Don’t Feel With Your Heart, Tell Me How It Is.

I have just returned from an adventure I’ve never dreamed I would have faced. Is it over? Not yet. I would say my status is in the waiting, but let me tell you the story first.

Yesterday, upon the advice of my career councilor, I unloaded the train of truth to my mother. I came out to her. Although, she always knew but never wanted to acknowledge it, it was still a shock. Her first reaction was mixed and supportive, but her second reaction (a day later) was a heavy blow. To save the details I’m not quite ready to divulge just yet, she crippled me with her withdrawal of support and acceptance. No amount of medicine could thwart the level of nausea, headache and general heart ache I felt at the time. It completely surrendered me to my home, leaving work at lunch and deep, deep depression.

As, I sat on the phone with close friend, I thought “what did I do?” My brain shuffled around the many ways I could run away, pretend it didn’t matter what she thought or how in a matter of a few words I was able to revert back to the unsure place of my faith, person and what-not. What was important fell upon the floor with my whole being: what next? What could possibly happen next that would make this moment any better. I felt the deep core of my being disappear leaving yet a small, scared child in her seat waiting for direction.

What do I do now? kept playing over and over in my mind. There were no words of comfort nor any amount of shopping that could settle the endless rattle of my mind.

I called my office, completely choking back tears making plans to take the day off and come in on Saturday. There was no way I could have gone back. I would have been such a lump of frustration, tears and anger that work was the LAST thing I would have been able to have done. I knew within my body I had to talk with my mom one more time. Something had to be understood and I had no idea how I would grab her attention enough to tell her.

I call, leave a quick, non-polite voice mail for her to return my call immediately. She calls and I swear it was a God moment. My weak, crumbling exterior shifted to something stronger, more capable then I had been my whole life. I was able to stand for the first time as an adult to my mother. For once, in forever, we were actually able to be adults together. I didn’t revert to scared child and she didn’t go toward lecturing/preaching parent.

I’m leaving several details of our conversation out, but I figure it’s not time. I’m not quite ready to go there. Not yet.

The reason I told her in the first time was to stop hindering myself from becoming this secretly hidden person. I had to start making steps toward a better, stronger, more clearer me. I wanted peace with saying, “Mom, I’m bi. It’s not changing any time soon, but here I am.” Now that I’ve said it, we’ve beat it to death, cried about it and took a sick day because of it I think I’m ready to start healing.

You see when you carry something secret for a long time it follows you and sort of eats at you. It starts morphing your truth and actual truth into whatever is easy to handle. Burdens become stronger and wills less stronger. After a secret sits long enough and you decide to tell it, you still have to go through the healing process. As much as it should comfort you and give you peace/rest it doesn’t. Well, at least not in the long run. Things don’t change automatically and you don’t see silver linings right away either. It doesn’t get easier, but the burden feels lighter. I can already see myself making decisions removed from “what if they find out” or “who do I have to pretend to be so they don’t learn my secret”.

Next plan of action? Join a book club. A mixed book club. Full of men, women, gay and straight. I’m ready.

Rebuttals

Cruxine-Ah, yes…perspective from someone else helps me feel sane. I appreciate your post and your very right about keeping it to yourself. For some reason I’m constantly fighting just screaming it from a mountain or something. Oh well, if I do I’ll let you know. PS I don’t like Carmen. I prefer Bett of all people! I never thought I would say that, but I often relate to her the most and am very attracted to her. Well, her and Alice.

E. – Too bad we’re not in the same area because we could hang out on those lonely Friday nights. I agree with you saying some times it’s needed. I guess for me, last night, I was just wanting people company versus self company. Eh? What are you going to do? Yes, fingers crossed about new web site!

Speaking of new web site, I can not wait till I get it running and can think of a better way to respond to comments. I’ve tried responding within the comment queue, but that’s hard to make sure those who left comments know I responded without having to check for themselves. Responding in a separate blog seems to be the only way those who comment know I’ve read their comments and are interested in conversation. Perhaps, I’ll create a sidebar item so that way I can respond through that? Hmm…we shall see.

Friday Night Loner

I can’t believe it’s Friday night and I’m blogging. Better yet, blogging in a local coffee shop alone. I guess I can be thankful I’m at least some where besides my apartment, but then again I would love to be some where else with people I know versus my laptop. Oh well…beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Funny thing is I’m at a local coffee shop that Amy and I use to frequent. In fact, each time the door opens I secretly hope she’s walking through the door. I crave her company right now. I know, I know, I know what you’re thinking. “You’re the one who broke it off with her,” and you’re totally right. I get what I asked for, but I guess I was hoping to not be alone so much. Eh…part of it.

In other news, I can happily say I just purchased a domain and hosting service! Hopefully, in the next couple of weeks I’ll be up and running in something fun and totally controlled by me. Here’s the interesting part: I don’t know the first thing in coding, HTML or anything web related. Good thing I have my trusty “Dummies Guide to WordPress” with me to help get me through the parts I don’t understand.

I’ve had very sweet offers to help me figure this out, but where would my stubborn, prideful self be if I didn’t have to do it all by myself. I think I really want to prove to myself I CAN do this. I may probably will fail in some area, but I’m bound and determined to figure it out.

Also, I found this awesome website that generates a foot print out of the words you commonly use in your blog. Check it out:

“Father”, “Dad”, “Pops” and “The Old Man”

Those area variety of names given to dad’s around the world. Some favorable and some not so loving. I’ve mulled over and over my issues with my Dad and I don’t really know where to start.

First, I shall say I love, honor, am very thankful for and am blessed by my Dad. He stuck it through my the hard times with my Mom, sat me down then I was running astray and constantly provided for me making me slightly spoiled. He made sure I went to college because he knew I needed it and constantly reminded me of how proud he was/is of me. He provided me my first car, college experience and food always on the table. He portrayed my pictures on his office desk proudly and was always offering direction. I know I’ve been blessed beyond my means and should not complain, but there’s something within me that breaks every time I think of my Dad.

I’m that girl that cries at cheesy set ups in movies and TV when the dad hugs his kids, etc. I lay in bed and have personal conversations with my Dad, easily mocking what I’ll know he’ll say to me as if he’s in the room. I’m just so angry and hurt. I’ve had a dad who stuck around, stayed faithful to my mom and provided to me and my siblings my whole life. Why on earth do I feel this way? Why as I type do I want to cry and shout all at the same time? Why do I feel the immediate need to write this out before I can finish my work?

As I’m writing I hear my Dad’s voice telling me “I’m not a good writer and I shouldn’t focus on that.” I think what sucks the most about that is I graduated with a writing degree. I actually wrote for my school paper and have come a long way in my confidence as a writer. I’m not going to lie, I hate writing for purpose. I hate being told, “write this now” because I typically get writers block and stay that way until I’m in the eleventh hour. In my last job, I was promoted to Project Manager and Jr. Copy Writer. I had a shit of a manager and he constantly told me I wasn’t a good writer. He actually refused my raise until I went to school for further education in writing. Funny thing was after I left work, our new boss read my work and actually liked it. And HE was a Sr. Copy Writer, too. Unfortunately, I left that job before he got the opportunity to restore faith in myself. So, now every time I’m tasked to write something I think first, “I’m not a good writer.” That kills me.

Fact is anything remarking on my intellect if serious to me. I grew up in an elementary, middle and high school were the majority of my class were fighting for the top 50% GPA in our area. Not just high school but area. I can remember being in elementary school with glasses, being left handed and dyslexia having to go to “special” classes while everyone else was enrolled in some sort of LEAP program. While they were working on projects that challenged their intellect I was forced to turn my paper side ways (because they thought that helped left-handed kids), learn what an accent mark was and that Tom Cruise was dyslexic, too. Yeah, that didn’t make me feel better. I wanted to be smart and not seen as a “special” class kid. I hated/hate being told I’m not good enough. So, ever since that moment in the third grade I swore I would never be seen as stupid. I forced myself into all the hard, AP style classes where I became an average student, but never once looked dumb to my peers. I was never able to join the Honors kids, but I was okay with them thinking I just didn’t want to be in it.  So, you can imagine why I get angry at my Dad for telling me I can’t write. It cripples me that the person I want to pleased with me the most says I can’t do something.

I’m a daddy-pleaser. I’m not a daddy’s little girl, but the little girl who wanted her dad to always be proud of her. Always saying, “Daddy, look at me!” while I did circles on my bike. “Daddy, look at my room” as I became the most organized six-year old ever. I did get those praises, but only those praises.

I think my Dad must come from tough men with narrow mindsets. When I was in college I went into school as a Psychology major. Yeah, I struggled, but I loved knowing I could do it. I was about to hit my second semester when my Dad said, “why are you in Psychology? That’s not where your gifts are, what are you doing there?” It WAS hard and I was just wanting to be happy, so I switched.

I think what worries me is that ME, just me will never be good enough. Never good enough to his standard of successful. I mean, he loves me and I know he’s proud of me, but I don’t know if he really took the time to get to know the real me if he would be proud of me.

My Dad and I are so much a like we use to (and still do) butt heads. When I was little I was constantly being threatened with spankings and being grounded. When I was older and living off their generosity it was worse. Fact is, as much as my Dad treats me like an adult I don’t think he knows I’m fully capable of being one. Always making assumptions of what I know and how I’m going to live my life. Telling me that “I’m in for a world of hurt if I don’t start living in the real world.” Complete dream crusher. I think his big break in my spirit was in college. I think he didn’t want me to come back home and live off them for a while, so he just pushed me toward whatever degree would get me a job and out. He always throws in the line, “well, don’t expect to come home if it doesn’t work out.” So supportive.

I don’t know. I don’t want to say he was a bad father or a worthless dad, but he sure wasn’t supportive. You would be talking to him, telling him something and he would walk away mid-sentence. I find the older I get the more I become like him. Very scary. Some things I don’t mind, but these types of things I don’t want. My brother is becoming like him, too. He, however, has had the worst of my Dad. I’ve always felt bad for my brother because here he was the only son of a very successful, strong man smoking pot and skating all day. He had it really hard in high school. At least it’s getting better for him now that he’s about to be on his own.

Truth is parents aren’t always great. They do a lot things to pick us up and pull us down. They’re as human as I am. I can’t fault them for that. I can’t pull the begrudged role of the girl who didn’t have the perfect father, when she should just be happy she had a good dad.

I’m sure there’s more in me to write about, perhaps some other time.

Breast Cancer: Step 1 Retracted

So, I asked the club I was wanting to have the event/fund raising  thing for and they said no.

Yeah, it does suck, but I understand. When you have a night club you have to have rules so that way things don’t get out of hand. They do fundraising but only to give directly to the foundation not an individual or group. I understand and am not mad at all. It’s a business.

Guess I’m on to plan number 2: hitting people up for money. Here I go…

Singletons…We Must All Stick Together

So, recently I’m single, Nicole’s single and Amber’s single. Three girls that are suppose to meet up tonight to just be amongst friends. Plans were to go to local spot for $2 beers and live music, but due to Amber’s and Nicole’s ex-girlfriends we have to find another route. Knowing full well we were going to be there first, these sassy ladies decide to push out our little plan and make us planless. Jerks.

I don’t blame Nicole or Amber for not wanting to go and be in the presence of their ex-girlfriends. Although Amy and I did not break up as harshly as I think they did, it would still be hard. Well, it would be harder for she and I because we’re currently on “separational break”. As I was telling you several blogs ago, I met this woman on my plane to San Diego who said some amazing stuff that got me thinking, which revealed I actually do love Amy, but am not ready for commitment yet. With that, we’re taking a full month break from talking to each other so that way we can think emotion free how to move forward. Amy has to figure out if she wants to deal with my flippy-floppy self and I have to figure out if I’m ready to take the next step toward being truly committed to her. Well, not to say I wasn’t before, but took my falling in out of the relationship to be a sign to break up. If I move forward I plan on fighting past those moments for the relationship, her and my personal relationship growth. So, it would be hard to see Amy knowing I still have some time to go before I can do whatever with our relationship. Wow, that was a side note.

Back to issue: plans may be stopped because of rotten ex’s. Just not fair. What’s not fair is what breaking up does to our (meaning girls) self esteem. For some reason, many of us find ourselves out a relationship in the worst times of our personal lives. We’re either facing financial mountains, passionless jobs or crazy family. What you would think would encourage us and make us sink our teeth into fixing these problems does completely the opposite. I think that’s why I’m trying to stay busy. Some very wise woman (my mother) told me to keep moving after a break up: Don’t stop and don’t let yourself be alone unless you really need it. She’s right, you know. The moment you allow yourself to sit in your misery, aloneness or sad story you find yourself right where the devil (yeah, him) wants you. You start doubting your beauty, personality, health, mind and everything else lovely. You start down a path that cripples your spirit and next thing you know you’ve got quite a journey on your hands toward normalcy.

I think that’s where I am. Not because of Amy at all, but because I never really recovered from the blow Anna gave me. I’m continually fighting old habits that warp my confident identity and set me up for relationship failure. I blame some of my reasons I can’t get straight with Amy (oxymoron) from my relationship with Anna AND David. Yeah, let’s throw him in there. He’s the guy I thought I was going to marry. I thought he was it and waited (get this) four years for. FOUR FUCKING YEARS FOR. Yeah, and I didn’t even tell you we dated only one out of those four years. What the fuck, right? I know.

Fact is, our break ups have the powerful effect of breaking not only our hearts (natural) but our lives, too. Sometimes that warranted because the relationship was either great or highly emotional so it seems the world is ending for those reasons. Other times we just find ourselves responding to life as if we can’t go on when that person was a dick and needed to go. Girls…we’re all the same. Well, most of us anyway.

Nick, if you’re reading, I know you were in a relationship with a girl that made you feel this way. I think that’s why I like reading your blog. You’re completely honest and very much a guy. It’s refreshing to know I’m not the only one have to rebuild.

Anyways, I’m hoping I can pull Amber out tonight even if it’s a night in with a pizza and movie. We need to pull each other up because the worst thing we can do to our friends is let them go home, turn off the lights and never move on. I think i read some where that for every month you dated someone it takes two more to get over them? I think that’s right…either way, it speaks truth. It always takes longer to get over someone, but when you finally do and you did it in a healthy way it feels so good. Plus, you can know the next relationship will start out on the healthy foot versus the one that only moves backwards making you trip over yourself in front of someone new. Now, that’s fun.

Starbucks, You’ve Finally Done It

You’ve out recipe-d my knowledge. I’m standing in line waiting to place my order when I see it. A new recipe I can’t even think how you would make. For those of you wondering why I care so much about Starbucks’ recipes for drinks is because I use to work there. In fact, I worked there all throughout college.  I guess I secretly thought I could always fall back onto Starbucks if, God forbid, I lost my job suddenly or something. Now, I can’t walk in there and say it will take me two days to train versus their typical week. I knew it had to happen some time.

The true reason for this post is to get my brain in writing gear. I’ve got to write this morning for work and it always takes me a while to get into the groove of writing. I can’t force it otherwise it looks like this blog: not in order and making no sense.

I’m so tired. I kept thinking I would have caught up on sleep by now, but my late nights are only hurting the process. I can’t wait until Saturday morning when I can just sleep in.

Second truth to this blog: I’m not looking forward to this weekend. Typically I’m fighting for my weekends and nights off, but this weekend I’m realizing I don’t have much going on. For some one who just broke up with their girlfriend, it’s no fun to just sit at home. My greatest fear is I’ll get stuck on the couch watching hours of DVDs and playing on the Internet. Some times that’s great and just what I needed, but I’m afraid I’ll find myself there more often then I should be.

I’ve asked several of my friends to hang out this weekend and I was either blown off or told they would be out of town. Call for new friends, maybe?

Hmm…where do I find said “new friends”? Bar? No, no, no…not a good place to really meet people. Church? Well, maybe at my new church I could do that. Not sure how to get started, but we’ll see how that goes. I need to just join a book club and meet people that way. Now, where do I find an already existing book club of interesting, but not scary people? I really just need to get back into volunteering. It makes you feel so good about yourself and you HAVE TO meet people that way.

On the topic of friends, it hits me that I have not really found MY friends. That sounds horrible, but let me explain. MY friends means people I found outside of a relationship or friendship. I have several friends that I would call close friends, but it doesn’t always work out. For example: my good friends I’ve met through Amy. I love these girls, but now that we’re broken up there’s like this glass wall stopping us from meeting up right now. Eventually it will be different, but we all know how that goes.

Man, I really shouldn’t write unless I want to. Crap just seems to flow out with no real direction or purpose.

God, how is it we’ve wondered so far? Why do we wish to pull people down in order to tell them about forgiveness? What right do we have as individuals to tell each other painful things in order to make them see that they believe in a god?

Why are we so quick to diminish the behavior of those we don’t know in order to put them in a place we have no right to put them in. Why do we constantly insist we were given that right?

I fear the future for my children. Whether they’re raised in a same-sex house hold or as normal as any subdivision in hometown America, it’s going to be hard. They are going to constantly fight the opinions of other people. People who think of themselves as right and my children as wrong. For things within the law, I understand them to be wrong, but things outside of the law such as who they fall in love with, what they choose to believe in or what they choose to do in their lives is theirs.

It makes me sick to think I’m surrounded by people too obsessed with things changing to the wrong immoral because they’re incapable of seeing individuals as people you created. No, we’re not perfect. No, some of us make lousy lives out of the ones were given, but you created us. You made sure we were in this world just as we are. We’re here to face challenges, obstacles and come out fighting because you gave us the strength to do it. We’re ugly at the best of times and selfish in the majority of our days. We can’t do anything that doesn’t revolve around our thoughts, ideals, goals, plans and moods. Regardless of how completely broken we are without you and how completely backwards life has been since you left the Garden, you made us in this day, of this year to be where we are and who we because of it. I can not imagine where I would without you, but I can not imagine where I would be with just them.

Those who mock me for my differences. Those who choose to judge me first and refuse to love me second. It’s not until I’m praying for forgiveness that they come sailing in with hugs, praise and affirmation that you did indeed make me.

I’ve grown up in a church of religion and in the moments I thought I knew you the most you pulled out my safety net and let me fall. Fall so far from those rules and deception that if I’m perfect and do good things I will delivered from my sins-as if I earned them without Christ. You left me alone, bitterly alone. My friendships were like sand my heart like a hole. I felt abandoned by you. I felt completely alone because of you, but I never denied you.

Even now, as I type an angry, bitter, frustrated blog to you I do NOT deny your existence. Perhaps it’s too bold. Perhaps I will be seen crazy, but if I can not lie naked in my truth of who you are in my life then what do I have to offer to those who read anyways. This blog is not about stuff I think cool or interesting stories I found on my way to work, but rather the deep rooted knots of my life still left for me to figure out.

I do not want to live in a world that closes their eyes to their neighbor when they’re in need. I do not what to live in a world that tells you what you can or can not believe, think or feel because it’s not the majority.

My mom says if we do not stand for something, then how will they (meaning world) tell us apart from non-believers? I say I will stand for something. I will stand for equality and the right choose. The right to choose what you believe and love. I may not know enough to base my vote, pick out paint colors, feed the hungry or find the right career, but I know I’m going to try.

Simple truth is that I’m broken. The majority of us are. We fill our broken cracks with things, people and wealth to cover up the longing that will never be filled by anything on this earth.

I’m tempted to not post this blog. I’m tempted to put it aside as something between me and God, but like I said…this is about my deep roots, new beginnings and foudation. None of it’s perfect, lovely or always up beat. I would love to say I give a damn about what people really want to read, but then why would I have a personal blog in the first place. I left writing for an audience to my college degree.

You’re Going To Hell

How can people say that?

How can those words jump off the tongue of people who know Jesus personally?

How can one person think he/she has the ordained right to condemn someones soul to damnation?

Who are you to think you were given that right? I most certainly know I wasn’t.

There are a lot of shity people in this world that I would hope bad things happen to, but I’m not about to condemn their soul to hell. That’s not up to me.

I’m responding out of anger here, and for that I apologize. I just can’t sit here and feel it anymore.

I’ve decided to watch the “L Word” to help me balance between my straight and gay life. I’ve really suck at maintaining a balance between straight/gay friends, life styles and activities. As I’m watching this TV show there’s a few episodes that strike close to home.

1. Coming out to your parents. I hold off on this subject with my parents for many reasons. Mainly because it’s scary to say it out loud to the people who’s opinions matter the most. My parents are rather straight laced and I know just how they’ll see having a Bi daughter = hell. I use to think that maybe they would just see me as a sinner and that I could live with. After all I believe someones soul is between them and God. You have the power to influence it, shape it and love it, but you do not have the power to save it. Only Jesus can do that.
2. Condemnation. In the episode I just watched, it hit on many notes I know people within the GLBT community are all too personal with. The “you’re going to hell” and “you’re a sinner for continuing to pollute this world…”. Yeah, people really say that, think that and try to stop it because of this thought. I’m too angry to get Jesus on you, but man I would love to just sink my teeth into that idea.

What kills me the most is that the majority of people DO NOT believe in Jesus Christ. Yeah, the majority of people choose faith in something else or not at all. Of course, as a believer in Jesus I want people to know Him and His never ending, never bashing, never hating love. BUT, it is in their God-given right to not choose Him. All I can do is love, show why I believe and allow them to choose. I CAN NOT SAVE THEIR SOUL.

No matter what certain high religious Christians think, you can not save a person’s soul. You can think you have, but unless you were in their heart, witnessing their moment with Jesus from heaven, I’m sorry you can not. So stop telling people where their soul is going.

God, I hope you give me more opportunities to tell some Christians with this point of view what you’re love is really like, so that way they can stop condemning and start loving. What were the greatest commandments? Hmm? Love thy neighbor and the Lord your God? Were those not the two things Jesus kept repeating in all His sermons?

FUCK! Yeah, so you think I shouldn’t cuss and talk about Jesus all in the same breath and I agree. My only issue is I like cussing and Jesus doesn’t want me to be fake. Until I clean up my act I will not cuss towards Him ever, but will cuss. Get over it.

I have no idea if I’m going to end up with a woman for the rest of my life. Sometimes I think I will and if I do, I want to move where only the gay bubble exists. I know that’s no way to live, but rose colored glasses can’t make you cry and wish life were different. I don’t know…I guess this is more of a venting blog. It has some substance and some rambling. Most of all: don’t condemn. Jesus is the only one who can.

Breast Cancer: Step 1

So, let me fill you all in on my progress towards raising money for my 3Day Susan G. Komen adventure.

After speaking with my career councilor, I was totally energized to make it happen. I kept going to this bar hoping that the right opportunity would fall into my lap and each time it didn’t work out. I would ask, be put on some list and eventually forgotten by the big cats. This last time I was there i struck gold! Solid, “here’s the person to contact” gold.

I just emailed my golden contact and was informed that they will be meeting tomorrow to plan events for this club. I will know by Thursday if they’re interested or not! Prayers said, fingers crossed, dreams sent out that THIS goes well and I get it!