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CelloChick

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About CelloChick

  • Rank
    Doubter
  • Birthday 07/12/1969

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  • Location
    Chicago, Illinois
  • More About Me
    I'm from Chicago Illinois

Previous Fields

  • Still have any Gods? If so, who or what?
    Anyone but Bible god

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  1. Exactly how I felt after reading the Bible cover to cover! Like I'd been lied to and betrayed. I started reading the Bible because I believed. I wanted more of the loving God I heard about on Sunday. I wanted to be, "in the word," like I heard about doing at church. But, once I started reading the Bible I was appalled. I was repulsed by the cruelty. Lot offering his daughters to be gang raped. Instructions on how to sell your daughter into sexual slavery. The concubine being raped on the doorstep and found dead in the morning. What the hell? THIS foul, filthy, evil crap is God's word? How can this be? If THIS is God's word... then... I don't like God. if THIS is God's Word, God should be tried for crimes against humanity. Wow, did that twist my mind into knots. The more I read, the more disgusted I became. I was so confused and upset. Slowly, I took a step back and asked myself. What does this book -- written by people who didn't have enough knowledge to wash their hands after taking a shit -- have to do with my life? The "you are a sinner," routine confused me. I don't break laws. I pay my taxes. I pay my bills. I'm a good wife. I'm a loving mom. What did I do that was so terrible Jesus had to be murdered for God to accept me? Nothing. I did... nothing. What kind of justice is it for the innocent to be executed, so the guilty can go free? That's not justice, that's... bullshit! "What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus." Wait. What? I don't believe that, either. The more I read the Bible, and really thought about my faith, the less I believed. I tried going to church, singing along, pretending I believed, but it was like trying to un-ring a bell. I quit going to church in January 2000. I'm a lot happier without church. Hopefully, you'll be happier, too. CelloChick
  2. I'm eight years post cancer. It took me six years to put that behind me. It's such a hugh lifequake when you see black circles on x-ray film and hear the word cancer. It just shakes everything to the core. I've learned that grief is a broken spiral. You grieve, and pause, then find yourself grieving all over again. And then there's another pause. More grief. Each little piece of grief brings you out of the spiral, and the pauses get longer. But there's always more grief. It's a sucky process. Sorry to hear about your mom. My mom has cancer and I have to write her an email explaining getting a surgically implanted chemotherapy port to her. I have a port-a-cath in my chest, and she needs one. So, I'm gonna have to be my mother's rock. And it's tough on me. Good thing I'm tougher. CelloChick
  3. Can you smoke pot as an alternative? I keep getting asked this! Makes me crack up laughing. No, I don't smoke pot. I tried it. It helped a little, but it doesn't work as well as people think. The antinausea combo I'm on keeps me from puking 95% of the time. Not bad. And the anti-nausea drugs have several pleasant effects. Like being really relaxed and mellow and a bit hazy on the details. Mostly, I sleep. The shitty part of chemo comes from this horrible metalic taste I have in my mouth. It's chemo screwing with the cells inside my nose and mouth that changes how stuff tastes and smells. It lasts all week and I can't do anything about it. I'm also tired out and I have the chills for a few days. That's the shitty part. The nausea is under control. Thanks for asking! And yes, it was Willow Creek Community Fundie Factory. Loved the orchestra, wow that was fun. No regrets on that part. It was a blast getting to play cello with electric guitars and drums. Now I realize I can go to an open mike night at a bar and jam any night of the week if I feel the need. Hmmmmmm, think I might just do that sometime soon. I had a good laugh this morning realizing if Jack and the Beanstalk was in the Bible, people would believe it was 100% true. CelloChick
  4. Hi everyone! Wow! Thanks so much for making me feel welcome. Such a relief after all the pious crap I put up with for years. Leaving the Christian church was the best thing I could have done for myself emotionally. I don't need people telling me how to suffer correctly. I know my body and I know what works for me. If I didn't, I'd be dead! Instead, I'm still alive and dancing. To my fellow cancer survivor, Jella.... YOU ROCK!!! Five cycles of chemo the way you had it is NO SMALL THING! Holy crap, I don't know if I could stand it. I know how crappy chemo makes me feel. Having that shit in my body constantly pumping would drain me like a flashlight left on overnight. I'm such a chemo wuss compared to that. Plus radiation? I honor your courage, your strength and moxie. My chemo is just a four hour infusion on a Monday. Followed by a week of feeling like shit and lying on the couch in an anti nausea meds induced haze. Then I have three weeks of feeling well enough to have a life. Then it's chemo Monday and the next cycle starts. 22 times sounds like a lot, and it is a lot, but... that's way easier than the five cycles of hell juice that you endured. And coping with radiation on top of it all. WOW am I proud of you! Hugs from me. Dance a jig, you survived cancer! I'm dancing with you. Thanks for all the nice things you all said about my attitude. It took years, but I learned not to let disease be the most important thing about me. It's on the edges, and I don't live on the edges. The important things... I'm a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister and a friend. I love my cello. I love music. Cooking. Computers, video games, my iPod and various assorted electronic gadgets. I love chocolate. Red wine. Tea. I love reading. Dog training. Sci-fi on TV and the NFL. I'd rather spend my life cheering on the home team than whining about how cold it is in the bleachers. It's supposed to be cold and wet sometimes. It's like that in nature and life is like that, too. But, I'm still free to whine whenever I need to. I'm free because I set myself free. I discovered the power of being authentic to myself. Except for when it sucks, my life totally rocks. Not because I'm on my knees worrying about heaven when I die. My life rocks because I have life NOW. And now counts. So do you all. Thanks for the welcome. CelloChick
  5. I’m new. I spent several hours reading anti-testimonies and figured I’d tell my own story. I became a born again mega church attending fundie in 1994. Just typing that is making me want to pound my head against a wall… Anyhow, here’s how I got sucked into church. In 1994, my husband and I were invited to attend a mega church with a friend of his from work. So, we went. The mega church had an orchestra and I play the cello professionally. Up until 1994, I played classical music. The thought of playing something different never occurred to me, until I heard the mega church orchestra for the first time. Drums, electric guitars and an orchestra! WOW! I wanted to play THAT music. Now, I should have known I was sticking my head in a guillotine when I had to INTERVIEW with the conductor, instead of audition. That should have been a clue that something was really wrong. But, I didn’t put the pieces together. I had to be a fundie to play in the orchestra. Fine, I can become a fundie, just let me play. So, I joined the mega church orchestra. Now, I had no background in the Christian church whatsoever. Joining the orchestra felt like being invited to a party, only no one told me it was a costume party, so I showed up wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Everyone else was wearing elaborate costumes. I felt out of place, somehow. Like I didn’t quite belong. It felt like there was some unspoken code that I was supposed to know about, but didn’t. Still, the music was great fun to play, so I did my best to blend in. It all worked well until disaster struck. Two days after Easter 1997, I woke up and I was blind. Not spiritually blind. Literally blind. The muscles in my eyes went haywire. I couldn’t focus. I had double vision. And I couldn’t control the way my eyes moved. The muscles in my right eye cramped. Exactly like the cramp that rockets you out of bed at night, only in the eye where you can’t stretch it. It felt like an invisible wine cork screw was in my eye and some unseen hand was trying to yank out my eyeball like a cork. Pain that had me screaming in agony. Not for a moment, but 24/7 for 14 straight months. Morphine didn’t touch the pain. It nearly drove me to suicide. And the whole time I tried to figure out what I did that was so terrible, god would test me like this. I wondered why god wasn’t healing me. I’d read all the stories about Jesus healing people. And there I was losing my eye sight and Bible god didn’t heal me. I prayed all the time, but I was still in agony. My nickname at church was… Job. And I felt like Job. Tormented by god for no good reason. Fourteen months and 17 doctors later I was diagnosed with a rare, progressive, incurable neuromuscular disease. One of those nightmare disease that only affects 100,000 people on earth. As soon as I was diagnosed, I got medicine that stopped the pain in my eye and restored my sight almost instantly. I’d thank god, but I’m gonna thank Science I got my eye sight back and the pain stopped! I was dancing a jig until two weeks later. Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with cancer. I was 29. My tumor was in my chest, right above my heart. I survived a chest cracking, rib spreading surgery to remove it. Part of my tumor was wrapped around my aorta twice. Am I alive because of god healing me? No. I’m alive because a gifted surgeon painstakingly removed the tumor for nine and a half hours. It took me two years to recover from surgery. I didn’t bounce back. I crawled back. After I recovered from surgery, my rare illness slowly eroded my body. I’m now a part time powerchair user. I’m gradually losing the ability to chew and swallow food and will eventually lose the ability to breathe on my own. I'm slowly dying. There is no cure. I’m 37 and I don’t know if I’m going to outlive my 4-year-old assistance dog. Now, you would hope that the mega church going Christians would have come beside me with deep Christian love and concern, but they didn’t. They lovingly told me, “god never gives you more than you can handle.” “god must know you’re a strong person to test you like this.” “Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Just believe that god has a better plan.” “You can’t be angry at god. The pot cannot tell the potter he’s doing it wrong.” “Remember. The Bible says, I can do all things through christ who gives me strength.” “You have to trust god’s will for your life.” I had a fundie lecture me for 2 straight hours that I wasn’t showing enough faith. “You need to thank god for this storm. Because the storms of life blow us right into the Lord’s lap.” Ew. What a cruel crock of shit! Oh, it all made me want to scream, “If cancer, and blindness, and unbearable pain, and progressive, incurable, fatal, illness is god’s will for my life, GOD CAN FUCK HIMSELF! GOD CAN CRAM HIS TWISTED PLAN WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE!” People just kept spouting this crap, as if that was going to comfot me. It pissed me off beyond words. The cruelty of my fate made me doubt the existence of god. The cruelty of my so-called brothers and sisters in the church cemented it. I left the christian dysfunctional family in 2001. Now here I am, away from the influence of the church and I have more peace in my life now than ever. I’m still fighting to survive, though. I’m a permanent chemotherapy patient. It’s the only thing that slows down the progression of my neuromuscular disease. I’m bald. I’m losing my eyebrows and eyelashes. The chemo makes me puke when the anti-nausea drug cocktail doesn’t quite work. I'm sick one week a month. I’ve had 22 cycles of high dose IV chemo and I’m gonna survive the next 22 cycles of chemo. And the next 22 after that. The chemo makes it possible for me to see and eat and breathe and play the cello. The chemo saved my life and my cello, so again thank Science I’m still alive. I work as an inspirational speaker, composer, and solo cellist, a career that is my bliss. I’m about to record my first CD. And I do it all without relying on Bible god. My life is so much easier since I left the church. I don’t spin in circles wondering why, why, why. My illness is no longer a theological hot potato. It is, what it is. I’ve blended illness into my life like stirring lemon into tea. It flavors my life with a bitter sting, but I’m not bitter about being ill. Illness isn't the center of my life. Laughing and playing cello is the center of my life. However, I AM bitter about how I was treated at church. Right now, I live my life between chemo treatments. How long I have left, I don’t know. I just know I’m living my life as I want. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life praying for bible god to heal me. I don’t want to waste my time jumping through hoops trying to figure out the combination to unlock god’s mercy. I create my own mercy. I’ve learned to be merciful to myself. To calm, comfort and care for myself. To grieve fully. To host a pity party whenever I need one. I’ve learned how to meltdown and then get up and dance again. I spend more of my life laughing than grieving. I’ve learned to handle this disaster in my own strength. I can handle this mess through my own self-determination, inner wholeness and knowledge of who I really am. I’ve survived cancer and battled a terminal illness for nine years and I can do it for nine more. One thing I don’t need is worrying about Bible god’s will for my life and his crazy followers cramming empty platitudes down my throat. That sucked worse than getting sick in the first place. I swear those people were sicker than me. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it. CelloChick
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