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Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Minimalism: How Many Is Too Many Books?

I saw someone online mention that her favorite color as a kid was "rainbow," and now it's "galaxy." So I guess she just added black. I mentioned that I had my Lesbrary arranged by color, in one big rainbow, and that it looked beautiful and she should try it. "No," she protested, "I have thousands of books. I couldn't find anything!"
That's a lot of books. And I can understand it too. Books are especially hard to get rid of. They contain stories or information that you're afraid you'll need or want someday. But if you're anything like me, too many books can be overwhelming. More than with things or clothes, my books function in my mind as a "to-do" list. They "expect" to be read, and I feel bad for them when they're not.

I don't really buy stuff anymore. I go online and buy cheap books. They take almost a month to get to me, but the price is right. I have to really want it, to pay more than four dollars for a book.
My goal used to be to have a majority of LGBT-themed books in my library (mostly nonfiction), and I did not feel at ease until I managed it. If I was going to be a minority in society, having to go to work and see hundreds of straight couples over a tax season, I wanted my books to be majority gay. I would never have thought of getting rid of even one gay book. If society collapsed or we lost power or I didn't have spending money, I wanted access to many gay books.
But now the majority of my books are homosexual, and a few are transgender. (Yes, I think of books as attracted to other books or transitioning to other genders. Some people name and assign genders to their phones and computers, I do this. It's just for fun.) But joking aside, most of my books are about LGBT subjects. I try to avoid books about discrimination and violence, though. I want books that are positive, helpful, and gay.
But now I get rid of LGBT books. Just the ones that I don't like or that I don't want to read again. I'm able to get rid of LGBT books, because I have so many other LGBT books. This is what happens when you have enough of your favorite category of books. You become more comfortable letting go of the boring or less helpful ones, because you have plenty of others.
I have about 150 to 175 books at any one time, though I am always getting new ones and getting rid of old ones, so it's hard to keep track. I used to think I wanted thousands of books, but now I have plenty of my favorite categories, so I don't need that many.
I've also realized that I would rather read my favorite stories over and over, like Timekeeper by Tara Sim and Dreadnought by April Daniels, than to read something new but boring. So the boring fiction goes. Sometimes I don't even finish it. I don't have to keep things just because they are LGBT fiction. It has to have something more also, like science fiction or fantasy themes.
 And I've learned that you become faster at getting rid of books, when you have other books that you love. When you have your own idea of enough favorite books, you become more comfortable throwing out the others. You also become better at realizing quickly that you don't like a book. (I used to write down the books I got rid of, to make it easier to find them if I wanted them back. I don't feel I have to do that very much now, but this idea can help you start to part with your less-favorite books.)

You don't need stuff when you have enough books that you love. Shopping would take money away from books, and you can't read clothes. I wonder how many people shop because they're bored--because they don't have their favorite topic as intellectual stimulation.
So many people think that they have to have a variety of different topics, in order to have an interesting library or to keep their own interest. But there is so much variety of subjects within any given category. And some people are "divers," meaning that they want to know all they can about one topic, before they can move on--if they ever lose interest in the first place. (This idea comes from Barbara Sher's I Can Do Anything (If Only I Knew What It Was)). You may need most of your library to be on one topic, not many!
I think being a "diver" is more common than most people realize. For me, my diving subject is LGBT studies. For my mom, it's natural health, and natural health for animals. I once asked her why she didn't want books that were more fun. She said that reading about health, for her, was fun.
For my dad, it's guns and knives and other things having to do with survival in the woods or in/after any apocalypse. Both my parents have had books on these subjects ever since I can remember, and both of them now also read extensively online about their chosen subject. This may be where I get my obsessiveness from, but this is also what makes me happy--focusing on one thing for years or more at a time.
And it may be the same way with you. What is your passion with regard to books and learning? What is the one book you've been most excited to come across in your life--and what did it talk about? Thinking about this may actually change your life. It has for me.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

LGBT: How To Stop The Hurtful/Religious Voices

I am reading a great book, Loving Someone Gay by Don Clark. Written in 1977, the only things that seem outdated in it are the legal restrictions and (some of) the general lack of support for LGBT rights and even safety. He even has an entire chapter devoted to what is good, specifically, about being gay.
But in every book which tries to provide an overview of gay life, there is extensive mention of violence, discrimination, and religious abuse. It's great for ignorant straight people to know about these things, but I hate being reminded of them. I try to make everything I write positive or helpful, and I want everything I read to be the same way.
Every time I read of violence and lack of legal rights and protections, or even sometimes when I'm not reading anything at all, I hear all the hurtful things that have been said about LGBT people in general, or to me in particular, back when I liked to talk to people online. They are mostly religious in nature, for me. It's the idea that, after all my years of effort at being a good Christian, now I suddenly don't love God and never have, that hurts me the most.

And though I didn't come out to him yet, I talked to my homophobic uncle on the phone the other day, mentioning that I was afraid of him as a child (which is very much true). He shocked me when he said, "I'm sorry you were afraid of me...I wouldn't hurt you for the world." That meant a lot to me. There is a lot more than sexuality, that has been left unsaid over the years, but if he keeps this up, I'm going to talk to him when I call my grandparents (he lives with them) and slowly reveal more and more of myself.
Since talking to him, the tone of the "hurtful voices" inside my head (though they are not auditory illusions, just hurtful thoughts that I have to struggle through) have changed. It used to be his voice, primarily, that would hurt. Now it's others, strangers and preachers who just don't care whom they hurt. All of them are still religious.

And I'm not sure if this is a good change or a bad one. But I find it interesting that there are always hurtful voices ready to rush into my mind. I take out one, or nearly all of one, and the others fill his place.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore. "Stop!" I said aloud. "Stop hurting me!"
And they quieted. The religious arguments against something I didn't choose, didn't go away completely, but I got a little bit of a respite. But I don't like that I had to say, "Stop hurting me," to myself. Especially after all the effort I put into affirmations and self-love.
People try to tell me, and themselves, that their hurting me is right. That it is from God. But they're not in my life. I've done everything I could to eradicate them all. So why are their ghosts still here?

Hurtful words always echo. You can speak directly to the echoes ("Stop it! Stop hurting me!") or you can try to silence them with self-love ("I love myself. I'm a happy gay person.") Sometimes your self-love can be louder than the echoes, other times you have to more directly silence them.

I used to give in to the urge to argue with myself, thinking that I would be ready if someone challenged me, and that that was the way to silence the "voices" that told me I was sinning just by liking myself as I was, and not loathing myself enough for something that I didn't choose.
But the thing is, after a long time, I was still arguing with myself. The voices just kept coming, sometimes the same arguments over and over. It was so tiring. I made a solid argument in favor of my happiness and well-being, and it wasn't enough. I was still struggling. I got the impression that if I was the only person left in the world, I would still be struggling with homophobic voices.
So I started saying to myself, "I'm having trouble with this," and trying to let the toxic voices just float through my head like water in a stream, washing itself away. My mom had told me years ago that it helped her to relax for sleep if she tried not to "grab onto" the thoughts in her head, just let them float through. I tried to use this technique to relax for life. I pictured myself tying them onto an imaginary balloon, and letting go up, up, and away.
And sometimes it helps, though I find that I need a variety of techniques to combat the negativity. What works one moment, won't work the next.
Typing up my arguments also sometimes helps, though I don't want to publish them, because I want what I write to be positive, not defensive or negative. And I certainly don't want to trigger anyone else's hurtful voices. Or give the impression to future (homophobic) readers that I'm up for a debate about my right to live and be happy.
But if you don't overdue it, sometimes it helps to type up your arguments, in an effort to get them out of your head.

I have never seen any kind of LGBT material devoted to stopping the homophobic, often religious voices in your own head. And yet that is what I struggle with the most. I don't struggle with my own thoughts of me being worthless--I struggle with other people's thoughts of me being worthless, or wicked, or deceived.

So I hope this has helped people like me. In summary:

1) Tell those voices, whether they're hateful or well-meaning, to stop hurting you.

2) Focus on loving yourself, and speaking lovingly to yourself, in general.

3) Acknowledge that you are struggling, and let the negative thoughts drift away into the clouds. Don't "grab onto" them.

4) Type up your arguments, if nothing else works, to get them out of your head.

5) Again, love yourself. Be easy on yourself, because it takes a long time to get over religious abuse. Love yourself even in the struggle.

I hope this helps anyone struggling with unhappiness, whether LGBT or not. Be kind to yourselves. You deserve it.