Book Review: Bible Gender Sexuality Reframing the Church’s Debate on Same-Sex Relationships by James V. Brownson

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 29, 2023 | About Summer, Book & Product Reviews, Education, Opinions, Queer Community

Bible Gender Sexuality Reframing the Church’s Debate on Same-Sex Relationships by James V. Brownson is the first book I have read on the topic of what the bible says about being queer. I have read the bible and I have spoken to God but I want to read what more learned people have written on the topic. This topic is personal to me because when I was 20 years old I knew that I had a fight inside of me, although I didn’t know the words. Being a late-bloomer, it didn’t bother me, until I found myself attracted to a few ladies I knew. It wasn’t overwhelming, but I didn’t have overwhelming feelings about men either. At the time, I didn’t know the word demi-sexual or even bi-sexual, which explains why I wasn’t rude about my attractions, like my friends were. I always thought their comments about body parts was belittling to the whole person, therefore, disrespectful. I now know that they were probably what is considered, “normal” and I was different because although I might find a person attractive, I am not sexually attracted to them until I have a deep emotional and intellectual bond with them.

I was raised in a conservative Baptist church and I found the scripture that said homosexuality was an abomination. I had other things to do and no real relationships so I stayed busy. I met Karen G Clemenson 10 years before we became engaged. For some of that time I was seeing a Christian therapist and I admitted some fears I had about feelings I was having about her and sometimes feelings I was feeling from Karen. I prayed a lot. Karen was a wonderful friend. I didn’t want to mess that up. In 2014, when I got sick enough that I couldn’t fake it or hide it, she was by my side and never left. She was never overwhelmed. She was my rock. She was my nurse. She encouraged me to find strength when I didn’t know I could. Somewhere in there; in all that bloody humanity we realized that we had a love that was beyond friendship. We were married 11 days later. It will be 9 years ago on May 9th. After a year of marriage and seeing a different therapist I was able to admit that I was bisexual. Before then I had told people I wasn’t gay, I just married my best friend — talk about denial. I am not in denial anymore because the light of Christ is an amazing thing and this book is just one of many that can help shine light on a dark spot.

As many people engage in polarizing debates we must not only focus on what the scripture says but what it means. Throughout history we have come to understand that we must change our discernment of the bible. During most of the bible times slavery was prevalent, yet we now know slavery is wrong. Brownson wants to help the reader understand key points in the bible and history to re-open discussion about same-sex intimate relationships.

Gender Complimentary Argument

Arguments that same-sex intimate relationships violate God’s divinely intended gender complementarity, but this implies that male and female are incomplete on their own and that is not true. The one-flesh union spoken of in Genesis is not a physical one but a kinship one. Adam and Eve were celebrated for their similarities more than their differences so Genesis does not teach a normative form of gender complimentary. The overall context and language of scripture suggests that the one-flesh bond mentioned in Genesis 2:24 is a lifelong kinship bond which is described through prophetic tradition in the Old Testament when we see Gods’ faithfulness to Israel as a marriage bond which is lifelong and emphasizing grace. This same emphasis is also seen in the New Testament.

The reason against promiscuity is that people are not to say with their bodies what they can’t or will not say with their whole lives. In scripture it is clear that one-flesh bond only takes place between and man and a woman but there is nothing in the bible that excludes committed same-sex unions when the other characteristics of the kinship bonds are met. One flesh does not only refer to sexual relations but the relationship, love, social, community ties and responsibilities the relationship creates and supports.

The bible does not teach normative understanding of gender complimentary.

Cultural Norms

The bible was written in an honor-shame culture where public esteem was highly valued and male/female roles were clearly and sharply defined. Western culture is not like this. The need to honor each other is universal but the concept of shame varies among different cultures. The modern world doesn’t understand gender roles as they did in the ancient world. Men are not offended by female bosses. Women are not naturally passive, subservient and subject to passions. Cultural expectations in the old world have no way of viewing the notion of sexual orientation.

There is a lot of patriarchal beliefs or contrasting egalitarian beliefs shown through the bible, however the New Testament illustrates we leave that behind in the New Life we share in Christ. The hierarchy of gender cannot be used today as a form of gender complimentary, which is allegedly violated by same-sex intimate relationships. Many people can argue that what the bible says about same-sex eroticism that ancient world does not apply to the committed queer relationships of today. We need a cross-cultural sexual ethic that includes justice and love that may have relevance for queer relationships.

What is normal in the bible may not have been able to be envisioned by the writers of the bible due to cultural norms. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t consider them.

Procreation & Sex

Marriage does not require the ability to procreate to be valid and the inability to bear children is not a reason for divorce. Reliable contraception has changed how we think about relationship between sex and procreation — increasing the importance of bonding through sex and in some cases replacing the procreative meaning of sex.

The Old Testament does not call for celibacy as a lifelong calling for all people, although it is appropriate for short-term avoidance of sex for holiness purposes. Some people are called to a life of celibacy but not all. If not all are called to a life of celibacy than isn’t it better to allow queer people to marry so they do not fall into promiscuity from their unfulfilled passions?

Promiscuity is rejected because it cannot cultivate a lifelong relationship and spread disease.

Other Benefits of Marriage

In ancient days marriage was important to maintain the responsibility and duties to sustain a household. Now society benefits many ways when people live together in long-term committed unions — taxes, better health are just a few.

Society has interest in supporting marriages in order to provide for care of children but this is not the only reason and this lack of procreative capacity cannot deny legitimacy to queer couples in a stable marriage.

What Paul Says

When Paul talks about sexual behaviors that are unacceptable in Romans 1:24-27 he is talking about excessive, self-centered desire and not normal sexual relationships. He also might be referring to the Roman Emperor Gaius Galigula whose idolatry and sexual excesses earned him a gruesome death.

Paul doesn’t see sexual desire as a sin but if it gets out of control it can become lust and lead to sin.

The core form of moral logic that characterizes sexual misconduct as “impure” is the internal attitudes and disposition — lust and lack of restraint. In committed same-sex marriages, where there is discipline, can we still call this union impure?

The Church Today

The church has welcomed queer folks but abhorred their way of handling their emotions with shame. The church may wrestle with Paul’s words about queer relationships but the real issue is promiscuity and lack of self-control which are not part of committed marriages.

The church should stand against relationships marked by dominance, lack of consent, lack of mutuality, including and especially relationships between adults and minors. The bible verses that speak regarding homosexual or same-sex relations are relating to extreme situations: rape, incest, human trafficking, prostitution, sex with angels, overindulgence, idolatry; of course we, as Christians, should be against this lack of self-control and humiliation of others. This is not the type of behavior celebrated in most loving and supportive marriages whether they are same-sex or heterosexual.

Psychologists recognize a persistent, non pathological pattern of same-sex orientation as a “natural” phenomenon in some people. This phenomenon results from a complex interaction between genetics, hormonal influences and social context and it is causing us to question the “nature” of individuals.

Because we are all one in Christ.

I already know God made me for a time such as this. I know He loves me and He knows that my wife and I love Him and each other. He has not condemned us. It was good to read something from someone that knows more than me, but I already knew I was blessed because when I asked God, once I was able to say, “I am queer,” if I should divorce my wife, He said no.

I got this book from my own collection. You can get your own copy of Bible Gender Sexuality Reframing the Church’s Debate on Same-Sex Relationships by James V. Brownson on Amazon.

Read My Review on GoodReads:

Bible, Gender, Sexuality: Reframing the Church’s Debate on Same-Sex Relationships by James V. Brownson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I felt that Brownson gave a real effort to explain the cultural differences between the time when the bible was written and the way we live now and how we have already made many changes according to how we have adapted to change: like how we view women in leadership and slavery. I appreciate how he studied the scriptures and related articles of the time to look for connections between gender-complimentary as a requirement. He answered the question of procreation as the reason to outlaw same-sex unions, because it is not a requirement for heterosexual unions. He answered the medical proof that many queer people have not chosen their orientation and instead of requiring them to live a frustrated life where they may end up failing away to sin, that honoring loving, stable, lifelong relationships would answer the need for the lifelong love language between married partners that might lead them to another form of the new creation in Christ. It is a good start for some.

View all my reviews

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

For anyone reading this that isn’t a Christian, unapologetically, I am a Christian, but I believe there is room for lots of beliefs and religions in the world. It is not my intent to offend people with different beliefs than I have and I would be open to open-minded conversations with no goals of changing anyone’s mind, but sharing information.

If you are interested in becoming a Christian…Do you know Jesus? Do want the Holy Spirit to fill you and give you understanding and salvation? Ask Him. Want someone to pray with you? Contact me.

Memories Are Bigger Than the Thing We are Responding To

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 24, 2023 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Prayers

Sometimes when we have a strong response to something it is because memories are bigger than the thing we are responding to. The other day I made a post on Facebook because I have seen so many memes and posts with the middle finger and it made me angry. It wasn’t my original post but it was the most important part. It said the important part for who I am now: I do swear but even my wife says it sounds weird coming out of my mouth. I have heard that often in my life. I do like fancy words better. My Nana always said there were so many beautiful adverbs to use instead of vulgarities. I agree with her. My one peeve that I can’t get over and it is getting worse is the middle finger. I think it is the trashiest thing one can ever do. Talk about low class not only to the person being flipped off but by the person doing it. It’s like you have decided to use one perfectly good finger to shut off all communication.

Since the day or two since I posted it, I seem to be fighting in my head again with real memories and feelings that have to do with the person I hate the most; the person that seeing “the bird” reminds me of. These are big statements. One, I have allowed myself to blame Anna for some of my behavior but as I am taking responsibility for my wellness, I realize that Anna is me. She is sometimes younger than me, but she is still me and I am responsible for her. Another thing that was hard for me to face this morning was that I have hate inside myself. I didn’t think I did. But after really paying attention to my memories, my responses to these memories and what I really want from my analysis of these memories, I do, in fact, have hatred inside myself. I know that forgiveness is a process and even though I have chosen to forgive many times, there are specific things I have tried to set down, I have failed.

A part of me wants to write a raving article about the terrible things this person did to me and my family. How their self-centered actions, time and time again hurt me, terrorized me, and made it impossible for me to ever trust them; even when I really tried hard to honor their role through marriage to my father. She stole things from me that cannot be replaced. She instilled things in my family that can not be forgotten. Her “helpfulness” was usually a way to get what she needed. But she knew how to pet my father, who deserved to be petted.

If I allow myself, this blog will go forever with accusations. I don’t want to live like that. I have to remember that. I have worked really hard to learn how to choose peace. It is no surprise that this lifelong problem has been lying in wait for me when I thought I had figured most things out. That is when foundational issues usually come out. I feel depressed because I have found myself guilty of holding hatred and unforgiveness for most of my life inside of me. I am talking to God. There is fear of letting this go. I don’t know life without this hatred. I am grateful that He has brought me to a place where I can finally take stock. I am grateful that we have walked through similar walks before and I know that when I am ready to let go, He will told me together. I am even grateful that He loves my step-mother and wants her wellness too because I don’t have to like her, I just have to forgive her.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

New Survival Skills

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 22, 2023 | About Summer, Opinions, Prayers

I was triggered today. Even though I may be ready to graduate from therapy, doesn’t mean that I don’t have moments when my PTSD isn’t still in the room with me; when I suddenly feel the dread, fear and victimization that I felt growing up. I still have to deal with the child inside of me that didn’t get what she needed. I was on Facebook, randomly scrolling, as on does when I saw a meme that said: “People with siblings have better survival skills because they’ve had experience in physical combat, psychological warfare, and sensing suspicion activity.”

I suddenly remembered why I quit playing with dolls; because one sibling always pulled their heads off. I was saved by Cabbage Patch Kids because you couldn’t pull their heads off…but then again, I remembered watching TV and suddenly have piercing pain in my head as the nose of that sibling’s bald headed Kyle Blakey came down on my head. Or the sadness I felt when my Margaret Elizabeth and Weston Carlton got makeovers with the blue ball point pen that never washed off by an artist of the same name as my sibling. There were more dangerous things they did; more deadly. I never had peace. My parents didn’t physically abuse me but they also never did anything to protect me from the sadistic behavior of this sibling who thought it was ok to chase me through the house with a steak knife more than once. I was bigger. They didn’t believe me. They probably didn’t know what to do.

The list of hurts kept going and I tried to make it stop. Instead I decided to focus on a bible study. That usually helps me focus on today. That sibling is not in my life.

God’s mercy is enough for me and He has proven His goodness. His mercy is also enough for my sibling. He knows what we both struggle with. Mentally healthy people don’t abuse each other. Mentally healthy people want light and life for each other.

Even though I had a lot of confusion growing up, that is not what God did. He has created peace for me that is what I am looking for and that is what I choose. I have the right to choose this. I also pray this for my sibling.

I am not without sin and never have been. I am not tied to it but as a child I didn’t know that. Even if my only sins against my sibling were in response to their bad behavior, I am sure there were some, in fact, I know there were some and I am sorry.

I don’t know if we will ever have the ability to trust each other. I know we don’t know each other. As I responded to the harsh realities of losses growing up, I shut down parts of myself. I never felt safe to be myself at home. Maybe my siblings felt the same way. Maybe even my parents felt the same way. I know this meme was supposed to be a joke, but it was a reminder that physical combat, psychological warfare and sensing suspicion was part of my life, every day, growing up and I have the scars to prove it.

Now as I have learned to make decisions, I am choosing to have a life of light and peace.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Never Considered

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 16, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

I never considered that there would come a time that I would end my therapy. I have had at least 2 mental breaks in my lifetime. I was smart enough to be able to fake enough balance that I didn’t end up confined. I know that would not have served me well. I am thankful that the people I kept close to me knew that too. My last one was the biggest and took me a long time to overcome because it happened at the same time that my body too was overwhelmed. Since 2014 I have been fighting for myself. Sometimes harder than others. I am not done. There is more to be done but my therapist told me yesterday that it may be time that I graduate out of therapy.

I am stunned.

I am overwhelmed and then I am not. I take my wellness seriously. I have made many changes. I make changes. I will keep making changes, gradually, because that is what works best for me.

When I began my session yesterday I mentioned that I had decided that I was done fighting with the voices in my head. That the voices of people that weren’t real because they were not in my life and they had to go. It had taken me a long time to realize it was all in my head and I had the power to tell them to go away. I had help. God helped me. When they snuck back in through dreams, I asked God to bless them and keep them away from me. I asked God to love them and give us all a good nights sleep. I trust that if God wants reconciliation between me and the real people, God will orchestrate this. I don’t have to make anything happen and I can trust that because God loves me and these characters more than I ever could, or they could. I believe that God will make the heart and mind changes happen so that we can see each other in all our humanness and forgive each other and have an authentic relationship without gossip and backbiting and other hateful habits that don’t show love.

My therapist told me it was time to update my treatment plan. But I couldn’t think of what that would be. She couldn’t suggest anything. She listened to what was on my mind and suggested that we give me the space of considering this until our next session. So I am talking about this with Karen G Clemenson. Who also seems surprised that I might be ready to graduate out. I don’t think either one of us considered there would be an end to therapy.

I asked my therapist about my medications. That scared me because I know when I don’t take them. They slow me down so I can remember my tools. The same tools that seem to be working so maybe I don’t need therapy anymore, or for at least this point in my life. She said that my psychiatrist would still meet with me and maintain that part of my treatment.

I know I should be happy for me. Part of me is starting to feel that. Part of me is also feeling a bit of satisfaction because I think I knew I was coming to this point. There is a quiet I am getting comfortable with that I have never had. I have learned that I can make boundaries. I can say no. I can say yes. I can say what I want. I can be me and not worry about if that offends because I know who I am. I like myself. I am not perfect at this but I am sure that this is what you practice as you live. Loving is not just for other people, it is for ourselves too.

The thought of not needing a therapist is new. I have had this therapist for a couple of years and I really like her. I like her because she doesn’t waste words or time. She is direct. She is what I needed. I trust her. When she told me that fighting with the voices in my head is a mental illness issue but the other things I worry about are normal things to worry about and not mental illness. I thought: I healed myself…I might be normal…whatever that means.

In the end I will miss my therapists’ affirmations of my choices but that is what I have God, Karen and Jamie Holloway for…it is the success I never considered. That is part of self-love too.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Have Been Learning Me

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 10, 2023 | About Summer, Cancer, Life, Opinions

I have been learning me diligently for about 20 years now. It might be odd that I didn’t start until I was in my mid-20’s for some, but it makes sense to me. I lived in a very controlled environment. It didn’t even occur to me to ask myself what I wanted until I was 35-years-old. I am not angry about it. It is just a fact. I don’t believe that age confines us to anything. I believe that age is just a number to keep track of how long we have been here, what is important is what we think and believe.

In fact what I thought and believed kept me in a small and controlled environment because I didn’t believe I could leave. I didn’t have faith in myself. I was scared. In reality I can’t afford to live on my own. The cost of living is well beyond my disability benefits, which I didn’t have when I was living in my controlled environment. Even with a wife who works 2 jobs we have had a hell of a time finding housing that isn’t too close to the industrial area of town or infested with bugs. I can’t live with either. We lived 2 blocks from the industrial area for 3 years and I was constantly sick and terrified with the drug and gang life that surround the area. We lived with cockroaches and bed bugs for 11 months and I came really close to another mental break; I still have flashbacks. I think people that can live in these environments are so brave. I am not brave in this way.

I hate fighting. I avoid it and have avoided it at all costs all my life. I am so thankful that Karen and I agree on this. We don’t fight. We both grew up with fighting. We have fought about 2 times; for real fights. Enough to know we fight the same. No one is listening and everyone is screaming and saying things you can’t take back. So we don’t fight. We take a time out and then we talk it out. Tearing down the team is not on our agenda. But most of the world is not made this way. But as I addressed in Addressing Mental Health Issues, I often fight inside my head with characters that I don’t have in my life anymore, or rather I used to have in my life.

Since I have relinquished these characters to God with His blessings on them, I have been able to sleep better. But they snuck back in through my dreams the last few nights. I tried to ignore them but they were sitting there, ready to fight, until I remembered that I don’t have to live with them and I asked God to take them and love them and bless them and keep them far from me and I feel so much better. I want their wellness and if we are to reconnect, I want God to orchestrate that. Right now I am working on being at peace and I can’t do that while fighting with people who aren’t actually here.

All my life I was told I would never succeed because I was fat. I would never have the job, relationship and health I want because I was fat. I read the books that were put in front of me, I watched and worked out with the videos they placed in front of me; I believed them. But you know what? There is more to me than my fatness. Even though many in the world are afraid or angry with me about my size, I don’t have to be. A few weeks ago I started to think those thoughts because my underwear is falling apart. When I went to the site where I bought them in the past I had to search my purchases because I couldn’t remember the brand and I remember that I really like how they fit in the beginning of our relationship. They didn’t fall down, they didn’t pull, the fabric breathed nice and I didn’t feel too warm. I bought the same brand for Karen, funny enough, I bought her’s 2 years ago, which started me thinking a different thought. Now I wanted to see how long it has been since I bought myself new underwear. You know what? I have been wearing the same underwear for 3 years. I had forgot to replace them sooner. No wonder they are starting to fall apart. It isn’t because I am fat. It is because I forgot to buy new ones…and guess who it getting new underwear next month? Self care is so important.

I am not saying that I should not be aware of my eating habits and working out, but beating myself up about my size is not healthy either. I am very fat. But my blood pressure is always good, unless I am in a lot of pain or angry. My cholesterol is in normal range. My a1C is in pre-diabetic range with the lowest dose of medication. All my blood tests are good. I do have cancer but we are working on that. I have chronic mental and physical illnesses but I might have had all of these if I were skinny too. I recently had a CT scan on my organs and they all look good. There is a little fat on my liver, so I am making a few more changes to my diet; less processed foods, more nuts for healthy fats, but I already don’t drink anything but water, herb tea and maybe a decaf Americano 2-3 times a week. I cook most of our food so I can control what types of carbs and ingredients we are eating; I eat oatmeal with dried fruit and nuts made with almond milk in the morning and that is what brought my cholesterol down.

We did have a treat yesterday though because you have to have treats every now and then. I am so excited that I finally found the pizza of my cravings. For years I have this taste I have craved but have never found it until yesterday. We have tried several pizzas at PieTrio’s Pizzeria and always enjoyed them but it was never perfect until yesterday when I decided to get the BYOP. You can choose 4 toppings so I chose Beef, Salami, Artichoke hearts and Fresh mushrooms. It was perfection! Their crispy crust and the perfect red sauce with the lightest hint of fennel and just the right amount to mozzarella was amazing! Why am I telling you this? Because it made me happy and two thin slices were satisfying and I like to support local business when I can. If you haven’t tried them, you should.

PieTrio’s Pizzeria
614 Commerce Ave Longview, WA 98632
360-353-3512
Find them on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pietrios/

Also the fact that I can occasional enjoy some pizza with red sauce proves that my stomach has healed a lot. I have successfully removed nightshades and kept gluten to a minimum so that on occasion I can have a little bit. Although I love tomatoes, my stomach and joints can’t handle them every day. My stomach doesn’t even digest bell peppers or most peppers. So pizza is a treat, not a lifestyle, which is the way it should be anyway.

Everyone’s wellness journey is personal. What works for one, wont work for another and that is ok. I was at a doTERRA class about supplements, yesterday, and we were sharing experiences and people were suggesting things for my chronic stuff. They didn’t understand that I have been doing this a long time. I have been using doTERRA for 11 years and although I don’t know all their products I have tried almost all of their oils. I appreciated the suggestions and was glad to share that my response to Turmeric is anaphylactic so, no, Turmeric is not an option for me because I like to live. But I did learn about a product that I would never have tried because in other forms it doesn’t work for me but after hearing about how it is working for others for chronic pain, I am willing to try it. Maybe it will help me overcome some of my pain so I can train for the 5K I still want to do…after I have healed from the hysterectomy I will probably be having in the next few months, of course.

I was recently invited to join a group on Facebook that looked like a nutrition group. I hate feeling interrupted by groups but I thought I would give it a try. Turns out is a group to market diet foods based on some MMA from the past. I know doTERRA is an MMA too but it is my only one and I don’t tend to purchase anything but oils and I love their deodorant. My body can’t process fake sugars and food coloring well. It causes my blood pressure to shoot up, sometimes the coloring comes out my sinuses or other weird places. I don’t know if it is the fake colors or the oils they use to make them stick to the powders but I just don’t eat diet food. I am better off with a burger and fries than diet food, in most cases. I gave it a try but I can’t stay in a group that keep showing me pictures of “donut holes” that are “healthy”. That isn’t working for me. I have worked really hard to learn how to learn how to enjoy real food in moderation or learn to enjoy healthier foods to sabotage myself like this.

Now all I need is a … well God knows. Thanks for reading.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

And I Said NO

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 1, 2023 | About Summer, Poetry

Sometimes we can’t see straight until we are removed
The situation is confused by emotions we want to feel
or don’t know how to name correctly
until we do
And often we are far on the other side before we know those words

I remember those days that I thought I would die
because they left me without their love
I missed the twinkle of their eye and their silly dance
I missed the way they played the drums
it always made me move
I missed laughing and feeling like I was home

Their phone call left me wounded
Walking around with a sucking chest wound
was a challenge
Each step a necessity and hope to get back to my aloneness
where I didn’t have to struggle to breathe so much
The tears kept my pillow like a swamp
Luckily I knew how to float on my back

But as I kept walking forward I started to find
the me I had lost while I was absorbed in what I thought was love
but was much more than love
in a way that I had got lost in it and couldn’t see
Because I forgot to love me
or I couldn’t love me and follow their rules

The multiple and paranoid texts while I was at school
The constant and easily triggered anger over anything
I was always trying to counter
The times I gave into what they wanted to avoid their whining
They could kiss me when they wanted but if they didn’t want a kiss…
Everything was up to them

Until they dumped me
And I was alone
And I found me
And when they came back and tried to reengage
I was stronger
I was aware of their abuse
I saw behaviors I didn’t want in my life
And I said NO

Addressing Mental Health Issues

by Summer D Clemenson | Feb 23, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Education, Life

Years ago I was at my friend’s house. My friend and their spouse had only begun addressing mental health issues with their spouse which had the potential to be a danger to them. I don’t remember if they had begun trying to find the right meds yet or not. Just because you start the process of finding medications, doesn’t mean that things get better. It took me several years to find the right blend and we still adjust my medications every once and a while and every person is different. My friend’s spouse has very different diagnosis’ than I do and a very different body. They had broken out in a terrible fight while I was there. The kind where the police might have been needed to bring peace back to the neighborhood because my friend’s spouse didn’t always keep the fights indoors.

One thing that I always respected about my friend’s spouse is that they tried to keep the fights away from their child. In response to the fight, I chose to check on their child, who was wide awake in their bed. They were scared. I sat on the side of the child’s bed and held their hand. I answered their questions. Their parents loved them and each other they just weren’t feeling well right now. We sat quietly and let our tears run down our cheeks until my friend came to let us know that everything was ok now.

Before Jesus came to find me, when I was 5, I never had anyone to hold my hand when the fighting started on the other side of the wall. The characters in my past were not that different than my friend and their spouse. One had the same diagnosis as my friend’s spouse and the other was raised trying to keep the peace and needing to be the provider. We all are Emotional Neglect Survivors and I have been in survival mode all my life.

I was born overly sensitive. I see, hear, taste, and feel things that go unnoticed by many; I always have. I am uncommon. Because I am overly sensitive I was perfect to be the scapegoat and I didn’t get my needs met because I naturally had an overly developed sense of responsibility for others…but not myself. Being a child of divorce, I had two camps and 3 parental figures and they were all, at one time, the scapegoat — at least that is what I can observe. If I keep peeling back the layers, I see that my great-grandparents were immigrants on both sides of my family. If that isn’t a test tube for dysfunction, I don’t what is. Every generation of my family is hard-working, strong, generous, creative, intelligent but there are cracks, as in any family. Some dysfunctional behaviors can be made to look so pretty you don’t realize they are a culture you pass down. I was told by a character in my past that if I am the only one bothered by something, it is my problem.

The truth is I am too sensitive for the petri dish I was raised in. I am not angry about it. I really have forgiven what I believe the characters in my past didn’t know what they were doing, in fact they had no intention of doing. The one dynamic of my past I don’t miss at all is gossip. Rarely did someone talk to me until a small situation was so morphed it was no longer true. Of course I would become enraged. I was only called to do something for someone. I can’t pretend it never hurt to be shown all the pictures of events I didn’t know about, while I showed them pictures of their dog I was watching so they could go…and they would be shocked to learn how much their dog enjoyed the fresh slices of sweet potatoes I gave them.

Why wouldn’t I want to go to the beach? To the park? To dance competitions? The kids’ school performances? Their birthday parties?

Off and on for 42 years I have been in different kinds of therapy…yes even as a small child. As a young adult, I became even more diligent for the last 27 years. I have been labeled lots of things in the last 9 years. Mental and physical. Some labels that were not available when I was a child when many of my issues were showing up. How can I be angry at parents that didn’t know that children could have chronic migraines? Neurodivergent wasn’t coined until 1998…(Social anxiety, Sensory processing issues, OCD are just a few I have always had). For whatever reason the people raising me did not hear me when I tried to tell them things. They didn’t listen to me enough that I quit telling them and so I did not get the help I needed. Honestly, I don’t think they had the ability to hear me. They had their own traumas that were never dealt with, their own physical and mental pains that were never healed because no one knew the term Emotional Neglect until recently. They were taught to work and that is what they did.

In the last 9 years, I have had numerous therapists. All of them told me to separate myself from the characters of my past. I didn’t want to. But I have. There are so many holes in my memory but I have a part of me I call Anna. She remembers my emotions. I am missing a lot of memories. I was in such intense survival mode, I hardly remember high school. I am sure it was great and that the people I went to school with were wonderful, but there are very few I remember. It is hard to have whole parts of my life gone. What is worse — walking into a room of people, you hardly see, and be flooded with emotions you can’t pinpoint. In the last year or so, I have begun having memories return as my brain has been able to heal. The meds and having a peaceful life is helping.

But I realize that there are nights I don’t sleep because I am tormented by conversations that never happened or situations that I am not sure happened because Anna wants to be justified for all these feelings she holds for characters that live in my head because I don’t hold space for them in my real life. I didn’t let the love go away but I had to let room for healing happen. I have to let them go if I am going to have quiet in my mind or any chance and reconciliation of any kind. I can’t get rid of Anna but I can parent her. She needs me to hold her hand and let the tears run down our cheeks sometimes. She needs to be told that I love her and we are choosing peace because the characters of our past didn’t know how to teach us that, but Jesus does.

So I have been thinking about how to let in more air and light. I can’t change anyone but me. I must change how I think because my thoughts are stealing my peace. I wouldn’t let my friend’s child continue to imagine negative things about their friends at school without suggesting some wisdom. I would tell them what my preschool teacher, Teacher Lou said: “If someone is mean to you, play with someone else.” This philosophy has worked for me in many situations. Anna doesn’t need to play with imagined characters and neither do I. If what I am feeling is a real memory that needs to be forgiven or sat with, we can do that, but if it is imagined then I am going to let them go. Either way we will ask Jesus to bless them and give us all good night’s sleep.

Just like any mental health issue the path continues; it never just gets better. Chronic is what chronic does so we learn to dance and move the best we can. Be kind. Be smart.

The Lingering Harm of Childhood Emotional Neglect by Jonice Webb Ph.D. for Psychology Today
Neurodivergent by Cleveland Clinic
Book Review that isn’t a Book Review: Running on Empty Overcome Your Childhood Emotional Neglect by Jonice Webb, PhD with Christine Mussello, PsyD

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Cancer Update February 6, 2023: D&C under anesthesia

by Summer D Clemenson | Feb 14, 2023 | About Summer, Cancer, Life, Opinions

I had my 4th procedure on Monday February 6, 2023. When I say procedure I am speaking of a D&C under anesthesia. My oncologist removed the IUD, filled my body with gas and made my uterus dilate. She inserted a camera to see what there was to see and took biopsies of the tissue in the lining of my uterus and removed any obvious cancer cells. Although it is a common procedure and I have had it 3 other times besides this time, I still was very anxious and very thankful that Karen could be with me until it was time to go to the operating room.

When I am very anxious I twitch in my torso and legs, sometimes in my arms. The anesthesiologist noticed when she came to see me before the procedure and I let her know about my random and involuntary twitching. She told me she had some medicine for that that she would give to me before she put me to sleep.

I hate the ride to the operating room. It makes me feel out of control and a little nauseous, even with the patch they put behind my ear to avoid that. So I keep my eyes closed. The operating room is very intimidating. It seems extremely large when you are on a gurney. Almost bulbous. There are people on all sides of the rooms getting things ready, just for you. You hear all kinds of sounds, music, tools being prepared that sound much like setting a large family dining room table. Everyone has those little booties over their shoes so their feet make that faint shuffle sound with every step. But as they asked me to move from the gurney to the cold, metal operating table all I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears as, what seemed like 5 nurses, all trying to offer their help with my gown and getting my arms in the right spot and getting me centered on the table.

I have skinny and deep veins. It is always a challenge to get an IV in my arms. I know this, so I made sure to drink a gallon of water the 2 days before my procedure and a liter of water before I was cut off from any fluids. It is the only thing I can do to help; making sure I am not dehydrated is all I can control. This day was no different. They brought in the hot packs, they beat on my arms, they had the tourniquets on and finally brought in the special light to be able to see where my veins were. They chose a spot that is hard for the technicians in the operating room, my wrist. If my hand is not perfect the medicine doesn’t go in so someone has to hold my hand during the procedure to make sure I don’t wake up. Usually I am asleep a lot faster but on this day, it took us a minute to realize the arrangement we were stuck with by the phlebotomist. My oncologist came in and flipped my blanket and gown over my face. The nurses quickly said hello to the doctor but obviously more with their eyes, because my gown was pulled down and my doctor said hello to me. I was able to say, “Hello Dr Westhoff,” before I fell asleep…this the fourth time we have met like this, at some point modesty is not on the top of the list.

When I woke up I was being returned to my room. I felt like my vagina had been scrubbed by a pine cone and that pine cone had been shoved in my uterus and was quietly on fire. I don’t remember it feeling this bad after other procedures. I kept telling people how bad it hurt. Unlike other times where I was ready to jump off the bed, get dressed and leave, this time I was not in a hurry, although I wanted Karen to be found as quickly as possible. The nurse told me I had been brought directly from the OR to my room, instead of going to recovery first so this must be the difference. At some point Karen showed up. No one offered me any of the nice intravenous meds I had been offered in the past and if I could just stop the world from spinning, I was ready to go home and be miserable there. I was offered one dose of oxy but I turned it down. I don’t like that stuff.

The next day it was obvious that just as the other times, I had needed to be put under more so I would stop moving. I know this because my throat was burning from the tube that had been put down my throat. I have had a terrible cough since as my throat has healed. I move all the time. I rarely stop, even if it is only small movements. I am sure this makes it hard to do what the doctor needs to do.

This week has been hard. More emotionally hard than anything else. I have been depressed for the last month and let me tell you, this procedure is not what you need to come out of it. I feel isolated and the after effects of surgery for me are not fun. My body does not like to be poked and prodded and there are ways it shows me, both mentally and physically that are unpleasant.

I have been watching for emails from my doctor about the biopsy. I got one a few days ago that said there was still cancer there. I wasn’t surprised because I had been ordered to begin the cancer meds again. We had stopped them after I had the blood clots in my lungs, back in October, so that my body could respond and get rid of them. Cancer meds aren’t fun. I keep telling myself I am lucky because other people have to fight harder with other methods that are more painful…but today I got an email from my oncologist that said we have to talk about radiation.

I didn’t need this today. I am so tired. I am so sick of pills. I am so angry to be stuck in this body. There is always a barrier standing in front of me and I just want a bit of freedom…

…and yet God is faithful and He will bring me through this too.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Nana’s House

by Summer D Clemenson | Feb 3, 2023 | About Summer, Life

Before my youngest sibling was born and my grandparents returned from their wedding in Hawaii, Nana lived in her own little house in Seattle. My mother took us there often. I loved Nana’s house. I was younger than 5 when she lived there. I don’t have a lot of full memories that can be just one great story because I was so young but I have little tidbits of memories, of a little girl, that are worth writing down and sharing.

When we first got to Nana’s house, she was always prepared for our visit. I am sure my parents were ready for a break too. Nana always had a little gift, like a book or a little toy. That was always a fun surprise. Nana was into health and wellness well before it was a buzz word. But she did keep a jar with marshmallows in the kitchen and if I was good, I got one for each hand. I don’t really like marshmallows anymore, but when I eat them I feel like I am with Nana and she is happy, that I am happy.

Nana’s bedroom was blue and so was the ensuite. I thought that was the coolest thing ever! The other bathroom was yellow. For some reason I had it in my mind that I wanted to pee standing up. I don’t know why I felt this was important, but I do remember standing on the toilet seat of that yellow bathroom facing the door and squatting over the toilet. I am not sure if I was successful, but I also don’t remember feeling the need to do that again.

Nana loved her coffee. She would sit at her kitchen table next to the window and enjoy her coffee while she read or did some of her toiletries. I remember she had this little glass bird that was actually an Avon fragrance. I loved it because it fit right in my little hands and it was pretty. I thought it should be mine and I told Nana that. She didn’t agree with me but she let me hold it while we were at the table. That is where I had my first experience with coffee. When she stepped away I took a sip of her’s. It had grown cold and it had nothing in it. Yuck! I was in no hurry to try coffee again. I love it now, but I do take cream in my Americanos.

Nana had the perfect backyard for a little one. You could sit on the back porch and see the entire backyard, so my pre-5-year-old wanderings were perfectly fine. She had a fenced in yard so I couldn’t wander too far, with beautiful shrubs, at least to me, I think there was either a tree in her backyard or directly next to the fence and I enjoyed it. I love trees. I remember Nana had a garden and we would dig in the dirt and make the vegetables grow. Alongside the back yard was the long driveway that stopped in front of the garage. I remember once we were getting out of the car. I always got out of the car after Nana, we were on the passenger side of the car. As she almost stepped out of the car, but she saw a snake and gracefully brought her foot back into the car and shut the door and slid over to the other side of the car. I heard her say, “Nope,” as she exited and helped me out of the car.

On the back porch was a swing that had been my great-grandmother’s; I had called her Grammy. Next to Nana, she was the only other better person in the world. She died of lung cancer when I was 5 and I have almost no memories of her but I do remember telling Nana: “Grammy is my favorite person in the world, but you are my next favorite person, Nana.” I was the first born great-grandchild to Grammy and the first-born grandchild to my Nana and I was probably their favorite person too, at least long enough for another grandchild to be born.

Nana has always amazed me. She was a Boeing executive and a dance teacher. She was graceful and beautiful every time I saw her. She always dressed elegantly and had something interesting to say. She is the original writer in the family and taught me to write letters and thank you notes, to love quotes, expressive words and good books, including the bible. At breakfast she would break out Miss Manners and read to us proper etiquette. She doesn’t answer my letters anymore but I still write them.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Her Needs Were Often Greater Than Mine

by Summer D Clemenson | Jan 23, 2023 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

I don’t remember ever trusting my mother. It wasn’t that she didn’t love me. It was that she was more than one person. My friend Jeff knows the kind, creative and generous woman that most people know and I am so glad he knows that woman, but I know many different women and I never knew which one would show up. I knew a woman that was also a child that I needed to parent. Her needs were often greater than mine, in more than one way.

Mental illness comes in many forms. The paperwork I found in her desk said Borderline Personality Disorder. BPD is a real monster. It tells the person who has it they are nothing and deserve to die; that everyone hates them. People with BPD often lead productive lives because they can throw themselves into work but that is where they spend all their energy and home is where they are exhausted. They tend to have insomnia, obsessive behaviors and a particular person they release their frustrations on. I am my mother’s person.

When I was little, before my parent’s divorce, my father was my only stability. He protected me from my mother and my younger sibling’s behaviors. He taught me to find things to do to stay constructive. He taught the androgynous mind in my head how to find answers. I didn’t think like my mother and siblings. I was more direct and assertive. But when he left, I had no one.

My mother was scared of so many things. She had to look good and right in front of everyone, even when it was impossible to do so. That put a huge toll on me because she relied on me to make sure I helped her do this. It was implied while my parents were married, but it was obvious when she pulled me into her bedroom when I was 9 to tell me that my Dad was leaving and they were getting a divorce. That was the day I became her actual therapist, housekeeper and babysitter. That was the day my childhood was over, although I found moments to play even through high school.

I skipped being a teenager.

I should never have been left with my younger siblings. I was only 3 1/2 years older than my younger sibling and 5 1/2 years older than my baby sibling. I was angry. I was probably already having migraines and showing signs of Anxiety Disorder…but we didn’t know about that until I was well into my 30s and 40’s. My siblings did not respect me and neither did my mother.

Although I was not respected, I loved my family and I wanted my siblings to be safe. I took the abuse in place of my siblings. I thought I was doing them good. Now I know I may have only been making things worse because I really don’t know their stories. They certainly have stories of an angry and abusive sister. As the one that always felt responsible for everyone, it is hard to place the responsibility where it belongs and leave it there.

While I grew up, I was told I hated my mother, but I loved her with everything I had, while I often felt unloved. I was told I didn’t respect my mother, but I was never respected for keeping decent grades, helping with the house, my siblings and later with bills. I was called terrible names and told I would never succeed in life and every ache and pain was because I was fat…even my doctors don’t say that. Hugs were unheard of unless I was falling apart. I never told anything to my mother because she always called everyone she knew to tell them, sickness, success, bad behaviors, nothing was sacred or not needed for her to get the attention she needed. Even being sick…I didn’t let her take me to the doctor when I needed to go because that would turn into a something about her while I nursed myself and then when anyone else was sick and I didn’t think to take care of them, I was told I was not compassionate.

My therapist says it is amazing that I can see the many sides of my mother and appreciate the complexity of her. It isn’t that I don’t love her or respect her because I have great love and respect for her. I think she is amazingly talented and intelligent. She has built a life for herself on her own that I hope makes her happy. But I am also terrified of her.

Terrified because the sound of her at the door makes me feel like I need to jump up and find something to be doing when she comes in so she wont yell as much. Terrified because she will find several things to criticize me about and she doesn’t have to follow any of the rules I have to follow. Terrified because I know she will tell everyone she knows about our visit, even if I ask that not do that, and not only that but she will bring her stories to tell, that I don’t want to hear and she will expect me to be the therapist I have asked her to get for years.

Terrified because she is going to make me guard the boundaries I have to set, like a well-trained guard dog and I really just want to be a daughter. I disconnected from my family several years ago, not because I didn’t love them but because I was tired of being “othered”. I don’t deserve to be left out, cancelled on and given a separate set of rules.

Note: Anna is very agitated lately. My mother has been emailing me and Anna is running amuck. She has decided I have to start telling my stories. To be honest, I don’t remember a lot of details, but Anna is keeping me awake at night. The Last Time I Saw Him bought me 2 nights of rest. I am hoping this will bring me a few nights of sleep…

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

The Last Time I Saw Him

by Summer D Clemenson | Jan 21, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

The last time I saw him on purpose was because my niece had invited me to her graduation from high school. I will do anything I am able to do for my nieces and nephews and they know it. They were my reason for showing up; they had been for years. Each of them hold a piece of my heart.

It had been a hard and expensive week. We were living with friends because we didn’t make enough money to rent our own place. My niece had also invited us to her last ballet, which we had gone to a few nights earlier and then come home. Traveling is very hard with my disabilities so this night we had booked a room at a hotel in Marysville, Washington.

This day we had come to town in time to meet for lunch. I was excited to see my oldest nephew, since he does not answer my attempts to communicate. I threw my arms around my 6 foot tall, purple haired, adult nephew, that I haven’t seen in a few years, who announced he is bisexual…I totally don’t care…so I told him to hug me, and then I met his boyfriend. My youngest nephew was also there, I also hadn’t seen him in a few years and I was so excited to see him and hug him too. I was eager to place myself in the middle of the tables to face them and my niece, who was sitting close to her grandmother, to hear what they had to say about life.

I could feel opposing energies from either end of the table where my parents and one of my siblings sat and my another sibling and her spouse sat. We were still adjusting meds for me and I was trying to not crawl out of my skin. The stress from my step-mother and younger sibling was so large it almost needed its own room. I didn’t have words for them. I hadn’t had words for them for some time. I was still friendly with my older sibling.

When we left we had planned to check into our hotel and then go over to my older sibling’s house to visit but when you are chronic you don’t always have full control of what your body is going to do. I sat on the bed and passed out. I woke up, barely in time to go to the graduation.

My older sibling has lived in Marysville for several years but I have only learned the areas she has lived in, the houses she had lived in and the grocery stores and shopping centers we go to. We tended to stay at her house when I have come to visit. I did not know the arena we were going to for my niece’s graduation or the busy area around it. The parking was hard. There were lots of family members that came for the event and lots of businesses around the building. We ended up parking about 4 or 5 blocks away from the event center.

I was so tired already and by the time we reached the graduation, people were moving out of the way and offering me disabled seating. I looked a bit rough. I don’t do well in the sun or the heat, let alone being exhausted before a walk. Thank God I remembered my cane. While we waited I could see my family, a few rows beneath us. They looked up at us and waved. I read faces, but I could be wrong, so I will leave it at that.

The ceremony was wonderful. The school did a great job celebrating each student. Afterward we were speed walking towards the end of the building (I didn’t know this would be part of the event) to reach my niece. She was leaving shortly for a trip with her graduating class. It was a big building. I wake up in pain so you can imagine how the pain had continued to get worse throughout the day; Fibromyalgia, Lymphedema and Psoriatic and Osteoarthritis are not friendly…Generalized Anxiety Disorder can be quite a bear too, luckily so far, PTSD had decided to stay home.

I was so thankful I was able to hug my niece and tell her how proud I was of her. That was the point of all of that day.

After she was gone, we all filtered outside, but I was disoriented and I didn’t have it in me to act as though I were well as usual. I was trying to hold myself together and Karen and I tried to remember what direction our car was. No one was talking to us so we had walked away from the group and began looking at the streets and trying to remember the way we came.

My father came up to me and thanked me for coming. He hugged me. Unlike usual I didn’t try to be strong. I didn’t have it in me. I said, “I hurt.” I heard the little girl voice come out that shows itself when I am super tired. My father didn’t hold on like you see fathers on TV. He jumped back. He did ask where our car was. When we told him we didn’t know. He said he had to go get his and ran away.

I always hoped my dad would be like Charles Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie. In some ways he is. He has the work ethic. But he is not the nurturer.

My father has spent his life running from me. At least that is the way I feel. For my birthday this year, my step-mother filled out a card that said they loved me with the obligatory check. Yet they have never sent a get well card, email, or letter. I suppose they are angry that I wont let them call me but I have a phobia of the phone. Our phone calls are always stressful anyway, no matter who called.

I mailed the check back. I wrote a note saying that I had never wanted any of his things or his money, I wanted relationship. I wanted him to show that he was interested in me. But I was tired of waiting and I asked him to please let me go.

I don’t believe that all my parents tried to fail me. I think they did the best they could. But they left me alone a lot. Too much. Thankfully God never left me alone. It is because of God that I can forgive them and be thankful for what each of them has taught me, but I don’t have to continue to be feel rejected or left alone. And that is why I want to be left alone.

God is my true Father. He has always been with me and kept every promise.

I am thankful for my real Father that has known me before He made me and has helped me and continues to help me as I heal from being an emotional neglect and abuse survivor.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I am Allergic to Live Christmas Trees

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 23, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Thanksgiving

When I was little we always had an artificial tree. I am sure part of the reason was because I was a very easily sick child. We started with a very small tree, maybe because my parents were afraid I would pull it over onto myself and then for a short while we lived in an apartment before we found our house on Oak Street when we moved to Longview. Then we got the big artificial tree. I don’t think my parents knew I am allergic to live Christmas trees; it was probably more of an economic choice on my father’s behalf.

The year after their divorce, my mother wanted to try things differently so she got a live tree and new ornaments. I struggled to get the tree into the stand and the lights just so. This job had always been Dad’s job and now it was mine. Yeah! (Not really) Somehow we lived through getting the tree up. I didn’t like the smell and the vacuuming was never ending. And the congestion and coughing was getting worse and worse every minute.

For the entire Christmas season I had to listen to my mother blame my unexpected sickness on a sudden allergy to my cat…Maxine had slept with me every night since she’d moved in and I never had a problem, but suddenly I was allergic to her. I didn’t see the logic in my 10-year-old mind.

Another difference was that we suddenly had to be afraid of the lights. On the artificial tree we could leave the lights plugged in and we never had to water it and the shedding was minimal. My vacuuming time had increased substantially…

Minutes after the tree had been thrown out the back door and the last needle vacuumed up, my congestion had almost completely cleared up…and by the next Christmas a new artificial tree had been purchased.

I have had employees that put up live trees that noticed that I was fine at the top of my shift and my eyes are red and swollen and I was coughing and sneezing by the end of my shift; not optimal when you work at an answering service…We learned to keep some of the doors shut for my benefit and I always keep cough drops on hand. Man was I happy when I saw new employers drag out artificial trees!

So many times people seem so sad for me when I tell them this little truth of mine, but I am not. Since I am allergic to them, the smell does not bring happy memories to me. If you take care of your artificial tree, you can use it indefinitely. I have used the same 6 ft tree, bought at Walmart, for over 25+ years at my home and at many other homes. If you are good at decorating, you can’t tell it is not real and although my tree has never been able to take Xavier’s weight, my mother’s 8 foot tree was able to hold him for a nap or two before he decided that he preferred the lit up sparkly fabric I used to put around the foot of her tree. If she had not run the stand over with her truck, while it was in the garage, it would still be standing. Heck with the help with some fishing line I got it to stand for one more Christmas anyway…

What I miss about Christmas is security and traditions. It seems like Karen and I haven’t been able to have those at the same time for a long time. I wouldn’t trade these years where we have grown and learned so much for anything, while we fixed our credit and Karen has had to make hard choices about her dream business or working and both. Where I have had to be honest with myself about my mental illness and chronic illness and learn to take care of myself and make hard choices about what I need and what I don’t need. We have some security but we still don’t have a lease so it isn’t solid and we don’t have many comforts that so many take for granted and some of the people we know don’t even have what we have and this breaks my heart. I haven’t figured out how to have Christmas traditions where we live, other than music and a few movies.

We are very blessed and I know this. I thank God for this always. This is my biggest prayer all the time! And I know we are very close to some of those things like a kitchen and laundry room that I always took for granted before, but never will again. When this happens, I imagine we will often have someone sleeping on our couch for a few days, or if we have a guest room, in the guest room. It is a good thing I can’t just make 1 quart of soup but always make 6 quarts of stew because I am sure we will have people over and I look forward to board games and maybe getting a dog. I don’t think Xavier will like that idea, but he has surprised me a lot this last year…so maybe that wont be as bad as I think. I look forward to foster kids or just kids…they will find us because we have a lot of love to share.

Cookies and lights can be part of every day. Movies and music can be enjoyed every day and good books and stories are important always. Karen always says we celebrate every day. We say, “I love you,” constantly. We think about each other and try to make each others burdens lighter, however we can. I guess that is Christmas all year. Although I miss having room for a Christmas tree, we have found ways to keep Christmas and maybe next year will be the best year yet! It’s OK if I am allergic to live Christmas trees…at least I am not allergic to Christmas.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Xavier Rock’On

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 22, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

Merry Christmas Everyone! I hope you have everything your heart desires. To be honest I am struggling and with several triggers that I can’t really talk about so I thought I would talk about my cat Xavier (pronounced Javier) Rock’On. He is such a special animal. I am sure that your pets are special to you too. Animals are very special.

Before Xavier came to me I had a dream about a cat that looked like him and in the dream his name was Javier…I like the X better. When my, then, 7-year-old nephew came into the church sanctuary where we were with him cradled in his arms, I was sold. His mother couldn’t have him but I could. The deal was he would be mine but he would be my nephew’s too. When my, then, 4-year-old nephew came over he was sad that he did get to name the cat so I let him give him a middle name and that is where Rock’On came into the picture and it seems to fit.

Xavier has been a handful since day one. He taught me that he was a very sensitive cat and he needed peace, even when his behavior was bad. No yelling or any form of discipline really worked to train him, it only made his behavior worse. He is a biter and he has to rub is paws, either with or without his claws on walls, carpet and furniture…which helped me to have a little peace after I had his claws removed. What did work? Positive reinforcement when he was doing what I wanted and guiding the acceptable behavior.

Luckily he is terrified of heights so he only climbed the drapes a couple times and brought the Christmas tree down once…until he learned it was much better to nap under the tree when we left a space under it for him. He quit jumping on the dining room table as long as I gave him a chair next to me. He stopped climbing on the kitchen cabinets once we gave up the fight on sitting water and let the bathtub slowly drip…he will not drink sitting water…it just isn’t going to happen. He doesn’t eat stale food so I feed him 4 times a day but that also gives me time to spend with him…

In return, because most of his feeding times are times I need to take meds, so he nags me until he sees me take them. He knows when I am having a nightmare and when I am going to be sick so he wakes me up so I can take care of myself. He also knows when Karen has overslept her alarm and gets her out of bed to go to work. He knows when we should go to bed and rallies for bedtime like a Drill Sargent.

I love that he has a personal relationship with me and with Karen. I get to hold him and do all the nurturing things. Karen gets kisses and she is the fun mom that gives treats and plays with him. He doesn’t let us switch places very often. But I have been struggling a lot the last few days. He climbed into my arms and kissed me three times on the cheek. I thought, “Wow! I must be a queen today!”

I have known Xavier since he was taken from his mother and I got to box train him and been there for all his phases. He had never been an overly cuddly cat and he has a lot of boundaries. But he does like to be brushed. As he has gotten older I try really hard to brush him at least every other day because I know it is getting harder for him to reach everything. When I brush him, he tries to keep his left rear leg away from me. I think that joint hurts the most, so I am gentle when I reach around and over to try to brush it anyway, blindly. I am surprised with how cold it is, how much hair I have been removing off of him every day this week, but yesterday was his day for his flea treatment. I always brush him for as long as he will let me on that day because when he licks the solution he shows signs of an allergy to it. I have tried lots of other methods but nothing works like the topical treatment I use, and he is allergic to fleas so we soldier on and if I can brush him for 30 minutes it absorbs into his skin enough that it doesn’t bother him as much.

Yesterday he purposely stood with his left back leg faced to me and I thought that was odd. I began brushing and I noticed that all the things he usually fights me on, he wasn’t fighting me on. Until I found a mat in his fur. If he has ever, had one, I don’t remember it. I tried to brush it out but it would not budge. Eventually I grabbed some scissors and cut it out. He looked worried. He has the most expressive eyes. When I told him everything was ok and I was happy to help him, he waited and the minute it was removed, he looked to relieved.

Xavier has taught me a lot about myself. I am a sensory person too. Lights and sounds are hard for me. Too many people overwhelm me. People that take too much make me flare up and get sick. I go out of my way to protect him from stress so he doesn’t get sick..I am learning to do the same for myself. We thrive in a peaceful place with good music, thoughtful people, good books and lots of love. And it is nice to know that when we need help there is someone there to help us, whether it is to remind me to take me meds or someone to cut the mats out of our fur…

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Hate Getting Gifts

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 17, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

Most people love getting gifts but I am not most people; I hate getting gifts. It isn’t because I don’t like people showing their love but gifts often meant something else for me growing up. Gifts were maybe the only show of affection I might get for months. It might be the only kindness I might get that day. It also might be a useless box of something I hated that I had to pretend I loved or I was a rude girl who didn’t deserve any gifts at all.

It isn’t that I wasn’t loved growing up, I just process love differently than my parents did. There were so many rules after my parents divorced. There were rules when they were married but so many more afterwards. Mom was pretty easy because she knew us. But since they didn’t follow the parenting plan and they fought and always through me I was so stressed out. Christmas wasn’t fun. Dad wanted Christmas lists and you had to have gifts of all different price ranges so he could surprise you and fill your stocking…very practical…Most of the time the stocking stuffers I got were the freebees that my dad’s wife got for buying other things and I gave them away.

You would think things would have changed when we became grown ups and to some extent they did. One of my younger siblings became the planner and I wasn’t invited until the last minute or when I called my older sibling…Somewhere in there I got in trouble for bringing gifts for people because I had ignored the no gifts for adults theme they had decided on because my father and his wife had decided to pay for dinner instead of buying gifts…yet they didn’t care that I couldn’t eat that food because of my food sensitivities and I didn’t care about their rule and laughed as they opened the gifts I either made or bought for them anyway. But I wasn’t ignored…

I have always wanted to be a mom. I still ache to be a mom. God brings me to scriptures about Abraham and Sarah so I don’t know what He has up His sleeve but I have faith in Him…but as my siblings became mothers I found it was so much more fun and easy to be an auntie then worry about trying to be part of their group. I adored my kiddos, my greatest gifts, up to that point. I listened to them and played with them. I tried to encourage them and we always talked about Jesus. I bought all of them their first bibles and was there for most of them when they asked Jesus into their hearts. My greatest joy! I wasn’t trying to be their mom, I always encouraged them to honor their parents and I had to bite my tongue or apologize at times. I am sure with the competition platform we were raised on, my siblings didn’t understand that I was on their side and I wasn’t trying to compete. Our goals were the same to see their kids grow up healthy, safe and strong.

At some point I was completely cut off. I was told by my siblings to not contact their children anymore. I had already been blocked on social media sites so I wasn’t able to see pictures anymore so this wasn’t a surprise.

I deserved some of the rebuttal I got but not the shunning I lived in.

Today I received a birthday card from my father and his wife. I wasn’t going to open it but Karen seemed expectant. All the pink. The I love you…the bullshit. The obligatory check. They love me, but they never email or send a note or a get well card. I know I told them not to call me but that is because when they call me, they yell at me, and I can’t talk on the phone anymore without an anxiety attack, unless it is to the doctor’s office or pharmacy. I loved pink when, I was little girl, but it turns my stomach now, and has since 8th grade, and if they knew anything about me, they would know that…but they don’t know me.

I mailed it back. The check. I don’t want it. I never wanted their money or their things. I just wanted someone to want to know me. I wanted someone to want to see me or talk to me. For years that is the present I wanted. That is still the gift I want.

I like relationship. It is always the right size and color. It is never out of fashion and if it is cared for it doesn’t go bad…but if you don’t care for it….

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Happy Dysfunctional Holidays

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 16, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Prayers, Thanksgiving

We are accustomed to hearing Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzah…and many other holidays this time of year but I would like to wish many of you a Happy Dysfunctional Holidays! Let’s be real, this time of year is far from perfect for many of us. I am not saying I have never had a beautiful memory…like this time I was staying at my aunt and uncle’s house, when I was in high school and everyone was happy, there was no stress and we got a VCR! To top it off it began to snow just as we finished opening presents…

Generally for me the holidays were filled with more than less than perfect moments with divorced parents who never followed the parenting plan and fought constantly, before, during and after the event, through me…I am going to stop there because my stomach is starting to churn.

I had a dream the other night about an old relationship that was not healthy. My friend was a roommate and I loved him a lot but he was a drug addict and he couldn’t keep a job and he was emotionally manipulative. Towards the end of our friendship, I had given everything I had, even our rent money, which instead of giving to the manager, he spent on partying and we were being evicted. These were not the best parts of our relationship; the parts that kept me around. You don’t love someone for a person’s worst parts. Children and animals loved him. He could walk into any group and have a great conversation. He was very intelligent and he taught me a lot of important things. But he was an addict. In the dream I was very aware of this but I had found this one pair of socks that were very beautiful and I wanted to keep them to remember the parts I loved. The rest could go.

I am currently reading a book that I am glad that I didn’t buy and that the library had on hand: Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word by Randall Kennedy. It is an emotionally draining book about a word that is considered a fighting word. I bet by the end I will have the same feeling that I have had on every page I have had as I read the first half of the book…I didn’t need to read this book to know that Nigger is life-sucking word.

You know what word can also be a life-sucking word: Family. To let me be more clear it is the two letter phrase: Dysfunctional Family that is life-sucking because the word family can be life-giving, affirming and foundational in so many wonderful ways. My current family which includes, my wife, Karen G Clemenson, our cat, Xavier, and my sister, Jamie Holloway, is amazing. We are honest with each other. We care for each other and share what we have. We are not afraid to talk about anything and even though at times we may have lied, betrayed and hurt each other, we have been able to work through those times and become stronger and more gentle with each other. That is the life-giving part; the brave part.

But in a dysfunctional family secrets, gossip, abuse and running away is what runs the show. This is why when we grow up we seek out abusive relationships, because that is what we know.

I had a dream about a life-long friend last night that kept interrupting me and was trying to needle their way into my life again, after they had dumped me, again. They had been done this many times through our life. The last time they told me they didn’t want to know me. This time I was going to remember this because I had moved beyond the need to be rejected. So in my dream I told them to please move on because I knew they didn’t want to know me and the dream was over.

What if it was that easy with family?

My quiet moments when I am not filling my time, are filled with memories I haven’t thought about in years. Sad times. Angry times. Confusing times. I know that at least one of my family members wants to reconnect. When I get sick of the memories I pray to God and ask Him to bless these people and me, where we are, and please let us all have a good night’s sleep. It has been working for me. But then they start when I am awake…until this morning, I had a memory over another breakup. When I had realized that this relationship was also abusive, I had said I would rather be alone than be emotionally abused.

So that is the answer.

The plus side is that I am not alone. I have Karen, Xavier and Jamie. There are some other casual friends and the ones I haven’t met yet…and God has always been my real parents. He taught me lots of things when I was alone….and I was alone a lot.

I know this may seem cold but it is actually really brave. There are people I didn’t want to lose that I have lost. Sometimes I feel like part of me is gone but then maybe she wasn’t the best part of me. It is brave to say, “Here and no further,” to someone that has had many opportunities to know you and yet doesn’t want to. They have been invited and didn’t show up. They have been called and didn’t answer or call back. They have made plans only to cancel. It is ok to finally realize who is your real family.

Once you do that you might be stuck with some memories that are painful but just keep giving them back to God and thank Him for the “socks”. Merry Christmas.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Her Name is Anna

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 8, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

I met her in my twenties, when I began really digging to try to find freedom from what was wrong with me mentally and spiritually. I had read somewhere about asking this part of yourself that seemed to be its own personality, questions and having it answer with your non-dominate writing hand. She told me her name is Anna. She was very angry and scared and she wasn’t going anywhere. She told me she was 5-years-old.

A lot happened when I was 5-years-old: I met Jesus, my grammy (great-grandmother and favorite person) died, I started first grade, and my mother became pregnant with my youngest sibling. There is probably more but that is the big stuff and those are just the main details; each of those events having their own events to go with them.

I don’t think that Anna is only 5. I think she ranges in age from 5 through teenage years. I think this because of what she seems to do. I have spent a lot of time trying to get rid of her, trying to understand her and now trying to learn to live with her because she wont leave, she wont grow up and she wont give up her job. Anna’s job is to hold my emotions and my most painful and scary memories from growing up.

Unlike Veda, which I named, hoping I could control and seem to see leave more quickly. Veda is mainly depression and she doesn’t live here. She visits. Anna lives here and she waits quietly until she is reminded of a situation that is too similar to ones she has lived through before. She screams and cries in my head when she is upset, which is very distracting. She invites Veda. She also brings nightmares since she lives in my subconscious.

Often I am able to parent Anna, reminding her that we are here now. That we are safe, I can create boundaries and that the people that have hurt us or misunderstood us are no longer in our life, are not here, and they wont be able to hurt us anymore. She usually calms down in a few days but the time she is active is very blue for me.

This is the hard part of the year for me and Anna is more active and I had a family member reach out to me. They were kind and hopeful. I asked them to pray for me. They are hopeful for a relationship. I did not promise anything because I can’t. But Anna is terrified of them and 3 other people they are connected to either directly or indirectly. It has been an emotionally painful few days which leads to more physical pain…

I always try to find something positive in my situations so I decided to look up the meanings of the names that came to me for these parts of myself. Veda means wisdom in Sanskrit and is popular among followers of Hinduism. Anna is widely used among many countries but is found in the Latin meaning grace. I don’t feel as though I purposely chose these names because I remember when they came to me and it was very impromptu. But what I find fascinating is that wisdom and grace are the things I am always asking God for.

Depression often comes when we have been trying to carry something on our own, so it would make sense that I would need to rest and realign where my strength is found and this takes wisdom. Although Anna makes my life frustrating she does cause me to ask God for more grace because it isn’t her fault that she was emotionally neglected and abused.

When I think of relationship with family members I really don’t know what that looks like. For years I tried to engage but I am very different. I am very sensitive in every way: lights, sounds, foods, emotions, manners. I don’t care for current pop culture, and really never have. I hate gossip and prefer to hear about people from themselves and never from anyone else. I don’t care for TV. Because of all these other things I don’t do small talk well. I like to dive into deep conversations and debates. I am not a surface person. Groups are stressful to me because I like to give my attention to 1-3 people exclusively. Because I was often left to myself growing up and I love children because they have no agenda other than to be loved and heard, I find myself getting in trouble with parents because I listen to their children and then tell them things they missed.

I have been told I am hard to please but actually I am super easy. I don’t care about fancy things and money is useful but I don’t care about it either. I like time and conversation. I like people showing up or returning my cards and letters or calls. I love authenticity and honesty. I have been criticized and left behind (rejected) so much by all of them that I don’t see any reason to try to add them into my life. I am not going to stop being fat any time soon, or opinionated and Anna is not going to change, she has made this abundantly clear. So even though all the children have grown up, the advice I gave is still being held against me, according to the last conversation I put myself through. Right now I am parenting Anna. She needs to know that I hear her. She needs to know that I have her back and we will proceed with caution in whatever direction we go in.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Sometimes Trust Can’t be Fixed

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 1, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

I told my therapist, yesterday, that I am sure I have forgiven several people in my life completely. The part I am struggling with is that you can forgive someone, let’s call them “Person A,” so many times and then it becomes apparent that they are not a safe person for you to be around because they keep hurting you so you are forced to create a boundary that says Person A can’t be in my life. The really hard part is that because of the dynamics of a particular group of people, you now have to remove yourself from the group of people because the relationship between Person A and you and everyone in the group doesn’t let you just remove one person.

I would love to try to have a relationship with Person B and Person C but they are too close to Person A and Person B is married to Person D and I don’t feel safe around them either. There are more variables but that is too many letters and we will both get confused. It is just easier to stay away but it does make me sad; sometimes it makes me angry.

People say: Oh well, it is the holidays! or Oh well, it is family, get over it!

My therapist said that trust is a hard thing to fix. I told her that I realized that I don’t trust women because the closest ones to me were manipulative towards me. She asked me how that manifests in my life. I said I have 2 close friends and I am married to one of them.

We agreed that it must take a lot for me to allow someone to really get close to me.

Am I writing this so I can whine and complain? No. I am writing this to encourage anyone that has been hurt that it is ok to look at your wounds and realize truths so you can work on them. I am talking to God and my therapist about my concerns. I am creating healthy boundaries for my mental health. I am continuing to affirm my value and maintain my self-care.

Some relationships can’t be fixed, but the relationship with myself can be.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

What Was His Name?

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 22, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Prayers, Queer Community

I have been reading through Genesis lately and there is a ton of history in there but there are a lot of lists of names too. They are tedious. I usually read out loud and Karen, my wife, will be listening and every once in a while she will say: what was his name?

My answer is always, that was the best I can do. I have not been to seminary and I haven’t spent hours with people that are scholars that know how to pronounce the names in the bible so I do the best I can guess and I move on. I do the same with the names of the towns and the rivers and mountains.

I couldn’t sleep for a while last night and I was up thinking. I was considering some of the lists I had read the last few days. God does not tell every story about every person listed in the bible. He inspired the writers of the bible to a few choice people. But He did inspire the writers to put seeming endless lists of names in the Word. These lists don’t give hints to how to say these names. They don’t give anything away about the character of these people, their favorite things, if they walked with God or if they asked God questions.

But the beauty of God is that He knows everything about these people. Whether our names are in the bible or not, He knows our name. He knows where we came from. When we met Him. What our favorite things are. He knows if we tend to be happy all the time or can be a bit maudlin. He is not intimated by my endless questions…

I couldn’t help but be overjoyed while I lay in the dark that I was friends with a God that was so personal that He knew the most intimate things about everyone and it didn’t overwhelm Him because He is Spirit and He is like a cloud of infinite memory, love and relationship abilities.

I have a friend that has been really hurt in their life by everyone that said they loved them. It has taken years of therapy to help them come to a place where they feel they are healing. There is a lot of pain, anger and many other feelings and memories to heal from. They often post things about Christians that are hypocrites. Their posts make me sad. So sad.

I know my friend knows Jesus and Jesus is helping them. I know that God accepts them and all the judgements that have been made about my friend are wrong, ignorant, unloving and, as they say, hypocritical.

When I married, Karen G Clemenson, I was in denial. I couldn’t be queer. My mind was telling me that I couldn’t be gay. That was an abomination. I just married my best friend. We loved each other. But a year into my marriage, after seeing a therapist who helped me start to accept my truth, and talking to God, I realized, I was queer and I hadn’t lost God. He hadn’t stopped loving me, talking to me, or left me for one second. When I asked Him if He wanted me to divorce my wife, He said, “No.”

Yet when I considered membership to a church, I met with the pastor who told me that he did not agree with the law, but he did appreciate that read the bible. I was welcome to come to their church but I wouldn’t be allowed to be in a leadership position.. There were sincere people that cared about us, but there were other people that were scared of us and I just didn’t feel brave enough to handle their emotions on top of my chronic illnesses. In the end I left because I felt like the pastor was always planning his next missions trip and I had already grown up with a missing dad and it just felt too similar…

Why am I talking about this? Because we can’t know why people do what they do, but God does.He knows all our names. He knows everything about us. He even knows the people that might seem to be hypocrites or evil.

Yesterday I vented a little about Donald Trump. I hope that I didn’t offend too many people. I still feel the way I do about him but I do want him to find peace. I would hope that you could find a moment to pray for someone that makes you feel un-peaceful that they would find salvation and healing so that they would find peace and joy. I would love for heaven to have great joy because many came to repentance.

It feels better to pray for the people that makes us afraid than to hold onto the fear or hate. We were made to love. God is love and we were made in His image so it just makes sense that love is part of our DNA.

If you haven’t talked to God in a while, today is as good a day as any. He hasn’t forgotten your name.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

It Is Time to Increase My Mood Stabilizers

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 17, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions, Wellness

I met with my psychiatrist last Friday and spoke with him about my concerns with things that were happening inside my head that were causing me stress. October through February were the hard months for my custodial parent, so I have a hard time in these months too. Plus the holidays are here and they had their own bag of not so fun goodies. We had kept me at the lowest dose I could stand because the Luvox was giving me headaches but that we before we found proof, via MRI, that I have had migraines for most of my life and began treating them. It is time to increase my mood stabilizers.

I don’t act on what happens in my head. I am in control of myself. Even my psychiatrist felt that that the screaming and crying I hear in my head is a part of myself that remembers the pain and not me wanting to hurt myself or anyone. I do have visions of inappropriate behavior but that is usually when I am angry. I try very hard to not get angry to a certain point. In the past I have blacked out and hurt people. I don’t ever want that to happen again. So when the visions start, which are a precursor to the black outs, I walk out of the room and calm down. Along with myself, I promised myself I would never hurt anyone on purpose a long time ago. Violence is not OK, ever.

As the holidays come closer I have more and more dreams about family members of the past. I think about moments and I feel old feelings. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to. I realized today that I don’t trust women because of the type of situations I was raised in. I don’t have much to say about men either. Most of the time the men in my life were working or doing their own thing, until they were needed. They just weren’t around much.

I was raised by a parent with Borderline Personality Disorder. I found the paperwork one day, by accident. I was looking for pictures for a photo album in their desk. BPD is a terrible mental illness to live with. From what I can remember, my parent put all their energy into working and they did that well. But when they came home, understandably they were exhausted and any self-control they had was spent. That self-hatred that comes with mental illness was there. I often didn’t know what parent would come home. I seemed to have several, of different ages. I don’t have a lot of memories because I have blocked most of them out, but I have lots of fears. That kind of fear doesn’t let you trust. I know my parent loves me and has always wanted the best for me, I also know that while I was growing up there were no reliable treatments for this mental illness. They gave me the best they had, and I know they were the best option available to me, but I still suffered.

My step-mother had her own issues. I am not going to go into a lot of details but she never earned my trust, but pushed it away. I know she had her own trauma experiences growing up. I am not a trained therapist or psychologist but I would not be surprised if she didn’t have her own diagnosis. My father loves her and I respect that but that keeps me away, especially since my siblings are so much like both my mothers. Both women have good and bad qualities but I find myself to be very defensive around them; I am not sure they are able to see the healthy, more balanced version of Summer that I have matured into.

I am hoping the increased meds will help quiet things in my head. I am going to talk to God about these new things I have noticed about myself. I want to get better. For my sake and the sake of people who I have yet to meet. Its ok to need to get help. I am thankful that I have a team that works well with me.

Borderline personality disorder by Mayo Clinic Staff

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Have Lost My Taste For Slapstick

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 14, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Prayers

When I was growing up slapstick comedy was really popular and my mom really loved it. John Candy and Chevy Chase were two of her favorite actors. I have to admit they had great timing. But as I have gotten older and really got to know myself I have lost my taste for slapstick because someone always has to get hurt for someone else to get a laugh. I don’t think it is funny when people get hurt, especially as someone who has been hurt a lot.

We still see a hunger for slapstick in smaller forms today. We call them memes. But I don’t think all memes are funny either. Today I saw one with Ivanka Trump wearing a dress that was similar to one that Grace Kelly wore in a movie with a name that made it easy to tease Ivanka. You know what? It made me sad. Ivanka looked beautiful. According to the meme she was at her sister’s wedding and we should have been happy for them. I don’t want to befriend the Trump family and I certainly don’t want them to continue in politics but why shouldn’t I want them to celebrate a happy moment in their family?

The reasons I don’t want to have them on the news, in my living room, or in positions to make decisions that affect my life are because of the chaos they brought the last time they were in that position. Donald Trump invites negativity because that is what he knows. But if I take a moment in their lives that should be joyful and twist it in the manner that I have seen them do, I am no better than they are and I want to be a person that invites peace and forgiveness in my midst.

I do admit that I was not as emotionally healthy when Trump won his election as I am now. I was unable to say President Trump for the first 2 years of his term and I was hateful and spiteful, at every chance I had to speak or think of him. But somewhere in there I had to find a way to forgive and have peace, for my sake. I needed to stop having an anxiety attack every time I heard his name or heard his voice. It was hard. Sometimes it still is. But as I read Running on Empty and began thinking about how we didn’t even know about fostering emotionally healthy children until now and I was able to see how this would cause me to be an emotional neglect survivor, but this would also make most people an emotional neglect survivor and I began seeing how I needed to forgive a lot of people, even Donald Trump.

This does not change my political views but this reminds me to not let my political views change who I am every day.

Jesus took a few minutes to share a parable when He was with us, I am sure a few of you have heard before: The Sower and the Seed:

Jesus is the Sower and the Seed is the Word of God and the garden is our hearts. Not all of our hearts are ready to accept the Word of the Lord, when we first hear it, or even ever, but when we are ready to choose Jesus, we can let the cares of the world get out of the way so that His teachings can become deep in us so that love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23) are easily found in us and become boiling out of us.

This is the beauty of the freedom of choice that God gives us. We don’t ever have to choose Him, but when we do, we find ourselves letting go of pain, judgement and anger more easily and picking up forgiveness. This doesn’t mean we don’t still need to create healthy boundaries in relationships for our mental, physical and spiritual health. We still need boundaries because we can’t make others make the same choices we have made or in the same time table as we have made them in.

My wife, Karen G Clemenson, and I were watching Christmas Vacation the other night and I was shocked at my mind’s response to the movie. I had put myself in the movie. Instead of enjoying a movie, I have watched hundreds of times, I was seeing myself as part of the family. I saw myself opening the front door as soon as the squirrel was seen in the tree, knowing the squirrel would prefer being outside. I never spoke. I saw myself moving from room to room making sure there was a path in every room so people could walk safely and then I saw myself coming back with a garbage bag to pick up what couldn’t be salvaged. After that I was just plan cleaning. I was just putting things back in their place because someone had to. I was not oblivious to the chaos but I was not part of it. I was not thanked, I was not spoken to. I was just there.

I am not saying I ever lived through a Christmas that was exactly like the one in this movie, but emotionally, I think we could top it, between all the households. I think this is why I don’t like slapstick. When you are invisible it is like being at the brunt of slapstick humor. If it is the day you are visible and you are the scapegoat, you definitely know some pain.

I have been reading a biography about Mr. Rogers and I am finding out that I have much in common with him. This shouldn’t surprise me. Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood was one of my favorite shows, even through high school. When he was a boy and people around him told him to not think too much about things that bothered him, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t stop caring. He cared too much. I appreciate this. I am a person that cares too much too, and I think about how children are affected by what the grown ups around them are doing. I love that I have this in common with Mr. Rogers. He also didn’t like slapstick…

Another thing I have in common with Mr. Rogers is my love for Jesus. I want to leave you with this scripture that is so powerful!

Be blessed!

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Wellness Hurts Sometimes

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 4, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions, Prayers

I have come to believe, from my own experience, and not from any research, that there are many ways to harmony and balance and wellness hurts sometimes. There are more than one type of wellness and these include: physical, mental, and spiritual wellness and all require a certain amount of boundaries, affirmations and expectations of ourselves to protect the one thing we can control; ourself. If we don’t care for ourself then how will we care for others. Jesus told us to give out of abundance not out of want; He told us to rest and find joy in His peace. Those sound like the recipe for boundaries to me…

This week has been hard. Actually it started last week with PTSD flash backs. I didn’t even want to write because I was afraid of what would come out of me. I don’t like to relive things and I don’t like to feed the negativity either. Some of my stories might be told someday but they should be told by a Summer that is in control of herself and not by a Summer that is in torment. I was thankful when I finally had a funny memory, a few days ago about one of my abusers; I knew I was coming out of it. Not all of my life was stressful and terrible. There were good days too.

When one of my siblings was born there was a commercial for Budweiser Beer that had a frog that said,” Bud bud, bud, bud bud, bud, bud bud, Budweiser!” As the older sibling, I noticed that they enjoyed this sound and I often would say the bud part without Budweiser to them to make them laugh. No matter how old they were, or usually what mood they were in, I could get them to laugh if I did this. Even as an adult. When they became a parent, I tried it on their child. I don’t remember if their child cared…although their cousins love it! But I do remember my sibling sitting behind them with a smile on their face, trying not to laugh.

It made me laugh to think about it. I was glad to have that memory after a week of terrible memories that felt brand new. No matter how often I would try to remind myself that I was here now. I was 46 years old and not 9 or 12 or 16 years old. I would pet Xavier who wasn’t born yet and think about that fact. I would remind myself that those people are not in my life anymore because I chose to stay away from them. I would remind myself that I had Karen and she loved me like I always wanted to be loved. It is such a struggle when it feels brand new, but you know it isn’t.

I have a friend that has been going through this too. I was trying to comfort them on Facebook and in their angst they thought I was criticizing them. I had to remind them that I was trying to be supportive. They don’t have a Karen. Part of my strength is that I have a partner that can remind me that I am here now and not there anymore. The hardest part is when she is at work. My friend doesn’t have a partner.

I did contact my therapist last week. She was glad to set up 2 appointments a month for me. She knows between October to February are my hard times. We couldn’t do a second session in October but I have two appointments set up for November. I had hoped I was far enough along in my healing that I could stay at one session a month but real strength is knowing that I need help and asking for it.

This week is a Fibromyalgia flare from hell. I am not surprised. Fibro is connected to trauma and emotions. Fibro is caused by an prolonged psychological stress and genetics, I have both of these factors. After a week of being stressed to the max, I am not surprised that my normal dull roar is now an screaming banshee at times and walking or lifting my arms above my head is an exercise in emotional strength and a shower is a time to cry and pray and when it is over a time to cry and praise God that I made it through. Sleeping is torn between hot flashes, nightmares or stressful dreams where I am in terrible pain and waking in terrible pain. But I will gladly take this over PTSD flashbacks…

I told this to my friend when I was checking in with them on Messenger. I am glad they were ok when I reached out to them.

We all have our triggers. Campaign season is hard on my friend, understandably…Mine are the holidays. I am wondering if I should put a disclaimer out there that I have a weird sense of humor about holidays because until the last few years, I had never had a holiday without fighting involved. I hate fighting.

Karen and I were watching a rerun of Reba, last night and they were fighting over who’s house they would have Thanksgiving at and who would cook. As a child of divorced parents, I thought the answer was easy…have two Thanksgivings. I tell you what, if you are invited to a Thanksgiving at my house and a fight breaks out, I will pack up dinner quicker than a fork can hit the floor and we will reschedule for another day. Holidays are supposed to be peaceful and they don’t have to have anything to do with a day on a calendar, in my mind.

I have been thinking about making a sign to hang near the door that says: If you can’t keep the peace in this home, take a walk, take a nap or take a hike…and I totally mean it.

I have learned that wellness hurts sometimes. There are side effects from important medications and even from a stay in the hospital. My dear sister, Jamie Holloway, is suffering with some terrible wounds caused by water retention she had from her last stay in the hospital. She is exhausted and begging for a break. I wish I could do more than pray and congratulate her for being diligent in advocating for herself. Sometimes healthy boundaries for one person, hurts another person but must stay, for the first person’s mental health. There are times you might have to lose out on a promotion at work because you need to say no to the early morning meetings, so you can have some needed quiet time so you are balanced.

I encourage you to look at your life and see where you can create healthy boundaries and balance in your life even if it is painful at first. When you get used to it, it might be the best thing you did for yourself.

Fibromyalgia by Mayo Clinic Staff

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

This Is My Hard Time of Year

by Summer D Clemenson | Oct 28, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life

I know a lot of people that have a certain time of year that is more of a struggle for them than others and this is my hard time of the year; October to February were the months that my custodial parent struggled and so that is the time that my hardest memories live and I tend to relive them. I need to contact my therapist and increase my therapy sessions to twice a month, instead of once a month, I was hoping that I could stay with monthly but I am seeing that the cycles are repeating, as usual.

I was supposed to get up when my wife, Karen G Clemenson, went to work this morning, but I couldn’t. I fell back to sleep. When she came in for lunch today, she woke me from a dream where I was folding orange inmate jumpsuits. It was part of my duties because I was incarcerated for a short time. They didn’t have jumpsuits in my size so I had to purchase my own. I was being told to take good care of mine so that when I had to come back I could bring them with me. I figured as much. What a dream.

Stressful dreams and nightmares are normal for me but more common in this time of year. I sleep a lot more because I don’t get good rest when I having these dreams, plus with the cold weather I have a lot more pain and that is another reason for bad sleep. When I tried to wake up today Veda was here, that is what I call depression, it implies she is a visitor, instead of something I can’t overcome and maybe she will only be here for a short visit.

I know this visit from Veda was triggered by someone that asked my wife if she was the sister-in-law of my sibling. It shouldn’t bother me but it does. My siblings have made it abundantly clear that they want no part of my life. All those wonderful Hallmark cards that describe sisters are only describing, Jamie Holloway, and in no way will I call my siblings sisters and take away from Jamie who has been there for every fun event, diagnosis and growth moment in my life. I have invited my siblings, I have gone to theirs, when invited, I have loved their children with all my heart, until I was told to stop contacting them and then I loved them in my heart and prayers and hoped that when they were 18-years-old, they might choose to see me.

Longview, Washington is not as small as people think it is. But it is small enough. It has been big enough that I have never run into people I don’t want to run into but small enough that I can hear about people I don’t want to know about. I wish that the one sibling that lives here, that I have forgiven, but I can never trust, would just let me and my wife go. Just don’t talk about us. You don’t want us in person, why talk about us when we aren’t there? I promise you I don’t talk about you. Why would I? I realize I have aired my laundry a few times but I have grown beyond that, now I just want to try to heal and I don’t need any help being reminded of my past. PTSD does that for me.

I am so looking forward to spring when the crocuses and daffodils start blooming!

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

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