One regret.

It was my secondary school's presentation evening last night. After my mum made me wear a dress, and then told me that said dress was too tight and I needed another one, I wasn't in the best of moods when it started. But it didn't turn out too badly. I saw a few old friends, a few old teachers whom I now consider to be friends, and my old school chaplain gave me a kiss on the cheek for the leaving present I got for him last year. He's an incredible man.

It was nostalgic, but not as much as I'd anticipated. On the one hand, it felt like I'd never left; yet on the other, everything had changed, and it seemed surreal to think I'd ever spent seven years of my life there. It made me contemplate who I'd become, what I achieved, and what I hadn't.

I've come to the conclusion that I will now have one regret in life - on the premise that I don't have the intention to make any more, because they aren't much fun. I'm always going to imagine how much different, or better, my life could have been had I applied to Oxbridge. I've voiced this regret to several people, and each one has replied in a similar fashion: "You wouldn't have enjoyed it, it would have been too much for you." Implying in the very least that, although academically speaking I would've been fine, mentally I would have struggled to cope under the pressure that such institutions are famous for placing on their students to push them past their potentials. Now don't get me wrong, I think the people that have said such things are completely right, as they all know me better than I know myself. But I still feel incredibly sad about that.

The fact that I often can't understand my own thoughts and behaviour from a subjective point of view scares me so much; I had no idea that I'd be this bad. I have frequent panic attacks, my trich is getting worse and I battle against anxiety with every decision I make. The feelings and judgements of the people around me echo in my head and haunt me through night and day, to the point where I can only just make out the words of self-depreciation that repeat endlessly. It's a bloody good thing I didn't go to Oxbridge, and I think God knew that too. But how weak am I, knowing that I wouldn't be able to cope in an environment where, had I been stronger and more together, I could have excelled and made people proud of me.

Mental health isn't a joke; it's a nightmare, and I don't even know the worst of it. I'm far from it, so many people experience it in ways that I'll never know and that scares me even more. If I struggle to reach God on dark days, then what chance to others have who fall even further from clarity and security? And if God remains silent, then what are we supposed to do?

It seems to me that mental health is the largest issue of human nature that we're having to face in today's world, and we don't appear to be making a lot of progress. Not from where I'm standing anyway. Science might be developing, but the stigma surrounding various mental illnesses is standing its ground in the face of people suffering and recovering alike, making life even more impossible than it was before. People remain ignorant and all-assuming, to the point where in such a society it feels like having the mental illness is the least of a person's problems. We aren't learning from the same mistake we've made for years regarding physical disability: clearly, a person's surroundings are what cause them to disabled, not the physical impairment itself. I learnt that when I experienced being unable to walk during my first weeks of term at university with a cast on my leg; despite the fact that provisions were made for disabled students, I still found myself stuck in faulty lifts whilst trying to avoid stairs on several occasions, and wheelchair-friendly ramps were rendered pointless when I realised that they required me to push uphill for a solid five minutes. The same restrictions apply when we discuss mental health, and they are vast.

So until I live in a world where academic ability doesn't have to be shamed and impeded by one's mental state, and the success and quality of life that most people enjoy is attainable for those whose strengths and talents lie in different areas, who may not able to walk or talk but can still think and reach their goals - then I will continue to be sad. I have one regret, but others have many, and not by their own limitations but the ones forced upon them.

Wake up world, people are drowning. It's time to change.

Thorns in their sides.

So, I just saw Noah.

Not the actual man, I'm not having mysterious dreams or anything. None that involve him in any case.

No, the film, with Russell Crowe and Emma Watson. It was really, really good - it was an interpretation, and I don't know how I feel about the angels that looked like talking rocks and the CGI babies, but aside from a few tiny things, I really enjoyed it. It made me relax, which is something I'm having trouble with at the moment. But it also made me think, and that's never good.

It made me think about why I'm here. Why I'm me. Why God, or the Creator as He's been referred to as this evening, made me the way I am.

What purpose could I possibly have as a gay woman? I know that I was born like this, I'm certain of it. I can't change that, either, and at this point in my life I can honestly say that I don't want to change.

However, watching the film tonight and the issues that are involved, it seems clear to me that God created women, and men, for a reason. They are compatible, they are suited, they make sense. Even without the purpose of procreation, there's a sense of a 'clean fit' between them. So why on earth did God create gay people?

Now gay men and women have relationships that are just as healthy and fulfilling as heterosexual relationships. Is that the only reason that we exist as we do, though? To have and share and enjoy relationships, that's it? 

Maybe that's true, actually. Maybe I just needed to write my thoughts and doubts down so that they make sense. That is the only reason we're here, isn't it? To share in happy, healthy relationships with people, all kinds of people. 

There is no place for me in Noah's story, and maybe not in the entire Bible. But if the Bible did show one thing, it displayed the diversity of human kind. I believe that my type of diversity was hidden underneath verse after verse, and behind characters like an anonymous slave or an ambiguous thorn in the side of a well known protagonist. 

There was little room for Ham in Noah's story, too, but he was still in God's plan. So that must mean I am too, right?

God must be okay with the fact that I was paying more attention to Emma Watson than Logan Lerman this evening, or else I wouldn't be here. Whether or not He has a life planned for me like I presume He does for every straight person in the world is another thing entirely, though. 

The foundation of our human existence that is heternormativity will continue to make me struggle with things that I feel I need to understand. But I guess only time will tell what God has in store for me, and whether being gay even matters to Him at all. I do really sometimes wish that Jesus had just mentioned homosexuality, just once - it'd make our lives so much easier! And part of me wishes that one of those many biblical protagonists had a named and gendered thorn in their side, but even if they did, we shall never know.

For now, I'll just keep smiling when Emma Watson (have I mentioned her yet?) appears on my screen, and be content with the simple side to human nature. Enough thinking and pointless rambling for one night.