and in church, we face every manner of violence. And when these evils wound us to the point of suicide, or when we are murdered, our deaths are lifted up as a warning: “See what happens when you refuse to comply?”

But through the cross, Jesus transformed shame and death into new life. Though he was the one who was stripped, his execution exposed both the evil of Empire, and its ultimate fallibility.

When we dare to be who God made us to be, society’s spotlight may make us feel like one raw wound, exposed and vulnerable. We may even be subjected to social death.

But we refuse to be ashamed any longer for being the beautiful embodied spirits, inspirited bodies that God calls beloved.

Even when others try to strip us of dignity, status, or autonomy, Christ brings us into joyous, abundant life. The cross is not the end of the story.

From "A Queer Easter Vigil: resurrection after religious trauma" on the Blessed Are the Binary Breakers podcast

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evangelicals being like "god made men to do This and be like This and women to do That and be like That that's just how it is" and it's just a picture of a white man and woman following traditional gender norms makes me so insane like you boring fascist fucks. god made 2 million species of beetles. god made whales, ducks, humans, and 1500 other species capable of same sex behavior. god made fish and amphibians that change sexes. god made more than 30 different intersex variations in human beings. god, in his infinite curiosity. wake up!!! fuck!!

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

A guide to NPD for anyone who doesn't understand it!

What is NPD?

NPD, or narcissistic personality disorder, is a mental illness in the cluster B personality disorder category.

NPD usually stems from childhood abuse or other unhealthy childhood situations. In my case, abuse.

What are the symptoms?

Symptoms of NPD include an unstable sense of self, prioritizing yourself, having unstable relationships, having low/no empathy, and depression/self hatred.

These can be improved upon, but disordered thoughts will likely remain for most.

Can pwNPD have healthy relationships?

Yes, with effort and work. Plenty can have healthy and successful relationships. (like me, for example, in a loving relationship with my boyfriend)

We have a to be a bit more aware of how we treat others, but it helps when both the person with NPD and the partner set boundaries with each other. With communication, we can be great partners.

And yes, we can feel love and care about our partner(s). Empathy ≠ love. Empathy ≠ compassion.

Why does the term "Narcissistic abuse" harm pwNPD?

Because of the name, anything said about "narcissists" is also associated with us, even if you weren't talking about NPD. If you were, that's just blatant ableism.

Many of also call ourselves narcissists either just as a descriptor or to reclaim it.

Other terms like emotional abuse, gaslighting, and plenty others describe the same thing without ableist roots. Please, speak out about your abuse, but avoid using ableist terms.

But my therapist/psychiatrist uses the term "narcissistic abuse," how can it be ableist?

Sadly, ableism isn't that uncommon from medical professionals. Plenty use terms like "narcissistic abuse" and other ableist terms.

Why not just advocate to change the name of NPD?

Even if the name changed, it would still be ableist. We have another cluster B disorder that got a name change that we can look to for example of what happens.

You used to be able to be clinically diagnosed as a "psychopath," which has since been changed to ASPD. However, people still use the terms "psychopath" and "sociopath" to refer to ASPD. All the stigma around those words still applies to them.

I imagine similar would happen if we changed the name of NPD. It wouldn't matter, we'd still be called narcissists. And the term would still be ableist because it would still hurt us.

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The word you are looking for is “selfish.” Not narcissist, not sociopath, selfish.

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I love religious queer people so much especially non-Christian religious queer people. I know it can be hard to be queer in religious spaces and hard to be religious in queer spaces but your existence as both religious and queer makes the world better.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Do you have any thoughts about how to deal with guilt spirals? I try praying, which helps in short bursts, but I'm not sure how to get out of the longer lasting feelings. I want to trust God to help me to move past it, but I'm not sure where to start.

Hey there, my heart goes out to you; those spirals are not fun! I'm glad you've found that prayer helps ease them in the short-term — and that you're seeking longer-term help.

My personal experience has been that the only way to deal with frequent guilt spirals is to unpack the underlying shame that feeds them. ...Which is honestly the journey of a lifetime!

But I'm not a mental health professional — my primary advice is for you to find one you feel safe enough with to unpack shame together. I'll list some resources for finding one at the end of this post.

You can trust that God will help you through your distress — and that even in the midst of it, God is present with you, holding you close.

But the most common way that God helps us is through others — we are the hands and feet of Christ on earth; just as we recognize the call to be Christ for others, we must open ourselves to others being Christ for us. God's Spirit gifts us with knowledge, wisdom, and community so that we can support one another. The unique gifts and acquired knowledge a mental health professional offers may be one way God will pour zir love on you.

You may be like me, and largely skeptical that a therapist can help you with your guilt or shame. I've gone through several therapists over the years, and only started finding therapy actually helpful after I started seeking out therapists who practice something other than CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy).

I'm not saying you definitely wouldn't benefit from CBT — its purpose is to identify and challenge negative thought patterns & behaviors, which could indeed help with the guilt spirals. But I feel that if CBT is used it's gotta be combined with something else, because those patterns are just the tip of the iceberg! Plus, CBT fails to take systemic issues into account — all the positive thinking in the world won't help if your anxiety is founded in real oppression, etc. (Also, CBT has been found to not be very effective on neurodivergent people in particular.)

Finding a therapist that fits you:

It's possible it'll take a few tries to find a therapist that actually fits you. Most offer free consults — plan questions ahead of time! You'll want to be as straightforward as possible during this consult; if they're not going to be a good fit, it's best to know asap.

If they say something you aren't sure about, ask them to clarify / expand on what they mean.

Big thing to check is how they respond to mandatory reporting re: suicide — you want someone who leaves that as an absolute last resort. If they sound too matter-of-fact about reporting on someone, for me at least that's a signal I'm not going to feel safe enough to open up a ton, and that I probably won't like their approach to mental health in general.

If you feel you can, bring up any marginalized identities you hold and/or some of the things that bring you guilt and see how they respond. Do you feel respected and understood by what they say?

And if you do end up with a therapist who makes you uncomfortable, or just doesn't click, hit da bricks! Don't do what too many of us do and keep going to them because you're scared of hurting their feelings — they won't take it personally.

Therapist Databases:

Inclusivetherapists.com lets you filter to therapists that serve clients in your state, take certain insurances, and specialize in specific things. This is a good resource for various marginalizations, not just queerness!

The LGBTQ Healthcare Directory is a similar resource to the above, but LGBTQ specific

TransWIN is a database of medical providers who've been vouched for by actual trans patients

The Open Path Collective: If you struggle to find a therapist that fits what you need and takes your insurance (or you don’t have insurance etc.), Open Path lists counselors willing to provide service at low costs, from $30 to $70 per session. You can filter to those specializing in various things.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Wrote a thing! Excerpt below:

Lent calls us to join Jesus in the wilderness: to confront the barren places in our lives, to open ourselves to the suffering of humanity and of all Creation. But this year, I have seen and sympathized with many marginalized people expressing that, given *gestures around at the state of the world*, they feel like they’ve already been living in Lent for months now — and they can’t take forty days more of it.

Author and historian Diana Butler Bass, who lives in California where wildfires have devastated so many communities this past year, expressed it this way in an Ash Wednesday post:

“If anyone tells me that I came from ash and will return to it, I may well laugh in their face. Or cry and never stop. I just hope I don’t hit the priest. Because — read the room, people — we’re standing in ash up to our knees. … In short, the last thing I want or need right now is Lent. I’m nearly Lent-ed out already. I’ve been Lenting for months.”

Maybe you feel similarly sick to death of remembering your own mortality. Maybe the danger that you and your loved ones are facing has been all you’ve thought about for months, and for God’s sake, where is Easter? ...

When self-denial is stressed above almost anything else about Lent, it’s no wonder so many of us are “Lent-ed out.” We are already facing “denial” aplenty: of jobs, homes, and rights…being emptied of protections and our sense of security and hope…Why would we seek more things to take away?

But the point of Lent is not to run away from joy and pleasure — it’s to stop running away from doubt and discomfort, grief, anger, and pain...

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What do you do when you are so overwhelmed with everything going on in the world right now? How do you not slip into despondency?

Hello, beloved. I'm glad you're here. I'm so often asking this of myself, so here's how I've found a way through/forward. It's not simple or easy, but I made it into a numbered list anyway. I know I'm throwing a lot at you (and myself)—but to be fair, you asked a big question. Take what's right for you and leave the bits that aren't—hopefully someone else can take them.

Know and honor why you're feeling all of this. You're present in this world. You're aware of the pain, you're keeping up with the change. And you care, about your own life and others'. These are all such blessings. Love hurts because love reaches out and suffers with the world. The modern world is so big, constant communication feeding us every tragedy from everywhere all at once. But we have the same amount of love as humans have ever had—of course it's getting stretched. Sometimes I barely have enough mental processing for every member of my family, their pain and joy. Give yourself grace to feel it all, and honor the parts of you that can't bear brokenness, that can't process everything. It's because you're trying to do it all justice. 

Root yourself in the world. Remember why you care about it. You need to be praying, reading, cooking, going outside, singing, hanging art on the walls. It can seem cheesy or inconsequential or even inappropriate in the face of tragedy but you have to hold on to life. You have to stay. You're overwhelmed because you're stretched, trying to care about it all—you need places to come back to. You must find what nothing can ever take from you, while cherishing what is fragile. Fascism rises, war comes, sacrifice calls, life is threatened—history rises and falls. And when it does, you must have a life (literally and figuratively) to lose. Don't let it find you empty. Don't do the devil's work for him. Don't come to the end of the road and discover there is nothing worth carrying a cross for.

You're not gonna save the world. You're not (statistically) a world leader or a billionaire. You're (probably) not someone who will end up in a textbook. But you are gonna do something real to save your little piece of the world. Your piece, your own life, what you can see, the people you can touch—that's what you've been given. And you need to feel yourself doing something real about it. A food bank, a sick neighbor, a garden, a support group. Your brain was not made for the Internet (although wonderful work can be done on it). Your hands need to feel the world you're saving, touch the world you're rooting yourself in. Trusting hope is built from seeing something change—not just knowing theoretically. You need to watch a seed grow into a flower, or a belly get fed, or a baby learn to walk. Participate in bigger things, yes. I'm not saying close yourself off. But I am saying you need to commit yourself to stopping war and fixing a hole in the sidewalk at the city council meeting. One of those you can see end in your lifetime (even if it takes a lifetime), and that's the only way you're gonna have hope to work at the other one. Proving your small hopes right (and noticing when they're fulfilled) will ground your bigger ones.

Hope (the emotion) comes and goes, like all emotions. Emotions can be cultivated and worked through, but not controlled. If we depend on a feeling for the work of love, we are at the mercy of brain chemistry and circumstance. But hope is also a skill, a practice. You need to make hope something you do. Make it something overwhelm and despondency cannot crush. Faith, hope, and love are put together in the Bible. They're feelings, experiences—and beautiful ones. But when they go deeper, that's when they save us. Pray even when belief wavers. Care for someone across the ups and downs of relationships. Faith without works is dead—and so, too, love and hope. Or, from a different perspective, faith, hope, and love are themselves works. My favorite bit of self-esteem advice is to think of what I would do if I loved myself—and then do that. It's a fake it till you make it type of advice, but it's also a practical way to do self-esteem, regardless of temporary states of mind. I'm gonna bring that advice here, to hope. What would you do if you had hope, if you believed, if you weren't slipping away? This is the road forward. 

You may have heard the Tolkien quote about deciding what to do with the time that is given to us. This is often interpreted as a life-is-short quote, but I'm gonna put it in context. "I wish it need not have happened in my time." It: corrupt government, mass deportations, police violence, lost human rights, climate destruction. I want to ask, couldn't I have lived in a century with less of it all? But "so do all who live to see such times"—because there have always been such times. And "it is not for [us] to decide" which tragedies our time faces. What is for us to decide? "What to do with the time that is given us." The time, the century, the piece of history. So do something with this time, knowing that you are not the first and will not be the last to be given such evil. There's a post that goes: millions of people lived full lives during the period we now refer to as the Fall of the Roman Empire. I live in a falling empire—or at least, it certainly seems that way, and in my best moments I hope it falls. I did not choose to be given this time, but I was. For everything there is a season, and you may feel uniquely overwhelmed by ours. But this gives evil too much credit. This puts us in the same boat as the people who are constantly coming up with reasons why each current event is the apocalypse. We're not special. The Flood is in the first book of the Bible. Every person who has ever thought the world was ending has been wrong. You're not gonna be the one who's right about it—so take your time, stare it in the face, and carry the ring to Mordor, though you do not know the way (or whatever less nerdy extended metaphor you'd prefer).

It's not on you to be not-overwhelmed all the time, to never slip into despondency. You are an integral part of the world, but not the center, not the only part. Hope gets passed around. On days when you can't move from hopelessness, look to others' movement. Mr. Rogers' mother responded to scary news by telling him, "Look for the helpers." When we're not children anymore, we must be the helpers—but in moments of weakness or uncertainty, return to that child in you, who needs to find the firefighter in the background of the picture of a burning building. You may have smoke in your lungs today. As long as there's one person still breathing, we have a chance. It's not all on your shoulders. When we understand this, overwhelm or despondency aren't the end of the world. They're simply (and painfully) moments of understandable emotion.

To be clear, every single one of these points is something I've failed at. I don't know your personal beliefs, of course, but I will give you the (well, one possible) Christian answer: We all fall short of the glory of God. Christianity is not a practical or utilitarian religion. We aren't given achievable or logical instructions. Pacifism is not an intelligent or safe choice. Loving your enemy is ridiculous and dangerous. Even loving your neighbor is difficult and frustrating. We're given what we're given not because we can just go and do it—but because we must believe in it, live toward it. Christian hope is not optimism or escapism or manifestation. It is not even a provable phenomenon. It is, as C.S. Lewis refers to it, a theological virtue. We know things don't always work out, that civilizations fall. But for perhaps inexplicable reasons, we believe that it is all in the hands of a God that entered time to suffer through that with us. And that Jesus carries the cross that we cannot. 

In yoga, we refer to a "beginner's mindset"—practicing without our preconceived ideas, entering a pose as if it were the first time. If this were your first moment of belief, how would you respond? What if death did not have the final say? What if what is not logical or practical or achievable is nonetheless our calling? Start over. You've already tried the familiar despair. You need something new.

My last instruction to you (and myself, and all of us), is, in the words of St. Peter, to receive new birth in a living hope. The good news—the gospel—is that you don't have to prove things will get better or have a plan to fix a problem or be able to process it all. I've given you some practical ways to continue, and we do need those, but at the end of the day there is something bigger, which is that every bit of love you put into those practical ways is part of Love. 

We pray that the cup passes from our lips, but if we must, we drink. The only way we don't choke on it, don't drown in it, is to be born again from above—and I don't say that in the evangelical way, but in the Jesus way. Barbara Brown Taylor wrote in Holy Envy, "The greatest gift of my second birth . . . was being reunited with my mother—not the first one . . . —but the second one, who bore me from above. . . . If I am born of her, she is my mother. If I am not born of her, she may yet return to me." Hope is a fruit of the Spirit. Birth is painful and jarring and the world is cold. But there is another birth, one where hope lives, and our mother will always return. 

The world may not have the hope you're looking for—which is a real and painful experience, and I do not seek to dismiss that. But when the time that has been given to us is too much to even look at, we need to root ourselves not just in this world, but in the world to come. We have hope because it's something we do, something others give us, something we find little ways to trust in. We have Hope because the world has been overcome. So love it, live in it, die for it. But don't let it convince you that evil is all there is. You know better than that. 

One last thing: Despair in me is so often fear. I shut down because I am afraid of what it would mean to hope, what it would mean for it all to matter, what it would mean to actually believe what I say I believe. I will leave you with the first prayer in Justin McRoberts' and Scott Erickson's Prayer: Forty Days of Practice:

May love be stronger in me than the fear of the pain that comes with caring.

<3 Johanna

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Can season 2 episode 75 somehow be marked with a warning about ableist usage of the word narcissist? Really didn’t appreciate hearing the way it was used that on this podcast of all podcasts without warning

Ah jeeze, I know exactly what you're talking about before looking up which ep that is, because i remember while the person was talking thinking, "oop, gonna have to find a way to edit that out." ...But clearly, I forgot and failed to do so.

I deeply apologize that that usage of "narcissist" was published on my podcast, and that it hurt you to hear. I try to be in solidarity with folks with npd, and to point out the ableism in how that word has skyrocketed in popularity lately by people using it when what they really mean is abusive, cruel, or self-centered.

I'll get to work editing it out of that episode now; give it an hour and it'll be gone. Thank you for pointing it out; I will do better in future. <3

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

A hopeful poem that sort of wrote itself this morning.

tw past self harm & suicidality mention

My therapist asks me to make art for my inner child

but I can't help but find it silly, because  I can't help but take the term literally  and scoff: There is no smaller Me

clinging tight to my tibia, dragged along by my every step;  no infant-self cradled behind my collarbone; certainly no suicidal teen

skulking through the chambers of my heart, slamming into my stomach walls, scream-laughing  as the acid eats at them,  sweating in their eternal hoodie hiding the lumps and curves of a body that betrayed them.

But carrying my mug of tea up the stairs I watch my cat fling himself away from me and hurry down the hallway, tail tucked — as if we've ever done a thing to hurt him. as if I'd upend this hot liquid on his head —

and I wonder: Is there a soft gray kitten curled inside him who is still living whatever secret cruelties he lived out in an overcrowded house  or on the streets he wandered far too young  in the mere half year of life before  he invited himself into our little family?

If I could, I would coax that poor gray puffball out  and bundle it into my arms, safe from whatever harm had come to it — and maybe that's what I'm doing right at this moment of writing — for,  as if he sensed the tenderness I'm feeling,  my boy has just collapsed into my lap  in that funny floppy way of his 

that belies he ever runs from me when I approach with something — anything — in my hands.

As his tongue rasps over scars my teen-self made I almost can imagine that self before me: 

somehow managing to glare  at me from behind my own rib cage while avoiding eye contact.

I would embrace them — but how they'd hate that! I would speak — but I don't know what words would help and which would suffocate them even more.

So instead I'll simply stand beyond the bars of my own ribs — close my eyes  so they can look me over without fear of contact —

I'll raise my arms like Christ, wounds visible  and perfect in a body that outlived death!

I'll let my our flesh  do the talking:

"See, and believe! Put your fingers on the scars on our flattened chest, and know —  deeper than razors' bite, or love denied — We survive! We survive! We survive!"

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There was a time I would reject those who were not of my faith. But now, my heart has grown capable of taking on all forms. It is a pasture for gazelles, An abbey for monks. A table for the Torah, Kaaba for the pilgrim. My religion is love. Whichever the route love’s caravan shall take, That shall be the path of my faith.

Ibn Arabi

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

grant us a Pope who doubts 🕊

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Also, we each play different parts. Don't beat yourself up for not being able to hit the high notes if your part is the low notes (or vice versa, etc.)

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

> go to church on Ash Wednesday

> feel like Christ has pulled apart his chest and nestled me within the warmth and comfort of his own body

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

I have a big forehead. I'm gonna get a good grade in Ash Wednesday, something that is both good to want and possible to achieve.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

ID: God spoke today in flowers, and I, who was waiting on words, almost missed the conversation."

- ingrid goff-maidoff