Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

  I grew up convinced I wasn’t going to be able to make anything of myself. I was taught I was unworthy, worthless, and that I wasn’t even ordinary. I wanted nothing more than to make my parents proud, carve out my own path and convince myself I was a somebody. I realized I wasn’t just a somebody, I’m me. And that’s a good thing. If you would have asked me ten years ago where I would see myself today, you’d get an answer of a Baptist wife, mother and hopefully using my love for piano to make music or even teach a Sunday school class. I remember when that last one became impossible after I made waves in my past church. I wanted so much to be considered as a candidate to teach young teens and specifically wanted to focus on their self-worth, but that never happened. Now, I look back and am glad, because I would’ve encouraged rebellion in the ranks (you can laugh here; I am). Teaching others while my journey was just beginning and heading in a different direction, nonetheless, wou...

  Much of my life has operated around this broken and problematic thing called black-and-white thinking. It’s how my beliefs were ingrained into me, how I made my decisions and the lens through which my emotions were translated. One thing was either one way or the other, and there was never any middle ground. It was either wrong or right, black or white, good or bad. There was never an in between, no place for doubts or unanswered questions. Everyone around me displayed this mentality, and because children often mimic the adults in their lives, I, too, grew up with much of that mindset. Even after leaving fundamentalism that thrives off such thinking, those thought patterns have unfortunately followed me. While trying to find my views, my values, and my own way, I’ve found that the mindset I grew up with still finds ways to seep into my subconsciousness. For example, humans make mistakes, and a good person can do bad things, but still be a good person. That is just a part of being...