Loss of Interest in Pleasurable Tasks


As I sat down with my new therapist at his office in Brentwood, he introduced himself and asked me why I decided to come to his office that day. I jokingly said, “Because this was the only appointment option open.” We both chuckled in awkwardness knowing I was avoiding the real reasons. He then flipped through the intake paperwork and found the list of symptoms. He began to read through those that I checked off.
“Anxiety, check.” My leg is shaking up and down at this point — I had only been in there maybe 5 minutes.

“Mood swings, check.”  He pointed out that anger wasn’t checked and asked if it were more depressing mood swings. I nodded my head.

“Headaches, check.” He inquired on how long I had experienced headaches. I said, rather proudly, “since third grade.” Migraines also plague me.

“Loss of interest in pleasurable activities, check.” He asked what activities I found pleasurable.  I responded with reading, writing poetry, and blogging. He asked what book I last read, the nature of my poems, and what I blogged about.

The last book I read front to back was the one that inspired my blog about conversion therapy titled It Looks Like This. I have been working on Rob Bell’s What is the Bible?  for a couple of months now but I can’t finish the last 60 pages. I can’t really sit down and focus on the book. It is a super interesting and perspective-changing book, one that many Christians should read. I just cannot find the time, headspace, and drive to read it.

We’re going to jump over my poetry. It’s super crappy and superficial, but it helps clear my head when there’s a lot swirrling around up there.

I got to share about this, my blog, my passion project, my child. I got to tell him about how this formed out of the reveal of my trueself. Before I started, Closeted Michael, I had many blogs, shoutout to Chirstian Kid. I never kept up with it afraid that my voice was just another crappy voice in the sea of numerous blogs and writing no one would read for fun. But now, I have this blog with a niche, with readers who care, with content that matters. I felt like my voice was finally being used for good. I feel like I make a difference by having this blog.

Something that I heard recently by one of my more favorite humans said was along these lines: no one is called to be a voice for the voiceless – we are called to be megaphones for every voice. Some people do not worry about their voices being heard, looking at you Donald Trump, but others aren’t heard beause society has told them they have nothing tosay. So, they don’t speak. Our homeless borthers and sisters have voices. LGBTQIA+ people have voices. People on the margins have voices. Everyone has a voice.

My therapsit reminded me that I have a voice. I don’t have to stay quiet when things aren’t going well. But, I also can’t steal someone else’s chance to speak. I am called to be a megaphone not the speaker.

I hoping to work on this blog more over the next few months, and I hope y’all will stay with me. I am wanting to become more of a megaphone and not a voice trying to speak over someone else. I am wanting to feature other voices here and let them speak about what’s on their hearts. I’m no longer an independent; I’m interdependent on all of my brothers and sisters.

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