The Pressure of Coming Out and Why Homosexuality Shouldn’t be a BIG DEAL

This article was originally published on my older blog, Absurd Nerd. I was browsing through it and thought this article is as relevant now as it was four years ago.

As the saying goes, it’s better to just speak up than keeping something buried inside you, waiting until this something becomes so unbearable to keep you it explodes in someone else’s face. Speaking from experience, this is mostly the case… emphasis on ‘mostly’. It’s the case when you accidentally break your mum’s favourite vase and blame your sibling/pet, or when you tell your best friend you liked their outfit when in reality you didn’t. But it’s not the case with coming out being gay.

For most people, it’s easy to just open up and say, “I’m gay.” but living in a world where being different is almost a crime, it’s harder than ever, especially in the present Christian society. Christians believe that, since the Bible starts off with saying the world’s first two humans were male and female, then that’s still the case to date: only a male and female are allowed to fall in love, get married and have children. Despite that being the case, there is nothing in the Bible where it’s opposing homosexuality. Nowhere in said Bible has Jesus ever discussed or merely addressed same-sex marriage.

Going back to the ‘love should be between a man and woman issue: does that mean that the love a parent shows her child isn’t real? Or the love a friend shows to another? When I, pro-LGBT, ask this question to a hardcore Christian, all of them reply with the same answer: “But that’s different!” Why should love between friends, family and people of the same sex be different? What’s so different and ‘immoral’ about it? Nothing. It’s nothing different. During a discussion I had with a former teacher about whether gay couples should have kids, the first thing he told me was that he had nothing against gay marriage or gay couples in general, however he didn’t agree with them raising children as the latter would grow up being gay.

This last statement made me—and most people in the class—cringe. It was like saying that all children born to a man and woman should be straight, when in reality this is mostly never the case. Most homosexuals are born to a man and woman, so why is it that Christians point at gay couples, telling them they can’t raise a child because they might grow up ‘just like them’? Furthermore, children born or raised by a gay couple is also believed, by Christians, to grow up ‘sad, broken’… doesn’t this happen in every family regardless of who the parent is?

Image result for neil patrick harris kids

Searching through the internet, I stumbled upon several pictures of a celebrity gay couple, consisting of actor Neil Patrick Harris and husband, chef David Burtka (pictured), with their twin children, and there was nothing that showed that these children were sad or different from any other children.

The question I ask myself when I see gay couples with their very happy and very healthy children is why is homosexuality a big deal? A bigger, more general question is why there’s a label when it comes to love. There shouldn’t be pinning when it comes to something like love: people are people, not cans of food. There shouldn’t be such thing as being straight or gay or anything of that sort. With several hundreds of campaigns to raise awareness against homophobia, there is hope for a more equal, united world.

Six-Month Roundup 2018 #1 [Jan-Jun]

Greetings everyone! For this post, as the title and banner both indicate, I will be doing a roundup of the first half of the year because can you actually believe we’re MORE than halfway through 2018?! I can’t for sure! So let’s take a look at the ups and downs in terms of my personal and blogging life…


Continue reading Six-Month Roundup 2018 #1 [Jan-Jun]

BeYOUtiful – Week #20

A series on self-love and positivity that will take place every Sunday. Here I will chronicle how my week went with a question asked on the journal I bought in summer 2017 from Paperchase, and a brief idea of what is planned for the upcoming month in terms of the blog, which will be added/removed when done.

Hope you enjoy this series!

Continue reading BeYOUtiful – Week #20

The Skinny on… Stigma

They say to never a judge a book by its cover. And yet, we judge those who look and behave differently from us. By “us” I mean humanity in general. I know many people who don’t judge those different from them.

I am one of them.

Before being clinically diagnosed with depression and anxiety, I was considered a quiet, anti-social outcast with weird tastes in music, books and fashion. I was called weirdo for not interacting with others “normally”. (Disclaimer: I am in NO WAY calling anyone normal. Just generalising…!

What was wrong with this description? The stigma. Since when was being shy associated with being a weirdo? I know shy people who are more “normal” (again, just generalising) than me, and have greater fashion sense than anyone I know. Now I’m not saying all shy people are like this because . . . look at me!

Another myth surrounding depression is that anyone feeling ‘sad’ is said to be depressed. Um, since when?! Everyone gets sad at one point in life, but they are far from depressed in most cases. Imagine this: I was told I was just a ‘sad’ person, then some 11 years later, I was diagnosed. Not all sadness is the same, as much as it isn’t all depression.

If you do think that you have symptoms of depression, please consult your doctor or a psychologist for a proper diagnosis and guidance for recovery.

I can’t believe what I wrote…

It made so much sense in my head, but now, seeing it in writing… I don’t even know what I’m trying to say except to stop stigmatizing mental health.

Yep, that’s the whole point.

Reasons to love Princess Leia

In a world filled with complacent and passive Disney princesses (and technically, Leia IS a Disney Princess now), it’s refreshing to see a lady royal who is so thoroughly a badass.

So in honor of the realist herself, here’s 7 reasons why Princess Leia is the awesome princess that we should all aspire to be.

Continue reading Reasons to love Princess Leia

#ClaireNotes – March 2017

Back on the Treadmill! [Achieved]

This didn’t feel too hard to do as I’d wanted to go back to the gym for months and months. My boyfriend was the one who encouraged me to do so, but on one condition: he was going to be my workout buddy!treadmill2

Being back to the place where I felt most at ease felt sooooo good! One thing was missing though: the usual gym instructor/receptionist, who sadly passed away a few months ago. He’d usually greet me with a smile and would give me a tip or two while correcting my posture (one of my insecurities).

But putting all that aside, I enjoyed every second of it. I had my boyfriend to encourage me and praise my hard work (which I think wasn’t my hardest). I hope I’ll lose some weight while I’m at it! *wink wink*u

My first event! [Achieved]

I’ve already written a post about this, which you can read by clicking this, but here I will speak more about this on a personal level. I went there so nervous I was stinkingblogging-employees1-300x200 more of sweat that my macaroon-scented body mist spray. I arrived at the Beauty Plus store clueless and shaking, but thankfully I was greeted nicely and with open arms. I reunited with an old friend, met a new one and recognised a few bloggers I fangirl about (Alex, this is meant for you, you beautiful person ❤ !)

Overall, I had a lot of fun. I bought a LOT of products and also received an advice or two from a pro makeup artist!

First anniversary with my boyfriend ❤9c5f45042c29dfcf4c93182a5ec748b3

I’ve been waiting for this day since our first date… or first year together coming to a close ❤

I met him last year in mid-March while I was in the beginning of my recovery. I didn’t feel like a stranger around him. We talked and talked and talked a bit more… with a few laughs along the way. Our first day was one of the best nights of my life, because I knew I met Him. The One.

For our anniversary, we went on with our day: work and then gym session, and then we went for a romantic dinner at Mamma Mia restaurant.

What’s in store for me next month?

Stay tuned for my April Notes! XX

“Deleting” The Past

No, no. I’m not talking about pressing the ‘Delete’ button on my old texts or Facebook posts. Or that I am somehow and miraculously going to erase my past…

Well it kinda is. But it’s far more different than that.

It’s my things.

So clothes, books, accessories, trinkets and things like those fall under this category. I never admitted this to anyone, but I was once an impulse buyer. Not of the expensive things, just things. Why? I think it’s because I thought if I had those things they might make me somehow cooler. Or more “myself”.

And before you say that I’m trying to be minimalistic like the vast majority of the bloggers and vloggers out there, let me stop you there. I have so many prized possessions – from books to merchandise and souvenirs – that I think I’d be the worst minimalistic Minimalist to ever walk this Earth.

Over this first year of recovery, I did multiple declutters… “friends”, emails, documents, social media, apps, photos, and much more. Now it’s time to do a physical declutter. So I’ll be selling my things on Depop. I’d done so much donating over the past few years, and right now I’m having some financial issues.

My goal is to sell my things and make just enough money to buy myself a camera for the blog. Now some answers to the questions you might be thinking of asking:

  1. Yes. I do have a job. I’m a TA.
  2. No, I no longer spend as much as I used to.
  3. Yes, I do know how to save money, thank you very much. It just never seems enough to get me by the month.
  4. My monthly fees include phone bills, doctor appointments, medications, 3-5 card lessons, transportation card, resources for work, photocopies for work, and many little bits and bobs that can easily amount to a lot of money.
  5. I need the camera for both my blog and travelling.
  6. No, I don’t have time for a side job, expect if it involves writing, because if so I’m up for it!
  7. Are you thinking about me setting up some charity case for my camera? Because I would… but then again, who would donate for a camera for a blogger whose followers don’t exceed a three-digit number?

So as a thaks for anyone who follows my blog, I will be giving a 10% discount if they want to buy something from Depop. How? Simply let me know your favourite post and/or leave a message with BLOGLOVE10 and you’re set!

So that’s it from me, see you on the flip side!

PS. I was also thinking of setting up requests for proofreading things and maybe writing pieces for a small amount of money? What do you think? Do I need a degree to proofread something? Let me know as I’m clueless about this.

“It all just got real…” – My Journey to Being Diagnosed

I led a normal childhood, as far as I can remember. I was the imaginative, creative weirdo who loved her imaginary friends and playing soccer. I had really good friends of both genders, played well with everyone and the teachers mostly loved me. However, I always had the same problem: I thought too little about consequences of my actions, but was preoccupied with what people taught of me: always was and probably always will be.

I had a normal, happy childhood

There was nothing weird with my family. My parents are your average, strict hard-working parents who wanted the best for their children, and my older sister was… well… an older sister. She means well, I know, but sometimes she can be a bit harsh. But in a good sisterly way, I’m sure.

Fast forward to when I turned eleven: when the problems started. I was moved to all-girls secondary (high) school. I had no friends except for one a year above me (who’s still my best friend to this day… TEN YEARS LATER!), and I always sat with my sister during free periods. I had acne, low self-esteem and a reputation for being an outcast. I went from playing and talking to everyone to being left out, getting picked last for team work and talking to nobody but my sister and my best friend. During secondary school, I used to think I had depression, but brushed it off. The idea never stuck. Me, former class clown, depressed?! Nah!

I only ever liked three subjects at school: English, Italian and French. Having three languages was no walk in the park. I loved writing stories in English and present them to my teachers, who all told me the same thing: “You have talent”. I used to hate my French teacher for the two years that I had her, and never did my homework. She told me I’d fail, but I always got good marks in French. Italian was a different story. We were a tight-knit group, and I still sometimes talk to some of them when I see them around.

Also during this time I was bullied. The names were endless: weirdo, strange, Shrek, ugly. I was also called names for listening to rock music and always being gloomy. But that’s how I was. They’d never understand the consequences of their words.

In June 2011, I lost my uncle to cancer. It was one of the saddest days of my life. Despite not being too close with him, he always had nothing but wise words of wisdom to tell me and my sister. The day he died I was sick, in bed, studying his favourite subject: the French Revolution. I dedicated my History exam to him… didn’t go so well. I got an E. Sorry, Uncle. I still love you.

That year, in October, came the saddest day of my life: losing my grandfather. My hero, the greatest man to ever enter my life. He was smart, funny, a good man all in all: the person I aspired to become when I was older. I spent that day just staring without a focus on things. I was so sad that all I did when I went home was stare at the ceiling, remember the good old days with him. The laughter, sadness and wisdom we shared together. Losing him left me devastated and unable to cope.

Losing my hero left me devastated

That led me to a downward spiral. I’d call my mum, crying that I hated everyone and everything, that I was alone and no one would miss me. This left her a little worried, but she brushed it off as a phase, simple sadness or something of that sort. 2011-2012 were the worst years of my life. My grades were plummeting; I had just two friends and being single didn’t help at all. I thought nobody wanted to be with me, or even liked me. I hid it all: the pain, the sadness, being lonely and alone. I hid it like it was nothing. And I was good at it. I good at making people think I was okay.

Fast forward three years. I was still sad, constantly tired, didn’t enjoy the things I used to love—reading and watching series—and my self-esteem was ever so low.

I hid my sadness very well

During that time, however, something did change: I started seeing someone. As he plays a role in this, we’ll call him X. X was smart, charming, a fellow animal lover and mature. I was instantly in love. We were both Beatles fans, and having met for the first time on John Lennon’s birthday made the relationship extra special. I was working as a secretary, and was not happy with my job. X encouraged me to call someone for help. Something I wanted to do for ten years… and it happened. I called my psychologist, Dr G, and set up my first appointment for December 2015. Also during that time, I went to see a doctor, and told him about my health issues. He told me to take a blood test, because it might have been thyroid issues, and if they came out negative, chances are I have depression. And, lo and behold…

The tests came out negative.

I had depression. It all just got real now. After ten years, I was finally diagnosed.

Soon enough, things with X were going sour. He’d be encourage me to do thigs the hard way—go hard or go home, he’d tell me in his own way—like putting on make-up, changing my style, moving out, not listen to my parents and much more. X would tell me he means well and cares about my wellbeing, which for him meant cutting my family off. Unfortunately, being blinded by my love for him, I listened to him. I spent about three months not talking to my family.

Things started getting worse, and one day, he just told me that it was better to stay away from him. I spent the next three days in hospital, crying for him, crying for dear life, with my mother by side. Oh, mother, if it wasn’t for you then, I’d probably have killed myself. She came with me to every doctor’s appointment, kissed me goodnight and checked up on me constantly. I felt stupid for having cut her off of my life because of X. Stupid and foolish and sad at the same time.

And finally we come to the present:

  • I’m seeing a specialist every four weeks to overlook my progress
  • I’m in a fun, amazing relationship
  • My family still loves me
  • My friends both love me to bits
  • I started this blog

And most of all…

  • I am where I want to be 🙂