The 3 Day: Everything Else

This weekend was heavy. Not only for my feet and body, but for my soul, emotions, mind and future. In addition to being challenged physically I found myself being challenged mentally. Let me first tell you how I expected this weekend to have gone. I knew it was going to be gay-palooza and I would be surrounded by lesbians as well as straight people. I thought I would naturally find myself amongst the elderly and be making friends with people twice my age as I typically do. I envisioned my goodbyes being something like “tell your daughter I said ‘hello’ and good luck with that garden.” I also expected God to use people to speak to me. It seems the only way I know how to hear Him right now, so I was looking for signs. The first day I met a girl named Jennifer.

I had gotten there at 5 a.m. and it was freezing. I was trying to stay warm by hanging around this big metal “barn”. I was alone and was generally just standing there hoping to meet my friends for the weekend. I had been standing there for about an hour when I realized this girl to my right had been there equally as long and by herself, too. Then I slipped in my opening line “how are these girls wearing shorts and tank tops?” Then I made my first friend Jennifer. This was her third year and she had it down. She was kind enough to share a hand warmer thing with me, which made a HUGE improvement on my body’s willingness to stay. (Key Note: I was never going to LEAVE but my body often had talks with my brain on “what if” I did leave. Unfortunately for my body, my brain won every time.)

Jennifer and I made our way to the front of the Opening Ceremony and we waited to be released on our journey. We talked about everything and kept each others pace nicely. I learned about her engagement to a man destined for her. They lived in the same complex, worked near each other and met (randomly enough) on MySpace. I shared with her part of my story. I had made it a goal of mine to listen to other people first and share myself second. I told her little pieces about my family, job and dogs. Looking back I realize I didn’t really share much. At the time, I didn’t know how she would feel about me being Bi so I left that part out. We both realized we were going to be setting tent up next to each other and were wondering who our tent mates were. We knew their names but nothing else. When we got to camp (with much pain) we found our second walking buddy: Nikki or as I call her Nicole.

I don’t know why I was all about calling her by her full name, but it suited her to me and I couldn’t stop. Nicole quickly became atom of curiosity. On the outside she was colorfully adorned with detailed tattoos and carefully positioned piercings. She was a child of two bikers with supportive love. As I got to know her I became stumped by her. Not stumped at her but at myself. I would say she was about 27-28 and completely herself. I didn’t know what to do with her expect be curious about my own reflection. I learned about her girlfriend, turn fiance and her dreams of a wedding. She poured out her life before me with ease. To each story she revealed new details that left me completely curious about my own life. Here she was, to two complete strangers, sharing who she was. She was expressing the very thing I’ve been longing to do: Become an open book. She didn’t care how we felt about being gay or tattoos or her family or her points of view. She was real, honest and expressive. I didn’t know what to do but sit back in awe.

Our fourth and final walker to be added to our journey was Ellen. She was a 49-year old musician performing and working as a freelance private teacher. She remembered every detail and had a vocabulary that made me embarrassed to even attempt the “Bushanisiums” of my way of talking. I learned about her past, her ex and her parents. When she asked me about myself I became broken with words. She asked about “if I was dating someone” and I don’t know what I said to her, but I think it was along the lines of “blahblahblah…working it out…parents…blah…blahblah…she…blahblahblah…blah.” I couldn’t believe I was talking to a complete stranger about my life and that was the best I could do. Generally, I love when people ask that question because then I get to steal the whole conversation towards my tidal wave of emotional relationship with Amy, coming out and what-have you. For some reason, because I never said anything in the beginning I couldn’t find the words then. Both Ellen and Nicole were gay and I then learned that Jennifer’s dad was as well. Here I was thinking I had to protect people from having to judge me or have to choose and everyone around me was in some way okay with the gay. I’m so new to this.

As the weekend went on my legs were not the only sore things happening. My heart was breaking down because as I sat around these honest people I found myself hiding. For the first time in my whole life I was hiding at a huge event. I do really, really well in crowds of people I don’t know. Surprisingly, I find more confidence in crowds of people I don’t know versus those I do. Weird, I know, but that’s how I am. So, it was killing me that here I was surrounded by acceptance and women who were fighting the same disease as I was that I was hiding in my tent hoping it to be the last day.

As I said in my other blog, I didn’t realize this error until the night of the second day. Sunday (final day) was much better, but it took one long phone call to Amy, a few tears and a journal in the memory tent for me to snap out of it. I wish I could say I became this billowing waterfall of personality after that moment, but it wasn’t until today I realized the silver lining revelation of this weekend. All I did was stopped complaining about the cold, the pain or the excitement of being in my own bed in one day. I started digging into their lives and choosing to stop making it about me and support them. I became myself again without having to say much.

Today, as I recover on my couch, I found my revelation moment. I’m watching “Little Miss Sunshine” and preparing myself to cry. This is one of my favorite movies for many reasons. The part that I cry the most is when (spoiler alert) the brother realizes he can not accomplish his dream of being a fighter pilot because he’s color blind. He has taken a vow of silence until he reaches this goal. It’s at this point that he breaks it and breaks down. He’s refusing love and care from any of his family members until his sister comes down puts her arm around him. She says nothing, but just loves on him. I cry every time. It’s in watching this movie I realize what pains me about this weekend, why I was so infatuated with Nicole and why it felt so good to cry during this movie was because I just want the freedom to be me. I’m not a 100% sure who that is and my main hesitation is to fail miserably and taking people down with me, but I want the freedom to be me. I want the freedom to careless what people say, feel, or think towards me but what God says is the most important.

What is life, but a prolonged time to eternity. If you’re not a believer in a Christ heaven, this paragraph makes no sense to you. These years I have on this earth are small days in comparison to my end. Sometimes I wonder what the point to life was if in the end it wasn’t the same. I believe we won’t know each the same way in heaven. I believe that nothing except God’s radiance will matter. I won’t care about life on earth or who’s next to me. All I’ll care about is the perfection of Christ. My body won’t matter, my personality won’t define me, my name won’t separate me, my existence won’t matter except to one. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it to fight for things that in the grand scheme of things don’t matter. It doesn’t matter what we do to our bodies while on this earth. They’re ours and we’re given the choice to do what we want. We don’t take them with us when we die. Our scars, our tattoos, our hair color, our differences don’t go with us. So what’s the point? I can only say it is to worship Him, right? To live as myself is foolish because “self” will be lost in the end, but why is it so hard?

Why is it so hard to be “me”? Why can’t I tell people my story without fear or reservation? Why can’t I embrace my story and live it to the fullest? Where does the line exist between “self” and “world”? Are they the same?

Basically, in my flesh I live here with passions. I wake up every morning desiring certain things, things not everyone around me shares. I love hospitals. I love being in the places where last chances are giving out hope. I love music and listening to it with full intensity. I love cooking for friends and loved ones as a way to share my talent. I love talking to people about life and who they are because I believe everyone is worth a beauty we often believe isn’t for us. I like not always wearing make up because I don’t think it should change who I am with it on. I love taking the weekends for movies and lazy couch days because I love to see what other people are doing with their talents.

I wake up every day, by God’s hand, and go about my day in habit. With that, I seek to pursue passion and change in myself because I don’t want to live the days I’ve been given foolishly for granted. I don’t want to waste my time sitting in a chair with pointless tasks five days a week, forty hours a week affecting no one.

I’m scared to be me.

I’m scared that if I live as me I will loose support from my family. I’m scared that I will have to fight every single day for the life I want against those who view things differently.

I’m scared that one day I’ll not know my own reflection because I’ve taken on everyone elses and have become tolerant to every thing.

I’m thankful I’m only 24 and have (hopefully) many years before me, but for some reason find myself in this holding place. Like if I don’t move forward I won’t ever get burned and I won’t have to worry about standing up. I don’t even know what it’s like to stand up anymore.

I use to think these parts, the sorrow filled parts, were worth being delivered from permanently. Like if God could never let me exist here I would always be great. I think in these parts, though they seem huge and long, are the shaping of my character. Not really sure what that means in the grand scheme of eternity, but right now it gives me some hope that God will have pleasure in my person and be proud of me.

Perhaps it seems silly for me to put myself in the boat of “pleasing a god” but I find humanity severely struggling to survive without Him. I would rather be foolish for Him than foolish for the world’s idea of righteousness. I’ll never measure up to His and can’t really say I intend to. All I want to do is never loose sight of His face and never be satisfied with out Him.

Because I’m scared to be me I exist in just today. I’m hoping that in existing just in today, God will work all things out in His glorious plan. I met these girls this weekend for a reason. I’m here, in this place, for a reason. Broken, tired and completely afraid for a reason.

“This or That”

In the last couple of weeks I’ve been shaking myself loose from the mental break down I had in the presence of my parents two Sundays ago. I’ve mentioned that my parents wanted to talk to me about my decision to come out to them as “bi”. I, thinking I’m ever so strong, agree to meet them on Sunday for a little discussion. “Little” is hardly the word and “discussion” is not what happened in the slightest. I was, rather, told “wrong” ,”saved”, “don’t approve”, “struggle”, “sin no more” and “we love you”.  Hmm…

After that little two-hour me sit there and they yell situation, I left, picked me up some McDonald’s and went home to plunder away at a large fry and McNugget combo. There were tons of tears. There was tons of anger and sadness. 

Since then I’ve not been the same, good and bad. I’ve pulled away from my relationship with Amy, my parents and generally anyone I was close to. I’ve become more like a air-tight liter of Coke that’s been dropped on the floor one to many times. My lid is about to explode and my reaction is about to be every where. 

In an effort to build some meaning out of my existence I’ve been seeing a therapist. At first, when I found him through Psychology Today I thought he seems to be too mellow for me. As I was desperate for a councilor that was not with the Christian crusade of America (I have no idea if such a crusade really exists) I settled for at least one appointment with him. I had to get all that anger, emotion and confusion out of me before I pushed it into the deep parts of my mind to just poison my thoughts with “what ifs” and “I hate you’s”. Turns out this guy is amazing.

I titled this blog “This or That” because of another blog I read shared to me by Amy. It’s written by an amazing personal bloger named Kristy. This blog she wrote was about her figuring out the path of her life and where she wanted to go. She mentions being married before to a man that she could see her future clearly with. Children, career, life, all of it was visible in the distance. It wasn’t until her mother became ill that she realized she didn’t want any of it. It wasn’t what she wanted for herself at 25. Marriage, mortgage and children were not on her agenda, so she started over on her own. She now, at 32, is coming back to this place of marriage, mortgage and children with a renewed self and more focused mind. She says she couldn’t have been a good mother then as she would be now. Unfortunately, her ovaries are no longer functioning. It’s becoming more obvious that she will not be able to have children. Towards the end of her blog she says words that describe me right now. She says, “I don’t think I’ve made a mistake, living this life. I know I’d make a much better mother now than I ever could have been ten years ago. But by waiting, did I lose my opportunity? By having “this” did I miss my chance at “that”?” 

Mistake. That word is one I hate to know personally. I always want to win, choose the right side and do the right thing. I hate being in the wrong, the bad or the guilty. Funny how when you sit in your own life, overwhelmed by everything else, the wrong is blurred and the right further away. I don’t know what the right or the wrong is for me and I would care for you not to tell me either. I boil at the very chance to mess up, to some how throw myself down the stairs of life and break every possible future bone in my path, but I hate taking it one step at a time, too. I hate that life can’t just be something I LIVE rather than something I talk about. I’m over people telling me what I should do and what I shouldn’t. I think, sometimes, I would much rather live on a island all on my own. Absent from people and communication, but then I think I would be far crazier than I am now. 

Every night I sit in my bed, pondering my mistakes, my failures and my direction for the morrow. I would call myself an optimist minus my brain. How, in all the years of good times and up beat emotions, have I come to this place of empty? I keep thinking if I do “this” or “that” I will better be able to answer those hard question pressing in on me. Funny how “this” or “that” don’t really help me, but further complicate my life and add to the need for something else to distract me. 

Did I mention I wanted to run? Yes, last week I sought a councilor to help me answer just one question, “do I leave?” I wanted out of my parents hand. I wanted to get away from people that knew me and knew my family. I wanted to do my own thing and exist in my own person absent of those knowing anything about me/family. But, in all things complicated there was also this need to stay. This need to teach my mind that running wasn’t the answer and establishing strength next to the things that break me down was far more important than lovely weather and new faces. So I’m staying. Staying to the point that I’m looking for a home. I’m tired of the renting game and hate owing the rental man. I’m hoping within the next two months I’ll be living in my own place with new possibilities. 

That’s my focus right now. That’s my time line. What seems to not care is my heart. What do I do with feelings? What do I do with Amy? 

Before my lovely chat with my parents I was head over heals smitten for her. Feelings haven’t changed but the safety of expressing them has. I don’t know how to go back. I don’t know how to feel those safely or exist in a relationship with her safely. My mind, my parents, my co-workers, the world is heavy upon my heart and I don’t know how to win under them. Remember…I have to win. 

I can’t just close my eyes and jump in, taking every sharp wave with stride because I’m scared. Fear surrenders me motionless, I will drown. “This or that” is something I seem to bounce back and forth on. I hate bouncing. I hate being beaten about like a basketball missing the rim. One side grabs me, fails at the free throw line and the other team tires equally as unsuccessful. I’m the ball the teams don’t realize I’m the reason they’re playing. Without me there would be no game. Without me there would be no reason to compete. Without me there would be no need to play without concern. 

I’m tired of being played with. I’m tired of being something for a reason versus a person with a heart. My soul is none of anyone’s business, but my heart is capable of being crushed by anyone. 

I also don’t want to be that person for Amy. I want to be careful, highly careful with her heart. I don’t like playing this role. I don’t like being the person saying “hey, there’s a small chance I’ll ever have the strength to actually take the big step, but if you’ll wait it might be worth your while.” She doesn’t run and I don’t want her to, but I wish she didn’t love me. Only because I love her and the whole thing isn’t fair to her. I just don’t have answer. I don’t have an answer today and who knows if I’ll have an answer tomorrow. 

I’m tired of not having the balls to just make a decision and stick in it. I’m so afraid of missing “this” for “that” it becomes harder and harder to do anything. I’m a risk taker and love making that jump, so why am I so afraid? I have never had this type of fear with anything. I’ve just done it. 

You know what I’m also tired of? Being 24 and having to have it all figured out. Since when does a 24-year old have to know what’s going to happen for the rest of her life? I blame my dad. He’s always been like “where’s your plan” and “what are you going to do”. It’s great in considering a house, a job or something NOT related to your heart. 

Dad, I don’t have an freaking plan! I don’t and won’t. I don’t care to find one and I don’t care to make one. I want to be smart and not hurt people, but I don’t have a plan. Sure, sure, it may end up biting me in the ass but I’m tired, very tired of walking that tight rope for you. I’m tired that I have pretend to have it all figured out in order to talk to you. Did you ever know you’re scary? Yeah! You’re not the same guy you were when I was a little kid. Perhaps you’re more concerned now with our well being and just want to make sure we’re okay, but you’re scary. You either think you can scare things out of us or be mean and we’ll just do whatever you want. That’s how you’ve beaten me down before and, I’m sorry, I don’t want to do it anymore. There has to be a break in our relationship. You have to now be an adult because I am now an adult. No, I’m not as learned as you nor have I gathered the many years of wisdom you’ve obtained, but you did it on your own, why can’t I? You moved a million miles away from your family for job and sanity. I’m not moving because I’m facing you, but I will not allow you control me. I’m an adult and it’s high time you treat me like one. 

I’m going to make many, many mistakes. I’m going to fall down and have a hell of a time getting back up, but as long as God gives breath in this body I will get back up. I will do things as you wouldn’t. I will do things as you would. Either way, I’ll be doing them, not you. 

I don’t even know how to talk to you anymore. I would love, love to send these words to you, but you’re so damn defensive that you wouldn’t even read the truth behind them. I’m tired of having to have a plan for you. I don’t live on your dime and I’m not under your roof. My plan is my own and if I do decided to live it absent of your hand, then you must sit back and be thankful I’m able to do it on my own. 

…

I can’t wait for my therapy.

What I Want

I think what I want, at this age and place in life, more than anything else right now is something far more selfish than I inticipated. I want to know myself. I want to know the purity of my self and the depth of what I can be. I don’t want to know things like “where I’ll be in five years”. 

I find this quest selfish because I believe where the scriptures say “If your first concern is to look after yourself, you’ll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you’ll find both yourself and me.” (MSG) I have been searching, buying, massaging the inner core of my being and I have ended up more confused and backwards. I revert to covering rather than understanding. I am faster to run rather than face anything. I’m more opt to buying my happiness rather than finding the joy in situations because I don’t want to deal with them. Why is that? 

There’s something that I keep thinking will release all these over thought, over fed emotions from me and I just don’t know what it is. So, if in taking the scriptures to heart, I must loose myself first. How? Do I join the church group? Do I start a Bible study? Do I start running down people to tell them about God? All of those things tend to push me back. I would be interested in joining a Bible study, but where do I find an OPEN-MINDED Bible study willing to NOT talking about my sexuality in a negative way? 

I just don’t know what to do. Do I start volunteering again? How do I loose myself? Do I start doing random acts of kindness for people I don’t know?

I read articles about people that impress me in their diligence in career, life and venture. In the recent “Psychology Today” there’s an article with Matthew Carter, Type Designer (Verdana, Georgia),  and I love his words when asked “Does the alphabet ever bore you?”

“…There are only certain people content to continue struggling with these same constraints. You are drawn back to try to find some reorchestration of the alphabet that has something personal in it. Otherwise, why bother? You’ve got to have some arrogance to fancy that you can have valid interpretations over and over again.”

“Some arrogance to fancy” are the most beautiful words to me right now. Don’t we all have to have some arrogance to fancy anything over and over again. Stare long enough at something and you will learn every fine detail and action of that something. To be deep in that something every day with passion and fancy requires a deeper arrogance that you can make a difference or effect it indefinitely. That is me with God. That is me with life. That is me with me. 

I’ve stared long and hard at God, life and myself to the point I could make out every curve in emotion, every beat in the time line, but soon I had no arrogance to fancy those things anymore. The only reason I seek to know myself is because I’m tired of feeling like the tether ball being smacked around a poll to the whim of those around me. 

The secret to this post is a little oxymoronic because my truth profession in today is wanting to discover who I am, but the path to such discovery is arrogance of another kind. 

I’m a chameleon more than I care to admit, but over the past several years I realize I can fit in anywhere. My career councilor told me she fears this place for her clients because it means they’ve lost themselves and have to take the long journey to discovering their true person. I hate to say it, but this is me. I can see the beauty in just about everything, place, person and lifestyle. I can understand the passion, irritation and sensitivity to a majority of life styles. So, when in them I adjust to them and like them because it’s something that either interest me or attracts me to it. The big question is “who am I” and “how do I find her?” 

I don’t know what to do…I kind of just want to run away.

Oh My Parents…

Today, like the majority of my days this year, are about me coming out. Coming out in by sexual preference, in my career, my person, my life. In the last couple of months it’s been more about me coming out to my parents that I’m “bi”. First to my mom over the phone after a heart to heart with my career councilor and now this coming weekend to my dad with my mom. 

The funny part is it’s all been going down while I’ve been at work and my co-workers have no idea. Well, maybe they do, but I sit at my non-office desk talking to my mom with tears in my eyes about coming out to my dad. It’s weird, but I just don’t care. 

It’s unusual for me to not care and try to not put a good image out there. I’ve always been the one that puts on a show and displays only the good things I want you to see. I know the majority of people do that, but I think I was rather good at it. In the recent years, I’ve just not cared. I’ve stopped wearing make-up to work and dress very casual. Two things you would have never seen me do several years ago. 

I have always been an open person and for that I’m thankful. People know just who I am in the first visit with me and I think that honest truth can either scare them away or excite them to know me. I’ve found the people who really want me around are the ones who value my honest opinion and open book story of a life. I often have friends that keep me around because I’m good for “tell me the truth” situations. They don’t want me as their best/close friends but love that I can be called on to help, support and tell it like I see it. The people that don’t like me are the ones who, in my opinion, do not know how to sit in their own truth. They don’t know how to be honest and would never dream about wearing who they are on their sleeve. 

Because I’m a firm believer this is how God created me, I take on this gift full heartily. I do think I’ve shifted far from my relationship with God, but I believe that He gave this rare, individual gift for a reason and I hate when I start to not use it. I don’t really know how to be two different people. I don’t know how to lie about who I am or pretend to be something I’m not because it eventually destroys me and I end up blurting it all out in a public place and run away. Well, maybe not to that extreme, but keeping it in just destroys me. So, I came out to my mom. 

We all know how that one went. It turns out, like I knew it, she would tell my father. If there’s one thing I learned from my parents is that marriage is between you and your best friend. Never, ever keep anything from your best friend if you’re wanting your marriage to succeed. So, I wasn’t upset that she told my dad. Rather I was relieved because she helped soften the blow and get his mind thinking before I had to talk to him. The reader must remember that my dad knew about me and Anna (first secret girlfriend), so he wasn’t 100% shocked to learn his little girl is still doing her research. 

Why must I tell my dad I’m “Bi” if he already knows from my mother? Because he wants to hear it from my mouth and talk about it. He and I are the same for which I can respect his desire to address it. 

I’m nervous as all get out. I’m trying to get a counseling appointment lined up for next week because I know I’ll need to talk to someone. No such luck on getting one of them to call me back.

I think what I’m most scared about happening is circling in conversation and a lot of angry words. It would be one thing to have a conversation that was healthy in expressing emotions, attitudes and feelings, but one that just doesn’t become realistic or reasonable is hard. 

My mom is trying to warn me and get me prepared. My parents basically feel that if I were wanting to “fix it” they would let me be, but because I’m not they want to know the game plan. My parents can’t seem to wrap their minds around this and it’s what we have to do to get there. 

I told my mom that I was scared to have this conversation with my dad and she followed with “well, if this is what you’re going to choose in life then you better get use to it.” They don’t support it and probably never will. I’m sure I have a long way to go. 

I think what I want to get out of this most is to be free to choose. I have no idea what I want five years down the road, let alone one year down the road. I know that I am interested in men as well as woman and happen to be dating a woman I really like. I’m not talking marriage or big steps, but I don’t want to close the door just because I have to. You can’t make someone do something like this unless they choose it for themselves. 

Sure, it’s scary to choose something that goes against every person in your family. Sure, it’s weird to live a lifestyle that I really have no clue about. Sure, sure it’s not easy. This is where the gays and lesbians have it easy. For them, they don’t have to choose it’s already decided. For me, it’s a matter of who I like. So much harder. 

Eh…this was not the conversation I’ve wanted to have for a while. I’ve been wanting to sweep it under the rug and deal with it in time. Time meaning I either stay in this relationship or I don’t. 

You know when you have a question you most desperately want an answer to, there is often an answer? Okay, that may have not made any sense, but work with me. I have many questions about several things not relating to GLBT, but one question that seems to just play over and over again is “what the hell am I doing”. Not “what the hell am I doing with her” or “what the hell am I doing with him” but “what the hell am I doing with this part of my life?” Am I just to exist in this question mark place? Why do I have to know? 

How is it I’m so easily swayed? My parents sway me, my friends sway, hell, even certain movies sway me. Should I just never date? Should I just be alone? I hate this part. I’m hoping that I will have more clarity come this next week. I’m hoping when I walk away from the conversation with my parents I feel peace. 

What I want most severely is to know myself regardless of those around me. I want to know my reflection, my soul, my person regardless of where I am or who I’m with. THEN I think I will feel less down, less confused.

Tell Me What To Do

It seems I’m just looking for answers. It seems that what I want is someone to tell what to do, what to say, what to think and which side of the fence to stand on. Up until this point my life has been not completely for myself, but rather to please and uplift those I value. My parents, God, my educators, my coaches, my Sunday school teachers. At the time I would have placed myself in a different category; one that was a rebel of traditional thinking and open to those around her. Whether or not both of those things (meaning independent rebel and dependent pleaser) were true, I find myself, in this moment, some where else entirely.

I’ve wanted to walk that fine line between gay and straight and my early twenties are laced with it. I keep wondering when things will start to just be rather than possibilities. I wonder will I ever truly stop this “struggle” between men or women and exist in one perfect, albeit solo, place? It makes me laugh to talk to lesbians and straight women about this whole “bi” thing.

…

“This whole ‘bi’ thing”…this whole bi thing is me! I’m tired of having to constantly defend my middle ground. I’m tired of people not buying it’s gay legitimacy or just calling me greedy. I’m tired of wondering why I have to choose at all. Choosing…makes things so much easier though. Perhaps it’s me choosing. Perhaps my perfectionist ways are too strong for my own memory and I’m forcing myself to choose because existing in the middle is nearly impossible to do.

Today I had a conversation with my mom about hardly nothing in particular, but relatively dancing around my complex truth. Reader: I’ve mentioned that when I told my mom I’m bi she would not except the gay life style and that it was a sin to be let go. She urged me to seek help, move away and change everything I’ve ever done up until this point to wash “it” out. Our relationship, after many conversations, has become something more bearable and slightly more enjoyable though she still wishes me to never act on this. I love her words, “just don’t be flaming.” I remember a friend telling me that was the reaction he got from his mother. Hmm…I guess they would be good friends.

In that conversation I made mention to my therapy and she inquired how that was going. For those that know me I am not shy about telling you my story. My whole purpose in telling my mom so young in my life was I was tired of pretending to be two different people. Now my mom knows this is something more real than she hoped for, but we just don’t really talk about it. Soon enough we will, but for now this is the way it goes and I’m okay with that. So, I told her about my first session. In my words I found my heart pouring out honestly and openly. I did not deny or shove my truth under the carpet, but acknowledged it’s presence. I can’t honestly remember what she said after or even what I said before, but I know as I hung up the phone I felt okay.

It’s weird actually that I’ve been feeling more and more okay each day. What’s weird about it is in this past year of facing it, being scared by it, personally accepting it, declaring it and asking others to accept it I’m coming into a place of peace. My largest fear has been draped around the a response I’ve been seeking so feverishly. I’ve been looking for closed doors to tell me this is wrong. I don’t trust God’s voice in me, so I’ve asked Him to show me the only way I know how, through open doors and people I trust.

When I felt the strength to finally stop playing games and just be done with my relationship with Amy I thought that was it. I told God if He wanted me out of that relationship and it wasn’t for me that here I was as free as a bird. I asked Him to do whatever He must to help me let go and move on. I was so flippy-floppy in my relationship with Amy that I just assumed it was God trying to get my attention. I didn’t want to drag someone who I loved and really cared about through my unsurity when she was completely sure. What I didn’t expect was love to be revealed in her absence. I clung to God whole heartily and carved out my person for His fulfillment. I took the open doors to be His direction and allowed Him to help me just take one day at a time.

How did I get HERE? Not “here” meaning sexuality/preference/faith/age/whatever. “Here” meaning August 27, 2008. How did I get HERE? Through open doors.

I’m pained and confused because I am consistently expecting God to tell me I’m to remove myself completely and fight this desire the rest of my life. I don’t know His plan and I don’t know His purpose for my life, but what I do know is I find myself HERE not by my hand.

So much has happened in the last month since I walked away from my relationship with Amy. I have come out to my mother, fought the battle with her and am still finding my grounding. I have found personal freedom in my decisions from my parents. I’ve still managed to be not as close to God as I would like to be, but I feel like I’m getting there. I feel like instead of turning the shoulder He’s meeting me face to face. I don’t know how else to interpret these things other than His hand.

Take it all the way back to college, if you will. Ever since the Christmas break of my freshman year I have been taking it one day at a time through open doors. I became an RA for a on-campus dorm my sophomore year by His hand. I was suppose to go to Australia with my school for a mission trip, but it was canceled. At the time I kept wondering why, but now that I look back it was the closet summer I’ve ever had with my brother. That summer was for he and I. My junior year I got a campus job that influenced my choice in sorority to which I became president of my senior year. I met the friends that I did and had the relationships I did for reasons. Some of them were toxic and I didn’t take all the efforts God provided me to get out, but He still didn’t leave me hanging. I graduated school with no luck of an internship, so I took a job at Starbucks to just pay for my stuff while I lived with my parents. A month later, through His hand, I landed an internship with a company that found me. The company was ridiculous, but it provided me my first job. I worked there almost two years and met Amy. When I changed jobs to work where I do now I found myself completely broken in my career. Through Amy I met Teal and through Teal I met her mother, my Career Councilor. As I’ve pulled back the deep, core layers to myself I found the strength to tell my mom I was bi. Through the break down of that moment I discovered my deeper issues needed therapy.

Right now I exist in the middle, the testing period. I call it the “testing period” because I’ve never existed in the middle before. Right now I’m completely, 100% in the middle. I am in the middle of career rechanneling, relationship befuddling and sexual preference fencing. I have absolutely no direction except forward.

The only thing I have right now are my beliefs and they are stalling because I seem to be conforming to more of the world than I want to. I’m sorry, but I do not want to exist in a life where I give a fuck who’s dating who in Hollywood or what designer I should be wearing while driving “that” car. I don’t want to believe everything is okay and that gray is the best color there ever was. I want to be black and white. I want what I stand for to be loud and proud with no muddled edges. Don’t put me in your box just because I make up the “B’ in GLBT. Don’t assume I think like you just because I’m a Christian. Don’t you dare try to mold me into your mindset when I don’t want to be there. Just because I’m bi does not mean I’m a Democrat. Just because I’m a Christian (Jesus follower not religion) does not mean I’m going to beat you over the head with the Bible about your sins. Just because I’m twenty-something years old does not mean I have not wisdom.

In short, I find myself still wanting to know “is it right” for so many different things. What’s funny is that as I’m looking for someone to tell me “yes” or “no” I’m finding my own person. In a weird way, I’m standing on my own two feet and it feels okay.

Emotions, You Are Not Real

It seems I’ve completely forgotten that I actually have a blog and truly enjoy the cathartic release once I write down my inner thoughts and daily ramble. Soon, my little children (that was kind of creepy), I shall have my website in working order (that’s if I really sit down and get started) and we will see things start to fly.

In current, Penelope events I have started seeing a therapist. First off, that word makes me giggle. The-Rapist. I’m sorry, but that’s the only way I can make myself remember how to spell it. I’m the world’s worst speller and I have to use things like that to help me out. Also, I’m really, really bad about using the right sounding word in the wrong way. For example: I’ve always used “verses” instead of “versus” until a good friend (Chris) said something. Now, I can assure you I will not make that mistake for that word, but there many other words I have yet had the chance to folly up. Just wait…it will come.

I started seeing my Therapist on Tuesday and will be seeing her bi-monthly because that’s all I can really afford. I knew on our first visit we would not have hit anything but the bases. I came in with a list of things I wanted to accomplish in seeing her. She immediately had me pegged. She called me a “perfectionist” and I thought for a second we were going to brawl. No, I’m only kidding. I’m completely aware I am a perfectionist and am cool with most of it. Funny enough when I was younger people use to say that to me and I never understood why. To me I didn’t seem like one, but as I’ve gone through a few years in my adult life I’ve realized how much of a perfectionist I am. Not OCD, but where’s that line anyways.

One golden nugget she (Karen) said in describing me, “you don’t know the difference between emotion and reality.” So true Karen, I don’t. That’s why I love movies, TV shows and the like because to me it’s real. I hate to say it, because it makes me feel more lame than ever, when I first moved back home from college I would watch “Friends” and actually feel like was among friends. Lame? I would think so. But, that’s the story of how my mind words. I interpret emotions for reality and basically assume if I’m feeling a certain way it’s for a reason. That would completely explain my crazy, albiet slightly manic, behavior when I was stressed or going through the visit of (guys advert eyes here) Aunt Flow. Well, I guess not manic because I was never like that, but you get the idea.

So, for some odd reason, today I feel slightly sad. Not sure why and really shouldn’t care, but my old “this must be reality” stepped in earlier and said “Oh my goodness you’re so sad! You should go home and lay on your couch.” Stupid inner emotion voice. So, in my best efforts I am trying to tell myself it’s not real, which seems to be working quite amazingly.

Another thing Karen said that struck a cord was about me, in being a perfectionist, not knowing how to sit in the waiting. She said as children in our society we’re taught that weakness is derived from waiting and that we should make a decision and make one now. The best, healthy thing we could do is wait and make the appropriate, well tested decision versus (see I told you I would use it right) rushing into one for mere principle. I started thinking about this and realized that right now, in my 20 something body I am in the phase of life that requires sitting in the waiting. How could I possibly know which career would end up being the true passion of my soul and carry me well into my old age unless I wait for all the right things (i.e. career counseling, career researching, entry-level positions). Also, how could I possibly move forward in my effort to find a future mate when I can’t even feel secure in my sexual preference? I am about to hit (or already in) my quarter-life crisis and the main theme of that time line is waiting. You have to wait and I am going to have to deal.

Karen and I talked about healing some old wounds and clearing out all the old baggage I’ve pushed into the dark, locked cellar of my heart labeled “Hopefully It Will All Go Away Some Day”. Soon, I’m sure, I will be blogging about those festering demons and their quick (hopefully) release from my person.

You know, one thing that makes me hesitant on pursuing a counseling relationship with Karen is her way of faith. I’m not going to judge what she believes and say she’s wrong…okay, no that’s exactly what I’m going to do. She said something about “do we honestly believe that God, in all His glory and all present person, makes mistakes?”  She said it in such a way that made me believe she thought He does. I quickly uttered, “No, I believe He does not.” To which she quickly twirled into the fact that we are the ones making the mistakes and how we often interpret God’s voice and direction for what we want. When we do that we get upset when those things do not happen and blame Him because we thought He was the one giving it to us. When I first heard that I thought, “What relief.”

What you must understand, dear reader, I have had a hard time coming to this point of my sexuality and sexual preference. I hit rock bottom of lonely, abandonment in college to which I decided to throw caution, care, plus general wonder if God would be happy with me and had a same-sex relationship. I can remember a couple of firsts and how they happened, but in terms of how I found myself kissing her or wanting to kiss her I can’t even tell you where that came from. It wasn’t like I said to myself, “Hey, you’ve got nothing to do and it could be fun?” I remember wondering how I got there, but that’s it. Next thing I know I’m kissing her and liking it. Too bad the Katy Perry song wasn’t out then.

After that, I always assumed it was a one-time deal that lasted too long and was filled with way too much drama. I thought I would go back to men, find the one I would marry and call it that. So, in stumbling into general attraction, desire and love with my best friend (Amy) was not next on the agenda and heavily fought. I’ve always seen these stages as faults and cracks of my dysfunctional soul. It wasn’t until November of last year that I started to embrace my attraction to both. It wasn’t until this last month I thought I was ready to take the next step and tell my parents. Right now, I can’t honestly say I know what I’m doing, but have always had this sneaking thought, perhaps, I was not completely off course of the path. “The path” meaning God’s direction in my life.

But, now that I start thinking about those words, I hear a different thought all together. What if because I want to be here, I am making myself believe this is where God wants me? I’ve often wondered how I could have really strayed so far from Him (if that’s what this is) when I was trying so badly to meet with Him. I can’t even tell you how many times I found myself face down on the ground in complete faith He was going to take me through this life and release me from that miserable time in college. I mean, what the hell was an optimistic, extrovert, socially friended by nature person doing in a dark corner preferring to be alone?

I know this is deep, but I’ve decided I’m going to really treat this like a diary. This is not a blog about current events or anything that does not pertain to me.

I am yet again divided. Divided in whether or not I’m here because God wants me to be here or if He’s waiting on me to walk away.

I hate saying that on a blog where anyone and their mom can read it because if you’re gay and read that last sentence it would anger you. It would show you yet another reason as to why you shouldn’t believe in God. I hate that, but I can’t pretend to write things that are not real to me in this moment. If you think that and are ready to move on to your next blog to read, then I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is turn someone away from knowing God. It’s just where I’m at right now. Whether that’s right or wrong or even where I’ll be in the next moment, it doesn’t matter.

I’m a believer in Christ and His plan for my life. I believe He’s the one I want telling me where to go and what to do, but what I can not figure out (from Him and NOT the religious right) is how am I doing so far? Perhaps that’s an answer I’ll not know until old age or maybe ever. Maybe I’ll have a clearer understanding of that answer in a couple of weeks, but right now I’m going with trying to take it one day at a time. I’m learning to live a life opposite of my parents and being unafraid of possibilities. I believe God will show me the next step. I’ve made it very clear in my heart, mind, body and soul that God is in control and HE will open my doors. I will not wait in the darkness of my thoughts no more, but take the opportunities He’s given me without reproach.

Today, I realized my emotion of “slightly sad” does not control nor reflect reality. It does not define my person or clarify my crazy, all over the place life. It just makes it easier to pick a song on the iPod or feed the desire to shop more.

More on therapy to come! I’m sure you can’t wait.

Things To Know

This “list” am about to rattle off are a few things I think you should know about me right now.

1. It’s funny how I choose to walk this path on my own, abscent of a relationship and yet feel very alone. I wanted to hold back my true feelings these past several days from this blog because I hate those depressing posts where it seem all they can talk about is saddness. Sometimes, though, it’s all you’ve got for the time.
2. I want to cry and cry really hard. I want to have a hard, fast, warm rush of emotions flood through my eyes and be done with it. I want the stains of my childhood heart to mend on their own. I want the broken foot prints I’ve been trying to fill to just fade away, far from me. I want to erase my words and dreams and hopes. I want to start new ones. Ones untainted by society, church, family and bad memories. I wish to push restart on my whole life.
3. I just got a call from my Grandpa about my 3Day adventure. This adventure I am doing for my Grandma, his second wife. She died of breast cancer when I was in the sixth grade. I never went to the funeral. I never saw her die. I never saw where she was buried. I never said “goodbye”. I wanted my Grandpa to call me out. Like he knew I told my mom I was bi and that he was unhappy. He went on with how proud he was of me and how his fondest memory was of me when I was two. “Hair as black as an Ace of Spades,” he said.
4. I haven’t spoken to my parents in several days. I haven’t seen them in three weeks. I need a break from them. I need space from their unspoken thoughts. I need a place to hide from their saddened eyes. Eyes that dig deep into the depths of who I am and pull out the guilt of my heart. Guilt I do not feel, but they make me feel. How, from all the steps I’ve taken, have I ended back at a place where they have control over me? Why do I care? Why does it make it hard for me to swallow their inability to let go. Let me be and just love me. Perhaps, they are, but just not in a way I wish they would.
5. I miss you. Could it be that when I loose you I want you most? Could my brokenness only be comforted by your firm embrace? How did we get here?
6. I don’t want to go into work tomorrow, but fear if I stay home I will only push myself in to the grave of my depression. Funny how I walk away from a serious, tear filled conversation with my close friend, feeling all lost and completely alone and three people talk to me: My grandpa, guy neighbor and friend I met in San Diego. All force me to smile, get out of this insufferable place and remember I AM apart of society with interesting parts to provide those around me. Perhaps, not in this blog, but else where I’m sure.
7. I’m listening to the new Imogen Heap song/remake of her “Hide and Seek”. This song has various feelings associated to it for me. One of my ex and her ex. Second of my own personal dissolve in unwrapping their secret affair. Third in further breaking down of my personal life in general. Fourth the gentle renewal of my love for this song through my current/past love. Fifth, identifier to my present standing with these pathetic emotions that just won’t go away. “Where are we? What the hell is going on? The dust has only just began to fall…” words that make me feel foolish in every way about why I am at this place. How is it that nearly every twenty-something I know it happy, soaking up their youth and thriving in  “the life”? How is it I am sitting here going through the hell of it all? Should I be so happy that perhaps I’m beating them to it and when they’re in their forties wondering “what the hell?” I’ll have already done that and can sweetly wisp by with a smile? Hmm…not sure I’m finding the joy in that right now.
8. I love, love, love my dog, Molly. She’s my sweet little love that wraps me in delight and personal hope. If you live alone, feel sad and wish to pull out of it (even just for a moment) get a dog. Seriously, they’re hard work and not 100% easy, but when you cry or feel sad they will love you regardless how long it took you to get home and take them outside to potty.
9. I want to run away. Yes, I am ten years old and feel that THAT is the best thing I can do right now. Run away from all troubles, problems and people that drive me up walls. I really want to run to Seatle. I love the rain. It puts me in an oddly happy mood.
10. I hope my brain scan results come in soon. I hope that it’s something in my brain that makes me feel this way and all they have to do is flip a switch. Wouldn’t that be lovely?
11. I should go to bed, seeing how I DO have to work tomorrow, but don’t want to. I am now in middle school and finding myself fighting that hard fight to stay up even though I’m horribily drained.
12. I loved high school. Seriously, I was that one kid that LOVED high school. I hated college, but loved high school. Weird, huh? I do like being an adult better (minus the responsibiliies and emotions). I just wish there were more organizations you could sign up for that were fun and involved dances or big parades/pep-rallies. Good times.
13. I wish I hadn’t sold my high school flute. Yes, I was the band dork and loved every minute of it. While you were paying to get into the football games I was playing in them with about 90 other of my friends. I loved it. I love classical music and love where it takes me when I listen to it. It’s like my own little excuse to dream and slip off to a rhelm of make believe/sophisitication. I love hearing all the instruments create a beautiful melody and story. Seriously, I love it; however, I am unable to hear it live for it puts me to sleep. I know, it’s crazy, but because I listen to it as I sleep, when I hear it live I want to fall asleep.
14. I wish I could run again. I also ran track for several years in high school and college, but haven’t loved it the same since. I remember running miles and getting lost in those steps. I didn’t run with an iPod or anything. Just me and God. Now, I’m lucky if I can run a mile and not want to hurt myself so I would stop.
15. Molly is asleep at my feet. Actually, she has her head on my feet. Love it.
16. After you rant and cry a little it does get better. Fortunately I’m highly optimistic and know there’s always a silver lining. Regardless of the pain and hurt, it makes you stronger and more prepared for what’s to come. If I had not gone through the pain and hurt of my last boyfriend I might not be able to be as strong in the break up of my girlfriend. Had I not endured the year and half of painful crap from my last job I wouldn’t have lasted the year in my new one. Pain teaches us things we couldn’t learn without it. I read some where God is not interested in your wants, but in building your character. If I had everything the way I wanted it who and where could I be today? I would say spoiled, unhappy and completely still a child.

Mock-Up Me

Here I am, needing to write again for work with little to no energy or brain power. Forgive the rambling in advance if you choose to read on.

I actually have been MIA on this site for a few days now. In fact, I’ve been MIA on my website plans all together. “What’s happened,” you ask? Well…among a million things:

1. I’ve come out to my mother (only to be rejected and told I need help followed with “I will always love you”)
2. I have found myself further and further in the hole regarding income and lack there of
3. I’ve taken up tennis and am very sore from the bad playing I served up yesterday
4. I nearly died from eating a dried-red pepper last night only to be soothed by a nice glass of milk (saves burning esophagus)
5. I have found my secret passion for hospital yet again and am eager to start pursuing my education in that direction
6. I have developed a new fear of walking to work since someone I know knows a girl that was almost kidnapped jogging on a main road with people ALL AROUND
7. I deperately want to form a bookclub, but the only people who want to participate are friends contingent on the on/off moments between me and my ex, so I have to keep searching.
8. I had an MRI last week (in the midst of telling my mom I’m bi) and am awaiting the results with eager ears.

With all those things above, I’m find myself either in deep thought or pushing what I’m not ready to deal with further away.

Today, I see my career councilor and I couldn’t be more excited. I want to move through this “discovery” process so fast because I want to jump into my dreams of working in a hospital. Not a doctor (although that would be cool), but more along the lines of clerical staff versus clinical. I actually was told about this 13 month course you could take toward becoming a certified Medical Assistant. Doesn’t really sound all that glamorous, but the way this nurse told me about it was that a) you can figure out if you even like this sort of work b) will have a “medical foot” in the door in terms of what you can offer a hospital. That doesn’t sound too bad. Must research that.

Part of me hasn’t wanted to really think much about what my mom said to me last week because I don’t want to give her the ability to affect me while I’m still weak. I’m tired, taking meds that bring down my mood and just don’t want to turn “left” when I should have just stayed straight where I was going. I just started thinking about how “if” I were to choose to be with a woman for the rest of my life I want kids. I want tons of kids. I’m a BIG believer in large families and would adopt several right away as soon as I got married. I don’t think I could do that any where near my parents. I would actually have to move if I decided to do that. I don’t think that bothers me nearly as much as knowing how hard it would be knowing my mom’s opinion of me. That’s why I haven’t stopped to think about it, which I’m sure I should. I just don’t want her opinion to effect my opinion or shape my thoughts. I love my parents and wouldn’t trade them for anything, but we’re completely different. I want things they don’t want or understand. I’m just tired of feeling like they have control over me. Control to make me feel bad or make me wish I were different. Eh…I hate this feeling. I’m also really tired and emotions are high so I’m sure once I wake up and snap out of it, I’ll think differently. The beauty of writing a blog under the emotions.

What I know I DO want is freedom, new place to live and the best job ever! Too much to ask for? I don’t think so. Seattle or Chicago, here I come! Well, here I come eventually.

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.

Rebuttle: London Calling

James, thank you very much for the useful tip. I guess I never realized you were in England. Were you born there or moved there later? That site will come in handy when I start ironing out plans. I’m very excited about this opportunity and for the first time it seems real, in the near future and a HUGE possibility. Have I mentioned I wanted to move there since I was seven or eight? As soon as I found  my dad’s side was originally from there (way back in our roots) I wanted to go. I began obsessing about their culture, television (I know, right?) and lifestyles. I love everything to do with that country minus it’s healthcare. I’m sure once I make the big leap I’ll miss plenty of simple things from here, but it just seems worth it to me.

E., Yeah it’s going to be a HUGE jump out there and I’m really hoping it happens. I get so excited and the blood seems to pump through me with so much passion the more I get into figuring it out. I never thought I would leave this city that I basically grew up in, but now I’m ready. I guess baby steps toward moving some where else in the states would be a great place to start, but screw that idea…I’m moving to LONDON first. I’m sure there will be plenty of tears and loneliness at first, but I’ll get over it.

The only thing I care about going with me is Molly (my dog). She’ll have to be quarantined, but she had to do that when she came from Mexico. We’ll be the funniest pair. She’ll be the best thing to help me introduce myself to people. “I’m from the States and she’s from Mexico.” Love it.

I’m totally against dog clothes for her, but she’ll have to wear a jacket or something because she’ll freeze with her little coat made in Mexico. Texas isn’t so bad for her, but London (I fear) will not be easy for her to get use to.