(i ripped this off wikipedia real fast so sorry if it's lib)

In October 1776, the Public Universal Friend contracted an epidemic disease and was bedridden and near death with a high fever. Their family summoned a doctor from Attleboro, six miles away, and neighbors kept up a death-watch at night. The fever broke after several days. The Friend later reported that [deadname redacted] had died, receiving revelations from God through two archangels who proclaimed there was "Room, Room, Room, in the many Mansions of eternal glory for Thee and for everyone". The Friend further said that [deadname redacted]'s soul had ascended to heaven and the body had been reanimated with a new spirit charged by God with preaching his word, that of the "Publick Universal Friend", describing that name in the words of Isaiah 62:2 as "a new name which the mouth of the Lord hath named".

From that time on, the Friend refused to answer to their deadname, ignoring or chastising those who insisted on using it. When visitors asked if it was the name of the person they were addressing, the Friend simply quoted Luke 23:3 ("thou sayest it").  Identifying as neither male nor female, the Friend asked not to be referred to with gendered pronouns. Followers respected these wishes; they referred only to "the Public Universal Friend" or short forms such as "the Friend" or "P.U.F.", and many avoided gender-specific pronouns even in private diaries. When someone asked if the Friend was male or female, the preacher replied "I am that I am", saying the same thing to a man who criticized the Friend's manner of dress (adding, in the latter case, "there is nothing indecent or improper in my dress or appearance; I am not accountable to mortals").

editorial note: I think this is a very cool story and I really love hearing it. We've been around forever and we've been doing variations of this forever. It's really beautiful


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  • LocalOaf [they/them, ze/hir]
    ·
    2 months ago
    Mental health, burnout, family shit

    Feeling real yes-honey-left today

    Lend me gay energy to take care of myself instead of just burning myself out dealing with external problems

    I feel like I'm trying so hard to improve myself and do so much for other people to just keep my dysfunctional family afloat and it's never enough and I never feel appreciated for it

    It's like no matter what I do and how hard I try to get my shit together, I'm always gonna be treated like a dumb gremlin baby by my family even as they increasingly become incompetent geezers that need my help with simple shit that they're too lazy to do for themselves

    It feels like I'm carrying them around in the Flintstones car and if I quit lifting it up and kicking my legs to keep it moving, the wheels are gonna fall off and that's gonna be all my fault according to them and I'll never hear the end of it. this-is-fine its-a-living

    Anyways here's a cute cat pic

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