Here's what it feels like

It feels like death most of the time. For a moment here, it feels really good. I'm looking forward to Wednesday night, the first time I will . . . do something. I don't know why it was a big step . . . yeah, I do. It's the first time I will try to reconcile my sexuality with my Christianity openly. I'm not alone. Surprisingly, a lot of people already know who I would have guessed would be the last to know. My nephews. I don't know what any of this means yet. At the moment I'm ok with the questions. I get nauseated a lot. :) Surprisingly is a word I want to use a lot. Surprisingly I don't get to take time off to deal with this. My daughter has some special needs, we need to look at therapy. A predatory loaner is taking us to collections. Medical and legal issues for an injury need to be tied up Wednesday morning. Groundhog day is coming. Surprisingly, I am wading through this still thinking "finding yourself" is a lot of bunk. Surprisingly, my husband has my back and has encouraged me more than anyone. Surprisingly, I have one really good friend who cares. Surprisingly, I'm not talking to my brave, brave sister. I feel like she's there and that's all I need. I just need her presence to know I'm not alone. For a week I felt like I was the only one with things so screwed up. Yesterday it dawned on me that so many people have walked this road ahead of me. I talked to a pastor on the phone who said "I am a lesbian." Silence. It's hard to find the silence to think. So I process and learn and move in the chaos because I cannot get out of it. There isn't a pause button on the world. I don't know what the future looks like, that's the scariest thing.