Monday, April 8, 2013

Throwing Words At It


Two years later I kiss my girlfriend quickly as I head off to run an errand and I stagger at the thought that anyone could see that as morally wrong.  The thought of kissing someone else feels wrong to me, it has that weight.

Two years, and I've overcome enough of my internal homophobia that I can't understand how I became "other".  I don't feel other.  I feel just like you.

Relationships are hard.  Loving someone other than yourself is hard.  It's growing and stretching.  And an overnight getaway alone is breathtaking and beautiful.  Sleeping with her is beautiful.  And "sleeping" with her is beautiful.  It's just like it is for you.

I'm just like you.  And I'm crying again.  Because, this time, I don't know how you can push me over to a place I don't belong.  I don't understand.  How is it weird?  You have fetishized this.  I didn't.

What if they did that to your love?




(Thank you to this post for reminding me of this video.)

Sunday, February 24, 2013

It's The Same, Isn't It For Me?


I'm way far into this path of mine and still at the very beginning.  But either way I'm losing patience with myself on this issue.

I can see the progress.  I can see how it took time with each and every person to let go of who I needed them to be, to let my heart heal.

Still.  It keeps coming back.  People I loved, who I looked up to, who helped me become this person strong enough to take these steps to wholeness - I see nothing else about them has changed.  But now all I can see is the ugliness.  I see other people on their journeys so like mine being fed by these same gracious people.  And there is nothing left for me now.  I don't know how to reconcile the grace with the homophobia.

I see clearly that it is their issue, their fears.  It's not about me.  And still I keep trying.  I keep trying to fix my end of it.  Really, I don't want it to keep hurting.  I want to let it go.  I want to be better than that.

I'm like a grandmother with arthritis trying to let it go.  I'll push harder today.  Today I'll try better.  Today I'll love better!  I'll come up with a stronger mantra.  "I release them from who I thought they were, I accept them for who they are."  "This is not about me."  "I approve of myself radically so that I do not need the approval of others."  "Fuck."  Nothing changes.

They helped me on this journey!  They were the impetus!  They held me up when I had to take another step, getting closer.  And then they turned their back on me when I got here.  They say this wasn't an acceptable place to go.  They take the grace I leaned on and pull it out from under me.

And I don't want  it to keep hurting me.

The closest I've gotten is Mr. Rogers.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Sometimes People Are Good

"Sometimes people are good
And they do just what they should.
But the very same people who are good sometimes
Are the very same people who are bad sometimes.
It's funny, but it's true.
It's the same, isn't it for me and...

Sometimes people get wet.
And their parents get upset.
But the very same people who get wet sometimes
Are the very same people who are dry sometimes.
It's funny, but it's true.
It's the same, isn't it for me and...

Sometimes people make noise
And they break each other's toys.
But the very same people who are noisy sometimes
Are the very same people who are quiet sometimes.
It's funny, but it's true.
It's the same, isn't it for me and...

Sometimes people get mad
And they feel like being bad.
But the very same people who are mad sometimes
Are the very same people who are glad sometimes.
It's funny, but it's true.
It's the same, isn't it for me and...

Sometimes people are good
And they do just what they should.
But the very same people who are good sometimes
Are the very same people who are bad sometimes.
It's funny, but it's true.
It's the same, isn't it for me...
Isn't it the same for you?"





Monday, January 7, 2013

Shame and the Me Inside

Come to find out, there's still a me that thinks "If people knew . . . "

The road I took wasn't without serious muddy pits along the way.  And, funnily enough, not all of them  are ones I would wish away.  Some of those mud baths left me far more beautiful.  And some of them still suck at my ankles and make me feel like I am less than the person I portray.

And that makes it hard to tell my story.  And holds me back.  Because I'm not ready yet to say that every step that helped me get here was good.  Some of it feels too ugly for that.  Even when I love deeply the people who were there with me.  Even when I love the beauty it brought into my life.

I am not that person now, and it's hard for me to wrap my arms around the woman who did the very best she could at the time and tell her that it was enough and she's enough.

I have to do that though.   I have to be proud of all of me.  I have to love myself like I would love anyone else.  

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Don't Talk To Me



Don't talk to me

If you haven't asked me

about my story


Don't talk to me about coming back to God

If you haven't listened

While I tell you

About the nights I cried and begged Him

And knowing.

If you don't know I dropped my daughter off at school to

Cross the street to the church and sit in front of the cross on my knees

And ask and cry and promise and wait

Five days a week.


Don't talk to me about restoring my marriage

If you haven't listened to my voice break

When I said I would love him more the day we divorced

Than the day we married

If you don't know about the night he said the words because I couldn't

And I sat on his lap and cried and cried.

If we didn't feel your arms around us as we stood in front of the judge

Ok.  And proud of the way we were doing things

You have no clue.


I wish you wouldn't pray for me

If you never held my hand and prayed with me

If you didn't hold me while I shook,

If you didn't watch me meet god.


If you don't know, if you never asked,

What it was like to wake up brokenhearted to be alive the morning after I overdosed

On your lies.  The morning after I chewed and swallowed the words

That said she would be better off without me

And washed them down with the poison in the way you smile

Knowing everything.

If you didn't sit in the ER with her that night

Or wait at home with him


You are not my father or my mother or my friend.

You don't belong in this beautiful creation I call life

This crazy, wonderful, hard, incredible thing I embrace, naked, with all my heart

If you haven't asked.  If you haven't listened.


I have a story to tell.

I went there.  And I came back, we all do,

With a story.  It's bigger than you imagine.


Don't talk to me.

If the only story you've heard is yours.

If you haven't asked and you don't listen.